Ethan likes beads. Even when it's not Mardi Gras. He is truly his Gramma Nana's grandchild.
Monday, March 22, 2010
He loves to accessorize
Ethan likes beads. Even when it's not Mardi Gras. He is truly his Gramma Nana's grandchild.
Spin, 2, 3, 4, Spin, 2, 3, 4
Ethan has been talking about exercising at preschool lately. We really need Spring to come, so we can get outside. A few weeks ago, Ethan put his head down on this chair, started spinning around and declared that he was exercising. We need to get outside!!
Sunday, March 21, 2010
The new girls
Just when I thought he hadn't noticed, Ethan said to me at dinner tonight..."Mommy, you know those clothes you are wearing? You are kinda too big for them"
So, I have a confession to make. Most of my readers already know, because most of my family and friends already know...but I recently bought myself a new pair.
My girlfriends said it best with this wonderful cake...
Yes...I have new boobs.
It's been a long road getting here. I mean, I've only talked about this for like 10 years. But I knew that I didn't want to do anything until after I was done having kids. And now I am...so, now I did.
I took the first step last Summer by doing some research and getting a couple consultations. I found a place that I liked and was ready to schedule my surgery for around Christmastime. I knew I'd need some extra help with the kids (and with myself), and my parents usually make an extended visit around this time, so I thought it'd be perfect. As I sat in the office after my consultation, we talked details, money, timing, etc...and then the kicker...can't lift anything heavier than 5 lbs for 3 weeks. Seriously. I still had two non-walkers. I left without an appointment.
A month or two later, I confided in my Mom and told her about my plans and the roadblocks I was running into. She wisely suggested that I wait until Spring...by that time all the kids would be a little bit more mobile and she could come up and help us out. Genius.
I put it out of my mind until February, when I scheduled a second consultation with a list of possible surgery dates, and dragged my husband along. You see, I have one of these amazing husbands who loves me just the way I am. Like I said above, I've been talking about this enhancement for 10 years...for as long as I've known him...so, it didn't come as a surprise when I actually decided to do it. But he's not one to push in either direction...he just wants me to be happy. So, he was hesitant coming along and voicing any sort of opinion on size...I'm actually still not really sure what he thinks! There's one thing I'm sure of though...I'm sure he's glad that I won't be talking about it for the next ten years!
After meeting with the Doctor, we scheduled my surgery for March 10th, which worked with the timing of my Mom's Triple Crown racing schedule. She would come up from the 9th through the 15th. Tick tock tick tock....I followed all the pre-surgery guidelines, nothing over the counter for 2 weeks, no drinking for 1 week...I was ready to go!
Except...then came the pie-eating contest.
Tuesday the 9th, pre-surgery day, Dylan greeted us in the morning with a crib full of puke. Everyone else seemed fine, even D at that point, so I thought it a fluke...the babies had their bottles, Ethan had breakfast, Andy got ready and headed out for work. Tuesday is one of my work-at-home days so I made my coffee and waited for Gramma. When Gramma called and asked if everyone was okay there because a couple other people in the family, including herself, were sick, I had a moment of internal panic. I immediately called Andy and he turned around and came home. For the rest of the day, we tag-teamed with work and childcare. I monitored my water-intake...I was supposed to drink at least a gallon to be hydrated for surgery the next day.
When Owen vomited on Andy's head after lunch, I still refused to admit "stomach flu"...we were still thinking some sort of food poisoning had been contracted at the birthday party a few days earlier. Ethan and I went to pick up Gramma Nana from the airport...he was cheery and excited to see Gramma. All the boys went down for naps when we got home. Owen screamed the scream when you know that something is just not quite right...so I went upstairs and was greeted by another crib full of puke...and a still-puking child. When Ethan woke up and was no longer smiling, even when he saw Gramma Nana, I knew we were in trouble.
As Andy said in his last post, we were each granted with strengths and weaknesses in our parenting. He has the "hold the puking child" strength, while I am much more comfortable with the "clean the puke-filled sheets" role. I'll clean the clothes/towels/etc, fill the pedialyte bottles, wash out the bucket...but dealing with the actual puking...um, not my forte. Granted, with 3 kids I still did my fair share of dealing with the puking, but if I can hand it off, I will. Love ya, babe!
Tuesday came and went..by midnight, we had 3 sleeping, non-puking children. I had called the Dr's office late in the day to tell them what was going on...they said to just see how I felt in the morning...if I wasn't sick I should still come in and they'd evaluate me there. So, I went to bed that night nervous...but not as much about the surgery than that I would get sick.
I woke up feeling okay...surgery was a go! But, at 9:15, about 15 minutes before we were planning on leaving, the office called me and said that they needed to cancel...the Dr had a family emergency...first time in 18 years that he would need to cancel surgery.
I didn't ask for details, it wasn't my business...I had a hard time not feeling bad for myself...but tried to keep myself in the right mindset...this man had had a family emergency...he could have lost a loved one...my surgery will wait for another day! I had some tears, and a cup of coffee, then went out to breakfast with my Mom. I felt instantly better, and got some perspective.
Long story, trying to get shorter...turns out I have a guardian angel of sorts. That night, after dinner, I ended up getting sick too...and I was up all night. Just imagine how dangerous that could have been for me had I had surgery that morning. I was able to reschedule for Tuesday morning, the Dr's office offered to pay for my Mom's rebooking fee, she was able to accommodate staying until the Friday after my rescheduled surgery, I was able to shift around my PTO....and I was healthy. It truly did work out for the best! (And, I'm still not sure what the family emergency was, but when I said I hoped everything was okay when, on my actual surgery day, he apologized for the cancellation...he said that everything was fine...so now I feel like I can actually be happy for everything that happened).
I have an incredible support system...friends and family have been supportive physically and emotionally, which I know is not always the case when elective & cosmetic surgery is chosen. I couldn't be more thankful for the people in my life!
And I'm thankful for my new girls, (and Vicodin) as well.
So, I have a confession to make. Most of my readers already know, because most of my family and friends already know...but I recently bought myself a new pair.
My girlfriends said it best with this wonderful cake...
Yes...I have new boobs.It's been a long road getting here. I mean, I've only talked about this for like 10 years. But I knew that I didn't want to do anything until after I was done having kids. And now I am...so, now I did.
I took the first step last Summer by doing some research and getting a couple consultations. I found a place that I liked and was ready to schedule my surgery for around Christmastime. I knew I'd need some extra help with the kids (and with myself), and my parents usually make an extended visit around this time, so I thought it'd be perfect. As I sat in the office after my consultation, we talked details, money, timing, etc...and then the kicker...can't lift anything heavier than 5 lbs for 3 weeks. Seriously. I still had two non-walkers. I left without an appointment.
A month or two later, I confided in my Mom and told her about my plans and the roadblocks I was running into. She wisely suggested that I wait until Spring...by that time all the kids would be a little bit more mobile and she could come up and help us out. Genius.
I put it out of my mind until February, when I scheduled a second consultation with a list of possible surgery dates, and dragged my husband along. You see, I have one of these amazing husbands who loves me just the way I am. Like I said above, I've been talking about this enhancement for 10 years...for as long as I've known him...so, it didn't come as a surprise when I actually decided to do it. But he's not one to push in either direction...he just wants me to be happy. So, he was hesitant coming along and voicing any sort of opinion on size...I'm actually still not really sure what he thinks! There's one thing I'm sure of though...I'm sure he's glad that I won't be talking about it for the next ten years!
After meeting with the Doctor, we scheduled my surgery for March 10th, which worked with the timing of my Mom's Triple Crown racing schedule. She would come up from the 9th through the 15th. Tick tock tick tock....I followed all the pre-surgery guidelines, nothing over the counter for 2 weeks, no drinking for 1 week...I was ready to go!
Except...then came the pie-eating contest.
Tuesday the 9th, pre-surgery day, Dylan greeted us in the morning with a crib full of puke. Everyone else seemed fine, even D at that point, so I thought it a fluke...the babies had their bottles, Ethan had breakfast, Andy got ready and headed out for work. Tuesday is one of my work-at-home days so I made my coffee and waited for Gramma. When Gramma called and asked if everyone was okay there because a couple other people in the family, including herself, were sick, I had a moment of internal panic. I immediately called Andy and he turned around and came home. For the rest of the day, we tag-teamed with work and childcare. I monitored my water-intake...I was supposed to drink at least a gallon to be hydrated for surgery the next day.
When Owen vomited on Andy's head after lunch, I still refused to admit "stomach flu"...we were still thinking some sort of food poisoning had been contracted at the birthday party a few days earlier. Ethan and I went to pick up Gramma Nana from the airport...he was cheery and excited to see Gramma. All the boys went down for naps when we got home. Owen screamed the scream when you know that something is just not quite right...so I went upstairs and was greeted by another crib full of puke...and a still-puking child. When Ethan woke up and was no longer smiling, even when he saw Gramma Nana, I knew we were in trouble.
As Andy said in his last post, we were each granted with strengths and weaknesses in our parenting. He has the "hold the puking child" strength, while I am much more comfortable with the "clean the puke-filled sheets" role. I'll clean the clothes/towels/etc, fill the pedialyte bottles, wash out the bucket...but dealing with the actual puking...um, not my forte. Granted, with 3 kids I still did my fair share of dealing with the puking, but if I can hand it off, I will. Love ya, babe!
Tuesday came and went..by midnight, we had 3 sleeping, non-puking children. I had called the Dr's office late in the day to tell them what was going on...they said to just see how I felt in the morning...if I wasn't sick I should still come in and they'd evaluate me there. So, I went to bed that night nervous...but not as much about the surgery than that I would get sick.
I woke up feeling okay...surgery was a go! But, at 9:15, about 15 minutes before we were planning on leaving, the office called me and said that they needed to cancel...the Dr had a family emergency...first time in 18 years that he would need to cancel surgery.
I didn't ask for details, it wasn't my business...I had a hard time not feeling bad for myself...but tried to keep myself in the right mindset...this man had had a family emergency...he could have lost a loved one...my surgery will wait for another day! I had some tears, and a cup of coffee, then went out to breakfast with my Mom. I felt instantly better, and got some perspective.
Long story, trying to get shorter...turns out I have a guardian angel of sorts. That night, after dinner, I ended up getting sick too...and I was up all night. Just imagine how dangerous that could have been for me had I had surgery that morning. I was able to reschedule for Tuesday morning, the Dr's office offered to pay for my Mom's rebooking fee, she was able to accommodate staying until the Friday after my rescheduled surgery, I was able to shift around my PTO....and I was healthy. It truly did work out for the best! (And, I'm still not sure what the family emergency was, but when I said I hoped everything was okay when, on my actual surgery day, he apologized for the cancellation...he said that everything was fine...so now I feel like I can actually be happy for everything that happened).
I have an incredible support system...friends and family have been supportive physically and emotionally, which I know is not always the case when elective & cosmetic surgery is chosen. I couldn't be more thankful for the people in my life!
And I'm thankful for my new girls, (and Vicodin) as well.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Boombabba boombabba boombabba
A here, trying to fill in for my highly talented wife.
Of the movies of my youth, certain ones and particularly specific scenes stick with me. Stand By Me was an instant classic as far as I am concerned. Within the great film, we are introduced to young Davie Hogan. For most of us, he is best remembered as "Lardass". I will not go through the whole story, because if you don't already know it you are a lost cause, completely beyond any help I can offer. Why am I talking about this you may be asking? Well, my wolf-pack made me feel like I was at the pie-eating contest recently.
Let's start from the beginning. We had a lil' get together recently to celebrate a birthday in the fam (happy big 1 Linnie-lou). It was a crazy and fun event, and we all went on our merry ways. In a day or two, it all went down the drain, literally. Word quickly spread that people were getting sick in several of the households of the families involved. We speculated that it could have been food poisoning, and the hostess with the mostest went on a quest to document what each person did or did not eat in order to triangulate the culprit. There was even a call to a government agency to report the impending pandemic that would surely ensue.
This is the point where we talk about the little Lardass wannabees. As our trio fell victim one by one like dominoes, we had to comfort them and clean them constantly. As a couple we complement each other well, each possessing separate strengths and weaknesses. Damned if I wasn't the one stuck with the "hold the violently ill child" strength. It became comical at times. I was changing my clothes and showering whenever I wasn't bathing or changing the clothing of a child. The highlight was a maneuver where I was lifting O over something, at which time he proceeded to projectile vomit on top of my head. No free hands to cover up, nor any ability to wipe the remnants of lunch off to prevent the flow down my face. Is this the joy of parenting thing I've heard so much about?
We will spare any actual vomit pics, but this was the general scene. Gramma Nana picked a great day to start her visit!
I actually think I got the better end of this thing somehow. My darling bride was one of the many who were stricken by this thing. She got to spend a full night curled up on the tile floor in one of our bathrooms. I'll take the Lardass treatment, which at least I could cure with a shower and spend my night in a bed.
In the end, we learned that it must have been a contagious bug rather than the suspected food poisoning. Unfortunately it took someone who was not at the event getting the illness to confirm this. Way to take one for the team Liz. I'm sure the vacation was just as much fun with the whole projectile vomit thing added in to all the other sights and sounds of Sin City.
One more Stand by Me quote, just because: "Chopper, sick balls".
Of the movies of my youth, certain ones and particularly specific scenes stick with me. Stand By Me was an instant classic as far as I am concerned. Within the great film, we are introduced to young Davie Hogan. For most of us, he is best remembered as "Lardass". I will not go through the whole story, because if you don't already know it you are a lost cause, completely beyond any help I can offer. Why am I talking about this you may be asking? Well, my wolf-pack made me feel like I was at the pie-eating contest recently.
Let's start from the beginning. We had a lil' get together recently to celebrate a birthday in the fam (happy big 1 Linnie-lou). It was a crazy and fun event, and we all went on our merry ways. In a day or two, it all went down the drain, literally. Word quickly spread that people were getting sick in several of the households of the families involved. We speculated that it could have been food poisoning, and the hostess with the mostest went on a quest to document what each person did or did not eat in order to triangulate the culprit. There was even a call to a government agency to report the impending pandemic that would surely ensue.
This is the point where we talk about the little Lardass wannabees. As our trio fell victim one by one like dominoes, we had to comfort them and clean them constantly. As a couple we complement each other well, each possessing separate strengths and weaknesses. Damned if I wasn't the one stuck with the "hold the violently ill child" strength. It became comical at times. I was changing my clothes and showering whenever I wasn't bathing or changing the clothing of a child. The highlight was a maneuver where I was lifting O over something, at which time he proceeded to projectile vomit on top of my head. No free hands to cover up, nor any ability to wipe the remnants of lunch off to prevent the flow down my face. Is this the joy of parenting thing I've heard so much about?
We will spare any actual vomit pics, but this was the general scene. Gramma Nana picked a great day to start her visit!
I actually think I got the better end of this thing somehow. My darling bride was one of the many who were stricken by this thing. She got to spend a full night curled up on the tile floor in one of our bathrooms. I'll take the Lardass treatment, which at least I could cure with a shower and spend my night in a bed.
In the end, we learned that it must have been a contagious bug rather than the suspected food poisoning. Unfortunately it took someone who was not at the event getting the illness to confirm this. Way to take one for the team Liz. I'm sure the vacation was just as much fun with the whole projectile vomit thing added in to all the other sights and sounds of Sin City.
One more Stand by Me quote, just because: "Chopper, sick balls".
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