Alpaca Wacka

Halloween Bash

2009-10-24T19:19:00.000-07:00

Well, maybe if I have enough time I'll be able to keep up with this thing more than I have. I know, I know-we're looking at almost a year's hiatus here. Sad. just sad.

I need to preface this post by filling you in a little on my past. When I was a little girl, the absolute BEST birthday party I ever attended was also the ONLY themed party I ever saw. Ironically, it was thrown by my poorest friend. I have no idea how her mom scraped together the money for it, but while we were all having parties at waterparks or pools with lots of grocery store made cakes and loads of presents, she sat down and thought out a way to have an amazing party at home. Everything was homemade. There were halloween themed treats, licorice for straws, and a halloween punch in a cauldron that made its own fog. That party has always stuck with me and it's always been a feeling I've wanted to recreate for my girls.

This was also the friend who came to school with the coolest homemade costumes, while the rest of us had those amazingly crappy storebought ones. Surely you remember those? The plastic pants and shirts that split at the seam with the first step, or shredded in the cold of the typical SD Halloween? The stupid mask with eye holes in the wrong spot and an elastic band to stapled to it to hold in on your head that was broken before your first march around the resource room in the school Halloween parade?

Now I know I sound like a total brat. I should be more grateful for the fact my parents were finacially comfortable enough to be able to shower us with so many expensive things. But I always remember being jealous of my friend and the clever and creative things her mother came up with to make her childhood so fun.

Lizzie's birthday is November 3. Its amazing how difficult a time I have remembering WHEN her birthday is. Disgraceful-I know. But see, the problem lies in the day and the year... I can never seem to remember... was it Nov. 3, 2002 or was it Nov. 2, 2003?!? In any case, this year the closest Saturday is on Halloween. Why pass up the chance for a really fun birthday party?!?

The plan is to have some girls over in the afternoon for crafts, grab some pumpkin shaped pizza from Papa Murphy's and then run out and trick or treat in one big mob. I hope it works out!

Crafts:
It's not always easy to find cool crafts for this season. Sure, there's plenty of artfoam pumpkins you can decorate-but how boring is THAT? We could carve pumpkins-but it seems to me that you need an adult for each little carver at the age of 6 or 7 and we'd be spread too thin. Decorating them with paints would require them to be dry by the time they left, and I don't know too many 7 year olds that are sparing enough with paint to actually have it dry in less than 24 hrs. But I really like this luminaria idea! The jar is substantial enough to mean there's no tipped over bags and it seems like a bit less of a fire hazard. We did a test one tonight and I think the main hurdle will be getting each girl to learn to tear off their strips of tape from the roll.

You can't beat good old Oriental Trading Post for fun and cheap ideas for crafts for any holiday. I hadn't realized initially that they carried so many crafty kits. I always thought they were all about decorations for parties-but nay nay! They are really a one stop shop for loot, crafts, and decor. We're going simple this year. I figure the girls really don't need any loot, considering they'll have the chance to get plenty of candy. Instead, we're going to string a fimo clay bracelet. We picked something with an autumn theme, so they have a longer chance to wear it.

The Cake:
I have been holding on to this idea for at least a year after a friend showed it to my husband just to squick him out-he has spider issues. This has got to be the coolest cupcake idea I've ever seen! I ran a test run of these but alas, ran into trouble. I have this awesome chocolate ganache recipe I love, and topped some chocolate cupcakes with it. I thought we'd go the humble route and just draw our legs on in frosting, but my pathetic test looked quite similar to a pile of crap on a plate that a four year old had then finger painted in. My Pocky legs were a fail too. The package had all the chocolate sticks glued together in a large mass. Breaking one off meant breaking the stick itself-they're surprisingly thin and delicate. Perhaps its easier if you don't live in a cultural backwater where the Pocky has probably sat on the shelf languishing for the last 12 months because no one actually eats anything that hip around here. So, we're resorting to black licorice legs and hoping it works. I don't have any more cupcakes to test it with! I figure I'll quarter the licorice and stick it in the cake for legs and then half a bite size snickers for the head. If the head and body are covered in ganache, it should look uniform enough. (right?!?)

Costumes:
Lizzie is going as a ghostly bride-sort of a non-scary version of Burton's Corpse Bride. It was a compromise. She wanted to a be a bride. I thought a ghost sounded easy. I can't sew and see no reason to buy a big box store costumethat you can't see under your winter coat when you're out trick or treating anyway. So we'll use Marth Stewart's ghost costume sans hood, and add a veil, big ol' ring and some white face paint.

I'm planning on going as a raven-again thanks to inspiration from Martha. Black clothes, and a neat feathered mask should be easy to pull together. Katie has a cute flowered snowsuit, and I think we'll make her a poncho out of fleece in the shape of flower petals and call it good. Josh was initally going to go as a blue jay (feathered masks are easy and his winter coat is blue) but I sense a lack of enthusiasam there.

We'll see how much of a fail all of this is. Sadly, I lack the talent of my friend's crafty mother-just look at past attempts at costumes and cakes!

EEEWWWW! Great present!

2009-01-07T13:33:00.000-08:00

Look what I got!

Look CLOSER!

Guess what it is yet? Its a Shiitake Mushroom growing kit. You're looking at the product of 6-18 months worth of spore incubation all waiting to burst forth in mushroomy goodness. Its currently resting in my fridge, going through a "cold shock" to make it ready for production. I should have at least a pound of fresh shiitakes two weeks from Friday. Are ya a little squicked out?

Paul and Dusty's Ultimate Shiitake Recipe (courtesy of http://www.fungi.com/)

1/8 cup Olive oil

1/8 cup sesame oil

4-5 tablespoons tamari

2 glugs and 1 splash of white wine

Stir vigorously. place 1 lb of whole fresh shrooms gills up. Pour sauce on shrooms and stir. Bake uncovered at 350 degrees for 30-40 minutes or barbecue on an open grill for a smoky flavor. Serve hot with seafood, rice, past or whatever.

Jealous yet? I'm so freaking excited I could pee my pants! Josh -the fungus hater... is totally revolted! He's probably not impressed with it currently residing next to his Pepsi either. I'm having visions of grabbing a couple more kits, miraculously manifesting a garage, and selling them to the local health food store and some of the more upscale resturants in town and I haven't even grown my first mushroom yet. Shrooms! Wonderful shrooms- every two weeks for the next six months. WOOT!

Artwork

2008-12-08T09:28:00.000-08:00

Recently, Lizzie brought a piece of artwork home from school. Josh gasped at the sight of this:

He wanted to know What the Hell they were teaching those little kids at school?!? I patiently explained that the head of the paper bag puppet she had made had fallen off. After it was replaced, it looked like this:

A Winter's Ghost Story

2008-11-06T10:33:00.000-08:00

I got inspired by the weather out there today, and told this story to Lizzie. This story has a disclaimer-its written for a six year old, so how scary can it be? I'm no writer..... Usually my stories are horrible tripe, involving rainbow farting unicorns who befriend little girls and live in flower strewn meadows. They are reserved for long car rides and never written down. But last night a blizzard blew in, my friend spent the night without power.. and what can I say?

**************************

Once upon a time on in a land far away, a little family slept on a cold winter's eve. And, as they slept, The Spirit of Winter's Past looked down upon them. He hated the cozy warmth of their fires and the glow from their windows. And so, as the little family slept snug in their beds, the Spirit of Winter's Past stole down upon them.

He stretched out his hand and wrapped them in the depths of winter's cold. He flexed his fingers and made frost rime the window frames and steal across the glass. He laughed, and a nasty sound like the cracking of ice could have been heard. But the little family was not listening, and they slept on, oblivious, their breath now making white plumes in the air.

Finally the little girl woke, shivering... the tip of her nose red. Why was it so cold? In her warm flannel nightgown she tiptoed to her parents' room and tugged at the bedclothes. Her mother's sleepy voice greeted her, and she climbed into a warm toasty bed beside her little baby brother. But soon she was cold again, and her shivering woke her father. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, to find the power out, the house cold, and the kitties curled in little balls upon the bed.

Outside the wind howled and the cold beat down upon the little house. The Spirit of Winter's Past had blanketed the house in a terrible cold. There was no sound save that of the wind in the trees, and the snow skittering across the drifts. The light was gray, the sun seemed very far away. But Mother knew what to do, and she laughed as she dressed the children in their warmest woolens, speaking of days of old. For awhile, the blizzard seemed an adventure and they lit candles to play by.

The Spirit of Winter's Past sneered to himself, and tightened his grip on the little house. Time wore on and the cold increased. The light never grew, but stayed a forbidding gray. Outside, the trees popped and cracked, as ice crept into the wood. The little house seemed all alone, on a plain of snow and ice. The family felt very small. Doubt crept into the mother's voice and the children whimpered and huddled against her, shivering. Father glanced out the windows uneasily, wishing for the chance to glimpse something, even the mailbox at the end of the drive. But there was nothing, nothing but the unceasing white of the driven snow. It seemed to move out there, whirling like packs of hungry wolves, snapping at the little beam of light his candle flame cast and the snow drifted higher 'round the door.

Mother stamped her feet, and tried to encourage the children to sing a song with her. Their voices died away miserably amid the verses. The little girl had long since stopped feeling her fingers and toes and now she could hardly feel her face. Through the gloom beside her she could see her little brother was almost asleep. Darkness was falling. Soon The Spirit of Winter's Past would have his way, and they would all fall asleep... never to wake again. They were terribly and desperately alone in a sea of snow and cold. Soon, they knew, the whole world would grow still and silent, and they would be gray statues, their tears frozen on their cheeks.

Father could see the terrible cold creeping into their bones, and a desperate panic overtook him. He shook them each in turn and pulled his family out the door, into the teeth of the storm. He bid them pile wood into a mighty pile and began to throw anything that might burn into it. Soon it stood taller than any of them. Then he fell to his knees in the snow to light it. But The Spirit of Winter's Past shrieked with laughter, and breathed an icy breath, snuffing his match out. Mother stared at Father in horror and in that silent terrible moment they shared something extraordinary happened.

The little boy looked up into the sky and then seemed to notice the white snowflakes collecting in his sister's eyelashes. He gave a gay little laugh and warmth bloomed in Mother's heart. She grabbed the hand of her daughter and gave a gentle squeeze. The little family locked hands around Father, and sheilded him with their bodies from the worst of the wind, and in doing so, from the wrath of The Spirit of Winter's Past.

A light bloomed in the darkness and the fire caught. Light and warmth blazed up, beating back the gloom. They stood, bathed in the light of the fire, drinking in it's warmth. Mother buried chestnuts in the embers, and as they ate them, it seemed as if their bodies were awakening from a long slumber. They danced and sang songs in the darkness, and gradually the wind died. The cold abated to that of a natural winter's night and gradually the skies cleared until the stars twinkled down on them from a winter's sky.

The End

This is why I never post

2008-10-20T07:44:00.000-07:00

With one notable exception, I have spent the last couple of weeks waking with a baby at least every two hours each night. Once particularly horrific night it was eight times between midnight and 4 am. Each time she wakes, she must be rocked back to sleep. By four am each night, I exhibit the tantrums of a petulant 5 year old and the mental capacity of my dog. Babies have much shorter and faster sleep cycles than adults. Whereas an adult takes approximately 4 hours to cycle thru light and deep sleep, an infant only takes 30 minutes. I suspect that what happens is that for some reason, she is unable to stay in that light sleep as she cycles in and out. So there's not much sleep going on around here for the adults in the family. Each morning I wake absolutely PISSED off at the world and cruise at that emotional level all day long. Oddly, I notice that it really makes me depressed. The one night she only woke twice, I woke to what seemed like an incredibly beautiful day, full of promise and hope and happiness. LOL!

Last night I put a very tired little girl to bed just after we tucked her sister in at 9pm. We put in a movie, and she slept for half an hour and woke. I picked her up and rocked her back to sleep. We repeated this process two more times about 15 minutes apart each time. The final time I realized

I CANNOT KEEP DOING THIS

I am not physically capable. My mind is hanging on by a thread.

All the books in the world today say that letting a baby Cry It Out before 6 months is cruel. They simply don't have the reasoning capacity to understand what is going on. Most agree that only very limited crying it out should be allowed once the baby reaches 6 months-such as for five minutes at a time. So we are at an impasse. Katie is 6.5 months old. Letting her cry for five minutes in hopes she'll just give up and go to sleep is ludicrous. I've seen this kid cry for 3 hours solid at a time.

I've resisted just putting her down and letting her figure things out herself this long because I've felt like I'd be a horrible mother. It seems cruel to just dump a kid in her crib and walk away when she's never had to put hserself to sleep before in her life. She's really never developed much in the way of self soothing skills.

Last night I really didn't see how I had a choice. We rocked her to sleep again around 10:45 and then settled ourselves to wait for her next crying session. She woke 15 minutes later and the screaming began. She held out for an hour of crying. It wasn't quite as awful as I'd imagined. It was more of an on and off thing, punctuated by periods of extreme frustration. We sat with her the whole time. After another 15 minutes of sobbing and sniffling as she calmed down and she was finally asleep. For another two hours. By then it was 2 am, and it was time for her usual nursing session. At four, I just didn't have another hours worth of screaming tolerance in me, so I picked her up again. But I think we're getting somewhere. It's progress.

Anyway, all of this is written as an explanation of sorts. If you find me trying to insert a carrot into the steering column to start my van, or if asking a simple question elicits a tirade in which half my face falls off and flames shoot from my eyes-I'm sure you'll understand why.

Some Days I Want to be This Person

2008-09-03T07:49:00.000-07:00

indigenous yums!

2008-08-28T13:33:00.001-07:00

I had once heard that yucca blossoms were edible, and that in fancy schmancy resturants out in California, you paid good money to eat them in salads. I even Googled them, but didn't really find much information to satisfy my curiosity-some long gone trendy diner menus, and some Indian dude touting the cool factor of the Plains Indian diet. That was about it. What I did find told me to be sure not to eat anything but the blossom itself, as yucca contains saponins (which I understand to be a form of soap, and as such, quite bitter and narsty.) Indeed, an Indian acquaintence of mine once swore up and down the very best shampoo in the whole world came from washing with the root of yucca. But I digress.

In June, the whole area around Spearfish burst into blossom and the yucca was everywhere. So I stopped and picked a spike. If you decide to try this next year, please don't be the ass I was, bring yourself some gardening shears to sever the spike from the plant. It's very very tough when using your car keys to cut it.

One spike will provide an ample amount of blossoms for about 6 people. I found that my favorite part was the bud, or the pistil and area fo the flower where the little embryonic seeds rest -it's quite sweet. I would liken the taste to that of a snow pea. We ate our salad with a lemon, basil and garlic dressing that was really outstanding.

Isn't it purty?

Boom!

2008-08-13T08:31:00.000-07:00

Hey did ya hear? Pyrotechnics Guild International is holding their annual meeting in Gillette WY this week. Each night had fireworks events, but the culmination is the "Grand Public Display" this Friday night at the Camplex. This is one of the largest fireworks displays in the world and will contain many handmade fireworks you'll never see done commerically. All the cool kids are goin' - even National Geographic will be on hand to film for an upcoming documentary. (I bet its about people who blow their fingers off playing with gunpowder.) I think we're gonna go, and I predict our lifetime supply of oooh and aaahs will be all used up by the end. In fact, I suspect we'll be ruined for all other fireworks displays ever. Heh.

Un-freaking believable

2008-08-03T09:37:00.000-07:00

Two months of work

Two minutes of frogging

Aw ....fuck a duck

Title Omitted for Reasons of Public Decency

2008-08-03T08:42:00.000-07:00

I had to leave the title of this post blank, because I'm attempting to be a bigger person than my natural instincts dictate and I'm trying to write relatively cleanly. What I'd like to do is throw a huge temper tantrum, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Lets start at the beginning.

I talked a good friend (you know who you are) into sewing some microfiber inserts for me since my sewing machine has decided to go AWOL and hide from me in my storage unit 350 miles away. I was desperate. I was worried about having enough inserts for my child to stuff in her diapers. Fear of running out of diapers will make you do irrational things. I agreed to knit SIZE ELEVEN socks for someone out of this crazy fun yarn her sister had dyed up from laceweight yarn. The colorway is called "Covered in Bees" a reference to a standup bit by everyone's favorite British cross-dressing comedian, Eddie Izzard. She would have knit them herself, alas, she is a crocheter.

I cast on, and found I was knitting at either 10 or eleven stitches per INCH. Do you have any idea how many stitches that represents? That gauge is so fine it's not even ON my sock knitting chart. I increased my needle size to a 2-and normally knit on 0's. This barely allowed me to make it to nine stitches per inch-just on the chart. Each repeat seemed to take ages... I felt like one of those hamsters on a wheel, spinning in place. This was compounded by the fact that I have an infant at home. I don't knit much. By the time June was gone, I had only finished about 2 inches of cuff. I felt guilty. The recipient is coming home from work at camp at the end of the summer. I'd never make it by this rate. She worked her butt off to sew me inserts before she left for camp-in the midst of finals. The least I could do was come through on my end of the bargain. I reapplied myself, resolving to spend at least some time each day knitting on them, and put all other projects on the backburner, even my pretty summer tank I wanted to finish before the season was done. I wasn't always successful at this goal, but by yesterday I'd gotten to this point:

I was pretty pleased. Knitting comes slowly with a new baby around. I was still very concerned about finishing before the end of the summer-I was really only 1/4 of the way through, afterall, but at least I was making progress. Rayelle (no stranger to large feet at size 10.5's) causally picked it up last night and said "GEEZE! who are you knitting the enormous sock for?!? That's not gonna fit ANYONE-certainly not Rachel!"

come again?

Ex-squeeeeeze me?!?

"Look at your gauge! What is that-six stitches to the inch?!?"

I have size 6 feet. I'd never really paid attention to just how big this thing is turning out to be. Surely Rachel, even at her most swollen and footsore, doesn't have arches that are 17 inches in circumfrence, does she? DOES SHE?!?

It looks like I was knitting at about 6.5 stitches per inch. Note to self: When swatching for a sock- please swatch in the round.

Rachel, please note the pleasing change in the amount of "bees" as we proceed through the ball of yarn in the former photo. It may be the closest you ever get to your hand knitted socks.

Un-freaking believable.

watermelons and baby windmills

2008-06-29T20:01:00.000-07:00

I learned a valuable dyeing lesson today. When you dye something an incredibly bright and jarring shade or colorway and you think you might be forced to claw your own eyes out if you look at it

one

more

second....

One only needs to dip it in a faint contrasting color to tone the shade down a bit and make it bearable. If you think the colors above are rather eye blinding-you should have seen them before I toned the pink down! This "Watermelon" is my newest colorway-and one I've been wanting to make for some time-but the last time I tried I almost blinded myself and was forced to overdye the whole thing. Just how was I able to make a self striping sock yarn with a 3 month old infant at home?

Why, I simply employed this lovely little contraption! This is my long awaited Christmas present from my dear, dear husband. We finished it yesterday at the Ranch-where his father employed MUCH mojo and hard work to bring it to fruition. I'll have to make a post on the story of making it-there was much sweating and cursing involved. But it's here now-and I LOVE it.

What makes "the windmill" so special is that it's twice the size of a typical swift. It's adjustable between roughly 50 and 108 inches. Therefore at it's full extension it makes it possible for me to dye six different stripes in a sequence. I'm finally able to skein and dye and reskein sock yarn at less than two hours at a pop. I am SO excited! maybe I'll be able to start selling some!

Ten Minutes a Day!

2008-06-23T14:11:00.000-07:00

I stumbled across this here today, and thought it was a great idea. Just think of what you'd have if you spun 10 minutes each day. Even if you limit yourself to weekdays, that's almost an hour of spinning in a week's time. You could have a substantial amout accomplished! I had to remind myself recently that I stay home each day. It IS possible to plan a few goals around my life at home. I can say, for instance, that I WILL knit an hour a day, or even half an hour. I don't have to get all anal and proscribe a time for doing so... (I have my limits) but wow I could sure get a lot done if I'm even 50% faithful to a resolution like this.

So, today I spent about half an hour spinning some of that lovely alpaca roving I bought in Ft. Collins almost a year ago. I'm working on some of the stuff I left the natural ashy gray. I'm pretty close to being done with a bobbin. I've already got a bobbin full of the stuff I dyed plum. I can't wait to ply them together and see what comes of it. I did it on the deck, sleeping baby on a playmat beside me, children playing with the hose in the yard. It's lovely here-about 78 degrees, with no humidity and a slight breeze, and no bugs-thank goodness for the Black Hills and low maintenence babies.

What am I gonna do with the finished project? I initially bought enough for a "vest"... but a vest sounds so... dowdy. I also resolved to make it my practice stuff-the goal being to spin as fine as I can in preparation for the superwash wool sitting above one cupboard. I plan on spinning socks with that stuff. But back to the project at hand. It's been so long that I don't even know how many ounces I bought-so, I don't know how many yards I'll end up making, but lets assume there will be about 600 yards of sport weight 100% alpaca. Oh the possibilities! Feel free to suggest something!

This just in!

2008-06-20T15:30:00.000-07:00

Special reporter Katie Gray has made a shocking discovery!

"If you wave those long things on the sides of your body around, you can actually bat at the toys hanging in front of you. Who would have thought you could actually effect the scenery around you!?!"

"Back to you, Bob."

more missing teef!

2008-06-20T15:19:00.000-07:00

Another tooth has turned traitor and jumped ship from Lizzie's mouth. Perhaps it just couldn't take the constant chomping on "corn on the knob." We may never know the full motivation for it's desertion, but Lizzie is thrilled with the prospect of another visit from the "toof fairly."

Need a napkin?

2008-06-20T14:40:00.000-07:00

We've been quite domestic round these parts lately! We made these wonderful cookies. They are an oatmeal chocolate cookie you wouldn't be able to resist eating if I placed it in front of you. They're oh-so-soft and chocolatey. What I wouldn't be able to resist telling you (after you've eaten several of course) is that they're specifically designed to aid in lactation. So, you'll want a napkin, not only to wipe up the mess you made salivating, but also mop up your shirt after you start leaking.

Okay, not really. It only aids in lactation if you're already doing so. If no one has had their lips wrapped around your nip for the past few hours, you're safe. If however, you want to boost your milk supply, these lovely babies will help do so. They're chock full of galactogogues-foods that aid in the production of milk. Our ancient forebearers understood about these foods much better than we did. There is a reason all those fertility goddesses were surrounded by bushels of grains. Whole grains like oats, flax and wheats are perfect boosters, as are yeasts. I think they should be mandatory food for all new mothers! I love it that the original recipe says that a serving size is one dozen-cause a dozen is about how many you want to eat in one sitting-trust me!

Here's my adapted recipe for Noel Trullio's Lactation Cookies and a link to the original:

Ingredients
1 cup butter
1 cup sugar
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
3 cups oats
1 bag chocolate chips
2-4 tablespoons brewer's yeast

Directions
Preheat oven to 350°. Beat butter, sugar, and brown sugar. Add eggs and mix well. Add vanilla. Sift together flour, brewers yeast, baking soda, and salt. Add dry ingredients to butter mix. Stir in oats and chips. Scoop onto baking sheet. Bake for 12 minutes. Let set for a couple minutes then remove from tray. Makes appox 2 dozen large cookies.

The only "odd" item in the mix here is the brewer's yeast. You can find this at your local health food store. If you aren't lactating, I wouldn't spend loads of time finding this. It is an excellent natural source of a number of important minerals, though, and can help you justify eating "just one more" to get your daily dose of vitamins and minerals in a form much more easily metabolized than those smelly little pills we all swallow.

2008-06-05T14:14:00.000-07:00

see more politics and fun!

Breastfeeding moms... Bush looks like he could have an interesting latch there... doesn't he?

Flooding!

2008-06-05T09:15:00.000-07:00

I loves me a good flood! I know I know-it makes me one sick puppy. I'm sure if I ever had a house in harm's way I'd change my tune in a hurry. But they're so... dramatic! Exciting! It's so beautiful to see Mother nature's power!

Spearfish Creek is in full display. I never thought I'd ever get the chance to see it over it's banks. But it's over them now! We snapped a few photos this a.m. You can see everything I shot here.

Jackson ST Bridge

Jackson-note the water you can just see coming down the hill. This is backing up before it can get to the drainage area and there is a considerable pool built up.

Nash St Bridge

Looking south from the Nash Bridge-upstream.

Udderly ridiculous

2008-05-25T20:34:00.000-07:00

...an' how 'bout...

2008-05-25T20:09:00.000-07:00

Saturday I planted in my little garden area beside our walk. While I did so, I listened in on the conversation/imaginative play of my daughter and a neighbor girl. They were really getting some great riffs going-creating this complex imaginative world around themselves... building off of each other as they went. It sounded a little like this...

********************

L: "an' how 'bout we were princesses and this was our castle.."

H: "an' how 'bout we were three an' our mommy said it was supper time"

L: "an' how 'bout we went to bed an' these are our bunkbeds:

Insert three miliseconds of fake snoring....

H: "an' how 'bout we woke up and we turned into sixteen"

L: "Oh! We're sixteen now!"

*fake laughter and squeals*

****************

Please note that the whole exchange occurs in 30 seconds or less when they're really in the zone. It's like this rapid fire blast of chatter back and forth as they play. "an' how 'bout" is the magic phrase that conjures up amazing images and worlds.

It was enlightening to hear this exchange, because when the rare moment occurs that I am roped into this sort of play, I find it incredibly annoying that she keeps throwing these parameters on me right and left before I even have much of a chance to assimilate and begin imagining the LAST "rule" she threw at me. I end up annoyed that she's being such a little dictator and forcing me in one direction or another with the play.

The difference of course, is age. I view these statements as "rules" that must be followed, and I require time to begin imagining and then existing in the world that has been created with each statement. Lizzie, on the other hand, sees them as simple guideposts for story creation. She expects that I will take a more proactive role in creating alongside her as we play, and when I don't, she steps up to fill the gap. Each time she states something.. the world has been fleshed out a bit more.

My poor feeble brain just doesn't imagine as quickly as hers does. I must be SO boring! ...but I remember when I used to utter the magic phrase "an' how 'bout" too.

Thar She Blows!

2008-05-08T14:05:00.000-07:00

Katie finally Pooped! Why, might you ask, am I rejoicing over a bowel movement?!?

Because it's been NINE days... NINE! since I've seen one!

Apparently, it's not uncommon for breastfed babies can go a week or two without pooping by six weeks of age... but it sure is disconcerting. Yesterday I even took her in to a pediatrician yesterday to see if I should be worried. We palpated her tummy-but there were no hard masses.. and she wasn't uncomfortable. So we just decided to give it a bit longer.

I'm glad we did. She went today, in her own good time. It was pretty much like a bomb went off in that diaper though. OMFG people! Buy stock in Swaddlebees cloth diapers! It was totally coated in a thick layer from the front lining all the way to the back, but never leaked once. I wasn't aware a five week old child had that kind of storage capacity. It's like she has a rectum of holding or something (D&D reference for you non-nerds.) Usually you can resell cloth diapers once you are done.

But NO ONE will EVER buy that diaper from me!

EVER.

Usually the very best stain remover is the sun.... but I doubt this will EVER sun out! Ah! Adventures in parenting! If this story isn't birth control.. I dunno what is!

Life is SHORT!

2008-05-06T19:45:00.000-07:00

Tonight over the dinner table, Lizzie and I had a profound discussion about life and death and how long we have left on this earth.

Okay. So, the kid is five.

She asked how old people are before they die-I've assured her that we can live to be 100. Therefore, in the mind of a five year old-100 is the cutoff. You croak when you get to be 100. Just how long is that, though, really?

I'm thirty-one. Lets make life simple and assume it's my birthday today. If I will cack on my birthday, August 8th, 2076 then I have:

69 years left or
828 months left or
3,588 weeks left or
25,185 days left or
604,440 hours left.

That seems a disturbingly short period of time, especially considering that it isn't exactly common to make it to be that old. A little over 600,000 hours? I've never really thought about it in those terms. I just always envisioned having oodles of time. Damn! I'd better get crackin!

Cute Squid Kid

2008-04-30T09:34:00.000-07:00

The other day I watched a friend's newborn baby as he rested against his Daddy's chest and commented that he looked a bit like those Moai on Easter Island. He still has some coning and it makes his forehead really high. He gets these cute little wrinkles in his forehead and he just looks like a very solemn, wise old soul. I meant it in a sweet way... but I probably offended the bejeezus out of his parents. You know me and my big mouth.

By way of apology, and because I honestly DO think this, (I even commented on it in the hospital) I think Katie has more than a passing resemblance to the cute little baby squid alien in Men in Black. How they managed to make a squid cute, is beyond me-but they DID. It's her big dark eyes blinking back at you that does it for me.

This picture doesn't do it justice. You need to watch the movie and see the shot of the little guy sucking his thumb.

Employment Tip for Sam

2008-04-29T17:33:00.000-07:00

Please note: Do not leave your position to take employment at the local newspaper selling classified ads. You'll surely put your head in the oven within days.

found in the Tuesday April 29th, 2008 edition of the Northern Hills Advertiser

RECREATIONAL VEHICLES

FOR SALE: 2006 Bombardier Outlander Max 400 ATV, green w/snowplow, wench, front/rear bags. Approximately 200 miles, excellent condition. $6,000, 645-9286

I almost had to physically restrain Josh from calling to ask for her measurements.

Thinking outside the box

2008-04-29T08:26:00.000-07:00

To continue with that last thought? I'm thinking outside the box too. It's what all the cool kids are doing these days. We're cloth diapering Katie. Don't get me wrong-I'm not a purist. There are disposable diapers in the diaper bag, and she gets a one each night because I'm lazy and don't want to wake up in the night to change her. But overall, we aren't using them too much. In fact, Katie will be a month old tomorrow, and so far we've only gone through half a box. I'm rather proud of our efforts!

Do you want to know a secret? I don't find it any harder to use cloth diapers than I do disposables. Yeah, you heard me right. Cloth diapers have come a long way from where they once were. Today's diapers and covers have an outer construction of waterproof cloth called PUL that doesn't really seem that different than regular polyester or cotton (so there's no more nasty crinkly plastic pants) and are outfitted with snaps and velcro (no more sticking yourself or your baby with pins.) You have lots of different options to choose from-you can still do a diaper with a cover, or you can choose an all in one construction that really doesn't seem any different than a disposable-except that you don't throw it away. They have cute brand names like "Happy Heineys," "Disposanots," "Bum-Genius" and "Fuzzi Bunz". I wash a small load of diapers every other day. There's no special treatment at this point-I just toss them in, poo and all and then throw them in the dryer later. We do have to use a different detergent that has no perfumes or dyes, but I can live with that.

Once Katie starts solids... I may change my tune, and it will involve a bit more work. But, breastfed baby poop really isn't all that toxic or objectionable. Frankly, it doesn't even smell bad. Yeah, that's right, I just said my baby's shit doesn't stink-but I'm her mother, that's a pretty predictable statement, isn't it? At least I didn't say my baby's poo smells like strawberries (seriously, I saw someone who claimed that once!) It's a good thing too, because I don't need to be any more in love with this kid. Those sweet little innocent eyes and heart shaped lips have already done me in-I'd be devastated by strawberry smelling poop. Besides, I'd spend all my time at the changing table sniffing....and that's just a little wierd.

It's a Millenium Thing

2008-04-29T08:01:00.000-07:00

It seems to me that every decade has it's own signature theme; some trend in attitude within popular culture that helps define it. The seventies were about sex and drugs; the eighties were about money and making lots of it; the nineties... I'm gonna hazard a bet and label it a little new agey-sorta "retro age of Aquarius". Sometimes it's a little hard to label until you've gained the perspective of time. What's your vote? Now, the current decade? I think we're living in the decade of rebellion-of thinking and acting outside the box. Hence we have trends that produce punk rockers who knit, people who question their medical providers, organic foods. What do you think, am I on to something?

Disaster!

2008-04-24T12:57:00.000-07:00

Note to self:

Self, do not attempt to make Angel Food cake in any pan other than what is specified. Never fill it to the top of the pan. Angel Food expands. A LOT.

Oh YES self, it would have been darn cool to make a castle shaped angel food cake, but it really is impossible to get out. A dessert as light and airy as this is not meant to be violently ripped from the pan in pieces by voracious visitors and crammed in their mouths.

The Birth Story!

2008-04-24T12:03:00.000-07:00

On Monday, March 31st, I was doing what I often was doing in the afternoons-napping, while my DD watched a few cartoons. Sometime around 2:30 I felt a trickle, and skipped into the bathroom as fast as I could. THAT was definitely my water breaking, though I managed to keep the bed dry. I sat on the toilet while Lizzie got the phone, and called DH to say it was "time to come home." He was quite flummoxed-somehow neither of us really thought it would occur during the day-we always imagined night time. He started the half an hour trip home and I found a diaper and switched to the birthing ball, while calling Rayelle to say we'd need her to pick up Lizzie. She of course, was at a midwife appointment, and unreachable. I proceeded to call my Mom-who absurdly wanted me to call before we left for the hospital (apparently she didn't realize how lucky she was to get THAT call!)my doula, Micole, and my midwife (who encouraged me to start the hour trip to the hospital right away-she's a smart one, she is!)

The contractions got stronger as I waited and I realized I had NO desire to leave the birthing ball. They were about 2-3 minutes apart, and totally bearable, but definitely there. For me they feel like rhythmic menstrual cramping. There were one or two I had just after Josh got home that I had to lean on him for. We decided not to spend too much time at home-I didn't want to be too much further along for the car ride. We ended up sending Liz to the neighbors and just trusted that someone would pick her up eventually and got in the car.

I had planned to labor on the ball in the back of the van, but never calculated how tall I'd be on it. We didn't fit. I ended up in the front seat-with no towel-totally soaking it. Five minutes later on the interstate, I found myself staring at Lookout Mountain and thinking... "I don't really want to do this again... Lets just cut it out..." I'm sure I was probably in transition at that point. Even without construction, or stopping to meet Micole, we had another 40 minutes to even reach Rapid City.

The trip settled into a pretty regular pattern, with contractions a minute apart and a minute long. I would have a wicked one, followed by a more mellow one. I would brace for each bridge, and mercifully, very few were in the midst of a contraction. Twenty minutes outside of Rapid, just where the interstate makes that funny jag at Blackhawk, I had my first pushing contraction. I couldn't help but roar through it-at which point I reported to DH that "um... THAT was a pushing contraction!"

I'd never had one-never had the urge to push with DD, though I waited patiently for a good 45 minutes with her after being told I was complete. From then on out, each of the wicked ones would be a "pusher" though at some point they ALL became pushers. I just roared through them, and didn't actively try to help the pushing. I could still feel feet in my ribs, and didn't think that the baby had dropped at ALL. I didn't have that feeling of a head in my cervix or anything. I figured we had PROBLEMS if I was already feeling the urge to push!

Yet, it also occurred to me we just might end up delivering in the car-which was okay, but I couldn't figure out WHERE we were gonna pull over on Mt. Rushmore Rd at five in the afternoon on a Monday! I hated to think of just parking in the middle of the street with the hazards on-but knew I'd never get my pants off without help. If she was any smaller-I'm sure we would have. As it was, we made it to the hospital, and the first place I directed DH to was the wrong one. After rushing madly about trying to find someone to help him in an empty hallway, an administrative person told him to go to the emergency entrance. We rushed BACK out into traffic and in the right parking lot/entryway.

When he ran in this time, he apparently didn't stress the urgency of the situation well enough, and the emergency people just directed him down the hall and around the corner to L and D. He asked for a wheelchair and they just said "Oh, they'll handle all that when they check you in." He just looked at them like they were on crack, grabbed a wheelchair, and ran back outside with it. I got in it, immediately arched into a contraction and we entered the building with me ROARING through it. I caught a glimpse out of the corner of one eye of a woman behind the emergency room desk, half standing from her chair as we RAN by, a silent "O" on her lips. The non-laboring part of me was LAUGHING her head off.

Our midwife met us down the hallway, with a big understated and calm "Hi! We're in room two." Another contraction hit once we got in the room, and she tried to get me to breathe through it-I didn't have the concentration to tell her I wasn't actively TRYING to push. We managed to get my pants off, I stood there while she checked me and she said "Oh, you're complete! That baby's head is only about as far in as my first knuckle! Push anytime!"

There was meconium in the water by now and an NICU person was brought in to attend to the baby. I got on the bed and held onto the back while kneeling, but my legs were just jelly, and it wasn't long before I had to get off them and push on my side. I can't believe how much more effective a push is when you have a pushing contraction to work with! I wonder how I EVER got my first child out! No wonder it took two hours! Pushing was not satisfying, and hurt the closer she got to crowning...my roars became higher and higher pitched. Then her head was out... and I wasn't done! Lizzie just sorta slithered out after the head -all in one push. It took at least another minute for me to push her the rest of the way out. I remember screaming at one point- "oh just pull her OUT!" I couldn't believe how much more work it was-and those muscles were just TIRED!

Finally I mustered up a last heave and out she came. I should put "finally" in quotes-we'd been in the room all of ten minutes max. It's amazing how much better you feel-the instant that child leaves your body. I couldn't help but heave a sigh and say "Oh, that's MUCH better!" Because of the meconium, they cut the cord right away and whisked her over to a warmer for suctioning. Even after I got her back, I could hear quite a bit of "singing" as she tried to breathe, but we got a great nursing session in right away.

By the time we weighed her, she had pooped a couple of times, or I bet she would have been a full 10lbs. As it was, I was somewhat of a celebrity around the hospital as a 5 foot 1 inch person birthing a 9lb 13 oz baby in ten minutes. Someone actually said I was a once in a lifetime sort of patient. Katie was with us till I consented to allow them to bathe her and run some tests while I took a shower and grabbed some dinner. They promised not to do any of the typical things they do- like eye goop and shots, so we felt pretty comfortable with it. But we never got her back. They became concerned about her breathing and took her to NICU for observation, and there our adventure began.

In retrospect-the birth was GREAT, but I'm not doing another damn labor in the freaking car! Woman was not made to labor in the front seat! If we ever have another it will be AT HOME. If breathing issues present themselves with a third child, it's nothing that a transfer won't fix. We were never in danger of losing either of our kids in an instant, though they both had breathing troubles. Katie is doing really well-our electrocardiogram at two weeks old showed she's responding well enough to her Viagra treatments that we began weaning her down slowly. As of tomorrow she'll be on a single dose a day, and a week from now she'll be all done. We go in for another look at her heart and capilllaries in mid-May.

It took a full 5 days for Lizzie to finally meet her, but she's totally enamored, and has a really difficult time sharing her with anyone-that was one possibility we never even considered.

It's good to be a family.

The Toof Fairly!

2008-04-05T19:25:00.000-07:00

Baby birthin' isn't the only exciting thing happenning around here! On Wednesday, Josh went home while I was in the NICU with Katie and spent some time with Lizzie. She mentioned a loose tooth, and of course, he promptly forgot all about it in the swing of things. Thursday she bit into a slice of apple and what should fall out? Her very first looth toof! What IS the going rate for first tooth payouts, little tooth fairy?

We're Home!

2008-04-05T15:24:00.000-07:00

We made it home!!! We were released on Friday! WOO HOO! We passed the garden center near our home on our way back and my thoughts turned to planting. In the past, time/life has been organized into before birth/after birth. It made me realize... Life in the NICU is this sorta liminal transitional stage of limbo. We've made it to AFTER. That feels so wonderful!

Sleeping last night was scary... and pretty unsuccessful. It's hard to relax enough to sleep, knowing your baby already has a crappy track record with breathing. This was compounded by the fact that she wasn't nursing well. She'd be ravenous to get on the breast, but then slip off after a few sucks- konked out, or push it away after a few minutes, etc etc. GAH! These were all warning signs we were told to heed that might indicate she was having a hard time breathing, and this morning she looked a little blue around the mouth and nose. So, we ate breakfast and took her in to our local emergency room for monitoring. Fortunately, her saturation levels look good-still in the 90's. But it's so damn HARD not to obsess over every little grunting breath-sometimes it looks like she's really working hard! I've never been scared we would lose her while in the hospital. Its never been touch and go... just serious. But now I feel like we're operating without a net. Overall, I think I might have gotten two or maybe three hours in. Thank goodness she's slept well all day. We've been napping like fools.

Lizzie joined us at lunchtime today. She's spent the last week with either Rich and Rayelle or Grandpa and Grandma Gray. Not bad for a child who has never spent a night without us. She's coping really well, and was SO excited to finally meet her sister. Due to the especially bad RSV season this year, no kids were allowed in the Labor and Delivery wing, and of course they wouldn't allow her in the NICU either. So, she's spent all this time waiting to meet her sister. Every little wiggle Katie makes is noted and eagerly reported. I hope the novelty lasts!

Glug!

2008-04-03T09:18:00.000-07:00

There is a sound a swallowing child makes somewhere between a gulp, a grunt and a moan. Lizzie makes it when she's mainlining a cup of milk, or a glass of water before bed. At midnight last night, I got to hear Katie make it too. I cannot explain how incredibly satisfying it is to hear and feel your child nursing at the breast, knowing you are providing all the sustenance she needs for daily life. I think it feels especially significant now, since she's been in ICU. I no longer feel like a bystander, but instead have become an integral part of her care.

Her nurse and I were working hard to figure out exactly why she wouldn't latch on and one random pinch of the tissue worked miracles. Suddenly she was ON and nursing enthusiastically. There I sat, with my girl at the breast... and the world felt different suddenly. It normalized somehow. Even NICU suddenly became a less artificial and sterile place. All her cords and tubes receded, and we were just a mother and child, going through the motions of normal life.

So far, they're only letting me feed her once a shift. I'm hoping the Doc will allow us to feed on demand after his rounds today. She's still recieving all the nutrients and fluids she needs for daily life via IV, and anything she gets from nursing is just extra. All of her stats are looking very good. The GBS culture's preliminary results are back-and negative of course, though they will continue to watch it incase something grows slowly. There is no electrocardigram ordered for today unfortunately (this would help determine tension levels of the capillaries/veins next to the aveoli.) I guess this is a good thing, as it indicates they have a lot of faith she's healing well and doesn't require such close monitoring, but I'm now a stat junkie, and I want to see exactly HOW MUCH she's improving!

great news!

2008-04-02T19:12:00.001-07:00

Here's the focus of daily life for us right now... our little area in NICU. I didn't end up getting to hold Katie last night because of a small setback, though I did get to touch her. She'd had some retractions, where she was sucking in really deeply to try to breathe and they ended up bumping up her O2 levels to 30% again. They also decided to administer viagra.

A night's worth of treatment worked wonders (as any old man would agree, I'm sure!) and this AM's chest xray and electrocardiogram revealed that the "tension levels" of her veins had relaxed down to 32 (remember we're shooting for mid-20's.) So that gave us quite a bit of hope, but the nurses were still talking about not even starting her in a crib or removing her from O2 until this weekend. The pictures you see here are from around noon, when we both got to hold her for a few minutes. The blue tube you see is the O2 tube that's normally plugged into her hood. The thin tube to her mouth is the OG tube that extends down into her stomach and allows gasses to flow freely out without disturbing her. The pink blob is her hand, swathed in bandages to hold an IV in place.

The day got even gloomier when we discovered it wouldn't be possible for me to stay in the hospital any longer. I was to be discharged in late afternoon, at which point we'd have to say goodbye to Katie and drive an hour home with heavy hearts. While I know she's in great hands, I just hated the thought of being so far away. I did pretty well until I really started thinking about that goodbye and then I just lost it. Not long after, the attending neonatologist stopped in and made the surprising announcement that he had decided to put her in a crib and they'd removed the O2 hood and she was now breathing with the assistance of just a small O2 line under the nose!

They've removed the OG tube from her stomach, and best of all, the Doc said we could begin nursing attempts after the shift change at 4! WOW! What a rollercoaster ride! We'll see how well she tolerates this new change. While I was there after 4, we did see some "singing" (imagine sweet little baby grunts to try to open the aveoli in her lungs) but cross your fingers that it's a temporary thing.

Our nursing session was totally unsuccessful. She has a lot of interest in sucking, and takes the breast well, but doesn't seem to remember what to do with it once she has it. Apparently it hasn't occurred to her to clamp down, and she spends her time getting frustrated with what the heck she's supposed to do. She's happy to suck on my knuckle, and sometimes will take a pacifier, but seems baffled by a boob.

I'm hoping for some advice from a lactation consultant soon. In any case, I got to hold her for almost 2 glorious hours. She's now dressed in a sleeper and wrapped up like a baby burrito in a blanket. I'll go back in at midnight tonight to give it another shot. Incidentally, I'm not officially IN the hospital anymore, but instead was discharged at about 6pm. However, due to the desire to breastfeed, they have graciously allowed me to stay overnight in my old room on my own, assuming they don't fill up and need it. I suppose I could be kicked out at four am... but it seems pretty quiet around these parts and I see a good 5 or 6 rooms open at the moment. Tell the pregnant mamas of western SD to stay gestating!

Our baby girl is HERE!

2008-04-01T17:18:00.000-07:00

First, the good news!

Katherine Bodhi Gray (tentative name)

born 3/31/08 5:09pm

21.5 inches long

9 lbs 13 ozs

I'm afraid I don't really have any great close up photos. We've been pretty busy round these parts and only have what our doula snapped directly after the birth. Hence the baby you see in these photos is still pretty gooey. You'll have to just trust us that she's beautiful for now. Tonight I hope to get the chance to hold her again, and I'll see what I can snap without disturbing her too much.

Labor was AWESOME! My water broke at around 2:30 Monday afternoon. I called Josh home and we didn't exactly run to the van, but we didn't piddle around much either. By the time we left, contractions were about a minute long but only a minute apart. But the time we hit Blackhawk (about 20 minutes outside of Rapid City where our hospital was) my contractions had turned into pushing. I just tried to chill and let my body do the work to prolong things as much as possible. I began active pushing as soon as we were in our room, and she was born 15 minutes later at 5:09. Lets hear it for SHORT labors! Whew! I figure that mom, dad and baby made a pretty outstanding team!

The bad news!

Katie developed some trouble breathing a few hours after birth. At first it presented itself as "singing" or grunting as she drew in each breath. From there it progressed to a lot of retractions and even some desats. Retraction is fairly obvious-you can see the baby's chest and stomach sucking in deeply for each breath. Desats are short for desaturation of the blood. Normally, practitioners like to see oxygen saturation levels in the 90's and there were times when her O2 levels would go down into the low 70's, and she would grey out before coming back up to higher levels. Her breathing wasn't consistent-she had some hitches and pauses. They transfered her to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at about 7pm for observation, and by 1:30am they hadn't seen any improvement in her, so they decided to put her on oxygen and start a round of antibiotics as they were concerned about the possibility of Group B Strep (GBS) infection. The round of antibiotics has earned her a three day minimum stay in ICU. They also ordered a battery of blood tests, cultures and x-rays.

Here is what we know now. Three different rounds of testing for white blood cell production show that her levels are elevated, but seem to be tapering off. We tentatively think this indicates that the production is due to stress, not infection. An additional test looking for inflamation in the body (also a sign of stress) seems to back this conclusion up. It takes 3 days for the GBS cultures to come back with preliminary results of infection, however, so we won't be sure until then.

An initial chest x-ray indicated some fluid in the lungs and a repeat x-ray this afternoon showed an enlarged heart. An electrocardiogram revealed that the enlargement was due to pulmonary hypertension, and NOT some dreaded defect in the heart itself. There is one area of the heart that hasn't closed as it should have, but they are expecting this to resolve on it's own in the next few days.

The heart itself is enlarged due to interuterine stress that has probably been going on in the last few weeks of gestation. Exactly what may have caused this is hard to say, but is apparently "commonly" seen in larger babies. The pulmonary hypertension is what is most likely causing Katie's breathing problems. It's been dumbed down for us and explained like this: The tiny aveoli in her lungs lie next to veins and capillaries. As she breathes in, O2 transfers from the aveoli into these veins and capillaries. The most efficient way for this to happen is if the veins are loose and open, lying closely against the aveoli so that a good transfer can take place. In Katie's body, however, the veins are constricted and lying further away from the aveoli, the body isn't making efficient use of the O2 coming into her lungs and she is forced to work much harder to saturate her blood stream.

We were hoping to see a bit more improvement in her this afternoon so that they might be able to wean her down a bit more from her O2. She had been doing well enough that they were only giving her a mixture of 26% O2 (room air is 21%) but she had some further setbacks early this evening. So, I beleive they are bumping her back up to 30% and have decided to begin actively treating the pulmonary hypertension with a drug. What drug you may ask? Brace yourself! Viagra. Yup! That's right! Viagra works to open up blood vessels, capillaries, and veins to allow the area to fill with blood more easily. What works for old men also works for little girls!

What is most discouraging about this is that while we got a wonderful nursing session in last night before these problems started, we haven't gotten to hold our girl since then. Essentially, we haven't had more than about two hours to get to know her. Stroking your sleeping baby's head around an IV in her hand, an OG tube down her stomach, three different sensors on her chest and abdomen, and another sensor measuring skin temp is a lot different than cuddling her and gazing into her eyes. In fact, they don't even really recommend that we touch her at the moment, as it just disturbs her into a more shallow sleep that prevents a deeper healing. We aren't hurting her when we do, but they don't really feel we are helping either.

I'm struggling to find a balance between what I see as an honest and basic need for her to have human contact and touch and a chance for her to rest and get her poop in a group. How much time should I spend in there with her? Am I a bad mother for staying away or am I doing the right thing? Fortunately, the NICU nurses have been pretty understanding. Guilt... the unavoidable baggage of parenthood. I've struck a balance so far by trying to be with her at the scheduled times when they will be checking her stats and changing diapers anyway. That way, I can sneak in some cuddle time, but it will be during points when she is already being disturbed-that way she's getting the maxium amount of rest in, and I still feel like she (and I!) are getting at least a bit of basic bonding time.

I'm extremely grateful to have gotten in some good nursing last night just after labor. She was a very hungry little girl, and latched on both sides for a good 20 minutes each followed by an additional short session later. Hopefully, that established a foundation for nursing later, and gave her a chance to snatch up some colostrum. She's recieving fluids, nutrients and fats through an IV. They really don't want to jeapordize her breathing by trying to have her suck at this point. For now, I'm pumping and saving every single drop of colostrum I get for when she CAN have it.

Shift change is almost over, and I get to go hold my little girl now. Our intentions are to post updates here, so check back over the course of the next few days to learn more.

Purty!

2008-03-18T18:32:00.001-07:00

My belly is big...

But it's purty!

35 weeks... or could it be 37 weeks?!?

2008-03-05T08:58:00.001-08:00

I must have reached maximum capacity. I don't see a whole lot of changes in growth over the past few weeks.

Why the discrepancy in dates? Well, you're witnessing the special kind of desperation that all women go through when they reach this point in the pregnancy. Oh and the name for this point? It's called HELL.

Most caregivers will measure a woman at each appointment to check for consistent growth in the baby. For the last month and a half, I've consistently measured two weeks ahead of time. At my last appointment on the 25th when I was 34 weeks, I measured SIX weeks ahead. yeah, that's right... I was measuring 40 weeks-full term. Now that's not crazy- the baby could have been in a different position, I was getting measured by a different person... all kinds of things might account for it. A quick ultrasound estimated us at 36 weeks (again with the two weeks ahead.) Now, ultrasounds aren't super on when it comes to estimating by this stage of development either. So in reality, we don't know THAT much more than we did. But the desperate preganant woman still likes to THINK she's 37 weeks, ya dig?

Thirty Four Weeks

2008-02-24T18:49:00.000-08:00

Still here. Still pregnant. Still Big.

32 weeks

2008-02-12T21:00:00.000-08:00

Am I bigger? Can we fit 8 weeks more of growth in here? Sorry about the door shadow! I was anxious to see a side by side comparison...

I Dunno People....

2008-01-31T02:00:00.000-08:00

Tonight at knitting night, I confessed I thought I might already be as big as I was at 39 weeks pregnant with Lizzie. I was promptly assured that I wasn't. I couldn't be THAT big yet. So, for those of you who haven't been keeping track, tomorrow I'll be 31 weeks. Here's a comparison shot.

Here I am tonight.

Two days before Lizzie was born 5 years ago.

While this baby might be carrying a bit lower tonight, I don't think there's a huge difference in size. Am I wrong?

Pubic Pain

2008-01-28T15:12:00.000-08:00

My pubic bones are starting to hurt if I sit too long. It’s pretty common, and more so in second pregnancies. You know the feeling-like if you’ve rode on a tiny, hard bike seat for hours? Last night, as I lay in bed with a cold gel pack between my legs to forestall some of the pain, I had an epiphany. I just came up with the BEST name for a new topical pain reliever to help keep expectant moms comfortable.

ICY TWAT!

Scottish Kilt Wearers Barstool

2008-01-22T14:51:00.000-08:00

Boy! Just look at all that hand carving and polishing!

The final frontier

2008-01-10T18:37:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the third trimester. We are now 28 weeks, or 7 months pregnant. There are 12 weeks until blast off.

The other day I heard about an invention that just never quite took off in the 1970's... Apparently someone invented some sort of centrifugal device designed to spin the baby out. I'm imagining riding a turn table around and around, withe the speed being slowly turned up as my screams pitched to a higher and higher level. LOL!

Are we DONE yet?

2007-12-25T19:40:00.000-08:00

Noob is 25 weeks 4 Days

As you can see, the timer (known to the uninitiated as a belly button) now sticks out. Shouldn't this mean this bird is ready to fly?

Nightmares

2007-12-21T14:49:00.000-08:00

Ever since I read The Shipping News by Annie Proulx, I've had a desire to see Newfoundland. So, when I ran across some mention of Screech and discovered it was connected to the island, I was intrigued. Apparently, there was an exchange back in the day between ships journeying south to the Caribbean with loads of salted cod and returning with barrels of molasses and rum. A thick sediment of sugary stuff would collect in these barrels over time, so it would be heated up, fermented, and distilled to create a form of rum unique to Newfoundland. It's still bottled and sold today, though I hear the very best (and most potent) stuff is home brewed on the sly.

What really intrigues me is the fairly recent practice of holding Screech-Ins. Custom dictates that visitors are made honorary Newfies by doing a shot of Screech, kissing a cod, and reciting some Newfie verses or sayings. I thought this would be fun until I read the middle step. Anyone who knows me knows I'm deathly phobic about fish. I hear that some even like to single out a few people and insist they tounge the fish. I'll be having some nightmares tonight. Dude-would you put your tounge in this mouth?

Furoshiki

2007-12-20T15:32:00.000-08:00

I've been inspired! I just watched the neatest video on Furoshiki-the Japanese art of cloth folding. Before the advent of the plastic shopping bag, it was quite common in Japan to see a large cloth skillfully folded around an object or gift. The practice has died out in more recent times, but seems to be making a come back, in part due to the Japanese ministry of culture which has begun to advocate it as a more green practice. It makes me want to wrap all my Christmas presents this way. I've always taken special care to wrap my gifts-I am always in love with the ribbons and the bows. Well, until the end, when I'm out of the special gew gaws and sick unto death of wrapping yet another item. Check out this poster, which has guidelines for creating everything from beautiful wraps for bottles, (as pictured above) to handbags. Wouldn't you love your knitting in one of those? I wonder if you could wrap a baby in those bags to make a sling? I'd have to figure out what to do with the knots...

Perkins

2007-12-10T10:07:00.000-08:00

We have a new occupant of the household. Perkins was found in the parking lot of the Mitchell Perkins restaurant Thanksgiving weekend. He put some seriously lovey moves on Lizzie and I when we discovered him. At first I felt bad, but hardened my heart-we can NOT keep 4 cats, one dog, one five year old, and a baby in a 16x 80 single wide trailer house. It simply cannot be done! But oh how he loved on Lizzie …cats don’t like little kids THAT well, no matter how well behaved the child is. Lizzie was so charmed with him! He was so scrawny. It was so cold! It was about to get even COLDER.

We gave him some of the chicken we had left over from lunch. He horked it down. I opened the door to the van to let out the dog for a pee… The cat jumped in the van. I scooped him out.

Josh put Lizzie in the carseat and strapped her in. The cat got in AGAIN. Josh looked at me. I sighed in disgust and said- "OH just close the damn door!" “Perkins” laid in my lap and purred and nuzzled me for the WHOLE 6 hours home and never cried once about being in the car or showed any fear of riding. We let him out twice at rest stops to potty (the cat farts-SERIOUSLY.) He made sure to say DAMN close so we couldn't leave him. It’s weird to have a cat you can let out at rest stops, eh?

He's so GREATFUL to be with us. The vet agrees with me that he’s under a year- but he’s close to it-he was probably an early spring kitten. He needs neutered and has been in some scuffles-a torn ear, various small scabs about the body and a big scratch across the nose. But he is the most PERSONABLE little man-cat I've met in quite some time.

We’ve finally been allowing him out of the bathroom where we kept him until we could make sure he was free of any communicable diseases. He’s a whole six pounds. He’s still got about half the house to explore. He’s been really cautious about leaving his safe places. Simon takes special joy in beating the ever living CRAP out of him-or at least rushing him. This shouldn't be so bad- since my poor little white cat is the biggest dufus on the planet and couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag. BUT, Simon outwieghs Perkins by a good....12 lbs probably, and I'm not sensing a lot of fight in the poor kid. So, for now, he tends to stay in "high places" around the house, where he can see Simon coming, like the back of the couch, the windowsills, and the top of the litter box bench. Meanwhile, Simon lurks under the furniture and in dark hidey holes and delights in ambushing Perkins. He doesn't even really have to unsheath his claws-just give the poor scrawny thing a good scare and Perkins is howling and spitting as he hies it back into the bathroom to his "safe place" - the space between the toilet and the bathtub where his bed is.

It's like some feline soap opera I tell ya.

Motherhood

2007-11-30T07:54:00.000-08:00

I read recently, about a five week old baby boy who died of SIDS. He and his parents were at a holiday party being thrown by members of a birthing class he had attended. He nursed at his mother's breast for awhile, fell asleep, bled from the nose just a bit and then stopped breathing. That was it. He was gone. All efforts to revive him were made- another father at the party began infant CPR right away, and he was life flighted to a hospital nearby. But, he wasn't breathing on his own for several hours. By then, he'd suffered irreprable damage and his brain had shut down. Within a few days, his parents had said their goodbyes and made the choice to turn off life support. His organs were donated to others in need.

Incidentally, I know someone who was able to donate her sons eyes, and I can't tell you how healing it is to think of Cody's baby blue eyes gazing out and really seeing the world for the first time.

What really strikes me about this case is the timeless quality of it. Mothers today are haunted by the specter of SIDS. We're told to lie our infants on their backs to sleep-then NO put them on their sides-fluffy bankets increase the risk-sleeping in a family bed increases the risk-NO it decreases the risk-smoking mothers have increased risk of SIDS babies-breastfeeding mothers have a decreased risk. Sometimes the information is conflicting, sometimes it seems downright crazy. The truth is, we have no idea what single or multiple factors cause it. All we can do is follow the instructions of our "experts" and hope the specter is warded away by our practices and the totems we use- such as side sleepting pillows and thin blankets.

I watched a program once about a Roman era archeological site in Britian (the name of the town I've long forgotten and some serious Google-Fu didn't turn up anything to supplement our discussion.) There were an unusually high number of infants buried there, ranging in ages from pre-term to 3 years of age. With burials found in the floors of homes, to just outside the doors and even in the cemeteries, it's not uncommon to see evidence of infanticide in Roman towns. Most often these babies are unwanted newborn girls-but in this town the sex ratio was fairly equal. Additionally, in many cases these were not discarded children, but clearly loved, as small tokens such as a hair brush or a necklace were often buried with them. Further analysis revealed high amounts of lead in the teeth and bones of these children-pointing to the true cause of their deaths-lead poisioning. Lead was common in Roman times, used in everything from cooking utensils to face paints to water piping. While literature tells us they were at least somewhat cognizant of the dangers of lead posioning, the entire population of this Frontier post shows elevated levels of lead in their bodies. Imagine knowing a silent spectre was creeping about in the night, killing the most innocent and helpless of your loved ones. You cling to the words of the most wise of your people, keep small trinkets and feed special morsels that are said to help ward from death. Sound familiar?

In the end, the reasons are different, the methods are different, but we still experience the same fear and the same pain of loss as millions of different women down through the ages. We often elevate ourselves due to our own apparent understanding of science and our modernity, but in the end, motherhood is the same no matter where or when you live. From the moment you discover you are carrying life inside you, you become a member of a timeless sisterhood of women-who have all loved, hoped, prayed, and suffered for a child. We are linked with all the women who have ever placed a gentle hand on the chest of a child to make sure they were still breathing.

baby names?

2007-11-27T09:00:00.000-08:00

So, I was convinced I was having a boy. We've had a boy name, Isaac Zachary, (yeah, I know his nickname would probably end up baby Zach Zach) picked out since before Lizzie's birth and consequently, hadn't really been too concerned with finding a girl name. Anytime I considered it I couldn't think of anything that really tripped my trigger. I've got a couple of rules of thumb:

1. Kids should have the chance to have cute nicknames
2. Adults should have names that has some dignity to them
3. Variations on spelling are just stupid and trite
4. "Unique" names just end up looking like pathetic attempts to nuture the individuality of your child
5. Following a theme when naming your kids-such as making them all start with the same letter-you know it makes you wanna gag!

Chances are, it's the old traditional sorts of names that really make me happy. I've looked back through the abundant records of Josh's family tree (and what we have of mine) but I'm still not seeing anything great. Josh's family goes back quite aways on the East Coast, and has some GREAT old Puritan names (and noteables in some cases) like:

Hepsibah Fruit
Cotton Mather
Increase Mather
Zecheriah
Zebidah

Only one' is a girl's name, but you get the idea, right? Somehow, I just can't quite make those work. Surely you see why? So I'm sending out the call- got anything you love? Here's a few I've toyed with:

Katherine (mostly cause I wanna call my child "Kat")
Bodhi (Yeah, I know-it totally violates that whole unique rule- but it's got this cool meaning and tomboy sorta vibe going for it)
Murphy (My mom's idea-but a bit too mannish for me)
Belle (Lizzie's idea, short for Isabelle, which I happen to really like, but many people think it's awfully close to Elizabeth in sound)

So- let 'em rip!

chicks-we digs 'em!

2007-11-26T15:52:00.001-08:00

chicks- we digs em!

It's a girl!

Disturbing baby clothes..

2007-11-18T20:21:00.000-08:00

So I was looking for some cute baby clothes on cafepress.com and found some seriously disturbing t-shirts. Cafepress is good at suppressing image stealing (*sniffle*) so I can't show you pictures... but here are a few slogans...

#10. Daddy drinks cause I cry
#9. Mommy drinks cause I cry
#8. I drink 'till I pass out, just like my Dad
#7. Proof my Mommy liked the drummer
#6. I just did 9 months in the Hole
#5. Daddy's little tax deduction
#4. Still sore from the Bris
#3. Dingo Bait
#2. Mother Sucker

annnd the ABSOLUTE WORST thing I saw?!?

#1. Hung like a five year old

Sometimes I wish I could crochet!

2007-11-14T14:36:00.000-08:00

Now, I'm a terrible crochetter- or "crotch-et-er" as we say 'round my house. As a little girl, I used to chain strings to make halters and bridles for my Breyer horses or when I really had my mojo working, I'd make saddles (squares with little straps attached for a girth) and stable blankets for my trusty steeds, but this was the extent of my abilities. Knitting anything larger meant I made a triangle-because I was forever dropping stitches at the end. I gave it all up in disgust once I'd grown out of playing on my knees and making little horsie noises. Puberty hit-and I was forced to face the facts that I was a rotten crotch-et-er.

Fast forward almost 20 years and patterns like these make me ALMOST itchy to pick up a hook... Amigurumi means "Knitted or Crocheted Toy" and man are they cute. What do you expect from the Japanese-who afterall, have perfected the art of Cute.

Wiki says "The simplest designs are worked in spirals. In contrast to typical Western crochet the rounds are not usually joined. They are also worked with a smaller size hook in proportion to the weight of the yarn in order to create a very tight-looking fabric without any gaps through which the stuffing might escape. Amigurumi are usually worked in sections and then joined, except for some amigurumi which have no limbs, only a head and torso which are worked as one piece. The extremities are often stuffed with plastic pellets to give them a life-like weight, while the rest of the body is stuffed with fiber stuffing.

The pervading aesthetic of amigurumi is cuteness. To this end, typical amigurumi animals have an over-sized spherical head on a cylindrical body with undersized extremities."

Mr. Manatee

A Fishie and his Dad

Oh My GOD look at those little pink CHEECKS!

*splat* (head explodes)

Oh look! Happy Pills!

Knitters! Get Knocked Up!

2007-11-08T07:24:00.000-08:00

Here we have a classic example of why it's so important that we suck more knitters into having babies. I've ranted before at the hideous and totally impractical baby accouterments out there people have proudly knit for poor unfortunate new souls. This is a really innovative idea that would only come from someone intimately connected to daily life with an infant. Seaweed is a cover that buttons over your coat and baby (who is presumably riding in a carrier or sling) to protect the wee munchkin from the cold winds of winter. It's simple, yes-but a MARVELOUS idea. Way to go Anna-Maria! I've always wondered how to negotiate life with a sling and winter!

Now in all reality, I probably won't knit this-despite how tickled I am with it. I figure I'll have far less cause here in vehicle friendly SD to spend time walking with a baby than in pedestrian friendly Vienna. Most of the time I'll be out will be with Bebe' in a car seat. But I really like the idea, nonetheless!

Honestly, I think if we had more pattern designers out there who were actually knitting items out of a real need, rather than a desire to just "make a baby sweater" we'd come up with some really outstanding patterns. So often something I run across is cute- but totally impractical, either due to the way it's put on, the thickness, the washing care needed... I dunno, maybe I'm just a utilitarian sort of knitter. Up with practicality!

A sobering fact for the day

2007-10-22T15:31:00.000-07:00

There are 23 counties in SD that offer Labor and Delivery services-that's 23 out of 66. Check out this handy dandy little map. Click on it to biggify and or visit http://www.sdsafebirth.org/ for more info. That is a sobering image, is it not? Now, the geographer in me must be fair and compare this with a population map.

Click on this one to biggify too.

Obviously we DO have a correlation here. Birthin' facilities are reserved for population centers. The majority of our population can safely drive an hour or less to encounter trained staff to assist with their birth. But what about all the people who can't? Sure they're a minority, but doesn't the need for medical treatment and safety apply equally to all people? I'd like to know how many people in these counties without services DO birth at home? How many people need to drive more than an hour to reach delivery services?

Maybe this is why...

2007-10-10T19:40:00.000-07:00

Maybe this is why I keep getting the dry heaves. THIS is what I have to look forward to. This is me, in ALL MY GLORY, two days before giving birth to Lizzie.

Fizzies!

2007-10-09T20:01:00.001-07:00

Well, I tried the ginger ale! It doesn't look so yummy from here, does it? The ginger in there was mashed with my Pampered Chef garlic masher, and I added lime zest. There's honey drizzled over the whole thing, but what are those green leaves in there? Lemon Balm! After growing it for about 4 years and admiring the smell, I finally actually used it in something! If you've never had lemon balm, I would describe it as a lemony Pledge smell, minus all the nasty chemicals. It's a light and lovely lemon scent-not sharp like the real thing, just very homey and relaxing. As a relatively mild herb, it's safe for pregnancy and is used most for relaxation-especially those with stress related stomach troubles. It was a GREAT addition!

Just after this picture was taken, I added approximately 2 cups of boiling water and allowed it to steep. Oh LA! It is GOOD! It took me awhile to figure out the proportions for the final concentrate. Our recipe doesn't say anything, but I've decided I prefer it a bit weaker than I originally made it. If you are using a short tumbler, I'd say you need approximately an inch of concentrate to a full glass of seltzer. I also didn't add enough honey-but that's what you get for not measuring!

For me, this is guilt free soda. I don't mind drinking honey-I don't feel so bad about my body processing something that is a much more natural material than nasty old white sugar. Plus, there's still much LESS sweetener in this than in a real soda. Last but not least, there's no caffeine! So, I get a break from plain water AND get something fizzy-which is what I love and miss most about soda. Two thumbs up from me!

I dunno if it does anything for my nausea, but today wasn't so bad...

I got a 7

2007-10-09T14:57:00.000-07:00

Think you have a decent grasp of dining etiquette? What about international etiquette?

http://www.fekids.com/img/kln/flash/DontGrossOutTheWorld.swf

Real Ginger Ale

2007-10-05T12:51:00.000-07:00

2 tablespoons fresh ginger grated
2 lemon rinds
honey to taste
1 cup boiling water
1 quart seltzer
Put the ginger and lemon rinds in a small bowl with the honey. Pour in
boiling water, just enough to cover. Let steep for 5 minutes. Strain and chill. When ready to serve, add seltzer.

Sounds damn yummy! I can't wait to try it, but thought I might as well share the wealth. Perhaps it will stop my dry heaves. Remember when your parents plied you with ginger ale when you were sick? I wonder if that was just to keep you hydrated, or if there were once health benefits to the ginger? If I weren't so damn lazy, I'd look it up. Discuss amongst yourselves.

And now for something completely different..

2007-09-23T15:37:00.000-07:00

and far less whiney. Today we promised the rugrat much kite flying after the dungeon that is her room was cleaned. There was much whining until the kite bribe was dangled. It's all about the leverage, ladies and gentlemen.

It's quite windy out today-maybe as much as 30 mph at times. We've had a few gusts that moved items on the deck. At one point we actually snapped the line on the kite and had to chase it through a few neighborhood yards. The wind wasn't constant, and the gusts made the kite do crazy and unpredictable things-like dive bomb us, or attempt to clothesline Josh. Good fun! But our kite is quickly becoming ratty. We've had it for about 10 years. It was the first kite I ever owned that wasn't crappy plastic-purchased at the Mall of America while I was in college. It's given good service, considering we've done ludicrous things like fly it out the windows of moving cars. But the poles have worn holes in all the support flaps. It may be time to buy a new kite.

Kites aren't really a big thing in the midwest. I suspect the constant breezes at the ocean shore make for a far more devoted following on the coasts. You don't really see many out flying-but who doesn't smile when they do? In any case, I had no idea there were such outlandish things flying the skies out there (or that kites could be so darn cheap!)

I mean, I knew kites came in shapes- but who knew there were 3D clownfish with 70 in wingspans for under $30?!? Or tall masted ships with rainbow sails? There's one star shaped kite that spins as it flies for $18?!? My kid is SO getting a kite for her birthday!

But the thing that made my jaw drop are the kites and fliers out there who purposely have designed kites so big, and with so much pull, that they literally pull their fliers off the ground. People ride around in buggies, or ski through the snow with these puppies. I can't imagine how much fun that would be!

Thy name is Mud

2007-09-21T15:15:00.000-07:00

Time for a maudlin interlude, girls and boys...courtesy of an over-hormonal pregnant woman.

*********

Once upon a time, there was a girl. The girl loved dirt. First the girl discovered hidden things in the dirt. Dead people. Dishes. Remnants of people from long ago. Clues to stories about every day lives and every day struggles in worlds long past. And the girl went to college. And she studies ways to tease out more of those stories. And it was good. For awhile.

But the girl grew unsatisfied. She felt the physical gap between herself and the those people in the past. She could see their dishes, and their cast aside tools, but she didn't know them. And she realized she never would know them through the dry science that is archeology. The dirt would never yield the real measures and stories of their lives. She would always be starving for something she could never have.

She required something more visceral to feed her soul. The girl remembered clay, which is just another form of dirt. She remembered the sensual feel of it, the hypnotic quality of the wheel. She took a class. She took another class. When she threw on the wheel, she felt the clay move beneath her hands at the slightest touch. When she threw, she must be centered to center the clay. She must throw with her whole body, not just her fingers, or her hands, or her arms. When she threw, the whole world melted away. As with most things, she threw her entire self into this new process. It became her whole identity. She was a potter.

When she left college, she simply went to a different sort of school-to an apprenticeship. To a studio in North Carolina, where she learned about economies of movement, about the Zen of creating the same thing day after day. She learned to judge the temperature of the kiln by the cherry red of the pots inside. The girl built her own humble wood kiln, and listened to the crackle of brick as it shattered in the heat, and heard the roar of the flame as she fed a dragon ever more wood through a long southern summer night. She imagined the ash as it flew out of the fire box-landing on the shoulders of her pots to melt into a beautiful gray glaze.

She returned to the plains, convinced she would find her way in the world as a potter. Finding studio space was hard, the wheel cost more than her paycheck, the kilns just lucky finds bought second hand for a song. She squeaked along, working full time, throwing when she could. She bought a house with a shed she converted to a studio. She learned to wire it for electricity, insulated it as best she could. The credit card bills mounted. Still she persevered, though the obstacles now gave her pause, made her wonder how she'd ever do it.

The studio had only a dirt floor, and $1200 worth of gas could be gone in a month during the winter, but the clay had to be kept thawed, or the work would be ruined. The kilns were electric, the glazes cold and sterile. The girl learned to let go of impractical ideals, to live within her means. She threw while it stayed above freezing. She learned to work around the sterility of an oxidation firing. She found places to sell her work, from galleries in the Black Hills to Norwegian church bazaars.

But the obstacles continued to mount and new frustrations began to creep in. Work schedules became less flexible. Her glaze wasn't performing right. The color was wrong. It crackled and wasn't food safe or crawled off the pot in firings. Her sense of two dimensional design was pathetic and the awful little brushings on the sides of the mugs and bowls at looked tentative and tight. She began to hate herself for her inadequacies. At some point the obstacles just got to big.

I quit. I let go of that identity, though I wondered who the hell I was and where the hell I was going. I couldn't face my own perceived failures. Being a shitty potter wasn't good enough, though it broke my heart to let it go. I hated myself for not being able to fix all the things I saw that were wrong. The bad handles. The shitty decorations. The intractable glaze chemistry. It was all a direct attach on my own self worth. When I moved from that house and that studio, I took an aluminum baseball bat to hundreds of mugs and bowls and plates that were still in there. I sort of liked the idea that an archaeological investigation some day might reveal the discarded pieces of someones presence-though it wouldn't really tell the story. I sold my kilns to a nice guy who needed the same break that someone once gave me. But I couldn't sell the wheel. You wouldn't sell your baby, would you?

But now I want to throw. And, I have an opportunity to do so. But it will never be the same as it was. I have other responsibilities now, other identities too. I'm not sure I can give everything I have to it again... and clay does not forgive. It won't wait for you to spend quality time with your child or your husband. It's got it's own timetable. It's own path. I'm not sure if it's worth it.

I'm not sure if I'm in my right mind making such a big deal out of it! LOL! I'm not even sure if I'm in my right mind posting such overly dramatic juvenile drivel in a public forum!

Baby Got Back!

2007-09-13T15:38:00.001-07:00

Who knew babies had buttcheeks at 11 weeks?!?

Tell me you don't want to just pinch it?!?

Sleeping Beauty and the Spindle

2007-08-18T20:16:00.000-07:00

Okay, bear with me people. I didn't get my so very necessary pregnancy nap today, and, despite the fact I was able to sleep in till the blessed time of 9:30, I am now fading quickly... zzzzzzz....

Tonight before bed, we read a couple of traditional fairy tales to Lizzie. Oh wait-let's qualify that. We read some Walt Disney fairy tales. These are only traditional if you are a red blooded American. I'm not sure if I ever had the chance to watch Sleeping Beauty. It seems to be out of production on video. I've never seen it for rent. Yet I know some of the scenes, from commercials and television shows. I know the basic story...

A King and a Queen want very badly to have a child, and when finally a baby girl is born to them, they hold a great celebration and invite 3 fairies to bless her. One gives her beauty, one gives her...erm... something else, but before the 3rd can bestow her gift, another fairy crashes the party. This one is livid about her exclusion, and as payback, curses the baby to die from pricking her finger on a spindle before her 16th birthday has passed. The third fairy quickly steps in and amends the curse to stipulate she will only fall asleep until she is awoken by a kiss of true love. The fairies whisk the child away to a forest home, where she can be protected and where she grows up in ignorance of her true heritage. On her 16th birthday, she chances across a serious hunk of a man and returns to the forest cottage and her three "aunties" to tell the tale of her new love. The fairies come clean and explain she is already betrothed and then take her to the castle, assuming that since the kid hasn't cacked it yet, she's safe from the curse. Poor Sleeping Beauty is having a pretty hard time dealing with this sudden change of events and has a meltdown at the castle. The fairies give her some time alone to pull it together, and wouldn't you know, the silly twit is lured to a lonely castle tower where she discovers a spinning wheel. The minute she reaches out to touch the spindle, her finger is pricked and she falls into a deep sleep. The fairies do a little damage control by putting the whole castle to sleep, and then set off in search of this hunky forest dude, in hopes he can break the spell. Armed with a sword, shield and something else, the Prince defeats the evil fairy (who has turned herself into a dragon) and fights through the brambles about the castle to break in on his true love, slip her a little tongue and miraculously, the whole castle awakes. And, they live happily ever after.

Okay, I'm getting to my point finally...What the hell is up with pricking your finger on a spindle? How the hell is that even possible? When I've done spinning demos, people have asked about this. There IS no part on a spinning wheel that is a spindle. We've got bobbins, a distaff, even strange things called mother-of-alls... but no spindle. A spindle is an alternative tool to spin with... Old Walt really needs to get his poop in a group. So again tonight, I began to wonder about this tale, and the errors it had picked up in it's sanitization for the American kiddees. Remember, Snow White's evil stepmother was punished by dancing away in slippers of molten lead in the Grim version. Grim indeed. I recalled that there seems to be an inordinate amount of necrophilia in the old versions... that little kiss to wake the Sleeping Beauty began to take on a more nefarious tone for me. So! Here's the real version, which is actually older than the Brother's Grim-how did their own sanitizing for the kiddees... We can trace this one all the way back to Giambattista Basile (1575-1632), an Italian who undoubtedly simply recorded a common story told by peasants.

A king has his daughter's future foretold. He learns she will die from a sliver of flax. Naturally, he has all hemp and flax removed from his castle. Wouldn't you know it, the girl chances on an old woman spinning flax and she immediately is intrigued by the texture and sits down to spin the fiber with a spindle. A sliver of flax chances to work it's way under her nail and she immediately falls down dead. The shattered father arranges her as if she were asleep on his throne, and shuts the castle up-never setting foot in it again. Many years pass and another king chances upon the castle while out hawking. His hawk flies inside and he enters to retrieve it. What he sees is a fetching young woman seemingly asleep on a throne. She's apparently pretty hot-even if she is dead. Much rumpity pumpity occurs. Later he leaves and forgets all about his dalliance with the dead girl. Nice huh? Well, despite her corpse status, the princess is apparently incredibly fertile and gives birth to twins-a boy and a girl, who suckle from her breasts while she slumbers. At some point, one of the children has some difficulty reaching a nipple and instead finds the finger with the sliver in it. The child promptly sucks it out, and the Princess is revived. She cares for the children and time passes. In the meantime, the King finds himself remembering the girl in the throne room and returns, only to find a living girl and his two children. He stays with them a bit, but later returns to his Queen and his kingdom. The Queen finds out about the mistress and children and orders the cook to bake them and serve them to the King. The cook takes pity on the kids and hides them-serving the King to goat kids instead. The Queen schemes to have the Princess thrown on in a fire, but the King arrives in the nick of time and gives the Queen a taste of her own medicine. He marries the Princess and THEN they live happily ever after. So I ask you, would you marry a dude who raped you when you were dead?

Wanna see a bit more? perhaps some analysis?

http://www.mouseplanet.com/fairytales/ft011011.htm

So, there was no spinning wheel in the original-nor was a spindle even the real culprit! ...and, didn't I tell you there was a lot of necrophilia in these old stories?

It's my Party!

2007-08-08T07:21:00.001-07:00

It's my burfday! In honor of my 31st year, I bring you random fiber related art!

The Chiquita Banana Girl Heads North...

"Knitting Practice" - Helen Arcker Farmer
Boy, this woman looks strong and full of grace.
That's my birthday wish for the next 30 years.

1879 - "Tricoteuse" - Adolphe-William Bouguereau
This girl smolders, doesn't she?
I'm going to try to cultivate a smoldering look as I knit.
She looks jaded, sarcastic, and sexy as hell!

1869 - "The Knitting Girl" - Adolphe-William Bouguereau
I do love this guy's work-especially his use of light and shadow.

2003 - "The 26,000" - Shane Waltener
"26,000 knots suspended above the knot garden at St Mary’s Churchyard, one for each of the 26,000 bodies buried there"

2005?- "Tree Cozy" - Carol Hummel
Holy shit! That takes a whole new level of spatial planning and forethought!
How did she know when to start another branch, unless she was sitting in the tree while she knit?!?

Had to leave you with a stunner.
No name for this one.
Check out the rest-I'm especially fond of the pink unicorn!

This is just how I feel too!

2007-08-07T14:24:00.001-07:00

Did ya catch that snazzy house those babies have? I think we'll be living in something similar when daycare goes up to $885.00 each month.

Huh!

2007-08-06T17:50:00.000-07:00

photographed lying where I dropped it.

For those of you not familiar with procreation, this indicates conception and pregnancy within the said urinator-said urinator, of course, being me. Now, before you begin viewing this as the perfect opportunity to try out that cute new baby pattern-I have had a history of non-committal babies that decided the womb just wasn't as comfy as they thought it would be, and who decide to split. Wait till we hear a heatbeat to get too excited. We wouldn't want a permutation of the boyfriend sweater curse to take root!

How many brains are in ma buket?

2007-08-01T15:22:00.000-07:00

Hold the phone people, we're havin' ourselves a contest!

I scream You scream

2007-07-27T07:17:00.000-07:00

There's a new ice cream store in our town - "Sweety's." They sell Fjord's Ice Cream-a locally made hard ice cream that's been around for at least the past 25 years. Its located in an old garage attached to a local take 'n bake pizza place. We checked it out last night. My family chose Mint Chip, Oreo Cheesecake, and Mango something or other. My mango did not taste like a mango, as I had hoped, but was still a damn good ice cream cone. The mint chip was quickly devoured, but the apparent star of the evening was the Oreo Cheesecake, which was passed back and forth from father and child until it disappeared.

Here's what I really like about this place: All ice cream is served with a cherry on top. Even if you don't like maraschino cherries, you gotta admit its a neat and old fashioned touch. All ice cream is served with optional sprinkles-at no extra charge. They've got that rainbow confetti stuff, crushed oreos, Reece's peanut butter cups, you name it. You can opt for a waffle cone-again, at no extra charge. Cones are a bit expensive at $2.50 for a single dip, but worth it for the quality of the ice cream and the atmosphere of the place.

But the most endearing part about this place is it's shoestring appearance. The sign at the entrance is small and obviously homemade. It makes no effort to hide the fact that it is an ice cream store set up in the mouth of a garage. The store front is open to the weather and cobbled together from old fence boards and rough cut wood that has been painted cheerily. It blocks the garage entrance and provides a counter for folks to order at. Inside, the garage is bare, except for a freezer, a preparation counter, and some Rubbermaid boxes to hold cones and supplies. On the concrete in front are two cheap patio sets for folks to enjoy their ice cream and some sidewalk chalk for the little people. Everything is clean and tidy, but one can't be looking at an investment of more than $500.00. It's marvelous!

I feel like I am witnessing the birth of something special-because it is beginning from such humble origins. I feel so proud of this person for not taking the easy road out and dumping loads of money into a new business just to give it a highly commercial and polished feel. I understand that temptation and pressure! Instead this place feels much more honest and real. I hope she makes it! Huzzah to the underdog!

Fear

2007-07-23T19:31:00.000-07:00

Phobia: pho·bi·a (fō'bē-ə) n.
1. A persistent, abnormal, and irrational fear of a specific thing or situation that compels one to avoid it, despite the awareness and reassurance that it is not dangerous.

2. A strong fear, dislike, or aversion.

I can NOT explain how incredibly facking frightening I find fish. Any fish. Leetle itsy bitsy minnows. Nasty pasty bellied catfish the size of your aunt Bertha. Bubble headed goldfish. Any fish. They all make my blood run cold. Sauntering past the aquariums in a local store, I can suddenly levitate five feet in midair at the sight of an anomaly on the carpet-sure that what I caught out of the corner of my eye was a fish that jumped from the tank and is now stuck on the rug. It's a major hassle to locate and position a store ladder near the ceiling light so that I can then climb down.

It's not the idea of being somehow eaten by them-I never really bought the whole Jaws thing. It's the concept of touching one. It's staring back into that flat dead gaze. It's watching those gills gasp for breath. Pardon me while I pull off my shoes and check for minnows. I sincerely wish that I could explain the feelings they incite for me. At first I thought, perhaps it would be the sort of feeling one might feel if they saw a chainsaw swinging towards an exposed leg- but nah-that's just pain, and infinitely more preferable. The only analogy I can make is that, the closer I get in proximity to that magnificent trout you are proudly showing off, the more it begins to resemble this fella....

Growing up in an avid fishing family with such a phobia can be quite a hardship. Fortunately, it took very little for my relatives to understand the depth of my fear and the actual cruelty of tossing a fish into the front of the boat with me. Either that, or their eardrums suffered permanent scarring from the involuntary string of filth that emanated from my mouth. However, such a close association with fishermen also afforded me a bit of an education about proper fish habitat-and in some ways, made it possible for me to swim in lakes.

My swimming was based on two practices:

1. Never go deeper than you can safely haul your booty out in 1.5 seconds if a finny creature is spotted.

2. OR Swim only in waters at least 40 feet deep, with no submerged structures (i.e. trees, cliffs, stumps.)

You see, fish, just like you and me, don't really care to be exposed and vulnerable. They stick to rock piles, or sunken trees where they can hide from predators. All of the fish in my neck of the woods tend to abide by this psychology, so in 40 foot of water, one can generally assume they will be safe from the revolting bastards. But this also means that I don't get much actual swimming done-just paranoid wading.

Last weekend we visited a spot on the stream that flows through our town that I refer to as "The Swimming Hole." The swimming hole is a wonderful place. It has a rope that swings out over a deep hole in the creek (which generally isn't more than 2-3 feet deep.) Just off the stump you see pictured here is a hole over 6 feet deep. The water is very clear and bone achingly cold at a 63 degrees. Twenty feet away, you find gravel banks that are just perfect for letting little people dip their toes in an inch of water. It's a major stopping point for happy tubers drifting down the creek on a summer's day. There's something for everyone here. We love it!

On this particular visit, the creek was very busy. Tubers were drifting by every 10 minutes or so, and three brave little boys were caroming through the air on the rope to splash into the "hole" or leaping off the stump, only to surface with gasps and yells in reaction to the cold water. Now, I'll have you know, when the "hole" gets active, the fish that "chill" there, move to quieter parts. The biggest fish I've ever seen in the creek came outta that freaking hole.

It was 102 F that day. My family and spent the whole day outside. We were hot, but wading through the water was incredibly refreshing. But those boys.... there was such glee in them. Such JOY. I was so envious. I loved the obvious thrill they got from the jump into the icy water.

Here's the view from the stump. Those fish are in there.... I know they are. But guess what? Those boys were absolutely justified in their glee. I shrieked like a bleach blond in a horror film when I surfaced. Damn that water is COLD! Man that felt great!

But I still can't carry a bag of fillets from the sink to the freezer.

a simple summer lunch

2007-07-19T14:28:00.000-07:00

Here's my answer to an outstanding summer lunch. It has everything I enjoy in a meal: it's quick, it's easy, it involves my two favorite tastes -tangy and sweet. This is so good it makes my eyes roll back in my head and leaves me licking my fingers when I'm done.

Fresh whole wheat or seven grains bread

One fresh tomato

Mayo

Large crystal Celtic Sea Salt

Lemon pepper

*Slice the tomato up into 4 thick slices. Eat one of the ones from an end. Cut the other end slice in half. Slather two slices of bread with mayo. Pile your two full tomato slices on one slice of wheatey goodness. They'll only go on if you put one in the top right corner and the other in the lower left corner. Use the last two bits of tomato to fill in the exposed corners of bread. Sprinkle with salt and lemon pepper to taste. Smash the 2nd slice of bread on top.*

* * repeat until sated.

Feel free to add cucumber slices or bacon for some curl your toes summer goodness. This, dear reader, is the epitome of good summer cooking. Oh the rapture! My dad taught me to make these and as a child, we only used Grandpa and Grandma Wood's 'maters. There have never been any better. There's something about a ripe summer tomato, so fresh from the garden it's still warm from the sunshine....

Oh, and FYI all you readers from my hometown- Gages on Evan's has picked their second day of fresh sweet corn! PAR-TAY!

Bad worker = Good mother OR Good worker = Bad mother

2007-07-18T14:07:00.000-07:00

Well, it is my third day on the job, and guess where I am?!?

Not at work.

About 10 minutes after I settled into my desk, daycare called to tell me that "Goober" had just emptied the contents of her stomach all over her shoes. So, with much embarassment and much apologizing, I picked up my stuff and exited the building. There was no warning-she hadn't been sick at all that morning-which is just as well, because I would have felt even worse calling in to say I wouldn't be there. Still, nice impression, eh?

But what's a mother to do?!? My husband is fabulous-and more than pulls his weight in the sick duty department. But over the Fourth-as I was putting in my last two days at at the old job after quitting, Goober was sick sick sick-and he elected to stay home. Between nursing her, getting sick himself and a wedding we had to attend, he ended up missing 5 freaking days of work! I couldn't very well ask that of him again.

I wish with all my heart that life was more simple and DH made more money at his job. I could really deal with being a stay-at-home mother. I hate being so conflicted between my responsibilities as a mother and my responsibilities to my employer. I'm sure we'd frequently want to murder each other by the end of the day, but I could make sure we were doing things like story time and parks and play dates to break things up. My god, I'd even cook dinner each day! The DH wouldn't know what hit him! Let's not talk about the control I would have over who my child interacted with and what she was/was NOT exposed to.

Beware having children. These are the things I never anticipated worrying about. The desire to stay home with my child was like a gigantic slap in the face. I always styled myself as a working woman.

Until those baby blues first gazed up at me.

All Work and No Play

2007-07-16T19:34:00.001-07:00

I have officially transitioned BACK to the working world. Sigh. Its a good job-for the area. You make certain sacrifices to live in the region I do. I should be quite pleased. I could be at Wal-Mart. After my first day on the job, I find that I am not particularly pleased, however. I am working within the local university as a secretary.

But I have had a taste of the good life. I have had a taste of teaching and research. I have been ruined for secretarial work, apparently. I have plenty of good skills in this particular career path. But I find that I have no interest in processing other people's projects. I take much more satisfaction in my OWN.

I have nothing to complain about. Most people around here will kill for a state job. The benefits are killer. I am going to have to do my best to just take satisfaction in a job well done until something better comes along.

I'm just an ungrateful, spoiled bitch who thinks she can do better!

I just need to keep thinking... at least I won't have things hurled at my feet by this boss... 8o)

Rayelle! You're a married woman!

2007-07-10T20:32:00.001-07:00

Actually, this picture was taken the night of her Bachelorette Party. She wasn't married yet, so technically, she could hug any "Dick" or "Peter" she wanted to.

I also have a few photos of flaccid Jello Jiggler penis eaters, but they're horribly out of focus and you can hardly tell what you're looking at. Alas, I was already pretty drunk by the time those photos were snapped.

No Work and All Play

2007-07-10T19:45:00.000-07:00

I've been busy! More stylin' sock yarn for pampered toes!

Meet (L to R): Cloud Peak, Glacier Bay, Alabaugh Canyon, Neapolitan, and Mixed Berries

I have no idea why I must name them for you-I'm not sure what that little conceit is all about. All my names are dippy, fru-fru things that anyone would come up with, but what can I say, I am driven to do it. I spend the whole time I am skeining them up into the final product brainstorming and testing out proper little titles for them. I should go with obnoxious ones like Rabbitch. I've seen things on her site called "Dead Rat." Aw, what the hell, here are the alternative names: (L to R) Blue-balled Zombie, Witches Tittie, Manslaughter, Two-Ton Tessie, and Black Eye. Vote for which set you like better!

There's more to come, but "Ouidah" (a rusty red, brown, and orange) needs some touch ups, and this (whatever it gets named) is too weird looking, and must be overdyed to something more suitable:

I think I've finally gotten down a system for wrapping so that the final product isn't a tangled mess to skein up, and the wrapping itself now only takes about 20 minutes if I work hard. YEAH! I might someday be able to bust out more that five skeins in 8 hours!

Gainful Employment

2007-07-08T20:44:00.000-07:00

I recently quit my job, due to several inexplicable announcements my director made:

1. She doesn't "beleive in addressing problems as they start...[instead she'd] rather allow them to become large problems..." at which point she "will have one meeting to address them..." and then you are out on your arse if things don't shape up. To do otherwise is "micromanagement."

This was my first inkling that I should run like hell, as fast and as far as a I could. A few weeks later...

2. She stated that she "has a license to snap at and be mean to her employees [namely, ME] because [she] is the boss, and is under a great deal of stress."

I politely disagreed and asked if she would like my vest right then, or if she would prefer that I stay out the week. This is unfortunate, and I feel a bit disloyal to the organization and facility. This particular museum is quite a gem and has a number of important stories to tell the world, but is really hindered by it's current director and it's lack of administrative continuity. (I am told I was the 9th secretary in 3 years.-you can imagine the state of things, eh?)

Nonetheless, I was quite gratified when I came home that day to find a message on my machine inviting me to interview for a secretarial position at a local university where I moonlight as an adjunct professor. They snatched me right up, and I start on the 16th!

Here's the rub-an hour after I was offerred the job AND accepted, I ran across an opening for a museum director in the town 1/2 hour away where my husband works. It's a tiny county museum-probably not much more than a jumped up closet where people dispose of the old stuff they don't care to keep anymore. BUT, it would be much more the sort of thing I would enjoy, and because it's so small, my lack of management experience probably won't hurt me. It's a good stepping stone for other options in the future. I applied. The arrogant person inside says they'll snatch me right up as soon as they see my application. My pie in the sky dreams have me hired by Friday, and never working at the University. Am I a bad woman for applying for a job after I've already accepted another? ESPECIALLY since I can't afford to burn bridges with the University since I'd like to eventually be a full professor there?

summer evenings

2007-07-05T20:34:00.000-07:00

I lived in a trailer for the first 18 years of my life. Does this make me white trash? After a 10 year hiatus, I'm back in one again. I live in a trailer court. There are times I feel self conscious about this. After owning a nice home, it's disheartening to step back down into renting-especially renting a trailer.

But as far as trailer courts go, this one is decent. We aren't smashed on top of one another here, and my daughter has a fenced-in yard. The trailer isn't terribly old and it has a shaded deck. Tonight the rugrat played in the sandbox, and I rocked in the yard swing and knat. The breeze was nice, the bugs were non-existent, the neighborhood was quiet, and life... it ain't so bad.

Who needs more than this? really?

Hello!

2007-07-05T14:06:00.001-07:00

I broke down-couldn't handle it anymore. Started my own blog. Sigh. I'm such a sheep.