But I think about these things, because what ELSE am I going to do while sitting in traffic?
Anyway, you know, it's all over the radio how the police chief of Louisiana resigned in the wake of the Katrina disaster, and how the governor of Louisiana is also coming under heat for how the whole thing was handled...
These people were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I think. I don't believe ANYONE could have handled it any better -- other than possibly never building a major city in such a huge floodplain in the first place. If a disaster like this had waited, say, 20 more years to hit, it would have just been some other people in those same positions. And if these same people had proactively spent billions on having evacuation transportation at-the-ready, then when NO disaster hit, it would look like a huge waste. Look what happened in Texas -- they say too many people evacuated. Give me a break!
So I feel like it's scapegoating to blame these leaders. But maybe that's just the risk you run, when you take a job with such massive responsiblity. It's too big of a job for one person, and if things go right, they're heroes -- and if they go horribly wrong, well, they take the blame.
Whatever. Feel free to tell me if I'm wrong -- I think it's interesting. :)
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Monday, September 26, 2005
Rock N Roll Part II
Crazy Kicky Baby Part II has decided to rear its teeny little feet this morning. Yup, I sit down at my desk at work with a lovely mug of 1/2-caff coffee, and WHUMP the kicking begins. As if being in the second trimester wasn't awesome enough, with the gobs of energy and stellar mood I've been in (you know the hormones are playing crazy tricks on me when Lucy's cranky whining just makes me giggle and want to hug her), not to mention, as my mother-in-law pointed out yesterday, that my breasts are filling out (YES, that was a bit awkward)... ANYway, as if I wasn't already on Cloud Nine-and-a-Half, I get to feel all this miraculous movement. I like to peek at my tummy when nobody's looking and I can actually *see* a couple of the big thumps. Just amazing.
Last week I made Joel put his hand on my tummy for a bit and he could feel some flutteries, too. Hi Gus! We love you!
Last week I made Joel put his hand on my tummy for a bit and he could feel some flutteries, too. Hi Gus! We love you!
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Navigation By Joel, Episode XXVII
...In Which Katie's Is On The Way Home From Roseville
OR
The Storm Created A Vortex And Realigned the Highways!
It was Joel’s birthday yesterday, and he had softball, so he was on his way before I even got home with Lucy after work. Around 7:00 Jean, Ellen and I were TRYING to watch “So You Think You Can Dance” and the storm warnings started.
So Joel calls at like 8:00. “We made it! We’re safe!”
Well, thank goodness, I think, that you managed to figure out you shouldn’t be on a softball field when there’s tennis-ball-sized hail and 75-mph winds coming your way. But what I say is:
“I’m glad you called. Where ARE you?”
“Katie’s.”
Let me pause here for a moment. Katie’s is a bar the guys ALWAYS go to after softball. Don’t let Joel remind you of the ONE TIME they didn’t go (which I have to say I do not have even the sketchiest memory of… it might have been the time the bone popped through Jon’s leg-skin and they had to take him to the hospital)… as a rule, they are at Katie’s every week after the game. Now, to fully understand the hilarity of the guys’ ending up at Katie’s last night, you’ll need a little visual aid. Take your left hand and hold it where you can see it. Look at the BACK of your left hand (so your thumb is pointing right). Make a jazz hand – not a wimpy dead-fish hand, really stretch those fingers out. Got it? OK.
The middle knuckle on your thumb – that’s our house.
The knuckle where your middle finger attaches to your hand – that’s the softball field.
The very tip of your middle finger – that’s Katie’s.
The STORM, all lightning and tornadoes and 75-mph winds and tennis-ball-sized hail of it, is coming from the northwest (i.e. just off the tip of your pinky finger).
Well, I think the visual aid speaks for itself. Essentially, Joel and Pat (who lives 2 blocks from us) RAN FOR THEIR LIVES five miles DIRECTLY INTO THE STORM. Gee, it’s a good thing Katie’s was there to save their hides. Hilarious. I won't even mention the tip I got from an insider that said there was a tree down, blocking their route to Katie's, so they had to take an even more circuitous route. Ooops, I just did.
I'm rolling my eyes so enthusiastically, I almost lost a contact lens.
OR
The Storm Created A Vortex And Realigned the Highways!
It was Joel’s birthday yesterday, and he had softball, so he was on his way before I even got home with Lucy after work. Around 7:00 Jean, Ellen and I were TRYING to watch “So You Think You Can Dance” and the storm warnings started.
So Joel calls at like 8:00. “We made it! We’re safe!”
Well, thank goodness, I think, that you managed to figure out you shouldn’t be on a softball field when there’s tennis-ball-sized hail and 75-mph winds coming your way. But what I say is:
“I’m glad you called. Where ARE you?”
“Katie’s.”
Let me pause here for a moment. Katie’s is a bar the guys ALWAYS go to after softball. Don’t let Joel remind you of the ONE TIME they didn’t go (which I have to say I do not have even the sketchiest memory of… it might have been the time the bone popped through Jon’s leg-skin and they had to take him to the hospital)… as a rule, they are at Katie’s every week after the game. Now, to fully understand the hilarity of the guys’ ending up at Katie’s last night, you’ll need a little visual aid. Take your left hand and hold it where you can see it. Look at the BACK of your left hand (so your thumb is pointing right). Make a jazz hand – not a wimpy dead-fish hand, really stretch those fingers out. Got it? OK.
The middle knuckle on your thumb – that’s our house.
The knuckle where your middle finger attaches to your hand – that’s the softball field.
The very tip of your middle finger – that’s Katie’s.
The STORM, all lightning and tornadoes and 75-mph winds and tennis-ball-sized hail of it, is coming from the northwest (i.e. just off the tip of your pinky finger).
Well, I think the visual aid speaks for itself. Essentially, Joel and Pat (who lives 2 blocks from us) RAN FOR THEIR LIVES five miles DIRECTLY INTO THE STORM. Gee, it’s a good thing Katie’s was there to save their hides. Hilarious. I won't even mention the tip I got from an insider that said there was a tree down, blocking their route to Katie's, so they had to take an even more circuitous route. Ooops, I just did.
I'm rolling my eyes so enthusiastically, I almost lost a contact lens.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
September days
We're gearing up for fall here in the Gronau family. The weather is still hot, but the temptation to bust out the corduroy pants and long-sleeve shirts is getting difficult to resist.
Lucy is cracking us up every day, as usual -- either in the funny way, or in the "I'm going to the nuthouse" way, just depending on her mood. She has grown astoundingly in the last couple months -- we even had a stranger comment on her being a "big girl" the other day. She really is taking on the look more of a child, than a baby. It's been an amazing transformation. Not much in the way of new physical milestones; she still won't walk unassisted, and those front teeth are still almost completely hidden. But she LOVES to say "Dodo" (her combination of "dog" and "Hobo") and she gabs and gabs at us all the time.
I'm feeling good -- starting to feel Gus (that's what I'm trying to call the new baby) bumping around in there. I've gained at least three pounds in the last 2 weeks but I admit it is VERY difficult to find time to eat dinner each evening. I busted out my first maternity shirt at work today -- it feels really, really good not to have some belly poking out from under my regular shirts. And thanks to some extremely generous loaners from Carol and N. Watson, I'll be one of the best-dressed pregnant women in town. That's important to me, you know. ;)
We're planning a Halloween party at our house on Sunday 10/30 -- if you didn't get an evite, please email me and I'll send one to you. I promise it wasn't a deliberate slight; my pregnant brain is operating at about 35% capacity right now. Oh, yeah, and I lost my cell phone again.
Lucy is cracking us up every day, as usual -- either in the funny way, or in the "I'm going to the nuthouse" way, just depending on her mood. She has grown astoundingly in the last couple months -- we even had a stranger comment on her being a "big girl" the other day. She really is taking on the look more of a child, than a baby. It's been an amazing transformation. Not much in the way of new physical milestones; she still won't walk unassisted, and those front teeth are still almost completely hidden. But she LOVES to say "Dodo" (her combination of "dog" and "Hobo") and she gabs and gabs at us all the time.
I'm feeling good -- starting to feel Gus (that's what I'm trying to call the new baby) bumping around in there. I've gained at least three pounds in the last 2 weeks but I admit it is VERY difficult to find time to eat dinner each evening. I busted out my first maternity shirt at work today -- it feels really, really good not to have some belly poking out from under my regular shirts. And thanks to some extremely generous loaners from Carol and N. Watson, I'll be one of the best-dressed pregnant women in town. That's important to me, you know. ;)
We're planning a Halloween party at our house on Sunday 10/30 -- if you didn't get an evite, please email me and I'll send one to you. I promise it wasn't a deliberate slight; my pregnant brain is operating at about 35% capacity right now. Oh, yeah, and I lost my cell phone again.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Albatross -- Week 5 Update
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Albatross that day
We’d been “ten-runned” more often than we’d really like to say
Our injuries ran rampant and our muscles all were wailing
We could have writ a sonnet about all the ways we’re ailing:
(There’s Alley Joel’s eyes, of course, and his bride Cara’s neck…
And Pudwell’s diabetes, which he bravely keeps in check…
With Crazy-legs’ hip all askew and brother James just missing…
And Meg suffering from effects of JG’s hugs and kissing.)
We didn’t have much confidence, no boasting did you hear;
We were not sure if we’d be glad – or crying in our beer.
We started Game 1 at the plate, and much to our surprise,
We’d no idea how the sun would burn our tender eyes.
When Lisa was still running late, and her turn came to bat
We squinted, stared and rubbed our eyes: “Great goodness, who is that?”
‘Twas Mary’s mom, and as it goes, she’s Lisa’s mom as well
Thank all the heavens she was there to fill in for a spell.
The game, it plodded right along, our defense fairly true.
We patched together several runs with tape and mud and glue.
Then from the blue, a short fly ball, out to right-center field
And here comes JG trucking in, his body like a shield –
Into the grass he flung himself – our shouts he sure did hear:
He rolled; he stood, and held aloft a perfect blue-stitched sphere.
And though he, and that other Joel, did bash it o’er the wall
The bout was lost – and yet there was one more game of softball
We carried our belongings far across the dewy grass
Just hoping that this other team’d refrain from kicking ass.
We saw the purple socks, we saw the orange pants of SWAT
The pitcher’s cute but truth be told, they weren’t all that hot.
And then a crash, a burst of light – a clang of angel chimes
And in one magic inning, we scored 10 fantastic times.
Jean made some crazy circus catches; Kevin made one too—
But then our defense went and rolled itself in stinky poo.
And then the moment did arise for us to seize the day
To carpe diem, grab the carp, however you will say…
But there, we had it in our hands, and sue me if I lie…
Oh who’d have thought the dang-ed game would finish in a tie?
Oh somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright
(And let’s hope it’s not in the eyes of fielders on the right)
Oh somewhere children laugh and play and hide each other’s shoes...
But we are joyful Albatri – PETE’S SAKES, WE DIDN’T LOSE!!
We’d been “ten-runned” more often than we’d really like to say
Our injuries ran rampant and our muscles all were wailing
We could have writ a sonnet about all the ways we’re ailing:
(There’s Alley Joel’s eyes, of course, and his bride Cara’s neck…
And Pudwell’s diabetes, which he bravely keeps in check…
With Crazy-legs’ hip all askew and brother James just missing…
And Meg suffering from effects of JG’s hugs and kissing.)
We didn’t have much confidence, no boasting did you hear;
We were not sure if we’d be glad – or crying in our beer.
We started Game 1 at the plate, and much to our surprise,
We’d no idea how the sun would burn our tender eyes.
When Lisa was still running late, and her turn came to bat
We squinted, stared and rubbed our eyes: “Great goodness, who is that?”
‘Twas Mary’s mom, and as it goes, she’s Lisa’s mom as well
Thank all the heavens she was there to fill in for a spell.
The game, it plodded right along, our defense fairly true.
We patched together several runs with tape and mud and glue.
Then from the blue, a short fly ball, out to right-center field
And here comes JG trucking in, his body like a shield –
Into the grass he flung himself – our shouts he sure did hear:
He rolled; he stood, and held aloft a perfect blue-stitched sphere.
And though he, and that other Joel, did bash it o’er the wall
The bout was lost – and yet there was one more game of softball
We carried our belongings far across the dewy grass
Just hoping that this other team’d refrain from kicking ass.
We saw the purple socks, we saw the orange pants of SWAT
The pitcher’s cute but truth be told, they weren’t all that hot.
And then a crash, a burst of light – a clang of angel chimes
And in one magic inning, we scored 10 fantastic times.
Jean made some crazy circus catches; Kevin made one too—
But then our defense went and rolled itself in stinky poo.
And then the moment did arise for us to seize the day
To carpe diem, grab the carp, however you will say…
But there, we had it in our hands, and sue me if I lie…
Oh who’d have thought the dang-ed game would finish in a tie?
Oh somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright
(And let’s hope it’s not in the eyes of fielders on the right)
Oh somewhere children laugh and play and hide each other’s shoes...
But we are joyful Albatri – PETE’S SAKES, WE DIDN’T LOSE!!
Thursday, September 15, 2005
I'm no political commentator, but...
1. ...this item struck me as funny:
No Smiling for Passport Photos in Germany
Those crazy Germans. Always a laugh riot.
2. ...can we talk about William Rehnquist a bit? The man was what, 114 years old? Obviously dying of cancer? Why on earth would he insist upon maintaining his position as Chief Justice of the highest court in the United States? Couldn't anyone have convinced him it was in the best interest of everyone involved if he just step down, enjoy a few quiet months or weeks at home, relax a little, and reflect on his own legacy before heading up to the big bench in the sky? Me, I'd like to take a while at the end of my life to celebrate life's pleasures and encircle myself with the love of my family and the memories I've made. But I guess that's why people like him get to be Chief Justice, while people like me just linger in Cubicle Hell forever. And really, look at that face. Is that the face of someone who'd derive any bliss from tipping his chair back, sipping on a fuzzy navel and flipping through old family photo albums?
By the bye, we just decided this morning that we're going to Chicago this weekend to celebrate Julie Witt's 30th birthday. See? We're CRAZY! Spontaneous! Fun-loving! It feels like the year 2000 again!
No Smiling for Passport Photos in Germany
Those crazy Germans. Always a laugh riot.
2. ...can we talk about William Rehnquist a bit? The man was what, 114 years old? Obviously dying of cancer? Why on earth would he insist upon maintaining his position as Chief Justice of the highest court in the United States? Couldn't anyone have convinced him it was in the best interest of everyone involved if he just step down, enjoy a few quiet months or weeks at home, relax a little, and reflect on his own legacy before heading up to the big bench in the sky? Me, I'd like to take a while at the end of my life to celebrate life's pleasures and encircle myself with the love of my family and the memories I've made. But I guess that's why people like him get to be Chief Justice, while people like me just linger in Cubicle Hell forever. And really, look at that face. Is that the face of someone who'd derive any bliss from tipping his chair back, sipping on a fuzzy navel and flipping through old family photo albums?
By the bye, we just decided this morning that we're going to Chicago this weekend to celebrate Julie Witt's 30th birthday. See? We're CRAZY! Spontaneous! Fun-loving! It feels like the year 2000 again!
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
OK no 12-month photos
Sorry, I can't make it work -- probbly because the photog saved them so I wouldn't pirate them. Which makes sense. OK! Well things are good this week. Well, today anyway. Monday night Lu decided not to sleep but to whine and cry all night -- My Hero Joel stayed up with her and eventually gave her some Baby Tylenol. We figure it's GOT to be those choppers coming in! Really, we can actually feel the sharp edge of one now. They're going to be nice, big, possibly equine front teeth and I'm terrified it's going to change her look entirely. That is, unless it changes her to look more like me. MUAhahahaaa.
We *think* Lucy is starting to say "Dodo" for Hobo these days. It is SO hilarious listening to her jibber-jabber. She has these huge, long, involved conversations with the bathroom door (and it's amazing how she never cries when she rams the door into her OWN foot).
I am about to bust open a Ding-Dong and I am VERY much looking forward to it.
We *think* Lucy is starting to say "Dodo" for Hobo these days. It is SO hilarious listening to her jibber-jabber. She has these huge, long, involved conversations with the bathroom door (and it's amazing how she never cries when she rams the door into her OWN foot).
I am about to bust open a Ding-Dong and I am VERY much looking forward to it.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Albatross -- Week 4 Recap
Once upon a time, there was a softball team. This team was young, and strapping, and energetic, and... happy. We were happy. And occasionally victorious.
But the season ended, and we went back to our young/strappy/energized lives, and we felt like something was missing. Some team members wisely realized that this something was softball, for Pete's sakes, and went on to play on other teams... or coach... or simply and patiently wait it out until the next season could arrive.
But the rest of us... ah, the rest of us. We grew restless in the off-season, and we sat around and stared at the walls, and thought: Where did we go wrong? What can fill this hole in our hearts? What can soothe the savage beast that roars just under our young and strapping and energetic flesh? Ah! I know! We must need a baby!
So babies we conceived, and babies we had. Boy babies, girl babies... well, girl baby anyway. And those of us who did not have babies? We got married, or engaged, so that some day we could have babies without that pesky social stigma.
And the babies are cute, and the spouses wonderful, but gol' if they don't take a lot of energy to maintain. The diapers! The crawling! The screaming! (And that's just the husbands! Yuk, yuk.) And all that energy has to come from somewhere, and I hate to say it, but... I fear it has come from our defense. Let's face it, we're not the impenetrable wall, the well-oiled machine, the sheer tour de force we may have been a mere 24 months ago.
So there's that. Not to mention the injuries plaguing our marriage- and baby-wracked bodies, and we're a sorry heap of humanity indeed. But! Does the Phoenix not rise from its own ashes?? Does the airline industry not pull itself up by its own plucky bootstraps after the terror of September 11?? Does Terry Mulholland not make a miraculous annual September comeback?? Oh, dear, I've gone too far.
So! We cobble together a team of brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and in-laws and outlaws. Of K(C)aras and Watsons and Vanyos and Gronaus and Ryans and Pats and Joels and people whose nicknames could be K-Matt and... er, one guy named Scott Pudwell. And we drag these pathetic, lost selves to the ballpark every week, and we smile and we feel happy to be out under the lights on a beautiful late-summer evening, and we HIT. Holy Moses, do we hit!! We hit and we run and we run and we hit and THAT, my friends, was a beautiful thing. And you can keep your silver and your gold and your league trophies and your first basemen who can do the splits and your sluggers wearing jazz pants... I will content myself with the Beauty.
See ya next week. :)
But the season ended, and we went back to our young/strappy/energized lives, and we felt like something was missing. Some team members wisely realized that this something was softball, for Pete's sakes, and went on to play on other teams... or coach... or simply and patiently wait it out until the next season could arrive.
But the rest of us... ah, the rest of us. We grew restless in the off-season, and we sat around and stared at the walls, and thought: Where did we go wrong? What can fill this hole in our hearts? What can soothe the savage beast that roars just under our young and strapping and energetic flesh? Ah! I know! We must need a baby!
So babies we conceived, and babies we had. Boy babies, girl babies... well, girl baby anyway. And those of us who did not have babies? We got married, or engaged, so that some day we could have babies without that pesky social stigma.
And the babies are cute, and the spouses wonderful, but gol' if they don't take a lot of energy to maintain. The diapers! The crawling! The screaming! (And that's just the husbands! Yuk, yuk.) And all that energy has to come from somewhere, and I hate to say it, but... I fear it has come from our defense. Let's face it, we're not the impenetrable wall, the well-oiled machine, the sheer tour de force we may have been a mere 24 months ago.
So there's that. Not to mention the injuries plaguing our marriage- and baby-wracked bodies, and we're a sorry heap of humanity indeed. But! Does the Phoenix not rise from its own ashes?? Does the airline industry not pull itself up by its own plucky bootstraps after the terror of September 11?? Does Terry Mulholland not make a miraculous annual September comeback?? Oh, dear, I've gone too far.
So! We cobble together a team of brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and in-laws and outlaws. Of K(C)aras and Watsons and Vanyos and Gronaus and Ryans and Pats and Joels and people whose nicknames could be K-Matt and... er, one guy named Scott Pudwell. And we drag these pathetic, lost selves to the ballpark every week, and we smile and we feel happy to be out under the lights on a beautiful late-summer evening, and we HIT. Holy Moses, do we hit!! We hit and we run and we run and we hit and THAT, my friends, was a beautiful thing. And you can keep your silver and your gold and your league trophies and your first basemen who can do the splits and your sluggers wearing jazz pants... I will content myself with the Beauty.
See ya next week. :)
Friday, September 02, 2005
Albatross Week 3
Apologies from Meg: this entry was written last Friday but due to red tape surrounding the Labor Day holiday, is just being published today.
A guest blog by the President of the United States of America, GWB.
Sincerely,
GWB
A guest blog by the President of the United States of America, GWB.
My fellow Albatri,
A great tragedy has occurred, and I'm not talkin' about the horrors down in the great state of New Orleans... nor am I talkin' about the umpiring at last night's games, although that was an atrocity-ness of pretty epic proportions as well. No, friends, I'm talking about the fact that our Albatross was slaughtered twice despite playing some damn decent ball.
As I was flying over Roseville Central Park field #4 last night, on my way to flying over the disaster in Missisississsippissis... I mean, down south there, and I WAS planning to get out of my helicopter and walk around the area that Hurricane Katariney hit, but it's darn scary down there, I mean, there are so many PEOPLE and they're all starving and dehydrated and someone said something about SEWAGE, and there's just so much WET that I think I'll probably just fly over it all instead; I'm sure I'll be able to see it just fine from the chopper, you know? Heh heh.
Anyways, so I'm flying over Roseville and there, below me like a beacon on a cool fall evening, what did I see? I saw A Thousand Points of Light, my friends. I saw Karen "Trashtalker" Smiley fallin' flat on her face pickin' up a ball.. and comin' up laughin'. I saw Cara "I can't believe I'm finally getting rid of 'Wuertz' and trading it in for 'Christopherson'; is there no justice??" Wuertz throw her glove up to her face in a self-protective maneuver and pluck a screaming line-drive right out of thin air. I saw four home runs, all by fellows named Joel. I saw Crazylegs Watson turning a good solid Texas-league single into a TRIPLE, by God.
Sincerely,
GWB
Monday, August 29, 2005
Anecdotes from the 1/2 Story
50% goose down, 50% giggling husband
So I trudge upstairs on Saturday night after a lovely evening shower (nothing like showering at night for a good clean night's sleep!), anxiously anticipating crawling into freshly-laundered sheets and resting my head on freshly-laundered pillowcases. I'd sent Joel up ahead to make the bed with said sheets, a task which included the sometimes-onerous task of putting the duvet cover back on the comforter. And I'd taken a nice, long shower so I knew he'd have plenty of time to get the bed made.
So I round the corner at the top of the stairs, only to see Joel's upside-down head peering at me from INSIDE the duvet cover.
"This is harder than it looks," he says, still upside-down.
Yup, he'd crawled inside the duvet cover, comforter in hand, to try to make the dang things fit together... and thought it might work to push the corners in with his toes while holding the opposite corner with his hands... and gotten lost amid the yards and yards of white and blue fabric.
I'm not really sure how he got out -- I was laughing too hard.
Whoops, there goes gravity
Argh! I dropped the baby last Wednesday. OK, she actually fell but it was totally my fault so I'm calling it a drop. I had her upstairs while I was changing clothes after work, and she's so FAST I didn't want her just crawling around up there because the stairs are right around the corner, and very steep. So I put her on the bed... bad idea. I turned away for seriously one second and THUMP she'd slipped right off the edge, forehead first. She screamed like a banshee -- fortunately, everything I read said that if she was screaming that loud she was probably totally fine. Thank goodness Jean the Nurse was coming over and was able to proclaim Lucy concussion-free almost immediately. Man, what a terrible moment in a mother's life. Lucy has bonked her head on much harder surfaces before -- she tips over in her crib a lot, and toodles right into walls sometimes, but this was the first time she'd actually fallen. Well, lesson learned.
So I trudge upstairs on Saturday night after a lovely evening shower (nothing like showering at night for a good clean night's sleep!), anxiously anticipating crawling into freshly-laundered sheets and resting my head on freshly-laundered pillowcases. I'd sent Joel up ahead to make the bed with said sheets, a task which included the sometimes-onerous task of putting the duvet cover back on the comforter. And I'd taken a nice, long shower so I knew he'd have plenty of time to get the bed made.
So I round the corner at the top of the stairs, only to see Joel's upside-down head peering at me from INSIDE the duvet cover.
"This is harder than it looks," he says, still upside-down.
Yup, he'd crawled inside the duvet cover, comforter in hand, to try to make the dang things fit together... and thought it might work to push the corners in with his toes while holding the opposite corner with his hands... and gotten lost amid the yards and yards of white and blue fabric.
I'm not really sure how he got out -- I was laughing too hard.
Whoops, there goes gravity
Argh! I dropped the baby last Wednesday. OK, she actually fell but it was totally my fault so I'm calling it a drop. I had her upstairs while I was changing clothes after work, and she's so FAST I didn't want her just crawling around up there because the stairs are right around the corner, and very steep. So I put her on the bed... bad idea. I turned away for seriously one second and THUMP she'd slipped right off the edge, forehead first. She screamed like a banshee -- fortunately, everything I read said that if she was screaming that loud she was probably totally fine. Thank goodness Jean the Nurse was coming over and was able to proclaim Lucy concussion-free almost immediately. Man, what a terrible moment in a mother's life. Lucy has bonked her head on much harder surfaces before -- she tips over in her crib a lot, and toodles right into walls sometimes, but this was the first time she'd actually fallen. Well, lesson learned.
Friday, August 26, 2005
The slow and steady climb
For those of you concerned about my health these days, I just went and sat on the postal meter we have here at work that can weigh up to 150 lbs and which I think I'm the only one who knows about, and I believe I have gained at least two and possibly three pounds! (It's hard to tell, there wasn't time to remove my shoes (which are not real heavy) before someone came into the hallway.) So everyone be proud of me, okay?
Albatross Game Recap - Week 2
Well, it wasn't real pleasant for the Albatross out there last night. We managed not to score one whole run in two entire games -- of course, it helped that the games were only 5 innings long apiece, since we keep getting slaughtered.
Aside: I really prefer the term "slaughter rule" to "10-run rule" or, in our case, "15-run rule". It just has a much more dramatic ring to it, don't you think?
We didn't really get off to a good start, I have to say -- despite my best efforts at being All Things to All People, it wasn't really feasible for me to work a full day, run home/change clothes/pack diaper and food bags, pick up Lucy, run up to happy hour for a friend going on a leave from work, and still make it to the game on time. I got to the game OK but then had to make the 200-yard dash from the parking lot to the field, toting:
- Lucy in her stroller
- Lucy's diaper/toy/blanket bag
- Lucy's pack-n-play (for you nonparents, the sucker weighs about 40 lbs, I think)
- my bat bag (which was holding four bats)
- a large brown paper grocery bag containing Lucy's food
- a large brown paper grocery bag containing the waffle fries I hoped to eat for dinner
- my purse
That's a LOT for one three-months-pregnant person to carry, don't you think? I assure you it is. Anyway, I get there pretty much RIGHT at game time. And one of our girls hasn't arrived yet, and the rest of our teammates, bless their hearts, are sort of standing around with lost-puppy-dog looks on their faces. It was like gazing at nine very large, bipodal and significantly less-hairy Hobos. Who could blame them? I've been such a control-freak, they were probably petrified of the unleash of sarcasm they might receive for trying to take charge. I will have to do more to reassure them that will not happen. :)
Somehow we managed to bat, and get out in the field, and thank GOODNESS for the two random "extra girls" who showed up, since Becky injured her quads; we were miraculously able to at least put some warm bodies out there. And I have to say, our defense wasn't dreadful at all -- several nice plays were made. And a few people actually got hits, which unfortunately did not materialize into runs. But after I got home and put a very sleepy Lucy to bed, I cracked into the fresh new Sports Illustrated that had appeared in my mailbox that afternoon, and I was reminded how much I really do love sports. The rush of adrenaline from a sudden sprint, the feeling of fresh outdoor air in your lungs, the highs and the lows -- it really lets you know you're alive.
Anyway, I finally got to talk to Joel (he's been up in Brainerd for three days at a company conference) and Lucy was a doll this morning and we had a great thunderstorm and the world is new. AND it's Friday!
Aside: I really prefer the term "slaughter rule" to "10-run rule" or, in our case, "15-run rule". It just has a much more dramatic ring to it, don't you think?
We didn't really get off to a good start, I have to say -- despite my best efforts at being All Things to All People, it wasn't really feasible for me to work a full day, run home/change clothes/pack diaper and food bags, pick up Lucy, run up to happy hour for a friend going on a leave from work, and still make it to the game on time. I got to the game OK but then had to make the 200-yard dash from the parking lot to the field, toting:
- Lucy in her stroller
- Lucy's diaper/toy/blanket bag
- Lucy's pack-n-play (for you nonparents, the sucker weighs about 40 lbs, I think)
- my bat bag (which was holding four bats)
- a large brown paper grocery bag containing Lucy's food
- a large brown paper grocery bag containing the waffle fries I hoped to eat for dinner
- my purse
That's a LOT for one three-months-pregnant person to carry, don't you think? I assure you it is. Anyway, I get there pretty much RIGHT at game time. And one of our girls hasn't arrived yet, and the rest of our teammates, bless their hearts, are sort of standing around with lost-puppy-dog looks on their faces. It was like gazing at nine very large, bipodal and significantly less-hairy Hobos. Who could blame them? I've been such a control-freak, they were probably petrified of the unleash of sarcasm they might receive for trying to take charge. I will have to do more to reassure them that will not happen. :)
Somehow we managed to bat, and get out in the field, and thank GOODNESS for the two random "extra girls" who showed up, since Becky injured her quads; we were miraculously able to at least put some warm bodies out there. And I have to say, our defense wasn't dreadful at all -- several nice plays were made. And a few people actually got hits, which unfortunately did not materialize into runs. But after I got home and put a very sleepy Lucy to bed, I cracked into the fresh new Sports Illustrated that had appeared in my mailbox that afternoon, and I was reminded how much I really do love sports. The rush of adrenaline from a sudden sprint, the feeling of fresh outdoor air in your lungs, the highs and the lows -- it really lets you know you're alive.
Anyway, I finally got to talk to Joel (he's been up in Brainerd for three days at a company conference) and Lucy was a doll this morning and we had a great thunderstorm and the world is new. AND it's Friday!
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
You know you've spent too much time being pregnant when...
So I saw this headline at yahoo! news:
Stewart Appears in Court in Breach Suit
And the first thing I thought was: "What on earth kind of suit was he wearing? How do you wear a suit upside-down??"
Right. I need to get a LIFE.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Late August
Oi, it's been a crazy couple weeks here!
We're over the initial shock of the REAL PREGNANCY... I think... and are now swinging into our late-summer routine. My parents and my aunt rented a cottage on a lake in Wisconsin a couple weeks ago and we spent 4 nice days with them -- and then they kept Lu for an extra three days! It was a really, really nice break (her first overnight babysitters) and I wish I could say I was delighted to get her back on Saturday, but instead her return unleashed this overwhelming feeling that I am trapped in this life I have chosen and that I'm going to be miserable forever... obviously, I have some trouble with long-range vision.
I talked to my mom -- she promised that when they get to be adults, it's all worth it and so I guess I can manage another 18-20 years of misery. Just kidding... kind of. Lu's at a tough stage where she is realizing there are choices and options out there (carrots or strawberries? crawl or toodle? dog food or mom's shoes?) and yet she still can't make her wishes known. So there's a lot of whining, spurts of crying, bursts of wiggling. And my hormones rage on.
This week's been better. A little more energy and a lot more food have been keeping my spirits up. But it is a struggle, realizing that when I'm done with a long day (or week) of work, I don't have the option of crashing out on the sofa with a bowl of cereal, or even perusing my own mail. I am selfish and those little pleasures used to be vital to my happiness... but happiness is a luxury I just can't afford right now. So we downshift into survival mode, and away we go. See you on the other side!
We're over the initial shock of the REAL PREGNANCY... I think... and are now swinging into our late-summer routine. My parents and my aunt rented a cottage on a lake in Wisconsin a couple weeks ago and we spent 4 nice days with them -- and then they kept Lu for an extra three days! It was a really, really nice break (her first overnight babysitters) and I wish I could say I was delighted to get her back on Saturday, but instead her return unleashed this overwhelming feeling that I am trapped in this life I have chosen and that I'm going to be miserable forever... obviously, I have some trouble with long-range vision.
I talked to my mom -- she promised that when they get to be adults, it's all worth it and so I guess I can manage another 18-20 years of misery. Just kidding... kind of. Lu's at a tough stage where she is realizing there are choices and options out there (carrots or strawberries? crawl or toodle? dog food or mom's shoes?) and yet she still can't make her wishes known. So there's a lot of whining, spurts of crying, bursts of wiggling. And my hormones rage on.
This week's been better. A little more energy and a lot more food have been keeping my spirits up. But it is a struggle, realizing that when I'm done with a long day (or week) of work, I don't have the option of crashing out on the sofa with a bowl of cereal, or even perusing my own mail. I am selfish and those little pleasures used to be vital to my happiness... but happiness is a luxury I just can't afford right now. So we downshift into survival mode, and away we go. See you on the other side!
Friday, August 12, 2005
12-week checkup!
So the new little one is fine. Heart pumping away. Cute photo of the Old Little One from a couple weekends ago at the Science Museum.
So, any big plans this weekend?
You know how, when you're pregnant, some foods make you nauseated? Well, they do. And while I'm apparently out of the food-aversion stage, I seem to have developed an aversion to a few choice phrases, which unfortunately happen to be favorites in the cubicle inferno where I spend 40 hours a week.
"Any big plans this weekend?" Arrrgh! Do you really want to hear how I plan to sleep until 7:00, shuffle downstairs, pee, let out the dog, feed the dog, try to encourage the very-sad-looking dog to eat his food, c'mon boy, go get it! Retrieve the baby, make a bottle, try to encourage the very-sleepy-looking baby to drink her bottle, c'mon, Lucy, yummy milk! I mean, really, this is blindingly boring for ME, and it's MY life. You do not want to hear about it, trust me.
As I type this, I realize that you, dear reader, are probably thinking it'd be hilarious to say to me "So, any big plans this weekend?"... and so you will. And just know that you are VERY original. :)
"Any big plans this weekend?" Arrrgh! Do you really want to hear how I plan to sleep until 7:00, shuffle downstairs, pee, let out the dog, feed the dog, try to encourage the very-sad-looking dog to eat his food, c'mon boy, go get it! Retrieve the baby, make a bottle, try to encourage the very-sleepy-looking baby to drink her bottle, c'mon, Lucy, yummy milk! I mean, really, this is blindingly boring for ME, and it's MY life. You do not want to hear about it, trust me.
As I type this, I realize that you, dear reader, are probably thinking it'd be hilarious to say to me "So, any big plans this weekend?"... and so you will. And just know that you are VERY original. :)
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Monday, August 08, 2005
Wha-wha-wha-WHAAAAAT!!??!
A lesson in life.
Part I
Most of you will have some knowledge of what's been going on with me the last month or so. Positive pregnancy test on July 6, ultrasound on the 7th -- nurse practitioner tells us there is a sac but "no baby" and my body will pass the tissue on its own. Fast forward one month: I'm still tired all the time, and my body has passed a whole lot of nuthin'. I'm getting anxious, especially after repeated calls to said nurse practitioner have told me nothing except "sometimes it takes a month... there's no risk in just waiting it out... blah blah blah."
Part II
I am finally able to speak to my Real Doctor on August 3. She tells me to make an appointment to see her on Friday the 5th, just to do a quick check before we schedule the D&C. So she checks me, and says, extremely calmly: "Okay, I'm going to sneak you into an ultrasound to check one more thing. Don't leave here today without seeing me again."
So I go into the ultrasound, and the tech works me up. As soon as the screen pops up, she starts laughing. Laughing. So I demand to know what in my uterus could POSSIBLY be so hilarious, and she says:
"There's a very alive baby in there."
What.
WHAT.
WHAT!?!?
"Look, the heart's just beating away. Look!"
Well, she might have said more after that. I was far too busy trying to come up with variations on the three or four mild expletives in my vocabulary... well, I know I wore "HOLY CRAP" and "OH MY GOD" right out. There were kleenexes and tears and sniffles and finally my doctor (who I swear was lurking outside the door the whole time) finally busted in with a HUGE grin on her face. She hugged my leg and wished me well and told me to start taking vitamins and to make my prenatal appointments. The tech printed me out a bunch of ultrasound photos and when I asked HOW that nurse practitioner could have missed a whole PERSON inside of me, she explained that that is what happens when you have someone who's not an ultrasound tech, doing an ultrasound. Job security for those techs, I tell you what.
I headed up to the front desk, where the receptionist (who is there every time I am in) was all "What can I do for you?" and I said "Well, I need to schedule many, many OB appointments because apparently I'm pregnant!" With a dramatic flair I tossed the photos on her desk. You should have heard the squealing! She called over a couple other nurses or assistants to collude on the best way to tell Joel... and to round up as many free baby-product samples as they could find. I tried to tell them that with an 11-month-old at home, my house is already overrun with baby products and that presenting Joel with "a rattle" would in NO way make him think there was another one on the way -- on the contrary, he would most likely think "Hmm, Meg must really want me to hold this... rattle."
Part III
Now, what I love about my clinic is that everyone there is almost more excited than I am. I think they specialize in infertility, so they take a viable pregnancy as The Best News Ever. When you've got five medical professionals with such obvious delight in their eyes, faces, and voices... well, it's impossible not to join right in. So whereas a month ago, I was not taking the thought of having another baby as particularly good news, on that day, hit with such a walloping blow, well all I could do was grin.
Part IV
I drive home in shock, pick up Lucy from day care (the big sister!! Manny Tanner!!) and get home in time to catch Jean also arriving at our house as we all go away from the weekend. I quickly scribble "Daddy, I'm going to be a big sister!" on the back of one of the u/s photos and attempt to press it into her teeny fist so she can hand it to Joel when we get inside. It doesn't *quite* work that smoothly, but there are several seconds of stunned silence when the news is broken. And then large, silly grins. And maybe a tear or two.
And the fun begins! ...
Part I
Most of you will have some knowledge of what's been going on with me the last month or so. Positive pregnancy test on July 6, ultrasound on the 7th -- nurse practitioner tells us there is a sac but "no baby" and my body will pass the tissue on its own. Fast forward one month: I'm still tired all the time, and my body has passed a whole lot of nuthin'. I'm getting anxious, especially after repeated calls to said nurse practitioner have told me nothing except "sometimes it takes a month... there's no risk in just waiting it out... blah blah blah."
Part II
I am finally able to speak to my Real Doctor on August 3. She tells me to make an appointment to see her on Friday the 5th, just to do a quick check before we schedule the D&C. So she checks me, and says, extremely calmly: "Okay, I'm going to sneak you into an ultrasound to check one more thing. Don't leave here today without seeing me again."
So I go into the ultrasound, and the tech works me up. As soon as the screen pops up, she starts laughing. Laughing. So I demand to know what in my uterus could POSSIBLY be so hilarious, and she says:
"There's a very alive baby in there."
What.
WHAT.
WHAT!?!?
"Look, the heart's just beating away. Look!"
Well, she might have said more after that. I was far too busy trying to come up with variations on the three or four mild expletives in my vocabulary... well, I know I wore "HOLY CRAP" and "OH MY GOD" right out. There were kleenexes and tears and sniffles and finally my doctor (who I swear was lurking outside the door the whole time) finally busted in with a HUGE grin on her face. She hugged my leg and wished me well and told me to start taking vitamins and to make my prenatal appointments. The tech printed me out a bunch of ultrasound photos and when I asked HOW that nurse practitioner could have missed a whole PERSON inside of me, she explained that that is what happens when you have someone who's not an ultrasound tech, doing an ultrasound. Job security for those techs, I tell you what.
I headed up to the front desk, where the receptionist (who is there every time I am in) was all "What can I do for you?" and I said "Well, I need to schedule many, many OB appointments because apparently I'm pregnant!" With a dramatic flair I tossed the photos on her desk. You should have heard the squealing! She called over a couple other nurses or assistants to collude on the best way to tell Joel... and to round up as many free baby-product samples as they could find. I tried to tell them that with an 11-month-old at home, my house is already overrun with baby products and that presenting Joel with "a rattle" would in NO way make him think there was another one on the way -- on the contrary, he would most likely think "Hmm, Meg must really want me to hold this... rattle."
Part III
Now, what I love about my clinic is that everyone there is almost more excited than I am. I think they specialize in infertility, so they take a viable pregnancy as The Best News Ever. When you've got five medical professionals with such obvious delight in their eyes, faces, and voices... well, it's impossible not to join right in. So whereas a month ago, I was not taking the thought of having another baby as particularly good news, on that day, hit with such a walloping blow, well all I could do was grin.
Part IV
I drive home in shock, pick up Lucy from day care (the big sister!! Manny Tanner!!) and get home in time to catch Jean also arriving at our house as we all go away from the weekend. I quickly scribble "Daddy, I'm going to be a big sister!" on the back of one of the u/s photos and attempt to press it into her teeny fist so she can hand it to Joel when we get inside. It doesn't *quite* work that smoothly, but there are several seconds of stunned silence when the news is broken. And then large, silly grins. And maybe a tear or two.
And the fun begins! ...
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Welcome to Suburbia
We bought a mini-van!! YESSS! We are so, so excited. I've complained enough, I think, about how PAINFUL it's been to squeeze into the Corolla (which in addition to being a SUBCOMPACT car is also excruciatingly dirty, which of course is no one's fault by my own) for road trips... and no longer. It's a 2005 Mazda MPV, it's silver... it's pretty.
I feel like I haven't seen my baby for three days... softball on Monday and car-shopping Tues. and Wed. Just terrible. I'm sure she hasn't started walking independently or grown another tooth or anything, but I have to say I haven't fed her anything other than her bottles and Cheerios since the weekend. It's Thursday. Yikes. (I mean, she is GETTING other food, I just haven't been the one putting it in her mouth.) I looked at her standing up in her crib this morning and I think she's grown about three inches in the last week. She is exiting Baby County and entering Toddler Land, and it's happening really fast.
Long trip to IL planned this weekend for the Ryan Family Picnic (31st annual, I think?). The Ray Ryans are supposed to be wearing lime green. I know Lucy is set, but Joel and I might be doing some last-minute shirt-shopping.
I feel like I haven't seen my baby for three days... softball on Monday and car-shopping Tues. and Wed. Just terrible. I'm sure she hasn't started walking independently or grown another tooth or anything, but I have to say I haven't fed her anything other than her bottles and Cheerios since the weekend. It's Thursday. Yikes. (I mean, she is GETTING other food, I just haven't been the one putting it in her mouth.) I looked at her standing up in her crib this morning and I think she's grown about three inches in the last week. She is exiting Baby County and entering Toddler Land, and it's happening really fast.
Long trip to IL planned this weekend for the Ryan Family Picnic (31st annual, I think?). The Ray Ryans are supposed to be wearing lime green. I know Lucy is set, but Joel and I might be doing some last-minute shirt-shopping.
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