Day Care Issue #383: Turn Over

We found out on Tuesday that LP's beloved "Obis" (Mr. Otis) will be leaving her day care center effective this Friday. Mr. Otis had hinted that he was leaving last week to move to California, but laughed it off as a joke to me and another mom. Turns out, he is moving, but to North Carolina.

Needless to say, we are devastated. LP loves Mr. Otis. When we sing a song that she learned in school she yells out "Obis! Obis!" as if he owns the ABC or Bumblebee songs. I am guessing that they won't be explaining to the toddlers in LP's classroom that Mr. Otis is leaving and the onus will be on us parents to let them know. Not that LP will understand...until she shows up next week and he doesn't.

Turn over is a common occurrence at every day care center. As I have pointed out before, these folks aren't well compensated for their work. And they do have a hard job. I complain about changing one kid's poopie diapers, can you imagine a whole room full of them?

As Bun's arrival draws every closer (13.5 weeks to go!), the Hoos and I discuss our child care options. We don't like the fact that the teachers are ever-changing at LP's school and it seems that her classroom has been hit particularly hard by illness these past few months, but we keep going back to the reasons we opted to put LP in day care in the first place. I don't think it would be different at any other facility, and to be honest, looking for day care centers is painful, draining, and really, aren't we all more comfortable with the devil we know?

What is a posting about LP's day care if I can't make catty remarks? In addition to Tuesday's letter from Mr. Otis, yesterday we received a memo from the director of the center. Some of the highlights of the letter included:

• "As you may well know we are loosing Mr. Otis" - this makes it sound as if he is being released from the zoo or something.
  
• "We are excepting applications for this position" - Does this mean they aren't hiring? Or are they putting any resumes they receive in an exception pile or something.

I guess you can add illiterate director to the list of day care issues...even though I am guessing it is on there at least 5 other times.

The Hill Gets Steeper

Much has been said in the blog world and the media about the current Democratic presidential primaries, and yet, I still feel this nagging need to comment.

At this point Barack Obama appears to have the momentum to carry him through to his party's nomination. While much has been made about the fact that the candidate from the donkey side of the aisle will make history for being the first African-American or woman to run on a major ticket, I am fascinated by the fact that it appears more likely that we will have an African-American in the White House before we will have a woman. Don't get me wrong, I am not upset by this fact, I am all for progress; I just hear a little bit of my (and probably many other) little girl dreams shattering.

Looking back at history, I should have been more prepared for this reality. The 15th Amendment, codifying the right of citizens to vote regardless of "race, color, or previous condition of servitude" was passed in 1870; the 19th Amendment, allowing women to vote, was passed 50 years later, in 1920.

Not that it was an easy road for African-Americans in the 50 years leading up to the passing of women's suffrage, and many were still denied the right to vote regardless of its constitutionality right up through the 1960s. However, it does appear that Congress, or whomever, was more prepared to see African-Americans actively participate in the political process than women.

This is further demonstrated by the fact that the first African-American in Congress was Joseph Rainey from South Carolina in 1870. In 1916 Jeannette Rankin, Republican from Montana, was the first woman elected to serve in Congress.

I am sure I already lost a lot of readers with the history lesson and I haven't even gotten to my thoughts about why Hillary Clinton is facing such an uphill battle.

Sadly, I think the Working Mom (WM) vs. Stay at Home Mom (SAHM) debate has been ratcheted up a few notches and played out on a national scale. The decades-long arguments between women who choose these two different, but equally noble, challenging and reasonable courses is both heart-breaking and sickening. Women continue to be vilified for working and "leaving someone else to raise their children" and those that stay home are derided as anti-feminist and "pushing back the feminist movement 100 years." (Check out Mommy Wars for attribution on these and similar sentiments).

As much as women want to have it all, in reality, it is impossible. Hillary Clinton and her spouse made choices and sacrifices in raising their daughter, just as the Hoos and I have had to - and will continue to - in raising LP. Similarly, Michelle Obama and her husband had to make decisions that were appropriate for them and their girls. Much has been made about Michelle Obama and her decisions regarding motherhood and how they contrast with Senator Clinton. Michelle Obama is not the candidate, Barack Obama is. Clearly, this is not a fair comparison.

Being a mother is a wonderful, wacky, back-breaking job. And it has made me a better employee, a better wife, and a more qualified global citizen. No one can multi-task like a mom. Few can juggle so many balls while carrying a dozen others the way a mom can. Motherhood is not a yoke we have to bear or destroy. Motherhood is a badge we should be able to wear proudly - and flaunt as qualification. I am not sure that the men or women of the United States see it this way.

A Welcome Addition

Congratulations to my cousin Josh and his wife Padma on the beautiful new addition to the family, Mira. Weighing in at 6 lb, 5 oz, she was born at home and is strong, healthy and gorgeous.

Not to get all fancy on you, but I little Mira is my first first cousin once removed*. And while LP does have other second cousins* on her Daddy's side, this is her first second cousin in the great state of Oregon. Everyone is thrilled.

*All genealogical information deduced from a Wikipedia entry, who knows if it is correct.

Trippin'

I am sure you all are waiting with baited breath to hear all about our family trip to DC. According to the Hoos, LP was an angel in the car. She played with her baby for a while, they sang songs (she now puts in requests, e.g., "Bus!" while rolling her hands = the wheels on the bus; "Sumpin" while holding up one hand = where is Thumpkin), she napped, and they visited Bass Pro Shops. All in all a smooth 5 hour trip.

I actually managed to finish my meetings and walk over to our hotel before the Hoos and LP arrived so I could check us in. This definitely simplified life since it didn't require the Hoos making multiple trips in and out of the hotel while carrying sugar muffin. In case you are wondering, we stay at the Marriott Residence Inn in Rosslyn. For less than $100 a night, we get a suite which has separate bedroom and living rooms, free hot breakfast daily, and is a walk to the Rosslyn metro, various restaurants and our old stomping grounds of the Court House and Clarendon neighborhoods.

We had a really nice time and missed a big horrible snowstorm in Connecticut! We visited the mammal exhibit and insect zoo at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum, we got to meet 2-week old baby Ezra, we checked out the cool photos and live frog exhibit at the National Geographic Museum with our friends the Raks, and we had some nice family time to boot. Of course when we got home, the Hoos had to shovel our driveway, but again, much better than spending the weekend snowed into our house.

Now that we are home we are trying to decide where to go for our next vacation or long weekend. Any ideas of places ideally within driving distance of Connecticut that are fun to visit, family friendly and good destinations for the March/April time frame?

The Art of Guilt

Laying on the guilt is instinctual. I know this because my almost-21-month-old daughter has become an expert. Out of nowhere she will start repeating "I sowy, I sowy" for no apparent reason. We can be driving in the car and the refrain will start coming out of the back seat, or we will be playing in the living room and she will look up at me an say it ever so sweetly.

It kills me. I am concerned that if someone overhears her saying this without provocation they will think I am inflicting some kind of psychological abuse on my baby girl that makes her apologize ALL THE TIME.

Sometimes she does use it instead of "excuse me" and I am pretty sure I taught this to her. Don't we all apologize when we are scootching past someone in the grocery store or similar situation? Why is that? Should I be sorry that I have to ask you to move because you decided to set up shop with your cell phone in the middle of the aisle?

Oddly enough, she doesn't say it as often when it is warranted. Like when she bites or hits Mommy and Daddy. When does discipline start working anyway?

So Not Expected

This is absolutely NOT what Kiki had in mind when she tagged me with a meme. For those too lazy to link over, the instructions read:

1. Pick up the nearest book ( of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag others & post a comment here once you post it to your blog, so I can come see.

Well, the nearest book is The National Audubon Society First Field Guide: Birds. Ever since we put a bird feeder up in our backyard, LP loves birds. She can actually identify a few on sight. As such, we have to find the "Cardna! Cardna!" (cardinal) in this book frequently.

Anyway, as per the instructions:
The bill is yellow. The female's head and back are brown. Length: 9-11".

Okay, DaisyJoMom, Robyn from Mommy Esquire Diaries, Tiffany at Colorado-Mama, your turn!

You Say "Baby", I Say "Tapeworm"

Last week I was feeling pretty good after my doctor's appointment. Bun was doing well and it turned out that despite the fact that I look bigger, I actually weigh less than I did at the same point in my first pregnancy. And then this week I turned into a human consumption machine. Seriously, I can't stop eating.

A small consolation is that Motherhood Maternity came out with these new jeans that have some sort of lycra built into the band that somehow makes my belly look smaller, higher and even more beautiful. All for $16.95. Does life get better than that? And no, I won't post pictures, you have to take my word for it.

Because, really, right now I look better naked than I look in clothes. How often do you hear someone say that? In maternity clothes I get all of these funky bulges and lumps where the various layers cross over each other. Whoever designed "low rider" pants - for pregnant woman or really anyone - should be shot. In the back. As they try to run away. Because they can't get very far. Because the freaking things will keep falling down...

Honestly, I love my pregnant belly. I love being pregnant. I feel ripe and womanly and feminine and (most days, from the neck down) beautiful. But maybe that is because my face is obscured by some type of frosted carbohydrate...

Newfangled

Just because I have a blog doesn't mean I am technically savvy. I have no idea how to download a ring tone to my cell phone (although the wireless companies are getting smart and only giving you cruddy ring tones with your phone, so I might have to figure this out soon); I have only downloaded maybe two songs off the Internet; and I still refuse to watch my favorite TV shows or movies on my computer instead of my television. Although if I miss a show, I will read a recap on televisionwithoutpity or the appropriate web site.

Anyway, my ban on Internet television is starting to lift. But only for web-only shows that are short and sweet - AND FUNNY. I don't have time to waste on crappy television (hello, American Idol, are your ears burning?). I just came across this new web series called "In the Motherhood" which gives short vignettes on the real life of mommies, as played by gorgeous actresses...

The Name Game

The responsibilities associated with becoming a parent start well before delivery. Truth be told they start well before conception. However, for many parents the pressure starts mounting right around the time you come to the realization that you actually have to name the little person growing inside you and that this isn't an easy task.

As you know, the Hoos and I have opted not to find out the gender of Bun. While I wouldn't say this makes our job twice as tough, it does at least require us to have both male and female names at the ready. When I was pregnant with LP, I knew that if we had a girl she would be named for my grandmother. We only needed to come up with a middle name and a boy name. I say "only" but it was still not easy.

This time around we need a new girl name and we need to reevaluate boy names. The Hoos is just starting to warm up to the process. I have had to tell him at least a dozen times that "Waldorf Garchunk" is not a suitable name for a little boy (apologies to anyone out there who has this name, I am sure it fits you perfectly). He was joking, of course, but I have my work cut out for me.

In addition to making up fictitious, ridiculous names, the Hoos likes to lampoon any name I come up with. His comments range from "NO! That is the name of a pudgy kid that eats paste in the corner in nursery school" to acting like a kindergartner and making up juvenile nicknames, i.e., Fat Pat or Hairy Gary.

I have found myself listening closely when other people introduce themselves to see if I like their name. And the Hoos and I might be in the middle of a totally unrelated discussion when one of us throws out a "How about THIS NAME". And I test out names on LP to see a. if she can say it and b. if she "likes" it. In fact, last night I told her a name and I swear she repeated the name and said "I like that." The Hoos heard it too!

Not that we are not looking for validation or recommendations from our friends and family on names. Ultimately our kid will love it or hate it and blame us for any problems regardless. But hopefully, just hopefully, we will pick a winner...And by "winner" I do not mean a name that spends the next 10 years in the Top 10 of the SSA name list.

Taking a Bite Out of Crime

I just got off the phone with Mr. Otis, LP's teacher. He had to call to let me know that there was an "incident" involving four students, one of which was my daughter. And she instigated the whole thing.

The class was lined up to go to gym and LP bit the kid in front of her, who in turn bit the kid in front of them, who then bit the kid in front of them. In total, three children were bitten and four children chomped down. All four children screamed bloody murder.

Apparently the "Don't Bite Your Friends" song from Yo Gabba Gabba has not penetrated LP's psyche. Nor has she realized that when she points to Moo, her cow, and says "No!" in a stern voice, it means the same thing when I do it to her.

Mr. Otis told me everything was okay and he sat LP down and talked to her. "She is smart, so I think she got it." My response, "Otis, I am pretty smart too and even though I understand I am not supposed to do things, I do them anyway sometimes."

I am not really sure how one stops a toddler from biting. She isn't really teething. I do think this is more about communication and getting her own way, but I hope it passes soon. Apologies to the moms of the other kids in LP's class!

Chocolate=LP's Valentine

When I was growing up, my Daddy was always my Valentine. I remember getting a little heart ring from him one year and another year I believe I received a wind-up alligator that played "My Funny Valentine". While Daddy was my Valentine, my grandfather, Poppy, was my secret admirer. For as long as I can remember I would get a small flower basket delivered on Valentine's Day from giver unknown. More likely my grandmother ordered the flowers and did all the work, but when I discovered in my tweener years who was behind the flowers, it didn't make sense to me that my Valentine would be a girl.

Now that LP is a lovely little toddler, it is her turn to have Valentines. The Hoos picked a card up from the two of us for her (even though we forgot to actually give it to her on February 14th...oops), and she got cards in the mail from both sets of grandparents and her great-grandparents. And Will, a boy in her class, gave her a card with a cat on it. Talk about being loved!

And, despite feeling all of this love, at 21 months she is pretty much oblivious to the fake holiday. At least that was until we made Daddy brownies. Now I think Valentine's Day might be her favorite day going forward.

On the Road Again

Earlier this week I got a request to attend a meeting in our Arlington, VA office next week. Despite being pregnant, I do enjoy traveling, and I do want to show my commitment to my job, so I accepted the opportunity as an easy one day trip that would not impact life back home too much.

As you may know from reading this blog, the Hoos and I used to live in Arlington, and we went to school in DC, a five minute metro ride. When I confirmed with the Hoos that the trip wouldn't be a problem, he wondered if perhaps he and LP might join me. We still have friends in the area, and one couple just had a baby that we would love to meet. Plus, DC is a great walking city and a good place to entertain LP. Even if she doesn't look at all of the exhibits in the Smithsonian Natural History museum, I am sure she would love to run around its big open corridors.

With the decision to spend a few days below the Mason-Dixon finalized, we moved on to the logistics. My meeting is from 1pm-5pm. DC is about a 4.5 hour drive without stops. There is no such thing as no stops with a toddler. We laid out our options:

1. Drive down as a family the morning of my meeting. Unless we leave the house at a ridiculously early hour to contend with the stops and potential traffic issues, we would be left stressing about making my meeting on time.
   
2. Drive down together (all the way or part way) the night before. We might get there in time, but we would most likely have a miserable night with LP sleeping in the car, waking up around midnight when we arrive and probably not falling right back to sleep.
3. Amy take the train or fly one way and the Hoos and LP drive down and meet me. Obviously not a problem for me, work pays for my flight or ride, but neither of us has ever driven alone with LP for more than an hour and a half. Without a passenger, there is the challenge of keeping the munchkin satisfied and happy. Even food bribery is difficult when your main job is to have your eyes on the road.

We decided on option 3. I will cab it to the train station the morning of my meeting and catch an Acela Express that gets me into DC at 11:45. The Hoos and LP will leave at whatever time works for them and meet me at the hotel a couple of miles from my office that afternoon. My plan is to pack pre-packaged snacks that the Hoos can open in the front seat and just pass back (e.g., raisins, goldfish single packs) and set him up with multiple water sippy cups since LP throws one when she is done and then complains that she wants more but can't reach it.

We figure if it is a miserable ride down for him, at least it is only one way and he then has a couple of days of vacation to recover for the trip back home. Let us all pray.

PS - Sorry for all of the typos lately, Blogger spell check isn't working. Harrummpf. I bet you all thought I had awesome spelling skills all by myself:)

Vanquished

Praise the Lord! LP's ear infection has been vanquished. It only took four weeks, three antibiotics, seven doctors visits, and one hellish nightmare of a Tuesday afternoon to get to this point.

The weather is cruddy here in Connecticut. It started yesterday afternoon. I already knew I would have to leave work early to get LP to her 4:45 doctor's appointment. The doctor is near home and day care - I work 25 miles (40 minutes on most days) away. Add snow and ice into the mix and despite the fact that I leave at 3:30, I don't get to LP until a little after 5. Fortunately the Hoos alerts the doctor to the fact that I will be late and when I am 5 minutes out from day care I call Mr. Otis and tell him to have my little munchkin ready to go.

I run in, grab LP and hurry back out into the icy parking lot, walking as quickly as possible while trying to avoid ending up on my backside. We get into the car and, at the breakneck speed of 20 miles an hour, race to the doctors office. Suddenly I spot some wild turkeys on the lefthand side of the road, "Look LP, turkeys!" I cry out (she loves animals, "cardinal" is her new favorite word and she actually identifies them, but I digress). "Chicken! Chicken! Chicken!" she yells, pointing, as five more wild turkeys cross the icy road directly in front of my car. She doesn't know how close we came to having turkey for dinner as she continues to scream "Chicken!" the two or so miles to the doc's office.

We finally get to the doctor. Whew! We run in, sign in, and pray that LP's pediatrician hasn't left for the night. I am relieved when the nurse comes to get us, saying "I need to take her temperature." No problem, I am a pro and lay her down and prepare to remove her diaper. Looking down I comment, "Hey, this isn't your diaper" we use Pampers Cruisers and this is some other type, sometimes that happens at day care, I have no idea why. "No problem I say, as long as it is clean." I open it and realize that I just jinxed myself. Even better, in all of the craziness, I don't have the diaper bag. No wipes, no clean diapers...just a toddler with a diaper full of poop. The nurse finds us something she and the cotnainer says are wipes, but they are more like useless moistened tissues. I clean LP off enough for her temperature to be taken and the nurse leaves. Uh...what am I supposed to do now? Let her run around bare ass? Fortunately the nurse left the cabinet under the sink open and I notice generic diapers in who knows what size. I manage to squeeze one onto LP just as the doctor walks in.

Man, am I glad that the ear infection is gone, because otherwise I might have just broken into tears.

Poopy Pants

For some reason LP hates getting her diaper changed. Especially when she has a special delivery. No kid ever likes to sit still, but you would think that getting rid of the little mound under your tush and have a dry diaper would be worth waiting patiently for two minutes. But, no. She twists and squirms and screams and basically makes our lives miserable while we are trying to remove the offending nappy. And let's not even talk about the process of getting a new diaper on.

We have tried bribing her with food. From offering a mishy (marshmallow, a treat usually only reserved for using the potty) after we are done, to giving her food while going through the changing motion.

We have tried bribing her with non-edible treats. "After this you can sit on the potty for as long as you want and Mommy will read you 5 books."

We have tried reasoning. "If you just stay still this will go much quicker and then we can go back to having fun."

Today the Hoos even had her promise that if he changed her downstairs, instead of in her bedroom, she would be good. I guess a baby promise is worth less than a pinky swear...not that she even knows what a "promise" is...

We have had to resort to restraining her as best as possible (while simultaneously trying to change the diaper and avoid getting covered in poop). I hate this. The Hoos hates this. It makes us feel mean and bad and just plain awful. We have no idea how they get her to comply at day care. It isn't every time, but it is at least once a day.

I know, I know she is only 20 months old and if this is as close as we come to a tantrum we should just deal. But it sucks. And we still have to change her...several times...daily.

And Yet...My Arse Grows

Today is another Monday that we sent LP to day care. Once again, being alone in the house makes me highly productive. Especially, I think, my fat cells. Despite the fact that I am going to the doctor today and getting weighed I still felt the need to enjoy mucho mucho carbs, because, well, I could.

Wouldn't it be nice if Mommy junk eating and calorie burning was measured in errands?

Consumed	Calories
Strawberry frosted donut	-10 since consumed while shopping
Onion roll with lunch	-10 from packing, carrying and dropping off clothes to Goodwill an hour before
Rolls at Bertuccis (Sunday lunch)	-10 because sat next to and monitored LP during meal
3 hard pretzels as after-dinner snack	-2, had to clean up crumbs from both me and LP when done
Snapple iced tea	2, burned most while chasing after LP in furniture stores

A Good Dresser is Hard to Find

The Hoos and I spent the weekend furniture shopping. Our bedroom furniture is a random assortment of mismatched IKEA and hand-me-downs. However, we are not looking to get ourselves new furniture, rather we are hoping to get LP a new dresser so we can turn the one we have over to Bun.

When we sought out furniture before LP was born we went to all the baby stores. Mostly because we needed a crib. Of course we got sucked in to the whole "Oooohhhh! We're having our first baby" excitement and ended up buying a dresser from a baby store (and a glider...but that came in handy...and I did resist getting the glider footrest, thank goodness!). We paid too much for what we got and LP's clothing has pretty much already outgrown the dresser we purchased for her.

Lesson learned, we are shopping in grown-up furniture stores this time around. You would think that with the pretty constant need for furniture there would be a plethora of options. You would think wrong. It seems the manufacturers are not the best at market research or understanding consumer needs. The sizes are all wrong, the styles are usually way-over-the-top ornate or hold overs from the 70s, and the construction...let's just say that I will be pregnant longer than some of these babies will hold together.

Who wants drawers that are only 4 inches deep? Are those for people that only wear skin tight clothing or skimpy lingerie? Because seriously, two folded sweaters stacked on top of each other are more than four inches tall. Couple this with the fact that a lot of the drawers are only 13 inches deep. I am short and my pants need to be triple folded to fit. Which then pushes them closer to the four inch max height limit.

LP will be two when we give her the new furniture, I don't think black laquer is really her style. And the marble topped dressers...maybe if she planned on cooking in her bedroom. Fortunately we found a couple of things that we like. We like them so much that we would rather put them in our bedroom. They aren't cheap, but the sales folks claim that they should last so long that LP can "take them with her when she gets married." So I figure that LP's future husband will buy her some new stuff and the Hoos and I will finally have the furniture we deserve. Twenty five years isn't too long to wait.

'Nother Day, 'Nother Doctor Visit

Ah, yes, don't we all just love the smell of the doctor's office? Today was actually a planned visit for LP, it was to recheck her ears and eyes. And...she still has an ear infection. And her nose is congested. So tonight she will start a new round of anti-biotics and a decongestant. Yay for us!

And just so we don't miss the doctor/patient experience too much, I have an OB visit on Monday and LP has yet another recheck on Tuesday. There will be no problem using up all of our fflex-spending account $ this year!

I feel really bad for my little baby. She has been a bit cranky lately and not interested in putting her diaper on. We thought she just liked running around naked, but maybe she doesn't like laying down because it makes her ears and sinuses hurt? Who knows? To be honest, her nose hasn't even been running, I guess that is the difference between "congestion" and "snot".

Speaking of noses...

After the doctor we stopped at Stew's, our local the grocery store. They always have lots of free samples and the lobster bisque they were handing out in small cups was particularly excellent. As I was strapping LP back into her car seat after eating our way through the store, she starts rubbing my nose, "Nose! Nose!"; me: "Yes, baby, that is mommy's nose." Then I looked at my reflection: there was lobster bisque on the bridge of my nose! Lovely. No one said anything to me! One woman talked to me and LP for several minutes by the salad bar (2 minutes after consuming the bisque sample) and the cashier that checked us out never said a word.

To further my food-related misery, LP hit me in the head with an unwanted piece of honeydew (off of previously discussed salad bar) and then threw her yogurt-covered "schpoooon!" at my pants to close out her lunch. Ah, the joys of motherhood.

Chez Mi Casa

When I was 12 or so, my grandfather took my family to Windows on the World in a limo to celebrate my grandmother's 60th birthday. This was a big to-do and we got all dressed up to go into this fancy restaurant in the city. I knew it was fancy because the menus had no prices and the bathrooms had attendants.

Fast forward 20 years and while we don't have menus in my house (well, take-out menus) I do have my own personal bathroom attendant! Let me explain. And sorry in advance if this is too much information.

As discussed in the past, LP is sort of in the process of potty training herself. As such, I try to encourage her to feel comfortable in the bathroom. I am also trying to show by example how I use the bathroom when I need to by announcing, "Mommy has to pee" as I walk to the restroom.

Yesterday the little stinker pushed me out of the way, running ahead of me to the fabulous pink tiled bathroom on the main floor of the house. She ran in, lifted the lid on the toilet seat to prepare it and took a handful of "tissue! tissue!" while she waited for me to settle in. She then attempted to stuff the "tissue" around me into the toilet when she anticipated I was done. As I stood up, she flushed the toilet and gently lowered the lid announcing "All done!". She then carried her potty, which doubles as a step stool, over to the sink for us to step up on to wash our hands.

I don't remember getting this level of service at Windows on the World. But I imagine I would have been creeped out if I had. However, when it is LP doing the attending it is just too adorable. Not that I want her to grow up to be a bathroom attendant...

Insult to Injury

I just returned from picking up lunch from a cafeteria in another building in my office park. The Injury: I hadn't planned on buying lunch, but since someone had thrown out my Trader Joe's pad thai from the office freezer (it was a frozen meal! it wasn't going to go bad and stink up the joint!), I had no choice.

The Insult: As I ascended the stairs after returning, a colleague walking behind me shouted, "Amy, I am glad to see you are taking the stairs!".

WTF! Do I look that huge? I am pregnant.

She then went on to explain, "Your pelvic floor will thank you." Double WTF! Is my pelvic floor any of your business?

The Hacker

Is it just me or does coughing always seem to get worse at night? Seriously, I felt fine all day yesterday, occasionally coughing when I talked too fast or breathed too deeply and about 10 minutes before bedtime I start hacking away like a two-pack-a-day smoker. Good timing, because really, who needs sleep?

Last night at 12:30 I got up out of bed and dragged my sorry butt into our guest room. I figured the Hoos did not need to lay awake along with me. Of course, my wonderful husband followed me into the guest room to help me clear off the bed (did I mention the 'guests' that use the room are my clothes?). He then returned five minutes later with my pillows. It was very sweet of him, but of course it defeated the purpose of me moving to the guest room.

Soon after getting into the spare bed, my cough subsided (big shock there). Rather than risk tempting fate, I decided to stay the course. Today I am exhausted and relatively cough free. (again, a shocking conclusion to a crappy night).

Maybe this is "body boot camp" for when Bun arrives.

Diagnosis This

I hate going to the doctor. Actually, the only time I like going to the doctor is when I am pregnant because it means I am tracking the progress of the little person growing in my abdomen.

Regardless, yesterday before my class I spent about an hour trying to identify a new primary care physician (PCP). I don't know about you, but the only doctor I go to annually is my OBGYN. If I need to see another doctor I just try to identify the one closest to my house that takes my insurance. And I haven't been to the doctor since we lived in White Plains, NY - about 4 years ago. The Hoos has been going to the same doctor his entire life, which has its own problems because the good doctor is getting set to retire.

This time around I decided it might be good to start establishing a relationship with a doctor. We own our house and probably won't be moving too far any time soon. One of my colleagues lives close to me and had some ideas. Unfortunately, one practice she offered was not accepting new patients and the other one did not accept our insurance. Another friend I was going to hit up for a referral just posted a blog entry about a horrible doctor's experience...so I am guessing she won't have a recommendation...

I ended up going to a step slightly above a "doctor in a box" e.g., a walk-in clinic. The doctor was nice enough, but I was the youngest person by about 40 years and there were lots of signs about controlling your diabetes. Oh, and the hole in the wall in the examination room? A little disconcerting, but at least I didn't have to take my clothes off.

The end result is that I still need a PCP and that I have...a post-nasal drip. No bronchitis, no sinus infection, just an annoying cough caused snot leaking down my throat. At least now my parents and the Hoos will stop bugging me to get checked out.

Mishigas and Mushrooms

Before I get started, the title:
Mishigas: Yiddish for craziness
Mushrooms: You know, the employees that you keep in the dark and feed lots of sh*t to. Not sure if I am the mushroom or if I work with a lot of them.

On to the show:

Apparently this is my 301st post. I wish it was about something more exciting, really. Let's pretend it is all about the awesome SuperBowl last night. Go Giants!

Anyway, right now I am relaxing on my couch thinking about how I have overdone it today and my groin hurts. I believe this is due to my cartilege stretching and whatnot due to hormones.

I don't remember my groin hurting so much when I was pregnant with LP, but I am sure it must have. I probably don't remember because when it hurt I could sit still. This morning instead of sitting still I sat on the side of the bathtub reading books for at least 40 minutes while reading to LP. Once again, she didn't pee, but she sure looked cute jumping up and running away from me with her little tush waving in the wind every 5 minutes to get more books.

Before spending the whole morning watching LP on the potty, I received a phone call from the General Counsel of my firm. He know I work from home partly on Mondays and Fridays and called at 9:11 to see if I had received a call at the office about "one of our boats sinking." Umm...okay. That doesn't really sound like the typical media call I receive.He asks me to check as he will be waiting for me to call him back. Checking my messages it turns out that at 9:07 I did get a message from a marina asking me to call because something happened to one of our boats.

I know, this sounds like a lame story, but really it is giving me an opportunity to complain about people.

1. The receptionist/switchboard operator at my office. I work in the headquarters of our firm, in total there are 1700 people employed at over 60 offices. Any time she receives a phone call and doesn't know who to route it to, she attempts to send it to me. You know, because I handle PR and media calls. In the spirit of being nice, let's pretend that she thought "The Elizabeth Marina" was a newspaper.
2. Yes, I check my voice and email when I am working from home. I check email much more frequently actually, and I still don't check it every five minutes. Cripes! And how did the GC even know I had received this call? Is he monitoring me?!
3. Whomever is the actual contact for the marina. Hello - do you not have your contact information updated with the people that work there? Why the heck are they calling the main number at our office?!

Unrelated, but the Hoos just called from the doctor's office. He has bronchitis and pink eye (wonder how he got that?). Please send positive health points my way, I am so not interested in getting sick.

A Family Project

Back around Christmas time, the Hoos bought a 20-gallon aquarium for the house. LP loves animals and we thought she would enjoy having a few of her own.

For the past few weeks he has been contemplating buying a background for the tank. This is basically wallpaper for the back of the tank - I am not sure if it is for the fish or for the people viewing (shockingly, I am neither the green thumb nor the Dr. Doolittle of our house).

Yesterday instead of purchasing a commercial background, the three of us used construction paper to create our own little fish scenery. It came out great. LP was in charge of the glue stick and some placement, I cut out bubbles and fish and the Hoos handled the plants. It was fun, silly, and way cooler than anything we could have puchased.

If Not Now, When?

I have a disease. It isn't life threatening, or even related to my physical health, but it definitely makes me question my mental health. I don't even know if it has a name - what is the opposite of procrastination?

Seriously, I just can't let stuff go undone. If something needs to be taken care of and I really don't feel like doing it, I ask myself, "If not now, when?". If I can't put a finite deadline on it or the alternative timing just doesn't seem right, I force myself to take on the task right away.

For example, LP is napping right now. Instead of taking a few minutes to relax and sit on my big old arse on the couch, I ran around like a crazy person:

• 1:55 - Put LP in her crib
• 2:00 - While listening to LP scream unhappily, pick up and put away all of the toys that we played with this morning
• 2:15 - Check my email and do a few small projects for work
• 2:35 - Prep the turkey meatloaf for dinner
• 2:50 - Clean up from meatloaf prep
• 2:55 - Notice that dishwasher is done running and full of clean dishes. Contemplate writing on blog, but instead empty dishwasher
• 3:05 - Sit down and formulate blog entry

See? Sick, sick, sick! I am five months pregnant, I deserve a break, right? But I just refuse to give it to myself. In fact, even as I write this I am thinking about getting up to put up a load of laundry. Despite the fact that I did three loads yesterday while watching a sick LP in the afternoon, the pile doesn't look like a dent was made.

The other person seriously suffering because of my illness is the Hoos. Just this morning he was sitting at the breakfast table and noticed a credit card bill, "I usually don't even see these, they are gone by the time I get home." I didn't want to tell him that I had checked the statement online earlier in the week and already set up the payment online, so I just didn't bother to move it into the office with my usual efficiency since it was really already taken care of.

The poor guy. Seriously. He asks me to leave stuff for him to deal with when he gets home from work - like the garbage, laundry, dishes, etc. - but I just can't. I know he will take care of it, but I just can't leave the timing to chance. Yes, he'll get the laundry, but it will be in a few hours, or tomorrow, and by then I could already have it folded and put away.

Do they make a 'chill pill'? Because I think I could use a few bottles.