Category Archives: personal

Pumping As a Hobby

Song Lyric of the Day:

Pump it, pump it, pump it

Technotronic / “Pump Up the Jam

With Sebastian I succeeded where I did not with Coraline: breastfeeding. As such, I then had to pump A LOT to keep up with a growing baby. Pumping became my hobby. I was pumping six times a day: wake up, midmorning, midafternoon, when I got home from work, late at night, then overnight. It was all I could do to pump as many ounces as I needed to fill the bottles to send with the baby to my mom’s house. My mom basically turned into the Pablo Escobar of breast milk, giving me a hard time if ever I missed quota. She’d text me during the workday: Sebastian is happy his bottles are each an ounce short. NOT. As you can imagine, my mom was not amused with my new nickname for her.

Having to pump so often I was basically tethered to my breast pump, which I got for free, thankyouverymuch, Affordable Care Act. I set up my preferred home pumping spot in the living room. Why not be comfy on the couch? That location gave me tons of quality time with my cat, Buster, as well as with the weirdness that is overnight television programming. Much to the spouse’s dismay, I got back into murder p0rn — shows like Forensics Files (still a classic), Snapped (SO. MUCH. SNAPPED.), 48 Hours on ID, Dateline, Dateline: Secrets Uncovered, It Takes a Killer. Basically, if it had a murder and re-enactments, I was there.

My overnight viewings weren’t all doom and gloom, though. I also got hooked on Psych reruns on Ion (even though they apparently skip airing entire seasons for some reason). Given that I would finish pumping before the episode would end, I started DVRing them so I could get closure and watch the rest of it when I got home from work. Which led to Coraline watching with me since, as far as “adult” TV shows I watch go, Psych is really tame. So I now have a tiny Psych-O who is watching every episode in order with me on Amazon Prime.

Pumping at work wasn’t nearly as fun since it was cat-free, but at least I could be productive thanks to this hands-free pumping bustier I bought. I also had guaranteed privacy in the comfy mother’s room the office has. I will say I should have bought that bustier long before I did, but I got quite good — and fast — typing with one hand in the meantime.

The last time I pumped was in late January. I can’t say I miss it. I still make sure to get lots of quality time in with Buster, who is now 20 years old. And I of course enjoy my Psych sessions with Coraline. The extra free time is now spent chasing a very active 15-month-old and getting as much uninterrupted sleep overnight as possible. That last one is easier said than done.

Liquid gold!

Liquid gold!

 

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Getting My Ish Together

Song Lyric of the Day:

Ooh woo, I’m a rebel just for kicks, now / I been feeling it since 1966, now /Might’ve had your fill, but you feel it still /Ooh woo, I’m a rebel just for kicks, now / Let me kick it like it’s 1986, now

Portugal. The Man / “Feel It Still

Given that it’s December, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I want to accomplish next year. I’ve been more relaxed the last couple of years about making new year’s resolutions, and I don’t plan on changing that. In keeping it simple for 2018, my only real goal is to get my shit together. I want to be more organized. I want to be on time for appointments or — better yet — early. I don’t want said appointments to sneak up on me the day before or — even worse — the day of. I want to make it to more of Coraline’s school functions and even join her for lunch occasionally.

So with the goal of being super organized, I treated myself to a planner from kikki.K. I’d never heard of this brand before because I’m an old; I learned about it from a Wirecutter review of paper journals and planners. I’m an old and the kind of dork who likes reading reviews of paper journals and planners.

I didn’t choose my usual black and instead went with a metallic silver leather planner you can see from space. Seriously — I’ll never lose it on my (black) cluttered desk because it’s SO BRIGHT. I even got it monogrammed, so you know I’m serious. And so Coraline keeps her little mitts off of it — she was very interested in it. It was packaged simply but beautifully, which was an extra little something considering it shipped all the way from Australia.

Behold:

planner1 planner2 planner3Rich teased me about going with an “analog” planner, but I do better when I write things down. I remember things easier and more often and learn new things faster, which is why I take extensive notes when receiving training at work. So while I do rely on my phone calendar to remind me of appointments, I look forward to being more old-fashioned next year and putting pen to paper. Although I will still trust my phone to serve as a backup reminder.

Here’s to a more organized 2018. 🙂

 

 

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The Grinch Not Ready for Christmas

Song Lyric of the Day:

You’ve gotta be cruel to be kind, in the right measure / Cruel to be kind, it’s a very good sign / Cruel to be kind, means that I love you baby

Nick Lowe / “Cruel to Be Kind

I’m having a lot of trouble getting into the Christmas spirit this year. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I just don’t know why I’m not in the mood. On the surface, I should be looking forward to holiday festivities: my kids are great, we have our health, we can afford to splurge on a few presents, yada yada yada. And yet here I am two weeks out from Christmas and I’ve barely gotten any shopping done, the gifts I want to make or have made may very well fall by the wayside, and not all the Christmas decorations are out. At least the tree is mostly decorated. It’s also being avoided by Sebastian, so that’s a definite win — he likes looking at it, but if you hold him close, he pulls his arms in to his sides like the tree is going to bite him. Which I’ll take since he’s one now, cruising like nobody’s business, and getting into everything he can get his little hands on. At least the tree and ornaments are safe, right? Although this morning Buster got a hair up his butt, ran into the living room, and attacked the tree until an ornament fell off. Which, given that he’s now 20, he has not done in several years. I guess he was motivated. (FYI: He knocked down a Simpsons Santa’s Little Helper ornament.)

I have gotten a few presents wrapped, so that’s another item for the pro column. It turns out Coraline is already a good wrapper, too. She’s having fun picking out which papers to wrap presents in and then choosing the bows, ribbons, and tags to go with them. At least I’ve enjoyed some bonding time with her in that regard. Now I just need to kick it into high gear and get into the Christmas spirit. Easier said than done.

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Epiphany Revisited

Song Lyric of the Day:

I wish I knew you when I was young / We could’ve got so high / Now we’re here it’s been so long / Two strangers in the bright lights / Oh I hope you don’t mind / We can share my mood yeah

The Revivalists / “Wish I Knew You

The 13th anniversary of my first-ever blog post just passed. It’s not nearly as momentous an occasion as my cat, Buster, turning 20 in late September, but it’s still worth noting. For me, anyway. I originally started blogging to keep our family up on the happenings in our lives. Rich and I were living in Chesapeake, Virginia, at the time and most of our immediate family was here in Knoxville. It seemed like an easy enough way to share what was going on in our daily lives.

I had to re-read that first post to refresh my memory. (I’m an old — I’ll be 70 in a few decades.) I wrote how I was beyond miserable in my job at the time; government contracting is not for the faint of heart. Or for anyone who wants or needs long-term stability. Or mental stimulation. I wrote about wishing I could go back in time and not major in technical writing; now, I’m not sure I’d change that. It’s precisely because of my degree in technical writing that I ended up at HGTV. Who knows where my then longed-for degree in creative writing would have landed me, especially given how much the publishing industry has changed in the last decade. I’ve acted a few more times since that post, and it is still way more fun than being in a cube all day (dream role: Colin Farrell’s human blanket). I still remember seemingly irrelevant, unimportant things — dates, old phone numbers, dialogue, names of people I met once decades ago. Just don’t ask me what I had for lunch yesterday.

I still don’t think I’ve quite figured out what I want to be when I grow up, but I can tell you I would never have thought I’d end up a mom of two, married for 17+ years, a homeowner, with the same company for more than 11 years, yada yada yada. I can say with certainty, though, that I’m definitely happy with exactly where I am today.

I’m sharing the video for the song for today’s Song Lyric of the Day because it makes me all kinds of happy. I hope it makes you happy, too, and that you can find happiness in where you are in life at this moment.

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The Son’ll Come Out Tomorrow

Song Lyric of the Day:

Tomorrow, tomorrow I love ya tomorrow / You’re always a day away

Aileen Quinn / “Tomorrow

Tomorrow is the big day: We finally get to meet Little Dude. I will be 39 weeks and 1 day into my pregnancy when he is delivered via C-section. I ended up having to have a C-section with Coraline because she refused to budge — my water had broken on its own at 9:50AM, and she was still holding on with grappling hooks come midnight. My doctor was worried about infection setting in, so they had to go and get her. This time, though, I have placenta previa, so a natural delivery was not an option. Combine that with my gestational diabetes, and Little Dude gets sprung from the hoosegow about six days early. I would have been fine trying a natural delivery, but I’m OK with having a repeat C-section. I’m all for whatever gets him here safely. Besides, my stubborn little boy is also transverse. Seems he didn’t care for the head-down position, so he’s breach anyway.

Rich and I are as ready as we’re going to be. My last day of work for the year was last Tuesday, and I’ve been in hard-core nesting mode since. Coraline is beyond excited that she will finally not only be a big sister, but that she will get to meet her baby brother instead of having to settle for hugging and kissing my belly. She’s been singing lullabies to him most nights, during which he stretches out and moves in response to her voice. I’m pretty sure he’ll know who she is as soon as he hears her. Coraline has been a little bit more subdued than normal the last two or three days; we think it’s finally hitting her that everything is about to change. She admitted that she’s more happy than sad, though, so that’s good. Tonight Rich and I enjoyed a last family-of-three dinner with her. Tomorrow we look forward to spending time together as a family of four.

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Soon to be filled …

 

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Fun With Gestational Diabetes

Song Lyric of the Day:

I want candy / I want candy

Bow Wow Wow / “I Want Candy

I had gestational diabetes when I was pregnant with Coraline. Apparently age and ethnicity play into the likelihood of developing it during pregnancy. And while one of my OBs tried to be optimistic about me not having it this time around, he was wrong. I failed the one-hour glucose test so spectacularly — I got 203 when the highest they wanted was 130 — that I didn’t even have to take the three-hour test like I did with Coraline. It was straight from failing the one-hour test to the high-risk OB. Do not pass go.

While pregnant with Coraline, it was easy-peasy to manage my gestational diabetes. I took Metformin. That was it. Well, I also didn’t overeat or go crazy with carb- and sugar-heavy foods, because once the doctors explained that a lot of those giant babies who make the news were the result of moms who let their gestational diabetes get out of control, I vowed to be good. But one magic pill and everything was under control. For that pregnancy, anyway.

Unfortunately, this time around thanks to my super-high score on my one-hour glucose test, the docs could tell my body was not producing/managing insulin the way it was supposed to. Which meant no magic Metformin. This time around I have to take Glyburide at bedtime and — the horror — inject myself twice a day with insulin, once before lunch and again before dinner. So managing gestational diabetes has been as fun this time around as it sounds. The Glyburide was causing me to have scary-low fasting blood sugar levels when I woke up and to have fogged vision every morning, which would last anywhere from a couple of hours to up to about six hours one day, so I was told to cut the already tiny 2.5 mg pill in half. I was still having fogged vision even with the lower dose, but — knock on wood — my body seems to have finally decided to play nice with the Glyburide.

The insulin … oofta. That was a problem from the get-go. I was originally prescribed 10ccs per shot. That turned out to be way too much. I was told to go down to 8ccs per shot. That was still to much, so I had to go down to 6ccs. That seemed to almost still be too much, so I tried 4ccs, which ended up not being enough. I am now back up to 6ccs and that also seems to have stabilized. But at the wrong (higher) doses, my blood sugar levels were way too low. I was getting shaky and woozy, which, after having fogged vision to deal with, was not making me a very happy camper. Not to mention I was worried what that might be doing to Little Dude. Fingers crossed that at my next high-risk OB appointment they’ll be happy with the numbers I have had since sticking with the 6cc shots.

This is where I should mention that I hate needles. HATE. THEM. I can’t even watch injections or blood draws on TV shows and in movies. So being told I had to inject myself twice a day was not something I wanted to hear. Thankfully, the needle is teeny tiny on the preloaded insulin pen. And since I have to inject it straight into my belly, I usually don’t feel the shot. Now, having to draw blood to test my glucose levels four times a day — that hurts. Some days my fingertips won’t stop bleeding right away; I’ve gone through a ton of Band-Aids these last few weeks. Other days I forget which hand I was taking blood from and end up with bruised fingertips when I double-draw from them. Good times.

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The perfect accessories for the woman with gestational diabetes: a testing kit, insulin pen, and blood-sugar log.

So while gestational diabetes has been a royal pain in my ass this time around, I’m happy to take a tiny pill and inject myself with insulin to keep my little boy healthy (and non-gigantic). Still, I would kill to be able to have a second helping of pasta now and then. God, I miss carbs. And candy.

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30 Weeks

Song Lyric of the Day:

You don’t need direction, you know which way to go / And I don’t want to hold you back, I just want to watch you grow

Carole King / “Child of Mine

A few months ago I had started a 30 Day Blog Challenge. I didn’t finish it for a couple of reasons. First, the questions weren’t as interesting (I thought) as the ones I did for the 31 Day Blog Challenge. The 30-day one felt like it had questions written by 14-year-olds. Second, Rich and I got hit with some really disheartening news, followed quickly by some very surprising news. Bigger fish to fry and all.

The surprising news was actually very good news: We are pregnant with our second child, due on November 28. What was surprising about it is that we didn’t think we’d get pregnant so quickly. Now, we know how the sex works, and we’re awesome with birth control (see: daughter it took us 10 years to have), but we didn’t think once we started trying to get pregnant that we would succeed so quickly. After all, we are six years older than last time. I’m also again considered high risk due to my age (I’ll be 75 in several decades). Alas, it turns out Rich and I are sitcom fertile, so we are now eagerly anticipating the arrival of Little Dude sometime around Thanksgiving. And no, we do not yet have his name picked out. We’ve got a long list and have to do some whittling down. I’m confident that by the time he does arrive we will have a name chosen, something simple, something he can live with and not hate. Like Pubert.

Bend It Like Little Dude

He’s a flexible little guy (taken at 28w, 2d)

Feet in the Face

Yes, those are his feet right up against his face. It must be more comfortable than it looks. (taken at 28w, 2d)

 

 

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One Year Gone

Song Lyric of the Day:

Oh the tree of life is growing / Where the spirit never dies / And the bright light of salvation / Shines in dark and empty skies

Bob Dylan / “Death Is Not the End

Today is the day after my birthday. Which means that today is the anniversary of the day my Abuela Tulita passed away, what seems like a lifetime ago. Today also marks the first anniversary of the day our dog Caleb died.

I like to think my abuela was the reason Caleb died the same day she did. Because, to be honest, the woman was a klepto when she was alive. So why should the afterlife keep her from snatching something else — say, a beloved family dog. When Caleb died it felt like we wouldn’t get past the shock and grief. We were completely blindsided by his passing. The worst thing for me personally was seeing the horrible depression his brother, Troubadour, was plunged into. It took weeks for him to come out of it.

Caleb and puppy Troubadour

Caleb getting to know his new little brother, Troubadour (May 2008)

Six months after Caleb’s passing we happened to see an adorable little Chihuahua listed on Facebook. His family was looking to rehome him because they felt like he needed more attention than they could give him. When we showed Coraline his photo, she held up a hand, looked away, and said, “He’s so cute I can’t even handle it.” We contacted the little dog’s mom and arranged a meeting so we could see if and how Capone would fit into our family. He and Troubadour hit it off immediately, to the point that Capone barked his head off once he was put back in his carrier to go home and Troubadour got mopey when he left. That was a Sunday. That Wednesday Capone came to live with us for good.

We’ve never owned such a small dog before, so that was an adjustment. I have to laugh thinking how this little guy, who is literally one-seventh the size Caleb was, would have terrified Caleb. I also have to say how grateful I am that Original Mom chose us to be his new forever family, because we all love him so much. Especially his new big brother, Troubadour.

Troubadour snuggling with his new little brother, Capone

Troubadour snuggling with his new little brother, Capone

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If I Had a Million Dollars

Song Lyric of the Day:

We’re paying with love tonight / It’s not about the money money money / We don’t need your money money money / We just wanna make the world dance / Forget about the price tag

Jessie J / “Price Tag

As of tonight this week’s Powerball drawing is now up to a record $700M. A few weeks ago my friend Nan and I started playing the lottery together. She of course was one of the Hobbit Fan Fellowship contest winners for the trip to New Zealand, while I won a trip for two to Paris way back in 1991. We figured with our combined history — and some luck — it was worth playing. Which is why we are among the kajillion people playing Powerball this week.

So what would I do if I came into any substantial money? I’d pull an Elmer Fudd and be vewy vewy quiet and run to a financial advisor. Historically, I do not descend from strategic financial planners, so I’m pretty sure I would blow through lots of money very quickly if the opportunity arose (despite Rich’s undoubted efforts to keep that from happening). Hell, if I had enough money now and easy access to casinos, I’m pretty sure I would turn into a degenerate slot jockey in no time flat because I LOVE the slots. Which is where an expert planner would come into play to rein my ass in before I started misspending. I would set up trusts for our family members to make sure they were taken care of. I would set up college funds for the kids in our family. I would try to help certain friends on the short list. Once the dust settled, I’d look into permanently vacationing in (read: relocating to) New Zealand. I’d splurge and buy matching living room furniture — you know, live the dream.

But really, I don’t need $700 million. Or $100 million. I just need enough to pay off a house and I’d be happy. I could live a perfectly fulfilling life as a multi-thousandaire.

Scrooge McDuck diving into money

What would you do if you won the lottery?
Gif source: http://giphy.com/

 

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Abuelas

Coraline and Abuela Lupe

Today would have been my Abuela Tulita’s birthday. She’s been gone far longer now than she was in my life, but I miss her every day. I know she would have loved Coraline’s spunky personality, curly hair, love of all cheeses, and the button nose she inherited from her.
Which is why I am so grateful that Coraline’s own abuela lives a few minutes away and is always happy to spend time with her — and with me.

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