The Labor Story - Part I of ??

On June 8th I went to the OB/GYN for my 38 week appointment (although I was two days shy of 38 weeks). I was slightly nervous because my BP had been sporadically rather high, but it hadn't been too bad the last time so I wasn't feeling too bad. I went to an OB where there were numerous doctors and you didn't always get the one you wanted but that day I had made the appointment with Dr. M. who we LOVED. Dr. M was the one who guided us through our miscarriage, and then when we got pregnant again he guided us through my subchorionic hemorrhage and broke the news to us last year that I had to stay in bed and couldn't go to Canada. He was utterly kind and wonderful and a TERRIFIC doctor.

I had my ultrasound and blood draw and urine analysis and internal exam and then Dr. M. asked us to meet him in his office (which is what he does and was not ominous). We sat down and the doctor said 'what are you doing later tonight?' We knew what this mean - induction. I was not dilated at all and the baby had not dropped but he was an estimated 5 pounds 9 ounces and my blood pressure was sky high (I can't remember anymore how high...but scary). The doctor asked us a few questions and we asked a few back and I was scheduled to be induced at midnight that night. Dr. M. called to schedule the induction while we sat there and he used a lot of abbreviations that I didn't know but checked on the minute we got home. I was SGpositive (Strep G positive - not a big deal for mama, lots of people are Strep G positive, but a big deal for baby, I would need to be put on antibiotics to make sure that I didn't pass the virus on to Cooper), had PIH (pregnancy induced hypertension), and Cooper was SGA (small for gestational age).

We walked out of that office in a daze. We couldn't quite wrap our minds around what was going on. As we walked to the car we each pulled out our cell phones and called our respective jobs and mothers. Then I determined that since we were not going to have alone time for quite a while I wanted to go to Olive Garden for lunch. We did and I had apricot chicken and angel hair pasta with Alfredo sauce and it was very good!

After we got home I did some frantic hospital bag packing, arranged to take the dogs to a boarding kennel, tidied the house, made phone calls and then took a nap. While I did that Paul The Procrastinator went to the fire station and got help installing the car seat correctly. Fortunately I had preregistered for the hospital already so that was done. After all of that was said and done we took some pictures of my pregnant belly and then at around 10:30 we headed for the hospital.

I will spare you the pics in a sports bra so you do not have to see the approximately 40 stretch marks across my belly. Thanks Coopie!

We got the the hospital at around 11:30 and were told that we could wait in the 'family room'. We didn't expect the wait to be long but it was INTERMINABLE and we didn't get called in until after 1:30 am as I recall. In the meantime we had to listen to other people's obnoxious family members and, the television was set to FOX STINKIN' NEWS which caused me to become apoplectic with rage about every 15 minutes or so and start storming around the room leaving what was probably a palpable trail of ANNOYANCE in my wake. No one should have to sit in a room at 1 in the morning waiting to have a child and be stuck listening to Bill O'Reilly. Lord help me.

Eventually I was called in but Paul was told he had to wait. We thought that was odd but it turned out that they needed to ask me all sorts of questions like 'are you afraid to spend time alone with your husband' and 'are you afraid to go home after this with your husband'. I indicated that I was not and then had to answer about another hundred questions, give blood and pee, get into my gown, get a blood pressure cuff attached to my arm, an IV into the other arm and get the monitors attached to my belly. Finally another nurse came into our (very nice) room and announced that Paul was going to come in whether we were ready or not because he was about to knock down the door. I was really touched by that and Paul was in near panic mode when he finally got to come in because nobody had explained to him why he was not allowed in for the beginning. But, now we were settled in, had met our nurses and were ready to go.

Wow, that's unattractive. Toward the middle of my pregnancy the hormones kicked in and gave me GORGEOUS, smooth, perfect skin for a few months. Then in the last month or two new hormones kicked in that made my rosacea F-L-A-R-E like you would not believe. Oh, wait, you would, you can see it right there! And it is still just as bad now that the baby is 5+ months old! Whee!

Hi, I'm still alive. I'm working hard to catch up on everything including Facebook and this blog but it is slow going. Miss you all and I will try to write here at least sometimes.




Btw - Terry Wolf - I replied to your email and your email addy is no longer valid. Email me again, I would love to catch up!


Here are some grainy, uncropped pictures:

Super Duper Cooper

I seriously don't have the time or energy to post here but I wanted to say that Cooper was eight weeks old yesterday and he is doing fine. He was circumcised last week and promptly got a urinary tract infection so he is on antibiotics and they make his tummy feel yuck but other than that he is doing well. He sleeps a -bit- better by now and he is smiling at me a lot and lifting his head amazingly well. Here are some pics:

He had to get an ultrasound and looked awfully cute lying on the giant bed waiting for the technician...


A favorite picture of mine. He HATES the car but he actually fell asleep once so I snapped a pic that got both his milky little face and CRAZY STUPID ADORABLE feet.

His wrists are too small for the wrist rattles (although he is nine pounds now) so I tried them on his ankles. He was not a fan.

Busy looking like my dad.

Sorry the pics are all blurry... I can never force myself to go get my camera but the cell phone is always there so that's how the pics get taken.

Well, THAT didn't work!

Well, crap. You know that whole very carefully orchestrated timeline that I just told you all about? The one that is going to keep our money pit of a dog alive and healthy and happy? Yeah, that did not work. We started Smeagol on her anti-fungal medicine on Thursday night, hiding her pills in favorite foods as we usually do, and it started off really well; her scratching was almost immediately diminished by at least 75%. By Saturday morning we were having a rough time getting her to take her pills and her tail uncurled (in pugs, or at least in our pug, that tail doesn't uncurl unless she is getting scratched in a really good spot or she is desperately depressed or sick) and we were getting a bit nervous. She refused to go outside, and she didn't seem to have the energy to jump on and off the bed anymore. Every part of her screamed 'SICK'. Still, we hesitated to stop the medicine because we assumed that, although the medicine was clearly hard on her, part of her misery was the fungus in the first place and the pills were necessary.

By Sunday night she wouldn't take her pill at all and it took fifteen minutes of Paul trying to shove the pill down her throat and then hold her mouth and nose closed until she managed to get it down. He was eventually successful but we were both sweating and near tears, Smeagol was freaking out and Waffles was trembling from head to toe. So, on Monday morning we did not give her her pill and we called the vet. The vet said, and I quote - 'STOP!' It turns out that her suffering was not at all normal and that these pills were really bad for her.

It's Wednesday morning now and she is feeling much, much better but much to our chagrin that means that the only other way to get rid of the fungus is to continue giving her those godawful sulfur-lime dips once a week for another 4-6 weeks. Not only does she stink for a full week or more after the dip (and the smell makes me feel kind of sick, honestly) but the dips also cost quite a bit more than the pills. Also, Girldog has to stay at the vet for about 5 hours for the procedure so that means that we have to get up a bit early so Paul can drop her off and then I have to leave work for half an hour in the afternoon to pick her up and bring her home to her UTTERLY MISERABLE brother dog who is so depressed by this whole business that he's barely functional whenever Smeagol is gone.

Whee!

(Happy babies chewing side by side)

I should also note, by way of provoking a little sympathy for myself (THAT'S a positive personality trait, huh?) that my renewal immigration paperwork is due next week, that I'm going to be unable to do anything this weekend because Smeagol is also getting spayed on Friday, that I'm still on weekly trips to the OB and that I'm 33 weeks today. I still haven't bought nearly everything we need for Baby Boy, the nursery is not ready, I haven't picked a pediatrician...and I'll stop with that before I wind up scanning my To-Do list so you all can see my stress level in bullet point form.

On the plus side, I have new buddies! They're Canada Geese! I've tried four times to get a good picture of them but have not been successful yet, but I will eventually and then I will be sure to post it. I'm the last person to leave work every day so when I leave I always drive around the complex to check for any problems that may need to be addressed before I leave. We have a gorgeous little creek that curves around the buildings and so lately I've taken to stopping the car for a few minutes and enjoying the view before I head home to the next level of stress for the day. A few weeks ago I noticed a few Canada geese swimming on the creek and I had a lovely moment watching them float by. Since then the rest of the geese have moved on but there are two left. Each day they are in a new spot when I drive around; sometimes way up by the road, sometimes hiding behind the shed at the very back of the property, sometimes just getting ready to head back into the water and they're getting used to me now. At first when I would pull up near them they would waddle as quickly as they could back to their creek, but now they just turn their backs to me and continue on with their foraging.

I love these geese with all of my heart and soul. I loved them first because they seemed so peaceful in the middle of my tense life. And of course I love them because they are a reminder of Canada - oh the deliriously wonderful sound sometime in the spring in Manitoba when you hear that telltale honking and you look up and see that 'V' of a flock of geese coming back home and you know that finally, finally the snow is going to melt and life can start again. The other day Paul got to see my geese for the first time and he pointed out the part that I love the very best and hadn't even thought of - there are only two and they are always together. Geese mate for life and I'm sure that these two are partners. I don't know why they chose to stay when all of the others are gone but I'm considering it my little gift. A moment of peace at then end of every day.

Pupdate

I got an email from BlogHer, the lovely people who post advertisements over there in my sidebar ----->, the other day that I thought was hilarious. They mentioned that, if it was okay with me, they would like to switch my blog to their 'parenting' section after Baby is born. I had to laugh because I SO don't want to become a one dimensional blog but seriously it is difficult to think about or concentrate on anything else besides the 4 pound human that currently dominates every aspect of my life. So, I guess in a few weeks this will be an official Mommy Blog...but there could be worse things!

For today though I'm going to give a little dog update. Our complete and utter love affair with Waffles continues unabated. There is something about that dog that we adore so totally that it is actually sort of strange. He is so terribly sweet and sensitive to our moods that I frequently have to calm myself down in order to MAKE THE DOG FEEL BETTER.
(Mama's crying! It must be my fault! Maybe if I press my ears flat to my head I will be less noticeable.)

He still regularly (although slightly less regularly) destroys our belongings and yet we are still in love with the little idiot. He is also so smart that I can give him complex commands and he will follow them. The other day he had three toys downstairs (when they belong in a basket upstairs) and, rather than bending down, I told him to 'pick up his bunny and bring it upstairs'. He snooted through his three toys until he found the bunny, picked it up and brought it upstairs. I found that eerily intelligent and he does similar things all the time. His vocabulary is massive.
(Lying in the sun with one of his bunnies)

And then there's Smeagol. I've written for around 3 1/2 years about Smeagol's health problems. She gets these random infections about every 6 to 16 weeks or so. It will start off as an irritation in her facial wrinkles and eventually spread to sores on her belly and swollen, irritated paws. We have seen at least four vets over the years and each one goes through the same routine: 'it's a food allergy, change her diet', 'its an environmental allergy, clean her off when you come back inside from walks, 'its a bacterial infection, here's some expensive medicine and cream', 'its random, all we can do is treat it each time it occurs'. We have gone through this cycle literally dozens of times and it is exhausting and expensive for us and miserable for little itch-face.
(Papa, I thought you'd never come home. Is that really you?)

The vet we started with here in Tennessee went through this as well in our first year with him but then he said something that I've been hoping to hear from a person doctor for myself for years - he said 'I'm frustrated and we are going to figure this out'. He contacted a veterinary dermatologist and said that if we agreed we were going to follow her timeline suggestion.

So, first he instructed us to bring Girldog in one morning for a 'sulphurated lime dip' (stinkiest substance known to man) to see if that would do anything. We agreed because we are amenable to anything and this was something that had never been done before so that made us feel hopeful. He then scraped bits of hair and skin off her paws and neck and put them in a 'dermatophyte test medium' (a little vial of orange goo) and told us he would watch it for 21 days and if it turned red it meant she had dermatophytes so we could start treating that. This was also something that had never been done. This week he called to say that the medium had turned crazy, bright, cherry red (which it did, I saw it...it was actually really pretty, this bright red vial with little white streaks growing in it. Andrea, did you ever study dermatophytes?) so we needed to come by and pick up anti fungal medication.

Last, but not least, in the timeline is to get Smeagol spayed which is going to happen on Friday. The vet and the dermatologist vet both seem to feel that unspayed dogs, particularly as they age and particularly the pug breed are just slaves to their hormones and thus some of them become susceptible to every bacteria and fungus that enters their living area and are thus almost constantly tormented by infection and itching.
(The black part is my leg...this is her way of letting me know she doesn't feeeeeeeel well)

So, that is the plan. It is an expensive plan and a time-intensive plan and in some ways a dangerous plan but it is the best we can do. Fortunately veterinary treatments are individually quite cheap (the lime dip was $22, the pills for the dermatophytes were $14 for example) it's just the cost of all of these treatments added up over the months and years that makes me feel faint. But, at this point we felt that this had to come to a head. We are so utterly broke and I am freaking out trying to figure out how this month we are going to be able to pay normal expenses plus immigration fees plus spaying plus buying all the baby stuff that we still need but we are not prepared to give up our dogs unless it becomes absolutely, critically necessary. These are last ditch efforts here to get Smeagol better. If this program does not get her better I do not know what we will do because after Baby is here we will not have the time or money to try to help her constantly.

When I went to pick up the pills yesterday I asked the vet if he thought that the dermatophyte infestation was what had been wrong with Smeagol all along and he said that in his opinion that and her need to be fixed was what was keeping her this way. He said 'in another month she is going to be a healthy, happy girl again'. That's what we're asking for.

(We have no couch, only a love seat, so the little bit of time that we spend in the living room is a little awkward. There is barely room for Paul and I on the loveseat but on this day both dogs were DETERMINED to be on the loveseat with us. First, Smeagol rearranged Papa into this very awkward sitting position so she could lie on his leg, then, not to be outdone, Waffles managed to find himself a position too. They would have been content like this for hours, but, needless to say, poor Paul was not.)

Because every boy deserves a dog

There are no words to express how much I loveloveLOVEpinkpuffyheartsLOVE this picture:

Tidbits of Paul (hmm, that sounds kind of gross...'tidbits re. Paul' maybe?)

*walking through Wal-Mart Paul reminds me for the 18th time...*

Him - Remember, I need to get deoderant.

Me - Yes, yes, I'm aware, baby!

Him - YOU'RE A WEREBABY?! Do you transform into an infant during the full moon? WAH WAH!

**********

Also, people are stopping Paul in restaurants and at work to ask if he is on American Idol. Seemingly he bears a strong resemblance to Danny Gokey (although admittedly Paul has a bit of weight on Danny). So, Paul wants to know if y'all agree. In the sidebar there is that cute picture of us and here is a picture of Danny:

Kind of, huh?

Decision Making Time

So, when Paul bought Smeagol more than six years ago he did not choose to have her spayed. He was, and when I joined the family, we both were, very vigilant about making sure that she didn't get pregnant but that was about all that we did about it. When Waffles joined the family, we got him neutered very early, as is recommended so that we wouldn't have a problem with the two of them (despite how stupid cute a pugrier would obviously be). Over the past two months or so though it has become clear that poor, old Smeagol pug is going to have to be spayed as well.


About two months ago I realized that her next heat cycle, although it is a bit sporadic, is due right around the time that the baby will be born. That would be...bad. She gets moody and needy and I have to keep a close eye on her and a diaper on her so that she won't bleed all over. Of course she pulls the diaper off so I have to do constant laundry as well...all of these things would NOT be ideal with a brand new baby in the house.


Recently, Smeagol developed another infection in her facial wrinkles and we took her to her best buddy, the vet. She gets this infection every few months and we have tried everything including daily wrinkle cleaning with a special prescription gel, a complete removal of red meat and red meat products from the diets of both dogs, no prepackaged dog treats etc. We have been told that her problem is possibly an allergy, possibly an immune system issue, possibly just that she is a pug etc. But as the vet was scraping her skin this time he told us that he had been reading up on the possibility that recurrent skin infections in unspayed female dogs are as a result of the fact that they are not spayed. He pointed out that hormones can wreak havoc on skin (at which point I informed him that he was preaching to the choir) and that perhaps spaying would help her a lot. Even if it doesn't help the constant, costly for us/painful for her infections, it would still dramatically help reduce her chance of some cancers and completely take away her risk for some other cancers.

So we were already pretty well committed to the idea that we would need to suck it up and get her spayed for her sake and for ours and then this damn false pregnancy started. We can't get her spayed for at least another month or so since at her last visit she had a steroid shot and she can't undergo anesthetic for eight weeks after that shot so we have some time to kill but this false pregnancy is a serious pain in the arse. I get the impression that she feels quite terrible and her lactation has not stopped. She looks significantly more pathetic than usual and I feel really terrible for her.




Basically all things are pointing to her needing to be spayed and as soon as possible but I'm really scared about it. She's middle aged for a dog, she's not very healthy and this is major surgery - like a total hysterectomy in women. I read earlier today that the more skin and fat the vet has to cut through the longer and more dangerous the surgery will be...she has lots of skin and fat!


Wish us luck making the right decision and coming up with the money if we do it etc. She's our little girl and we both just adore her. She has been with us both through so many bad times and she has been with Paul since she could fit in the palm of his hand and slept under his chin at night. But...the right decision is to spay her, right?

Two Year Old Waffles

I should have posted pictures of my boy in celebration of his special day...better late than never though. Pardon the quality of these pics, they were both taken with my cell.

Webby is ALWAYS cold (my mom is going to make him some sweaters!) and this is how he burrows his little self under the quilt on the bed:


Huh, this one is of a cold Waffles as well, unintentionally. In the old house the computer table was over the air vent so between all the computer equipment and the warm air coming out of the vent it was his favorite spot:

Of course dogs can pick out and sign cards

I'm sure some of you (and here I'm thinking of you, Bernice) will think this is super stupid but I was so touched by the birthday card Paul gave me 'from' the dogs. He was great this birthday and with this kind of card he reminds me of why I love him AND like him:

Front (Note: we call Waffles "Webby" or "Wiffy" most of the time)


Inside

The colors are not sharp for some reason, I'm terrible at scanning. But, is that not the sweetest thing ever?

Husbands and Other Annoyances

So, in my kitchen I have two towels hanging up at all times, like this:

I find this system to be really clear. The towel above the sink is only for drying clean things, like your hands or washed dishes. See? Above the SINK is for drying CLEAN things. The towel on the stove is for wiping your hands clean of food or what have you while cooking. Again, see? The towel on the STOVE is for wiping off FOOD. I have had this system for 7 months now so the other day when Paul got it wrong again I kind of snapped and shrieked at him. His reponse 'I can't keep track of your COMPLEX RULES!'

That's marriage in a nutshell, I think. What one thinks is obvious the other thinks is fairly esoteric and then they both yell at each other and the cycle continues.

Speaking of extreme irritation...well, let me be fair by saying that Paul and I have needed a new couch since we started living together. His couch was old and secondhand already then and in the three years since then it has gotten a cigarette burn (stupid drunk friends), been peed on by a dog (stupid nervous Waffles), been thrown up on by two dogs numerous times and by an eight year old girl once. Because of all this I keep it covered up with a quilt as you will see in the picture below. The couch is nasty ass gross and God only knows when we will be able to afford a new one. However, we were still not prepared for Extreme Separation Anxiety Waffles and his amazing Powers of Destruction. Ta-Da!

Boys are so stupid.

This has made me giggle for two days

From the ever fantastic http://ihasahotdog.com/

I don't have kids okay, so allow me my dog obsession!

When Paul and I moved from Moldy Apartment #1 for our two month stay in Moldy Apartment #2 before moving permanently to Slightly Moldy Townhouse #1 we found that Smeagol and Waffles were fairly upset by the move and the mess and two sick 'parents' etc. Paul had Smeagol for years before he met me and she never had a crate or a bed to call her own (we bought her a bed at some point and she was fairly uninterested) but she was and is fairly unperterbubable so we weren't too worried. When we moved though, the already very tense Waffles became the Amazing Nervous Boston Terrier, so we bought him a $10 bed at Walgreens. This bed instantly became his and worked perfectly as the little safe nest that dog experts recommend all dogs have. He has two beds now, one upstairs and one downstairs but the disgusting cheapo bed, now grossly stained with God-knows-what is still a favorite and his retreat every time he gets scared - which is about 24 times a day (me turning pages in my book, me cooking, rain falling, having to go to the bathroom, having gone to the bathroom and on and on).

And so, a tribute to Wiffy and his bed - one of my rare good ideas and a perfect fit for a dog that is normally so tense that he makes me look relaxed:




And, while I'm at it, here are some other dog pictures that I've taken recently. Love them as much as I do!

A rare moment of rawhide chewy peace. Normally they are like two three year olds who want ONLY THE TOY THE OTHER ONE HAS!


They generally sleep in a pile like this, although, as you can see, neither one likes being the bottom half of the totem pole.

Well, I guess I'll have to devote the rest of the day to crying now.

Paul says the picture below is way too sad to post on the blog but here's the thing, I like when people read this blog and I hope that they do and that they enjoy it (and click on the ads, k?) but ultimately, I'm gonna put whatever content I want on it. If I wanted to focus on something in particular, I would, but my vision for this blog is just a simple snapshot of my life and what goes on in my head.

I had a long talk with my sister Bernice the other day and I said some stuff that she thought was insane (I get that a lot from my family) and I found myself saying something to the effect that it -might- be crazy, maybe I -am- crazy, 20+ years of depression is -going- to change your brain, its chemistry and its outlook on life. And then I realized that I absolutely believe that. I don't like the fact that I have to interrupt my day 3, 5, 10 times every day to cry, but I do like the fact that I am so moved by the world and its people and its animals and its Creator. I don't want to have had a life of depression, but it has made me who I am and although I am not always fond of myself, I'm fiercely proud of the fact that I'm still alive and kicking and I'm thrilled that I have a husband who smiles at me with such love when I cry about some phone company commercial or picture on the Internet because he loves 'emotional me' too.

Life has not turned out how I expected, but on this blog you maybe get to see little pictures of what my life is like. Maybe you fnd that interesting, or maybe it helps you understand how I tick (f you're a friend or family member and WANT to understand how I tick) or maybe it bores or irritates you and that's okay too, bye!

This picture is so very, very sad and I want to help this man and dog so badly but the picture can be seen as so wonderfully happy too, in a way. This man may be homeless (and I don't think the picture was set up, my cynical husband, but even if it was, I'm sure this happens on a tragically regular basis) but he still gets unconditional love and affection from his dog and that's more than some people get from anyone in a lifetime.


see more cute dogs and puppies

If you look at the comments associated with the picture you'll find a link to a place where you can donate to homeless pets and their humans...might be more productive than just crying about it, I suppose.

Happy One Year!

Alternate Titles:
1) Why does Paul always have to do the goofy face in pictures?
2) Why do I have so many wrinkles when I'm still getting pimples?
3) Don't tell me I'm wearing too much blush, that's stinkin' rosacea and it is NOT getting any better as I get older.
4) How did I get so lucky?

Taco Monkey

Last night was Taco Night in the Pop & Soda household and after he had assembled his tacos, Paul said what has now become my favorite phrase ever:

*squealing* "Eee! I inadvertently made my tacos into a monkey!"

And he kind of did...

(note: he took this picture with his cell phone which makes everything yellow...the tacos and their fillings are not all yellow things)

Curdins

Around a month ago we FINALLY found some cheap curtain rods to go with my beloved old blue curtains that have been with me for 10 years. This meant that the living room would finally get curtains, yay! Of course, that worked out very poorly due to Waffles the Destructor.



As you can see, the left side are the lovely curtains the way they should look and the right side is half a blind, where Waffles chewed the rest off, half a pair of curtains, where Waffles chewed the rest off and a bent curtain rod because he yanked so hard on the curtains. I was SO SO SO PISSED.

Paul made the best of the situation though by giving me a second Valentine's Day card ( I know I'm a couple of weeks late with this post ), this one from the dogs:

Front

Inside

Totally cute, eh?

Jiggety-Jig

Oh vacation, how I miss you so! Here's a mini-retrospective of our trip in less-boring-than-text picture form:

We got a fantastic deal on the same hotel we stayed in for the first night of our honeymoon which meant that we could spend both evenings that we were there frolicking in the pool (all alone since its SO the off season) and then conking out in the jacuzzi). The hotel is right next to the chapel where we got married which made me very nostalgic (although, frankly, that's like shooting fish in a barrel), and look, its EVEN prettier in the wintertime.



We went to a super cool place called Rainforest Adventures where we were, once again, the only customers in the place. While there I met the most famous celebrity I've ever seen...its ZABU!! (You guys watch Zoboomafoo, right?) Zabu wanted to play and pose for the camera and he was completely awesome and I wanted to smuggle him home.


We also checked out a place called Wonderworks which bills itself as an 'amusement park for the mind'. They had lots of neat stuff, including a NASA space suit that you could step into:


They also had this Bed of Nails which Paul thought was a bit uncomfortable but I thought was like a massage it felt so good. Of course, I may be desperate for any sort of tension relief.


And finally, there was the Jurassic Boat Ride. One other couple was on this ride with us through pitch dark tunnels. These are some of the more passive looking dinosaurs, some others were kinda scary in the blackness. We quoted Jurassic Park like mega-dorks the whole time: 'Veggiesaurus, Lex, veggiesaurus!.

We did tons of other stuff too, including getting me a fantastic new pair of jeans that are FINALLY a size smaller (seriously, 30 pounds lost and only one pant size down?!), and watching a song-writers singing contest at the Hard Rock Cafe. It was great and I hate being home again where, alas, I am once again tense, angry and hungry.

Can we go on vacation every month now?

(Actually, that was going to be the end of my post right there but it reminds me; tomorrow Paul will have completed his 90 day probationary period at work (with no absences or lates, thank you very much) so he will get a raise pretty soon and we have health insurance and now he starts booking personal hours. For every month worked he gets a certain amount (and its a lot, yay) of personal hours which he can then use for sick days or call-it-an-early day days or vacation. He can even just cash them out and take the money if he wants to. His goal, although I would prefer he take some days in the summer too, is to bank most of them and then split them up at Christmas - 1/2 in days off to go to Canada and 1/2 cashed in so we can buy the tickets to get to Canada. )

Tick, THROB, Tick, THROB

We've had some good and some bad things happen here in this very eventful week. But for now let me tell you about the last 24 hours. On the negative side, my chest has been hurting a lot, LOT, more again and we're unsure again if we are going to be able to wait the 48 days until health insurance. On the plus side, yesterday was one of our anniversaries (3 years since we started 'going steady') and we gorged ourselves in a very unhealthy way at Perkins. There is no Perkins in Atlanta, so when I saw that there was one in Knoxville I was pretty determined. We celebrated at Perkins after spending an hour at the hospital holding baby Lili who was born on the 10th to our good friends here in our little town. Lili was 5 pounds 12 ounces and 17 1/2 inches long. She was born two weeks early but the doctors, upon seeing her, suspect that they may have been wrong about the due date as she seems to show signs of being younger than 38 weeks. Mom and baby are doing fine. Honorary Aunt Jenn is having a hard time concentrating due to the biological clock GONGING inside her head. Here are some pictures from our day of babying/eating/driving.

Darling Baby Lili (The smallest child I've ever held. Dad and Big Sister had to head out to buy premie clothes because the newborn ones were too big)


Paul and Lili (he was a little scared to hold her but she slept the entire time that either of us held her so it wasn't too scary after all)


Big Sister Mara (singularly unimpressed with all the attention showered on Lili, so here she is with tears in her eyes after being punished)


Driving Home (after a full day of baby holding and celebratory eating. I couldn't resist these beautiful clouds in the sunset, I wish you could see the mountains in the background though, that made it even nicer)

Bratz are Skankz

Our friends who helped Paul get the job here have a four year old daughter who we both adore. Her name is Mara and she's so cute and polite and smart and we could just eat her up.

One of my favorite things is how she calls us 'Mr. Paul' and Miss Jennifer'. Miss Mara loves the Bratz. You know the Bratz, right? Little whore Barbie-style dolls? They're dreadful. The other day she asked 'Mr. Paul, will you play Bratz with me?' Paul agreed but told her that he did not know how to 'play Bratz'. She explained that you introduce each other and compliment each other (in Bratz voices) etc. Mara wanted more Bratz for Christmas, and she got plenty. So many in fact that she got two 'Yasmin's and she decided to give her second Yasmin to Paul so they could play Bratz together. So, Paul's only Christmas gift this year was a 'Bratz play Sportz, Yasmin Fitness doll'. Love it.



*****



And, since I'm posting pictures, here, have another picture of my babies! I call this 'Both Crammed into the Last Patch of Sunlight in the Computer Room'.