are things complicated yet?

BIG NEWS! I won't be cleaning bathrooms any more! WOOOOO!

Going on vacation with Claire at 6 months old is the smartest thing we ever did.  It totally reset us.  It jangled up our schedule and got us out of our rut and when we came home we all just felt BETTER.  (Even though there are no Lava Flows at home.)

Before going to the beach we were starting to feel a bit stabby.  Stabby about work, messy kitchen floors, hail damage and the insurance company to deal with, a sick baby, never-ending laundry...all of the soul-crushing things about daily life with a newborn that eat you up after a while if you can't seem to ever attend to them.

Then we hit the beach and left all of that 3,800 miles behind us.  And it was nice!  We had no responsibilities!  We had no schedule!  We just...existed as this happy little family full of smiles and giggles and joy with an endless supply of clean laundry.

It was so nice.

Now that we're home reality is setting back in.  All of the things that were problems when we left?  Yeah, they're still problems now that we're at home.

But Chris and I feel like we can talk honestly with ourselves about them now that we've given it some distance (you know, without all the hyperbole that "I HAVE NO SOCKS!  NO CLEAN SOOOOOOOOCKS!" brings at 630 in the morning). 

The excuse that we've been living on ("We have a baybeeee!  Life is supposed to be nutty and crazy and chaotic!") is wearing thin.  We have a six month old who is crawling and teething and sleeps through the night.  There's no reason to eat cereal for dinner three nights a week any more.  I miss hot meals.

We adored Claire's newborn days (and, truthfully I already miss the time when she would sleep for hours in my arms) but she's growing up fast and it's time for us to change our patterns to match hers.  We can't be a sleep-deprived and crazed family with no clean socks forever.  THANK GOD.

We have perspective on what are the really big deal items to us and we're definitely attacking them so we can get to a happier place day-to-day.  There's a definite feeling that this family has turned the proverbial corner toward something more functioning. 

There is life after baby.  It just takes a little while to get there.

First up:  Claire's sleep habits. 

I've known for a long time that she was ready to sleep through the night.  We just weren't ready or able to get her there.  She's been sick, I've been sick, Chris has been sick and plus I didn't want to push any big long-term changes before our trip.  I knew that the time change would negate any efforts we made on that front.

First night at home we went big:  Cry It Out.  And OH BOY did she cry.  She cried from 1 to 330 am.  We kept checking on her, holding her, reassuring her and...no.  She was furious and screaming.  Finally at 330 I gave up and fed her.  She ate for about thirty seconds and fell asleep until 8 am.

Second night we took magazines to bed to entertain us during the crying.  But Claire surprised us and only cried for 40 minutes at 1 am.  It wasn't even panicky crying - it was just sort of "wah-wah-I'm-bored" crying and she tumbled around in her crib and rolled this way and that and at some point she went back to sleep.  It was kind of amazing.

Third night she mumbled for a few minutes and went back to sleep. 

And on the fourth night she didn't wake up at all.  She crashed out for 11 hours.  She's done that every night since and tonight will be night 9.  I'm not sure if it's a new habit quite yet, but I'm hopeful.  VERY HOPEFUL. 

Second:  I give up on chores. 

I am literally going to grab a fistful of cash and throw it at the problem and pray fervently that solves it.  We're hiring a housecleaner as soon as humanly possible.

This is not a decision we came to lightly.  To me, it feels like a fat waste of money to pay someone for something that I'm perfectly capable of doing.  It's also not cheap (it will be a significant luxury as far as we're concerned) but one that is worth it.

It has become painfully obvious that I can't work, take care of Claire, take care of myself, take care of Chris (oh, come on, OF COURSE I have to take care of him too) and take care of my mommy/wifey household-type duties like grocery shopping and appointment keeping and keep this house clean. 

I just don't have the time or energy.  My house looks like I don't have the time or energy.  I hate that. I walk in the door and get instantly annoyed and it puts me in a bad mood for hours.

When I was pregnant, Chris and I talked about me going back to work and what it would mean with respect to our lifestyle.  Was it going to be worth it in time and money?  Or would it get crazy and out of control?  The only thing we knew is what we did not want our lives to become. 

We very specifically did not want to get be spending all of our free time on nights and weekends cleaning.  We did not want to spend our limited time together as a family doing chores rather than doing fun things together.

Surprise!  That's where we're at. 

Yesterday I actually announced at dinner that the Big Plan for after Claire went to bed was to clean the kitchen and mop the floors and Chris was going to help me.  It was a horrible way to spend the evening and we didn't even finish.  We got bored and quit after we loaded the dishwasher.

I called a list of recommended housecleaners the next morning.

***

Other than those Two Big Bothersome Things I have to say that life?  It is good.  REALLY GOOD. 

I found the beginnings of a very sharp tooth in Claire's mouth yesterday and she is now crawling.  Not too fast, but she can get places.  There is some major childproofing of the house that needs to happen but I haven't been able to get to that yet.  She's also eating pears, sweet potatoes and bananas and is not eating carrots, parsnips and squash. 

She weighs 16 and one half pounds and is 26 inches long.  She goes to bed at 7 and sleeps until 6 or 7 the next morning.  It's AWESOME.

She burbles and talks and when I pinch her sides she giggles these great big belly laughs that leave me in a puddle of my own melted heart.  We love her more than anything and I can't believe that we're lucky enough to call her our own.

I might not have a clean bathroom, but my baby sure is sweet.  (Am still hiring housecleaner though.)

Doesn't she look like she's about to bust out singing something from a musical?

"Ooooooooooklahoma! Where the wind comes rolling down the plains!"

Are you ready for some more working mom drama?

I've been back at work for 7 weeks.  It seems like such a long time.

Looking back at my posts right before and right after going back to the office I can't believe what a drama queen I was. 

Yes, this is a big deal.  Yes, it's this awful time management clusterfuck that I can never seem to win.  Yes, I miss my baby terribly during the day.  Yes, pumping is a giant pain and so is bottle washing.  Yes, I am sleeping even less because of some growth-spurt-regression and my refusal to just let her cry it out.  Yes, my house is a disaster most days. (All days.) Yes, OF COURSE I wish I could stay at home and eat bon-bons with Claire on the sofa.  (Because that's what SAHMs do, right?  Right?  Heh.)

But also?  I am kind of getting to a peaceful place with my new identity.  The haze is gradually clearing and I am starting to see the benefits of the Grand Trade I am making.

But dude, being a working mom is complicated.  SO FRICKING COMPLICATED. 

Let's put aside all of the high level stuff that falls under the broad category of Mommy Guilt. 

I can handle that.  (Well, eventually I can handle it.  Am still working on how to deal with my enormous rolling attache of Mommy Guilt that I tote to and from the office every day.) 

What is killing me is the day-to-day business of just managing to keep everyone fed and not tripping over Claire's toys in the living room.  Nothing beyond that - just keeping bellies full and the family uninjured are my priorities.  Anything beyond that (like, say, working out, laundry, writing thank you notes, organizing and sharing photos, returning phone calls, that all falls to the veeeeery back on my list) is simply beyond my capabilities.

For example, this is a typical work day:

430am - Claire wakes up.  Sometimes she is up for the day, sometimes she will go back to sleep for two hours.  Either way, she would like to eat at this time.

5 am - Claire is finished eating.  But I'm awake.  And Chris is awake now.  Let's say this is a day that Claire would like to NOT go back to sleep.  I'll play with her, make some oatmeal and coffee and play some more.  

530 am - Chris leaves for work.  (YES, he leaves godawful early.  But he also leaves the office at 2 pm.  Good trade.)

6 am - I put Claire in her crib to play with her reflection in her mirror while I take a shower. 

607 am  - It is not a long shower.  Claire demands my attention.  I cannot luxuriate in the hot water and steam and delicious smelling soap with someone wailing at me.

    (Incidentally, delightful smelling bath products are my new splurge of choice.  The Shower and Bath are things that I never really appreciated before becoming a Mom.  Now?  I see a Shower and Bath as Much Coveted Personal Time where I get to Be Alone and Close The Door for more than 5 minutes.  A steamy bubble bath with some pricey and yummy bubbles is quickly becoming my relaxation method of choice.)

610 am - Claire plays on the floor of the bathroom while I dry my hair, put on makeup and get dressed.  I never have anything to wear.  Claire has either barfed on a key wardrobe item that I wear frequently, barfed on something I wear infrequently, or everything is wet in the washing machine because we forgot to put things in the dryer last night.  I cobble together an "outfit" and swear that I will shop online sometime today at work.

Because I cannot keep walking out of the house looking like this.

630 am - Now it's time to get Claire dressed.  This is usually pretty fun since baby girl clothes are so damn cute. 

633 am - Claire yaks on her first outfit of the day.  We change her clothes to a secondary outfit.

635 am - Time to wrangle the baby into the car seat!  And put the 4 bags I need into the car (Laptop bag, her diaper bag, bottles, pump bag, purse).  It's too many bags, I know it, but I can't consolidate.  Claire is either happy in her car seat while I load them or royally pissed off.  There is no in-between.

7 am - We arrive at her day care school.  I check her in, pay fees (if it's Monday), put her bottles in the fridge, put blanket, burp rag, toy and bink in her crib, make small talk with her care providers, play with her a bit, say goodbye.

710 am - Head to my office.

715 - 730 am - I'm at my desk!  And I'm tired!  I go downstairs to the Starbucks in my building and get my second latte of the day.

745 am - I start my day at work.  Three hours after I got up. 

1130 am - I call to see how Claire is doing today.  She is always doing fine.  I always feel like a crazy Mom for calling.  I shop online a little bit.  I don't see anything I want to buy, even though I DESPERATELY need new clothes.  I figure I'll just find a new outfit somehow for tomorrow and not worry about it.

3 pm - I leave my office and go get Claire.

310 pm - I arrive and she is always happy to see me.  Make small talk again with her care providers.  Figure out how her day went.  Pack up all her bottles, blankies, etc.

315 pm - Put her in the car, grin at her and play for 30 seconds before we have to head home.  I always feel so dumb at this point of the day because I want to spend time with her, and technically I am, but she's in the backseat and I'm in the front...it's weird.

330 pm - OMG WE ARE FINALLY HOME.

330 - 5 pm - I snuggle with Claire and we play.  I nurse her.  We snuggle and play some more and I kiss her chubby neck a thousand times and exhale, "I missed you SO MUCH TODAY," into her dimpled cheek. Once a week we have to go to Wal-Mart during this time.  It always sucks but it's better than going on the weekend.

5 pm - Chris gets home.  (He runs some errands, goes to the gym after he leaves his desk.).  We get excited that Daddy is home.

530 pm - Hmm.  We are getting hungry.  Someone plays with the baby while someone else figures out dinner.

6 pm - Dinner is ready.  We eat it with Claire on someone's lap.  She tries to grab everything on the table.  It's funny to see how much better she gets every night at trying to yank things off the table.

6 - 730 pm - Play with the baby.  Give her a bath.  Put her in pajamas.  Play some more.  Read books.

730 - 8 pm - Sometime in here, Claire goes to sleep for the night.  She requires a bink and a few minutes of rocking and she's out.  We are constantly grateful for this one simple thing in our lives.

830 - Chris and I have time alone. 

OMG OMG OMG. TIME ALONE!  

But since we're so wiped out from our day all we want to do is veg out in front of the TV.  The idea of facing Jillian Michaels and my Shred DVD is impossible.  And, of course, it's dark outside and even though the gym is open until 11 there is NO WAY IN HELL I am going.

We usually elect to use this time drinking cocktails and watching DVR'd TV in our pajamas.  We think this is fabulous.  We do not do any dishes. 

Sometimes we get wild and crazy and put a load of laundry in the washing machine.  It will only get transferred to the dryer a few days later when we remember it or are missing clothes to wear.

Other nights we decide that we want to be really nerdy and do computer things.  I shop online, return emails, upload photos, blog.  He does...whatever it is he does.  Spending time with our laptops and not worrying about someone barfing on them feels highly indulgent these days.

1030 pm - Claire decides she would like to eat.  I feed her and she goes back down.  (We are working on dropping this feeding.  So far, not successful at all.  Any tips?)  Sometime in here, we decide that we would like to go to bed too.  We realize that we probably should have gone to bed an hour ago.

1030 pm - Except, OH CRAP, someone has to wash all the ten thousand bottle and pump parts so I can go to work tomorrow.  And this is the biggest whip ever.   And we are tired.  But we do it anyway.  And we hate it.  This week we finally learn that the dishwasher can handle the bottles and we just have to clean the smallish parts that don't fit in the basket.

We still hate it.

1050 pm - Shit.  What am I going to wear tomorrow?  Claire barfed on my frumpy cardigan of choice earlier tonight.  I decide that I'll worry about it in the morning.  Even after 7 weeks of this, I have yet to figure out that there is never ANYTHING TO WEAR IN THE MORNINGS.

230 am - Claire wakes to eat.

430 am  - It starts all over again.  Welcome to the next day.

And there you have it.  It's getting easier, and as she grows SHE is getting easier.  I know that it will not always be like this.

But sometimes?  In the middle of the night or in the mornings when there's nothing to wear and we have to get out of the house in ten minutes?  This feels like the hardest job I'll ever take on and I can feel the tears well up in my eyes.

(Note to Self:  IT IS.)

I love it and I hate it.  But I don't think I would have my life any other way.  This life is pretty damn good.

Why are Pants always so damn dramatic?

Tomorrow I will be the parent of a three-week-old baby.  YES.  I know.  It's true even though it seems impossible that it was that long ago I was being jabbed with a big needle in my back.  Twice.

Three weeks!  Where did the time go?  Where did October go?  Did you know that there is an election a week from today?  And that Christmas is, uh, going to happen in the very near future?  And after that it will be a WHOLE NEW YEAR and at that point I'll have to (gulp) go back to work?

This is just going waaaaay too fast.  At this rate I'll be buying her a prom dress next month.

Chris went back to work this week so Claire and I are on our own during the days for the first time.  While it's wonderful being at home with her and she definitely makes things easy, I'd be lying if I said I didn't already miss things like Other Adults, Intelligent Conversation, Accomplishing Complex Tasks, Starbucks and Being Uninterrupted For Hours. 

Yesterday I actually called my voicemail at work and listened to my Professional Self ask me to leave a message, just to remind myself that these things still wait for me in the future.

Ah, yes.  Being a mother is fulfilling and heart warming in a way I never thought possible but all of those other things people tell you are true too.  You really do consciously give up things for yourself in favor of things for her.

And you do it with enthusiasm and joy and wonder how you ever lived a full and happy life before she was in it.

**********

Save the projectile vomit incident, Claire continues to be The Perfect Baby.  She's easy to soothe, eats well, sleeps well and she's getting more social by the day - which is really exciting.  I think we're starting to see hints of real smiles and every time I spot what might be a hint of a dimple (just like Mama!) my heart melts all over again and I don't care that I've been wearing the same pajamas all day for a week.

Speaking of clothes, that situation has gotten a bit out of hand.  My whole pregnancy I got away with owning one denim skirt, one pair of jeans and a pair of shorts.  Thrifty and practical, no? 

The trouble is now that it's cold outside the only thing I can still wear without looking Weather Inappropriate are the jeans.  No surprise, I kind of hate those and they don't even fit properly.  Without the Big Baby Belly they don't even stay up on my waist (Yes!  I have a hint of a waist again!) and I'm constantly tugging them back up.

So I figured that maybe, just MAYBE, I should try out my old, pre-pregnancy pants.  Just to see.  You know, for fun?  After lugging around the Big Baby Belly for so long I've been feeling positively svelte with my post-partum belly.

BIG BIG BIG MISTAKE.  It hasn't even been three weeks.  What in the hell was I thinking?

It was, obviously, a moment fraught with emotion.  The damn pants wouldn't even go past my thighs. (Which is where I seem to have placed all of my "maternal fat stores."  Yeah, it's a real thing.  Look it up.)  Once I saw how distorted and wonky my lower half was compared to what it used to fit into I wasn't feeling svelte any more. 

I'll be venturing to the Palace of Cheap Pants (AKA Old Navy) this week to buy some pants in a size I don't care to acknowledge, because I just need some damn pants that fit.  I might even rip the tags out.

Big baby? What big baby?

This morning we had an ultrasound to get a more accurate look at how much the baby weighs.  The screen immediately showed that this child is pretty well crammed in there; not a lot of spare space.  We couldn’t see much of her at one time – a hand waving here, an ear there.  She said that she has lots of hair - which I wasn't surprised about since I had a ton when I was born too.

 

Doc took a few measurements – head, abdomen and femur – averaged them all together and came up with a stunning estimated weight of 6 pounds, 2 ounces and said that it could off by as much as a half pound in either direction.

 

Big difference from the 7.5 pounds she estimated last week, huh?  It was tough to keep a smirk from creeping onto my face.

 

She asked me what my plan was for “pain management” and I responded that my philosophy is to see how it goes and take things one step at a time and not sign up for anything in advance or make any firm decisions since anything could happen.  That said, I’ve done a lot of reading about breathing techniques and feel that I have a realistic expectations; I know this will be tough both mentally and physically .  But also?  I am a very stubborn lady and feel that should not be underestimated.  In a perfect world I would like to go medication free.  

But as much as I would like to go with no drugs, I am also no martyr.  Even though I know very well what the trade offs are, if I need pain medication I am not afraid to ask for it.  After all, I have no clue how I will react to this whole thing and I can’t predict what my tolerance level will be.  (Such as, how many hours of excruciating back labor can I take?  I have no idea.)  She thought this was a good plan. 

 

I asked her about what her availability is in upcoming weeks, since I know that they share call duty among 4 doctors.  I understand that doctors have personal lives and I certainly don’t expect her to come running at any hour whenever any of her patients goes into labor.  (Although I have to admit, that would be nice.)

 

She said that if I REALLY WANT her to be there I can always schedule an induction, which I politely declined.  (What is UP with trying to schedule an induction to keep things convenient?!)

 

She’s going to be available and on call often over the next three weeks but she will be on vacation 9/24 – 9/28.  My due date is 9/29.  ANNOYING. 

One of the doctors that she shares on call duty with is an OB I rejected because she was kind of blasé with her “Oh, about 30%” personal cesarean rate.  Seriously, she said it like she was ordering a chicken sandwich and didn’t seem to think it was high or there was any problem with it since “it matches the national rate.” 

 

I really hope she is not my doctor that day.  I will be so pissed if she walks in the room and will probably say something inappropriate like, "DO NOT LET HER NEAR ME!  She gives everyone a c-section!"

*Sigh.*  Yep, I'm ready for her to arrive any time now.

Since when is a big baby a big problem?

Today I had my 36-week appointment.  8 months down.  1 month to go. 

Everything was pretty routine.  I've gained a pound in the last week, bringing my total gain to something like 28 pounds.  (Respectable.)  My blood pressure was normal.  Baby's heartbeat is lovely at 138 bpm.

She checked baby's position (head down, excellent) and then took a guess as to her size.  She jostled my belly this way and that and made a face like she was concentrating.

"Well.  This is a pretty good size baby!  I would guess about seven or seven and a half pounds already!"

Now, keep in mind that this is nothing more than an educated guess.  She scheduled me for an ultrasound next week to "try and get a better estimate of size."  Both numbers are subject to a wide margin of error. At this point she should be growing by a half pound per week, so we're looking at possibly a 9.5 pound baby if we want to get really crazy with the numbers.

However, the internet is positively littered with stories of "My doctor told me my baby would be huge and she was just six pounds!"

Her next statement set off alarm bells.   She mentioned that if the baby keeps getting big we may want to look at an induction in the next two weeks because if she really is as big as they think it puts me at a higher risk of emergency c-section.

I produced a vague smile and said something like, "Uh-huh.  We'll talk about it later...."

**********

I will not be cowed into an induction to avoid the vague possibility/threat of a c-section that may or may not turn out to be necessary because my baby may or may not be "too big."

The trade just isn't worth it.  Inductions double a first-time mother’s risk of having a caesarean section.  (Which begs the question, what's the risk of a caesarean if you think she's too big versus the induction itself?)

And inductions are bad, bad, bad.  Yes, for some women who are post-date or have other complications the benefit of an induction certainly outweighs the risk.  I am open to being convinced otherwise, but I just don't think "the baby might be big" is a good reason to induce in my case. 

• Inductions are famous for producing more intense and longer contractions.  This can result in reduced blood flow and oxygen to the baby, requiring constant monitoring.  Continuous fetal monitoring has been associated with greater likelihood of c-section.

• More intense contractions lead to the more necessary use of pain medication.  Risks associated with pain meds commonly include slowed labor or poorly progressing labor - both reasons to perform a c-section if it's deemed the mother isn't making significant progress fast enough for everyone.

Of course, I have clear sight of the objective - safe mother and safe baby.  But I don't want to go through hell to get there.  I don't want to be induced and I don't want an epidural. 

Oh wait - are you surprised that I don't want an epidural?  Sure, it cuts the pain - for now.  The truth is that if I end up with a  caesarean I'm looking at WEEKS of pain in recovery from major abdominal surgery rather than the alternative of just a few hours. 

(And, don't forget that the c-section rate in this country is astronomically high - more than 29%! Just BEING in America makes it a real possibility for me.)

There are other complications caused by a large baby and those can be Very Bad and Scary too.  However, just guessing that "this baby is big" and using that as a reason for induction isn't an equitable trade of risk in my book.

Call me crazy, but I have no doubts about my ability to successfully deliver a large baby.  After all, I weighed about 8 pounds and my brother was nearly 10.  My mom and I are of similar size and shape - I tend to think that if she can do it then I can.

Mother Nature is pretty darn smart.  True Cephalopelvic Disproportion (the official term for "your baby is too big to fit through your pelvis") is rare. 

The thing is, I really do believe that one intervention leads to another and that once you start on that path it's difficult to get off.  I do think that some medical professionals are motivated by finance.  (Cesaerean births do cost more.)  I also think that some doctors practice defensive medicine.  That is, they make medical decisions based on the possibility of litigation.

And, I absolutely think that some physicians and the people they surround themselves with make decisions based on their convenience.

This is really the crux of the matter for me:  I am not interested in being convenient...for anyone.  I tend to see "maybe a big baby = induction" as an excuse for my doctor to deliver the baby on her schedule.

We'll see what happens at next week's appointment and take this whole thing day by day.

*Sigh*

Why must this be so complicated?

The upside?  We get to see the baby again next week!  Wa-hoo!

So this is what it feels like to share a computer with your husband. I don't think I like it.

For weeks Chris has been telling me that my laptop was about to bite the dust.  It had been making funny noises and emanating enough heat to keep a small room warm.  It's about 4 years old and I'll admit that I haven't taken the *best* care of it. 

He begged and pleaded with me to move my files to the server for safe keeping.  He didn't trust my laptop to keep a single bookmark in Firefox much less the thousands of photos I've been storing on it. 

Last week I moved every single file to the server.  THANK GOD FOR CHRIS AND HIS FORESIGHT.

On Wednesday the Blue Screen of Death (BSoD) graced my laptop no fewer than 5 times.  The damn thing wouldn't do anything except freak out and freeze.

I put this sticky note on it and handed it to Chris for an evaluation.

Diagnosis:  Hard drive is shot; all data unrecoverable. 

Time of death: 10:34 PM. 

There were no tears though - everything is backed up!  All of my precious photos and excel charts are safely stored on our server where they are happy, complete and accessible. 

Of course, there is the problem of "How does A'Dell use the internet at home now?"  For the past few days I have been sharing time with the husband on his computer.  It's become painfully clear that we are a household that requires a 1:1 ratio of working computers with internet access to people in the house.

I was online for about 20 minutes last night and it was not nearly enough to do all of my nightly internet chores such as reading blogs, catching up on celebrity gossip, shopping for things I maybe don't need, email, misc baby research and trolling for the delights of the internet that you only find when aimlessly surfing. 

There's so much delicious internet out there, 20 minutes a night is just not enough. NOT AT ALL.

All of you one computer households?  I don't know how you do it. 

In the interim I'm using the husband's laptop (which I've promised to use with the utmost care and consideration - no eating popsicles while surfing or anything like I used to do) until we figure out whether I'm getting a brand spanking NEW laptop (sounds exciting!) or if we'll just replace the hard drive on the old one (boring - but cheap).

Let this be a lesson to all of you though:  Back up your files!  Tonight!  You never know when the BSoD will get you - nobody is immune.

PS - Jake is getting better and we're not going back to the vet for a nose biopsy.  It looks like it WAS a bite of some sort.  Thanks to everyone for your phone calls, comments and emails. 

It just doesn't get any more glamorous than this

There's nothing that makes you feel like your life is really, really boring more than your gal-pal announcing that she's moving to London so her husband can work on awesome and trendy films while she totes her too-cute toddler around the city and makes new friends with accents.

(British accents!  I just looooove them.)

Of course, I'm thrilled for her.  Talk about a once-in-a-lifetime chance.  Maybe they'll even be there long enough for the inevitable fabulousness that is sure to be The Royal Wedding!!!  OMG, I CAN'T STAND IT.  I am officially sick with jealousy and bloated, travel-prohibiting belly. 

They couldn't possibly say no and feel happy about continuing to live in the suburbs with a 2-hour commute every day and neighbors who measure the grass in their front lawn and leave nasty notes if it's too high.  Bleh.  Now they can ride the tube and live somewhere chic and urban and exciting!  It's really the most amazing turn of events.

But at a time when I'm feeling a little, um, trapped in my current role as mommy-to-be I can't help but think, "BUT I WANT TO MOVE TO LONDON TOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

It's something like this:  I'm almost too-pregnant to travel, but not quite.  We could still take a big trip before the baby comes.  Hawaii!  Italy!  South America!  We still have time.

We are constantly talking about a trip we can take that will be affordable in both time and distance.  I want to go to Italy but I'm no fool - as I'm getting bigger I would be miserable walking around Italy for a week.  (Not to mention the whole "no wine" thing.  I'm still upset about that.)

But wow, London.  As I look out the kitchen window at my neighbor's home I can't help but think I would like him a whole lot more if he only had a British accent and stopped wearing wife beaters and sweatpants while he did yardwork without shoes on.  *Sigh.*

Surely the neighbors in London wear shoes with actual shirts and pants?

Super Tuesday! Get Excited!

Tomorrow is a Big Voting Day in America.  Are you going to vote tomorrow if you're in one of the 24 states holding a primary or caucus? 

I certainly hope so! It is your Civic Duty and God Given Right As An American and if you don't vote then, well, you're a moron who doesn't deserve anything our country offers and I feel that you need to pack it up and move to a country where the government cares about elections just as much as you do - like Zimbabwe. 

Oh, you'll just love "President" Mugabe.  He treats his citizens riiiiight.

Sadly, because I live in Texas I will be partaking in Super Tuesday as a spectator rather than an active participant. 

Oh wait - does yelling at the television when a pundit says something completely asinine count as active participation?  Well then, count me in!

Happy Super Tuesday everyone!

courtesy Natalie Dee (click to make bigger)

Oh Kenya...What have you done?

Several months ago I wrote about the year I spent in Nairobi with my family.  I remember consciously trying to focus on the good parts about living in a third-world country when I was writing.  I didn't want to dwell on the negative too much because it would have been far too easy.  I wanted to convey all of the wonderful things about living abroad and about Kenya - things that are wonderful despite its obvious problems.

Because if we're really being honest, living in a third world country isn't fun - for both expats and citizens.  There are very good reasons that the people in these countries experience great pain, sorrow and low quality of life - these are the very reasons their country is referred to as Third World.   

There's a lot I didn't mention, a lot that I edited out of the day-to-day living and experience.

I didn't tell you that at the top of the staircase in our home there were steel bars and a very stout door with bars and a strong lock.  It was our own private jail.  This was so that in the event that someone broke into the house, we could lock ourselves in upstairs and the intruder wouldn't be able to hurt us.  We were also advised to lock it nightly - just in case something happened while we were asleep.  We had a guard at the top of our driveway 24/7 and a very tall fence with barbed wire surrounding our home.

I also withheld that we were not allowed to drive anywhere without a radio that went directly to the security staff at the embassy.  If your car was to be overcome by a mob, if we were caught up in a riot (and there were frequent riots), if we got into a car accident and a mob of people tried to make us pay out on the spot for damages - we would have a means of contacting someone who could help us.  The police certainly couldn't be counted on.   

I didn't tell you that my choir teacher was killed one evening when she went to the movies with her friend and a man carjacked her vehicle.  He shot them both, threw her body into the street and drove away.

While navigating traffic through a roundabout, someone once reached through an slightly open window of our moving vehicle and stole the cap off my brother's head.  We didn't drive around with windows down much after that.  We wondered if we were lucky that he only wanted the cap. 

 

I purposely failed to mention the near-constant rioting over elections, corruption and various political snafus.  Along with it there was frequent police brutality and mob justice.  Think Mexican jail is bad?  You don't want to hear about Kenyan jail then.

I also didn't tell you that (perhaps most disturbing of all) in the months after I left, my physics teacher and his son were in a car accident. The details escape me, but they were not given priority medical attention for some time as a result of the disorderly handling of the wreck, complicated by the fact that they were Americans, but not diplomats, and the other car in the wreck was able to leave the scene on its own.  They were left at the scene, injured.  They eventually made it to a hospital, but my teacher did not survive.  He was an entirely wonderful human being and I can't help but think that if he had received immediate medical care that things might have turned out differently. 

What you also may have put together by now is that while I was failing pre-calculus in the spring of 1997 several terrorists were eyeing the building my father worked in, plotting ways to blow it up.  As it turned out, it was far too simple a task.

To be sure, terrible things happen all over the world.  Bad things happen to good people every day.  Moments of great injustice happen in my city, even in my tiny suburb!  There is no perfect nation, no utopia.  It was the frequency of these things in such a small geographical area that boggled my mind though. 

These are the things that were happening in Kenya ten years ago. It was a lifestyle of constant second-guessing and hyper awareness.  It wasn't safe.

It would seem that this is still true, only on a much more appalling scale this week.  Similar story; different year.

Adios Rat Year

2007 was the year of the rat and I have to admit that I'm happy to say "Adios Mo-Fo!"

Not that 2007 was terrible or full of doom and gloom.  No, 2007 was pretty all right. 

We traveled a lot in 2007 (some might argue too much based on my experiences with TSA).  I finally put up some window treatments in the living room - which totally transformed it by the way.  (I highly recommend window treatments folks.)

No, I am happy to say good-bye to 2007 because I've always liked new beginnings.  So, I present to you my goals (not resolutions) for 2008.

Keep up with the blogging more
I started this blog as a way to keep in touch with friends and family since I obviously can't call each of you every week and give you the skinny.  Lately I've been lax.  I'm trying to be better at finding nuggets of fun in each day.  Because besides giving me blog fodder, it helps me to find moments of hilarity in each day.  And that's just gotta be healthy.

Plan Meals
I had about six weeks in 2007 where I planned what we're going to eat each week, purchased the groceries and then actually made the meals.

I know, isn't that totally amazing that I did that for six whole weeks?   I would like to do more of that.  It's healthy, it's economical and mostly, it's healthy.  Healthy is good.

Minimize our Environmental Impact
I'm no tree hugger (heck, I support using dynamite to remove problem trees), but I know that I can do a lot more to, you know, be a democrat environmentally conscious person.

For starters I purchased some of these lovely bags to put my groceries and other purchased items in.  They roll up to a ridiculously tiny size to keep in my purse, they're totally cute and they have the added bonus of making me feel incredibly superior to everyone else at the store when I say "Can you please put the groceries in these bags?"

Another thing is that our recycle bin is currently in the back yard and full of rocks.  Yes, rocks. 

It's been that way since before I met Chris and I am not exactly sure how the recycle bin turned into "rock storage bin" but we're going to change that.  We will start recycling. 

I am aware that I'm about 20 years late to the party on that one but better late than never, right?  Besides the obvious benefits we will reap the added bonus of having less volume in the garbage bin which is always an issue at our house.  It's full every week and we have no idea why.  Only two people live here!

Also, I've replaced most of the bulbs in the house with compact fluorescents.  Any other ideas for me on simple ways to be a better human?  Because, uh, I might be out of ideas.

Own Less Stuff

We are by no means a pair of pack rats but I feel that we could stand to, ahem, thin out our belongings.

In a house with very little storage this has always been a problem.  We'll try to say goodbye sooner to some of our things and find them new homes.

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How about you?  Any interesting things you'd like to do in 2008?