February 9, 2009
Woah!
It appears Allison forgot her husband still reads the blog. I know it's been a while since I made a post here, but seriously...this is quite a string of naughty posts. I guess that's why she's been referred to as the "irrepressible" Allison. I'll make sure we get back on track with a string of posts on easy 'n fun recipes, inspiring stories and craft ideas.
Past Due: First Notice
I had my membranes stripped today. I've never been so eager to be stripped in my life. Well, maybe not NEVER, but still.
Yesterday was my due date, so as Shannon put it, I'm now "looking at my due date from the rear view mirror." And my birthday is tomorrow. I've made no small deal about forbidding this child to come on my birthday, but I know she's going to do it anyway, just to spite me. She's already pushing my buttons!
I went to my scheduled OB appointment this morning, and it started off pretty routine: pee in this, step on the scale, smear this on your belly, etc. Then my doctor walked in, looked at me and said, "Still pregnant, huh?" "Tell me about it." She then said she'd check my cervix (finally! This is the first time since my 3 month appointment that they've offered to put something up there!) and then offered to "strip the membrane" meaning separating the cervical opening from the amniotic bag. I know, TMI. Whatever. But I'm at 2 cm dilated, she stretched me to 3 with the stripping, then said I had a high pain tolerance when I asked, "Is that it?" Apparently some of you women out there think that's a pretty medieval procedure. Personally, I was happy to have any progress whatsoever.
This past weekend, we've tried some of these "home remedies" to get things going. I've gone on long walks, purchased and self-administered castor oil (and got the sweaty shakes with no contractions), invited my masseuse friend over, tried vigorous joining behavior, and yesterday after church, Ted even tried shaking a bag of peanut M&Ms and wafting their fumes near my birth canal to try to lure her out.
Saturday night was a birthday gathering for my old friend and former roommate, Megan, who was born 6 days before me. She announced at the party that she is 2 months pregnant (congratulations!) and is therefore still in the sick stage. So we took a picture of the two of us, her just starting, and me trying to end.
I'm kidding. We really don't feel that way, so we had to take a more realistic pose:
So, anyhoo, I really am taking any suggestions for inducing labor at this point. A friend of mine said margaritas were a good idea, so just to be sure, I had two. Ted didn't seem to mind the "imbibing." (Before anyone runs out and calls Child and Family Services, don't worry, those are the most virgin drinks ever made)
Do I need to send our child its first eviction notice? Her lease is up at nine months, and I don't see any rent paid for an overstayed welcome.
Yesterday was my due date, so as Shannon put it, I'm now "looking at my due date from the rear view mirror." And my birthday is tomorrow. I've made no small deal about forbidding this child to come on my birthday, but I know she's going to do it anyway, just to spite me. She's already pushing my buttons!
I went to my scheduled OB appointment this morning, and it started off pretty routine: pee in this, step on the scale, smear this on your belly, etc. Then my doctor walked in, looked at me and said, "Still pregnant, huh?" "Tell me about it." She then said she'd check my cervix (finally! This is the first time since my 3 month appointment that they've offered to put something up there!) and then offered to "strip the membrane" meaning separating the cervical opening from the amniotic bag. I know, TMI. Whatever. But I'm at 2 cm dilated, she stretched me to 3 with the stripping, then said I had a high pain tolerance when I asked, "Is that it?" Apparently some of you women out there think that's a pretty medieval procedure. Personally, I was happy to have any progress whatsoever.
This past weekend, we've tried some of these "home remedies" to get things going. I've gone on long walks, purchased and self-administered castor oil (and got the sweaty shakes with no contractions), invited my masseuse friend over, tried vigorous joining behavior, and yesterday after church, Ted even tried shaking a bag of peanut M&Ms and wafting their fumes near my birth canal to try to lure her out.
Saturday night was a birthday gathering for my old friend and former roommate, Megan, who was born 6 days before me. She announced at the party that she is 2 months pregnant (congratulations!) and is therefore still in the sick stage. So we took a picture of the two of us, her just starting, and me trying to end.
I'm kidding. We really don't feel that way, so we had to take a more realistic pose:
So, anyhoo, I really am taking any suggestions for inducing labor at this point. A friend of mine said margaritas were a good idea, so just to be sure, I had two. Ted didn't seem to mind the "imbibing." (Before anyone runs out and calls Child and Family Services, don't worry, those are the most virgin drinks ever made)
Do I need to send our child its first eviction notice? Her lease is up at nine months, and I don't see any rent paid for an overstayed welcome.
February 4, 2009
Rescue 911
Yesterday started out badly and then got really really good.
Ted and I got into a bit of a tiff yesterday morning that really began in the middle of the night, made exponentially worse by my inability to sleep due to congestion and by the fact that impatience and increased hormone production are causing some seriously adverse effects. He left to go to the lab, and I attempted to put together a mobile that had no picture or directions through tears spilling down my face. Time for the girlfriends to come to the rescue, and rescue they did.
Suzy and Sachia had offered to come by my house and fold, put away, and otherwise organize all the "stuff" that I acquired at both showers. It was a huge help, and the chance to just laugh and cavort and eat treats made the owies go away. And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, lo and behold, Sachia offered to go with me down to the local fire station so we could ask the steamy firemen to install our carseats. I heard about this free service from my friend Laura, and was eager to try it out since she said they're lickety split and they get it in better and tighter (and therefore safer) than laymen like myself. To quote Sachia, "You need this, honey," so off we went.
Our arrival at the station:
They took care of my car seat in about 4 1/2 minutes flat, including putting up the little mirror for the bambina to look in.
And then it was on to Sachia's car. As the young guy tackled that car seat, we got schooled on safety tips by the veteran. This guy has NINE KIDS, ranging from 18 yrs to 6 months, all from the same wife. And to quote him, he's "not done yet. I like even numbers." So you think you'll have 10? "Maybe. I'd like 12."
For all you moms out there, once you get in a crash, your car seat is considered no longer safe, so you have to get a new one - same as bicycle helmets. And if you drive an SUV-type vehicle with the stroller, etc in the back, get a cargo net or cage to hold them down back there, because if you brake hard, those things turn into projectiles, ready to take your child's head off. Hey, I promised I'd tell everyone since they were so nice to take care of us.
Meanwhile, the young buck was slaving away, and making sure little Sienna was nice and safe in her seat. SO CUTE! Oh, and he's single. Just bought a house.
I've pretty much sworn off pictures during the last few weeks since there's no possible way I can look good in them, but I made exceptions for the day. Here's a typical pose:
Thank you to Sachia and Suzy (and serviceable, hot men) for making the day great. Note to self: apply makeup after a morning of crying. Oh well.
And kudos to me for the best shot of the day. I'm sorry! I couldn't resist! It was RIGHT THERE!!
Ted and I got into a bit of a tiff yesterday morning that really began in the middle of the night, made exponentially worse by my inability to sleep due to congestion and by the fact that impatience and increased hormone production are causing some seriously adverse effects. He left to go to the lab, and I attempted to put together a mobile that had no picture or directions through tears spilling down my face. Time for the girlfriends to come to the rescue, and rescue they did.
Suzy and Sachia had offered to come by my house and fold, put away, and otherwise organize all the "stuff" that I acquired at both showers. It was a huge help, and the chance to just laugh and cavort and eat treats made the owies go away. And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, lo and behold, Sachia offered to go with me down to the local fire station so we could ask the steamy firemen to install our carseats. I heard about this free service from my friend Laura, and was eager to try it out since she said they're lickety split and they get it in better and tighter (and therefore safer) than laymen like myself. To quote Sachia, "You need this, honey," so off we went.
Our arrival at the station:
They took care of my car seat in about 4 1/2 minutes flat, including putting up the little mirror for the bambina to look in.
And then it was on to Sachia's car. As the young guy tackled that car seat, we got schooled on safety tips by the veteran. This guy has NINE KIDS, ranging from 18 yrs to 6 months, all from the same wife. And to quote him, he's "not done yet. I like even numbers." So you think you'll have 10? "Maybe. I'd like 12."
For all you moms out there, once you get in a crash, your car seat is considered no longer safe, so you have to get a new one - same as bicycle helmets. And if you drive an SUV-type vehicle with the stroller, etc in the back, get a cargo net or cage to hold them down back there, because if you brake hard, those things turn into projectiles, ready to take your child's head off. Hey, I promised I'd tell everyone since they were so nice to take care of us.
Meanwhile, the young buck was slaving away, and making sure little Sienna was nice and safe in her seat. SO CUTE! Oh, and he's single. Just bought a house.
I've pretty much sworn off pictures during the last few weeks since there's no possible way I can look good in them, but I made exceptions for the day. Here's a typical pose:
Thank you to Sachia and Suzy (and serviceable, hot men) for making the day great. Note to self: apply makeup after a morning of crying. Oh well.
And kudos to me for the best shot of the day. I'm sorry! I couldn't resist! It was RIGHT THERE!!
Master of his craft
Hav, a fabulous artist, came down from the trees of Oregon for his birthday weekend to attend some art shin-digs. While he was here, he came to church and smiled at me from the back of the chapel. I nabbed him after the meeting to do to me what he'd done to 3 other women, including his wife: sketch the Da Vinci fetus on my growing (grown?) belly. He was almost as excited as I was at the prospect, so while Ted left the house to do a ministering visit, I had a swanky visitor of my own. I got 1/4 naked for him, and this was the result:
I apologize to him for not having quite the perfect canvas, but I loved it nonetheless.
I apologize to him for not having quite the perfect canvas, but I loved it nonetheless.
February 2, 2009
72 Degrees and 100% Chance of Showers
I've been on maternity leave for a week now, which is supposed to mean I should be lounging, elevating, snacking, napping, reading, and snoozing. When I'm not doing any of those things, I'm supposed to be relaxing. Or so they say.
In actuality, I had to write down a list entitled "Before Baby Comes", and if Becky is reading this, we really don't know what her name is yet. We're not just being secretive. And if we did, we'd certainly tell you before we told Kathleen. :)
To get back on track, it's a long list. The most intimidating entry was "write thank-you notes" for the two baby showers that were very graciously thrown me (and the baby, but really, me). It was intimidating because of the sheer number of notes I needed to write. The shower in Utah was great - intimate, best friends and sisters-in-law (and one mother-in-law) present, and a lot of laughing and good advice. The shower in California was a madhouse. All told, there were about 70 people packed into one house, and the mountain of cute packages was an obviously daunting task.
Before launching in to the opening frenzy (and it was seriously a frenzy. I was hot and sweaty by the end of it), I made some stupid joke about it looking better than Christmas growing up. You know, you come into the family room with the presents piled everywhere and you think of how many things you're going to get and you're so excited you can hardly breathe, but then you realize the loot is divided up between 9 siblings and two parents, so you end up with 4 things, one or two of which aren't what you wanted at all. But at your baby shower, they're all for you! And since every friend and family member has cute taste (and how can you have BAD taste for a baby girl??), everything was perfect! If you can get past my double chins and the belly dropping into my crotch, I thought I'd post a few photos. This was a blanket my visiting teacher made. LOVE the orange and the dots - perfect.
These were four of the ladies who took care of the fabulous food. We became pals during our freshman year in college and ended up settling down in SoCal together, so 4 weddings, 7 kids, and 2 feti later, here we are, in all our glory.
I believe I'd made mention a time or two about my love for peanut M&Ms (I registered for large bags of them on our baby registry - despicable, I know). Well, it paid off.
I need to take a picture of it, but a friend I grew up with even knitted me a hand-sized peanut M&M, brown with the white "m" on the front. She put a little rattle inside it. The baby will not be touching it. It is mine.
To make myself feel better, I'm including a picture of two women who are/were due within days of me. Melanie, the girl in pink, *update* had her baby yesterday morning - a big boy, and Doris is due about ten days after me. We get together at church and have misery sessions together. No details given at this point.
With so many like-minded women in one spot, there were bound to be some duplicates of things, and there were, much to the disappointment of the duplicate givers. I've been there, and I've personally felt saddened that the present I gave wasn't original or necessary or whatever. To those folks, I say: the baby is going to be spitting up or pooping on everything, so I figure I'll use the duplicate while the other is in the wash.
What was extremely UNexpected was this duplicate. Are these shoes to die for or what??
One of the givers told me a week or so before the shower that she had just bought my shower present and was SO excited to give it to me, for obvious reasons. I opened hers first and couldn't help but comment that I used to have a pair of underwear that looked just like them and that they'd been my favorite pair out of my entire collection (which was extensive and ridden with personality). Then, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a duplicate pair - for a one-year old dear. Oh, how I laughed! Am I that predictable??
Ladies, thank you for a VERY memorable and sweet shower. I had a ball, and this baby is going to be dressed to the nines. I will be reminding her over and over how lucky and loved she already is.
In actuality, I had to write down a list entitled "Before Baby Comes", and if Becky is reading this, we really don't know what her name is yet. We're not just being secretive. And if we did, we'd certainly tell you before we told Kathleen. :)
To get back on track, it's a long list. The most intimidating entry was "write thank-you notes" for the two baby showers that were very graciously thrown me (and the baby, but really, me). It was intimidating because of the sheer number of notes I needed to write. The shower in Utah was great - intimate, best friends and sisters-in-law (and one mother-in-law) present, and a lot of laughing and good advice. The shower in California was a madhouse. All told, there were about 70 people packed into one house, and the mountain of cute packages was an obviously daunting task.
Before launching in to the opening frenzy (and it was seriously a frenzy. I was hot and sweaty by the end of it), I made some stupid joke about it looking better than Christmas growing up. You know, you come into the family room with the presents piled everywhere and you think of how many things you're going to get and you're so excited you can hardly breathe, but then you realize the loot is divided up between 9 siblings and two parents, so you end up with 4 things, one or two of which aren't what you wanted at all. But at your baby shower, they're all for you! And since every friend and family member has cute taste (and how can you have BAD taste for a baby girl??), everything was perfect! If you can get past my double chins and the belly dropping into my crotch, I thought I'd post a few photos. This was a blanket my visiting teacher made. LOVE the orange and the dots - perfect.
These were four of the ladies who took care of the fabulous food. We became pals during our freshman year in college and ended up settling down in SoCal together, so 4 weddings, 7 kids, and 2 feti later, here we are, in all our glory.
I believe I'd made mention a time or two about my love for peanut M&Ms (I registered for large bags of them on our baby registry - despicable, I know). Well, it paid off.
I need to take a picture of it, but a friend I grew up with even knitted me a hand-sized peanut M&M, brown with the white "m" on the front. She put a little rattle inside it. The baby will not be touching it. It is mine.
To make myself feel better, I'm including a picture of two women who are/were due within days of me. Melanie, the girl in pink, *update* had her baby yesterday morning - a big boy, and Doris is due about ten days after me. We get together at church and have misery sessions together. No details given at this point.
With so many like-minded women in one spot, there were bound to be some duplicates of things, and there were, much to the disappointment of the duplicate givers. I've been there, and I've personally felt saddened that the present I gave wasn't original or necessary or whatever. To those folks, I say: the baby is going to be spitting up or pooping on everything, so I figure I'll use the duplicate while the other is in the wash.
What was extremely UNexpected was this duplicate. Are these shoes to die for or what??
One of the givers told me a week or so before the shower that she had just bought my shower present and was SO excited to give it to me, for obvious reasons. I opened hers first and couldn't help but comment that I used to have a pair of underwear that looked just like them and that they'd been my favorite pair out of my entire collection (which was extensive and ridden with personality). Then, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a duplicate pair - for a one-year old dear. Oh, how I laughed! Am I that predictable??
Ladies, thank you for a VERY memorable and sweet shower. I had a ball, and this baby is going to be dressed to the nines. I will be reminding her over and over how lucky and loved she already is.
January 28, 2009
Studentisms 4.0
I began maternity leave last Friday (hallelujah!), so that means I have ALL the time in the world to blog before baby comes, right? Um, not so much. However, I thought that to commemorate my very first maternity leave, I'd put in another installment of studentisms to honor those little Bs and Bs I have left behind for the next couple of months.
During a discussion on atoms, I made an electron orbital that was far from a perfect circle. As I was erasing and correcting it, I began to ask the class if they knew what a tangent was, since that's what my sad attempt looked like. Right after I asked it, I realized they wouldn't know what a tangent was until they got into geometry (if at all), but wondered if they might know what it was in reference to a conversation instead. Here's how this one went down:
me: Do you guys know what a tangent is? Like, in a conversation?
Darius: Yeah. Ain't that a fruit?
me: Uh, that's a tangerine, smarty pants.
Darius: whatever.
The next choice conversation happened in the same class, and it had to do with a little piece of equipment I introduced to them that day. It looks like this:
It's called a spring scale, and you use it to measure the amount of force an object has by just attaching it to the hook at the end. The spring stretches, and you read where the plunger stops. So I hold up this little piece of gadgetry and ask:
me: Has anyone seen one of these?
Class: [various murmurings, including "no", "yeah, I think", and "who cares?"
me: What do you think it's called?
Marvin: A springer!
Chelesey: A scale?
me: You're getting close!
Gabby: A hooker!
[dead silence]
[teacher breaks out in laughter]
The last one was a great story my sister told me last night. My sister has taken over for me as the long-term substitute. It was a long story, so I'll spare you, but I'm really glad I'll have the constant contact with my students over these next several weeks. She and I have been planning together during the nights, and she reports to me how that day's lessons went. Currently, the students are learning about crystals and polymers and how they're bonded together in repeating patterns. Shannon introduced the topic thusly.
Shannon: Okay, class, tell me everything you know about crystals.
Leslie: You can smoke 'em!
Carlos: [turns around and whispers] Hey, good one!
You see what I've been dealing with? Gotta love urbanized 8th graders.
During a discussion on atoms, I made an electron orbital that was far from a perfect circle. As I was erasing and correcting it, I began to ask the class if they knew what a tangent was, since that's what my sad attempt looked like. Right after I asked it, I realized they wouldn't know what a tangent was until they got into geometry (if at all), but wondered if they might know what it was in reference to a conversation instead. Here's how this one went down:
me: Do you guys know what a tangent is? Like, in a conversation?
Darius: Yeah. Ain't that a fruit?
me: Uh, that's a tangerine, smarty pants.
Darius: whatever.
The next choice conversation happened in the same class, and it had to do with a little piece of equipment I introduced to them that day. It looks like this:
It's called a spring scale, and you use it to measure the amount of force an object has by just attaching it to the hook at the end. The spring stretches, and you read where the plunger stops. So I hold up this little piece of gadgetry and ask:
me: Has anyone seen one of these?
Class: [various murmurings, including "no", "yeah, I think", and "who cares?"
me: What do you think it's called?
Marvin: A springer!
Chelesey: A scale?
me: You're getting close!
Gabby: A hooker!
[dead silence]
[teacher breaks out in laughter]
The last one was a great story my sister told me last night. My sister has taken over for me as the long-term substitute. It was a long story, so I'll spare you, but I'm really glad I'll have the constant contact with my students over these next several weeks. She and I have been planning together during the nights, and she reports to me how that day's lessons went. Currently, the students are learning about crystals and polymers and how they're bonded together in repeating patterns. Shannon introduced the topic thusly.
Shannon: Okay, class, tell me everything you know about crystals.
Leslie: You can smoke 'em!
Carlos: [turns around and whispers] Hey, good one!
You see what I've been dealing with? Gotta love urbanized 8th graders.
January 14, 2009
Daddy-to-be
Every pregnant woman has her complaints. Some get them all out at the beginning, some wait to lay it on thick at the end, and others just spit out a constant stream over the entire nine (and a half) months.
I am no different from every pregnant woman in this regard. My main thrust of complaints are coming on pretty strong these days as my due date nears. I've really tried to curb the complaints, or at least shroud them with humor so I don't get the pity pout (a facial expression I can't stand), but one person who basically hears it all is the ol' husband. Men, you know what I'm sayin'. If your woman allowed you to speak your mind, you could tell us ALL a thing or two, and I'm not just talking about stretch marks and water retention (my two biggest battles at this 36-AND-A-HALF-week point). A pregnant, hormonal woman will punch her husband in the face if he dares utter a thing about her gas over-production, abnormal secretions, and diminished libido. I mean, if these guys want to continue to eat and live under the same roof, they'll keep their mouths shut.
Well, Ted has heard it all from yours truly, and it ain't over yet. But talk about taking it in stride! A couple of posts ago, I wrote about Thanksgiving and that one of the things I was thankful for was a husband who wants to touch, hold, hug, and kiss his pregnant wife no matter how large she's getting. Well, it's been a month and a half since then, and according to my last OB appt, I gained 8 lbs in a week, so the largeness rate is exponentially rising. I've been assured it's all water at this point, and the canyon-esque indentations from YESTERDAY'S socks would point to that cause as well, but it doesn't make me feel any better.
And what's Ted doing in the middle of all this? He purchased the book, The Expectant Father, and has been taking tips along the way. One of these is an almost-daily foot massage and leg stretch. Bless that man. He still kisses and cuddles me like crazy, including necessary bum-grabs, and tells me multiple times daily that he loves me. Then he spends a day to do things like this:
And this:
See, I bought him a cordless drill for Christmas and he's been having a good time with it. Admittedly, so have I. Does anyone else need to fan themselves when they see the man they love putting a room together for someone they haven't met yet?
All because of a little love...
I am no different from every pregnant woman in this regard. My main thrust of complaints are coming on pretty strong these days as my due date nears. I've really tried to curb the complaints, or at least shroud them with humor so I don't get the pity pout (a facial expression I can't stand), but one person who basically hears it all is the ol' husband. Men, you know what I'm sayin'. If your woman allowed you to speak your mind, you could tell us ALL a thing or two, and I'm not just talking about stretch marks and water retention (my two biggest battles at this 36-AND-A-HALF-week point). A pregnant, hormonal woman will punch her husband in the face if he dares utter a thing about her gas over-production, abnormal secretions, and diminished libido. I mean, if these guys want to continue to eat and live under the same roof, they'll keep their mouths shut.
Well, Ted has heard it all from yours truly, and it ain't over yet. But talk about taking it in stride! A couple of posts ago, I wrote about Thanksgiving and that one of the things I was thankful for was a husband who wants to touch, hold, hug, and kiss his pregnant wife no matter how large she's getting. Well, it's been a month and a half since then, and according to my last OB appt, I gained 8 lbs in a week, so the largeness rate is exponentially rising. I've been assured it's all water at this point, and the canyon-esque indentations from YESTERDAY'S socks would point to that cause as well, but it doesn't make me feel any better.
And what's Ted doing in the middle of all this? He purchased the book, The Expectant Father, and has been taking tips along the way. One of these is an almost-daily foot massage and leg stretch. Bless that man. He still kisses and cuddles me like crazy, including necessary bum-grabs, and tells me multiple times daily that he loves me. Then he spends a day to do things like this:
And this:
See, I bought him a cordless drill for Christmas and he's been having a good time with it. Admittedly, so have I. Does anyone else need to fan themselves when they see the man they love putting a room together for someone they haven't met yet?
All because of a little love...
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