Had a slightly earlier doctor's appointment this week (it's only been 11 days since my last appointment) because my OBGYN is heading out of town next week. In fact, she was wearing her scrubs when she came into the waiting room I was occupying and she told me she delivered four babies yesterday. That's four more babies than *I* delivered yesterday (thank goodness!). :)
So, New Baby's head is still down and will probably stay this way (this I know, but it's always nice to hear), and we went over "What to do, if..." scenarios, which I also kinda know but also still is very nice to have a refresher. Much of it involves drinking water and lying down and waiting for contractions to go away, unless they don't and then I call the number on the card, etc. etc. Said that if I have contractions for an hour, every 5 minutes, to call the office. Okay, says I. Let's just hope that doesn't happen.
We listened for her heartbeat...sounds good (ALWAYS sounds good when we can hear the heartbeat. I know I say that every time, but it's always reassuring, even with the movement, that the little ticker is being consistent and strong) and then she measured and she was like, "Hmmmm, you are measuring a little big, but we won't worry just yet because it's only 2 cm."
Oh dear.
I reminded her that with Miss O, I started measuring big towards the end and we had a scare that Miss O was over 10 lbs (eeps!). Gentle Reader, that little "eeps" doesn't do justice to my Freaked-outedness that I experienced with Miss O thinking she was over 10 lbs and growing. It turned out that I just had more amniotic fluid stashed in the ol' Womb Room, so that's why I was measuring big. But still....
So, I'm already starting to have chats with New Baby that we are NOT going to do this again and that she needs to stay under 10 lbs so as not to freak her mother out. That should do it, don't you think? A good pep talk? I thought so, too.
Also, while I was waiting for my very busy doctor, I was reading one of those Pregnancy Magazines and Ohhhhhhhhh my goodness, the guilt now if you plan to deliver in the hospital with pain meds and without a doula! What? No birthing tub? You are not a real laboring woman than. You are using all these crutches and will most likely have to have drastic surgery.
My, my how the pendulum swings.
When I was pregnant with Miss A a mere 6 years ago, it was totally the opposite. What? You are hiring a Doula? A what???? You're doing the hula???? Wait, what???? You are having a birth without pain meds??? What???? You are going to be in a tub???? What???? Won't that drown the baby???? Ugh.
I am a firm believer of the fact that women have successfully been having babies for millenias, and because of that, no one method works for everyone. So. You do what works best for you. In fact, after all these years (and I'm talking 38 of 'em, Gentle Reader), I thought my mom delivered all of us au natural. It turns out, after she gave me an incredulous, "Are you kidding?" that she only delivered my youngest brother (baby #4) without any medicine. Oh. Good to know.
So, do what feels right and what gets your little bundle of joy here in a satisfying and, most importantly, safe way--for both of you. That's my final good word on labor and delivery. That and, "Hey, New Baby. Let's keep it under 10 lbs."
Friday, June 27, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Yeah, so I should be taking a nap
...but instead I am posting like a crazy woman. I'll go nap in a second because I am, confessedly, FATIGUED. Super J got "The White Giant" (aka: his big ol' truck) this afternoon (hallelujah!) from the body shop, and they had it all washed and polished up. It looked very nice.
But I doubt it was as nice as "The Red Rocket" (aka: the red minivan...the girls named the vehicles, btw, but the names have totally stuck and that is what we refer to them by). Just before Super J came home to go pick up The White Giant, he took the Red Rocket (which he's been using this week) through the car wash and filled it up with gas and got the oil changed. Then, he came home, wiped down the insides and cleaned the windows and vacuumed the thing out--and even cleaned the carpets using our beloved Steam "I am a better mother because of this machine" Cleaner (which I had out anyway because I'd cleaned up a spot or two in our living room just this morning).
The Red Rocket looks and smells fantastic.
I helped out with the wiping down and vacuuming and carpet cleaning (as much as I could...bending over for extended periods of times is a real pain, literally), as did Miss O, and we worked up quite a little sweat. But Super J did the bulk of the work, and I really appreciate(d) all his efforts. Who KNEW how filthy that poor car had gotten. Yeeps. When I went to change the water after cleaning the little floor board carpets, it was nasty dirty black. Go ahead, say it with me: Ewwwwwww. Unsightly. And I think to myself, why do we not do this more often???? Because it is glorious to ride around in a car that is clean!
Anywhoooo, it totally reminded me of this Zima Production (why do so many alcohol based companies create such funny commercials?) and had to share.
So, thanks, Honey, for your labor of love. I LURVES me a clean car, and now I don't have to be jealous of Kristan's beautifully tidy minivan any more. :)
But I doubt it was as nice as "The Red Rocket" (aka: the red minivan...the girls named the vehicles, btw, but the names have totally stuck and that is what we refer to them by). Just before Super J came home to go pick up The White Giant, he took the Red Rocket (which he's been using this week) through the car wash and filled it up with gas and got the oil changed. Then, he came home, wiped down the insides and cleaned the windows and vacuumed the thing out--and even cleaned the carpets using our beloved Steam "I am a better mother because of this machine" Cleaner (which I had out anyway because I'd cleaned up a spot or two in our living room just this morning).
The Red Rocket looks and smells fantastic.
I helped out with the wiping down and vacuuming and carpet cleaning (as much as I could...bending over for extended periods of times is a real pain, literally), as did Miss O, and we worked up quite a little sweat. But Super J did the bulk of the work, and I really appreciate(d) all his efforts. Who KNEW how filthy that poor car had gotten. Yeeps. When I went to change the water after cleaning the little floor board carpets, it was nasty dirty black. Go ahead, say it with me: Ewwwwwww. Unsightly. And I think to myself, why do we not do this more often???? Because it is glorious to ride around in a car that is clean!
Anywhoooo, it totally reminded me of this Zima Production (why do so many alcohol based companies create such funny commercials?) and had to share.
So, thanks, Honey, for your labor of love. I LURVES me a clean car, and now I don't have to be jealous of Kristan's beautifully tidy minivan any more. :)
Teeheehee...
In this month's "Wondertime" magazine (which I love to read), it talks about kids and bathroom humor, and why they think it's so funny. Case in point:
click to make image bigger
Abilify...
So, as a follow-up to this morning's post to our better mental and emotional health, I had to find this commercial for the newest bipolar medication, Abilify. It sounds like this should help you become "able" again, right? Well, just listen to all the "great" things you have to watch out for. As Super J sarcastically noted last night (when we saw the original commercial, which obviously, doesn't point out how dangerous it can be...unfortunately, this was the only whole commercial segment I found), "I gotta get me some of that."
Isn't it soothing that, "Hundreds of Thousands of Patients have been prescribed" this medicine??? I guess that's how they know about all the "side-effects." Yeesh! It'd be funny if it wasn't so scary.
Isn't it soothing that, "Hundreds of Thousands of Patients have been prescribed" this medicine??? I guess that's how they know about all the "side-effects." Yeesh! It'd be funny if it wasn't so scary.
Closing the Pool Down...
Last night, whilst Super J mowed and trimmed the yards, I took the girls to the pool with the hope that Super J would be able to join us when he was done. We stayed, played predominantly in the 1 footer pool, pooped (well, Miss O did...luckily, once again, I noticed that she had assumed the position/I-am-pooping face and got her out of the water and made the appropriate changes), and then moved into "The Big Pool" with inner tubes. I'd finally decided that since it was very close to 9pm, I should probably get the girls home and was starting to get everyone toweled off and had given the 1 minute warning when Super J shows up...jogging.
Ohhhhhh, the celebration from the girls. The Shrieks of Glee!!!! You'd think that Daddy had brought the girls swimming. We were all thrilled he'd shown up (probably Miss O more than any of us because she was sitting in the middle of the 1 Footer Pool, splashing whenever I approached, and was NOT going to be coming out without a fight. Ugh.)
So, we stayed to swim...all of us in "The Big Pool," until about 9:30ish...thereabouts, and then headed home for normal bedtime routine. We were the last ones to leave, by the light of the pool lamps. It was kinda nice, like our own private pool (albeit a block from our home). Still, I think we all felt it was a great family outing, and I was particularly proud of myself because I was at the pool with my girls, in a swimsuit, and I do NOT look like Demi or Britany or any other Hollywood mom in her suit. It's one of the things I do like about myself...my willingness to be in public in a swimsuit massively pregnant.
ANYWHOOOOO. Well, Miss A and E slept GREAT through the night and didn't get up until around 8:30ish. They were seriously tuckered out. I mean, Super J will toss them around the pool and play tag and all these fun and gloriously damp games, while I am like, "Wear your inner tube thing and don't splash Mommy directly in the face, please, or we are going home!"
Miss O, on the other hand, woke up around 3 am...and again at 3:30. And then I woke up around 5:00 something to pee, after tossing and turning all night. And again at 7:00 this morning, when Miss O woke up for the morning. She is currently on the floor by my feet, as I type, crying for (seriously) I don't know why. She's eaten. She's got clean pants on (and is, in fact, the only one dressed in clothing besides pajamas). She's been cuddled, nose wiped, back rubbed, picked up and put down (repeat, lather, rinse). Seriously. Who knows. Well, I know she's tired because *I'M* tired (having gotten up with her these various times, but do you see ME on the floor, bellowing for all to hear? No. Although, it doesn't seem like a bad idea now and then, as long as I laid on my left side, right?)
So, that's our current situation. I wonder if we were at the pool too long? But we were only there for an hour and a half.
And now Miss O done crying and is off to play with a toy from McDonald's (a post in and of itself). Do you ever wonder if we all wouldn't be, seriously, a little healthier in the head and heart if we were able to express our emotions and just get them out? I mean, kids live in the present. Whether it is shouts of Pure Joy because they see their daddy arrive to swim with them (they aren't worried that they are making Mom feel bad. They are just thrilled to see Parent #2, the Glorious One, the "Good Cop," etc. etc) or the pitching of a mighty fit for truly unknown reasons besides emotional overload. They don't care that their nose runs in public or they fart at inopportune times or any of that. It just all comes out.
We call it growing up when we are able to control these emotions, because it makes others feel better around us...we are not emotional messes for other people to clean up. But would we, like Miss O, once we vented, not have to have others clean us up (besides getting us a tissue for a runny nose so you didn't catch us licking it off our lips. **Shudders!**). What would our world be like?
This is just something I've been thinking about and thought I'd share.
Ohhhhhh, the celebration from the girls. The Shrieks of Glee!!!! You'd think that Daddy had brought the girls swimming. We were all thrilled he'd shown up (probably Miss O more than any of us because she was sitting in the middle of the 1 Footer Pool, splashing whenever I approached, and was NOT going to be coming out without a fight. Ugh.)
So, we stayed to swim...all of us in "The Big Pool," until about 9:30ish...thereabouts, and then headed home for normal bedtime routine. We were the last ones to leave, by the light of the pool lamps. It was kinda nice, like our own private pool (albeit a block from our home). Still, I think we all felt it was a great family outing, and I was particularly proud of myself because I was at the pool with my girls, in a swimsuit, and I do NOT look like Demi or Britany or any other Hollywood mom in her suit. It's one of the things I do like about myself...my willingness to be in public in a swimsuit massively pregnant.
ANYWHOOOOO. Well, Miss A and E slept GREAT through the night and didn't get up until around 8:30ish. They were seriously tuckered out. I mean, Super J will toss them around the pool and play tag and all these fun and gloriously damp games, while I am like, "Wear your inner tube thing and don't splash Mommy directly in the face, please, or we are going home!"
Miss O, on the other hand, woke up around 3 am...and again at 3:30. And then I woke up around 5:00 something to pee, after tossing and turning all night. And again at 7:00 this morning, when Miss O woke up for the morning. She is currently on the floor by my feet, as I type, crying for (seriously) I don't know why. She's eaten. She's got clean pants on (and is, in fact, the only one dressed in clothing besides pajamas). She's been cuddled, nose wiped, back rubbed, picked up and put down (repeat, lather, rinse). Seriously. Who knows. Well, I know she's tired because *I'M* tired (having gotten up with her these various times, but do you see ME on the floor, bellowing for all to hear? No. Although, it doesn't seem like a bad idea now and then, as long as I laid on my left side, right?)
So, that's our current situation. I wonder if we were at the pool too long? But we were only there for an hour and a half.
And now Miss O done crying and is off to play with a toy from McDonald's (a post in and of itself). Do you ever wonder if we all wouldn't be, seriously, a little healthier in the head and heart if we were able to express our emotions and just get them out? I mean, kids live in the present. Whether it is shouts of Pure Joy because they see their daddy arrive to swim with them (they aren't worried that they are making Mom feel bad. They are just thrilled to see Parent #2, the Glorious One, the "Good Cop," etc. etc) or the pitching of a mighty fit for truly unknown reasons besides emotional overload. They don't care that their nose runs in public or they fart at inopportune times or any of that. It just all comes out.
We call it growing up when we are able to control these emotions, because it makes others feel better around us...we are not emotional messes for other people to clean up. But would we, like Miss O, once we vented, not have to have others clean us up (besides getting us a tissue for a runny nose so you didn't catch us licking it off our lips. **Shudders!**). What would our world be like?
This is just something I've been thinking about and thought I'd share.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Panera Bread...literally.
So, my friend Katie recently revealed that she has a thing for Panera Bread's yummy food. If I'd only known this when she was visiting, for I, too, adore it. Also, it's so hard to find a place where they have Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi, which I prefer to C.F.D.Coke, so it makes it EXTRA special to go and enjoy a little something from Panera. For example, my current favorite meal is their lovely LOVELY tomato, basil, mozzarella salad with a balsamic vinaigrette...ohhhhhhhhhh, delish!
Ahem.
So, just last weekend we enjoyed an Italian meal with some friends. I love to go to friends' houses to eat because, can I just say (once again), that when you don't have to make a meal, it ALWAYS ALWAYS seems to taste better than anything you could have created at home? Do you know what I mean? The baked mostacolli was soooo good! And Cryptic Jennifer brought over this...man, dare I call it succulent?...garlic bread. And where did she get the bread???? Panera. However I did not know this at the time. It was just this wonderful dense bread with crunchy (but not kill the inside of your mouth crunchy) crusty bread.
HOLY COW it was fabulous. In fact, later that evening, whilst others were munching on M&M's and other chocolaty/candy edibles, I myself went back for another lovely piece of crusty french bread, broiled to perfection with buttered garlic Parmesan toppings toasted to a golden brown. So good. Literally a little slice of heaven.
Why bring this up? Not to taunt you, Gentle Reader. I promise. PROMISE! But I bring this up to tell you of my craving for this bread, that I've had for days. And it really is a craving, because as of late I have had Heartburn from the HOT PLACE. OHhhhhhhhhhhh, the heartburn! I swear, New Baby is going to come out with a head full of hair or else I don't know what is going to happen! NEVER before have I had this heartburn. Oh merrrrrcy me.
But this afternoon, the craving overrode the potential Hotplace Heartburn and I called up Jennifer and asked where (oh where!) did she get her bread. Imagine my joy to discover: Panera! Imagine my sadness to find they were OUT of French Bread when I went to go get some. Argh.
Did that stop me from actually purchasing bread? Heck no. While in Panera Bread, bread must be bought...especially when they have Ciabatta, Sourdough and Asiago Cheese bread. And those, Gentle Reader, I have found, also make LOVELY garlic bread.
So, until I am able to procure some of that amazing French Bread (and one day, trust me, I shall), I have some other great tasting dense bread. Now if only I had thought to get me one of those TBMw/bv salads...with a new roll of tums. :)
Ahem.
So, just last weekend we enjoyed an Italian meal with some friends. I love to go to friends' houses to eat because, can I just say (once again), that when you don't have to make a meal, it ALWAYS ALWAYS seems to taste better than anything you could have created at home? Do you know what I mean? The baked mostacolli was soooo good! And Cryptic Jennifer brought over this...man, dare I call it succulent?...garlic bread. And where did she get the bread???? Panera. However I did not know this at the time. It was just this wonderful dense bread with crunchy (but not kill the inside of your mouth crunchy) crusty bread.
HOLY COW it was fabulous. In fact, later that evening, whilst others were munching on M&M's and other chocolaty/candy edibles, I myself went back for another lovely piece of crusty french bread, broiled to perfection with buttered garlic Parmesan toppings toasted to a golden brown. So good. Literally a little slice of heaven.
Why bring this up? Not to taunt you, Gentle Reader. I promise. PROMISE! But I bring this up to tell you of my craving for this bread, that I've had for days. And it really is a craving, because as of late I have had Heartburn from the HOT PLACE. OHhhhhhhhhhhh, the heartburn! I swear, New Baby is going to come out with a head full of hair or else I don't know what is going to happen! NEVER before have I had this heartburn. Oh merrrrrcy me.
But this afternoon, the craving overrode the potential Hotplace Heartburn and I called up Jennifer and asked where (oh where!) did she get her bread. Imagine my joy to discover: Panera! Imagine my sadness to find they were OUT of French Bread when I went to go get some. Argh.
Did that stop me from actually purchasing bread? Heck no. While in Panera Bread, bread must be bought...especially when they have Ciabatta, Sourdough and Asiago Cheese bread. And those, Gentle Reader, I have found, also make LOVELY garlic bread.
So, until I am able to procure some of that amazing French Bread (and one day, trust me, I shall), I have some other great tasting dense bread. Now if only I had thought to get me one of those TBMw/bv salads...with a new roll of tums. :)
Argh. That's what I have to say about this!
Okay...I have just completely deleted my morning's work on my blog, a post all about how I've been cleaning because the bug spray guy is coming and how ridiculous that is because, I'm 8.5 months pregnant and really don't want to be bending over and cleaning, for all people, the bug spray guy. Especially since yesterday I spent most of the day trying to stay off my feet because I was having more braxton hicks contractions than I normally do. But I did (clean) this morning because I feel compelled to PROVE that I do keep a cleanish/tidy home and that the ants that have invaded are, truly, uninvited guest and I don't want them in my house and it's not because I leave dirty dishes and food remnants out for them to feast upon, etc. etc. etc. (you can see where that was going) but in any case, whilst I am chagrined at myself for WHO I clean for, I have to admit, I LURVES me a clean house.
NEVERTHELESS!!!!!! All that had to go. Because I discovered something more important that MUST be discussed and recorded for posterity. I have discovered...a Hair. Growing out of...wait for it...my NOSE! And I'm not talking about unattractive nose hairs that come out of the nostril. That's it's own special slice of the hot-place, I'm sure. No, I'm talking about a blond sprout...atop of Ol' Smokey.
WHAT is THAT about??? Yes, yes, I know. It's the Hormones at work and stuff like that. But I thought literal hair on the nose only attacked men in their 80's, or witches with moles on their noses. I do not have a mole on my nose for a hair to grow out of, though I must confess I have days where I am a wee bit on the witchy side.
ARRGH! I have NO IDEA why I had a "guest" shall we say, RIGHT THERE.
And then, of course, when I noticed it and identified it (it's kind of like thinking, is that a gnat I see out of the corner of my eye), I went to get my tweezers and then had the dickens of a time trying to pull the darn thing out (mainly because, granted, it is smallish and blond and wiley! WILEY, I tell you. And it didn't want to come out and I had no room in my home with decent lighting in which to find it). But I prevailed! It is gone.
Except the memory of it...is burned (BURNED, I tell you) into my brain.
I think I am saddened by this because it once again emphasizes how whacked my hormones really are. Man, I need to get on some good birth control pills after this baby comes and I'm done nursing to balance this nonsense out. Gentle Reader, I'm so sorry to burden you with this. So sorry. This is probably WAAAAAAAAAAAAY too much information, but seriously. I do not want to be known as the woman with nose hairs...growing out of her nose. More to the point, growing out of the TOP of her nose.
Yegads.
NEVERTHELESS!!!!!! All that had to go. Because I discovered something more important that MUST be discussed and recorded for posterity. I have discovered...a Hair. Growing out of...wait for it...my NOSE! And I'm not talking about unattractive nose hairs that come out of the nostril. That's it's own special slice of the hot-place, I'm sure. No, I'm talking about a blond sprout...atop of Ol' Smokey.
WHAT is THAT about??? Yes, yes, I know. It's the Hormones at work and stuff like that. But I thought literal hair on the nose only attacked men in their 80's, or witches with moles on their noses. I do not have a mole on my nose for a hair to grow out of, though I must confess I have days where I am a wee bit on the witchy side.
ARRGH! I have NO IDEA why I had a "guest" shall we say, RIGHT THERE.
And then, of course, when I noticed it and identified it (it's kind of like thinking, is that a gnat I see out of the corner of my eye), I went to get my tweezers and then had the dickens of a time trying to pull the darn thing out (mainly because, granted, it is smallish and blond and wiley! WILEY, I tell you. And it didn't want to come out and I had no room in my home with decent lighting in which to find it). But I prevailed! It is gone.
Except the memory of it...is burned (BURNED, I tell you) into my brain.
I think I am saddened by this because it once again emphasizes how whacked my hormones really are. Man, I need to get on some good birth control pills after this baby comes and I'm done nursing to balance this nonsense out. Gentle Reader, I'm so sorry to burden you with this. So sorry. This is probably WAAAAAAAAAAAAY too much information, but seriously. I do not want to be known as the woman with nose hairs...growing out of her nose. More to the point, growing out of the TOP of her nose.
Yegads.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Feelin' the love
How to even start this?
Many a post here is about my wicked parenting skills (and not necessarily in that "Yo, Dude, your parenting skills are wicked!" vernacular), and frustrations with my offspring.
But I just have to tell you that this morning, I'm so in love with my girls. Not only are they beautiful, which I must say, they are, but they are so good and so smart and so sweet.
Case in point: the girls found our plastic Easter Egg collection. I'm not 100% sure where they discovered it, because it was technically hidden down in the basement, awaiting next years big hunt, but they found them and brought them upstairs and have been playing hide the plastic eggs for the last two days. In my current condition and (sadly) mood, I am not one to grouse when they discover a great game like this that enables me to not have to do much beside count their discoveries.
Well, they just came in to me with an egg that was half blue and half green. They proceed to be delighted at this and to inform me that this is truly a MAGIC egg because it is green and blue. And they are so sincere about this. I mean, SINCERE and HEARTFELT. Any moment, I expect the blue/green egg to morph into a fairy and start fluttering away, sprinkling magic dust in all our eyes. This is how sincere they are in presenting me with this egg.
And maybe a wee bit of that magic dust gets on me anyway, because I feel a full measured burst of love for these amazing creatures that have blessed my life with their willingness to be a part of mine. Wow, I love 'em.
I just wanted to share. Like I said, I often can share the frustrating stuff of parenting...but it's kinda nice to be able to share the really great and wonderful stuff, too.
Many a post here is about my wicked parenting skills (and not necessarily in that "Yo, Dude, your parenting skills are wicked!" vernacular), and frustrations with my offspring.
But I just have to tell you that this morning, I'm so in love with my girls. Not only are they beautiful, which I must say, they are, but they are so good and so smart and so sweet.
Case in point: the girls found our plastic Easter Egg collection. I'm not 100% sure where they discovered it, because it was technically hidden down in the basement, awaiting next years big hunt, but they found them and brought them upstairs and have been playing hide the plastic eggs for the last two days. In my current condition and (sadly) mood, I am not one to grouse when they discover a great game like this that enables me to not have to do much beside count their discoveries.
Well, they just came in to me with an egg that was half blue and half green. They proceed to be delighted at this and to inform me that this is truly a MAGIC egg because it is green and blue. And they are so sincere about this. I mean, SINCERE and HEARTFELT. Any moment, I expect the blue/green egg to morph into a fairy and start fluttering away, sprinkling magic dust in all our eyes. This is how sincere they are in presenting me with this egg.
And maybe a wee bit of that magic dust gets on me anyway, because I feel a full measured burst of love for these amazing creatures that have blessed my life with their willingness to be a part of mine. Wow, I love 'em.
I just wanted to share. Like I said, I often can share the frustrating stuff of parenting...but it's kinda nice to be able to share the really great and wonderful stuff, too.
Today's News: Look Both Ways?
So, as I've been reading my morning news, two stories strike me as very very ironic. The first is that McCain has proposed $300 Million for some individual/company to come up with an efficient/long lasting battery in which to run your car, thus producing a gas "sipping" (if even using gas) or zero emission car. Okay then. The second story is that an Austrian study is showing that low levels of Vitamin D (gained specifically from being out in the sun), is linked with increased mortality, specifically cardiac risks.
Here's the irony in my book.
In story #1, if we do indeed find a great electrically powered vehicle, which all the Greenies want (and I'm not necessarily opposed, I'm just saying), how are we going to produce enough energy for everyone who buys one? Oh! I failed to mention the $5000 tax break we as consumers will get for buying the car, in order to encourage us all to get said great electric car. So, we buy our cars that run on electricity and technically we plug them in "during the night" when supposedly "energy consumption will be lower" than during the day. But that assumption is based on how we use energy right now...it doesn't really factor in the fact that we'd all then be plugging in our cars at night! So then we need to bump up our energy production. But how do we do that? Many many many folks are freaked out by the idea of nuclear energy (which I think is probably a sensible alternative, realistically) and coal and other mined stuff will produce more emmissions. It just doesn't seem to make sense to me. Why not give $300 Million to someone to come up with a very feul efficient car (and let's be frank: a minivan option would rock) that runs 100+ mpg????? Now THAT might be helpful.
The second one is ironic to me because how often are we being preached at NOT to go out into the sunshine, and if we do, block ourselves with the highest sunblock we feel comfortable slathering on? In other words, you need to spend some time out in the sun to not die, but don't spend too much time in case you get skin cancer and stuff like that and end up dying. I guess I'll be sticking to the admonition of my OBGYN: Stay inside between 10-3pm.
It's stories like these that remind me that I love our planet and I love my life. I just really need to find some good ol' moderation in all things because not only are the extremes confusing and unhelpful, I'm not sure either do that much good.
Here's the irony in my book.
In story #1, if we do indeed find a great electrically powered vehicle, which all the Greenies want (and I'm not necessarily opposed, I'm just saying), how are we going to produce enough energy for everyone who buys one? Oh! I failed to mention the $5000 tax break we as consumers will get for buying the car, in order to encourage us all to get said great electric car. So, we buy our cars that run on electricity and technically we plug them in "during the night" when supposedly "energy consumption will be lower" than during the day. But that assumption is based on how we use energy right now...it doesn't really factor in the fact that we'd all then be plugging in our cars at night! So then we need to bump up our energy production. But how do we do that? Many many many folks are freaked out by the idea of nuclear energy (which I think is probably a sensible alternative, realistically) and coal and other mined stuff will produce more emmissions. It just doesn't seem to make sense to me. Why not give $300 Million to someone to come up with a very feul efficient car (and let's be frank: a minivan option would rock) that runs 100+ mpg????? Now THAT might be helpful.
The second one is ironic to me because how often are we being preached at NOT to go out into the sunshine, and if we do, block ourselves with the highest sunblock we feel comfortable slathering on? In other words, you need to spend some time out in the sun to not die, but don't spend too much time in case you get skin cancer and stuff like that and end up dying. I guess I'll be sticking to the admonition of my OBGYN: Stay inside between 10-3pm.
It's stories like these that remind me that I love our planet and I love my life. I just really need to find some good ol' moderation in all things because not only are the extremes confusing and unhelpful, I'm not sure either do that much good.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Foods that make me a better mom
So, sorry about my rant earlier this morning.
In efforts to be a happier better person who focuses on the blessings in her life while learning patience and empathy for others, I thought I'd focus on a few helpful things that we have been enjoying...alot. I'm immensely grateful for them, else who knows what we'd be eating...
We enjoy these for breakfast,
and found the best place to get them is at Costco. Granted, they do come in this huge box, so you must have room in the freezer for 60 waffles, but it's worth it (literally and figuratively) for us because we eat them so frequently... Almost every morning. Literally. I try to get my kids to eat cereal or eggs, but this is the most frequent request. And we've found that on Sunday mornings, when you are short on time, you can toast them, put a little butter on them and cut them up and put them into little sandwich bags and the kids can eat them in the car. Breakfast on the go at its finest.
Next, we have this fine option for snack time.
I must ask, is there a better snack than these? Well, actually, yes. Many many many other fine things are wonderful snacks. However, this one is a snack that all three of my girls agree upon and Miss A feels great about serving to one and all. That makes them quite wonderful in my book.
And finally, we arrive at dinner. Indeed, who couldn't use a little help in the kitchen? We seem to enjoy Tuna helper, especially.
**************************************************
And on the other hand completely, I'm glad I'm not the only one having "a day." The girls have been really really good today, I have to say, but we are having an emotional unraveling right now concerning a bunch of Barbies. Miss E is convinced that a certain Barbie is HERS. Alas, it is not. It is, in fact, Miss A's Barbie...complete with the very bad hair cut that Miss A gave her and learned the very difficult lesson that Barbie's hair does not grow back, even if you try to tape it. A very difficult (albeit hysterical when parents rehash it later in the evening when finally out of her presences) lesson to learn.
Gentle Reader, much like our Polly Pockets collection, we have several Barbies. Many of them reside in the au natural state for most of their plastic lives, but we have them. Hopefully, Miss A and E will work this out. It sounds like they are already. Whew.
Now, if only I could convince Miss O that even IF Mommy is on the computer, that is not the sign that she, too, gets to be on the computer. Hmmmmmm. It doesn't seem to be working, and Miss O has thrown herself onto the floor. Wow. That's a lot of crying and (let's not forget to add) LOUD screaming and overall pitching a fit for not getting to get on the computer. If only you were here to admire this level of indignation on Miss O's part. Just gotta say it again, "Wow."
Okay. Well, I guess it may be time to go start my Hamburger helper for dinner.
In efforts to be a happier better person who focuses on the blessings in her life while learning patience and empathy for others, I thought I'd focus on a few helpful things that we have been enjoying...alot. I'm immensely grateful for them, else who knows what we'd be eating...
We enjoy these for breakfast,
and found the best place to get them is at Costco. Granted, they do come in this huge box, so you must have room in the freezer for 60 waffles, but it's worth it (literally and figuratively) for us because we eat them so frequently... Almost every morning. Literally. I try to get my kids to eat cereal or eggs, but this is the most frequent request. And we've found that on Sunday mornings, when you are short on time, you can toast them, put a little butter on them and cut them up and put them into little sandwich bags and the kids can eat them in the car. Breakfast on the go at its finest.Next, we have this fine option for snack time.
I must ask, is there a better snack than these? Well, actually, yes. Many many many other fine things are wonderful snacks. However, this one is a snack that all three of my girls agree upon and Miss A feels great about serving to one and all. That makes them quite wonderful in my book.
And finally, we arrive at dinner. Indeed, who couldn't use a little help in the kitchen? We seem to enjoy Tuna helper, especially.**************************************************
And on the other hand completely, I'm glad I'm not the only one having "a day." The girls have been really really good today, I have to say, but we are having an emotional unraveling right now concerning a bunch of Barbies. Miss E is convinced that a certain Barbie is HERS. Alas, it is not. It is, in fact, Miss A's Barbie...complete with the very bad hair cut that Miss A gave her and learned the very difficult lesson that Barbie's hair does not grow back, even if you try to tape it. A very difficult (albeit hysterical when parents rehash it later in the evening when finally out of her presences) lesson to learn.
Gentle Reader, much like our Polly Pockets collection, we have several Barbies. Many of them reside in the au natural state for most of their plastic lives, but we have them. Hopefully, Miss A and E will work this out. It sounds like they are already. Whew.
Now, if only I could convince Miss O that even IF Mommy is on the computer, that is not the sign that she, too, gets to be on the computer. Hmmmmmm. It doesn't seem to be working, and Miss O has thrown herself onto the floor. Wow. That's a lot of crying and (let's not forget to add) LOUD screaming and overall pitching a fit for not getting to get on the computer. If only you were here to admire this level of indignation on Miss O's part. Just gotta say it again, "Wow."
Okay. Well, I guess it may be time to go start my Hamburger helper for dinner.
Some Happenings Here at the Zoo
This morning, I've gotten the dishwasher locked and loaded and running; have got a load of laundry done; kids are fed and dressed and currently coloring and have chucked out about 3/4 a gallon of milk that had begun to spoil...but not before serving it to the kiddos for breakfast. Nothing like having Miss A tell me how gross the milk tastes for me to spring into action and then start wondering if it tasted gross last night when Miss O was chugging it down before her bedtime. Let's hope not.
Super J's truck is currently in the shop being repaired. Did I ever tell you, Gentle Reader, about him damaging the passenger side of his work truck whilst at a service project for our church? Yep. He did. About (between you and me) $1600 worth of damage. Bless his heart. Thank goodness for insurance. SO, I bring this up because he currently has the Red Rocket (aka: my minivan). I feel strangely claustrophobic without it, and also strangely relieved that I cannot go anywhere and that it's not simply because I am a lump. Weird.
Speaking of my lump like condition and the consequences of it: Yeah, so I've been debating about how much (if anything) to blog about my meeting yesterday with one of the counselors and, briefly, even the bishop himself about the ol' Primary Music Chorister thing. I mean, I kinda want to record it for posterity, so that when I'm faced with a similar situation, I can reflect back to this and think, "You were a faithless wretch and had you an ounce of patience, you'd see how wonderfully all this works out for everyone" OR "Indeed! I knew it! There was a conspiracy against pregnant/lactating women! Argh!"
So, in very very briefest form (and because I'm trying to NOT be a faithless wretch), when we last left off, I and the Primary Pres were both in total agreement for finding someone permanent, but both thought a visit from me to re-emphasize that I have 6 weeks left before my little one would help encourage the speed in which a replacement could be found. So, I had the meeting. It was...odd (not sure that's the best description, but for one word, it'll have to do) and not quite what I was expecting, but they tried to be sympathetic and I tried to be honest and now feel that at least I did my part and now must wait to see what happens. It'll work out, one way or another. It always does. One way or another.
You know, I'm trying to analyze myself as to WHY this bugs me so much. Because seriously, I know on some level I'm being ridiculous about this. Probably after the birth of my daughter, a few months later I'll be so gung ho to help out with ANYTHING, I'll be completely opposite and will have to be branded with a red H that I'll have to wear to church for a year, standing for "Hypocrite!". Until then, however, I need to keep in mind: it could be worse.
A friend who reads my blog wrote in the comments about how she went through 2 pregnancies and childbirths while she served 4 years as Primary Pres and when she finally approached the Bishop about it, he said that, "Well, lots of women have babies when they are in leadership positions." Argh. I am gobsmacked by that. And this is where I get angry. Because technically, as I've espoused before, this "motherhood" thing is supposed to be the highest and noblest calling. But it's definitely not treated that way. Nope. Women in the church seem to only be given maternity leave and then these great "growth opportunities" where the woman must then come to terms with it and manage it somehow while fulfilling her calling. CLEARLY it bugs me. Probably even more so because I really took Pres. M. Russell Ballard's most recent General Conference talk "Daughters of God" to heart about being a mother (and let's not even start quoting from the most recent Worldwide Leadership Training session). I mean, I'm not a young mother, but I am a mother of young children. And I think pregnant/lactating women should be considered with this question he posed:
Oholycow. I read this over and I realize how irrational I sound. I know this. But I am so unhappy about how this is going down and the stories other women tell me about what happened to them during their child birthing years. It's the only time in all of eternity that we can be with our children while they are this young, so I guess that's why there is such incredible opposition. But why hasn't this bothered me before? With all my other children? I dunno. I just never felt this strongly about it. So, clearly it's because I'm supposed to learn something from this. And when I do, Gentle Reader, trust me...I'll be telling you all about it.
Super J's truck is currently in the shop being repaired. Did I ever tell you, Gentle Reader, about him damaging the passenger side of his work truck whilst at a service project for our church? Yep. He did. About (between you and me) $1600 worth of damage. Bless his heart. Thank goodness for insurance. SO, I bring this up because he currently has the Red Rocket (aka: my minivan). I feel strangely claustrophobic without it, and also strangely relieved that I cannot go anywhere and that it's not simply because I am a lump. Weird.
Speaking of my lump like condition and the consequences of it: Yeah, so I've been debating about how much (if anything) to blog about my meeting yesterday with one of the counselors and, briefly, even the bishop himself about the ol' Primary Music Chorister thing. I mean, I kinda want to record it for posterity, so that when I'm faced with a similar situation, I can reflect back to this and think, "You were a faithless wretch and had you an ounce of patience, you'd see how wonderfully all this works out for everyone" OR "Indeed! I knew it! There was a conspiracy against pregnant/lactating women! Argh!"
So, in very very briefest form (and because I'm trying to NOT be a faithless wretch), when we last left off, I and the Primary Pres were both in total agreement for finding someone permanent, but both thought a visit from me to re-emphasize that I have 6 weeks left before my little one would help encourage the speed in which a replacement could be found. So, I had the meeting. It was...odd (not sure that's the best description, but for one word, it'll have to do) and not quite what I was expecting, but they tried to be sympathetic and I tried to be honest and now feel that at least I did my part and now must wait to see what happens. It'll work out, one way or another. It always does. One way or another.
You know, I'm trying to analyze myself as to WHY this bugs me so much. Because seriously, I know on some level I'm being ridiculous about this. Probably after the birth of my daughter, a few months later I'll be so gung ho to help out with ANYTHING, I'll be completely opposite and will have to be branded with a red H that I'll have to wear to church for a year, standing for "Hypocrite!". Until then, however, I need to keep in mind: it could be worse.
A friend who reads my blog wrote in the comments about how she went through 2 pregnancies and childbirths while she served 4 years as Primary Pres and when she finally approached the Bishop about it, he said that, "Well, lots of women have babies when they are in leadership positions." Argh. I am gobsmacked by that. And this is where I get angry. Because technically, as I've espoused before, this "motherhood" thing is supposed to be the highest and noblest calling. But it's definitely not treated that way. Nope. Women in the church seem to only be given maternity leave and then these great "growth opportunities" where the woman must then come to terms with it and manage it somehow while fulfilling her calling. CLEARLY it bugs me. Probably even more so because I really took Pres. M. Russell Ballard's most recent General Conference talk "Daughters of God" to heart about being a mother (and let's not even start quoting from the most recent Worldwide Leadership Training session). I mean, I'm not a young mother, but I am a mother of young children. And I think pregnant/lactating women should be considered with this question he posed:
The last question: What can the Church do?
There are many things the Church offers to mothers and families, but for my purpose today may I suggest that the bishopric and the ward council members be especially watchful and considerate of the time and resource demands on young mothers and their families. Know them and be wise in what you ask them to do at this time in their lives. Alma’s counsel to his son Helaman applies to us today: “Behold I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass” (Alma 37:6).
Oholycow. I read this over and I realize how irrational I sound. I know this. But I am so unhappy about how this is going down and the stories other women tell me about what happened to them during their child birthing years. It's the only time in all of eternity that we can be with our children while they are this young, so I guess that's why there is such incredible opposition. But why hasn't this bothered me before? With all my other children? I dunno. I just never felt this strongly about it. So, clearly it's because I'm supposed to learn something from this. And when I do, Gentle Reader, trust me...I'll be telling you all about it.
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