I would have called it “Dear Vagina…”

I’ve been getting free copies of Parents magazine since I registered for the entire planet’s worth of baby crap at a huge baby store run by Geoffrey the giraffe.  I appreciate Geoffrey having the sense to know that I needed this magazine for free since I had no plans to ever pay for another magazine again in order to save money I don’t have and a few trees in the process.  Unfortunately for the trees, I kind of like getting free stuff especially when said stuff contains pages and pages of bright shiny pictures of things I won’t ever buy and great articles I can read in short bursts throughout the day.  Who ever knew it would take me a full month to flip through a 196 page magazine?  I'm a few months behind on my Parents reads but yesterday morning Avelyn brought me the June 2009 copy open to page 82.  Before I shut the cover and put it on “the pile to be dealt with later” I caught a glimpse of the title, “Regrets, I Have a Few” by Merrin Dungey.  I was intrigued.  I let Avelyn run around with scissors and plastic bags over her head for 5 minutes while I read all 1-1/2 pages and laughed my butt off.  It was everything I wanted to say but with a much higher caliber writing style.  Do you relate to any of this?  I do.  About 105%.  Enjoy.

Regrets, I Have a Few
Being a new mother means feeling a need to say I’m sorry.  By Merrin Dungey

Since I had my first child three months ago I've dealt with an endless string of sleepless nights, the relentless cycle of feeding and pumping and changing and comforting, and the slow realization that my life will never be the same again. Now that I've emerged from the fog of being a new mommy, I have a few things I need to say.

I want to start by apologizing to my vagina. I just … I just didn't know what was going to happen. I thought it would be easy. All my life I'd been told I have "child-birthing hips." That turned out to be a dirty lie. I pushed for three hours, and I put you, dear vagina, through hell. I did my best to protect you, and I apologize. I can only hope that the bad feelings between us can be healed. This relationship has gotten really painful, and it's been weeks now. Please let the healing begin.

I'd also like to say I'm sorry to my husband for all my inappropriate name-calling in the delivery room and the resentment I felt because I had to carry our child for nine months and you didn't.  I will have sex with you again someday, I promise.  Don't hold your breath or anything, but we'll get there. I'll wear attractive lingerie again as well. These grandma underpants aren't forever!

And honey … about my boobs. While I appreciate your attempts to touch them, try to understand that they are not for you at this time. These are working breasts, they are under construction at the moment, and we appreciate your patience. It's funny: I can see a mixture of fear and delight in your eyes at the size of them. And trust me, they are something to fear. I never thought a boob could dwarf the size of my baby's head, but it is true. Little Maisey’s bravery in attacking them day after day is impressive. I must apologize to her as well. I had no idea they would operate in a sprinkler fashion, and I have sprayed her in the face many, many times. But the way she fights through it is quite something.

I apologize to every woman whose baby shower I attended before I became a mom. All those useless stuffed animals and baby booties I bought … well, I'm sure they might have come in handy at some point, but I should have stuck to the registry and gotten things you truly needed.

I also must quickly apologize to my cats for bringing home the new “hairless cat that gets all the attention theses days.”  I’m sorry you are no longer permitted to sleep on the bed and that you have felt it necessary to let me know how you feel about things with your poo.  Message received.

I apologize once again to my husband, this time for criticizing you about the way you dress our daughter. I know she's my very own personal doll come to life, and I like to play dress-up. But you make such weird choices. Why would you put her in a sweater when it is 85°F? It's the middle of the day--a night-gown really? It's bedtime, sweetheart, why is she wearing a hat? I recognize this is not America's Next Top Model, but I do ask you to think about what makes sense sometimes. That's all.

I must also apologize to every new mom I ever bumped into before I had a baby for judging your appearance. I mentally criticized your old sweatpants, your over sized T-shirts, and your haphazard ponytails. I figured you just hadn't taken the time to get ready before you went out or were in dire need of a makeover. Now I understand those precious minutes you savor when the baby goes down for a nap--the desperation to make the most of them. I could shower! I could eat! I could sleep! Check my e-mail! Work-out! Do laundry! Have sex! (Well, maybe not just yet, but…) I could do so much if she would just sleep a little longer. Then, inevitably, there's that sound through the baby monitor. (Stop. Wait. Listen.) Was it for real? … That was just a sneeze, right? … She's not up,right? … Oh, please, I'm almost done eating, the coffee's finally ready, I thought I could shower. Just five more minutes please. Just … nope. She's up. She's hungry. She's wet. She's something. And once you've got her fed and changed and played with her, you're on the clock to get that errand done before it all unravels again. I get it now: There is absolutely no time for a blowout or blusher.  I was a complete jerk, and I’m sorry.

I see how people look at me--with that mixture of pity and disgust--in my old nursing tank covered in spit-up and the same maternity shorts I wear every day. I'm like the Elephant Man. I put my daughter in fancy clothes to compensate for the monster pushing her around. I see the stares. I know what you're saying. Well to heck with you, you small-pants wearing Miley Cyrus fan. I just had a baby. I am not always this fat.

I guess I should apologize for my anger.  But in solidarity with new moms everywhere, I'm not going to.

But I would definitely like to apologize to my former self. I always thought I had a few pounds to lose and could look better. I never knew how great I had it. What I wouldn't give to fit into my old clothes again! I look at them longingly day after day. Hi, jeans. Hello, Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress. You were all so good to me. (Sniff.)

I should have slowed down and enjoyed my freedom more when I had the chance. I used to beat myself up if I slept past eight or stayed out too late. I was a fool. A fool. What did I know? Oh, to do anything at all at a leisurely pace--shop, eat, read the newspaper--and anything without having to wear a monitor. Waiting. Listening. For her.

While I'm sending regrets I should apologize to my pre-baby boobs for not appreciating them enough. They were a great pair of boobs--not too big, just enough décolletage. And now … sigh … who knows what will be left of them once I stop nursing? I'm sorry, former boobs. I truly am.

I'll never be sorry about deciding to become a mother, though. There may be no going back to my old body or my old lifestyle, but having Maisey is worth everything I've had to give up and then some. But you already know that.

To find the original article click here to view Parents digital magazine.

I quit Prozac.

In January.  And the old me finally came RAGING back.  I’m refamiliarizing myself with this person on a day-to-day minute-by-minute basis.  I like her.  I missed her and her funny sense of pissed-offness.  I want to try to “integrate” her with Prozac Jenn.  Prozac Jenn was too subdued, too emotionally leveled, too buried all by herself.  She needs Angsty Jenn.  Together they could make a really confident, balanced, amazing woman.

I would like to write about the emotional roller coaster of real honest to goodness feelings I’m having again, something you don’t have often on antidepressants.  But I don’t have the time and I don’t feel like writing a super sappy sounding post.  I’m busy APA formatting a paper on Autism/Asperger’s.  (Can’t you tell?)  So instead I will summarize my experience as follows:

I had Post Partum Depression.  I cried a lot.  I thought I might die.  I imagined Avelyn dying.  I thought I was letting her down.  I knew I was letting myself down.  I knew I had a problem.  I got help.  Therapy + Drugs = Saving.  I started feeling better.  I learned I’m not to blame.  I learned it’s not my fault.  I learned I’m not responsible for anyone but me and her.  At some point I started feeling nothing.  I didn’t like feeling nothing.  I wanted to cry if I felt sad and yell if I felt angry and feel happy if I was happy.  I didn’t want to live in a dense fog of nothingness and not be able to form thoughts about what I wanted to say.  I wasn’t depressed anymore so I weaned off the drugs.  It was weird.  Now I’m feeling a lot.

So anyway, that drug saved me and if you’ll recall I am a nurse which means I believe in drugs when they are medically necessary and used judiciously.  But now the old me is back.  With gusto and angst, a pinch of sarcasm and a sprinkle of sardonicism.  Just regular old me.  I wonder if my Post Prozac (new) friends will like the old me as much as my Pre Prozac (old) friends do.  Hmm…

With that I leave you with a few tidbits that roll around up there on a some-more-regular-than-others basis:

The sound of you chewing is making me want to throw your food on the floor and rip your hair out.  Not necessarily in that order.

I can’t stand listening to you breathe.  My chest tightens, my hands clench and my heart races and I want to jump out of my chair and scream in your face “STOP BREATHING LOUDLY OR DON’T BREATHE AT ALL!!!!! EITHER LOSE SOME EFFING WEIGHT AND/OR STOP SMOKING SO YOU DON’T WHEEZE LIKE A FATASS COW!!!!!”  (My fake apologies to any of you [non-baby] loud breathers out there.)

Why are you here?  I clearly don’t want you here.  Don’t you see me tensing up and cringing in an involuntary defensive emotional response to your presence?   I’m trying to control it but it’s not working because I am having a visceral response to you.  My therapist and friendapist both said the same thing – I should quit feeling guilty about my FEELINGS.  They’re MY feelings and it’s how I FEEL so I am allowed to FEEL this way dammit. 

Dumbass*.

More and more I find myself shutting my eyes tight and breathing deeply to avoid screaming and embarking on a murderous rampage since this particular behavior could be potentially hazardous, especially while driving.

Sometimes the sound of that voice makes me hate you.

Wow.  That feels good to get off my chest.  I feel like a weight has been lifted.  Welcome back Me. 

(“Now maybe back off the “Angsty” part a tad until these nice folks get to know you better.”  “Shut yo’ face!”)

*For Richey.  Even though he doesn’t read this blog.

Conversations

“Well that’s cause you and I are old as dirt and learned to use the Dewey Decimal system when we were kids.“

“Yeah, I bet half our class doesn’t even know what Microfiche is. [To a younger friend] Do you know what microfiche is?”

“Is that like Twitter or something”

‘Nuf said.

64 days to Momma’s graduation!

The plague sleepeth upstairs

Two sick people are currently sleeping in their respective beds upstairs.  I am supposed to be packing up the apartment for our big “move into storage” extravaganza tomorrow.  Alas, I sit here in my white t-shirt and pink wet-hair towel writing because you know what?  I’m tired of packing and I boycott until tomorrow morning.

Hobo Baby has been sick since Wednesday suffering from her first bout of fluid imbalance (AKA vomiting and diarrhea-ing all day).  Close to half the kids at school including three in her class were out with the same bug.  Four weeks in and the Bubonic Plague Academy of the World (daycare) has kicked my kid to the curb three times.  A cold, an ear infection and the heaves.  

Speaking of ear infections, after sleeping all day Thursday and barely eating anything she ran a 103.5 temp so Kevin and I took Hobo to the doctor when they got to Houston.  Guess what she has?  Duh da da daaaa, another ear infection.  This is two times in the left and once on the right.  Three since December.  I can almost hear those tubes a-comin’.

Since I have packed up most of the house and eaten everything worth eating in the pantry Kevin stopped at Luby’s to pick up some dinner.  I had my usual, LuAnn with fried fish, green beans and mashed potatoes.  He had the chicken pot pie.  The man loves him some CPP.

I ran Avelyn a bath which finally made her remember who I was and we bonded a little.  Oh, did I forget to mention that my ten month old(!) daughter has decided that she loves Kevin like she used to love me and vice versa?  Well she has, little turncoat.  I hobbled around for weeks after her gorgeous body came ripping out of my hoo hoo and this is how she repays me?  By pretending that this temporary shift in home base somehow means Daddy is her savior?  Oi.  I thought this wasn’t supposed to come for a few more years.  Or months at least. 

After she hit the hay we ordered the moving truck, reserved the storage space and got to packing up the rest of the random crap laying around our house.  Where does all this stuff come from?  Why do we own it?  I don’t use this stuff but I can usually find one reason not to throw it away. That being said, in the future please refrain from sending anymore crap my way.

As the night dragged on Kevin kept making reference to his sick stomach, worrying that that his Seinfeld-esque vomit streak was soon to meet it’s end.  Eventually I told him to go take a “not hot” shower and go to bed.  I hate packing all by myself but what I would hate worse is vomit in my open box of barware.

Just when I decided to call it quits for the night I heard the thunderous stomp of a man running for the bathroom.  Damn.  Good thing he took that bucket with him to bed.  Being a good nursey-wife I sprang into action and bounded upstairs, only to veer off into Avelyn’s room to check on her until the worst of the gut wrenching heaves had stopped.  Hey, I can handle all kinds of gooey goodness but there is no reason to stand above a man hurling the entire contents of his bowels into a toilet.  He ain’t got no hair to hold back.  I did take care of him after that and now he is sleeping peacefully.  Hopefully he didn’t get Avelyn’s bug and just caught the death from the Luby’s.

Damn chicken pot pie.  

A day in the life

In case you were dying to know what goes on around here on a daily basis I thought I would steal an idea from a friend and conduct a very official, very professional interview with my very handsome and very sincere husband.

J: How do you feel about my blog?
K: [Repeats question] It’s hard to come up with an emotion I feel about it.  Envious.  Envious, that's how I feel.
J: [Giggling] Why?
K: You have a blog that’s good that people read.  I don’t have a blog that’s good that people read.

[Chuckling]

J: Do you secretly want your own blog?
K: Yes.
J: What would you write?
K: Probably my musings on pop culture and mass media.
J: You sound boring. 
K: Yeah.

J: Can you, and do you ever do the moonwalk just because you can?
K: I can do it.  I don’t because it’s too powerful.

J: Do you want another baby?
K: Yes… No… Yes… No… not right now.  Although I would like to have sex more often so maybe.

J: How do you feel about the dinners I make for you?
K: Uh, you don’t.  I feel the same way about your dinners as the children of Never-Never Land feel about theirs.  They’re imaginarily delicious.

J: What is your favorite thing about Avelyn?
K: Waking up to her, when she wakes up happy.  That or her falling asleep on me, I like that too… reading bedtime stories to her.  There are a lot of favorite things I have about Avelyn.
J: Looks like they all involve sleeping.
K: Yeah they do, I like it when she sleeps.  [Mutual laughing].  Reading stories to her is also fun.  I like being able to recite the pigeon book at any point and she lights up.  I like her determination.  She finds ways to get places. 
J: Good Lord, she sounds like you.

J: Words to live by?
K: [Repeats question]  Get off your ass you lazy bum.
J: I hope you’re not talking about me!
K: No that’s my words to me, I say it to myself.
J: Oh okay.

J: Why are you so retarded, ahem, mentally challenged?
K: [Laughs.  Repeats question]  The honest answer?  Probably too many blows to the head as a child. 
J: [Giggling] By whom?
K: Okay, too many bows to the head by sporting equipment.  Lack of Jamba Juice in my diet as a youngster.  Lack of brain food.
J: I don’t think they had Jamba Juice when you were a youngster, Old Man.

J: If you were an animal what would you be?
K: OMG.  One of those questions? 
J: Yes.
K: [Repeats question]  I’d be a kangaroo. 
J: A kangaroo?
K: A kangaroo, yes.  Am I allowed to justify the reason?
J: Yes.
K: Because I could beat anyone up and no one would want to eat me because I taste like shit.  Really I do, even in sausage form.
J: [Laughing] And how do you know this?
K: Because I've eaten a kangaroo in sausage form and it tastes like shit.

J: Blonde or brunette?
K: For what?  For what I want to [sleep with]?  Blonde.  For myself?  Brown because I have brown hair.  Wait, are you asking if I want to be a blond or brunette kangaroo?  Because if that’s the case, probably black. 
J: What?
K: I'd look meaner wouldn’t I?  A black haired kangaroo?
J: Yes, I guess you would.

J: Do you think you could come up with an interview yourself?
K: Um, I've given interviews before, so, well, yes then.

J: Can I have a sample question?
K: [Repeats question]  An interview without a purpose seems kind of pointless.  Why am I interviewing you again?  Okay, if you could be your spouse for a day, would you and why or why not?

J: Can I answer that question?
K: Yes, please do.
J: I would.  I would want to see just how much sex you think about during the day.  I’d also want to see how much of a bitch I am to you from your perspective.

[Laughing]

J: If you could be a New Kid on the Block who would you be?
K: That’s easy.  Donnie.
J: He’s the ugliest! Why?!
K: He’s the one who's gone on to do something meaningful with his life.
J: Oh right.  I was thinking of Jordan.  He’s the ugly one.  And Jonathan.  Oh and Danny.  Yugh.
K: And Donnie has a rich brother, Mark.
J: Oh yeah, he’s hot.

J: What do you want on your tombstone?
K: “Get off your ass you lazy bum”.  Or no, “You should've gotten off your ass you lazy bum”.
J: No words about your loving wife or your child?
K: “He is survived by his lazy wife and hopefully not so lazy child”.
J: You’re an A-hole.
K: How ‘bout “Get off your ass you lazy beloved husband and father”?

J: Any last words?
K: No.

J: Is that a metaphor for our life, “No”?
K: No.  I don’t know, we do have to say “no” a lot.  We have a horrible matricidal  cat, a dog that’s on meds that make her pee a lot and want to eat all the time and a baby becoming mobile that hears “no” a lot.  Maybe it is a metaphor for our life.

J: Okay, so what is a metaphor for our life?
K: The tide.
J: The tide?
K: Yeah, the tide.  Not the detergent but the tide.  You know what I mean?
J: Uh, sure, it goes in and goes out but it’s always there?
K: Sure but how is that a metaphor for us?
J: I don’t know, it always come back?
K: [Chuckling] Okay thank you.
J: No, thank you.

Death by cilantro

Tonight at dinner Avelyn confirmed my worst fear -- that she finds the thought of a dead Momma really, really freaking hysterical. I was holding her on my lap and she was jumping up and down. When I went to inhale, a piece of cilantro (mmm) got sucked to the back of my throat and stuck there like that three year old mosquito on my windshield. I started hacking and coughing really hard and I couldn't catch my breath. I'm pretty sure my face looked like a tomato. What does Avelyn do? She laughs. HYSTERICALLY. Like I've never heard her laugh before. A full on, "hahahahehehuhuhuhehehehahahahahuhuhuhahahehehe!!!!!!!!". This of course made me laugh, which just worsended my hacking and coughing which made her laugh even harder which made everyone else at the table laugh.

I remember my MIL telling me about the first time Kevin laughed for real, and how beautiful it was but she could not for the life of her figure out what she did that was so funny. She tried for hours to do "it" again. Turns out it was some weird noise she made. I felt like that tonight. Avelyn has been laughing for weeks now but never in a real "OMG this is so funny this is so funny, I'm going to laugh until I -- uh oh I just peed on myself ha ha huh huh huh huh huh this is so funny" kind of way. For the record, it was SOOOOO funny. Man I love this baby.

Can you tell how much she enjoyed her first pancake? It was an awful lot.

Dear Self

Dear Self,

You are less than 4 months away from graduating with your BSN.  Stop being a punk and get your butt in gear.  Remember your goals.

You'll be a real A-hole if you slack off now.

Love,

Self

PS-your kid is crying so your break is over.  Toodles!

Avelyn Squared

Avelyn was in the womb for roughly 37 weeks and 2 days. She has now been out of the womb for exactly 39 weeks and 2 days. Unbelievable. Happy 275 days of life BabyGirl!

Kevin wanted to make sure I posted the story that follows. He says if I'm going to talk about him getting in trouble for not doing something then it's only fair I tell about the time he got in trouble for doing something. He makes some sense.

I put Avelyn to bed tonight and came back downstairs to make dinner. I had been making my own baby food earlier in the evening and filling up the trash with the stinky fruit peels. Well, I go to throw away the yucky, bloody meat packaging and the trash bag is gone! And there isn't a new one in the garbage can!!

"Where's the trash?" I asked.
"I took it out. It was full."
"Oh. Well I was waiting to take it out after dinner so I could put the rest of the smelly stuff in it."
"Wait a minute," he says incredulously, "I just want to get this straight -- I'm getting in trouble for taking the garbage out?"
"You're not in trouble! I'm just saying, it wasn't that full and I wanted to put the stuff from dinner in it. Thank you for taking out the garbage without being asked. That was wonderful, it happens so rarely it didn't cross my mind as a possibility."
"Oh, okay. Well you better blog about this later. I want people to know I was getting in trouble for voluntarily taking out the garbage without being asked."

So there you go friends, Kevin took out the garbage. On his own. Without being asked.

And the beat goes on

I passed my first final today! Yay!!! Only one more on Wednesday and then I'm off to San Antonio to take back my baby! Oh yeah, I guess I haven't posted much in the way of real info in a while.

I woke up Sunday and decided to send Little Lady with Kevin back to San Antonio. This is my FIRST time away from her since she was born. I knew I would be better able to concentrate on school if I didn't have any distractions. Even really, really cute and cuddly distractions. It was hard and I miss her very much but I have to admit, this time to myself hasn't been all bad. She's so nice to have around that I think I've forgotten what quiet sounds like. I caught myself turning the volume down on the radio last night and then realized, I don't have to do that! and turned it way up.

When I walked upstairs the first time after they left and saw her quiet room the house felt so empty. And sleeping by myself, in a completely dark room for the first time in eight months wasn't what I expected it to be. I still woke up at the same times she usually cries. I heard a few noises in the night and jolted awake looking towards her crib which was dark and empty. It was so weird. Hopefully tonight I will sleep better. And sleep late. But not likely. I'm still a walking zombie most of the time but I'm in full Mom Mode now, and Mom Mode has a damn internal alarm clock that goes off at all the wrong times and never shuts up.

Kevin just emailed me some pictures of her from San Antonio! I think she definitely looks older and wiser since yesterday morning.

Apparently it's as cold in San Antonio as it was in Houston today. Being Bad Parents of the Year we still haven't bought Little Lady a coat. Or hat. Or socks or shoes that fit. Kevin bundled her up in her giant baby cloths that are supposed to fit her next winter and they had lunch with Grandaddy then up to Kevin's work to show her off. One professor's student had given them a hat made in Guatemala and when she found out about us being Bad Parents she gave Little Lady the hat. It is clearly made for a Barbie being as it appears to be about to pop off her huge baby head at any moment. Isn't she dreamy? Oh how I miss her!

Thank you Callie for thinking of me and Katie when you found this.

Oh yeah, speaking of dreamy, meet my new international crush, Витас (Vitas). He's kind of pop-sensation-meets-phantom-of-the-opera-meets-stab-victim. If you're not immediately sucked in by the hooded orchestra, the accordion player, or the writhing mass of people in the background I must insist you at least tune in until 1:07. (Thanks Nurse Paige!)

Thoughts on the bail out

A Doctors Overview of The Financial Bail-Out Package

All the Allergists voted to scratch the whole deal.
Dermatologists advised everybody to not make any rash moves.
The Gastroenterologists had a gut feeling about it, but the
Neurologists thought the Administration had a lot of nerve.

Obstetricians felt they were all laboring under a misconception.
The Ophthalmologists considered the idea shortsighted;
the Pathologists yelled, 'Over my dead body!'
while the Pediatricians said, 'Oh, Grow up!'

The Psychiatrists thought the idea was madness.
The Radiologists could see right through it,
and the Surgeons decided to wash their hands of the whole thing.

The Internists thought it was a bitter pill to swallow, and the
Plastic Surgeons said, "This puts a whole new face on the matter."
The Podiatrists thought it was a step forward, but the
Urologists felt the scheme wouldn't hold water.

The Anesthesiologists thought the whole idea was a gas, and the
Cardiologists didn't have the heart to say no.
In the end, the Proctologists left the decision up to some assholes in Washington.

Thanks for sending this L! I think we all need a laugh this week.

That whole Mars and Venus thing continues

Got this in an email today and thought it was too appropriately related to recent topics of conversation.

Husbands beware!

This was forwarded to me by one of the girls from the Old Married Ladies Club. It's worth 4 minutes and 41 seconds of your day. Enjoy!

The Doghouse

Springs, dumps and black belts

Parents Strongly Cautioned

This post contains some material that many parents would find unsuitable for children under 14 years of age. Parents are strongly urged to exercise greater care in monitoring this post and are cautioned against letting children under the age of 14 read unattended. This post contains one or more of the following: intense violence (V), intense sexual situations (S), strong coarse language (L), or intensely suggestive dialogue (D).

We spent the afternoon in Old Town Spring walking around and looking at wares, some cool and thus too expensive, and some crap and thus not purchased. Avelyn and I slung it in front of some Christmas characters and I finally realized that the Halloween candy, loaves (plural) of banana bread, chocolate ice cream and BAGS of pretzels I've been devouring for the past few weeks are catching up with me. For my own selfish pride I've chosen the photo in which I most don't look like I'm reenacting IV fat face.

Stopped by the The Dump on the way home and ran inside to scan their rug selection while Kevin drove a sleeping baby around the parking lot and took pictures of the setting sun reflecting in shop windows. They had a few rugs I really liked for $239 and under. Too bad we're so freakin' broke. Why do I do this to myself?

Got home and plugged in the iPod whence we proceeded to dance the evening away with Little Bit until she begged for a bath.

Jammin' from Jennifer Welch on Vimeo.
I called Kevin upstairs after a little bath play to see her being oh so cute. He came up singing The Flaming Lips.

"Her name is Yoshimi - she's a black belt in karate, woo hoo... WOO! Hey do you think she (Avelyn) should take karate?"

"I don't know. If she wants to I guess." He then segways into Tenacious D.

"With karate I'll kick your ass..." and he kicks me in my ass as I'm bent over the tub washing our daughter.

"What the hell! You just kicked me in the vag! Well you kicked me half in my ass too. I pushed a baby out of that area and it's all messed up you A-hole. That hurt!" (I wonder how long I can use this excuse...)

"I didn't mean to kick you in the vagina."

"How about you just don't KICK me!"

It was a pretty entertaining conversation. I wish I had it on tape because you'd all laugh your own a$$es off. When I told him later that of course I would be retelling the story here on the blog he rolled his eyes and smirked like it was a dumb idea so I proceeded to recite to him our conversation and he realized how funny it was. As I walked upstairs he said "Well, at least it will reflect my eclectic musical taste." I guess that's why I love him.

Ramblings

I think I've got Avelyn on a schedule. It's not perfect but then again nothing is. She is eating, napping and going to bed around the same times each day. It's glorious. Now if I can only get her to realize that 5:30 am is NOT an acceptable time to wake up.

My dog won't quit eating. Or peeing. Or pooping. Seriously, she looks for food all the time. Monday she broke into a double bagged trash bag and ate a half pound of sausage while we were upstairs. Her belly was a solid mass and it was disgusting. Damn steroids.

Thumper bit Avelyn twice in the last month. Not really hard but it happened. I beat him (or tried to) each time but in all honesty he wasn't to blame. She loves him and enjoys hitting him and pulling his ears and hair. It's what babies do so she's not to blame either. She also loves it when Etta licks her. Ewwwwwwwww. I just try to keep an eye on them all and make sure nothing too dangerous goes down.

School is eating my soul. I do what I can and accept what I can't but I could be doing more. I'm going to try to do more. I am going to do more. Tomorrow.

Sweet. Lord. A LOST teaser just played on the TV!!!!!!!! I can't wait!!!!!!!! Please hurry back, LOST!

Somehow the TV is stuck on the CMA Awards. I'm not really watching -- nevermind yes I am, The Eagles are on! There was a reason I landed here! I LOVE the Eagles! Oh. Nevermind. Shania Twain's on now. Someone should tell her that Erica Kane's hairstyle only looks good on Susan Lucci. And it only looks good on Susan Lucci because she's been sporting it since 1908.

I won a game of Facebook Scrabble last night when I should have been sleeping. Or studying. It would be a nice feeling if I hadn't of cheated. Sorry Amanda. "Hi. My name is Jennifer and I'm a cheataholic. Last night I used the Scrabble online dictionary more than once. I'm ashamed but also brain dead. It's an empty victory."

Geez my dog is fat.

I am so in love with my baby.

Dear Momma

Dear Momma,

I officially laughed yesterday and again today. Are you happy? Now stop being a bitch.

Love,
Avelyn

PS - if you try to catch it on camera one more time I will stop again for another 3 months.
PPS - this is our 200th post. Is that cool, crazy or sad?

The world is full of 'em

Before I begin let me just say that any of you who knew me before the baby would be (a little) surprised at my new pleasant demeanor. I am much more calm and friendly now.  Drugs will do that for you.

It was a little after seven and Avelyn had just fallen asleep.  I was on the phone with a friend talking excitedly about our baby's first Halloween's (stay tuned for pictures!) when there was a knock on the door.  Naturally our fearless protector, Etta, started letting them know she meant business.  Since Etta was barking and I was on the phone I figured if it was an axe murderer they probably wouldn't try to kill me.  Too many people would hear.  (We don't have a peephole...sigh...long story.)

So I opened the door and recognized the guy as my next door neighbor who has owned the adjoining condo for a year but has never lived there.  Over the last few months he has irritated me to no end by renovating the place between 4pm and 11pm.  That's right.  On more than one occasion Kevin or I very nicely-politely-jovially knocked on his door and asked that they keep the noise down because I had a newborn inside that couldn't sleep with all the racket.  The first time they pretended not to hear the knock on the door.  That should tell you something.

The last time I heard anything out of them was a few weeks ago.  They were working around 9:30pm out on the patio doing something that apparently required banging the door against the fence over and over and over and over and.... I hated them but I was polite EVERY time I asked them to please keep the noise down or stop for the night.  I mean come on, you do not renovate a home at night.  Especially when it's a humble abode and not a freestanding house.  An abode of which shares walls with other people's abodes.

Back to tonight, I opened the door to find this guy.  He looks alright.  The dog is barking.  I'm on the phone, asking my friend to hang on.  

"Do you have a minute?" he asked, and said some other stuff I couldn't hear over the barking.

"Not really," I said (again - POLITELY), "I have a baby upstairs I'm trying to get to sleep."  Weird pause.  "Why?"

"Oh, well, I was going to give you a courtesy call but you're being very rude so..."

Excuse me?!?  I'M being rude?  You are a douchebag that woke my NEWBORN baby up more than once this summer.  You are an a$*h07e that knocked on MY door interrupting MY evening in MY home and are making me deal with my stupid barking dog and I AM BEING RUDE???  

I was stunned.  Luckily his wife had just walked around the corner and made a loud "Shshshshsh" sound and jumped in and started talking.  Which was good because I'm not sure how I would have reacted.  Part of me wanted to slam the door in his stupid little face.  Another part wanted to say what I wrote above and another part (the old Jennifer) probably wanted to stand there like an idiot and then come up with something biting and clever to say 3 days too late.  

Turns out they are having some sort of meeting tomorrow at their home from 7-8pm and wanted to give me a "courtesy call" since they knew I had a baby.  Isn't that nice?  Why did he have to be such an ass about it?  I was very grateful to know about this in advance, and it was courteous of them to give me a heads up.  It's not like I run the complex just because I have a sleeping baby.  

My friend suggested I go over tomorrow or when I see them next and thank them for letting me know ahead of time.  Keeping peace with your neighbors and all.  She's probably right.  I've never cared about keeping peace with any neighbor but this will be good practice.  I shall rise above my idiot neighbor and thank them the next time I see them.  Kill 'em with kindness, right? 

Oh - the kicker was after the wife smoothed things over and they were about to leave the guy says "You're renting here, right?"  Yes, dumbass.  Why should that make a difference?  Maybe he knows my landlord.  Maybe he IS my landlord!  GASP!#$*&%

Dear Avelyn

Dear Avelyn,

Why won't you laugh for Momma? We all know how funny and riveting my stories are. I thought months ago you had started when I put up that video for all to see. Guess not. I just wanted you to know how your smiles light up my life. Sometimes seeing you smile is the only thing that makes the day worthwhile. After a long day of nursing or class I can't wait to come home to you and see your face when you see mine. Everyone knows how much I loathe getting up early in the morning but I don't mind so much when I get to wake up to you. I think a laugh would really help this too.

Is it too much to ask to hear your adorable giggle? I don't need to hear it to know it will be adorable, that goes unsaid. Each night after your bath I dry you off on the bed. You get cold, since the house is cooling down for bedtime, and I wrap you in your towels and blow warm air all over you and make growling noises on your tummy. You love it. It's the only time I think you might be close to a wholehearted chuckle. I think I've heard one once or twice and it was the most beautiful sound. I can't wait much longer! I need to hear it on a regular basis!

Anyway, you're kind of starting to give me a complex. Could it be that I'm not as funny as I think I am? Lord I hope not, I have so little. So pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top....? Just thought I would ask.

I love you!
Momma

Baby, we're halfway there

Avelyn is six months old... as of 5 days ago but still, I can't believe it! We decided to go to the Renaissance Festival for her 1/2 year birthday. I wanted to go last year but we never made it and I was determined to take Avelyn. I was a woman on a mission to find a stool. More on that later. There is an unbelievable amount of pictures in this post but I couldn't help it, we had such a great day. The weather was perfect, if not a little hot in the sun, and the freaks were on parade. I would like to enter into evidence, Exhibit A:

But the freaks are the main reason to go to the Renaissance Festival. If you think it's fun to go to play the cheap games, eat the overpriced food or ride the incredibly unsafe looking rides you are sadly mistaken. It is the weirdos. They abound. Now don't get me wrong, I have nothing against these weirdos, for the world is full of all kinds of weirdos. As I said they are THE reason for going. That and wooden stools but we'll get to that later.

Anyway, we pulled into the festival somewhere around noonish. It had been cool that morning so I had Avelyn in a white t-shirt and jeans with a cute little green hoodie from Gymboree. Given the surprise heat and her penchant to overheat like her father, the hoodie was immediately thrown in the stroller basket and her flower headband pulled on her head to avoid any references at all to her being a boy. Ten minutes later we walked through the woods to the entrance and I heard a woman say to her husband, "Oh look at him in his blue jeans. Isn't he so cute?"

I just looked at Kevin, "SHE IS WEARING A DAMN HEADBAND. WITH A FLOWER ON IT."

"She's an idiot," was all he replied and we kept walking. After we walked about 25 feet inside the entrance my brilliant husband wondered aloud if I'd packed any sunscreen. Crap.

"Should I leave and go get some?"

"I don't know. Maybe they sell some here."

He went to ask. "The lady said they don't sell sunscreen inside the gates."

"That's ridiculous. It's an outdoor festival, how can they not sell sunscreen. Go look somewhere else."

"Okay but I might have to leave and go to that gas station up the road."

"We'll wait here."

Five minutes later Kevin returned with an outrageously expensive bottle of sunscreen that was for sale at a shop next door to the idiot lady. I make peace with her by believing that she is probably a die hard Renaissance person who believes if it wasn't made a few hundred years ago it just IS NOT sold at the Festival. That or she's a total fruit. Either way it might be the best sunscreen we've ever bought. It smelled curiously of bananas even though it wasn't Banana Boat and it didn't burn at all. I hate sunscreen because my sensitive skin burrrrrrns when I use it and I was terrified of putting it on Avelyn for the first time. I think I might buy boxes of this new stuff in bulk. After applying it we were all pasty white which is only humorous because we are three of the whitest people you will ever see with or without this body paint sunscreen.We walked around looking at wares. Avelyn flirted with several big busty ladies as if she knew what the big busty parts were meant for. (Trust me - she doesn't.) We sat around and people watched for a while while I talked about getting Avelyn's face painted (we didn't) and Kevin studied the map and figured out the most appropriate route to take so we wouldn't walk in circles (we did). We walked over to an archery set up and I talked Kevin into giving it a go. He grabbed a bow off the post and when we couldn't find any arrows he just used the bow to grab one over the fence. It's harder than it looks but he did pretty well. As we walked away I noticed a sign that read "10 arrows for $X". Way to STEAL arrows, Kevin.

When we all got hungry I had my long sought after sausage on a stick which wasn't nearly as delicious as I remember. Avelyn had a bottle. Kevin had a GIANT turkey leg and felt sick halfway through at the sheer amount of meat. I tried to guilt him into eating the whole thing by talking about how huge the turkey who died giving up that leg must have been. He didn't buy it. (And Erika, I cannot believe we never thought to take a photo of Avelyn holding that turkey leg. It must have been as big as she was.) One of Kevin's favorite tradesmen at the festival was the pickle salesman. He walked around with his big pickle carts yelling "Pickllllllllllllllllllllles! Colllllllllld pickllllllllllllllllllllles!" I really wanted to stop and ask how his Renaissance era pickle refrigerator worked but I refrained. Kevin also really enjoyed making fun of all the hypocritic weirdos.

We walked some more after lunch and looked at all the things Avelyn will one day beg to do and that I will pray don't kill her. 1) The elephant, camel or llama rides because a) it is depressing to see those beautiful animals walking in circles all day and b) who's to say they won't stage a coup and stampede away with her astride? 2) The bungee swing. I am AMAZED every child on that thing did not snap their spine. 3) The crazy renaissance version of the tea cup ride. Just looking at it made me gag on my own vomit.

I stood in line for a good 5 minutes to have my palm read. I thought I was second in line but as it turns out an entire family of half drunk "fancy" red necks (red necks with a little money) were in front of me, all talking at length about who should get what. "You git the massage and the tarot and I'll get the palm reading. No let's all git massages together! No let's all git a reading and a massage and we can go get another drink until it's our turn!" I took it as a sign and walked away. It would have been entertaining but I don't need a kook to tell me what an awesome life I'm going to have and how rich I'm going to be. And if she was going to say something else than clearly she's an idiot too.

We strolled through some gardens and got some pictures of my little Sweet Face. Wouldn't you know she smiled the biggest when Kevin forgot he was on manual focus.

I finally found another face painting booth that didn't have a long line and jumped in. Five minutes later we had this!

I'm still bummed I didn't get one too. Next time, definitely. We went in a lot of shops and found neat things but we couldn't get everything we liked and I was still holding out hope for a stool. I wish we'd gotten things in every one of these stores. Look how interested she is in the water prisms...

For the rest of the day we merely walked around looking in shops, ate some funnel cake and took photos. I found a pretty butterfly garland to hang from the ceiling in Avelyn's room. I will try to get a photo and post it here later so if you really, really care about butterfly ceiling hangy things be sure to check this post tomorrow for an update.

Here are some good Avelyn and Daddy shots. Anyone else want to second his motion for a paternity test? No?!? Didn't think so.

My husband, the ham. Okay, I asked him to take the executioner picture. There is a photo of my dad in the whatchamacallit thingy you put your head and hands through at the Renaissance Festival of 1987. I was kind of recreating that memory. He did it for me.

Avelyn's six month birthday pictures! These are some of my favorite pictures of her to date. She sat up so well at her Halloween pics on Friday and by the time we took these on Saturday she was a sitting up pro. Oh, my beautiful baby.

So about this stool I was looking for... I have a vague memory of a stool my sister got when we were little. I remember her getting it at the Renaissance Fair. That may not be true but please, don't fool with my memories, they're all I have left. Anyway, I remember getting one of those flower crowns with ribbons running down the back but it clearly did not last as long as that stool. I think it had a bear with some balloons on it or something and maybe had her name painted on it. I'm not sure but for some reason the memory of this stupid stool stuck with me and I wanted one for Avelyn. Maybe it is because it is something that will last longer than a fairy costume or a pair of wings. It's something Avelyn can use at the bathroom sink to brush her teeth or crawl into her big girl bed when the time comes.

We looked all day for this stool and couldn't find anything. I was getting pretty discouraged. Disillusioned, I thought of the earlier Festival experience and how different it seemed to me 20 years later. Finally we stumbled into one of the last stores of the day. I wasn't even going that direction, I was ready to pack up and go when Kevin dragged me over "just to check it out". Guess what we found... Avelyn's stool! It was perfect. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it. We hemmed and hawed about a butterfly desk/chair combo, a lamb rocking chair or this ladybug stool. The other two were more expensive and they were beautiful but in the end I decided to stick with what I came for. I love it, and I hope it gets a lot of wear and tear over the next few years.

All in all we had such a wonderful time. I can't believe six months have gone by since Avelyn was born. Just today I watched the video of her birth for the first time. It was beautiful. Of course it helped that Kevin heeded my words and angled the camera in a way that does not show the ooey gooey. I had almost forgotten how tiny she was. How beautiful she was from the very beginning. Also, how freaking good I looked for having just birthed a human being.

Happy half year birthday, Avelyn!!

Love, Momma

Like, before I'm dead.

I'm taking a break.  A break from studying.  It is 2:29am, my brain is dead and my eyes are heavvvvvvy.  All I want to do is snooze.  

After nodding off more than once around 10:45pm I decided to push the computer aside for a while and take a little power nap to rejuvenate for the long haul and didn't wake up until 1:30.  So now, 61 minutes later, I am finishing up skimming all my notes for my test tomorrow.  By finishing up I mean I have 18-1/2 power points to look over.  I'm not completely unfamiliar with the material but I'm definitely not familiar enough with it to remember a dang thing.  With Avelyn not feeling well last week and having clinical obligations yesterday and today I just didn't get as much done beforehand as I wanted.  You don't even have to say it because I know, "Welcome to nursing school.  Welcome to parenthood.  Idiot."

It is late, I am tired, I miss Kevin and I want to sleep next to Baby Girl.  Whoever said "sleep when you're dead" better watch out because I'm on the warpath and I'm carrying a big paddle with his name on it.

[JAR: Jennifer is not typing this stupid blog that is probably boring you to tears.  She is sleeeeeping soundly in the next room in a giant comfy bed with a big fat pillow.  Much to her amazement "they" developed a Learn While You Sleep! machine over the weekend that integrates the information she needs and transfers it to her brain via energy waves while she catches some zzz's.  "That's insane," you are saying, "such a machine surely does not exist!"  Luckily in JAR Jennifer gets whatever she wants.  Suck it.]

NANDA, my dear NANDA

It's really funny that I stumbled upon this after I recently posted my own (not nearly as funny) nursing diagnosis story. I had to repost it here. Only my nursing school buddies can fully appreciate what follows. I typed something into google looking up NANDA and this blog popped up. I'm not quite sure why I clicked on it, and this isn't the most recent post, but I laughed pretty hard. Too bad I can't take credit.

Copied from:
Mostly True Stories: Tales from nursing school, travel, labor and delivery, and the bathroom

Monday, November 20, 2006

"...as evidenced by: a story from nursing school"

Nursing diagnoses crack me up. They are composed of some of the least economic writing ever to find its way into print. A nursing diagnosis is the “it was a dark and stormy night” of the clinical world. Take, for instance, this ND (short, of course, for nursing diagnosis): Imbalanced nutrition: more than body requirements. That means fat! Big fat patient! Fat because he ate too much! Now it might be more sensitive and descriptive to say overweight or obese, this I will admit. But, imbalanced nutrition: more than body requirements?

Nursing is a defensive, insular field. Nurses are particularly defensive of our position as professionals. And it is easy to see how that defensiveness came about. We are a profession dominated by women, often viewed by the public as assistants to doctors – and we do assist doctors at times! It is good and necessary that we continue to define ourselves as professionals. But these nursing diagnoses – they ARE funny. Too many words.

After writing care plans for three and a half semesters, I find that I sometimes switch into ND language without warning. I occasionally automatically communicate with nursing diagnoses or in a care plan format. On my way to a study session at J’s house recently, I realized that I was going to be quite late. I called her on my cell phone, “J, I’m at risk for study session tardiness related to not leaving the house on time as manifested by me not being there yet!”

“Oh no,” she said, “that puts me at risk for imbalanced nutrition: more than body requirements related to me eating all the cookies I made for the study group as evidenced by the cookies already being half gone!”

I replied, “that sounds like ineffective health maintenance to me.”

“No,” she countered, “you obviously have a knowledge deficit.”

“I’m in spiritual distress!”

“You are experiencing ineffective denial!”

It just degenerated from there.

-Posted by Working Girl at 2:32 PM