TMI- Especially for Men

So my Maternity Medicaid is only good through today. Then I revert back to one of America's hundreds of thousands of uninsured middle-class citizens... Luckily, today I also had my 6-week check where not only could I receive a free IUD, but I was encouraged to do so. Birth control I don't have to think about for the next 5 years? Sweet. Especially since I've gotten pregnant twice on birth control. Yikes.
Every doctor I've seen has commented on my unusually small cervix, which makes various procedures much more uncomfortable than they ordinarily need to be. Apparently it's so small it has a name for this condition. I don't know how pap smears feel for most people, but I venture a guess it's not my experience. They are not merely uncomfortable but very painful. Timm has held my hand through many, including a colposcopy. (yikes!) Of course, I had to have one today. I asked the doctor how comparable the IUD placement was to a pap smear.

Dr: It's slightly more uncomfortable. You may have more cramping.
Me: Oh crap.
Dr: You have a very small cervix, so you may feel this a little more than the average person.
Me: Oh crap.
Dr: We're just going to pull your cervix a little bit closer.
Me: What? But- how do you pull an organ? Is a cervix an organ? I don't think so- Regardless, it's internal! How do you redirect my cervix? This can't be good.
Dr: You may feel a little pinch.
Me: Oh crap.

"Holy Mother of What the Freakin' Crap in the Hell &@*!?!*" ( is the nonsensical string of allowed outbursts that I thought.)
At this point I yell out several times and continue to moan, the pain so that I cannot contain it. It feels as though- oh right, they are pulling my cervix! Now- I don't think I have a small pain tolerance. After all, I had endured 3 C-Sections, the last of which I actually felt during surgery. But this freaking hurt!! A lot!! I dug my fingernails into my palms the entire time while they repeatedly told me to relax my knees and butt. Right.
I ask about bleeding and she says I will have some spotting afterwards. After they mercifully leave me to recover my composure, I get off the table. As I stand, plink, plink, plinkplinkplink. Blood dripping on the linoleum.
Me: Oh, you meant right now. Well, in lieu of anything else, I'll just help myself to some kleenex.
Good Hell- A- Mighty!
It's a good thing that procedure will last me for another 5 years, cause it super sucked. I cannot count how many times I kept repeating to myself: That was horrible. That was horrible. That was horrible.
Glad it's over.
Incidentally, I'm really counting on some special place in heaven for women for all we endure to bring children into this world, and then to make sure we do not bring more children into it. Brutal.

Happy Halloween- Gross

Look closely. This is a mouse, inside a hot dog bun. The left hand side appears to be like a cross-section of the mouse, but if you study it you will see that it is in fact, part of the bun, thus the mouse is baked right in. This was on the news last night, and through the powers of DVR I saved this and took a picture. I didn't hear the actual story- the headline- and image- were enough.

Happy Halloween-Sweet

Note to Self:

No matter how much sense it makes at 3 am, it is never, under any circumstances, okay to tape a binkie to a baby's face. Ever.
Nor can you explain to said baby what '3 am' means.

Donut Night

Mom and Dad came to visit this weekend because we blessed Fiona on Sunday (details to come), and afterwards we had a Petersen-style homemade Donut Night! Until I get the blessing pictures from my dad, I will blog about donuts.
Bella enjoyed an array of treats, including eating straight from a quart of Rita's Water Ice, courtesy of Sophie who works there now. (Sweet!) That's quite indulgent of the Gilers to let Bella spoil the rest of the quart by eating directly from it.
Not a great picture, but I am always amazed at Linda's kid's interest in Fiona, and Bella for that matter. As a kid I was never interested in babies or kids. At all. Even now, I don't seek them out or coo over every baby I see. I need to have some kind of emotional attachment to them, usually through friends or relatives. So because of this I can't fathom that all of Linda's kids, Sophie, Hayden and Blake, clamor to hold Fiona and fight for their turn with her. It's works out well for me.
Here is Blake, Linda's youngest, showing off a plate of glazed donuts. Mmm...
Linda, glazing.
Mmm...
Donuts.
Tasty.
It was so fun- it felt like a holiday. The festivity of making homemade donuts, having my parents there, my family all together, good friends and company, the World Series playing and happy squeals from Bella...
Good Times.

Plenty

Nana and Papa came to visit and help out a couple of weeks ago,and I am just now blogging about it. I have a huge back log of things I want to write about, and it is a matter of finding time and hands free of baby to sit and do it. If that time does come up, I would usually rather sleep, or read if sleep is impossible. But chipping away before I forget, as my memory already fades and before long it would be lost to the oblivion and abyss of my nearly nonexistent memory.
Besides good company, support, and assistance, one of the benefits of their visit was the plenty that we received. Nana had the great idea of making a bunch of freezer meals so my family could actually eat real food while I adjust to this parenting of two. I am satisfied with cold cereal, and would be want to see my family on the same diet while I am still adverse to cooking...Luckily for them, Nana came and bought the ingredients and helped me cook it all. As you can see, we ended up with quite a lot. I love this pleasing sight!
Besides the meals that are prepared, frozen and ready to go, we also received quite a bit of food to stock us up after we've exhausted those meals! Cheese as far as the eye can see, chicken, salmon (a rare luxury-), roast, olive oil, canned chicken, canned tomatoes, pasta, rice...
I love seeing my freezer and pantry well-stocked with food. (Admittedly, it doesn't take a whole lot of food to fill my little pantry!) It makes me feel...safe. Taken care of. Prepared. I guess maybe that's what that whole food storage thing is all about. Unfortunately, other than this, we don't really have any food storage to speak of.
Is there anyone who makes you feel as safe and taken care of as your parents do? I purport there is not.
Thanks.

Joy School Halloween Program

As you can clearly see, Bella is the unequivocal star of the show. Hmm.
She's not shy- I don't even think she knows what shy is. I think she's just bored and distracted by that point. If you hear a snapping noise, that's me snapping at her and looking threatening to coerce her out from under the rug.
Her costume/outfit is lovely. It is supposed to be a butterfly, and is pretty cute, but she refused to wear the wings and the antennae. She also refused to take off her pants, which I think offset the look beautifully.
Kids are from left to right (in the first video): Bella, Cai, Sebastian, Ashley, and Naomi. Sebastian is Molly's little boy (the cowboy) and I just really like him in general. His performance only sustained that affection. It's a good thing he was involved or the performance could have been- dare I say-a little lackluster.
3-year olds. Hmph.

This one has a cliff-hanger ending...

(I ran out of disk space at this inopportune time!)


She says 'Barack Obama', but upon my inquiry I confirmed my hunch that he just had a cooler name.
Sorry dad.
At least she's not registered.

Dirty Begging little... Dirty Cats.

These cats. They're like squatters. Covered in their own filth, leaving evidence of it wherever they go and constantly begging off of me, be it food or attention. With every little meow or titter from their mouths I am instantly resentful. What do you want from me?!
What's a girl to do.
Back in the day, we jokingly used to say that those dirty spots had merely been 'Smegelized.'
It's not funny anymore.
Every time I walk by the bathroom and get a whiff of the litter box, even if it's clean, makes me alternately hang my head or throw it back in indignation.
Sigh...

Packed House

It was a popular Feature Presentation, Monster's Inc.

Fiona at One Month

Technically, Fiona was a month old last Sunday. She is 5 weeks old today, but it's close enough, right? It's such a cliche, but time really does go by so fast! Especially since I had children since it seems I'm always marking time by their ages and what we were doing when...
No one cares if you're 27 and a half, but 3 and a half makes a big difference, just as six months does opposed to one. So here we are, our first month gone already. I'll report later on how I specifically am doing, but this one is all about Fi.
She still sleeps most of the time but unfortunately her long stretches occur during the day, leaving the night to consist of 2-3 hour blocks in between feedings. Last night was 5 !? with hour and a half intervals because she is congested. She could roll to her side from 4 days old, and has been lifting her head a lot from the beginning as well, but she's getting slightly steadier, slightly less Bobble head-esque. I have no idea how much she weighs since her next appointment isn't until her 2 month check, but she seems to be filling out. Her chicken/old lady wrinkled legs have actually acquired a bit of fat, so she has small rolls finally. She's already grown out of the newborn diapers which I wasn't prepared for due to my experience with Bella's ultra- slow growth rate, clinging to the bottom of the growth charts and barely peaking at 2%.
She still has that beautiful hair and doesn't show any signs of losing it. She has this funny habit of arching her back and throwing her head back in an ultimate stretch that extends even to her lips as she thrusts them out in what appears to be some kind of satisfied grimace. She makes funny little grunting sounds which I have committed to video that sound akin to a lamb bleating. Maybe a lamb with a sore throat, though.
She's still a happy baby, or at least appears so during her brief intervals of consciousness. She does her lambie-grunts a lot, especially when she's thinking about waking up and eating, but her cries are still reserved for times of desperation. It's less raptor like now, and more like a real cry, but as I said she doesn't exercise it too often.
Timm continues to delight in testing just what she'll sleep through as he manipulates her body in various ways, and she continues to put up with it. She's still a fantastic nurser with quite the knack, and so far is proving most of my worries unfounded. Of course she proved my first and primary concern irrelevant in-utero when they told me she was a girl.
She's a wonderful and sweet addition to our family, and of course we fill more full because of it. Because I'm a spaz I still wonder if we're going to have another one, though now is not the time to be thinking of such things. But when that consideration arises I think both our girls will be good propaganda for another.

Unauthorized Fungi

I know this makes no sense. I cannot explain it, and even when I try to the best of my abilities, it still sounds ridiculous to my own ears. Still, it makes me do this:

{Unauthorized fungal growth in my backyard.}

So here it is, the best explanation I can muster. It is akin to a post I did years ago (that sounds so weird!) about vegetables sprouting. Both of these phenomenons just give me the willies. It kind of makes my skin crawl, and I cannot identify why except that it seems that life is teeming all around me in places or objects that I thought to be inanimate or... 'still.' Root vegetables- I expect them to stop growing once they have been ripped from the earth, shipped to the store where I purchase them and resign them to the bottom of my pantry until a recipe calls them hither. When they grow, unauthorized, it is like they're being raised from the dead. It's like- zombie vegetables. They're exerting a power that seems just short of paranormal, and it's going on right under my nose and I have no control over it. Mushrooms are a little less offensive, because at least they have not breached security by entering the boundaries of my home. They belong outside. But these literally seemed to have grown up overnight and their prolific nature freaks me out! Where did they come from? How did they grow so fast? What will stop them? What are they feasting on? I made Timm quickly dispose of them.

{Their corpses.}
{Incidentally, why do we have to have words like 'corpse'? It's so.. icky. So is 'crotch', 'panties' and numerous slang words I won't mention here.}

Alas, they are also beautiful. They were a bright pumpkin color. I was actually freaked out enough that I could only take pictures from the deck and instructed Timm to take these close-ups. My freak-out was not totally unfounded though, since they were steaming and had juices running off of them. Seriously.
Timm of course thought they were very cool and was very proud of this find.


In retrospect (of an hour) I wish that I had taken my own pictures. Timm did a great job, but after they had been properly disposed of in the garbage, I caught a vision of some macro shots I would have taken and framed for my kitchen, orange being a main color. Maybe I can photoshop and crop some. So I admit, they are beautiful, and it was probably a bit of an 'over-reaction'. But it still makes me wanna go a little like this:

Outline of my thoughts

I. I would be on Survivor.

a. Obviously I would have to be in much better shape to even make a go for myself, but I would do it if that were the case and my kids were older. What's 40 days?
b. It should be noted that the primary reason for being in shape would be the multiple appearances on national tv in unflattering conditions and little clothing. Performance is secondary.

II. "There is not another man on this planet who knows how to maim and hurt somebody with a ladder more than me."
a. My favorite quote I have heard in a long time.
b. The answer to the question, "What is a 'ladder match'?"
c. A wrestling event on USA.

III. Some favorite words that have been recently emailed to me via Dictionary.com:
a. slugabed \SLUHG-uh-bed\, noun:
One who stays in bed until a late hour; a sluggard.
b. circumlocution \sir-kuhm-loh-KYOO-shuhn\, noun:
The use of many words to express an idea that might be expressed by few
c. tintinnabulation \tin-tih-nab-yuh-LAY-shuhn\, noun:
A tinkling sound, as of a bell or bells.
d. spoony \SPOO-nee\, adjective:
1. Foolish; silly; excessively sentimental.
2. Foolishly or sentimentally in love.
e. sesquipedalian \ses-kwuh-puh-DAYL-yuhn\, adjective:
1. Given to or characterized by the use of long words.
2. Long and ponderous; having many syllables.
3. A long word.
f. tatterdemalion \tat-uhr-dih-MAYL-yuhn; -MAY-lee-uhn\, noun:
1. A person dressed in tattered or ragged clothing; a ragamuffin.
2. Tattered; ragged.

IV. Books Waiting for me
a. On the side of my bed
1. The Known World
2. Empress Orchid
b. On hold at the library
1. The Monster of Florence
2. The Host
3. The Secret History

V. Nearly any ice cream is improved with crumbled pretzels in it
a. Based on a Ben & Jerry's flavor, Chubby Hubby.
b. best results are achieved with non-fruit flavors, in my experience.

End of the Line

I have had pets for as long as I can remember. As a parent myself, now I can't imagine why my own parents were so indulgent with me in this arena. The first pet I remember is Maggie, a parti-colored Cocker Spaniel that I'm pretty sure my mom fell in love with from a shop window. We kept her for a little while until my mom said that we were allergic to her, although I suspect she just realized it was a bad decision and the excuse of allergies was the easiest way to break it to the kids. I'm not sure if Simon came before of after Maggie, but he was an all- white medium- hair cat that we got from some kids giving away kittens on Halloween. We had him for about 7 years until he got Leukemia and we had to put him to sleep, much to the trauma of my brother and I. Besides these pets I had many others, a total of: 4 lizards, a mouse named Spencer, countless 'feeder' goldfish, 3 rabbits, several kittens, my calico cat named Molly, a Lab named Maddie, my Weimeraner named Sadie, a horse I leased named Astro, and an almost-sheep named Lambie. After I moved out the pet-collection got even worse. Since then I have also owned many rats, a freshwater aquarium, 2 snakes, a pink-toe tarantula, and several more cats including the 2 hairless ones we have now.
I worked as a vet tech for 5 years, starting at the age of 16. I loved this job, but it required very many tasks that were at times revolting, and I never minded any of it. It was fascinating and fulfilling. Later I was a manager at Petco which also had it's fair share of less-than glamorous aspects, but I still loved it.
I have always been an animal-lover. As an intense teenager I was a vegetarian and animal-rights activist, and even a vegan for a short time. I always marveled at how this trait was settled upon me since no one in my family shared my affinity for all living things. I have always unflinchingly accepted this as a basic part of my makeup and personality.
Until now.
Things are changing.
Before I had Lola I remember actually being afraid that having a child would make me love my pets less. Ha.
Well it did.
Ever since having children, there has been a slow decline in my devotion and dedication to animals- my pets more specifically. As time goes by I have less and less tolerance for the additional workload my pets place on me. Now that we have Fiona, it is almost intolerable. They are just 2 more creatures that I have to care for- cleaning up their bodily fluids, feeding, watering, bathing... without the same incentives or rewards you sometimes get for caring for your children.
For example- since the cats are hairless, they are actually quite high-maintenance. They still excrete the oils a normal cat would, but lack the hair to absorb it, thus attracting all dirt and grime to it like a filthy, greasy magnet. This requires once-a-week bathing at which I am negligent at best, as well as regular ear, eye, and nose cleaning. Also nail trimming. This oily dirt-attraction leaves brown spots wherever they congregate. Since they are hairless, they also seek cozy warm places. Hence, the places they congregate are many and leave the aforementioned brown patches on our sheets, covers, furniture, walls that they lean against, windowsills, blankets, pillows, clothes...
I know, disgusting.
Up until now it has been a mere nuisance that I was willing to overlook for the affection and pleasure of my kitties.
I still love these cats, but it is not really worth it to me anymore. The more complicated my life becomes as my family grows, the less I am willing to expend my limited energy cleaning up after these guys. It seems lately they are so much work!
For instance, a few days ago I came out into the living room to find 2 piles of cat vomit. Lovely.
Yesterday I discovered that one of them crapped in our bathtub, the very same bathroom that houses their currently immaculately clean litter box, leaving them no excuse for such behavior. Before I could clean that up, they did it again. What the?! I am washing my bedding constantly, trying to remove stains that are hopeless. I walk around the house with a bottle of Lysol and try to remove the stains I see from room to room. I clean the litter box frequently to avoid having a characteristically cat-smelly house. Bathing them is always at the top of my to-do list, and seems to resurface as soon as I get around to doing it.
They are also incredibly needy, a trait I found endearing until recently. Hence, the picture of Smegel laying on top of Timm's arm as he feeds Fiona a bottle. He frequently lays flush against her while I nurse her. They sleep under our covers every night, nestled as close to us as possible. When I spend my whole day in close physical contact with a preschooler, an infant, and at time a husband, 2 sweaty cats are the last things I want to share my affection with, especially if they are vying for it while I am presently sharing it with other members of my actual family.
I never thought this would happen. I can't believe that I am saying it, but I don't know how much of an animal-lover I am anymore. Or- I still love them and are fascinated by them, but I don't know how well they fit into my life anymore. I am as shocked as anyone and now find myself in a predicament since my cat's predicted lifespan gives us another 10 years together. Unless that long-term cough of Smegel's develops into something more...
Forgive me Erin!

Up the Street

Picturesque.

(That's pronounced 'picture-squee'.)

My thanks to Jon Seckel, 9th grade gifted english class with Mr. Urglavich, circa 1995.

Quotable

Timm frequently begs kisses off of Bella, forcing her to give him as many as he requires. She obligingly indulges him, usually not giving any protest for as long as he demands them of her, often into the dozens. A couple of days ago however, after about 15 kisses Bella informed him, "I need my mouth back, Dad!"
Indeed.

Caught

I included the pictures because I forgot about the damn orientation of the camera when I took the video! When will I learn?!

Hormonal Imbalance

What's with hormones, anyway? Why do they have to- Okay, I have to stop myself already.
First I must explain that my hormones seem to have afflicted me with a post-partum onset of something akin to Turret's syndrome. Seriously. When I am frustrated I find myself searching for something to call out, and it's usually something obscene. Luckily I quell this inclination. It is especially difficult when I am nursing. I am still at that stage of nursing that hurts like the fiery pits of hell when Fiona first latches on. (Boy, she can latch. I tell her she's a natural. There's been no learning curve there.) For the first couple/few minutes I throw my head back as the f-word shouts loudly in my mind. To keep from yelling out I usually have to clench my teeth and emit something of a moan until the sting abates. This is accompanied with a thrashing of my feet as I try to distract myself from the pain. So you can see, from the inappropriate sporadic obscenities that I suppress under guttural moans, to the trashing and seizing of my feet and legs, I suffer from some sort of post-partum Turret's syndrome. It should be noted that under normal circumstances I am not inclined to obscenities, other than 'hell' and 'damn', which I have never considered to be obscene.
As is the case in many other circumstances, I feel the Lord has blessed me to spare me more than I can bear during this time. Since I struggle with depression under the best of circumstances, post-partum depression added on top of that seems like it would be the tipping point for me. Thus, I have never suffered with an excess of depression following the births of my children. I do however, feel the typical surge of hormones that comes with it. So far I have felt it bubbling up around me, softly and slowly. I don't know whether or not this is wise, but I have continually been suppressing that bubbling up to avoid giving it licence or control. Since I know it is fueled by hormones, and the influence of those hormones is finite, I am merely trying to wait it out. I figure if I ignore the nagging feelings long enough, the post- partum period will end and I can resume life as usual, trying to manage my usual feelings of depression and inadequacy.
Another thing that I hate about these hormonal disturbances is that I cannot describe the feelings they cause. Being accustomed to feelings of depression, I can usually articulate those feelings pretty well. These hormonal imbalances however, only leave me ill at ease and sensitive but unable to tell you why. The best way I can describe it is this: it is as though the plates of my life all shift a few degrees to the left so that they lay unsettled and out of place. Nothing fits where it used to, nothing is in the right place, everything is unsettled. I just don't feel like I fit anywhere. It's all wrong.That does not adequately describe the unease or sensitivity or inadequacy of these feelings, but it touches on it better than any other way I have found.
But like I said, I know that this part of my emotions is finite and not to be trusted so I have not yet allowed myself to give it heed. I am hoping it starts to pass soon so I don't have to expend so much energy pushing it under the surface. Likewise I hope that those around me and all I encounter continue to be kind and understanding towards me so as not to upset that delicate facade of peace until it restored in actuality, whenever that may be.

Malpractice?

I told Timm that I think they left some gauze in me when they did the surgery. I don't want to be dramatic, or I would have said they left an instrument in there, so I think it's just gauze.
There's this one place along my incision that hurts even when nothing else does. 3 weeks from the surgery and I am managing the lingering pain with 4 Advil every few hours, but this spot still hurts. Sometimes it's a dull reminder and sometimes a sharp stabbing pain. Underneath the incision it feels thick and ropey, different than it's ever felt from the other 2. It seems strange to me that the same spot always hurts when nothing else does and that it is so sensitive to the touch.
I got the idea from an Oprah I saw once with several people who had experienced major medical mistakes at the hands of their doctors. There was a man who was erroneously castrated because they thought there was cancer but didn't consult him and then it turned out there was no cancer. He was very elderly and married, but he was absolutely crushed because even though he was old he said he and his wife still enjoyed a very active sex life. He could barely speak without silently weeping. Another woman had surgery on the wrong limb, one woman had defective breast implants that were riddled with mold. ew. And then one woman had a wad of gauze left in her abdomen from surgery. She had pain for months and complained until they took x-rays and saw that there was foreign matter in her abdominal cavity.
Timm doesn't think I have foreign matter in my abdominal cavity.
I'm not so sure.

Study of Fiona

I love the myriad of expressions that newborns make in rapid succession. A week or so ago I snapped these one after another just to see what I would get. The whole thing took maybe 30 seconds. Love the results.

at ease.

challenging?

hey! that's bella's face!

disgusted.

rooting.

serious.

shifty-eyed.

precious smile, even if it is gas-induced.

just cute.

Note to Self:

Never underestimate the restorative properties of a hot shower and clean clothes- even if they are jammies.