Julia

Untitled (Now With Content)

This football pool (which I would have WON last week, flat-out WON, if the total points for the Monday Night Game had been 44 or less - they totaled 45 after that stupid interception; oh the agony) might be ruining football for me. Every week I find myself needing people I loathe (yes, you know I am looking at you, Madam I-won't-get drafted-by-the-Chargers) to win. At one point I found myself cheering for Dallas. Dallas! Sworn enemies of my girlhood team.   

.... So I was sitting here late yesterday afternoon and Steve realized he needed to go to Home Depot for one little thing. Patrick, of course, went with him as good apprentices do. I finished the lasagne and put it in the oven and thought I would start a post. Which I did. For about five seconds. And then they came home and Patrick wanted to use my computer and I thought I had saved the mini-start as a draft but it appears I posted it. Prematurely. How embarrassing.

Redskins, by the way, are the team of my youth. I grew up in DC, although it occurs to me that Dallas really does have more than a few sworn enemies. I suspect our particular rivalry is actually based on something as appalling as the perceived cutesiness of cowboys against Indians- ho ho ho, genocide - but what can you do. Tony Romo seems like a nice enough young man and I always liked that Emmitt Smith but it's DALLAS. There I was urging DALLAS onward with both word and gesture. I feel dirty. This week I have picked so many upsets that I do not stand a chance - or I will dominate with such authority that I will not be victimized again by the fickle hand of the point spread. Either way. Go Bengals.

Say what you will about Steve (and god knows I have said it, although my more thoughtful readers no doubt recognize that my passion for the man borders on an unhealthy form of adoration) but when he starts a project he finishes it. Neither rain nor snow nor sleet nor threat of electrocution nor reasonable bedtimes can deter him in his self-appointed rounds. Remember that time he was slicing a tomato and the front of the dishwasher suddenly fell off and pinned my leg three feet away from him but despite my piteous cries for help he had to finish slicing the rest of the tomato before he could come to my assistance? Well that single-mindedness is getting the babies' rooms done in record time. The light switches now address the lighting needs of the actual room in which they can be found (I am STILL laughing about that. I need to get out more). Outlets have been added to the new walls in compliance with Code (when I point out that x or y seems like an unnecessary step and let's just paint! I like the part when we paint - Steve inevitably gets all lofty and starts talking about "Code"). Steve and Patrick are putting up the last of the drywall as we speak (Patrick wears a Little Tykes hardhat that he unearthed from god knows where and work gloves and he gets to pick up scraps and throw them away). The guy who does the taping and mudding and sanding starts tomorrow and then we paint. Ta da. I am very pleased.

Although we (knock wood) have a long time before the 13s arrive and an even longer time before they will be anywhere other than our room I was starting to get itchy to have the new spaces done. I.. I think it is fun. Patrick and I shopped for wall clings online yesterday and decided that the whosits will have letters and numbers around the perimeter of their rooms (a theme! an alphabet theme! go figure) and Patrick will be treating himself to a wickedly nice set of planets (Saturn alone measures 3 feet across). As long as we are painting I thought it was only fair that Patrick should get to do something with his room too, if he likes. So he is trying to decide on a color and we bought him a new dresser yesterday. He had generously offered his dresser (it has a top designed for a changing pad) to the cause so he needed one. I am fully prepared to have Patrick be less enchanted with them once they show up and start needing attention but I love how excited and accommodating he is right now. He wants the babies to have all of his old clothes and blankets and toys and furniture. He has started writing a new book (his last one, titled "When the Sun Dies", is a gripping piece that examines without sentiment his theory as to what will happen in the solar system when our sun goes supernova, has gone into production; in other words I stapled the pages together for him while he hovered anxiously and told me not to rearrange the sheets) for the babies that he told me we will need to put in a safe place so he can read it to them later. He has said that one of his jobs can be helping them fall asleep, perhaps by singing to them. He has offered to get up with them if they need anything in the night. I finally told him that I love how excited he is and anything he wants to do to help will be great, but I don't want him to stress about it. After all, this was Steve and my idea - his responsibilities are negligible as best.

He is convinced, CONVINCED, by the way, that we are having a boy and girl. He thinks B is the boy and A is the girl and that is that. He claims I told him this was true and refuses to believe me when I insist I did not. We'll see.

[I had a couple paragraphs up about Patrick and school but I have decided to take it down for now. I probably did not explain myself very well because the comments seem to be veering into realms that are making me both annoyed and defensive. Since I generally welcome comments that challenge my perspective on things - it is how I evolve - I am taking my reaction as a sign that I really don't feel like going into it right now. I should have left it alone in the first place.

The short version is Patrick does not seem particularly happy with school so far and I don't know why. I suspect it has to do with what they are learning so far (or not) but it could be a billion other things. It might just be normal transitional stuff and will all work itself out. I don't know. So thanks for the thoughts and I'll get back to it when I am feeling less... something.]         

PS Julie made me the nifty widget on the right. It links (when the REDBOOK site is working properly) to my recent posts over there. She is so clever. And on an additional administrative note I took my archives down a while ago but I am working on putting them back up again. I know how annoying it is when you want to go back and, say, compare an hcg level (I know someone sent an email asking about this specifically but I can no longer find the email) and you cannot. So I am tidying them a bit but I will have them up again when I can.   

One Hand

I had a leg cramp at five o'clock this morning that was so horrible I was actually able to see the fourth dimension. Google tells me that the proper thing to do is reach down and pull your toes up, which is all good and well but I can't reach my toes under the best of circumstances. From a sound sleep, lying on my back, with 2.5 lbs of babies in the way it is absolutely impossible. And no, I do not actually sleep on my back I sleep on my side but I wound up on my back when I was flattened by the pain. As a side note, I cannot help but notice that whenever I wake up in the wee hours the babies are moving around like crazy. Well 13a, mainly. Who knows what b does. It appears that they sleep most of the day and are up all night. Great. Little teenagers.

I cannot quite place my concern about Patrick's school, to return to what I was saying in passing on Friday. It is a nice school. They stress community and personal responsibility and other positive things. Patrick seems to be happy enough. I know that they spent the first few weeks getting kids adjusted to the space and the routine and that they are only starting to do assessments this week. I know that he has a couple of friends that he really likes. His only consistent complaint is that he says he is there for too long. Since right now his day lasts from 9:15 until 12:20 but he will be going until 3:45 (THREE! FORTY! FIVE! is it me, or is that a REALLY long day?) when he transitions to full day, I am not sure what to do about that. Is it long because he is bored or because he would rather be home with me or is it just something to complain about? I have pointed out that when he goes full day he will start taking Spanish in the afternoons (in theory this should be a big draw), but he countered by saying he would rather take French. I explained that they only teach Spanish and he said, "What about German?" I think he is just being difficult because honestly - GERMAN? Since when is he interested in German.

Steve got the wall up and we now have two new rooms for the babies or guests or baby guests. Well, sort of. The drywall is up on one side. It is still pending in the other because... every time I think about this I giggle. Steve committed a small gaffe as he pulled the electricity for the new rooms and now when you flick the switch in room A nothing happens in there. Because you are turning the lights on and off in room B. The switch goes to the wrong room. See how wicked I am? I am cracking up just writing about it. Whoops! So Steve needs to do whatever it is that needs to be done so that the lights are not inexplicably flickering in one bedroom, and then he will put the drywall up and then there is talk of doors and wood trim. Patrick would like to paint the rooms red and purple, which I approve of in theory but doubt I will actually go for in practice. I am actually thinking a nice cream color in both or, should we all get a little high on the paint store fumes, a very light mushroom. Then I need to buy another crib and two more dressers and... I don't remember. Some other stuff. I made a list but I cannot find it. Car seat! That was on it. 

New REDBOOK post up about my latest OB appointment and ultrasound, should you care to read it.

I am actually LIMPING, my leg is still so sore from that Charley Horse. Steve and Patrick seem to be momentarily occupied so I think I will go soak it in the bathtub. And if I happen to lock the door and bring my book with me, well, all the better. 

7/100 Of Ten Red Dinosaurs

That was extremely helpful, thank you.

It really does help to know that there is a possibility that my conviction at 4 am the other night that what I really needed to do was get in the car and drive and drive until I got to Spokane whereupon I would get a waitressing job or something was at least partially derived from mere imbalances as opposed to complete disintegration. Like, I am happy to hear that when you ate insanity peppers you also conversed with the talking coyote. Reassurance in numbers. Besides, I got to read your comments to Steve and say, "See? SEE?" over and over again, which is something we both enjoy.

So I stopped the Reglan and I announced that I would no longer be dealing with the things that are currently stressing me out and I got a few nights of half-way decent sleep and I am leaving in about thirty minutes to go see my OB who will tell me what to do about the fact that I don't want to eat anything. 

I went to the opening ceremony for Patrick's school today, an assembly that involved the new students and kindergartners walking through arches while the rest of the school sang. Good grief it was cute. Patrick got assigned a reading buddy from the second-third grades last week and I think his reading buddy was one of the kids who got up at the assembly to share their hopes and dreams for the year. My own hope and dream is that this kid is, in fact, Patrick's assigned literacy pal because he said that his goal for the year was to "work on his mastery of the sciences". This is the kind of reading buddy Patrick needs. As I drove him to school today Patrick asked if he was ever going to learn anything in school that he does not already know. I thought this was sort of discouraging but reminded him that they are still getting to know everyone and that it takes time for the teachers to figure out challenges for each kid. Patrick suggested that he does not have to use the math tools anymore (I think he is a little sick of picking ten red dinosaurs out of the jar) because he already knows it all and I told him he has so much more to learn about math it is not even funny. HOWEVER, I said that I thought it would be ok for him to ask his teacher for something harder to do when he really feels that he knows what they are working on already. I reminded him he needs to show his teacher what he knows, he can't just not do something, but that I bet she will be willing to help him find something he is more interested in if he asks her.

"Like fractions?" he asked and I said, "Maybe".

Patrick and I have talked a lot over the past month or so about how kids are all good at lots of different things. About how some kids have spent a long time becoming really good dancers or really good at sports but that everything takes work and practice. So that there may be kids in his class who do not know how to read because they were spending their time learning how to be great at other things. And that the teacher does not know who is good at what yet, so in order to find out what they still need to learn she will need to ask. SO (and this was my point) when somebody asks him if he can find the letter P on something they are REALLY not making fun of him or on the verge of a punchline. They are just asking if he knows. Also, if he ever thinks it is funny that someone else is still learning the alphabet he should remember all of the things that he is still learning to do - many of which this other kid probably is really good at already - so pipe down or I will smite him.      

Not that Patrick is inclined to be that way, but he is kinda starting to bust out with the fiveness and I thought it was important to check any potential snootiness right now. Lest he forget, he is the one who is still refusing to pee at school (another issue altogether and one that I will address after my appointment. which is right now. so bye.)

PS I admit that I am currently a little uncertain about the school we have chosen but I am willing myself to back the fuck down and give things a few more weeks to settle. We'll see.

PPS I hope I get an ultrasound.

PPPS New REDBOOK post up.

Insomnia

I have been having a very difficult few days. So difficult, in fact, that Steve is refraining from using terms like "psychotic episode" but is fairly free with the words "unbalanced" and "compromised stability". I have never claimed to be the model of mental health (see: propensity to throw things when angered) but this is... well, this is insane. I have no idea what is going on with me and I hope it ends soon. It is six in the morning (did you know how dark it is out here even at that hour? morning barely breaks by seven) and I have been unable to sleep since some time after four. Yesterday I woke up at three fucking thirty and never slept again. By eight I was so tired I was throwing up (quite literally) but every time I tried to fall back asleep my mind started racing. I have some sort of a rash on my cheeks (the skin on the cheekbones is vaguely itchy and bright red; I cannot decide if it is an allergic reaction or hormones or both - mask of pregnancy or masque of Aveda). I have cried more in the past three days than I have in the past three years combined. I spent an hour last night, at least, thinking about THIS THING Steve said two days ago that I sort of missed at the time but that I have now concluded was really unfair.

On the positive side I think I am feeling a little better. I must be or I would not be writing this. Or rather, I might be writing this but if I felt as terrible today as I did yesterday it would read: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I CAN'T SLEEP I AM SO TIRED OH MY GOD, followed by illegible wet blubbering. At some point in the wee hours last night I googled Reglan and discovered that in rare instances it can lead to severe anxiety and depression. Although I am not usually one to embrace the fine print, I am hoping that my current state is just drug induced. I have made a point of taking the Reglan more regularly over the past few weeks because the lingering nausea has been making it hard for me to eat and the weight gain is still iffy. It's weird - when I was face down over the toilet I would occasionally think bitterly of women I have known who would earn my solidarity by saying, "Oh YES the morning sickness is AWFUL" only to lose it an instant later by concluding, "Of course, I haven't actually thrown up yet but I feel ever so queasy." I admit that my pity at the time was limited but having now moved past vomiting (usually) into the theoretically more pleasant realm of appetite crippling nausea I can see what they were talking about. Anyway, I was taking the Reglan with military precision but I now suspect it is making me crazy. So I have stopped it. Fortunately I have an appointment with my OB on Friday so I will talk to an actual doctor about all this then. Provided, of course, I am able to start sleeping again. If not I... well I have no idea what I will do.

The babies are fine. I think. 13a is fine insofaras (that cannot be one word, can it? but I like how it looks. it reminds me of an amalgamation between Innisfree and sassafras - two fine words in their own right) kicking and rolling can be interpreted as signs of robust fetal health. 13b puts in an infrequent appearance - I think. I attribute everything left of the belly button to b and everything right to a, but I have no idea if that is correct or not.    

... well i need to use mommy`s computer

Patrick has been sitting on my lap for ten minutes patiently waiting for his turn. I will be back later. Oh rats. Dentist appointment this morning. Ummm, later than later but still, I'll be back. Anyone have any trouble with Reglan? Or maybe this is just pregnancy related?

Patrick is insisting I sign off like this:

Love, Julia            

(I am such a sucker for this child)

PS I have a new post (or two. three maybe since last I wrote) up at REDBOOK. Most recently I started obsessing about finding out the sex of the babies. Of course, this was last night when I was also fixated on my split-ends.

Creek

Kindergarten seems to have kicked Patrick's ass. It is nine o'clock Sunday morning and Patrick is still asleep. Yesterday he slept until 8:40. Since Steve is gone and I enjoy sleeping past eight the same way many life forms enjoy oxygen I have to say I am very pleased by his exhaustion. Although now that I am sitting here drinking tea, I recall that Patrick did wake me up at 4:30 last night for some reason. Oh right. He had to pee and he does not view this as a solitary activity. No man is an island, and all that.

For the first six months of potty training (yes! FIRST six months! it was a process, I tell you) Patrick would come to find me or Steve and we would have to go with him into the bathroom for moral support; then he progressed to going alone but yelling out the play-by-play like "I have to go pee! I need to go to the bathroom! I am going! I am peeing! I am done peeing!" Now he just says "Gotta pee!" before skipping off. However, on the rare instances when he wakes up in the middle of the night (I can think of only a few) he still requires an audience. I talked to him about the fact that he can just wake up and pee and then go back to bed all by his little self and he told me it was too dark in his room to see the door. This is true, actually. It is amazing how dark a house can get in the woods with no streetlights or neighbors. So I got him a night light and then put another night light in the bathroom and I walked him through it and he said "OK" and then... he woke me up at four in the morning. He went right back to sleep but it took me awhile to get comfortable again. It didn't help that our neurotic cat (ummm, Neurotic Cat #2, not the one who lives in the closet but the one who chews things and cries when no one is rubbing his ears or telling him how beautiful he is - the one my mother refers to as Marilyn Monroe) was feeling lonely and neglected and desperate and just wanted to TALK. He kept walking across my face and gnawing on my water bottle, which somehow caused me to start thinking about flu pandemics and then I really couldn't sleep.         

Good grief, where was I? Oh right, it is now hours later and at least Patrick slept in and Steve will be home soon. It is an absolutely beautiful day here but I am contracting like hell for some reason and just feeling up-to-here with uninterrupted mommy-Patrick bonding time, so I was a jerk and pretended it was thirty-four degrees outside and raining. This justified doing a puzzle with Patrick while I had football on in the background. Oh? And by the way? WHAT was that about the Texans again? Thank you. It is a gift, I say modestly. I do love football season. I think it appeals to the lazy and yet competitive slug in me.

Someone (I am so sorry I do not remember who it was and I am too lazy [see above] to check right now) asked about good chapter books for ages 4-5. To be honest, I haven't the faintest idea. Patrick does not seem that interested in fiction so far; as much as that pains me personally since I only read fiction and I am dying to have someone to read Patricia Clapp with me. I mean, he still likes to read his old picture books and he likes poetry (like I said - Silverstein is his Kerouac) but if he is going to read any new stuff with some length to it he is all about the Dewey decimal shelves. I tried to see if he might like the Magic Treehouse series but he didn't, much. I wound up reading the first two book in the series aloud to him on the plane to Seattle but he was not interested in getting the third. I don't think he is sophisticated enough or something? For whatever reason the joys of straight-forward storytelling escape him so I tend to just go through the nonfiction rows pulling off anything that looks like it is even marginally directed at children. Human anatomical systems are a new interest and he is always willing to read about animals. I recently realized that he is not all that keen on space exploration - descriptions of the lunar missions fail to grip - so much as he wants to read about the creation of the universe and its structures and how they work together. It is actually sort of hard to find stuff on cosmology that goes beyond a basic description of the planets or what a comet is without launching into technicalities way beyond his grasp. And most books for children about space seem to harp on Neil Armstrong. Not that there is anything wrong with Cmdr. Armstrong, of course, American hero and all that, but as I said - Patrick is not so interested.

Genevieve provided a nice list, though, in answer to that question so in the spirit of sharing and helpfulness I thought I would copy it here:

"Txmama asked for chapter books for 4 and 5 year-olds.  Junie B. Jones books are good for that age; My Father's Dragon; Flat Stanley and all the sequels; the Little House books (with judicious editing and/or explaining in parts); Stuart Little and The Trumpet of The Swan; Alice in Wonderland if they're up for some more complicated language; Clementine and The Talented Clementine (very funny books); Ivy and Bean and the sequels; the Oz books, if a little scariness is OK."

Ah HA! TxMama! That's who it was! Sorry, TxMama.

I haven't read most of these so I do not know if they are for good 4-5 year old readers to read to themselves or if they are to be read aloud or neither or both or if it depends upon the child and the day. If you have any other book suggestions I would love to hear them - it's been a while since we have had a nice book swap. Fiction is fine although I personally could use some good math and science book recommendations.

I think I'll write a pregnancy post for REDBOOK and send that in tonight. You probably have realized this already, but I do not have access to the REDBOOK site. I just type up my whatever and email it as an attachment and they get it up when they have a chance. Inevitably I forget that this is the case and reference things like "today" and "tomorrow" and I am always off by a day or so over there. Victoria asked a while ago if I ever feel overwhelmed by the obligation to them and the answer is: not really. I like writing for money , although I need to put more thought into it than I do here and I feel less... open I suppose. Like I don't mind posting this messy stream of narcissistic consciousness here but I usually feel compelled to at least attempt a narrative for them. More out of loyalty than anything. I'm quite loyal.

Fifteen more minutes of the Chargers game and then I am off to pick up Steve. Hooray! I missed the bastard something fierce, I must admit. No one was around to listen to me all week even when I had something clever to say.

PS Patrick just bellowed "Hello BABIES! It's me! Your brother!" into my belly button (now a complete outie by the way and referred to by Patrick as his "speaker phone to the babies") and was rewarded a moment later by getting to feel his very first kick. He was thrilled. I'm all weepy.

Hope you are well and having a good weekend. 

PPS OK. I didn't mean to imply that I succeed in making the REDBOOK things more thoughtful, just that I try. Try to try. 

Starter

Steve flew home from Seattle with us on Monday but stayed at the airport so he could then get on another plane and go to Colorado. He and his best friend have traditionally taken an annual backpacking trip around now but Steve has missed it for various reasons in recent years. He wanted to go, pointing out he probably would not be doing so for the next few years at least, and I could not think of a plausible reason for him not to do so. I mean, other than my secretly held belief that it is my will alone that keeps him breathing (REDBOOK post up re. Patrick's first day of kindergarten that meanders into my fears about death - comments are broken I think but oh well).

Despite the worry, I usually like the first few days Steve is out of town. The house stays tidy, I only have to make half the bed in the morning (why I do not sleep in the middle I have no idea but I never do), and if Patrick and I feel like having spinach and bread and butter for dinner we can do so without Steve looking incredulously at his plate and wondering why he pays me so well to wife his house. Patrick, by the way, will not eat cooked spinach but he likes a nice baby leaf spinach salad with red pepper slices more than is strictly reasonable. He also likes Sweet*tarts just in case you were starting to wonder again if we are total loons.

Damn it. I just got distracted by a bank issue and now I have to go get the child. We are going to pick raspberries this afternoon but I suppose we will return eventually and I can get around to telling you whatever it was I was going to tell you.

So I'll post this as an interruptus, for now. 

      

Allow Him To Introduce Himself

I have a new post up at REDBOOK that I could have sworn was about our trip to Seattle to visit my brother. Having just reread it, however, I can tell you it appears to be about nothing whatsoever. Still, it's there so... um, enjoy.

Meet the Teachers night last week was actually a three-ring circus that involved every kid in the school bringing their school supplies and milling around for 20 minutes. Although we technically met the teacher long enough to clarify the Steven/Patrick issue and determine that Patrick's kindergarten teacher is 12 years old but very likable; we did not REALLY meet her until today. Today, Patrick and I went in for our one-on-one (two-on-one?) pre-kindergarten chat.

Remember my asking about this chat? About whether I should use it to mention that Patrick is doing X or not? And some of you said yes and some of you said dear god no and I sort of decided to wing it?

I can be such a freak sometimes, really I can. Talk about non-issues. You can go ahead and remind me of this the next time I get all prematurely wound up about something. It won't help, of course, but at least you can then say you told me so. Suffice it to say, Patrick handled the meeting himself quite competently without any interference from me whatsoever. Why do I always think of him as being this shy and retiring creature, like a timid bedbug or something? Patrick today was as verbose and self-assured as they come. He all but held up a palm to me and said, "Allow me to field this one, Mother."

After covering the essentials like whether he will be riding a school bus (no) and whether or not he can bring nuts in any form for lunch or snack (no, damn it), his teacher asked if there was anything she should know about Patrick. Any strengths or weaknesses or anything? This was my opportunity to hop onto the table and shout "HE'S BRILLIANT AND EVER SO HANDSOME!" before doing a little Snoopy dance of exultation but I hesitated. He was sitting right there after all, so I deferred to him and asked if he wanted to tell his teacher about some of the things he enjoys doing.

"Well, I like reading poetry," he started and then they launched into a discussion on the works of the great Shel Silverstein.

"So... no problems with the alphabet, letters, reading...?" she asked me.

"He's a strong reader," I said and she made a note.

Then he told her about some other stuff he likes, mentioning the various solar systems and an enormous star named 51Peg that has planets orbiting it at an incredibly fast rate - four Earth days per rotation!

"Interested in the sciences?" she asked.

"Quite," I confirmed.

Next he told her how excited he was to start school and she said that she was sure he was going to make a ton of new friends since he was clearly so social and talkative (you can borrow my feather when you are done knocking me over with it.) He asked how many kids there were in the class and she said, "21 and about half of them are boys."

He thought for a second before saying, "So... 10? 11? Wait, I can figure this out."

He then proceeded to draw a line on the table with his finger that he sliced through with his hand.

"10? No... ten and a half. The class has ten and a half boys and ten and a half girls. That's ridiculous. Ha ha ha ha ha."

She asked him if he saw that in his head. He said no, he worked it out on his own. She said, "I mean, is it like you can see 21 of something split in half?" He said no, it was just... it is just right.

"Solid math skills then," she said to me. I nodded.

Finally he swung briefly into geography, telling her that we had just gotten back from Seattle Washington which is bordered by Canada to the north and is like Maine but on the other side of the country. He was still talking as I drug (excuse me, as I done dragged) him away.         

She laughed a lot while they talked and I think (I hope) she thought he was a nice kid. Chatty, rarely stopping for air, but nice. As I read this over I can tell it sounds like he was being aggressively self-important but he was actually (I swear! totally unbiased!) very sweet about it. It was obvious that he was trying to impress her but, hey, why not? He had brought his A game [damn it! that reminds me I need to do my football picks. I joined a pool - anyone else think the Texans are up for it this week?] and she was kind enough to be respectful of that. I am pleased.

So school starts tomorrow and I have good feeling about it all so far. It is a HUGE and BUSY place (multiple schools within the school - I'll tell you about it later) but I think Patrick will enjoy the bustle. I just hope he doesn't talk 'em all to death in the process.