Suddenly, Sometimes...

A CALL TO ARMS

Last night I let the dogs out for one last chance to use the bathroom and run off some steam before locking up for the night. Ivy, in her infinite Labrador wisdom, decided to use this opportunity to find something dead in the woods next to the house and roll around in it. She then darted into the house before I had a chance to get a whiff of it, causing such a stench to permeate the house that Greg was moved to toss his cookies.

After banishing the offending animal to the basement for the evening, and liberally spraying the house with air freshener, we sat down on the sofa to try and watch a movie. Every now and then a lingering waft of death would work its way over to us, bringing with it a short stint of nose wrinkling and gagging.

“You know, you’re the dog lover in this house. That disgusting smell is all your fault,” I told Greg.

“No, those aren’t my kids. Those are your kids. My kids would never do anything that disgusting.”

“I see. Your “kids” would never do anything disgusting? So, exactly which kids in this house are yours?”

“Umm.”

“The only kid in this house that’s never done anything disgusting is the one I’m cooking. And the only reason it’s never done anything gross is because it doesn’t have arms yet.”

“Yeah. It’s all pretty much downhill once they get arms.”

ALL SYSTEMS BLUE

I got a call from my doctor’s office yesterday, and other than somewhat low progesterone levels (which I have been reassured are not low enough to raise any alarms, but they want me to take a supplement anyway), everything looks fantastic. They’ve scheduled an ultrasound for Monday, so we can see what my wee little lentil bean is up to, and make sure he or she is the right size, shape and consistency.

The supplements, though? Let me just say that they are not taken orally, and you can make of that what you will. Also that they are bright blue in color, which produces a whole array of interesting results. I think if Greg has to hear, “Do you have any idea the indignities I suffer to bear your children?” one more time, he may very well throttle me.

In other news, I am so tired I can’t see straight. Last night I got very little sleep, but even when I get a full 8 hours, I’m ready for a nap roughly five minutes after I wake up. I know I’ve gone through this twice before, but it’s amazing how easy it is to forget the discomfort of the first trimester, in favor of that of the third. Third trimester discomfort is easy to understand. You know why you’re miserable, why you can’t get a good nights sleep because you’re roughly the size of a whale and can’t find a comfortable position. You know you’re getting up to pee all the time because there’s a baby in your stomach using your bladder as a trampoline. You know you can’t breathe because all of your internal organs have been relocated to your throat, and is that spleen you're tasting?

My body is working hard right now, trying to make everything right so that my sesame seed can become the lentil bean we’ll see next week. It’s just hard to mentally wrap my head around the tiredness that causes when all I have to show for it is blue pee.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

To all you mothers out there, I hope you're having a good, relaxing day.  And don't worry, Dad, your day is coming soon.

ZOMG!

Because one of these...

And one of these...

Is just not enough.

I'm only about 4 weeks along, so it's very early days.  I just...felt pregnant.  And decided to check.

I was going to wait to say anything about it.  After what happened back in October, Greg and I are both a little gun-shy.  But, we found out on Wednesday, and I went to the doctor's office for tests yesterday.  So far everything is looking good.  I go back on Monday for a second round of blood work to make sure all my levels are good. 

It's hard to keep this kind of thing to myself, especially after we've been trying for a year and it's just been month after month of disappointment. We are so happy right now.  We're keeping our fingers crossed and thinking as positively as possible.

And every now and then I toss in a happy dance.  Just for good measure.

RANDOM SNAPSHOT TIME

Taken at the going-away barbecue last week, for a co-worker who has moved on to other pastures. Something tells me they won't be asking me to cut up tomatoes for the burgers again anytime soon.  Also?  I am desperately in need of sunlight.

OVARY INVASION

It's not enough that they want to take away our right to make medical decisions about our bodies after we are pregnant.  No, they also want to make sure we can't decide for ourselves whether or not we want to get pregnant in the first place.

I'm usually not very vocal on my blog about my various political stances, but when it comes to my reproductive rights, I'm more than happy to scream from the mountaintops:  "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY VAGINA, YOU SELF-RIGHTEOUS ASSHATS!"

For the record, I am pro-choice.  I am pro-choice, not because I have ever had, or think I ever could have, an abortion myself, but because I believe it is a personal and private decision between a woman, her partner (when there is one), and her doctor.  I am pro-choice because I believe a person has the right to decide on the best course of action for themselves.  I am pro-choice because there is no black and white when it comes to pregnancy and the care of a child, and there are many different circumstances facing the people having to make that decision.

I am completely unapologetic about this stance, and always will be.  I do not expect other people to agree with me.  I do not expect those who are against the idea of giving people options to respect my point of view.  Certainly, I do not respect theirs.  But, one thing you will never see me do is parade around trying to force people to conduct their own private lives according to what I believe.

Which is exactly what these people are trying to do.

Pro-choice does not mean Anti-Life.  Pro-choice means exactly what it says.  I am for having a choice.

IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT

Last night major storms ripped through the Kansas City area, causing the tornado sirens to sound off a couple of times, but not causing us any particular problems, other than to do the car shuffle and make sure our vehicles were safely tucked away to avoid hail damage.

The worst of it passed by around 9 p.m., and at 11:30 Greg and I went to bed, windows open, enjoying the cool air the storms had brought along with them.

At about 1:50 a.m., a tremendous gust of wind came slamming through the window above our heads, accompanied by the sound of a freight train barreling towards the house. Greg and I both bolted out of bed screaming, “What the fuck is that?” and immediately started scrambling to get the kids, and get downstairs to the basement. I could feel the house shaking violently around me, and the darkness was being lit up repeatedly with a bizarre deep bright blue glow. No sirens ever went off.

After about 20 minutes things settled down and we went upstairs to turn on the T.V. and figure out what the hell had just happened. Local news stations were reporting an echo bow, and straight-line winds getting up to 80 mph. I’ve never been near a tornado, but my husband has, and was skeptical that what we experienced was just that. We finally managed to get back to sleep, and after waking up this morning and discovering that Gladstone, a town which we sit on the border of, had been practically leveled in areas, we were even more skeptical.

About an hour ago, reports from the National Weather Service were released, and confirmed that tornados touched down in our area. I don’t think we were smack dab in the middle of one, but we were certainly close enough to feel its wrath.

Our damages are small compared to others, whose homes were completely flattened. We have roof damage, shingles blown away, and the gutters were ripped away from the house. A tree that sits in front of our living room lost the battle to keep several very large branches, one of which has come down on our phone lines, leaving us thankful for cell phones and cable internet. Other branches from it were found sitting on our deck, in the front yard, and one at the far end of our 1acre property, along with a few shingles from the roof and the lid to our barbeque pit. A heavy metal swinging bench that we have in front of the house was rolled several times, and was resting upside down at the time I left for work.

It also appears that our house is now pushed back about one-and-a-half to one inch off the foundation. Where the children’s rooms our. Directly above where we were huddled in the basement. The basement where my husband now informs me you can see a crack of daylight at the spot where the house was pushed back.

I was terrified when it was happening. I am terrified now thinking about what could have happened. I am thankful that we were as lucky as we were, when so many were not. We were not hurt. Our home, though battered, is still standing.

I just hope I never have to go through something like that again.

ME AND MY LAZY GENE, HIM AND HIS POTTY SEAT

Gabe has been expressing an interest in potty training for about six months now. My husband and I have both taken a pretty laid back approach to it, not pressuring him every twenty minutes by asking if he has to take a whiz or a dump. We figure, hey, he’s two, and sometimes changing a diaper really does take less effort.

If I wrote a book, it would likely end up being titled something like The Lazy Person’s Guide to Raising a Child: Now With Self-Turning Pages!

And I think I’d be okay with that. Because I have an ace in the hole. I have an Actively Involved Grandparent. And I’m okay with exploiting that, because I grew up listening to my great-grandmother tell stories about how she single handedly potty trained me, in the course of one day no less! Not to mention all the other things she claimed to be responsible for when it came to my upbringing, a list which probably only excluded actually giving birth to me, and that was most likely a very grudging exclusion.

My mother-in-law has been very interested in potty training Gabe, probably because she does mind diaper changing, and watches him at least once or twice a week for a few hours. During her time with him, she is on him like white on rice, constantly asking if he has to go to the bathroom. And, eventually, a bulb turned on in Gabe’s head, and he figured out how to tell her, and us, that he needed to go. Then another bulb came on, and he figured out he could go to the bathroom, put his Bob the Builder potty seat on the toilet, pull down his pants and pull-up, and have at it. All by himself.

He’s not quite three yet, and frankly, he’s a genius as far as I’m concerned. Also, he has definitely not inherited his mother’s lazy gene.

He doesn’t do it all the time. Sometimes, that bulb doesn’t turn on, and a bulb that says, “Listen, kid. You should take a big crap right now, and then fight like hell to keep this nasty, stinky, soiled diaper on,” lights up instead. And then he runs around the house screaming, trying to keep away from us as we grab at our noses and try to wrestle him down to the floor for a clean pull-up.

And sometimes the bulb only turns on halfway, and he messes himself, then sits on the seat. And those are the times my lazy gene turns around and bites me in the ass.

BITCHIN' IN THE KITCHEN*

I was wondering to myself if there was some sort of mental jump start I could undergo to get my brain stimulated again, instead of listening to it make the, “Buh, buh, buh,” sounds it’s so fond of these days. You know, something like jumper cables for the brain. And then I got to thinking that if I could come up with something like that, wouldn’t there be a big market for it? I could patent those suckers and make a ton of money on them!

Then it dawned on me that there’s already something like that out there. Something those zany professionals call Electroshock Therapy.

I think I’ll go ahead and stick with my buh-bling brain.

* Brownie points awarded if you can name that soundtrack.**

** Without cheating!

SLINKING OUT OF THE GEEK CLOSET

I remember once promising my friend Lestlie that I would never, ever post anything WoW related on my blog.

Well, I'm sorry Lestlie. I can't help it. But, I promise it won't happen again. Anytime soon, anyway.

Sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, ya know?