Wrapping

Since Zadie loves being held so much, I thought I'd better find a way to do stuff and hold her at the same time. Last night, I put her in my robe and tied the belt under her butt.


She was so comfy that between that and my friend Beth's recent review of various baby carriers, I decided that a Moby wrap was just the thing. We bought one today while we were out doing errands, and she LOVES it so far. I love it too -- look, I can blog, read the newspaper, put laundry in... and she's super-happy.

This is how we feel about baths

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

We gave the baby a bath last night and clipped her nails. This morning she had her first well-baby visit, and she's been found to be USDA Choice Baby. She's perfect in every way. We were the typical new, nervous parents who had a thousand questions. Everything we were concerned about is perfectly normal. We even discussed things like the texture of her poo. Yeah.

So I guess I'm a mommy blogger now. Before I was a "life blogger." Both terms seem to get thrown around a little disparagingly, but I don't care. Mommying is my life now -- not all of it, but a hugely significant part -- and I won't apologize for that. I hope you'll stay with me on the journey. Most of you read because you are my friends and like me anyway, so I suspect you'll be around. Thanks for being interested!

--CM

Talk about transformations

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

Here's 5 days post-partum. I still have some belly, but it's not full of baby anymore! In fact, I think I am slightly thinner right now than I was in my early 20s. (It is not really 1968 -- I'm just playing with the photo editor.) If you are a fan of Russ Meyer films, you may notice another transformation.

What you can't see is the transformation that happened on the inside. I feel like I shattered like safety glass, then shattered again into diamond dust, then got built up again from that.

I feel like I was made out of sponge, dessicated, and then rehydrated.

I feel like I was made of Play-Dough, taken apart, squished into balls, and reformed into me again, but maybe with something hidden inside, like a gem or an LED light.

I feel like the whole world changed, even though it all looks exactly the same.

I feel like I could use a couple hours' sleep.

Do feel free to check out the photos -- we've gone picture-crazy, and update the Flickr page regularly. (Clicking on me circa 1968 should get you there.)

Oh -- one thing that hasn't transformed: I'm crazy in love with my baby, but I'm not an idiot. That's why the new Dixie (paper plate) ad campaign pisses me off. It's all these moms saying that using paper plates allows them more time with their families because they don't have to wash dishes. The message is, time with your kids is more important than saving the environment for them. Talk about pathos. I can't find the one I saw, but all the others are similar in tone, that Dixie is helping create happy family quality time. http://www.makeitadixieday.com/new2.html They even claim to have the first podcast for moms by moms. Uh-huh. I mean, rock on, sell your shit (your landfill-destined shit), but to claim that you're promoting family time... Ugh.

You're out of touch... I'm out of time

And I'm out of my head when you're not around...

Okay, enough with the karaoke. Just wanted to say that Miss Zadie-cakes seems to take affront when I use the internet or eat toast, so I'm just enjoying lots of cuddle time. Everything's groovy around here.

Not much to report. We had one funny bit this morning.

After a typical night as parents at home with a newborn, we called the advice line to ask why she hadn't pooped. They said not to worry, and we hung up. Sweetie then had her on his lap, and we heard "toot... tooot. SQUIIIRTT." We opened her up and saw that yes, we had nothing to worry about. "Does that count as two?" Sweetie asked. I held her up to clean her and a moment later replied "now it does." Yep, not only did I have physical evidence of my daughter's ability to poop, I had seen it for myself. Sweetie has been talking up his fear and loathing of poopy diapers, but I thought it was hyperbole. No; in fact, his gag reflex kicked in and I heard him retching dryly as he whisked the evidence away.

My father-in-law and his wife ended their visit this evening. It was wonderful to see them.

Okay, Fussy McFusserson calls...

This is what triumph looks like today.

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

Anyone else hearing Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" or is that just me?

Some of the story.

Sorry if I'm repeating anything. I know this is long, but it's considerably shorter than I could make it.


I was right on Sunday early a.m. when I thought my water had broken and they sent me home. So Monday when I had my regular appointment, I had been losing water and essentially in early labor for 38 hours. My doctor called the hospital and said I had to go right then.

Because my sac had ruptured so long before (by the time we got there, it had been more like 40 hours), they had to put me on Pitocin to hurry things up.

The pit hit me like a Mack truck, and by the time I was 5 cm, I was over natural childbirth and had the epidural. In the long run, it was a good thing.

By about 2, it felt like the epi was wearing off, and I was having a lot of pain again. I called the nurse, because she had told me to call her when the pressure increased. She came back, said I was at 9, but to try a couple pushes to see what happened. I did, and she left and said she was going to be back in half an hour. She was back about 30 seconds later. Then all hell broke loose.

The nurse's name was Ola, and she came back in and announced, "Okay, we're going to have this baby RIGHT NOW." I had thought it might go like, well, when I feel like pushing, I'll push and breathe and stuff. No, suddenly people were yelling at me to push, push hard, harder, right now, one more... I heard her go to the door and yell "We need the midwife in here for bradycardia." I pushed my ass off, although I wasn't sure what exactly was going on.

I squeezed out her head, and I thought there was usually a break before they tried to deliver the rest of her, but they kept yelling, so I kept pushing, and we got her out in one messy fell swoop.

Until this point, everyone had seemed pretty aware of my birth plan and respectful of it, even though a lot of it had necessarily had to change already. But then even more hell broke loose. Ola called for another nurse, and they said they were busy. She then said to Sweetie "Rip that thing out of the wall." He said "You mean, push the call button again?" She said "No, rip it out of the wall." He did. Somewhere in there, the baby was put on my chest and they commented on her being "juicy." I told her "Oh my god, you're my baby!" They toweled her off a bit, then told Sweetie to cut the cord right then (I had asked to delay it). Then they took her to the isolette in the corner of the room. Five nurses ran in.

I had asked for skin-to-skin time, said they didn't need to clean her off first, and said I wanted to try nursing right away, and they could run all their tests later, after an hour or so had passed. So between that and the nurse parade, I knew something was wrong. I protested mildly, and they said they just had to do a couple things. The midwife went to deliver my placenta and do my stitches and things, and she kept distracting me. I realize now she was doing it on purpose. She kept talking to me, asking me questions, etc. Monkeygirl stayed by my side and petted my shoulder. Mom and Monkeygirl watched them attend to the baby. Ola was pointedly blocking my view.

The first real status report I heard was "She's got great color. She's really pink." In light of that, I remember thinking "Well then what the fuck are you doing? Why isn't she with me?" What I now understand is that they were commenting on her color because she had been quite blue before. She was also having retractions, which is a funky herky-jerky way of breathing. They whisked her to the special care nursery, and I ordered Sweetie to leave me and go with her.

It doesn't seem like it took too long for them to get me settled and wheel me down to see her. At that point, I still didn't really know what was wrong, but they explained that she had a little trouble breathing, and was going to be fine. They took me to my room, showed me a few things, and I went to sleep for about an hour. Sweetie stayed in the nursery.

When I finally got back to her (refreshed!), I started to hear more of what was going on. I had so little fluid left that they'd put some fluid back in me, some of which she may have breathed in. There was also meconium in my little remaining fluid, some of which she almost certainly breathed in. Her heart rate was dropping wildly during my contractions (which is why we had to hurry so much to deliver -- I only pushed for 23 minutes), and that super-fast delivery meant that she didn't get squeezed in the birth canal for very long, so she didn't get any fluid squeezed OUT of her lungs. Anyway, juicy indeed.

On Tuesday morning, they had her on a warmer, a nasal cannula for oxygen, an IV drip for fluids, an antibiotic, a tube down her throat, a blood pressure monitor, two oxygen sensors... as you might imagine, we couldn't take her out of the isolette because of the wires & tubes. They tried to let me nurse her at about ten, then said she couldn't, because her oxygen desaturated and she hadn't gotten the hang of breathing and sucking.

It feels like we've been there weeks, but over the course of the last two days, they've gradually stopped most of the interventions. She's still being monitored, but they stopped the warmer first (she's a BUNDLE of warmth), then the tube went away, then they gradually lowered the oxygen, then lowered the air flow, then stopped the antibiotics... By tonight they expect to remove the nasal cannula and probably the IV. They said if she handles those well, we can bring her home tomorrow.

Tuesday late evening was the first time they let me hold her for any length of time, but since then we've barely put her down. There can only be two people in the special care nursery with her, so we've been tag-teaming, but all her rates are even better when she's being held...

I'm home now, and I cried a little about it, but I'm going to get a not-hospital-food meal and a good night's sleep, and tomorrow, we go bring that baby home!

Some other notes -- breastfeeding obviously has gotten off to a rough start, but we got her to latch on a bit today. She's very comfortable getting huge amounts of formula, so I may have to fight her a bit to get on the booby. But the nurse today kept going on about how much colostrum I was getting (I've been expressing it and getting it to her to the best of my ability, but that's a longer story, too).

Sweetie was my CHAMPION throughout the birth and the last few days. He has been... utterly amazing about everything. His awesomeness will require its own post and story sometime. But I'll leave you with this: After holding her for five hours, pretty much uninterrupted yesterday, I told him how long he'd been holding her and he said "It feels like just a few minutes." He has been singing to her -- mostly Christmas songs, Billy Squier's "Stroke Me" and "Rock Me Amadeus" but with the words changed so that they're all about Zadie.

Nurses --- I can't say enough what wonderful care I had. If I started to, I'd cry. Again.

I pushed so hard I broke all my blood vessels! Okay, not all of them, but a ton on my face, chest, and back. They're called petechial hemorrhages, and they're how forensics people can tell when someone's been strangled! They're fading fast, but for a day or two, I looked like the before picture for Proactiv.

Holding her is the best thing ever, she is the sweetest baby ever, she is a total cuddlebug... I think she's very advanced -- when we put her on our chests, she raises her head to look around. She also has kung-fu-fighting hands -- she bats the nurses' hands away, holds her paci in place when she wants it (seriously) and tries all the time to rip out her cannula. She has long legs, long fingers, long toes, soft skin, and funky brown kinky hair! When we burp her, she opens her eyes wide as if to say "What fresh hell is this?!" But she mostly fusses only when she's hungry or if we put her down.

When she cries, it goes "eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh" until she's really mad, and then it goes "Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah!"

But mostly she just contentedly cuddles and looks beautiful! My mom thinks she looks a lot like me, but the truth is that Sweetie and I both have cupid's bows and chin dimples, so it's hard to say.

I will post more pictures soon (we've only taken a thousand or so), and I'm sure I'll think of things I forgot.

This was both the scariest and the happiest 48 hours of my life.

Grandma...

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

...and baby.

Azadeh is a warm little beast and at one point caused me to break out into a sweat.

The Count is doing really well. She's healing up nicely after her Herculean 25 minute pushing session. I suspect she'd like diversity in her diet, but otherwise she's healthy and whole.

Zadie is doing well and has pretty darn good coordination at this point. Though it seems like the last few days have been an eternity, she's been on this earth less than 48 hours and she is already so loved by so many. Not the least by her mother and I.

Good night.

Mom and Baby

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

How wonderful is that?

Azadeh is doing well and at times literally full of piss and figuratively vinegar. At least I hope.

So to save the Count the trouble of explaining, she burst about 100,000,000 blood-vessels in her face pushing. That's punk rock if you ask me.

Also of note, apparently the only vegetarian options in a hospital are pasta dishes. That'd get old fast if you ask me.

Yawny McYawnerson

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

Day 2 Notes:

Azadeh is still the most beautiful baby in the world. Here she is mid-yawn.

Welcome to the jungle...

Azadeh (Oz-ah-day) Finn Piggs!

8.78 lbs
19.5 inches long

Of Note

1. This is being written by sweetie, since the Count is Mockulating in the Hospital still.

2. MM and Monkeygirl rock beyond any description. They proved more than essential to the birth. Thank you both, though that doesn't capture the extent of our gratitude!

3. The Count Rocks! I am so proud of her for bringing new life into the world. She is my hero and I love her and respect her so much for going through this.

4. Azadeh is a badass, who from second one began kicking, punching, and using the eye of death on those around her. She gets it from her mother.

5. Azadeh is the most beautiful baby in the world. I'm being unbiased here. Pictures to follow.

6. Hospitals, those havens of rest and recuperation, wherein you can remain undisturbed for about 10 minutes at a stretch.

7. The placenta is tougher to cut than you'd think. [Note: I woke up this AM and my first thought was that it's the umbilical cord that's tough to cut. Cutting the placenta would be all 1970s hippy of which Mockula might be]

8. My plans to be at the head were thwarted by the convenient alcove that took up the upper portion of the bed. Needless to say I saw it all.

9. Mockula is taking notes and will blog as soon as she gets her internet-dt'ing ass to a connection. Sweet sweet internet.

10. To all those who held us in your thoughts, thank you!

If you happen to be into the gory details

I wrote them all down here. If the words "mucus plug" make you shudder, you'd better skip it.

No baby yet.

False alarm

Well, what I thought happened probably DID happen, but it wasn't serious enough that they didn't send me home. Now I'm going to take a nap.

We're going in, but...

we may get sent home Don't get too excited.

One of the things happened that, if it happens, you're supposed to definitely go in. But I am only 85% sure it happened.

Well.... Maybe soon

I'll keep you updated. But there have definitely been some changes today. I'm going to try to get a good night's sleep. I'm not having contractions, but some of the other signs of early labor have definitely commenced.

She has "lightened," which appears to mean that she is smooshing her head right down in my business.

I feel sort of hormonal and out of sorts.

I have more distinct abdominal pain and pressure.

I feel sort of generally crampy or twingy. It isn't like what a contraction is supposed to be like (rotating from back to front and cramping up the whole area), but it also doesn't go away when I walk or change position.

Anyway, that's it. I'm thinking maybe tomorrow. Wish me luck!

Sacrilicious

By the way, I saw a wild turkey crossing Folsom Blvd. yesterday. The traffic all slowed down to do what I did, which is think "Is that a wild turkey?!"

And finally, MG asked me last night what Good Friday was. I said it was the day Jesus was crucified. She pointed out that Easter Sunday was the day he was resurrected. True. But wasn't he dead for three days? Well... wait... yeah. Friday afternoon to Sunday morning isn't three days, no matter how many people (Sweetie, I'm looking at you) count on their fingers "Friday... Saturday... Sunday..."

In fact, since it was Sunday morning when they went to the tomb and discovered he wasn't in it, it was probably more like 36 hours, or not even TWO full days.

I mean, not that it matters, but if you left to go camping on Friday evening and came home Sunday morning, you wouldn't say you'd been camping for three days. I'm just saying...

The rest of yesterday

After my last post I took a nap, then Sweetie came home and he took a nap (we've been advised to get as much sleep in as possible). I ate half a pineapple and a mango and drank some red raspberry leaf tea in the hopes of triggering labor. Then we went to the mall and got him some new cargo shorts and a cute crew-neck lightweight sweater. Then we went to the game store and then met Monkeygirl for dinner at Malouf's. I had a falafel sandwich so I could put hot sauce on it and maybe trigger labor.

Then we came home and Monkeygirl offered to walk around with me in the hopes of triggering labor. We walked first to the park, where I had heard swinging might trigger labor, so I swung for a minute, which was fun, but I felt a little skeevy, because the only other people there were dads with kids. So we continued on our walk to Gonul's, where I thought we might get dessert.

Can I recommend against that, fellow Sacramentans? Of the choices, one was a baked apple with blue cheese. Another was key lime pie with a tarragon anglaise. Another involved butternut squash chips. Yet another involved something called "butter corn sauce." I seriously thought the corn might be metaphorical, but after reading all the other selections, I realized it probably wasn't. Never mind, though, because I had two delightful options; I could order the chocolate decadence or a chocolate chip cookie with vanilla gelato. Monkeygirl thought a warm apple crisp sounded good. It came with almond ice cream, but she hoped she could get vanilla gelato instead. But wait! Because the (very nice) waiter returned after a few minutes to say that he had neither vanilla gelato nor almond ice cream, and they were out of the chocolate decadence. Well, Monkeygirl amended her order to the crisp without ice cream and I to a chocolate chip cookie with chocolate gelato. He disappeared again and came back to report that they also didn't have chocolate chip cookies. I need to point out that Gonul's is not exactly so jumping that they might have sold out of all those. I think they just were on the menu and hadn't been prepared that evening or something. There were only a few other people dining there, and it wasn't that late. I settled on chocolate gelato (which was pretty good) and Monkeygirl got her crisp, which was so bad she pushed it around the plate so it appeared that she'd eaten it (it was apparently both cold and gelatinous). We TOTALLY should have gone to 33rd street Bistro instead. Oh well. Then we walked home. It was about a 40 block walk, all told, and suffice to say I am not in labor.

Today it's cleaning morning, then who knows. I was thinking about making spaghetti and not-meatballs tonight. I have nothing much else to do. I'm going to feel a bit guilty if she hasn't come by Monday, since I've already taken the time off and have a sub. I would have continued working if I thought she wasn't going to be here. But I do have a doctor's appointment on Monday, so maybe he can, you know, get something going. I was going to try to evict the baby or sue her for breach of contract, but my lawyer (Monkeygirl) says you can't sue a minor.

Jesus & Ed Begley Jr. & bedhead & Iranian baby clothes

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

Mom came over yesterday and said she passed a guy in raggedy clothes carrying a huge cross over one shoulder. I asked if there were any donkeys around and if anyone was laying out palm fronds, and she said no. I also made sure she had given him the right of way and not given him a crazy look or anything. Even us agnostics can't be too careful.

Someone asked in a comment why my neighbor was Ed Begley Jr. It's not clever or anything -- he just bears a striking resemblance to him. I think if it was ACTUALLY Ed Begley Jr. we'd have had to run that compound miter saw on the energy from an exercise bike.

I talked to Monkeygirl this morning and just have to call her out. She was like "Yeah, I didn't want to say anything about your bedhead because of all those comments from people saying anyone who'd criticize your bedhead isn't really your friend... but they don't know! They've never seen it!" It's true. I have really impressive bedhead. It stands straight up. The other day at Dad's I took my hat off and showed my ratty hair underneath (standing straight up, naturally), and Dad took his hat off and was working the same look! Anyway, I love that she's straight up with me about my bedhead.

We got a package from Sweetie's aunt in Iran filled with really cute baby clothes. They're "Baby Boo," which is apparently a knockoff of Hello Kitty, as this picture illustrates. The clothes are adorable, though!

Plans for today

would not seem to include a trip to the hospital. Rather, I had a cinnamon roll and tea at Coffeeworks (and yes, that's three days in a row I've gone out for breakfast, but when am I going to get that chance again?). Now I'm home poking around on the internets.

Sweetie gets off work early today, so we're trying to think of something fun to do.

Here's a 40 week picture. I didn't make the bed or anything, but the state of my hair is probably a good indicator of how motivated I was to make this an attractive photo.



At Home Depot the other day and again at the coffee shop this morning someone told me I looked like I was carrying twins. Then I punched them. The end.

Confession: I'm kind of bored

I know, who am I to complain about having a week off work before the baby comes? But normally on Spring Break I wouldn't be quite so gargantuan, and I could go do fun stuff. All I've really been doing is getting breakfast, then second breakfast and elevensies, reading, napping...

Plus, I'm a little annoyed that my first motherly prediction is wrong. I was sure she'd come early, but no. She dropped early, I dilated early, I'm enormous... it all adds up, doesn't it? I guess not. And today is Nowrouz, the Persian New Year, so I was sort of hoping...

Today I went to Old Soul at the Weatherstone (a new incarnation of an old coffee shop) and had a scone. I decided to do something with my hair (i.e., put it up in a fauxhawk) and wear my googly-eye shoes so that I'd be a real spectacle if I went into labor instead of only a minor spectacle. I also wore my Hello Kitty underpants, because I find that things tend to happen to me when they're most likely to be embarrassing. If anyone's going to see my underpants (say, at the hospital), it's going to be on a day when I'm wearing Spiderman or WonderWoman (or Badtz-Maru) underpants, not on a day when I'm wearing a nice pair of Victoria's Secret bikinis.

So now it's 10:17, I don't have a plan in the world, and I guess I might take a nap. I may do some more cleaning (I haven't been hit by that nesting urge yet, but maybe I can fake it), and perhaps I'll watch a few more episodes of Deadwood. Sigh.

I want to meet the baby! I keep having these weird notions, like the phone rang the other day and I was like "Is that the news that the baby is coming?" This morning I thought the same thing when my e-mail dinged. I doubt either of those methods will be how I know she's coming. I guess one never knows, though!

Another day, another no baby

Today was a good day, minus the no baby part.

Well, to start with, actually, I had a REALLY strange dream: It involved me giving a mailman fish tacos, my grandparent's house, where I had to lure a squirrel outside with walnuts, and was charged with murder for interfering with the mail. On the bright side, I got to see my grandfather, who's been dead for 8 years. (In fact, 8 years this month.)

Anyway, I got up and saw Sweetie off, then got dressed and went to Cafe Bernardo, where I had the two egg breakfast. I love two egg breakfasts. It's almost always eggs, potatoes, and toast, and how can you beat that? I also had a decaf latte and read the paper. Delightful. Oh, and on the way there, I passed a construction worker who said "You're having a baby!" I replied, "Yep." He said, even more enthusiastically, "Yes, you are!"

I came home and dinked around, taking a short nap, then I fixed the dripping toilet. Hooray, me, toilet-fixer! Then Mom came over and took me to the bank, where I claimed some unclaimed property the State of California had listed for me. I'm $95 richer than I was 12 hours ago. It was funny; I had totally forgotten what happened, but (also 8 years ago, incidentally) a money order I sent to take one of the tests for my credential never made it to the testing service, and I had to take the test later. Which meant I also had to get special dispensation from my intern program. I was insanely stressed about it, and at one point assumed I had blown my chance at the internship entirely. But I took the test later, I passed it, and the rest is history. Anyway, the money order must have shown up again!

Then Mom and I tried to cut some trim pieces for the dresser she rehabbed for the baby's room. We had asked the neighbor, Ed Begley Jr., whether we might use his miter saw (I always hear him sawing). We made the measurements very carefully, and then we made all the cuts. And made them pretty much all wrong. A little embarrassed to ask the neighbor again, we asked Dad if he could do it for us. We bought another piece of trim and he made all the cuts. He did better than we did, but to be honest, there's a little adjustment to do there, too. It's just hard to get it right!

After we put the trim on, Mom left and I made a yummy salad and now... well, now I'm watching reruns of Scrubs and trying to keep myself from walking to Save-Mart to purchase one of every kind of candy there is. Incidentally, I was looking on Save-Mart's web site the other day and in other states it goes by S-Mart. How cool is that?! (I mean, if you're an Evil Dead/Army of Darkness fan. "Shop smart. Shop S-Mart.") I still hate Save-Mart, but now I can at least think of Bruce Campbell every time I go by.

No gnus, er, news

I got up this morning and ate my carrot bread/cake stuff. I was pissy last night, because it took twice as long to cook as the recipe indicated, then fell apart when I took it out of the pans. But it was really tasty, so now I'm less pissy.

I fooled around a bit, then decided to listen to my guided meditation, which put me to sleep, and I slept until like 11:00!

Then Sweetie called with some fantastic news! He's the recipient of an Outstanding Teaching award. Hooray!! I'm so proud of him.

I then had a shower and a sandwich and went to Borders. I got a whole bunch of books and some more thank you cards. The books I got last week* have all been fantastic, but I need new ones. I also needed to buy "Into the Wild," which I'd promised to leave for my sub.

I then went to school to drop the movie off. I suspected someone might be there, so I went to the office first, and sure enough, it was open! I dropped off the movie in my box and picked up a reimbursement check I hadn't remembered to pick up on Friday, so that was good!

I then picked up a few ingredients for dinner and got a package from the post office. Made pizza for dinner, painted my nails & toes, and have done a whole lot of nothing.

I keep thinking the baby is going to announce her impending arrival, but so far nothing more than a bunch of sporadic Braxton-Hicks things.

*Sarah Vowell's Assassination Vacation and Rob Sheffield's Love is a Mix Tape. I really loved them both and highly recommend them.

St. Patrick's Day

Yo. It was my first day of vacation, and I was a combo of lazy and industrious. First, I read the paper and played on the internet. I also watched a great deal of MTV. Then I went to the pet store and got Mina a new scratcher. I also went to the co-op and bought seitan, a meat substitute. While I was gone, the car seat lady called me back, so I called her back, and left another message. Then I ate my leftover Tres Hermanas (mmm), took a brief nap, and woke up when she returned my call. I then went to meet her, and she was impressed at the job we'd done installing it. She also showed me how to adjust the straps and answered a question I had about taking it on airplanes.

Then I came home and started making soda bread. I have cut out or printed out several recipes over the years, and I tried a new one today. It was super-easy and delicious. In fact, Sweetie and I finished half a loaf with dinner! I made corned seitan and cabbage and roasted potatoes. It was good!

I started to make carrot cake, but realized I didn't have eggs, so I put that off until after dinner, at which point I walked to the store and bought eggs, then came home and finished up the cake. It's in the oven now, actually.

There are a few things still on my to-do list, and I'm certain I can find more, but I'm trying (really!) to take it easy. Keep in mind, though, that I love cooking and for me, cooking is one of the fun parts of vacation.

Okay, off to make myself one with the couch for the rest of the evening.

Incidentally, last night I had a lot of Braxton-Hicks stuff going on, and I really thought today might be the day, but as soon as I got up, it was over, so not yet, I guess. Unless something very dramatic happens, I suspect I'll have time to post an "Okay, we're going to the hospital" post. Keep your eyes peeled!

I'm so vain, I probably think this blog post is about me

Okay, it is. Here's my super-vain confession: I am going to buy a cute scarf or bandana for the hospital to cover my hair, since I have the most ridiculous bedhead that ever was. I'm serious; If there were bedhead competitions, I would win. Ask Sweetie, Mom, Monkeygirl, Gynagirl, or Drummergirl -- they've all lived with me and know the horror. The shit stands straight on end. It defies gravity. Depending on how I've slept, I look like Ed Grimley,



Marcel from Top Chef,



Robert Smith,



a Dr. Seuss character,



or

Gary Oldman in Dracula (It could happen!).



Anyway, I don't want those precious first shots of my beautiful baby to be marred by the horror that is my hair. I don't expect to have makeup up. I presume I will look tired -- that's true of all mom-in-the-hospital shots. But I really don't want the reaction to the pictures to be "Oh, she's so beautiful! [snort] What's up with your hair, dude?"

We have to go to... Dutch!

Some sophomores whom I'm never had in a class come hang out in my room sometimes after school. They're really funny kids, and I like them. I half-ignore them, because I'm usually working on something, but I also half-listen. Well, yesterday they were talking about doughnuts, and someone said something about a cheese doughnut. Two of them expressed disgust, and one suggested that it didn't sound too bad.

I piped in and said that once, when I was a kid, I went to the state fair with my dad, and there was a place selling Dutch pastries called Olie Bolies (I think that's right). They were deep fried pastries, very like doughnuts, and one was filled with melting cheese. It was delicious.

The kid who thought cheese doughnuts sounded good then said "Mmm... We have to go to ... Dutch!" You could even see her thinking about where the hell Dutch stuff came from, but it didn't come to her in time.

I also was eavesdropping during the third period social studies class that's in my room when I heard a kid say "cunt" fairly loudly. He's a really good kid, and he was smiling pleasantly when my head whipped around to look at him, so I wasn't even sure I'd heard him right. But then I caught him again, telling another kid that he thought cunt was a bad word, but didn't know what it meant. He's in special ed, so I didn't want to come down too hard on him, but I did tell him that it was a very naughty word, one he did not want to get caught saying. Sheesh. I mean, say it all you want outside of school if you know what it means. Cunty cunt McCunterson. But not just at regular volume during social studies!

Finis... almost

Finis.
Originally uploaded by Mamluke

Well, I've been thinking about posting an "OHMYGODIHAVESOMUCHTODO" post all week, and avoiding it because, well, I have so much to do.

But now it looks like it's all getting settled, thank goodness.

I had to catch up on all my grading... which I have!

I had to change a couple seniors' grades from last year so they could graduate... and I did.

I had to print new seating charts and book check-out lists... and it's done.

I had to hand over all the paperwork and information to the people taking over my clubs... and I have.

I had to clean up my classroom... and I'm almost there (there's still a stack of papers to be filed).

I had to give grade checks to the students and update their grades as appropriate... and I'm pretty much done.

I had to write out all the plans and procedures for my sub, and with the exception of the fact that I keep remembering more stuff to tell her... I'm done!

I had to arrange for her to get keys and an email address and tell everyone else to email her... and I have.

I had to make copies and stock up on supplies for her... and I did.

I had to proctor the exit exam... and it's over.

And then, at the last minute, I was handed enormous stacks of tests with impossible due dates on them... and I've cheated and delegated. (No, seriously, we have ONE normal length day this week and I was given TWO tests, each of which can take two normal class days to finish, and both of which had due dates of next week (Monday and Wednesday, respectively.)

There were a few other last minute "Can you do this" kind of things that I either did or turned down.

So with a few exceptions (a couple more presentations and posters to grade, plus a paper that was LITERALLY handed to me as I typed this and two papers a senior was hoping I could look at), I'm almost outta here!

Okay, now there's a rush on, so I've got to run. But... yay!

First time

You know what's neat about this whole approaching due date thing? I've never done this before.

How often do you get to say that? Seriously, I went skydiving, but it wasn't so VERY different from being on a roller coaster. I had my first airplane ride a few years ago, but it wasn't that different from a train, really. I got food poisoning a while back, but it's not that different from the flu. When I bought a home, it was big, but it wasn't that different from signing a rental agreement. I mean, almost everything you try that's new, there's something comparable you have done.

This isn't like anything. I mean, in a week or so, my body is going to start doing something, completely on its own and without any help from me. It will be more or less out of my control when and how it begins (although I think I'll have some control over how I handle it all). I have no idea how long it will last, how much it will hurt, what I will be thinking and saying and doing during it all, and then at the very end, another person comes out and there's a whole new human in the world. Whoa, dude. That blows my mind so much harder than Pink Floyd's "The Wall" ever did.

The Kleenex formula

Kleenex
Originally uploaded by Nele en Jan

I have sorted something out.

In a classroom, if you have no Kleenex or tissue-like substititutes, the kids will ask to go to the restroom to get some at the rate of approximately one student per week.

If you have rough recycled paper towels and instruct kids to use those for tissue, they will use them at the rate of approximately three per week.

If you have a roll of toilet paper, Costco's Kirkland tissue, the students will use it at a rate of approximately 1 roll per month. (Keep in mind that the Kirkland brand boasts 450 sheets per roll -- at, say 4.5 sheets per nose blow, that's 100 nose blows in four weeks or 25 nose blows per week.)

But if you have actual Kleenex or other boxed "facial tissue," you are going to go through about a box every two days. And a standard box appears to be 95 tissues per box. Even if you go through only a box a week, that is still almost a fourfold increase over toilet paper.

Now, my math on the toilet paper could be wrong -- I tend to only use 4 or so sheets per nose blow, but I have seen kids practically mummifying their hands with toilet paper. Nevertheless, there is a clear statistical difference in the number of nose-blowing episodes the kids "require" when presented with the choice of nothing, paper towels, toilet paper, or Kleenex.

I bring it up today because for the last two days, I've been proctoring the exit exam in another teacher's classroom. I am too cheap to provide Kleenex, so I provide toilet paper. But the other teacher has Kleenex. Yesterday, the box appeared to be almost new. This morning, we ran out and the empty carton was thrown away before 9am.

P.S. Sweetie thinks I should keep my "peeing on the floor" dreams to myself in future. If I offended anyone or simply grossed you out, I'm sorry. I think I'm having water-breaking stress dreams.

What the hell?

Let's Go Back To Bed
Originally uploaded by *Piney*

I had a fitful night's sleep last night. The pregnancy books keep saying it'll be harder to sleep this trimester, but it really hasn't been that bad. I mean, obviously I'm getting up more to pee, and it's a bit of an effort (okay, it's Herculean) to roll my giant ass over, but usually after either of those disturbances, I can fall right back asleep. I have vivid dreams, but generally I forget them within a few seconds of waking. The baby tends to move and kick when I'm awake anyway, so she doesn't wake me.

But last night was altogether different. First, the baby seems to have learned a new trick -- grinding her head and shoulders into my pelvic bone. I don't think she's aware that she can't get out just yet. It reminded me of when Winnie the Pooh is stuck in the doorway. I wasn't having contractions particularly, it jus tfelt like she was upside-down and stretching her legs so that her head was pressing down. It was really uncomfortable!

Then I was having weird dreams -- in one, I was at the home of Suebob (who writes the blog Red Stapler), and I was taking a shower. Another young woman was there, and she was saying that she had a terrible case of "scale" (whatever the fuck that is). Luckily, her grandmother's tried-and-true remedy for it was purple pomegranate pee, which she knew I had. I DID have purple pomegranate pee, but how did she know? It was my secret shame! Well, she knew because I had leaked a little pee on the floor before I got in the shower.

Okay, cut to me being finished with the shower and putting on makeup. I had purchased a new foundation (which I recently have) from the Benefit counter without checking the color. I just let the saleslady determine my shade (also true). When I got it out, it was super-dark, but the saleslady had assured me that as you blended and rubbed it in, it got lighter. Unfortunately, I had gotten too much on, and I was having trouble blending it in, so I looked like C. Thomas Howell* in "Soul Man." I rubbed furiously, but still had patches of deep brown, so I rubbed them off completely with a washcloth.

Suebob, sorry for dream-peeing on your dream floor.

*How do I remember this? Let's all thank VH1 for not letting bad pop culture die.

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day $10
Originally uploaded by movieposter22

I just wanted to tell everyone that I enjoyed the heck out of this movie.

Mom and I went to see it yesterday, and it was just a really pleasant flick. Nothing crazy deep, but still very charming. The Frances McDormand character has incredible chemistry with one of the gentlemen characters from practically the moment they meet, and the Amy Adams character has instant chemistry with yet another young man onscreen. It's so well-crafted that you just feel, in an instant, who is meant to be with whom.

I've seen Amy Adams in three films now -- Junebug, Enchanted, and this one -- and she just lights up the screen. It's not even necessarily that she's beautiful (although she is), it's that she has this incredible on-screen charisma. I simply like her and find myself rooting for her.

The sets and costumes are fantastic, too, and I can't help but feel covetous of all the 30's lingerie! (Even the whalebone girdles are prettier than those nursing bras I just bought.)

There are also some sort of poignant moments. The film is set just before the beginning of WWII, and when the planes first start flying overhead, the young folks are all cheering and having cocktails. The two more mature characters share a moment that really felt sincere and not overblown.

Anyway, somehow it strikes me as the kind of film that may not be in theaters long, so if you happen to have a couple hours to spare, go check it out -- it wasn't even that long!

Yet more degrees of Sacramento

While I was talking to Monkeygirl tonight, I remembered that also in Midtown Monthly there was a short profile on my friend Char's tattoo studio, Sideshow Studios. There was also an article on the Lemmies, a band that contains members of Velvet Fury, a band my band played with on a couple occasions.

And on the same day that I saw G3 and my cousin within moments, I also saw, about one minute later, Chris Macias, a local music writer I used to hang out with when he was dating my friend Joanna. He also worked at the Bee when I did. (Well, he still does.)

But speaking of stuff like that, we went to Second Saturday and while there, I ran into Beth, a blog pal whose dad and my mom go way back. I also ran into my favorite waiter at Tres Hermanas, who may also be my favorite waiter of all time. At Sara Jane, I ran into Cody, a guy who I met while doing, ahem, Rocky Horror Picture show years ago and who was on the diving team at Horticulturalist High when my dad was the diving coach. But wait, because moments before that I saw Drummergirl's friend Leenda right outside the shop and talked to her for a few minutes. But wait again, because moments before that I saw (but didn't talk to) someone I am 98% certain I was really good friends with in high school, but who has since had sex reassignment surgery. But I haven't seen him since "him" was the correct pronoun to use, so it took it a moment to register adn by that time, he was lost in the crowd.

Semi-charmed life

I hate that song, but I do understand the concept.

Remember yesterday when I was bitching at length about not having maternity leave? Today I was going to talk about why it wasn't just selfish, that I was concerned about younger teachers, too, and single ones, and ones without the great childcare option that I have.

But it was a sunny morning, and I came out and read the paper in the hammock, and then Sweetie made me a decaf soy latte. I enjoyed it with baklava outdoors (while crazy gay neighbor listened to what still sounds like synthesized opera and did his jungle-monkey laugh into the phone). I did a little cleaning, and the tax guy called and said I could pick up our paperwork today. I went out there at noon, we talked at length about literature and music, and then he had me sign the paperwork, mentioning casually that we are getting a return that makes the maternity leave thing a non-issue. And will probably cover new computers and bookshelves, or maybe a new roof.

So.... that was a good start to my errand-running! I went to the mall and had a frozen yogurt -- my coupon had expired, but I wasn't really concerned about that at the moment. I bought Sarah Vowell's Assasination Vacation and read that while I ate chocolate and peanut butter yogurt, mixed, then went to Urban Outfitters and looked at accessories and goofy stuff and bought two more books. Then I wandered into the mall and bought fancy Bliss hand cream, and on the way out, thought to stop in Penney's, where I suspected I might find nursing bras. It took a while, since there was only one gal working and a huge sale, but finally someone directed me to them. I tried them on (well, one in each brand), and ended up getting three since it was a buy-two-get-one-free sale. I once saw a comedial talking about nursing bras as though they were the answer to every man's prayers -- no fiddling with the hooks anymore, because the cup just popped right open. As it turns out, though, these bras are so incredibly unattractive and industrial-looking that they are packaged in a cardboard box in what I can only imagine is tacit acknowledgement by the marketing department that there is nothing appealing enough about these bras to display them on a hanger.

In any case, then I went to Jo-Ann's Fabrics, where, still feeling flush, I bought enough cotton knit fabric to make my own Moby Wrap, but cuter, since mine has strawberries and daisies on it. I also got a springy wreath for the front door and some jelly beans, because those bastards put candy by the line to the front counter.

(Oh my god, I'm in the hammock again, and crazy gay neighbor is grunting in his backyard and I don't know why.)

And finally, I went grocery shopping. It occurred to me that this may be the last time I go grocery shopping pre-baby. That sort of means a lot of different things. For example, it might be the last time I go while my body feels so wrecked and tired and heavy. It also might be the last time I go with a good night's sleep behind me. It will be the last time for a while that I buy my lunches for work. It's so strange to think that this journey is almost over and another one is about to begin.

At home, I got to talk on the phone to most of my in-laws, which was awesome. (Although next time, we are going to have to make SURE Sweetie gets to talk to them, too, because everybody wanted to talk to the seed-bearer, but then we hung up before he got to talk to more people.)

Tonight Monkeygirl and I are going to 2nd Saturday, I think. We haven't decided what's up for dinner, but I'm hoping the three of us can all go to sushi. Mmm, sushi.

And now for something completely different.
Fellow Sacramentans and I often joke that you can play "6 degrees of Sacramento" and find that you know pretty much everyone who grew up here. It's not a small town, but it is a small town, sort of. And that was reinforced well for me this week, when I first saw my friend G3 getting on the freeway as I was getting off. I was still thinking that was funny when I pulled around the corner and saw my cousin lurking at the light rail station. Today I was in Borders when I saw a girl I had a few grad classes with and who worked with mt high school students on Poetry Out Loud. I talked to her briefly, then grabbed my books and headed toward the cookbook section where I saw the dean of the department where I took those classes, Professor Hennelly, whose daughter used to live a few doors down from my mom. And then in the grocery store, I saw one of my co-workers. But wait -- it wasn't just any co-worker. It was my bathroom nemesis! It's been a while, so let me refresh your memory; she stays in the bathroom for something like 20 minutes at a time, and every day wears clothes that look like she got them at pole-dancers-R-us. She never repeats an outfit, and the great majority of them are leather or suede. She's the talk of the school. But today?? Today she was wearing jeans and a windbreaker!! I've never seen her in anything approaching normal before! Amazing.

Not to mention the fact that just last month, while Suzanne was visiting, we ran into someone at the True Love Cafe whom I had not seen since high school.

Furthermore, the other night I picked up a new (I think) magazine called "Midtown Monthly." On the cover was a photo of a guy whose hair was all Cousin-Itted in front of his face, but in big font, it said "Woodhouse." "Hm," I thought to myself, "I wonder if that's Chris Woodhouse, the kid who didn't speak in high school except to me and who later was in several local bands?" I picked up the magazine, and indeed it was. I read the rest of the magazine this morning, and there was a small feature on Keith Lowell Jensen. Okay, not that surprising, because he is a local semi-celeb, but I have about two degrees of separation from him via Short Bus megazine and my old band (which he came to see once, then wrote about). The wine review was written by the younger sister of a guy who was a very good friend of mine in high school. Several other articles were about or by people I have had some contact with. It was almost eerie. I'm thinking of subscribing just so I can see if the trend continues.

It's a shame, really

Money!
Originally uploaded by Tracy O

I'm not unhappy, I'm just surprised. I may have covered this before, but I can't recall. Did you know that teachers get NO maternity leave at all?

Now, I know some folks feel that maternity leave shouldn't exist -- that if we breeders want to pop out babies, we should just suck it up and make sure we have the money. On the other hand, there's the whole "keeping the species alive" factor, and it sure wouldn't hurt to have moms at home for at least a little while with their offspring, yeah?

The official policy, at least at my school district, is that you have to take ALL your sick leave first. At that point, if you are still on a doctor's note (6 weeks for natural birth, 8 for Cesarean), you can collect your pay MINUS the substitute's pay for the remainder of the time you're on the note. After that, you just don't get paid.

Now, as it happens, I am a sick-leave hoarder. I don't like to take days off, I don't like having a sub, and I don't often get so sick that I *need* to stay home (knock wood). So I have just shy of 8 weeks saved up (Fun fact: that's 10 days per year times 8 years, minus two weeks I took for surgery and two I took for Hawaii, leaving 20 actual sick days I've taken in the last 8 years, or roughly 2.5 days per year).

What all that means, of course, is that I can't take advantage of the differential pay at all. After my sick leave is up, I just don't get paid at all.

I've had this conversation a couple times, and at this point, someone always says "But what about FMLA?" Ah yes. FMLA is good for this much: I can take the time off and not get paid and they won't fire me. That's the extent of it. I don't lose my job. Now that's better than BEFORE we had that protection, but that's really all it is.

Next, I usually hear "But what about disability?" Yeah, no. Teachers don't pay into state disability, and I had no idea I needed private disability insurance. It's one of those things that never came up -- no mentor teacher, no crusty veteran ever said "Hey, you oughta get private disability insurance in case you ever want to go on maternity leave." I think the grizzled old veterans I listened to were so far past their childbearing years that they didn't even think about it. (Mind you, now that I am becoming a grizzled old veteran, I'm going to tell EVERY young teacher I know.)

Finally, today someone said "Well, what about CalSTRS?" (It's our retirement system.) Apparently, they offer some sort of disability benefit. I checked their web site and sent a message asking about it. Alas, no. They only have disability benefits if you're permanently impaired, which childbirth doesn't do to you.

The long and the short of it is that if I want to stay home with this child, provide her with the presence of her mom (and the backup is grandma, so it's not like I'm going to be forced to shuttle her to the orphanage), breastfeed her, and bond until she is three months old (which I think is reasonable), then we are going to have to suck it up and take a month without pay.

I have more to say, but I'm out of time. Laters...

My house feels so full of life

HAFT SEEN OVERLOAD!
Originally uploaded by Menomena

It's not officially Spring yet (two weeks), but it's been feeling very Spring-y around here.

Persian New Year, which coincides with the vernal equinox, is on the 21st, the same day the baby is due. I have begun to put up the Haft Seen table, and have a hyacinth, apple, orange, some fresh flowers, a head of garlic, a candle, and some sprouting wheat on the mantle. The hyacinth smells incredible, and the whole living room is filled with the heady fragrance. The wheat has already started growing little leaves of grass in its jar.

The baby's room is all ready for her arrival (don't come too early, sweetheart, but you're welcome anytime after the end of school on the 14th!). The hammock is up, the sun is shining, we're healthy and happy... I had a doctor's appointment yesterday and everything is on track.

If I haven't popped before the 14th, the staff band is being dusted off to play the Pretenders' "Middle of the Road" at the spirit rally next Friday. If there ends up being video of my 39-week pregnant bootie singing "I got a kid, I'm 33 baby!" (lyrically, only a little premature), I'll be sure to post it.

Okay, a bajillion things to do here at school. Take care!

Exceptionally nice ordinary weekend!

We are having sunshine and warm weather, so on Friday, I told Sweetie that if it continued, I was going to make him put up the hammock. Yesterday morning I slept in a bit, and when I woke up I fooled around on the computer for a bit. I was having a major French toast craving, but I thought it might go away in time. It didn't, so I decided to go satisfy it. I took the newspaper to 33rd Street Bistro and ordered their cinnamon challah French toast. It was delicious!

When I came home, Sweetie had not only hung the hammock, but hosed off all the patio furniture and gotten out the umbrella, too. He dragged the comforter out there, and I nestled in for a long magazine-reading and napping session.

I got my grocery shopping done in the afternoon, and there were Girl Scouts at the store, so I got some cookies, too! (Caramel De-Lites, Peanut Butter Patties, and Thin Mints.)

There was one couple at our childbirth class that we hit it off with, so I've stayed in contact and we all went out for dinner last night at Tres Hermanas. She's due 6 days before I am, which wouldn't in itself be a good basis for a dinner conversation, much less a friendship, but we had all sorts of other things in common, too. They're sci-fi nerds and book people, and in fact we talked so long at dinner that the waitress kept coming back to, like, rearrange our napkins until we got the hint that they would like the table. We went across the street to True Love, where we got cocoas (or in one case, a Michael Jackson -- a half white chocolate and half dark chocolate mocha). The other gal and I sat on the only comfy seat in the place and promptly got stuck (it's a really low seat -- we both needed help getting up!). Our conversation was punctuated by the hearty, enthusiastic yells of a gentleman nearby who was watching Bruce Lee movies on a laptop. It was a nice evening.

Then this morning was waffle morning and I read the whole paper. I've been lazy, but soon I'll clean up and hang out with mom. I think we're going to put in my car seat today! Yowza! My due date calculator thing says I have 18 days left.

Incidentally, there was something in the paper (well, in the online comments to an article) that made me pissy, but I'll save that for later.