Oh hi! If I only blog once a month or so, I sure do have a lot of things on my mind to say when I get to it!
First and foremost was Christmas. Azadeh is a pain in the ass about 30% of the time, but when she is sweet, she is the sweetest. She was so excited for all her presents -- she spent most of Christmas morning clutching gifts to her chest and yelling things like, "Real denim jeans!!" or "Mom, you knew exactly what I wanted!!" "Uh, you haven't opened it yet." "I know, but you wrote my name on the tag in CURSIVE!" She actually got two different Spirograph sets, and she opened the second one in front of her godmother. I knew what was coming, a duplicate gift, and I was a little nervous. "Oh my gosh, now I have TWO Spirographs! This is the best ever!!" She was an angel. Well, until later that night. Sigh.
People kept saying, "Oh, Lochlan's first Christmas. Isn't that exciting?" Uh... I don't know. He doesn't realize it's Christmas, can't open presents, and has no idea what's going on around him. So... no? But in the event, it actually was quite sweet. He loved being passed from auntie to cousin to grandparent, he adored staring at the tree-topper and the lights, and I daresay he even liked his presents. He just barely hit the milestone where he can sort of grab things and stuff them in his maw, so he has grabbed and stuffed each of his toys in turn.
Speaking of that adorable maw, he appears to be teething. I know it's early, but not outside the bounds of possibility. He has a very hard ridge where the two bottom front teeth are, he's drooling a considerable amount, and he gnaws on everything he can get hold of. So it's either that or he's part wolf.
His physical therapy is going well. He is getting stronger all the time. He's not ready to graduate yet. In fact, I think I need to get used to the idea that this is an ongoing enterprise. But he is good at his exercises and he is getting better at things like looking in both directions and at keeping his head straight up and down when looking ahead (instead of letting it wobble to his left, which is his natural inclination).
He is still the smiliest boy that ever lived. I am currently at work on sleep training. I read a bunch of stuff and am sort of smooshing together what works for me. I don't want him to cry it out, but I do want him to fall asleep in his crib without my boob in his mouth. The in-between seems to be feeding him, swaddling him and singing to him, and putting him down awake. At the moment, he is fine with this for a while, then he starts to cry, so I pick him up and nurse him again until he's calm, then put him back down, still awake, then sing him to sleep. I'm hoping this eventually translates into what I want, being able to put him down awake, sing him a song or two, and leave. But for now it works for us. And then from about 3am on, I'm his human pacifier. I've decided to leave that alone for now. I'm getting plenty of sleep, so I can't complain. I almost feel guilty for trying any sleep training at all, since he's such a marvelous sleeper compared to his sister!
The adults, you ask? We're well. Sweetie blew out his knee again and has to have surgery to reconstruct it. That's a bummer. But he is tough and mighty and prepared to recover from it and play basketball again! I'm healthy and happy, if hanging on to the baby fat (and the Thanksgiving and Christmas treats fat). It's been nice-ish to be back at work. I enjoy the kids, and the short day makes it go by quickly.
I'm looking forward to the New Year, as well as to our first year doing something on New Year's Eve in ages (well, unless you count watching Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern on the couch with Monkeygirl). Don't worry -- we'll be careful out driving! We will, in all likelihood, head home well before midnight.
The only job I'm not looking forward to is taking down all the Christmas decor, although I suspect that's coming in a day or two. Our tree is still beautiful, and has hardly dropped any needles, so it seems like a shame. Ah well.
Take care,
CM
Monday, December 29, 2014
Tuesday, December 02, 2014
High school kids are annoying
Oh hey -- I don't mean for this to be one of those fire-me blogs where I complain that kids are awful. I don't think they're awful. I think they're wonderful little snowflakes with endless potential who sometimes coo like pigeons.
Yeah. That's what my juniors are up to. That warbling pigeon coo, during any time of transition, or sometimes immediately after I ask for quiet. And then the freshmen started doing it, too.
And I thought it was odd, because they've never done that before. Whistled, yes. Broken each other's pencils by hitting them with other pencils. Said "skeet skeet." Played kendama under the desks. Pulled the strings of their hoodie so that only their nose was visible. Engaged in vocal fry. Broken into Eminem songs. Broken into various other songs (Rebecca Black's "Friday" was popular for a heartbreaking while). Played a game wherein they shot imaginary blowdarts at each other that caused them to freeze in place.
Look, teenagers are weird, and there is no getting around it. It just occurred to me, after a bout of cooing today, that the weird and annoying behaviors really go in cycles. There are weird and annoying trends. And right now, apparently, it's pigeon noises. How delightful.
Yeah. That's what my juniors are up to. That warbling pigeon coo, during any time of transition, or sometimes immediately after I ask for quiet. And then the freshmen started doing it, too.
And I thought it was odd, because they've never done that before. Whistled, yes. Broken each other's pencils by hitting them with other pencils. Said "skeet skeet." Played kendama under the desks. Pulled the strings of their hoodie so that only their nose was visible. Engaged in vocal fry. Broken into Eminem songs. Broken into various other songs (Rebecca Black's "Friday" was popular for a heartbreaking while). Played a game wherein they shot imaginary blowdarts at each other that caused them to freeze in place.
Look, teenagers are weird, and there is no getting around it. It just occurred to me, after a bout of cooing today, that the weird and annoying behaviors really go in cycles. There are weird and annoying trends. And right now, apparently, it's pigeon noises. How delightful.
Friday, November 21, 2014
Updates! Baby is 11 weeks.
One of the things I hear the most from people is, "he's so alert!" It strikes me as funny, not only because both my children are/were extremely alert when awake, but also pretty much every baby I've ever known is also. I mean, are there some really dopey babies out there?
A question I get a lot is, "How is Zadie handling it?" And the answer is, honestly, pretty well! One great thing is that Lochlan sleeps through the night, so he's not crying and keeping her up. Also, on the rare occasions that he does cry, she still doesn't usually wake up, because it's not super-loud and we can comfort him pretty quickly. Also, she's great at trying to calm him down (even though sometimes her little songs grate on us), and she will fetch things for me pretty reliably.
On the other hand, sometimes I think back to her babyhood and know how much easier certain things were -- like, no one ever randomly shouted in her ear when she was drifting to sleep. And no one moved my damn Boppy all over the house. And no one pre-tested all her toys. Have you ever had one of those talks with someone where you're like, "Remember that time we went ice skating?" and they just BLANK OUT, like, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't think that was me." That's the look she gives us when we suggest maybe she not play with his toys, or use his blanket, or try on his hat, or sit on his swing, or appropriate his Boppy. "Honey, please don't break his xylophone before he's even old enough to use it." Blank look, as if to say, "I'm sorry; I don't speak the language."
Still, Lochlan is such an easy kid that a lot of her nonsense is mitigated by the fact that I am well-rested. You really cannot say enough good things about a kid who is not running sleep deprivation experiments on you.
People ask, "What if you'd had him first?" Honestly, we probably wouldn't have waited so long for a second. But assuming that in this scenario, the second is Zadie, we'd have had a nasty surprise. This way, we've had a pleasant one instead! And we didn't have to deal with two in diapers at the same time, so I think it all works out.
I'm crazy about them both, and I couldn't be happier that they seem to love each other. He looks at her with utter fascination. You can practically see little hearts drifting up from his eyes into the ether.
(Well, perhaps you can't see the hearts in this pic.)
A question I get a lot is, "How is Zadie handling it?" And the answer is, honestly, pretty well! One great thing is that Lochlan sleeps through the night, so he's not crying and keeping her up. Also, on the rare occasions that he does cry, she still doesn't usually wake up, because it's not super-loud and we can comfort him pretty quickly. Also, she's great at trying to calm him down (even though sometimes her little songs grate on us), and she will fetch things for me pretty reliably.
On the other hand, sometimes I think back to her babyhood and know how much easier certain things were -- like, no one ever randomly shouted in her ear when she was drifting to sleep. And no one moved my damn Boppy all over the house. And no one pre-tested all her toys. Have you ever had one of those talks with someone where you're like, "Remember that time we went ice skating?" and they just BLANK OUT, like, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't think that was me." That's the look she gives us when we suggest maybe she not play with his toys, or use his blanket, or try on his hat, or sit on his swing, or appropriate his Boppy. "Honey, please don't break his xylophone before he's even old enough to use it." Blank look, as if to say, "I'm sorry; I don't speak the language."
Still, Lochlan is such an easy kid that a lot of her nonsense is mitigated by the fact that I am well-rested. You really cannot say enough good things about a kid who is not running sleep deprivation experiments on you.
People ask, "What if you'd had him first?" Honestly, we probably wouldn't have waited so long for a second. But assuming that in this scenario, the second is Zadie, we'd have had a nasty surprise. This way, we've had a pleasant one instead! And we didn't have to deal with two in diapers at the same time, so I think it all works out.
I'm crazy about them both, and I couldn't be happier that they seem to love each other. He looks at her with utter fascination. You can practically see little hearts drifting up from his eyes into the ether.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
Well baby checkup
Lochlan had a checkup today, so if you're wondering, he is now 11 pounds, 11.4 ounces. He is also 24" (which is, yes, two feet) tall. He's in the 81st percentile for height, but only the 24th for weight. Still, he's following the curve on both, so we just figure I make tall, skinny kids (that's gotta be Sweetie's genes, though!!).
He got three shots, which made him angry, but then we were done. He is perfect in every way.
He grabbed a bing hank of my hair this morning, and my first reaction was "Yay, a good grip!" and my second was... "oh, shit. We've entered the hair-grabbing stage."
As far as what we're noticing at home, he watches people really, really intently. Like, he just STARES into your eyes, and he'll maintain eye contact for longer than most adults. He also watches you when you talk or make faces, and he tries hard to imitate you. I know you can't conclusively know whether your kid is smart or not at only two months old, but I can't imagine a kid who studies the world the way he does being anything less than pretty clever.
He loves to be held, and he still sleeps a ton, which is amazing. It's so lovely to have a cuddlebug. He also just loves to smile and laugh.
He got three shots, which made him angry, but then we were done. He is perfect in every way.
He grabbed a bing hank of my hair this morning, and my first reaction was "Yay, a good grip!" and my second was... "oh, shit. We've entered the hair-grabbing stage."
As far as what we're noticing at home, he watches people really, really intently. Like, he just STARES into your eyes, and he'll maintain eye contact for longer than most adults. He also watches you when you talk or make faces, and he tries hard to imitate you. I know you can't conclusively know whether your kid is smart or not at only two months old, but I can't imagine a kid who studies the world the way he does being anything less than pretty clever.
He loves to be held, and he still sleeps a ton, which is amazing. It's so lovely to have a cuddlebug. He also just loves to smile and laugh.
Friday, October 24, 2014
Kids, man!
Okay, the kids are alright! Lochlan is pretty much mellow. My dad said earlier that in every picture I've posted, he looks like, "Fuck it, I'm happy!" And I think that's a pretty good description. I mean, he fusses and cries, but just not that much. He sleeps a lot. And eats. And then he smiles, and that's pretty much his whole life.
Azadeh loves him, although she is somewhat jealous of the sheer amount of time I have to give him. But what's sweet is how charmed she is by his smiles, how much she wants to hold him, and how quickly she jumps to comfort him if he cries. I hear myself in her when she talks to him... "Who's a good little Lochlan boy? Who's a Lochlan bear? Who's a happy boy? You are! You are, Buddy!"
He looks a lot like Sweetie and a whole lot like Z, and a tiny little bit, maybe from the side, like Mr. Magoo. What, one can't notice a semi-unflattering resemblance to a cartoon character in their own kid?
Fuck it, I'm happy!
Azadeh loves him, although she is somewhat jealous of the sheer amount of time I have to give him. But what's sweet is how charmed she is by his smiles, how much she wants to hold him, and how quickly she jumps to comfort him if he cries. I hear myself in her when she talks to him... "Who's a good little Lochlan boy? Who's a Lochlan bear? Who's a happy boy? You are! You are, Buddy!"
He looks a lot like Sweetie and a whole lot like Z, and a tiny little bit, maybe from the side, like Mr. Magoo. What, one can't notice a semi-unflattering resemblance to a cartoon character in their own kid?
Just a slight resemblance, that's all I'm saying.
Anyway, life around here is pretty awesome, even though Sweetie dislocated his knee again (OUCH), and I have to go back to work soon.
Fuck it, I'm happy!
Wednesday, October 08, 2014
5 weeks (almost)
Well, the boy is sleeping a little less, but just a little! He has long, wakeful, usually happy hours. The other day I decided to look up some milestones for newborns, and eye contact was said to happen in a few weeks from now. He's beaten the shit out of that timeline. Lochlan looks right at you -- right into your eyes -- and maintains eye contact for as long as you will.
In fact, a couple times I've felt guilty because I was nursing him and looked up to check Facebook or whatever, then looked down at him and found he was still staring into my eyes. It feels a little like I should reciprocate!
His neck is getting stronger all the time. He looks in both directions, although in his sleep he still naturally flops his head to his left, and it's obviously still harder for him to turn his head to the right, especially during tummy time.
He likes to be carried and held, and if he's in a baby carrier, he'll sleep for hours. If I put him in the swing, I can get about 20 minutes. I think he really responds to body warmth, and maybe the sound of my heartbeat.
One thing I'm trying with him that I failed at with Zadie is putting him down in his crib when he's awake. She screamed bloody murder at being put down at all, so usually I would nurse her to sleep. Of course, later on when she stopped nursing, that meant we had a hard time ever getting her to sleep. So tonight, for example, he was really tired, and his little eyelids were drooping, so I laid him down and waited a few minutes. His eyes were still open just a minute later, but after about five minutes, he was asleep. I hope it helps in the long run, but what may help in the long run is that he's just a very different baby than she was.
He made a couple sounds today that really sounded like laughter. And he had been smiling as well. He's just a good-natured boy. It's a real delight to have him around.
In fact, a couple times I've felt guilty because I was nursing him and looked up to check Facebook or whatever, then looked down at him and found he was still staring into my eyes. It feels a little like I should reciprocate!
His neck is getting stronger all the time. He looks in both directions, although in his sleep he still naturally flops his head to his left, and it's obviously still harder for him to turn his head to the right, especially during tummy time.
He likes to be carried and held, and if he's in a baby carrier, he'll sleep for hours. If I put him in the swing, I can get about 20 minutes. I think he really responds to body warmth, and maybe the sound of my heartbeat.
One thing I'm trying with him that I failed at with Zadie is putting him down in his crib when he's awake. She screamed bloody murder at being put down at all, so usually I would nurse her to sleep. Of course, later on when she stopped nursing, that meant we had a hard time ever getting her to sleep. So tonight, for example, he was really tired, and his little eyelids were drooping, so I laid him down and waited a few minutes. His eyes were still open just a minute later, but after about five minutes, he was asleep. I hope it helps in the long run, but what may help in the long run is that he's just a very different baby than she was.
He made a couple sounds today that really sounded like laughter. And he had been smiling as well. He's just a good-natured boy. It's a real delight to have him around.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Zadie and the black belt
The night after Lochlan was born, Zadie received her Tiny Tiger black belt in karate. Now she has moved up to the Little Dragons class, where she will work to get another black belt before she enters the Juniors class. So don't be fooled if she tells you she has a black belt in karate. But still...
I've been wanting to write this for a while, but it's hard to get time with both hands free with a little one around. And I really wanted to give it some serious time and attention.
I am SO proud of her. Let me give you a little history. She started karate with a free month the instructor offered after her pre-school class took a field trip to his dojo. He (or possibly the organizing parent) had mixed up the times for the class visit, so he offered everyone a free month. Not a bad marketing strategy, though, as I can think of at least five kids from that class who still take karate there.
Anyway, Zadie had previously done soccer, which was a non-starter. I wanted her to have some dad bonding time, so I signed her up for Daddy and Me soccer, but he would get so frustrated with her that I ended up taking her. And it was awful -- she mostly just ran for the street and tried hard to make it into traffic.
Then she tried ballet. Ballet was also awful. Ballet class, for her, was 30 minutes of fidgeting and trying to hang from the barre and being told not to fidget.
We found a ballet/tap class at another studio, and they had older, more experienced instructors there. It was basically the same deal, though. She made it to a recital (although she almost experienced her first stage dive at the dress rehearsal), and there, we saw the kids' hip-hop group.
I thought it would be perfect for her -- it was much more active and energetic than ballet. But she was in it for just a few months, and she was in trouble and time-out more often than not. She distracted all the other kids from their learning. With a heavy sigh, with most of her costume for the next recital already purchased, and without finishing out a month we'd paid for, I quit.
Karate was different from the start. Not a LOT different, mind you -- she still fidgeted, got in trouble, and had to sit in the hall. But the instructor was so patient, so firm, so... zen? She listened to him better than to the other teachers, and there was a tangible reward for good behavior at each class, too -- a stripe of tape on her belt. After a certain number of stripes, they could earn a black stripe, after which, they were eligible for promotion to the next belt color.
There were plenty of days when she didn't get stripes. And less than a year into the class, she got into some serious trouble and was asked to take a month off. We did.
But when she came back, it was better. Mostly. Nothing's ever, like, 100% good with her. She kept earning stripes, she kept going up a belt level, and she eventually got her green belt. But there was some personal drama with another girl in the class, and Zadie was having a rough period, and she got asked to take a break again. A long one. We took a couple months off.
When we came back, she was behind all her former classmates. She quickly got to purple, then to brown, but her classmates were already brown belts, and they were already working on their black belt projects. At one point, he told us she was eligible to be promoted, but the next ceremony was just too soon for her to promote to black belt.
So she watched while pretty much everyone she'd been taking classes with got their black belts, and then they all disappeared from her classes. As it turned out, though, this was a blessing! Suddenly, she was the most-experienced student in almost all her classes, and she became the class leader about 85% of the time. She liked the extra responsibility (although she was still often silly), and she stepped up to it.
In about May, around the same time, she got her sparring gear and started attending Saturday morning classes, where she got to spar with other students. She loved it! She was really blossoming. At the same time, she had to start planning her black belt project.
One thing I love about her instructor is that he's very community service-minded. No one gets a black belt in his dojo without a service project. Kids have collected books for schools, games and art supplies for Shriners Hospital, blankets and newspapers for the animal shelter, and they have done river clean-ups, built bat houses, and so many more things. Zadie wanted to help the homeless, but she was a little unfocused as to how to do it. I suggested helping Tubman House, a local organization that helps homeless teens who are pregnant or have children already. It's a great organization, and I contacted them about what they needed. Over the course of a few months, she collected a good deal of stuff -- it took several trips from the car to drop it all off!
And in September, in a ceremony that I missed (we just couldn't get out of the hospital fast enough), she finally earned her black belt.
It was later than all her friends. It was after some long breaks. It was despite a sometimes uphill battle. But for me, that makes it even more something to be proud of. Zadie, the flighty, the ADHD, the girl who reads books by opening them in the middle, reading a couple pages, then flipping elsewhere... she set a goal, and she worked toward it, and she made it!! A lot of things come easy to her, but this didn't. And the fact that it didn't, but she did it anyway, is what makes me the most proud of my little black belt.
I've been wanting to write this for a while, but it's hard to get time with both hands free with a little one around. And I really wanted to give it some serious time and attention.
I am SO proud of her. Let me give you a little history. She started karate with a free month the instructor offered after her pre-school class took a field trip to his dojo. He (or possibly the organizing parent) had mixed up the times for the class visit, so he offered everyone a free month. Not a bad marketing strategy, though, as I can think of at least five kids from that class who still take karate there.
Anyway, Zadie had previously done soccer, which was a non-starter. I wanted her to have some dad bonding time, so I signed her up for Daddy and Me soccer, but he would get so frustrated with her that I ended up taking her. And it was awful -- she mostly just ran for the street and tried hard to make it into traffic.
Then she tried ballet. Ballet was also awful. Ballet class, for her, was 30 minutes of fidgeting and trying to hang from the barre and being told not to fidget.
We found a ballet/tap class at another studio, and they had older, more experienced instructors there. It was basically the same deal, though. She made it to a recital (although she almost experienced her first stage dive at the dress rehearsal), and there, we saw the kids' hip-hop group.
I thought it would be perfect for her -- it was much more active and energetic than ballet. But she was in it for just a few months, and she was in trouble and time-out more often than not. She distracted all the other kids from their learning. With a heavy sigh, with most of her costume for the next recital already purchased, and without finishing out a month we'd paid for, I quit.
Karate was different from the start. Not a LOT different, mind you -- she still fidgeted, got in trouble, and had to sit in the hall. But the instructor was so patient, so firm, so... zen? She listened to him better than to the other teachers, and there was a tangible reward for good behavior at each class, too -- a stripe of tape on her belt. After a certain number of stripes, they could earn a black stripe, after which, they were eligible for promotion to the next belt color.
White belt - 4 years old.
There were plenty of days when she didn't get stripes. And less than a year into the class, she got into some serious trouble and was asked to take a month off. We did.
But when she came back, it was better. Mostly. Nothing's ever, like, 100% good with her. She kept earning stripes, she kept going up a belt level, and she eventually got her green belt. But there was some personal drama with another girl in the class, and Zadie was having a rough period, and she got asked to take a break again. A long one. We took a couple months off.
When we came back, she was behind all her former classmates. She quickly got to purple, then to brown, but her classmates were already brown belts, and they were already working on their black belt projects. At one point, he told us she was eligible to be promoted, but the next ceremony was just too soon for her to promote to black belt.
So she watched while pretty much everyone she'd been taking classes with got their black belts, and then they all disappeared from her classes. As it turned out, though, this was a blessing! Suddenly, she was the most-experienced student in almost all her classes, and she became the class leader about 85% of the time. She liked the extra responsibility (although she was still often silly), and she stepped up to it.
In about May, around the same time, she got her sparring gear and started attending Saturday morning classes, where she got to spar with other students. She loved it! She was really blossoming. At the same time, she had to start planning her black belt project.
One thing I love about her instructor is that he's very community service-minded. No one gets a black belt in his dojo without a service project. Kids have collected books for schools, games and art supplies for Shriners Hospital, blankets and newspapers for the animal shelter, and they have done river clean-ups, built bat houses, and so many more things. Zadie wanted to help the homeless, but she was a little unfocused as to how to do it. I suggested helping Tubman House, a local organization that helps homeless teens who are pregnant or have children already. It's a great organization, and I contacted them about what they needed. Over the course of a few months, she collected a good deal of stuff -- it took several trips from the car to drop it all off!
And in September, in a ceremony that I missed (we just couldn't get out of the hospital fast enough), she finally earned her black belt.
It was later than all her friends. It was after some long breaks. It was despite a sometimes uphill battle. But for me, that makes it even more something to be proud of. Zadie, the flighty, the ADHD, the girl who reads books by opening them in the middle, reading a couple pages, then flipping elsewhere... she set a goal, and she worked toward it, and she made it!! A lot of things come easy to her, but this didn't. And the fact that it didn't, but she did it anyway, is what makes me the most proud of my little black belt.
Warming up with side kicks before class.
Sparring (she's in the teal in each of these photos)
Point!
Point!
Friday, September 19, 2014
Two weeks (sigh... and a day)
Well, Lochlan is still doing life very well. He eats, sleeps, pees, poops, and sometimes looks around and smiles a bit. And that's pretty much his whole day. He has been (KNOCK WOOD, people) sleeping through the night. I mean, to me, that means 10 to about 4, and he does wake up to nurse at 4, but even then, we're not up for the day. He drifts back off, and so do I, until about 6. Honestly, it's a dream compared to his sister, who screamed and did not sleep. Apparently she's been telling people that he is loud, and I just wonder what she'd have thought about her baby-self!
He does have a mild condition called torticollis, and we had our first physical therapy appointment today. It basically just means the muscles on the left side of his neck are kind of short, so we need to help him stretch and help him build some strength in turning his head both ways. We've caught it and are treating it very early, so we should be able to fix it completely. We have appointments scheduled every two weeks for a while, and in the meantime, we have lots of things to do at home to help. It's probably because of his position in the womb -- I could even tell that for the last couple months, he was always lying on the same side. Anyway, it does not decrease his perfection in any way. And we quite liked Miss Julia, the physical therapist. So it's all good.
We're working hard to increase the amount of formula he takes so that he continues to gain weight. He's, like BARELY meeting his healthy weight gain goals. So I've about doubled how much formula he takes. He still nurses, of course, but I'm making an effort to make sure he stays awake to take some supplement, too.
You know -- I mean, if you read this, you KNOW -- I love Zadie, but I have to admit, we were very stressed at this point in her life. And I always hoped for a cuddler, which she was not. If you tried to hold her, she'd push her legs straight as if to try to stand. This dude LOVES to cuddle. He's been happily snuggled against my chest for two hours at this moment, and I'm going to have to wake him up to get him to eat. If he is on a warm human body, he is pretty much content (barring hunger or a wet diaper). So I'm really enjoying this happy new baby time, and my cuddlicious oxytocin high.
And have I mentioned? He's totally gorgeous. You can just see how content he is.
He does have a mild condition called torticollis, and we had our first physical therapy appointment today. It basically just means the muscles on the left side of his neck are kind of short, so we need to help him stretch and help him build some strength in turning his head both ways. We've caught it and are treating it very early, so we should be able to fix it completely. We have appointments scheduled every two weeks for a while, and in the meantime, we have lots of things to do at home to help. It's probably because of his position in the womb -- I could even tell that for the last couple months, he was always lying on the same side. Anyway, it does not decrease his perfection in any way. And we quite liked Miss Julia, the physical therapist. So it's all good.
We're working hard to increase the amount of formula he takes so that he continues to gain weight. He's, like BARELY meeting his healthy weight gain goals. So I've about doubled how much formula he takes. He still nurses, of course, but I'm making an effort to make sure he stays awake to take some supplement, too.
You know -- I mean, if you read this, you KNOW -- I love Zadie, but I have to admit, we were very stressed at this point in her life. And I always hoped for a cuddler, which she was not. If you tried to hold her, she'd push her legs straight as if to try to stand. This dude LOVES to cuddle. He's been happily snuggled against my chest for two hours at this moment, and I'm going to have to wake him up to get him to eat. If he is on a warm human body, he is pretty much content (barring hunger or a wet diaper). So I'm really enjoying this happy new baby time, and my cuddlicious oxytocin high.
And have I mentioned? He's totally gorgeous. You can just see how content he is.
Friday, September 12, 2014
One week!
Okay, a week and a day. Come on, it's hard to get the time to sit and write (or, while nursing, to type with TWO hands).
Anyway, knock wood, but this is like... the BEST KID EVER. No offense to his sister, but she never slept and cried a lot. He's the opposite. Like, here's our typical schedule:
6am: Nurse 20 minutes, sleep until 8.
8 - 10: Nurse, diaper, nurse, cuddle, nurse, diaper.
10-12: sleep
12: Nurse 20 minutes, maybe some looking around, diaper.
12:30 to 3: Sleep (during which time I could garden, strap him in and out of the carseat at multiple locations, or even -- I really did this today -- do some hammering with him in a sling on my chest)
3 to 3:20: Nurse.
3:20 to 5:30: sleep
5:30 to 6: Nurse
6-8: cuddle and sleep
8: Nurse, sleep, cuddle, look around
9: Nursing marathon with sleep breaks
10:30 to ?? (can't see the bedroom clock): Sleep
4ish: Nurse, back to sleep
It's so... peaceful.
And he's such a good communicator. Like, in parenting class, they tell you what the "hunger cues" are. They stick out their tongue, put their hands to their mouth, or turn their heads as if looking for a boob. He does all three, without any fussing or crying, as if to say, "The time to eat has arrived." If he could ring a tiny dinner bell instead, I think he would.
Diapers are a different matter. He first looks really pouty, then cries, and he cries throughout the diaper change until you've got the new one completely on. Then he seems to think, "Oh. Okay." And he stops.
People will tell you that babies don't smile until they are older, but this is BULLSHIT. I saw a smile yesterday, and then this morning he clearly smiled at me (perhaps it is telling that it was in response to me saying "Mama makes the milk"). I then took a video and captured a still from it (there's no way I'm fast enough to actually take a picture of a smile).
And this isn't even as big or definite as the one he made earlier. He also smiled when a stranger cooed to him in Home Depot (although this was in his sleep, as it was during the 12:30 to 3 period).
I'm sure there are tough times ahead -- I remember Zadie teething -- but for now, we are in a very peaceful, blissful, well-rested, happy place. And we love our little man.
By the way, we are nickname people. Zadie has many (in fact, Zadie IS a nickname). And so of course he is Lochie and Loch Ness Monster and Lockerbie (I know I will come to regret that) and Mister Man and Bossman ad infinitum. But more than probably anything else, we have been calling him Buddy. Which was also my grandfather's nickname. And there's something I like a lot about that.
Anyway, knock wood, but this is like... the BEST KID EVER. No offense to his sister, but she never slept and cried a lot. He's the opposite. Like, here's our typical schedule:
6am: Nurse 20 minutes, sleep until 8.
8 - 10: Nurse, diaper, nurse, cuddle, nurse, diaper.
10-12: sleep
12: Nurse 20 minutes, maybe some looking around, diaper.
12:30 to 3: Sleep (during which time I could garden, strap him in and out of the carseat at multiple locations, or even -- I really did this today -- do some hammering with him in a sling on my chest)
3 to 3:20: Nurse.
3:20 to 5:30: sleep
5:30 to 6: Nurse
6-8: cuddle and sleep
8: Nurse, sleep, cuddle, look around
9: Nursing marathon with sleep breaks
10:30 to ?? (can't see the bedroom clock): Sleep
4ish: Nurse, back to sleep
It's so... peaceful.
And he's such a good communicator. Like, in parenting class, they tell you what the "hunger cues" are. They stick out their tongue, put their hands to their mouth, or turn their heads as if looking for a boob. He does all three, without any fussing or crying, as if to say, "The time to eat has arrived." If he could ring a tiny dinner bell instead, I think he would.
Diapers are a different matter. He first looks really pouty, then cries, and he cries throughout the diaper change until you've got the new one completely on. Then he seems to think, "Oh. Okay." And he stops.
People will tell you that babies don't smile until they are older, but this is BULLSHIT. I saw a smile yesterday, and then this morning he clearly smiled at me (perhaps it is telling that it was in response to me saying "Mama makes the milk"). I then took a video and captured a still from it (there's no way I'm fast enough to actually take a picture of a smile).
I'm sure there are tough times ahead -- I remember Zadie teething -- but for now, we are in a very peaceful, blissful, well-rested, happy place. And we love our little man.
By the way, we are nickname people. Zadie has many (in fact, Zadie IS a nickname). And so of course he is Lochie and Loch Ness Monster and Lockerbie (I know I will come to regret that) and Mister Man and Bossman ad infinitum. But more than probably anything else, we have been calling him Buddy. Which was also my grandfather's nickname. And there's something I like a lot about that.
Monday, September 08, 2014
Random leftover tidbits
After the delivery, I went into the restroom and I heard a nurse ask the midwife something. The answer was, "we red-robined her." I finished up and said, "Uh, hey, what's a red robin?" I guess it just means they catheterized me to get some pee out, but they had done it after the birth because they hadn't had time to do it before the epidural. It just sounded so much like short-order cook talk! And of course, that was exacerbated by the fact that Red Robin is, in fact, a burger joint. With a memorable jingle and everything.
When we checked in, one of the first nurses asked what we were going to call him. I answered Lochlan, and she was like, "Oh, I know that name! There's a Lochlan on a reality show!" She couldn't remember which one. Mom and I both discreetly grabbed our phones to try to figure out what she was talking about. I mean, I don't mind him having a name that people are familiar with, but not if it's because he's some gel-haired douche on Jersey Shore or The Bachelor. (Although we couldn't figure it out that day, yesterday I found out he's on Last Comic Standing -- and he was funny, but didn't win, so all the better.)
The very first woman to greet us for some reason found Sweetie and me hilarious. I mean, a couple of well-timed quips about not having any more kids after this, and she was eating out of our hands. Unfortunately, it seems like this may have distracted her. When she came over with my ID bracelet, I raised my left hand (it seems to me that they usually do stuff on your non-dominant hand, and she approached from my left side). She was like, "Oh, do you want it on your left?" I said I didn't care, and offered up my right as well, but she was thrown for a loop. She said it didn't matter, so I held up my left again, which is where she affixed it. But then all night, the other nurses said things sotto voce to each other like, "Well, it's on her left wrist. Do you want me to move it? I don't know why..." I think she also may have missed a few things in admitting us, because I even heard one of the nurses say, "It seems like I'm doing the secretarial work, tonight, too."
They stressed early on that security was very important to them - when Sweetie and Mom came in, they had to get buzzed in, and they mustn't let anyone else through the door. We should not see anyone in street clothes. Everyone who came in would introduce themselves and tell us what they were there for, and we should be able to see their name tag. No one would take the baby away from me without Sweetie going with him. There was a long lecture. So the next day, when a nurse came to take him for his circumcision, she was pleasant, introduced herself, told me what was happening, and then put her hands on his bassinet thing to roll him away, and I was like... Can I see your ID tag first? She was the only one who had the thing tucked into her pocket, and also the only one who was set to take my kid out of my sight!
Lastly, one of the big issues we had with Z's birth was that the first midwife we saw did not do a fairly simple test, and turned us away instead. That sort of started the whole shitball rolling. I don't know that she did anything (or failed to do anything) that unusual, but naturally she stuck in my mind. So when she returned late Friday afternoon to discharge me and the baby, it seemed in some ways to bookend a 6 1/2 year story. Zadie's birth was so traumatic, and Lochlan's was so relatively easy, and it felt like a circle was complete. With a happy ending.
When we checked in, one of the first nurses asked what we were going to call him. I answered Lochlan, and she was like, "Oh, I know that name! There's a Lochlan on a reality show!" She couldn't remember which one. Mom and I both discreetly grabbed our phones to try to figure out what she was talking about. I mean, I don't mind him having a name that people are familiar with, but not if it's because he's some gel-haired douche on Jersey Shore or The Bachelor. (Although we couldn't figure it out that day, yesterday I found out he's on Last Comic Standing -- and he was funny, but didn't win, so all the better.)
The very first woman to greet us for some reason found Sweetie and me hilarious. I mean, a couple of well-timed quips about not having any more kids after this, and she was eating out of our hands. Unfortunately, it seems like this may have distracted her. When she came over with my ID bracelet, I raised my left hand (it seems to me that they usually do stuff on your non-dominant hand, and she approached from my left side). She was like, "Oh, do you want it on your left?" I said I didn't care, and offered up my right as well, but she was thrown for a loop. She said it didn't matter, so I held up my left again, which is where she affixed it. But then all night, the other nurses said things sotto voce to each other like, "Well, it's on her left wrist. Do you want me to move it? I don't know why..." I think she also may have missed a few things in admitting us, because I even heard one of the nurses say, "It seems like I'm doing the secretarial work, tonight, too."
They stressed early on that security was very important to them - when Sweetie and Mom came in, they had to get buzzed in, and they mustn't let anyone else through the door. We should not see anyone in street clothes. Everyone who came in would introduce themselves and tell us what they were there for, and we should be able to see their name tag. No one would take the baby away from me without Sweetie going with him. There was a long lecture. So the next day, when a nurse came to take him for his circumcision, she was pleasant, introduced herself, told me what was happening, and then put her hands on his bassinet thing to roll him away, and I was like... Can I see your ID tag first? She was the only one who had the thing tucked into her pocket, and also the only one who was set to take my kid out of my sight!
Lastly, one of the big issues we had with Z's birth was that the first midwife we saw did not do a fairly simple test, and turned us away instead. That sort of started the whole shitball rolling. I don't know that she did anything (or failed to do anything) that unusual, but naturally she stuck in my mind. So when she returned late Friday afternoon to discharge me and the baby, it seemed in some ways to bookend a 6 1/2 year story. Zadie's birth was so traumatic, and Lochlan's was so relatively easy, and it felt like a circle was complete. With a happy ending.
Sunday, September 07, 2014
Let's hear it for the boy!
So the birth story was largely about me and our experience. Let's talk about Lochlan and who he is so far.
He is pretty easy to calm down. He cries, but it doesn't take much at all to soothe him, and he is extremely content to be held on my or Sweetie's chest. He likes to be patted on the back and butt, and he responds calmly to music, either played or sung. So far so good on the car (fingers crossed!): he gets cranky when we buckle him in, but then settles down for the ride.
Physically, he runs a little warm. Today was the first day I actually bothered to put clothes on him, because we seem to wrap and unwrap him a lot to help him not overheat. When he does get hot, he turns beet red!
He was circumcised, and he's healing nicely from that. In fact when we left the hospital, they said we'd have to put Vaseline on it for about a week to keep it from sticking to his diaper, but this morning the doctor said we didn't need to anymore. It does appear to bother him when he urinates. He screams bloody murder as soon as he wets a diaper!
(I know circumcision is a hot-button issue, and I weighed the pros and cons really carefully, aesthetics and tradition being pretty low on the priority list, and ultimately the pros came out about an eyelash ahead. I promise not to judge your choice if you don't judge mine.)
Anyway, back to him! He has a very strong cry, but otherwise doesn't say much. He squeaks a little when he's dreaming. He has very long toes and fingers, and I can tell right away his fingernails are like mine, with long nail beds.
He has the wispiest little eyelashes, and very fine blond eyebrows (so different from his sister!). He has a medium amount of hair that will probably fall out, but at this moment it's sort of a strawberry blond, much to our surprise! Zadie's was dark. Also, that coppery color is a genetic possibility, though a slim one: his paternal grandmother had red hair in her youth.
He sleeps a lot during the day, and we've only had two nights at home to determine this next bit, but he does seem to have a pretty active period from 10-1. He fusses, nurses, dozes, cries, nurses, dozes, fusses... The first night the cries were louder and longer and more disruptive. Last night, we tried to keep him awake a little more in the evening, and then we fed him a little more at the beginning of that period, and it was quite a bit easier. Plus, he slept until 7:40 this morning! I mean, we woke to nurse a couple times, but still, we weren't up for the day until then.
He does have one tiny area of concern -- he laid on his right side for, like, the last two months of my pregnancy, so the neck muscles on his left side are a little less developed. That can turn into something called torticollis, which requires physical therapy, or it can resolve itself on its own.
Anyway, it's been lovely to have him home so far, and he's really a blessedly mellow kid for the most part. Keep your fingers crossed that this continues to be the case!
He is pretty easy to calm down. He cries, but it doesn't take much at all to soothe him, and he is extremely content to be held on my or Sweetie's chest. He likes to be patted on the back and butt, and he responds calmly to music, either played or sung. So far so good on the car (fingers crossed!): he gets cranky when we buckle him in, but then settles down for the ride.
Physically, he runs a little warm. Today was the first day I actually bothered to put clothes on him, because we seem to wrap and unwrap him a lot to help him not overheat. When he does get hot, he turns beet red!
He was circumcised, and he's healing nicely from that. In fact when we left the hospital, they said we'd have to put Vaseline on it for about a week to keep it from sticking to his diaper, but this morning the doctor said we didn't need to anymore. It does appear to bother him when he urinates. He screams bloody murder as soon as he wets a diaper!
(I know circumcision is a hot-button issue, and I weighed the pros and cons really carefully, aesthetics and tradition being pretty low on the priority list, and ultimately the pros came out about an eyelash ahead. I promise not to judge your choice if you don't judge mine.)
Anyway, back to him! He has a very strong cry, but otherwise doesn't say much. He squeaks a little when he's dreaming. He has very long toes and fingers, and I can tell right away his fingernails are like mine, with long nail beds.
He has the wispiest little eyelashes, and very fine blond eyebrows (so different from his sister!). He has a medium amount of hair that will probably fall out, but at this moment it's sort of a strawberry blond, much to our surprise! Zadie's was dark. Also, that coppery color is a genetic possibility, though a slim one: his paternal grandmother had red hair in her youth.
He sleeps a lot during the day, and we've only had two nights at home to determine this next bit, but he does seem to have a pretty active period from 10-1. He fusses, nurses, dozes, cries, nurses, dozes, fusses... The first night the cries were louder and longer and more disruptive. Last night, we tried to keep him awake a little more in the evening, and then we fed him a little more at the beginning of that period, and it was quite a bit easier. Plus, he slept until 7:40 this morning! I mean, we woke to nurse a couple times, but still, we weren't up for the day until then.
He does have one tiny area of concern -- he laid on his right side for, like, the last two months of my pregnancy, so the neck muscles on his left side are a little less developed. That can turn into something called torticollis, which requires physical therapy, or it can resolve itself on its own.
Anyway, it's been lovely to have him home so far, and he's really a blessedly mellow kid for the most part. Keep your fingers crossed that this continues to be the case!
Saturday, September 06, 2014
Lochlan is born!
Birth story
On Thursday morning, I woke up prepared to meet my third day on maternity leave with no baby! I did a few tasks around the house, including getting Z ready for school (Mom took her), and then settled in to boredom. I was just about to take a long walk, probably to Tupelo, and I had gathered my thank you notes for the baby shower gifts when my dad called.
He had offered to pressure wash my hardscaping in the back before the garden tour that week, and was prepared to come over. He suggested jokingly that maybe the sound of water would bring on labor. "It couldn't hurt!" I answered.
He came over, and we passed the morning with him mostly working and me mostly reading my book, with occasional stops to gab passionately about politics. As we do. When he finished, he said he was going to load his stuff into the truck, and I, feeling something unusual, said, "I'm just going to check something and I'll meet you out front."
Well, unlike with Zadie, this time it was abundantly clear; my water had broken. I shuffled to the front door and blew Dad a kiss, letting him know what was up, and then I called Sweetie, Kaiser, and Mom. Sweetie didn't have his phone on him, and I told Mom we weren't in a terrible hurry, so I took a shower and packed a few things (I remembered my phone charger but forgot my toothbrush-- messed up priorities, man!), and I tried to reach Sweetie a few more times. Mom got there, fed the cats, and loaded my bag into the car, and then we headed to Sweetie's work in the hopes that he'd get the message on our way there. He did, and met us at the car pretty quickly.
In hindsight, we probably could have waited to hear from him and then taken him home to get his bag, because he was cold all night. Such is life.
Anyway, my biggest fear was that, like last time, my water would break without labor starting and I'd have to be induced. And it sort of seemed like that was happening. We got to the hospital and got checked in without me having any contractions of note. The triage nurse did check to see if it was a leak or a "gross rupture," and was rewarded for pulling back my pantaloons with a clear confirmation of the latter. Bloosh!
So they got me into a room, and the first nurse was kindly, but honestly seemed a little confused and hard of hearing. She kept mistaking me for the woman going into the next-door room, who was being induced, so I kept having to interject, "that's not me, right? Not pitocin for me? No induction for me at this point!" The funny thing is, though, when she was doing her job communicating something to the other nurse at the shift change, she repeated a story I'd told her practically verbatim. So she was sharp, it just didn't seem so at first.
Anyway, they had to monitor his heartbeat for 20 minutes straight before they could allow me to get up and walk around, and between all the intake paperwork and the fact that he kept going off the monitor, that all took until about 5. (We had gotten there at 2.) So then we walked around for a while, and my contractions were becoming more regular and more intense (I think at that point I called them a 3/4 on the pain scale), and after a while I was kind of bored and tired of walking, and I asked if I could have something to eat. They brought a roll, a salad, tomato soup, juice, and grapes and a plum. For some reason, as I sat and ate, my contractions got a lot stronger. Which was good! Labor was progressing, which meant I wouldn't have to be induced. Furthermore, when I was at 6cm, I could use the labor tub, which in my head, was going to make the whole thing a great deal more bearable (no pun intended).
At that point, my pain was increased significantly, and as we waited for the tub room to be ready, I was in full-on moaning/leaning/swaying/getting-my-hips-pushed-on mode. And they were coming a lot faster. We waddled me over to the tub room, got me undressed and unhooked from various things, (whilst I had several painful contractions), and got me in the tub.
So, here's an interlude. I haven't watched the TLC channel in a long time, but I remember watching A Baby Story. And in the intervening years, I've seen several short YouTube videos of water births or women using laboring tubs. And they kind of universally show the woman going from massive pain to relaxation and near-bliss. So I was sure that if I was going to have a natural birth, it was going to be with the help of the labor tub.
Yeah, I think that might be more useful *before* you go into hard labor. By the time I actually hit the water, I was having minute-long contractions that started every two minutes. I just didn't have enough downtime to really relax, and although I was trying to use my low vocalizations to relieve the pain, I think it ended up sounding more like this:
OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHOLYSHITTHISREALLYHURTSOOOOHHUUUGGGHGHHHHH
OOOOOOOOOOOOOMOTHEROFGODWHYDIDN'TWEJUSTADOPTOOOOHHHHHHUGGHHHHHHH
OOOOHHHHHHNOSERIOUSLUGUYSTHISWASTHESTUPIDESTIDEAEVERANDI'MGOINGTONEEDANEPIDURALIAMNOTFUCKINGAROUNDUUUGGHHHHH
TUVAN THROAT SINGING INTERLUDE
OOHHHHHHMOTHERFUCKINGCHRISTONACRACKERWATERSKIINGBABYJESUSHELPMEUUUGHHHHH
So then I did say I was sorry, but I needed the epidural. The nurse told me not to say sorry -- I had tried, and I knew my limits. Which is, basically, true. I really wanted to try a natural birth, but I'm telling you what: it hurts like a motherfucker.
Anyway, I went through several (like, SEVERAL) more unmedicated contractions while I got out of the tub, got dried off, put a robe on, went back to my room, got monitored, and Jojo the anaesthesiologst got set up. I was supposed to lean way over and stick my rounded back out for her, but I was having a really hard time doing anything, so it took a little time. But Jojo, Blessed Jojo, started me off with a dose of painkiller turned up to eleven, so very shortly I was feeling a lot better. In fact, my last epidural was either turned down or wearing off when I had Z, so I felt a lot. This time? Oh hell no. It reminded me of the scene in the old Roseanne TV show when her sister Jackie has the epidural and then gleefully stabs herself in the thigh with a fork. At some point I mumbled, "Tell Jenny I have a new best friend -- Jojo."
They were having a hard time finding his heartbeat again, so they needed me to roll to my side, then to my other side, and I was like... how? I could not even move my hips, let alone my legs. I ended up having to pull myself by my arms using the handles of the bed while a team of people dragged my sheets underneath me to roll me! I think we have a picture:
Anyway, there was a mostly blissful, if short, interlude where nothing hurt and everything was kind of calm.
Then the midwife announced that it was about time to push. I was a little surprised, because I think I thought I was only around 6 cm when I went into the tub, and I hadn't been in there long, then I thought epidurals sometimes slowed the process. From the time I got the epidural with Z to the time we pushed, there were hours. This had been... well, I lost track of time, but less than an hour for sure. (My only real timeline is that I ate dinner in the 6 o'clock hour, and I started pushing at 9.)
Anyway, they said he was face up, which can make delivery more difficult, so the midwife (Anna), said she would see if she could coax him to turn around. And she did. Or he did! Whatever, it worked. So I started to push at 9pm. The epidural was so serious Anna had to tell me when I was having a contraction, so I pushed on her cue.
Very quickly (after the third or so set of pushes?), Mom and Sweetie both said they could see him, and then Anna invited me to feel his head. For the record, it felt gooshy. But it was also OUT. I thought she meant he was crowning. No, his whole freaking head had exited the building, as it were.
And then I felt something weird -- him squiggling out without any assistance from me or anyone else. He was just like, "I got this."
So Anna guided my hands under his armpits, and I helped pull him to my chest. It was 9:13 p.m. He was 8 lbs, 2.4 oz (although they didn't actually take him away from me for over an hour to do the weights and measures bit), and 20 1/2 inches long. Roughly the same size as his sister, but such an easy delivery in comparison. He then proceeded to scream at the top of his lungs for a little over an hour. Then we nursed for the first time, and he was scored a "ten" for his awesome latch.
I had just a couple stitches (in fact, Anna debated whether she would even do them, but chose to because of the location). There was kind of a lot to do after that -- getting all his stats (Apgar of 9, baby!), getting me ready to move to the mother and baby unit, Mom and Sweetie making calls and texts, and who knows what all else (to be fair, I was just staring at him and my thoughts weren't on the kerfuffle).
And the overnight was kind of like hospitals are overnight. Loud and interrupty. He was supposed to try to nurse every two hours, but he was not into it -- he was really sleepy. So we didn't worry about it until the morning at around 7, when he nursed voraciously. I got a shower, and Mom brought coffee for us and a breakfast sandwich for Sweetie.
Zadie had stayed the night at Mom's -- Boompah fed her dinner and got her to bed -- and Mom got her ready for school in the morning and dropped her off. Then all day had stuff happening at intervals: nurses checking the baby and me, a lab assistant taking his blood (which made him so upset he puked), a photographer taking pictures, the nurse coming to take him for his circumcision, people coming to collect consent forms and birth certificate forms, etc. Mom and Sweetie took off for a while to do a few things at their respective homes. We weren't 100% sure we were going to get to go home that night, although all the staff understood that it was our preference to, because he had to have at least one wet diaper first. So Sweetie packed me another change of clothes and my toothpaste and a book, just in case. But by the time they came back, he had peed and we were looking good for getting sprung!
We left the hospital at about 6:40 in the evening, and I called my dad, who had taken Zadie to her karate black belt ceremony (I was SO sad to have missed it, but sometimes life has its own plan for you), and he offered to come by with frozen yogurt. It was a lovely cycle -- having said goodbye to Dad at the start of it, and Lochlan saying hello to Dad at the end of it all!
Special thanks to Dad, while we're speaking of him, for doing the pressure washing, taking Z to karate, getting us froyo, and another favor today.
Special thanks to Mom for taking us to the hospital, making us minestrone soup, going back home to take care of Z (who decided to wake up at 3 and read books) and take her to school, for bringing coffee and breakfast, for taking Reza home, getting Z's karate things, picking Z up from school and taking her and her booster seat to Dad's, then coming back yet again with Reza to be our designated car-seat-owning baby transporter.
Special thanks to Boompah for picking Z up from school, making her dinner, entertaining her, and tucking her in. The two of them are thick as theives, but he's not usually solely in charge, so this was a little out of his wheelhouse. But he rocked it!
Special thanks to Sweetie, who rubbed my back, reminded me to breathe, pushed my hips (it's a thing), told me "you're doing great" about a hundred times (even when I wasn't doing great), made low moaning noises along with me for encouragement (and stopped when I told him, "Okay, that is going to annoy me"), and probably had to watch some stuff he really didn't want to watch (a nurse whisked away a chux pad really quickly, so I think I know what happened -- and poor Sweetie is pretty coprophobic).
Special thanks to the nurses, midwives, doctors, and everyone else, who helped make this a much easier experience than last time.
And finally, I am lucky beyond measure to have the family and friends we have, who have sent an outpouring of love and support and enthusiasm, and not a few gifts and messages for the new big sister. We talked about community this morning, and we expressed that we are very lucky to have all these wonderful people in our lives. Zadie said she didn't expect to be the recipient of so many big sister gifts, thinking that all the attention would be on the baby. And I'm sure sometimes it is (and will be). But the thoughtful people in our lives have bent over backward to make sure she feels included and loved and appreciated, too, and that speaks volumes about them, I think.
Okay, I think there are things I need to add, but another time. Right now, rest and some tidying are vying for my attention, and Lochlan, beautiful boy, is sleeping on my chest.
On Thursday morning, I woke up prepared to meet my third day on maternity leave with no baby! I did a few tasks around the house, including getting Z ready for school (Mom took her), and then settled in to boredom. I was just about to take a long walk, probably to Tupelo, and I had gathered my thank you notes for the baby shower gifts when my dad called.
He had offered to pressure wash my hardscaping in the back before the garden tour that week, and was prepared to come over. He suggested jokingly that maybe the sound of water would bring on labor. "It couldn't hurt!" I answered.
He came over, and we passed the morning with him mostly working and me mostly reading my book, with occasional stops to gab passionately about politics. As we do. When he finished, he said he was going to load his stuff into the truck, and I, feeling something unusual, said, "I'm just going to check something and I'll meet you out front."
Well, unlike with Zadie, this time it was abundantly clear; my water had broken. I shuffled to the front door and blew Dad a kiss, letting him know what was up, and then I called Sweetie, Kaiser, and Mom. Sweetie didn't have his phone on him, and I told Mom we weren't in a terrible hurry, so I took a shower and packed a few things (I remembered my phone charger but forgot my toothbrush-- messed up priorities, man!), and I tried to reach Sweetie a few more times. Mom got there, fed the cats, and loaded my bag into the car, and then we headed to Sweetie's work in the hopes that he'd get the message on our way there. He did, and met us at the car pretty quickly.
In hindsight, we probably could have waited to hear from him and then taken him home to get his bag, because he was cold all night. Such is life.
Anyway, my biggest fear was that, like last time, my water would break without labor starting and I'd have to be induced. And it sort of seemed like that was happening. We got to the hospital and got checked in without me having any contractions of note. The triage nurse did check to see if it was a leak or a "gross rupture," and was rewarded for pulling back my pantaloons with a clear confirmation of the latter. Bloosh!
So they got me into a room, and the first nurse was kindly, but honestly seemed a little confused and hard of hearing. She kept mistaking me for the woman going into the next-door room, who was being induced, so I kept having to interject, "that's not me, right? Not pitocin for me? No induction for me at this point!" The funny thing is, though, when she was doing her job communicating something to the other nurse at the shift change, she repeated a story I'd told her practically verbatim. So she was sharp, it just didn't seem so at first.
Anyway, they had to monitor his heartbeat for 20 minutes straight before they could allow me to get up and walk around, and between all the intake paperwork and the fact that he kept going off the monitor, that all took until about 5. (We had gotten there at 2.) So then we walked around for a while, and my contractions were becoming more regular and more intense (I think at that point I called them a 3/4 on the pain scale), and after a while I was kind of bored and tired of walking, and I asked if I could have something to eat. They brought a roll, a salad, tomato soup, juice, and grapes and a plum. For some reason, as I sat and ate, my contractions got a lot stronger. Which was good! Labor was progressing, which meant I wouldn't have to be induced. Furthermore, when I was at 6cm, I could use the labor tub, which in my head, was going to make the whole thing a great deal more bearable (no pun intended).
At that point, my pain was increased significantly, and as we waited for the tub room to be ready, I was in full-on moaning/leaning/swaying/getting-my-hips-pushed-on mode. And they were coming a lot faster. We waddled me over to the tub room, got me undressed and unhooked from various things, (whilst I had several painful contractions), and got me in the tub.
So, here's an interlude. I haven't watched the TLC channel in a long time, but I remember watching A Baby Story. And in the intervening years, I've seen several short YouTube videos of water births or women using laboring tubs. And they kind of universally show the woman going from massive pain to relaxation and near-bliss. So I was sure that if I was going to have a natural birth, it was going to be with the help of the labor tub.
Yeah, I think that might be more useful *before* you go into hard labor. By the time I actually hit the water, I was having minute-long contractions that started every two minutes. I just didn't have enough downtime to really relax, and although I was trying to use my low vocalizations to relieve the pain, I think it ended up sounding more like this:
OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHOLYSHITTHISREALLYHURTSOOOOHHUUUGGGHGHHHHH
OOOOOOOOOOOOOMOTHEROFGODWHYDIDN'TWEJUSTADOPTOOOOHHHHHHUGGHHHHHHH
OOOOHHHHHHNOSERIOUSLUGUYSTHISWASTHESTUPIDESTIDEAEVERANDI'MGOINGTONEEDANEPIDURALIAMNOTFUCKINGAROUNDUUUGGHHHHH
TUVAN THROAT SINGING INTERLUDE
OOHHHHHHMOTHERFUCKINGCHRISTONACRACKERWATERSKIINGBABYJESUSHELPMEUUUGHHHHH
So then I did say I was sorry, but I needed the epidural. The nurse told me not to say sorry -- I had tried, and I knew my limits. Which is, basically, true. I really wanted to try a natural birth, but I'm telling you what: it hurts like a motherfucker.
Anyway, I went through several (like, SEVERAL) more unmedicated contractions while I got out of the tub, got dried off, put a robe on, went back to my room, got monitored, and Jojo the anaesthesiologst got set up. I was supposed to lean way over and stick my rounded back out for her, but I was having a really hard time doing anything, so it took a little time. But Jojo, Blessed Jojo, started me off with a dose of painkiller turned up to eleven, so very shortly I was feeling a lot better. In fact, my last epidural was either turned down or wearing off when I had Z, so I felt a lot. This time? Oh hell no. It reminded me of the scene in the old Roseanne TV show when her sister Jackie has the epidural and then gleefully stabs herself in the thigh with a fork. At some point I mumbled, "Tell Jenny I have a new best friend -- Jojo."
They were having a hard time finding his heartbeat again, so they needed me to roll to my side, then to my other side, and I was like... how? I could not even move my hips, let alone my legs. I ended up having to pull myself by my arms using the handles of the bed while a team of people dragged my sheets underneath me to roll me! I think we have a picture:
Anyway, there was a mostly blissful, if short, interlude where nothing hurt and everything was kind of calm.
Then the midwife announced that it was about time to push. I was a little surprised, because I think I thought I was only around 6 cm when I went into the tub, and I hadn't been in there long, then I thought epidurals sometimes slowed the process. From the time I got the epidural with Z to the time we pushed, there were hours. This had been... well, I lost track of time, but less than an hour for sure. (My only real timeline is that I ate dinner in the 6 o'clock hour, and I started pushing at 9.)
Anyway, they said he was face up, which can make delivery more difficult, so the midwife (Anna), said she would see if she could coax him to turn around. And she did. Or he did! Whatever, it worked. So I started to push at 9pm. The epidural was so serious Anna had to tell me when I was having a contraction, so I pushed on her cue.
Very quickly (after the third or so set of pushes?), Mom and Sweetie both said they could see him, and then Anna invited me to feel his head. For the record, it felt gooshy. But it was also OUT. I thought she meant he was crowning. No, his whole freaking head had exited the building, as it were.
And then I felt something weird -- him squiggling out without any assistance from me or anyone else. He was just like, "I got this."
So Anna guided my hands under his armpits, and I helped pull him to my chest. It was 9:13 p.m. He was 8 lbs, 2.4 oz (although they didn't actually take him away from me for over an hour to do the weights and measures bit), and 20 1/2 inches long. Roughly the same size as his sister, but such an easy delivery in comparison. He then proceeded to scream at the top of his lungs for a little over an hour. Then we nursed for the first time, and he was scored a "ten" for his awesome latch.
I had just a couple stitches (in fact, Anna debated whether she would even do them, but chose to because of the location). There was kind of a lot to do after that -- getting all his stats (Apgar of 9, baby!), getting me ready to move to the mother and baby unit, Mom and Sweetie making calls and texts, and who knows what all else (to be fair, I was just staring at him and my thoughts weren't on the kerfuffle).
And the overnight was kind of like hospitals are overnight. Loud and interrupty. He was supposed to try to nurse every two hours, but he was not into it -- he was really sleepy. So we didn't worry about it until the morning at around 7, when he nursed voraciously. I got a shower, and Mom brought coffee for us and a breakfast sandwich for Sweetie.
Zadie had stayed the night at Mom's -- Boompah fed her dinner and got her to bed -- and Mom got her ready for school in the morning and dropped her off. Then all day had stuff happening at intervals: nurses checking the baby and me, a lab assistant taking his blood (which made him so upset he puked), a photographer taking pictures, the nurse coming to take him for his circumcision, people coming to collect consent forms and birth certificate forms, etc. Mom and Sweetie took off for a while to do a few things at their respective homes. We weren't 100% sure we were going to get to go home that night, although all the staff understood that it was our preference to, because he had to have at least one wet diaper first. So Sweetie packed me another change of clothes and my toothpaste and a book, just in case. But by the time they came back, he had peed and we were looking good for getting sprung!
We left the hospital at about 6:40 in the evening, and I called my dad, who had taken Zadie to her karate black belt ceremony (I was SO sad to have missed it, but sometimes life has its own plan for you), and he offered to come by with frozen yogurt. It was a lovely cycle -- having said goodbye to Dad at the start of it, and Lochlan saying hello to Dad at the end of it all!
Special thanks to Dad, while we're speaking of him, for doing the pressure washing, taking Z to karate, getting us froyo, and another favor today.
Special thanks to Mom for taking us to the hospital, making us minestrone soup, going back home to take care of Z (who decided to wake up at 3 and read books) and take her to school, for bringing coffee and breakfast, for taking Reza home, getting Z's karate things, picking Z up from school and taking her and her booster seat to Dad's, then coming back yet again with Reza to be our designated car-seat-owning baby transporter.
Special thanks to Boompah for picking Z up from school, making her dinner, entertaining her, and tucking her in. The two of them are thick as theives, but he's not usually solely in charge, so this was a little out of his wheelhouse. But he rocked it!
Special thanks to Sweetie, who rubbed my back, reminded me to breathe, pushed my hips (it's a thing), told me "you're doing great" about a hundred times (even when I wasn't doing great), made low moaning noises along with me for encouragement (and stopped when I told him, "Okay, that is going to annoy me"), and probably had to watch some stuff he really didn't want to watch (a nurse whisked away a chux pad really quickly, so I think I know what happened -- and poor Sweetie is pretty coprophobic).
Special thanks to the nurses, midwives, doctors, and everyone else, who helped make this a much easier experience than last time.
And finally, I am lucky beyond measure to have the family and friends we have, who have sent an outpouring of love and support and enthusiasm, and not a few gifts and messages for the new big sister. We talked about community this morning, and we expressed that we are very lucky to have all these wonderful people in our lives. Zadie said she didn't expect to be the recipient of so many big sister gifts, thinking that all the attention would be on the baby. And I'm sure sometimes it is (and will be). But the thoughtful people in our lives have bent over backward to make sure she feels included and loved and appreciated, too, and that speaks volumes about them, I think.
Okay, I think there are things I need to add, but another time. Right now, rest and some tidying are vying for my attention, and Lochlan, beautiful boy, is sleeping on my chest.
Weights and measures time.
Skin time with Dad
Listening to dub step (No, just kidding. This is the hearing check.)
Grandma
Grandpa and Zadie
Dad, Lochlan and Zadie
Another post will follow with more about the little man himself and what it's like at home so far. I think it probably goes without saying that I am crazy in love with him. But still... I am crazy in love with him.
Friday, August 29, 2014
I'm so predictable
Earlier today, I texted Sweetie that there was "no gnus." I was just now looking through March 2008 posts on here to see what I was thinking and feeling before Z was born, and I found a post called "No gnus is good gnus."
Here is what I found.
Last time, I was sure she was going to come early. She didn't.
This time, I've been sure he is going to come early. We're at 39 weeks and 2 days. It's not looking good.
Last time, I was having lots of contractions, but I didn't know what they were.
This time, I'm having lots of contractions. This time, I know what they are.
Last time, I stopped working a week before she was due.
This time, I stopped working 6 days before he is due (although I had a long vacation first).
Last time, I was killing time watching Deadwood, starring Timothy Oliphant.
This time, I am killing time watching Justified, starring Timothy Oliphant.
Anyway, there is not much going on, although I keep psyching myself out to think there is. I'll let you know if that changes!
Here is what I found.
Last time, I was sure she was going to come early. She didn't.
This time, I've been sure he is going to come early. We're at 39 weeks and 2 days. It's not looking good.
Last time, I was having lots of contractions, but I didn't know what they were.
This time, I'm having lots of contractions. This time, I know what they are.
Last time, I stopped working a week before she was due.
This time, I stopped working 6 days before he is due (although I had a long vacation first).
Last time, I was killing time watching Deadwood, starring Timothy Oliphant.
This time, I am killing time watching Justified, starring Timothy Oliphant.
Anyway, there is not much going on, although I keep psyching myself out to think there is. I'll let you know if that changes!
Monday, August 18, 2014
Why are they like that? Some theories...
So, like, I don't want to go revisit all that writing I did on Trayvon Martin, but with the latest murder (this time by the police) of an unarmed black teenager and the subsequent smearing of his character, I have some thoughts.
First of all, it doesn't surprise me at all that the police are attempting to smear the character of Mike Brown. It's... inevitable. And so ugly -- after days of protest, they finally released the name of the officer who shot Brown, but prefaced it by saying that Brown was the primary suspect in a "strong-arm robbery" that had occurred a few minutes prior to the officer pulling him over.
Yeah, so since then, they've had to admit that the officer knew nothing about that and his stopping the kid was unrelated. (It may also be of note that the "strong-arm robbery" was basically shoplifting a pack of Swisher Sweets cigarillos.)
Three eye-witnesses have all told the same story, that after stopping Brown for walking in the street, the officer pulled Brown to the window of the car, there was some kind of tussle, a shot was fired, and then Brown ran away. The officer shot at him from some distance, and Brown turned around with his hands up, at which point he was shot several more times.
Perhaps you know enough about police procedures to know that one generally doesn't shoot someone who is running away or who has his hands in the air.
The autopsy report came out today, and showed that he was shot in the front of the arms and the top of the head. It certainly seems consistent with shooting someone who is facing you with his arms held in the air, then someone falling forward and a bullet entering the top of his head.
That's wrong. And the police response has been all wrong (they're tear-gassing 8-year-olds during largely peaceful protests, and intimidating and arresting journalists). But what perhaps disgusts me the most is that EVERY article I read on the subject is followed by people justifying the killing.
Well, he was just involved in a robbery! If you don't want to get shot, don't commit crimes.
The officer had NO IDEA Brown might have committed a crime.
Brown was posing an active threat. He reached for the officer's gun.
You are pulling that out of thin air. Plus, he certainly wasn't reaching for that gun anymore as he ran away.
He was a felon!
Nope. You have to get convicted of a felony to be a felon. And even if you stretch the circumstances of the robbery to be violent or whatever, the punishment for robbery isn't instant execution with no trial.
The bullet in the top of his head shows he was charging the officer like a bull.
Okay, really? He ran away, then a shot was fired, so he turned around and ran into the gunfire, head down? Yeeeeeeaaahhh.
I read so many justifications for Brown's murder that I started thinking to myself, why is it so important for these people to believe it wasn't another example of a young man's race working against him?
I have some ideas.
First, there's the white-privilege-never-did-nothing-for-me theory. It goes like this: My life isn't awesome, so there can't be white privilege, which means there also can't be racism. It's not great thinking, but it does make some sense. The people who feel this way are so caught up in their own struggles (economic or otherwise) that it doesn't seem real to them that there are people who have other forces actively working against them.
Similar to this is the center-of-the-universe theory. This one is that you are the star of your own story, and you have not witnessed racism, so how could it be real? It's particularly narcissistic, but lord knows we don't have to look far to find some narcissistic folks.
Next up is trickier, and perhaps too generous (I know my husband will think so): the cognitive dissonance theory. Cognitive dissonance is when your actions don't match your view of yourself. So if there IS racism, and YOU are a good and just person, and you are doing nothing to fix the inequality, then there is dissonance. So you have to do something to resolve this. Either you start working for change, or you decide there must not really be inequality (because if there was, you would be doing something about it).
Finally, there is the I-am-awesome theory. In this theory, the person believes they have never been harassed by the police because they are a good person, therefore if someone does get harassed by the police, it is because they are a bad person. It inflates their ego and erases tricky evidence of racism all at the same time.
I mean, this obviously doesn't cover I'm-a-douchey-racist-cracker, which is probably self-explanatory, and may cover 75% of these actual commenters. But I can't otherwise explain how so many people find it so important to label these murdered black kids thugs, gangsters, trouble, asking-for-it, deserving-of-it... instead of college and high school kids. Sons, brothers, boyfriends. Why take a victim and make him responsible for his own death? As with the similar attitude towards rape victims, sometimes it feels like it's a hex against something like it happening to you.
First of all, it doesn't surprise me at all that the police are attempting to smear the character of Mike Brown. It's... inevitable. And so ugly -- after days of protest, they finally released the name of the officer who shot Brown, but prefaced it by saying that Brown was the primary suspect in a "strong-arm robbery" that had occurred a few minutes prior to the officer pulling him over.
Yeah, so since then, they've had to admit that the officer knew nothing about that and his stopping the kid was unrelated. (It may also be of note that the "strong-arm robbery" was basically shoplifting a pack of Swisher Sweets cigarillos.)
Three eye-witnesses have all told the same story, that after stopping Brown for walking in the street, the officer pulled Brown to the window of the car, there was some kind of tussle, a shot was fired, and then Brown ran away. The officer shot at him from some distance, and Brown turned around with his hands up, at which point he was shot several more times.
Perhaps you know enough about police procedures to know that one generally doesn't shoot someone who is running away or who has his hands in the air.
The autopsy report came out today, and showed that he was shot in the front of the arms and the top of the head. It certainly seems consistent with shooting someone who is facing you with his arms held in the air, then someone falling forward and a bullet entering the top of his head.
That's wrong. And the police response has been all wrong (they're tear-gassing 8-year-olds during largely peaceful protests, and intimidating and arresting journalists). But what perhaps disgusts me the most is that EVERY article I read on the subject is followed by people justifying the killing.
Well, he was just involved in a robbery! If you don't want to get shot, don't commit crimes.
The officer had NO IDEA Brown might have committed a crime.
Brown was posing an active threat. He reached for the officer's gun.
You are pulling that out of thin air. Plus, he certainly wasn't reaching for that gun anymore as he ran away.
He was a felon!
Nope. You have to get convicted of a felony to be a felon. And even if you stretch the circumstances of the robbery to be violent or whatever, the punishment for robbery isn't instant execution with no trial.
The bullet in the top of his head shows he was charging the officer like a bull.
Okay, really? He ran away, then a shot was fired, so he turned around and ran into the gunfire, head down? Yeeeeeeaaahhh.
I read so many justifications for Brown's murder that I started thinking to myself, why is it so important for these people to believe it wasn't another example of a young man's race working against him?
I have some ideas.
First, there's the white-privilege-never-did-nothing-for-me theory. It goes like this: My life isn't awesome, so there can't be white privilege, which means there also can't be racism. It's not great thinking, but it does make some sense. The people who feel this way are so caught up in their own struggles (economic or otherwise) that it doesn't seem real to them that there are people who have other forces actively working against them.
Similar to this is the center-of-the-universe theory. This one is that you are the star of your own story, and you have not witnessed racism, so how could it be real? It's particularly narcissistic, but lord knows we don't have to look far to find some narcissistic folks.
Next up is trickier, and perhaps too generous (I know my husband will think so): the cognitive dissonance theory. Cognitive dissonance is when your actions don't match your view of yourself. So if there IS racism, and YOU are a good and just person, and you are doing nothing to fix the inequality, then there is dissonance. So you have to do something to resolve this. Either you start working for change, or you decide there must not really be inequality (because if there was, you would be doing something about it).
Finally, there is the I-am-awesome theory. In this theory, the person believes they have never been harassed by the police because they are a good person, therefore if someone does get harassed by the police, it is because they are a bad person. It inflates their ego and erases tricky evidence of racism all at the same time.
I mean, this obviously doesn't cover I'm-a-douchey-racist-cracker, which is probably self-explanatory, and may cover 75% of these actual commenters. But I can't otherwise explain how so many people find it so important to label these murdered black kids thugs, gangsters, trouble, asking-for-it, deserving-of-it... instead of college and high school kids. Sons, brothers, boyfriends. Why take a victim and make him responsible for his own death? As with the similar attitude towards rape victims, sometimes it feels like it's a hex against something like it happening to you.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Birthday approaches
So, we're down to 20 days until the baby's due date. I'm excited -- truly -- and looking forward to meeting him.
I'm also scared shitless in a way I wasn't before Z was born. Before she was born, labor and delivery was something that, although it looked painful, was normal and ended, generally, with perfectly healthy results. My mom's story of birthing me, which is the story I know better than any other, is a story of having me so fast the hospital wasn't really ready for me.
But as you may know, the story of birthing Zadie was somewhat different. It took several twists and turns, involved a pretty serious mistake, and although it ended up with a healthy girl, there were moments of a blue and non-breathing one. Which is the SCARIEST SHIT EVER. And because of the interventions we had, labor was much, much more painful than I expected.
And as I look forward to the birth, I'm also looking backward at what happened then. Because although when we tell the story, we tell it that a sleepy midwife's mistake caused the whole scary ball to get rolling, there were two other problems that contributed, and both were mine alone.
First, to recap what happened briefly, my water broke on a Saturday night. We went to the hospital early Sunday morning, where a midwife assured us that if my water had actually broken, it was fine, and there was still plenty of fluid. She sent us home. The implication was that I was mistaken, and that perhaps I had peed myself. She was wrong, and it did ultimately cause a lot of the problems we faced. But I was wrong, too -- I should have advocated more strongly for myself, perhaps asked for a second opinion. I knew for sure I hadn't peed myself, and I am still not certain why I allowed myself to be turned away. I am not a shrinking violet, but in the face of a medical professional, I just went "Oh, okay, I guess" and went home.
The good news is, I wouldn't repeat that mistake.
But the other mistake was my body's. See, usually when a woman's water breaks, she's in labor already, having contractions. Or if not, they follow pretty quickly. Mine didn't react that way. I had a backache, my water broke, and then I walked around for two days with no other symptoms of labor. Which meant that by the time I was told to go to the hospital by my doctor, I was about 42 hours past when I should have originally gone in, and at that point, it was an emergency. I needed Pitocin to start contractions, I needed extra fluids to replace what I'd lost, etc. I was IVed and cathetered and stuck to the bed. And a lot of that was sleepy CNM's fault -- but some of it was my body's.
Which is why, going into this next labor and delivery scenario, I'm a little nervous. I need to be able to rely on my body to do what it's supposed to, and it let me down last time.
Since I can't control that, I'm working hardest on controlling this fear, which I know can't be good for me and won't help anything. I'm listening to a hypnosis MP3, and I imagine that will help somewhat, although since I am the queen of half-assedness*, I've never actually sat in a quiet place and listened to the whole thing. I multi-task, listening to it while gardening or baking, and when the soft voice instructs, "close your eyes," I think, "yeah, yeah, I can do that," and then I deadhead a couple more roses.
Que sera, sera, I guess.
*I'd love to see the Mary Engelbreit illustration of that.
I'm also scared shitless in a way I wasn't before Z was born. Before she was born, labor and delivery was something that, although it looked painful, was normal and ended, generally, with perfectly healthy results. My mom's story of birthing me, which is the story I know better than any other, is a story of having me so fast the hospital wasn't really ready for me.
But as you may know, the story of birthing Zadie was somewhat different. It took several twists and turns, involved a pretty serious mistake, and although it ended up with a healthy girl, there were moments of a blue and non-breathing one. Which is the SCARIEST SHIT EVER. And because of the interventions we had, labor was much, much more painful than I expected.
And as I look forward to the birth, I'm also looking backward at what happened then. Because although when we tell the story, we tell it that a sleepy midwife's mistake caused the whole scary ball to get rolling, there were two other problems that contributed, and both were mine alone.
First, to recap what happened briefly, my water broke on a Saturday night. We went to the hospital early Sunday morning, where a midwife assured us that if my water had actually broken, it was fine, and there was still plenty of fluid. She sent us home. The implication was that I was mistaken, and that perhaps I had peed myself. She was wrong, and it did ultimately cause a lot of the problems we faced. But I was wrong, too -- I should have advocated more strongly for myself, perhaps asked for a second opinion. I knew for sure I hadn't peed myself, and I am still not certain why I allowed myself to be turned away. I am not a shrinking violet, but in the face of a medical professional, I just went "Oh, okay, I guess" and went home.
The good news is, I wouldn't repeat that mistake.
But the other mistake was my body's. See, usually when a woman's water breaks, she's in labor already, having contractions. Or if not, they follow pretty quickly. Mine didn't react that way. I had a backache, my water broke, and then I walked around for two days with no other symptoms of labor. Which meant that by the time I was told to go to the hospital by my doctor, I was about 42 hours past when I should have originally gone in, and at that point, it was an emergency. I needed Pitocin to start contractions, I needed extra fluids to replace what I'd lost, etc. I was IVed and cathetered and stuck to the bed. And a lot of that was sleepy CNM's fault -- but some of it was my body's.
Which is why, going into this next labor and delivery scenario, I'm a little nervous. I need to be able to rely on my body to do what it's supposed to, and it let me down last time.
Since I can't control that, I'm working hardest on controlling this fear, which I know can't be good for me and won't help anything. I'm listening to a hypnosis MP3, and I imagine that will help somewhat, although since I am the queen of half-assedness*, I've never actually sat in a quiet place and listened to the whole thing. I multi-task, listening to it while gardening or baking, and when the soft voice instructs, "close your eyes," I think, "yeah, yeah, I can do that," and then I deadhead a couple more roses.
Que sera, sera, I guess.
*I'd love to see the Mary Engelbreit illustration of that.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Santa Cruz, part two (delayed!)
On Wednesday morning, we went to Kelly's French Bakery for breakfast. Sweetie loves to get a seeded baguette and a latte, I had a fruit and yogurt dish (though I stole some of the bread), and Z had a pastry. In the same little complex is a grocery store, where we picked up a bag full of snacks, and then we went to Seymour Marine Center.
I've talked this place up before, so I'll spare you some of the details (Z still will not touch the shark), but it had been a while since we took the free tour, so I signed myself and Z up for it. They start you at the statues of the elephant seals and talk a bit about them, then you walk to a gray whale skeleton and talk about whales and baleen for a while (they pass around two kinds of baleen to touch). Then you go through a gate, where you have to be quiet and promise not to take pictures. It's a research facility, and we got to see two dolphins and a monk seal that they keep there. One thing I heard this time that I thought was funny (and didn't remember) is that both dolphins had been used by the Navy in training experiments (I knew that part), and that both would were very compliant, and would do literally anything they were asked to. Except that one of them would not leave the bay, and, as our docent explained, "you can't drag a dolphin," so he ended up not being particularly useful. The other one would also do anything... except come back home at night, and "you can't drag a dolphin..."
Anyway, we had a nice time, then we drove just down the road to Natural Bridges again. It was another lovely day, with the exception of a little wind that had kicked up so that sand blew in our faces. I went tide pooling with Z and saw (although I didn't know it until later) an egg ribbon from a Monterey sea lemon.
When we were done with the beach, we went back to the hotel to rest and clean up, and then we walked downtown for a final dinner. There's a sushi place that we've passed dozens of times in a kind of strip mall a block from the main drag. Given that we've tried a few sushi places in town and never been blown away, we really didn't give this place a second thought. But I had recently caught up with a friend I've known since fourth grade (!) who used to live in Santa Cruz, and he recommended it. Oh man! I think we finally have another dinner joint locked in. Not only did they have a ton of veggie rolls, they had two combination platters of veggie rolls so that you could sample three at a time, but only get half a roll of each. I had the #2 combo this time, but next time, I'll try the other. They had some odd things in them, like macadamia nuts, but they also had very traditional sushi, and my favorite was the shiso, ume, and yamaimo roll (shiso is an herb, ume is pickled plums, and yamaimo is like a yam). My esteemed dining companions' dinners looked good, too, especially the kid's plate, which was both generous and inexpensive.
We all saved a little room for ice cream, and we went to Mission Hill Creamery, whose list of flavors had caught our eye earlier. They had really interesting flavors, like plum-zinfandel sorbet. We all got something delicious.
In the morning, we headed once more to Cafe Brazil. Sweetie is developing a whole theorem on how to get the most out of multiple visits to that place. I need to find salsa Lizano around here somewhere, is what needs to happen. I could make scrambled eggs and tortillas and rice, and I could probably even fry up some plantains, but it's the sauce that makes it.
Then we hit the road! We drove to San Francisco to go to the Academy of Sciences. They have a new skulls exhibit, which we checked out first. Z was not as fascinated by it as we were (and in fact, she was a little grossed out that Sweetie touched a skull, and she wouldn't hold his hand all day).
We next went through the rainforest exhibit, an enclosed, humid, three-story structure that you walk up via a spiral ramp. At each level is something new to look at -- butterflies, birds, pitcher plants, snakes, poison dart frogs -- and finally you have to check yourself for butterfly hitchhikers before you leave. You exit through the aquarium, where we spent a great deal of time. Then we walked kind of willy-nilly through the other exhibits, Africa and earthquakes and hissing cockroaches, oh my! We had never done the planetarium show with Z -- probably, she was too little last time -- so we did it this time. It was cool! The effects were kind of amazing, to the point that once or twice I felt like I was moving. It was narrated by Neil Degrasse Tyson, who is one of Z's heroes, and it was all about dark matter and dark energy. It likely went over her head, but it actually explained it in a way that I could understand it (which I admit, I never really did before). I think the most interesting part was about two-thirds through, when they turned off the audio track and a live guy narrated for a while. Not because he was especially great, but because (as Sweetie and I agreed later) they were probably updating it to the most current information.
We stayed basically until it closed, then settled in for the LONG drive home. It's not that far from San Francisco to Sacramento, but leaving SF at 5pm on a weekday is... well, we could have planned that better.
Pictures follow!
When these two aren't getting on each other's last nerve, they are best friends. That's my favorite.
I've talked this place up before, so I'll spare you some of the details (Z still will not touch the shark), but it had been a while since we took the free tour, so I signed myself and Z up for it. They start you at the statues of the elephant seals and talk a bit about them, then you walk to a gray whale skeleton and talk about whales and baleen for a while (they pass around two kinds of baleen to touch). Then you go through a gate, where you have to be quiet and promise not to take pictures. It's a research facility, and we got to see two dolphins and a monk seal that they keep there. One thing I heard this time that I thought was funny (and didn't remember) is that both dolphins had been used by the Navy in training experiments (I knew that part), and that both would were very compliant, and would do literally anything they were asked to. Except that one of them would not leave the bay, and, as our docent explained, "you can't drag a dolphin," so he ended up not being particularly useful. The other one would also do anything... except come back home at night, and "you can't drag a dolphin..."
Anyway, we had a nice time, then we drove just down the road to Natural Bridges again. It was another lovely day, with the exception of a little wind that had kicked up so that sand blew in our faces. I went tide pooling with Z and saw (although I didn't know it until later) an egg ribbon from a Monterey sea lemon.
When we were done with the beach, we went back to the hotel to rest and clean up, and then we walked downtown for a final dinner. There's a sushi place that we've passed dozens of times in a kind of strip mall a block from the main drag. Given that we've tried a few sushi places in town and never been blown away, we really didn't give this place a second thought. But I had recently caught up with a friend I've known since fourth grade (!) who used to live in Santa Cruz, and he recommended it. Oh man! I think we finally have another dinner joint locked in. Not only did they have a ton of veggie rolls, they had two combination platters of veggie rolls so that you could sample three at a time, but only get half a roll of each. I had the #2 combo this time, but next time, I'll try the other. They had some odd things in them, like macadamia nuts, but they also had very traditional sushi, and my favorite was the shiso, ume, and yamaimo roll (shiso is an herb, ume is pickled plums, and yamaimo is like a yam). My esteemed dining companions' dinners looked good, too, especially the kid's plate, which was both generous and inexpensive.
We all saved a little room for ice cream, and we went to Mission Hill Creamery, whose list of flavors had caught our eye earlier. They had really interesting flavors, like plum-zinfandel sorbet. We all got something delicious.
In the morning, we headed once more to Cafe Brazil. Sweetie is developing a whole theorem on how to get the most out of multiple visits to that place. I need to find salsa Lizano around here somewhere, is what needs to happen. I could make scrambled eggs and tortillas and rice, and I could probably even fry up some plantains, but it's the sauce that makes it.
Then we hit the road! We drove to San Francisco to go to the Academy of Sciences. They have a new skulls exhibit, which we checked out first. Z was not as fascinated by it as we were (and in fact, she was a little grossed out that Sweetie touched a skull, and she wouldn't hold his hand all day).
We next went through the rainforest exhibit, an enclosed, humid, three-story structure that you walk up via a spiral ramp. At each level is something new to look at -- butterflies, birds, pitcher plants, snakes, poison dart frogs -- and finally you have to check yourself for butterfly hitchhikers before you leave. You exit through the aquarium, where we spent a great deal of time. Then we walked kind of willy-nilly through the other exhibits, Africa and earthquakes and hissing cockroaches, oh my! We had never done the planetarium show with Z -- probably, she was too little last time -- so we did it this time. It was cool! The effects were kind of amazing, to the point that once or twice I felt like I was moving. It was narrated by Neil Degrasse Tyson, who is one of Z's heroes, and it was all about dark matter and dark energy. It likely went over her head, but it actually explained it in a way that I could understand it (which I admit, I never really did before). I think the most interesting part was about two-thirds through, when they turned off the audio track and a live guy narrated for a while. Not because he was especially great, but because (as Sweetie and I agreed later) they were probably updating it to the most current information.
We stayed basically until it closed, then settled in for the LONG drive home. It's not that far from San Francisco to Sacramento, but leaving SF at 5pm on a weekday is... well, we could have planned that better.
Pictures follow!
This was the early rangers walk. Z is considering a career in rangering, so she had to ask how often he has run across bears.
After finishing a scavenger hunt, she got a pacific sand dab trading card and a hand stamp.
Beach beauty.
Tidepooling.
My egg ribbon. I had to ask my friends via Facebook what it was, and there were about 20 dick jokes before a marine biology guy jumped in. My people.
When these two aren't getting on each other's last nerve, they are best friends. That's my favorite.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Santa Cruz
I'd better start writing before I forget everything!
We skipped town on Sunday in the late morning and drove straight through to Santa Cruz, making good time until we hit traffic outside of San Jose. We stopped for gas (and a potty break), but still managed to make it in about 2 1/2 hours. The hotel wasn't quite ready for us to check in, so Sweetie waited on the hotel pool deck and Z and I went to a nearby playground. After settling in a bit, we walked downtown, then to Saturn Cafe for dinner. On the way back, we stopped at a candy shop called It'Sugar and Z spent a little of her pocket money on Everlasting Gobstoppers. We swam a bit before bed.
In the morning, we went to Cafe Brasil (one of the things we look forward to most), where Sweetie and I both had Gallo Pinto (a rice and bean dish served with eggs, tortillas, fried plantains, and a delicious vinegary sauce called Salsa Lizano. We came back to the hotel to grab sunscreen and beach toys, then went to Natural Bridges State Beach. At 10:30, there was an "Early Rangers" program on wetlands, frogs, and toads. It was mosty much younger kids, and Z was a little obnoxious about knowing all the answers. She even told us today that she showed the ranger the path to the pond, although she admitted he might have already known about it. Still, it was a nice little walk, and she was actually really good around the little guys -- one kept grabbing her binoculars and alternately trying to shove them into Z's eyes or rip them off Z's head. But she would say "No, thank you" and try to gently protect herself. I was proud.
After the walk, we went down to the beach and stayed for about three hours. It was really nice out. Z and Sweetie mostly hung out and let me lay on the beach and read. They explored, made sand castles, looked for shells, and dodged the waves (but not very well -- she got soaked!).
We then came home, showered and changed, and went down to Pacific Avenue. Z and I needed a snack, so Sweetie went to look at comics without us. We met him over there, then we did some book shopping. We looked around a touch more, then settled for dinner at Pono Hawaiian. It was pretty good! Sweetie had a spicy poke bowl and kahlua pork, and I had an edamame and mac nut hummus wrap. Z had a burger and fries -- not too exciting. After dinner, we grabbed a scoop of ice cream, then came back and swam for a while before bed.
Today we went to a coffee shop we like and had pastries and coffee and cocoa, then we did a bunch more shopping. Mostly we just got little things, but I also got Z's back-to-school sneakers. We got a few more books at the used book store as well. We wandered back to the hotel and split up -- Z and I to the Boardwalk, and Sweetie staying behind. I was excited to take the trolley that shuttles people between downtown and the Boardwalk. I was hoping to check out the new Marine Sanctuary, but it was closed today. The Boardwalk was a bit of a bust -- Z didn't care for her lunch, then didn't want to ride on any of the rides without me, and of course I can't ride. Finally, she went on the Swinger and we went together on the Ferris Wheel. We came back to the hotel and swam some more, then had a nice dinner at the hotel restaurant. Z seems really tired tonight, so we're retiring. So far, so good. I have lots of pictures, but it's not easy to add them with the technology I brought.
Take care,
CM
We skipped town on Sunday in the late morning and drove straight through to Santa Cruz, making good time until we hit traffic outside of San Jose. We stopped for gas (and a potty break), but still managed to make it in about 2 1/2 hours. The hotel wasn't quite ready for us to check in, so Sweetie waited on the hotel pool deck and Z and I went to a nearby playground. After settling in a bit, we walked downtown, then to Saturn Cafe for dinner. On the way back, we stopped at a candy shop called It'Sugar and Z spent a little of her pocket money on Everlasting Gobstoppers. We swam a bit before bed.
In the morning, we went to Cafe Brasil (one of the things we look forward to most), where Sweetie and I both had Gallo Pinto (a rice and bean dish served with eggs, tortillas, fried plantains, and a delicious vinegary sauce called Salsa Lizano. We came back to the hotel to grab sunscreen and beach toys, then went to Natural Bridges State Beach. At 10:30, there was an "Early Rangers" program on wetlands, frogs, and toads. It was mosty much younger kids, and Z was a little obnoxious about knowing all the answers. She even told us today that she showed the ranger the path to the pond, although she admitted he might have already known about it. Still, it was a nice little walk, and she was actually really good around the little guys -- one kept grabbing her binoculars and alternately trying to shove them into Z's eyes or rip them off Z's head. But she would say "No, thank you" and try to gently protect herself. I was proud.
After the walk, we went down to the beach and stayed for about three hours. It was really nice out. Z and Sweetie mostly hung out and let me lay on the beach and read. They explored, made sand castles, looked for shells, and dodged the waves (but not very well -- she got soaked!).
We then came home, showered and changed, and went down to Pacific Avenue. Z and I needed a snack, so Sweetie went to look at comics without us. We met him over there, then we did some book shopping. We looked around a touch more, then settled for dinner at Pono Hawaiian. It was pretty good! Sweetie had a spicy poke bowl and kahlua pork, and I had an edamame and mac nut hummus wrap. Z had a burger and fries -- not too exciting. After dinner, we grabbed a scoop of ice cream, then came back and swam for a while before bed.
Today we went to a coffee shop we like and had pastries and coffee and cocoa, then we did a bunch more shopping. Mostly we just got little things, but I also got Z's back-to-school sneakers. We got a few more books at the used book store as well. We wandered back to the hotel and split up -- Z and I to the Boardwalk, and Sweetie staying behind. I was excited to take the trolley that shuttles people between downtown and the Boardwalk. I was hoping to check out the new Marine Sanctuary, but it was closed today. The Boardwalk was a bit of a bust -- Z didn't care for her lunch, then didn't want to ride on any of the rides without me, and of course I can't ride. Finally, she went on the Swinger and we went together on the Ferris Wheel. We came back to the hotel and swam some more, then had a nice dinner at the hotel restaurant. Z seems really tired tonight, so we're retiring. So far, so good. I have lots of pictures, but it's not easy to add them with the technology I brought.
Take care,
CM
Monday, July 14, 2014
On "rape culture"
Last week, I read an article about a 16-year-old named Jada who had gone to a party, been given a drink by the young male host, and then blacked out. Later, she discovered pictures of herself being sexually assaulted at the party. Worse, her classmates and others were taking pictures of themselves, mocking the way she lay, arms and legs akimbo while unconscious, with the hashtag #Jadapose. It even got turned into a song.
On Saturday, I read a column by Ben Boychuk arguing against a Senate Bill requiring college students to obtain "affirmative consent" for sex, because (in his opinion) schools don't investigate sexual assault because there probably hasn't been any! Further, there are plenty of ways to address sexual assault already, and probably some of those women are lying anyway. Plus, rape is already a crime.
Then yesterday, I read the story of Anna, a college freshman who went to a frat party, had some drinks, then texted a friend several "get me out of here" messages. The friend came looking for her and found her being violated in a public place. He helped get her home, and when she realized what had happened (she also blacked out), she had a medical evaluation. The sexual assault nurse found evidence of "blunt-force trauma" and semen in and around her vagina and rectum. She was encouraged to report the assault to school authorities, who convened a panel and cleared the football players involved in just 12 days, without ever considering the medical evidence (two thirds of the panel never even were made aware there was medical evidence).
Perhaps you can see why the Boychuk article rubbed me the wrong way.
Early in his column, he complains about the dangers of needing to get
In reality, women don't report rape for many reasons. One is that their names are dragged through the mud, and they're mocked, stalked, and trolled, like the two women mentioned above. Another is that to do so often involves reliving an ugly experience by being tested with an invasive rape kit in the hospital. Even if they do get the rape kit test, there's a backlog of 400,000 of them that are as yet untested (so it may not do much good anyway). Many rape victims feel re-victimized by the legal system. Many are embarrassed. Many know the justice system will fail them anyway.
On Saturday, I read a column by Ben Boychuk arguing against a Senate Bill requiring college students to obtain "affirmative consent" for sex, because (in his opinion) schools don't investigate sexual assault because there probably hasn't been any! Further, there are plenty of ways to address sexual assault already, and probably some of those women are lying anyway. Plus, rape is already a crime.
Then yesterday, I read the story of Anna, a college freshman who went to a frat party, had some drinks, then texted a friend several "get me out of here" messages. The friend came looking for her and found her being violated in a public place. He helped get her home, and when she realized what had happened (she also blacked out), she had a medical evaluation. The sexual assault nurse found evidence of "blunt-force trauma" and semen in and around her vagina and rectum. She was encouraged to report the assault to school authorities, who convened a panel and cleared the football players involved in just 12 days, without ever considering the medical evidence (two thirds of the panel never even were made aware there was medical evidence).
Perhaps you can see why the Boychuk article rubbed me the wrong way.
Early in his column, he complains about the dangers of needing to get
“ongoing” “affirmative consent” throughout “a sexual activity.”Just imagine the complications. Did she say “yes”? Be certain now. Did you get it in writing? Maybe you should have. Were you drinking? Was she? Oh no, that won’t do at all. An intoxicated person can’t consent to anything.
Mr. Boychuk, I don't want to be rude, but ongoing affirmative consent (why the scare quotes, anyway?) just means you've got her saying "yes, baby, yes!" If that's an issue for you, maybe you're the problem.
And let's talk about being drunk. Do people have a glass of wine or a beer, get busy, and still have their faculties? Sure. But in both those cases cited above the girls were so drunk they blacked out. In one case, the girl was unconscious on the floor. Guess what? Those girls could not (and did not) give consent.
It's possible, as Boychuk asserts, that all colleges have a rape crisis center. But as you can see in the case of Anna, not all colleges take rape very seriously. One thing I left out of the summary of her case above is that the college sent letters to dozens of students naming the victim (not the accused, though -- they're still anonymous).
Just this week, Sen. Claire McCaskill, D-Mo., released a survey alleging widespread failure among U.S. colleges and universities to arrest this widely reported epidemic of sexual assaults. Among her report’s harrowing details: More than 40 percent of 300 schools surveyed had not investigated a sexual violence claim on campus in the past five years. “Which means,” the senator said, “they’re saying that there have been zero incidents of sexual assault on their campuses in the last five years. That is hard to believe.”Boychuk finds it easy to believe that something like 120 campuses had zero sexual assault? Like... for reals? Ben, let me Google that for you. Wait, here's another thing you should probably know. I'm not sure how the math works out here, but if 1 in 5 women are sexually assaulted, and NONE of them are at those 120 schools (out of the 300 studied), does that mean the rate is something like doubled at the other schools? Perhaps we should warn people! Let's tell women to go attend the rape-free schools!
Not as hard to believe as the study’s claim that universities and colleges are failing “to encourage students to report sexual violence.”
In reality, women don't report rape for many reasons. One is that their names are dragged through the mud, and they're mocked, stalked, and trolled, like the two women mentioned above. Another is that to do so often involves reliving an ugly experience by being tested with an invasive rape kit in the hospital. Even if they do get the rape kit test, there's a backlog of 400,000 of them that are as yet untested (so it may not do much good anyway). Many rape victims feel re-victimized by the legal system. Many are embarrassed. Many know the justice system will fail them anyway.
You know, home burglaries don't go underreported. At least, not by much, I'd imagine. Here's why: first, when your home is burglarized, there's a chance that if you report it you can get your stuff back. This is not an option with sexual assault, so a lot of women probably think, "Why bother?" But further, when you have your home burglarized, nobody asks you whether your door looked particularly inviting. No one asks whether you often have people over. No one suggests that it's not really that bad a crime, since sometimes you invite people in, and other times you voluntarily give your electronics to e-waste recycling drives. No one talks about the time you invited the Bissel guy in to demonstrate and says, "Oh, he'll open the door to ANYONE." And when the burglars are football stars, you don't just listen to them go, "The house came on to me!" and let them go.
Boychuk says that there is a "mostly unquestioned claim" that one in five college students are sexually assaulted. I assume that's his shitty way of questioning it. He follows this up by saying that it's, basically, a pretty big number! Uh... yeah. That doesn't mean it's wrong.
He then starts playing with language, arguing that sexual assault is a meaningless term because it's vague enough to mean "everything and nothing." That's the argument you want to make, Ben? That maybe attempted rape shouldn't count in statistics? Here's one definition of sexual assault -- it's true there are many, but this one from Wikipedia is pretty good:
Sexual assault takes many forms including attacks such as rape or attempted rape, as well as any unwanted sexual contact or threats. Usually a sexual assault occurs when someone touches any part of another person's body in a sexual way, even through clothes, without that person's consent.
So non-consensual sexual touching... not a big deal to Mr. Boychuk? Just checking.
As for the fact that it's already illegal, well... yeah. That doesn't mean that sometimes we don't clarify the wording of a law, or help people understand how to avoid breaking the law. And ultimately, I'm not sure why you would write nearly 800 words arguing against the stance that people probably ought to make sure their sexual partners are willing partners.
And finally, I know headlines are not always written by the author of an article, but we really need to lay off the scare quotes around rape culture. If you don't understand it, go learn. But don't dismiss it the way we might dismiss "sock gnomes" or something else we don't believe in.
Tuesday, July 01, 2014
The pictures!
I didn't get quite as many pictures as I might like, partly due to being ill on Monday and partly because I didn't want to kill my battery (the app I was using for maps and wait times was helpful, so I was consulting it a lot), but we did get some nice ones.
This was in Cars Land, and for some reason she really wanted a photo here.
The morning with Grandma.
Jungle Cruise. She was nervous at several points, but as soon as the "danger" passed, she was cool again.
The iconic photo, right?
He really enjoys making the teacup go.
She loved the princesses, hugged every one, and told them how beautiful they were.
Not a great shot, but she loved this Tarzan treehouse, and went on it three times.
With breakfast, because it was her birthday trip, they gave her a chocolate cupcake.
Exiting Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. I did not remember that it took you through Hell!
Chip and Dale. One of them has a red nose. That one is either Chip or Dale. That's how you tell them apart.
Slushy!
Getting splashed at Grizzly River Rapids.
A view of the hotel lobby.
The gorgeous front doors of the hotel.
The giant Lego store had several big Lego figures.
Perhaps my favorite: Sweetie and Boompah on the Tower of Terror (back row left and center).
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