Went to the doctor's yesterday morning for this damn cold. Z-pak, mucinex, and steamy showers were the prescription.
Got a call yesterday afternoon from the doctor's office. The results of my MRI showed NO calcification (yay!) but, the nurse tells me ever-so-seriously, it did show bilateral sinusitis.
No shit. Ya think??
Pass the Kleenex, please!
Dec 19, 2009
Dec 17, 2009
Apparently...
I am not claustrophobic.
I am, however, fidgety.
Neither is a particular revelation to me. How very true each is, however, was brought home by today's MRI.
No results for a while but the procedure itself was uneventful. Many thanks to everyone for their positive thoughts. They are very much appreciated.
I am, however, fidgety.
Neither is a particular revelation to me. How very true each is, however, was brought home by today's MRI.
No results for a while but the procedure itself was uneventful. Many thanks to everyone for their positive thoughts. They are very much appreciated.
Dec 4, 2009
A Horse of a Different Color
A little backstory:
Saturday the 14th of November, I was singing in a cabaret fundraiser. One measure, I was perfectly fine, the next, my head exploded in pain. The worst freakin' headache I have ever had. I quite literally saw stars. It scared the shit out of me. I was honestly wondering whether I was dying but I scarfed down two Advil courteously provided by another vocalist and made it through my two pieces (Everything's Coming Up Roses and Music That Makes Me Dance, for anyone who's interested). The Advil didn't even touch the pain.
I woke up the next morning with a remnant of the headache, which flared again into brutal life when I was singing a solo at church that evening.
Monday, it happened again (I wasn't singing this time).
Tuesday, I called the doctor.
It took nearly a week to recover from that series of headaches - because once the actual headpain was gone, my neck was killing me from holding my head as still as possible.
About a week and a half ago, I had a CT scan.
Tuesday, the doctor called me to say that the scan was "normal" but that I have a 5mm calcification in the frontal area of my brain. (Ok, I know it's not a tumor (she was quite clear on that) but, honestly, there's something slightly larger than a BB in my brain; how can that possibly be normal??!)
She can't tell me anything more. Google, however, kindly tells me there are any number of causes of brain calcification... and any number of effects. Interestingly, one of the effects can be Parkinson's-like tremors. I wonder if that's why my hands shake? I also wonder how long this thing has been there and whether or not it's likely to grow.
At any rate, now I go for an MRI on the 15th.
Not sure how to do this but, darn it, when the results come back, I want to see the pictures, I want someone to explain to me exactly what this thing is, how it got into my brain, and what the f*ck it's likely to do to me in the future. And I don't want my primary care physician to be doing this. She's a nice enough person, I suppose, but she's good with the brush off. I want a neurologist. I need to figure out how to put that to her so that she doesn't get offended and so that she does what I want. I'm Gen-X - I need more than just a "trust me, it's fine".
Fortunately, the headache has not come back. Unfortunately, it seriously weirds me out that there is something non-brain in my brain. A headache of a different nature, I suppose.
Saturday the 14th of November, I was singing in a cabaret fundraiser. One measure, I was perfectly fine, the next, my head exploded in pain. The worst freakin' headache I have ever had. I quite literally saw stars. It scared the shit out of me. I was honestly wondering whether I was dying but I scarfed down two Advil courteously provided by another vocalist and made it through my two pieces (Everything's Coming Up Roses and Music That Makes Me Dance, for anyone who's interested). The Advil didn't even touch the pain.
I woke up the next morning with a remnant of the headache, which flared again into brutal life when I was singing a solo at church that evening.
Monday, it happened again (I wasn't singing this time).
Tuesday, I called the doctor.
It took nearly a week to recover from that series of headaches - because once the actual headpain was gone, my neck was killing me from holding my head as still as possible.
About a week and a half ago, I had a CT scan.
Tuesday, the doctor called me to say that the scan was "normal" but that I have a 5mm calcification in the frontal area of my brain. (Ok, I know it's not a tumor (she was quite clear on that) but, honestly, there's something slightly larger than a BB in my brain; how can that possibly be normal??!)
She can't tell me anything more. Google, however, kindly tells me there are any number of causes of brain calcification... and any number of effects. Interestingly, one of the effects can be Parkinson's-like tremors. I wonder if that's why my hands shake? I also wonder how long this thing has been there and whether or not it's likely to grow.
At any rate, now I go for an MRI on the 15th.
Not sure how to do this but, darn it, when the results come back, I want to see the pictures, I want someone to explain to me exactly what this thing is, how it got into my brain, and what the f*ck it's likely to do to me in the future. And I don't want my primary care physician to be doing this. She's a nice enough person, I suppose, but she's good with the brush off. I want a neurologist. I need to figure out how to put that to her so that she doesn't get offended and so that she does what I want. I'm Gen-X - I need more than just a "trust me, it's fine".
Fortunately, the headache has not come back. Unfortunately, it seriously weirds me out that there is something non-brain in my brain. A headache of a different nature, I suppose.
Nov 25, 2009
Trying to Count My Blessings
Work sucks. Grateful I have a job.
Kids' behavior sucks. Grateful I have them.
Can't do anything right at choir. Grateful they haven't kicked my goram ass out.
Doctor's office doesn't give a rat's ass. Grateful my haranguing, er, persistent follow up worked.
CAT scan on head tomorrow. Grateful John is willing to stay with the kids.
Totally overwhelmed with life. Grateful... well, grateful I'm alive, I guess.
Kids' behavior sucks. Grateful I have them.
Can't do anything right at choir. Grateful they haven't kicked my goram ass out.
Doctor's office doesn't give a rat's ass. Grateful my haranguing, er, persistent follow up worked.
CAT scan on head tomorrow. Grateful John is willing to stay with the kids.
Totally overwhelmed with life. Grateful... well, grateful I'm alive, I guess.
Nov 12, 2009
Nov 3, 2009
Laundry
Folding laundry
is
bemusing.
As I hold up
a
tiny onesie
or a toddler's
overalls,
It seems
impossible
that she was
ever
so small
or that he
should ever be so
big.
is
bemusing.
As I hold up
a
tiny onesie
or a toddler's
overalls,
It seems
impossible
that she was
ever
so small
or that he
should ever be so
big.
Oct 29, 2009
I'm Walking On Sunshine And It's Time to Feel Good
I don't feel particularly respected at work. Half the time you could just eliminate "particularly" from that last sentence and it would be accurate. Hell, at least a quarter of the time beyond that you could actually say I feel rather disrespected at work! What I do, because it doesn't actively bring money through the door, isn't valued by most at our company. I and the other admin folk have actually been termed "pie eaters" (as opposed to the professional staff who were called "pie makers").
I work for a planning and engineering consulting firm. I review contracts - which means I read them from a legal perspective, basically an inhouse paralegal kind of thing. (I was a legal assistant for over a decade.) I negotiate language with our clients to try to protect our interests.
We're a small firm and are usually subcontractors to larger firms that contract with state agencies, etc.. We bill our client, our client bills the state, the state pays our client, then our client pays us. Unfortunately, our clients sometimes sit on our bills rather than sending them upstream promptly; sometimes they don't even look at them for months. So, I crafted a bit of language that I try to negotiate into all our contracts that requires them to review our bills promptly and then submit them to the state promptly.
Most of our clients fight including the language. It can be an uphill battle for sure. But, tonight, I I was reviewing a contract between one of our clients and the state tonight. The client had negotiated my language into their contract with the state. You know you've written some good stuff when someone steals it for their own use.
A little respect is nice... even if it comes from a client and you wouldn't even know it unless you stumbled on it. I did stumble on it and - hey - I know it's a small thing but I'm flattered!
I work for a planning and engineering consulting firm. I review contracts - which means I read them from a legal perspective, basically an inhouse paralegal kind of thing. (I was a legal assistant for over a decade.) I negotiate language with our clients to try to protect our interests.
We're a small firm and are usually subcontractors to larger firms that contract with state agencies, etc.. We bill our client, our client bills the state, the state pays our client, then our client pays us. Unfortunately, our clients sometimes sit on our bills rather than sending them upstream promptly; sometimes they don't even look at them for months. So, I crafted a bit of language that I try to negotiate into all our contracts that requires them to review our bills promptly and then submit them to the state promptly.
Most of our clients fight including the language. It can be an uphill battle for sure. But, tonight, I I was reviewing a contract between one of our clients and the state tonight. The client had negotiated my language into their contract with the state. You know you've written some good stuff when someone steals it for their own use.
A little respect is nice... even if it comes from a client and you wouldn't even know it unless you stumbled on it. I did stumble on it and - hey - I know it's a small thing but I'm flattered!
Dog Poop
May I vent rather crudely? Um, yeah, it's my blog, I suppose I can, huh?
GDMF SOBs that don't clean up after their dogs in public!! May they be doomed to spending an hour each day cleaning that poop out of all the little crevices in toddler shoes and clothing as well as car seats both bench and child. And then may they slip and land face first in some other person's dog's leavings.
GDMF SOBs that don't clean up after their dogs in public!! May they be doomed to spending an hour each day cleaning that poop out of all the little crevices in toddler shoes and clothing as well as car seats both bench and child. And then may they slip and land face first in some other person's dog's leavings.
Oct 18, 2009
An Overheard Dinnertable Conversation
J: Were you good today?
Katie: I'll be good tomorrow.
J: But were you good today?
K (reluctantly): No.
J: Why weren't you good today?
K: Because I'm going to be good tomorrow.
J: Why weren't you good today?
K (firmly): I don't want to talk about that.
J: Why weren't you good today, Katie?
K: (silence)
Me (from the couch where I'm feeding the baby): Because she 'hates Mommy'.
J: Why do you hate Mommy?
K (cheerfully): Because I like you better!
J: Because you like me better?
K: Uh-huh.
J: Why do you like me better?
K: Because you're not mean to me.
J: What did Mommy do to make you mad?
K: (mumbles something unintelligible)
J: What did Mommy do to make you mad?
K (indignantly): She told me to go back upstairs!
J (ever so reasonably): But Katie, you were supposed to be upstairs.
K: Hmph!
Katie: I'll be good tomorrow.
J: But were you good today?
K (reluctantly): No.
J: Why weren't you good today?
K: Because I'm going to be good tomorrow.
J: Why weren't you good today?
K (firmly): I don't want to talk about that.
J: Why weren't you good today, Katie?
K: (silence)
Me (from the couch where I'm feeding the baby): Because she 'hates Mommy'.
J: Why do you hate Mommy?
K (cheerfully): Because I like you better!
J: Because you like me better?
K: Uh-huh.
J: Why do you like me better?
K: Because you're not mean to me.
J: What did Mommy do to make you mad?
K: (mumbles something unintelligible)
J: What did Mommy do to make you mad?
K (indignantly): She told me to go back upstairs!
J (ever so reasonably): But Katie, you were supposed to be upstairs.
K: Hmph!
Oct 5, 2009
My Name is Katie and I'm a 4 Year Old Insomniac
Ok, so she's not really an insomniac, per se, in that it's not that she can't sleep, it's that she won't sleep.
It's affecting her sister's ability to sleep (Katie plays and dances and so forth instead of sleeping), it's affecting her behavior (much poorer when she doesn't get enough sleep).
She has a CD player with a quiet lullaby CD. She has a water bottle next to her bed. We have a regular bedtime routine. We don't let her stay up; she gets scolded/yelled at/etc. if we catch her playing/dancing/etc. instead of lying quietly in bed.
Any ideas??
It's affecting her sister's ability to sleep (Katie plays and dances and so forth instead of sleeping), it's affecting her behavior (much poorer when she doesn't get enough sleep).
She has a CD player with a quiet lullaby CD. She has a water bottle next to her bed. We have a regular bedtime routine. We don't let her stay up; she gets scolded/yelled at/etc. if we catch her playing/dancing/etc. instead of lying quietly in bed.
Any ideas??
Sep 28, 2009
A Dash of This, A Pinch of That
- Why is my camera always on the other side of the room when I want it? I looked over while Evie was eating dinner tonight. She was skewering her hot dog slices on the pointed tip of a big fat crayon before using the crayon as a utensil. Note to self: be sure to provide a fork in the future!
- Matthew appears to be back on the weight gaining track. He'd lost, then gained in the hospital, then lost some more as of the end of last week. My thought is that second loss was due to me stopping the morphine (damn!) - either the increased pain level inhibited milk let-down or maybe he was missing the dope hitting his system through the milk. At any rate, hopefully we're back on the gain train for good now.
- The Syracuse Medical Cootie Problem continues - this time, the ER visits spread outside the family to my sister's friend (chest pains, she's ok now).
- Oh, and we, too, were visited by the Syracuse Medical Cooties. Evie wound up in the ER at the children's hospital Saturday night after having possibly eaten part of a mushroom in the yard. (She's fine - a dose of activated charcoal and some observation.) Two observations on the event: (1) the CT Poison Control people are great and (2) it's very helpful that our pediatrician is a bigwig at the children's hospital. He called to let them know John was coming with Evie and he didn't have to wait on queue at all.
- Feeling a bit isolated these days. It's funny how even the small interactions with store clerks or the preschool teachers can make one feel connected to the world and how deprived one feels when one can't even leave the house. I do realize, of course, that people are busy and this, too, shall pass; but, as my friend Marla says, "yeah, like a kidneystone!"
- I am grateful for John, who has been an enormous help. It's hard for me to accept the help. I feel guilty that I'm not doing more. I forget (though, to his vast credit, he does not) that feeding the baby is work too. Even though it takes up probably a good 8 hours a day (8-12 feedings of 30-60 minutes each, then the concurrent diaper changes)k, I'm just sitting on my ass while doing it so it makes me feel quite the lazy bum.
- Particularly when the girls are being truly wretched. Jealousy, exhaustion - not good for anyone's temper and the combination is really ... unpleasant. Evie is just getting into the tantrum age anyway and has taken to beating on her older sister (to Katie's credit, for the most part, she just bursts into hysterics instead of hitting back).
- I'm back at work (since last Wednesday, a week after my c-section) 10 hours a week. Thank the Lord in heaven it's from home but, still, between that in the evenings, watching 3 kids all day, recovering from abdominal surgery, and being woken 2-3x night, I am too tired to even get myself carried away in a good make believe.
- Next doc appointment on Wednesday. Should get ok'd to drive but, still, Matthew's too young to really go anywhere - particularly with all the H1N1 crud. But maybe I can get a spare half hour to just go for a drive or something by myself some night. As long as I'm back by the next feeding (an hour and a half apart lately - methinks a growth spurt is coming on).
Later.
Sep 25, 2009
Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig
Matthew William Patrick Kelly
8 lb 5 oz, 19.5" long
Evie at 17 months
Yogurt is good! Spoon usage? Not so much. ;)
Katie at 4 years
All imaginative sociability
And my heart is in your hands too, my own dear children.
Sep 15, 2009
We Have Ignition in 3-2-1...
Less than 12 hours to go.
Thanks for all the good wishes, everyone! I'll post as soon as possible after - probably Sunday night or Monday.
Thanks for all the good wishes, everyone! I'll post as soon as possible after - probably Sunday night or Monday.
T-minus 1.25
Katie has now been duly feted for her birthday. I cannot believe she's 4 already. Yow.
Only 29.25 hours until we leave for the hospital. It's damn weird this whole scheduled thing. I mean, Katie's birth was scheduled but the induction didn't take and it quickly went to unscheduled. Evie had a c-section scheduled but then, of course, arrived a month early without warning. It's just odd knowing that "ok, tomorrow I need to do blah-blah-blah because we need to get up early Wednesday."
I'm now officially on maternity leave - I know I'll have to check my work email tomorrow at least briefly but, other that that, I will not be doing work-work for the next week. Back at the keyboard for that on the 23rd.
Alrighty, I still have Katie's lunch to make and 18 cupcakes to frost for tomorrow. Yes, I bought the cupcakes for most of her class but this one poor kid has a violent peanut allergy and can't eat them. The preschool teachers won't let her eat anything I might make and send in for her either. So, I made the cupcakes, frosted a few and ran them over the backyard to her mom to send in with her. If they won't let her eat what her mom sends, then we're in bad shape for sure.
Oh, by the way, my dad was fine this a.m. so I'm pretty sure it was that he overdid it. We're on for Wed. a.m.
'Night all. Baby in less than a day and a half. Yikes!!
Only 29.25 hours until we leave for the hospital. It's damn weird this whole scheduled thing. I mean, Katie's birth was scheduled but the induction didn't take and it quickly went to unscheduled. Evie had a c-section scheduled but then, of course, arrived a month early without warning. It's just odd knowing that "ok, tomorrow I need to do blah-blah-blah because we need to get up early Wednesday."
I'm now officially on maternity leave - I know I'll have to check my work email tomorrow at least briefly but, other that that, I will not be doing work-work for the next week. Back at the keyboard for that on the 23rd.
Alrighty, I still have Katie's lunch to make and 18 cupcakes to frost for tomorrow. Yes, I bought the cupcakes for most of her class but this one poor kid has a violent peanut allergy and can't eat them. The preschool teachers won't let her eat anything I might make and send in for her either. So, I made the cupcakes, frosted a few and ran them over the backyard to her mom to send in with her. If they won't let her eat what her mom sends, then we're in bad shape for sure.
Oh, by the way, my dad was fine this a.m. so I'm pretty sure it was that he overdid it. We're on for Wed. a.m.
'Night all. Baby in less than a day and a half. Yikes!!
Sep 13, 2009
T-minus 2.5
Wrote this post once, damn Blogger ate it!
Ok, let me start with a little medical background refresher for my family for the last month...
August 14th... my sister has her knee put back together from a complete ACL and partial MCL tear.
August the next week... she passes out and convulses in her bedroom - double pulmonary embolism.
August/September... my brother-in-law (sister's hubby) winds up in the hospital with some sort of bladder issue *and* viral meningitis.
Two days after that... my dad is diagnosed as needing a (basically) immediate hip replacement.
Today... my parents arrive in CT from NY. Dad gets sick with vertigo, nauseau, and chills.
Also today... my sister-in-law is diagnosed with Lyme Disease and sky high BP.
Also today... my youngest has been running a high enough fever all day that we've been crisscrossing the ibuprofen and acetaminophen - no other symptoms.
As you can see, we've got some pretty damn nasty medical/bad luck cooties floating around.
So, here's my problem. I'm having major abdominal surgery Wednesday morning and, of course, it's not like they can put it off. Katie turns 4 tomorrow. We're supposed to be having my folks and John's mom over for dinner tomorrow. Also, my parents are supposed to be babysitting my children at 5 a.m. on Wednesday whilst I go have the aforementioned major abdominal surgery. I do not have any urge to catch whatever Dad's got right before said surgery. I have no urge to have my children catch whatever Dad's got when I won't be around to take care of them. I have even less of an urge to have a newborn exposed to this shit. Do I disinvite Dad to the birthday celebration? Will Mom be carrying enough exposure to expose us? Should I be finding an alternate sitter for Wednesday a.m. (pretty damn difficult to find someone for that early on such short notice!)? I don't want to cause a family rift here... maybe I'm overreacting?
Got The Suitcase just about packed - one thing I learned from the last 2 stays is that what you really need most is stuff to do, decent shampoo, and toothpaste. It gets boring lying around in bed, particularly when you're still attached to a catheter and can't move around. Also, when you're finally allowed to shower, you really don't want to use the industrial strength bar soap provided. And, of course, toothpaste isn't provided. Worse to worst, you can always use your finger if you don't have a toothbrush but it's not the Ritz... they don't have a front desk to keep you stocked.
In other news, got my hair cut - yay! Now sporting a very Tasha Yar-esque 'do. Good thing is I like it. Bad thing is I like it... I'm supposed to think it's too short. I, unfortunately, don't. And the shorter my hair is, the more often I have to have it cut, which gets expensive.
Any advice out there on the family medical situation?
Ok, let me start with a little medical background refresher for my family for the last month...
August 14th... my sister has her knee put back together from a complete ACL and partial MCL tear.
August the next week... she passes out and convulses in her bedroom - double pulmonary embolism.
August/September... my brother-in-law (sister's hubby) winds up in the hospital with some sort of bladder issue *and* viral meningitis.
Two days after that... my dad is diagnosed as needing a (basically) immediate hip replacement.
Today... my parents arrive in CT from NY. Dad gets sick with vertigo, nauseau, and chills.
Also today... my sister-in-law is diagnosed with Lyme Disease and sky high BP.
Also today... my youngest has been running a high enough fever all day that we've been crisscrossing the ibuprofen and acetaminophen - no other symptoms.
As you can see, we've got some pretty damn nasty medical/bad luck cooties floating around.
So, here's my problem. I'm having major abdominal surgery Wednesday morning and, of course, it's not like they can put it off. Katie turns 4 tomorrow. We're supposed to be having my folks and John's mom over for dinner tomorrow. Also, my parents are supposed to be babysitting my children at 5 a.m. on Wednesday whilst I go have the aforementioned major abdominal surgery. I do not have any urge to catch whatever Dad's got right before said surgery. I have no urge to have my children catch whatever Dad's got when I won't be around to take care of them. I have even less of an urge to have a newborn exposed to this shit. Do I disinvite Dad to the birthday celebration? Will Mom be carrying enough exposure to expose us? Should I be finding an alternate sitter for Wednesday a.m. (pretty damn difficult to find someone for that early on such short notice!)? I don't want to cause a family rift here... maybe I'm overreacting?
Got The Suitcase just about packed - one thing I learned from the last 2 stays is that what you really need most is stuff to do, decent shampoo, and toothpaste. It gets boring lying around in bed, particularly when you're still attached to a catheter and can't move around. Also, when you're finally allowed to shower, you really don't want to use the industrial strength bar soap provided. And, of course, toothpaste isn't provided. Worse to worst, you can always use your finger if you don't have a toothbrush but it's not the Ritz... they don't have a front desk to keep you stocked.
In other news, got my hair cut - yay! Now sporting a very Tasha Yar-esque 'do. Good thing is I like it. Bad thing is I like it... I'm supposed to think it's too short. I, unfortunately, don't. And the shorter my hair is, the more often I have to have it cut, which gets expensive.
Any advice out there on the family medical situation?
Sep 12, 2009
T-minus 3.5
Just in case anyone was wondering, screw-mount drawer locks are a bitch to put in. Two down, three to go. Not sure I'm going to make it on that one.
I was also supposed to pack The Suitcase today. Didn't get there.
Did get down to Ikea though to get the easel for Katie's birthday and made the lovely discovery that its price was knocked down from $25 to $15, allowing me to buy the paper roll holder thingie as well.
Made quiche yesterday - 3 of 'em. Two went in the freezer and we ate one (well, most of one... ok, well, John and Katie weren't enamored so *I* ate most of one and they picked at it) for dinner. I'd like to get a lasagne made and frozen too - I need to get those no-boil lasagne noodles first though.
Last night was rough. Katie wouldn't go down for screaming, got up in the middle of the night and wouldn't go down (again), and then got up at an ungodly hour and screamed some more. What was she screaming about, you ask? Get this. She was screaming because Evie was babbling at her. Of course, the more she screams, the more Evie ramps it up, thinking it's a game. Absofuckinglutely ridiculous. I also got up seven, yes seven, times to pee.
Oooh, and I got a package today! Fun!! I haven't opened it yet but I'm thrilled!!
Alrighty, I'm babbling and tomorrow is also a day. G'night all.
I was also supposed to pack The Suitcase today. Didn't get there.
Did get down to Ikea though to get the easel for Katie's birthday and made the lovely discovery that its price was knocked down from $25 to $15, allowing me to buy the paper roll holder thingie as well.
Made quiche yesterday - 3 of 'em. Two went in the freezer and we ate one (well, most of one... ok, well, John and Katie weren't enamored so *I* ate most of one and they picked at it) for dinner. I'd like to get a lasagne made and frozen too - I need to get those no-boil lasagne noodles first though.
Last night was rough. Katie wouldn't go down for screaming, got up in the middle of the night and wouldn't go down (again), and then got up at an ungodly hour and screamed some more. What was she screaming about, you ask? Get this. She was screaming because Evie was babbling at her. Of course, the more she screams, the more Evie ramps it up, thinking it's a game. Absofuckinglutely ridiculous. I also got up seven, yes seven, times to pee.
Oooh, and I got a package today! Fun!! I haven't opened it yet but I'm thrilled!!
Alrighty, I'm babbling and tomorrow is also a day. G'night all.
Sep 11, 2009
A Different Day
It's pouring today - gray skies, chilled air. More late October than early September.
It was not this way 8 years ago. It was one of the most stunningly beautiful early fall days I've seen. The sky was blue - oh so very blue - and the air was the perfect fall temperature - just warm enough to make a jacket unnecessary. The leaves were just starting to turn here on a few trees.
It was, in short, utterly incongruous with the hatred- and jet-fuelled destruction unleashed on New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania. A day filled with that much horror should have had weather in keeping: rain, snow, windchill, sleet. Anything but the crystalline clarity of the colors and air that surrounded us.
Though I still enjoy that type of fall day very much, I can't help but think of the lives lost that day when I experience one.
It was not this way 8 years ago. It was one of the most stunningly beautiful early fall days I've seen. The sky was blue - oh so very blue - and the air was the perfect fall temperature - just warm enough to make a jacket unnecessary. The leaves were just starting to turn here on a few trees.
It was, in short, utterly incongruous with the hatred- and jet-fuelled destruction unleashed on New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania. A day filled with that much horror should have had weather in keeping: rain, snow, windchill, sleet. Anything but the crystalline clarity of the colors and air that surrounded us.
Though I still enjoy that type of fall day very much, I can't help but think of the lives lost that day when I experience one.
Sep 10, 2009
T-minus 5.5
Had the first women's choir rehearsal of the season tonight. Didn't need to go, I suppose, given that I won't be singing for another month plus but I needed to get out of the house. It's my only "adult only" activity - singing - and I've missed it sorely over the summer!
Turns out my passenger missed it too! Or maybe he was objecting to it. Hard to tell. He danced about a fair amount though!
Last gym visit before his arrival was today as well. Guess I'll start packing the suitcase (i.e., the repurposed gym bag - LOL) tomorrow.
Turns out my passenger missed it too! Or maybe he was objecting to it. Hard to tell. He danced about a fair amount though!
Last gym visit before his arrival was today as well. Guess I'll start packing the suitcase (i.e., the repurposed gym bag - LOL) tomorrow.
Sep 9, 2009
T-Minus-6.5
As in, 6.5 days until the occupant makes his way, via slice in my abdomen, into the world. You'd think I'd be relaxed and calm by now, that I wouldn't worry about him and just be focused on getting through the last week of discomfort.
Now, don't get me wrong, being this pregnant is distinctly uncomfortable. But.
But I worry. I know way too much about what can go wrong. Sure, our loss was early on but I know a lot of people who lost their babies at the last minute. Cord accidents, true knots, placental abruptions, previously undiagnosed genetic disorders. If he's not moving, I worry that he's still. If he's moving, I worry that he's working his umbilical cord into a knot or around his neck.
It doesn't help that I'm beat and don't really have the energy to do the last few remaining things that need to be done (or can't - i.e., put the new, narrower car seats in the backseat - I simply don't fit it my backseat at this point). He's dropped so I'm sleeping better at least - I can breathe without stabbing pain in my stomach. But I can't focus for the worry.
Anybody got a nice shiny object?
Now, don't get me wrong, being this pregnant is distinctly uncomfortable. But.
But I worry. I know way too much about what can go wrong. Sure, our loss was early on but I know a lot of people who lost their babies at the last minute. Cord accidents, true knots, placental abruptions, previously undiagnosed genetic disorders. If he's not moving, I worry that he's still. If he's moving, I worry that he's working his umbilical cord into a knot or around his neck.
It doesn't help that I'm beat and don't really have the energy to do the last few remaining things that need to be done (or can't - i.e., put the new, narrower car seats in the backseat - I simply don't fit it my backseat at this point). He's dropped so I'm sleeping better at least - I can breathe without stabbing pain in my stomach. But I can't focus for the worry.
Anybody got a nice shiny object?
Sep 2, 2009
Ahhhhh, Back to School
So, my blood pressure fell by tens of points today. My nearly 4 year old went back to preschool - 9:30 - 2:30 T, W, and Th this year. I'd feel guilty about how good I feel about this but for three things: (1) she LOVES school, (2) she's much better behaved when she returns (which doesn't say much for my parenting, I'll admit) and, best of all, (3) I like her a LOT better for having the break from her during the day.
I got an hour to myself this afternoon while the 16 month old was napping. It was glorious. Yes, I should have folded the laundry. Yes, I should have finished up the bills. Yes, I should've changed the sheets in the crib and put away all the girls' too big/too small clothes that are cluttering up the nursery. Yes, I should done any number of practical things that are hard to do with the kids about. Screw that shit. The sunroom was the perfect temperature with the windows open and I looked out on a sunny cheerful backyard, it was quiet and peaceful, and I was alone. Alone!!! I played on Facebook and sent a couple of long, chatty emails to friends. Totally fucking worth it.
Cheers all!
I got an hour to myself this afternoon while the 16 month old was napping. It was glorious. Yes, I should have folded the laundry. Yes, I should have finished up the bills. Yes, I should've changed the sheets in the crib and put away all the girls' too big/too small clothes that are cluttering up the nursery. Yes, I should done any number of practical things that are hard to do with the kids about. Screw that shit. The sunroom was the perfect temperature with the windows open and I looked out on a sunny cheerful backyard, it was quiet and peaceful, and I was alone. Alone!!! I played on Facebook and sent a couple of long, chatty emails to friends. Totally fucking worth it.
Cheers all!
Aug 26, 2009
Rest in Peace, Senator. You Will Be Missed.
“For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die.” Edward Moore Kennedy
Aug 25, 2009
::Smacks Head in Frustration::
You'd think I'd learn. After all, I've been part of my family for 42 years. But I never do. Sometimes, I am just a fucking idiot!!
Someday, someday I will learn not to comment... on anything.
Someday, someday I will learn to just take what I am offered, whether I need/want/can use it or not, and stuff it in a box or give it away.
Someday, someday I will learn to not offer any details of my personal life.
Someday.
Someday.
Someday, someday I will learn not to comment... on anything.
Someday, someday I will learn to just take what I am offered, whether I need/want/can use it or not, and stuff it in a box or give it away.
Someday, someday I will learn to not offer any details of my personal life.
Someday.
Someday.
Aug 19, 2009
If Today Was Your Last Day...
Today was perilously close to being my sister's last day. She dodged a big time bullet.
She had reconstructive knee surgery (completely torn ACL, partially torn MCL, extra long something'r'other that involved drilling into the bone) last Friday. She was 911'd to the hospital today after passing out and convulsing. She just managed before she passed out to click the button on the walkie-talkie and whisper "help, help".
Fortunately, my mom's house (next door) was quiet; she heard the whisper and went next door where she found my sister unconscious and, then, convulsing, in her bedroom.
And, for once I'm not going to save the whole lesson for the end, here's the first part: LISTEN when other people tell you about what they're going through. Even if you don't care that it's what friends do, you never know what you'll learn that may be useful later. For example, I learned from one of my best friends about pulmonary embolisms awhile back.
So we pushed for the ER staff to check for that. The ER doctor rather arrogantly dismissed the idea because my sister didn't recall having a hard time breathing. We pushed some more. (Ok, I pushed my mom via phone, she pushed my sister's husband via phone, my sister's husband and my dad pushed the ER doctor - it was kind of a chain event thing.) The doctor pushed on my sister's leg, it hurt. They did an ultrasound. Yep, a clot. They sent her up to get scanned all over. She does, indeed, have a clot in the upper lobe of each lung.
So here's the second part of the lesson: DEMAND to be heard. Unfortunately, we can't rely wholly on the health care system to know what's wrong with us and, in the end, we are responsible for our own health care. If it doesn't make sense in your gut, ask questions. If it still doesn't make sense, ask more questions. Keep asking, keep pushing.
If we hadn't, if we'd just accepted the codeine allergy theory, my sister would've been sent home from the ER with nothing more than "you just fainted" and a pat on the head which would have, most likely, killed her.
Scared the shit out of us all but she'll live. My sincerest thanks to that friend - I am so sorry you had to go through what you did to learn that but what you learned and shared saved my sister's butt. You know who you are and you're one of my best friends for many, many reasons.
She had reconstructive knee surgery (completely torn ACL, partially torn MCL, extra long something'r'other that involved drilling into the bone) last Friday. She was 911'd to the hospital today after passing out and convulsing. She just managed before she passed out to click the button on the walkie-talkie and whisper "help, help".
Fortunately, my mom's house (next door) was quiet; she heard the whisper and went next door where she found my sister unconscious and, then, convulsing, in her bedroom.
And, for once I'm not going to save the whole lesson for the end, here's the first part: LISTEN when other people tell you about what they're going through. Even if you don't care that it's what friends do, you never know what you'll learn that may be useful later. For example, I learned from one of my best friends about pulmonary embolisms awhile back.
So we pushed for the ER staff to check for that. The ER doctor rather arrogantly dismissed the idea because my sister didn't recall having a hard time breathing. We pushed some more. (Ok, I pushed my mom via phone, she pushed my sister's husband via phone, my sister's husband and my dad pushed the ER doctor - it was kind of a chain event thing.) The doctor pushed on my sister's leg, it hurt. They did an ultrasound. Yep, a clot. They sent her up to get scanned all over. She does, indeed, have a clot in the upper lobe of each lung.
So here's the second part of the lesson: DEMAND to be heard. Unfortunately, we can't rely wholly on the health care system to know what's wrong with us and, in the end, we are responsible for our own health care. If it doesn't make sense in your gut, ask questions. If it still doesn't make sense, ask more questions. Keep asking, keep pushing.
If we hadn't, if we'd just accepted the codeine allergy theory, my sister would've been sent home from the ER with nothing more than "you just fainted" and a pat on the head which would have, most likely, killed her.
Scared the shit out of us all but she'll live. My sincerest thanks to that friend - I am so sorry you had to go through what you did to learn that but what you learned and shared saved my sister's butt. You know who you are and you're one of my best friends for many, many reasons.
Aug 12, 2009
When Does Parenting Become Fun?
I had to leave music class today 2 songs in because Katie was being so disruptive (despite multiple warnings and a stern discussion before class) it just wasn't fair to the other kids n the class.
Now, granted, I think too much. But, in thinking too much today, I believe I've hit on why I get so very angry with Katie when she gets in these long, long spells of rotten behavior: she takes every drop of joy there could be out of parenting.
I want to like her. I want to have fun with her. I want to share the things I see that I find cool. I want to take her neat places and giggle together. Her behavior precludes it. I have to be the hardass every minute and it gets wearing. If I'd wanted to be a drill sergeant, I'd've enlisted.
I really want to like her and it makes me very, very sad that I don't.
Now, granted, I think too much. But, in thinking too much today, I believe I've hit on why I get so very angry with Katie when she gets in these long, long spells of rotten behavior: she takes every drop of joy there could be out of parenting.
I want to like her. I want to have fun with her. I want to share the things I see that I find cool. I want to take her neat places and giggle together. Her behavior precludes it. I have to be the hardass every minute and it gets wearing. If I'd wanted to be a drill sergeant, I'd've enlisted.
I really want to like her and it makes me very, very sad that I don't.
Aug 11, 2009
God, I Love My OB!
So, last night, John and I drafted an appeal letter on the ultrasound denials. This morning, I called my OB's office before I sent it, just in case they had anything they wanted me to add.
Well, Jessica says, they got the same letters yesterday. My OB was apparently really upset and called their medical director and raised holy hell (my term, not hers). The ultrasounds are now approved.
I could not ask for a better doctor.
Well, Jessica says, they got the same letters yesterday. My OB was apparently really upset and called their medical director and raised holy hell (my term, not hers). The ultrasounds are now approved.
I could not ask for a better doctor.
Aug 10, 2009
Oops, They Did It Again...
Ok, first, please forgive the language that is about to follow...
GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING HEALTH INSURANCE COMPANY!
::takes deep breath and visualizes their medical director roasting on a spit::
Ok, now that the vent is out of the way, let me explain.
Yes, the health insurance company is at it again - determined they shall not fail in their mission of racheting the stress level of pregnant moms to Total Freak Out Level by the last few weeks of pregnancy. People who have been reading here awhile may remember that, last time, they threatened about 6 weeks before I delivered that I wouldn't be able to deliver at the hospital where my OB practices. That, being an issue that affected the state insurance pool as well as our tiny little bit of business, got resolved by the State Controller getting involved.
This time... well, a bit of background first... Evie, my 16 month old, was delivered nearly a month early as her amniotic fluid levels had dropped precipitously (>50%) from Tuesday to Thursday. This time, the OB warned us that the insurance company wasn't going to cover twice weekly fluid check ultrasounds and we've been scheduled for weekly ones with fetal non-stress tests for the next 5 1/2 weeks until delivery. Well, today, my mail brought me the news that the insurance company won't cover those either - sorry, they say, it's not medically necessary. If a baby doesn't have enough amniotic fluid, first, he or she stops growing, then, loses weight, and, if it goes on long enough, the child essentially starves to death in the womb. There is no question that ultrasounds are safe, they are not experimental, and have been shown, as I am a direct example of, to save fetal lives.
Not medically necessary, my substantial ass.
GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING HEALTH INSURANCE COMPANY!
::takes deep breath and visualizes their medical director roasting on a spit::
Ok, now that the vent is out of the way, let me explain.
Yes, the health insurance company is at it again - determined they shall not fail in their mission of racheting the stress level of pregnant moms to Total Freak Out Level by the last few weeks of pregnancy. People who have been reading here awhile may remember that, last time, they threatened about 6 weeks before I delivered that I wouldn't be able to deliver at the hospital where my OB practices. That, being an issue that affected the state insurance pool as well as our tiny little bit of business, got resolved by the State Controller getting involved.
This time... well, a bit of background first... Evie, my 16 month old, was delivered nearly a month early as her amniotic fluid levels had dropped precipitously (>50%) from Tuesday to Thursday. This time, the OB warned us that the insurance company wasn't going to cover twice weekly fluid check ultrasounds and we've been scheduled for weekly ones with fetal non-stress tests for the next 5 1/2 weeks until delivery. Well, today, my mail brought me the news that the insurance company won't cover those either - sorry, they say, it's not medically necessary. If a baby doesn't have enough amniotic fluid, first, he or she stops growing, then, loses weight, and, if it goes on long enough, the child essentially starves to death in the womb. There is no question that ultrasounds are safe, they are not experimental, and have been shown, as I am a direct example of, to save fetal lives.
Not medically necessary, my substantial ass.
Aug 4, 2009
Mothering Fail
So, today, we're trying a new experiment.
Whereas Katie can't be trusted to sleep in the guest room, and
Whereas putting her and Evie in the same room for nap was an unmitigated failure, and
Whereas she clearly isn't getting enough sleep,
Now, therefore, she is lying in a little blanket bed on the living room floor under my reluctantly watchful eye. She has a stack of books and a big stuffed animal. I'm playing new agey meditation music on the computer.
So far, I've had to remind her of the no-talking rule 6 times. She's been (sort of) down 10 minutes.
The sleep thing is getting to be a real issue because her behavior is exponentially worse when she's tired. She's 10 times as sassy, 10 times as defiant, and 10 times as disobedient. Given that she's really rather sassy, defiant, and disobedient in the first place (well, she is almost 4!), it makes for days filled with parenting crises of confidence.
I get tired of spending what feels like 90% of my time yelling at her. It's not fair to her. It's not fair to Evie. It's not fair to me. I don't like my household to be wreathed in such negativity but I also know it's my job to civilize my child. I can't release her out into the wild without such things as manners, knowing when to shut the fuck up, how to be considerate to others, yada yada yada.
This boils down, at this point, to teaching her that disobedience has a price. The trick, however, is proving to be finding the price that will make her realize it's not worth it.
Take picking up. I know, for a fact, that the child is perfectly capable of picking up; she's done it on multiple occasions. Sure, things may not always be in the most logical or "proper" spot afterward but, hey, she's 3. But, like most of us, she'd far rather play than pick up. Now, just so you know, I don't expect her to remember to pick up. She gets reminders - several - and some direction in how to go about it (even though she's proven she can do it without direction when she wants).
So, in comes Sol, the Pick Up Fairy. (Personally, I always imagined the Pick Up Fairy to be a girl - my husband, however, insists the PUF's name is Sol (for S.O.L.). Makes for an interesting visual since it's already been established that the PUF wears striped tights. Of course, it does explain the bowler hat - it covers his bald spot.) Sol recently added our house to his rounds. After Katie goes to bed, he comes and takes the toys she's left out. Some, he'll let me put away for Evie, some go off to Ukrainian orphanages. Sounds like it'd be a pretty good incentive to pick up, right? Yeah. So did we. So far? Not so much. We get a lot of "well, I didn't like that anyway!" and "I don't want it!" Yeah, she does the martyr thing. I absolutely hate taking my child's playthings away but, if she refuses to even make the attempt to take care of them, she doesn't deserve them. It usually leaves me on the verge of tears.
Another constant is refusing to put on her shoes. She knows how. She's actually quite good at it. But, if she doesn't feel like putting on her shoes, she refuses to. She'll sit there like a lump. Like after swimming class yesterday. Despite the pavement being "too hot!!!", would she put them on? No. She wound up having to go to bed without supper as soon as we got home. It seems an overreaction to the situation, I know, but it's so much bigger than the shoes. Because, basically, it all boils down to this: Do what you're told when you're told. And she doesn't... consistently, unremittingly doesn't.
Ironically, my 15 1/2 month old is far more obedient that Katie has ever been. She'll even willingly help pick up, she holds her foot out to have her shoes put on, she tries to help when we dress her (all three things, Katie never did). It gives me a little hope. Because, otherwise, I feel like a total failure as a mother.
Oh, by the way, now, 1/2 hour into naptime, she's had to move to her time out spot for the remainder of nap (with blanket, pillow, and stuffed animal) because she simply wouldn't stop talking.
Whereas Katie can't be trusted to sleep in the guest room, and
Whereas putting her and Evie in the same room for nap was an unmitigated failure, and
Whereas she clearly isn't getting enough sleep,
Now, therefore, she is lying in a little blanket bed on the living room floor under my reluctantly watchful eye. She has a stack of books and a big stuffed animal. I'm playing new agey meditation music on the computer.
So far, I've had to remind her of the no-talking rule 6 times. She's been (sort of) down 10 minutes.
The sleep thing is getting to be a real issue because her behavior is exponentially worse when she's tired. She's 10 times as sassy, 10 times as defiant, and 10 times as disobedient. Given that she's really rather sassy, defiant, and disobedient in the first place (well, she is almost 4!), it makes for days filled with parenting crises of confidence.
I get tired of spending what feels like 90% of my time yelling at her. It's not fair to her. It's not fair to Evie. It's not fair to me. I don't like my household to be wreathed in such negativity but I also know it's my job to civilize my child. I can't release her out into the wild without such things as manners, knowing when to shut the fuck up, how to be considerate to others, yada yada yada.
This boils down, at this point, to teaching her that disobedience has a price. The trick, however, is proving to be finding the price that will make her realize it's not worth it.
Take picking up. I know, for a fact, that the child is perfectly capable of picking up; she's done it on multiple occasions. Sure, things may not always be in the most logical or "proper" spot afterward but, hey, she's 3. But, like most of us, she'd far rather play than pick up. Now, just so you know, I don't expect her to remember to pick up. She gets reminders - several - and some direction in how to go about it (even though she's proven she can do it without direction when she wants).
So, in comes Sol, the Pick Up Fairy. (Personally, I always imagined the Pick Up Fairy to be a girl - my husband, however, insists the PUF's name is Sol (for S.O.L.). Makes for an interesting visual since it's already been established that the PUF wears striped tights. Of course, it does explain the bowler hat - it covers his bald spot.) Sol recently added our house to his rounds. After Katie goes to bed, he comes and takes the toys she's left out. Some, he'll let me put away for Evie, some go off to Ukrainian orphanages. Sounds like it'd be a pretty good incentive to pick up, right? Yeah. So did we. So far? Not so much. We get a lot of "well, I didn't like that anyway!" and "I don't want it!" Yeah, she does the martyr thing. I absolutely hate taking my child's playthings away but, if she refuses to even make the attempt to take care of them, she doesn't deserve them. It usually leaves me on the verge of tears.
Another constant is refusing to put on her shoes. She knows how. She's actually quite good at it. But, if she doesn't feel like putting on her shoes, she refuses to. She'll sit there like a lump. Like after swimming class yesterday. Despite the pavement being "too hot!!!", would she put them on? No. She wound up having to go to bed without supper as soon as we got home. It seems an overreaction to the situation, I know, but it's so much bigger than the shoes. Because, basically, it all boils down to this: Do what you're told when you're told. And she doesn't... consistently, unremittingly doesn't.
Ironically, my 15 1/2 month old is far more obedient that Katie has ever been. She'll even willingly help pick up, she holds her foot out to have her shoes put on, she tries to help when we dress her (all three things, Katie never did). It gives me a little hope. Because, otherwise, I feel like a total failure as a mother.
Oh, by the way, now, 1/2 hour into naptime, she's had to move to her time out spot for the remainder of nap (with blanket, pillow, and stuffed animal) because she simply wouldn't stop talking.
Jul 28, 2009
The Patience Poem
A friend recently sent me a poem she'd written about her experience with grief in losing a child. I'd like to share it here (with her permission). Thanks, Robyn for putting into words what is so hard for people to understand about we parents with children who are no longer with us. It's the first thing, she says, she's ever written. I hope it's not the last.
Patience…………..Understanding
When a child dies a part of you dies with that child
A future you dreamed about no longer exists.
Everyone waits on the side for you to move on.
Everyone wonders why you still may grieve from time to time.
Have they ever lost a child?
Can they really know what we are feeling?
Everyone must understand this loss is a life long journey.
Patience…………Understanding - that’s all one can do.
Those of us who have had a child die don’t want the pain or want to dwell on the past.
The pain is just there.
It eases up and gets easier, but the pain will live with us forever.
Forever because it’s a future we will never know.
Only a dream we dreamed.
Only a prayer we prayed.
Only a wish we wished.
Only a hope we had hoped.
Not a day goes by that we don’t think of our child that is not with us.
It may not be an all day affair wondering what they would be doing right now.
But it may be a song we hear
A moment we feel
A smell we come across
A short simple thought of that child who is not with us.
Just give us Patience……………Understanding
Our emotion, whatever it may be, will forever be with us.
Robyn Lloyd
Mother of Hailey
Born still May 31, 2008
July 2009
Patience…………..Understanding
When a child dies a part of you dies with that child
A future you dreamed about no longer exists.
Everyone waits on the side for you to move on.
Everyone wonders why you still may grieve from time to time.
Have they ever lost a child?
Can they really know what we are feeling?
Everyone must understand this loss is a life long journey.
Patience…………Understanding - that’s all one can do.
Those of us who have had a child die don’t want the pain or want to dwell on the past.
The pain is just there.
It eases up and gets easier, but the pain will live with us forever.
Forever because it’s a future we will never know.
Only a dream we dreamed.
Only a prayer we prayed.
Only a wish we wished.
Only a hope we had hoped.
Not a day goes by that we don’t think of our child that is not with us.
It may not be an all day affair wondering what they would be doing right now.
But it may be a song we hear
A moment we feel
A smell we come across
A short simple thought of that child who is not with us.
Just give us Patience……………Understanding
Our emotion, whatever it may be, will forever be with us.
Robyn Lloyd
Mother of Hailey
Born still May 31, 2008
July 2009
Jul 22, 2009
Another Dichotomy
I'm lucky. My interactions with the police - whether troopers or local officers - have always been polite and respectful on both sides. I have always found the people I have known - whether personally or in their professional capacity - to be professional, considerate, thoughtful folk who honestly care about people.
A post came across a listserv I'm on today that really appalled me and spat in the face of what my own experience has been of the police. (This is a listserv for people who have lost children and are either pregnant or trying to conceive afterward.) It just upset me so much that I have to relate it (in abbreviated fashion) here in the hopes that someone has some ideas on how this woman can keep other people from being treated this way or at least get an apology.
This woman lost her baby at 7 wks old. She called the ambulance when she went to check on her baby and the girl wasn't breathing. The paramedic told her she could ride in the ambulance. The police refused to let her, detaining her for hours. The baby was pronounced dead at 7:15 a.m., she wasn't even told for another 2 hours and 20 minutes. When she was finally allowed to see her baby, it was for less than a minute, the child was completely covered, and she wasn't allowed to hold her, touch her, or even uncover her to see her face or kiss her one last time.
They were demeaning and aggressive, tried to get her to say she did things she hadn't done and to confuse her statements. They wouldn't allow her husband to be with her. They made no bones about the fact that they thought she killed her baby. An autopsy showed no signs of any trauma and the cause of death was determined to be SIDS.
She accepts they had a job to do but, you know, that doesn't excuse cruelty. No apology was given. No expression of condolence. They never, even after the autopsy, returned any of the items with the baby at the time they took her from her parents - not even her pacifier. No wonder so many people don't trust the police!
In every field, there are good eggs and bad ones. It's that kind of police that give police a bad name - just as the sleazy attorneys that advertise on busses and cheesy TV ads give the honest ones a bad name. Just as there are far more honest attorneys than sleazy ones, I'm sure there are far more good and compassionate police than cruel ones but it's situations like this that just make my heart cry. I mean, for God's sake, they lost their baby - at very least have the courtesy to give back her pacifier and say "I'm so sorry for your loss."
As I said, I'm lucky. The police officers I know and have known are good people that go out of their way to be kind, even as they are professional - ones who take seriously the dictum "to protect and serve". I am grateful for them and, at one time, thought about becoming one (before my mother pointed out rather bluntly I was way too fat, way too clumsy, and way too blind). I think my rose-coloured glasses just got broken.
A post came across a listserv I'm on today that really appalled me and spat in the face of what my own experience has been of the police. (This is a listserv for people who have lost children and are either pregnant or trying to conceive afterward.) It just upset me so much that I have to relate it (in abbreviated fashion) here in the hopes that someone has some ideas on how this woman can keep other people from being treated this way or at least get an apology.
This woman lost her baby at 7 wks old. She called the ambulance when she went to check on her baby and the girl wasn't breathing. The paramedic told her she could ride in the ambulance. The police refused to let her, detaining her for hours. The baby was pronounced dead at 7:15 a.m., she wasn't even told for another 2 hours and 20 minutes. When she was finally allowed to see her baby, it was for less than a minute, the child was completely covered, and she wasn't allowed to hold her, touch her, or even uncover her to see her face or kiss her one last time.
They were demeaning and aggressive, tried to get her to say she did things she hadn't done and to confuse her statements. They wouldn't allow her husband to be with her. They made no bones about the fact that they thought she killed her baby. An autopsy showed no signs of any trauma and the cause of death was determined to be SIDS.
She accepts they had a job to do but, you know, that doesn't excuse cruelty. No apology was given. No expression of condolence. They never, even after the autopsy, returned any of the items with the baby at the time they took her from her parents - not even her pacifier. No wonder so many people don't trust the police!
In every field, there are good eggs and bad ones. It's that kind of police that give police a bad name - just as the sleazy attorneys that advertise on busses and cheesy TV ads give the honest ones a bad name. Just as there are far more honest attorneys than sleazy ones, I'm sure there are far more good and compassionate police than cruel ones but it's situations like this that just make my heart cry. I mean, for God's sake, they lost their baby - at very least have the courtesy to give back her pacifier and say "I'm so sorry for your loss."
As I said, I'm lucky. The police officers I know and have known are good people that go out of their way to be kind, even as they are professional - ones who take seriously the dictum "to protect and serve". I am grateful for them and, at one time, thought about becoming one (before my mother pointed out rather bluntly I was way too fat, way too clumsy, and way too blind). I think my rose-coloured glasses just got broken.
The Only Good Thing About Morning
is that it means you survived the night before.
My 3-going-on-4-going-on-14 year old starts talking the minute she wakes up and keeps talking until she goes to sleep. Sometimes she even talks in her sleep. "Mommy," she pleads when asked to 'please dear God be quiet', "but I have to talk."
I need earplugs for the morning until I can have coffee again!!
In the meantime, in case anyone can answer this, I'd appreciate it..."who was the queen for baby Jesus?" Also, in case you're curious, she advised me that she straightened the pepper so it wasn't tipping (FYI, it wasn't tipping in the first place) and "what sound does pep make?"... and the list goes on... and on... and on...
"Mommy, I have something to tell you - why is the fan not on? Mom, I'm hot!!!" And, by the way, her "shoes are locked." No, I have no idea what that means either.
Definitely earplugs. Except then I couldn't hear if the baby needed me. Crap.
My 3-going-on-4-going-on-14 year old starts talking the minute she wakes up and keeps talking until she goes to sleep. Sometimes she even talks in her sleep. "Mommy," she pleads when asked to 'please dear God be quiet', "but I have to talk."
I need earplugs for the morning until I can have coffee again!!
In the meantime, in case anyone can answer this, I'd appreciate it..."who was the queen for baby Jesus?" Also, in case you're curious, she advised me that she straightened the pepper so it wasn't tipping (FYI, it wasn't tipping in the first place) and "what sound does pep make?"... and the list goes on... and on... and on...
"Mommy, I have something to tell you - why is the fan not on? Mom, I'm hot!!!" And, by the way, her "shoes are locked." No, I have no idea what that means either.
Definitely earplugs. Except then I couldn't hear if the baby needed me. Crap.
Jul 13, 2009
Ideas Among the Missing
Ok, I've had about 8 things I've wanted to blog about in the last month but can I remember any of them when I actually sit down to write? No, of course not. Because that would be the hallmark of a practical, organized person with a calm and rational brain. Which, of course, would not be me. So I'll just babble for a while. You might as well tune out now!
Got taken to see the Goodspeed Opera House production of Camelot last Saturday and to dinner too! It was wonderful but sad - a dichotomy of an evening. The company I was in was superlative. Dinner was absolutely marvelous - mussels, clams, and shrimp over homemade wide noodle pasta with light bacon alfredo sauce. Absolutely spectacular. The production was, as Goodspeed productions typically are, excellent. Gorgeous sets, beautiful costuming, wonderful cast. It's, at its heart, though, a sad story. Lerner and Lowe did a wonderful job, as did the cast, of really portraying how heartbreaking the triangle is for each of the three. Love is a funny thing and catches us each in many ways. Humanity, also, at its heart, is a funny thing. The inevitable war that results from a king's attempt to maintain the civilized society they all so strived for is tragic.
The sense of dichotomy is heightened, for me, as the reason I got to go was that their traditional 4th for the dinner'n'show evening was direly ill and in the hospital and, indeed, 2 of my 3 hosts left at intermission to be with her. So, as thrilled as I was to be there, I couldn't help feeling somewhat guilty that my good fortune came only at the cost of another's misfortune.
~~~
I told my mother off two weekends ago. I just couldn't take constantly not being good enough. I find it very interesting that she told me it was all in my head and that no one else feels that way when I know, for a fact, that each of my siblings has had the same conversation with her.
My sister thinks my father is trying to eat himself to death. Of course, if I lived with my mother, I'd probably try too... or fall into the "candy's dandy but liquor's quicker" trap.
It's another dichotomy. She's my mother and I love her. I do my best to see her personal demons behind the vitriol and let things go. Still, one can't help but feel those barbs strike home.
~~~
Perhaps my life itself is simply a dichotomy. I don't feel like a boring person (to me) yet, when I examine what others must think... it's pretty obvious that I am. My mother termed me once, as I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before, her ornamental child. I am still torn as to whether it was said fondly or as a veiled slap.
Does it just come down to whether or not being ornamental does any good in the world? Maybe so. Do I, despite my protestations to the contrary, really believe underneath it that being the ornamental child is useless? Have I bought into the Puritan Work Ethic so sternly that I dismiss my own worth if indeed there is any? Yet, I struggle to make it through the "worthwhile" parts of my day - living for those times when I can create, whether art, music, words. And, if that is such a struggle for me and the other such a joy, where does that leave me in terms of worth? How can I truly be a useful, worthwhile sort of person when all I really want to do is be creative, when every scheme to make a little side money revolves not around a second (well, third... no, fourth) job but around music or art? Is it courage to keep slogging through my "worthwhile" tasks or cowardice... or both?
I simply don't know.
And,
because I don't,
I'll shut up
now.
Probably to your
eternal
gratitude.
Got taken to see the Goodspeed Opera House production of Camelot last Saturday and to dinner too! It was wonderful but sad - a dichotomy of an evening. The company I was in was superlative. Dinner was absolutely marvelous - mussels, clams, and shrimp over homemade wide noodle pasta with light bacon alfredo sauce. Absolutely spectacular. The production was, as Goodspeed productions typically are, excellent. Gorgeous sets, beautiful costuming, wonderful cast. It's, at its heart, though, a sad story. Lerner and Lowe did a wonderful job, as did the cast, of really portraying how heartbreaking the triangle is for each of the three. Love is a funny thing and catches us each in many ways. Humanity, also, at its heart, is a funny thing. The inevitable war that results from a king's attempt to maintain the civilized society they all so strived for is tragic.
The sense of dichotomy is heightened, for me, as the reason I got to go was that their traditional 4th for the dinner'n'show evening was direly ill and in the hospital and, indeed, 2 of my 3 hosts left at intermission to be with her. So, as thrilled as I was to be there, I couldn't help feeling somewhat guilty that my good fortune came only at the cost of another's misfortune.
~~~
I told my mother off two weekends ago. I just couldn't take constantly not being good enough. I find it very interesting that she told me it was all in my head and that no one else feels that way when I know, for a fact, that each of my siblings has had the same conversation with her.
My sister thinks my father is trying to eat himself to death. Of course, if I lived with my mother, I'd probably try too... or fall into the "candy's dandy but liquor's quicker" trap.
It's another dichotomy. She's my mother and I love her. I do my best to see her personal demons behind the vitriol and let things go. Still, one can't help but feel those barbs strike home.
~~~
Perhaps my life itself is simply a dichotomy. I don't feel like a boring person (to me) yet, when I examine what others must think... it's pretty obvious that I am. My mother termed me once, as I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before, her ornamental child. I am still torn as to whether it was said fondly or as a veiled slap.
Does it just come down to whether or not being ornamental does any good in the world? Maybe so. Do I, despite my protestations to the contrary, really believe underneath it that being the ornamental child is useless? Have I bought into the Puritan Work Ethic so sternly that I dismiss my own worth if indeed there is any? Yet, I struggle to make it through the "worthwhile" parts of my day - living for those times when I can create, whether art, music, words. And, if that is such a struggle for me and the other such a joy, where does that leave me in terms of worth? How can I truly be a useful, worthwhile sort of person when all I really want to do is be creative, when every scheme to make a little side money revolves not around a second (well, third... no, fourth) job but around music or art? Is it courage to keep slogging through my "worthwhile" tasks or cowardice... or both?
I simply don't know.
And,
because I don't,
I'll shut up
now.
Probably to your
eternal
gratitude.
Jun 16, 2009
A Rant About Gender and Pregnancy
First, some (much abbreviated) background, my apologies to those for whom this is a repeat.
I got married at 30. We started trying to have kids at 34, by 35 we were full into the ART (assisted reproductive therapy) swing. At 37, tired of all the hormones, tests, and procedures, we called it a day. At 38, we unexpectedly (very unexpectedly) had a baby girl. At 39, we lost a baby. At 40, we plunged back into the Clomid full force and, at 41, had another baby girl. Afterward, we decided that to just let fate do its thing. I wasn’t going back to hormones (either assistive or preventative), I wasn’t going to monitor for ovulation. After all, fertility has always been an issue for us and, of course, it declines as one gets older. Not to mention, with two kids under 3 and me working nights, how much, er, personal time do we get? As we now know, the Great Good Thing had different plans for us, of course.
Ok, on to today’s rant...
So, my boss calls this morning with some action items (I hate that term) from yesterday’s ExCom (I hate that term too - we’re not the military, for Pete’s sake) meeting. She wants me to make another presentation on why contracts and, more specifically, the language in our contracts is important and to go through our contract procedures with our PMs (project managers, not prime ministers though, of course, some of them think of themselves as the latter). They want me to make this presentation at one of the monthly staff meetings. Now, there’s really only one date that will work as July’s meeting is coming too quickly to put a presentation together on our currently shortened hours and still get the other work done and September is, well, occupied. So, August it is.
In the course of this discussion, she reveals that she’s told ExCom that we’re expecting. I have to say I’m a bit surprised. She was the one that wanted me to keep this quiet (because our COO was p-i-s-s-e-d that I got pregnant last time - that much was made very clear to me at the time: heaven forfend, I should put my personal life above the company) and, given that I work from home, it’s possible I might have kept it secret until well after the fact. (We don’t have maternity leave, per se, and, last time, I was working 10 hours a week within a week of getting home from the hospital.) But, ok, they know. And, she adds, “they’re all happy you’re expecting a boy.”
Ok, this I have a problem with. Like they wouldn’t be happy if it was a girl? Still, I’d think it was just a wording thing except that I’ve talked to several people for whom the only saving grace of this pregnancy is that the baby appears to be a boy.
The pregnancy was received poorly by many people until we/they found out the baby is a boy. From my parents to random acquaintances, people seem to think that we’re crazy/disobedient/inappropriately fecund to have a third but, oh, it’s ok because “John’s getting his boy”. So, WTF? How could our pregnancy possibly affect you? It’s not like my parents babysit or really have much to do with our children at all. It’s not like we’re imposing on friends to watch our kids or run errands, etc. We’re not on public support; we pay our taxes, Katie’s preschool tuition, and our bills. It’s not like I work fewer hours or ask for weird accommodations due to pregnancy... as I mentioned earlier, I was back in the saddle within a week, answering emails, and back at 10 hours a week the following week and back to my full 20 hours a week within 6 weeks. I took no unpaid time off. I took no paid time other than my normal sick leave and normal vacation time: time to which I would have been entitled whether or not I had a baby. So how could our pregnancy, the number of children we choose to have, possibly be any business of yours to judge?
Let me just say this publicly: we were thrilled about this pregnancy from the day we discovered it. We are happy it’s a boy; we would have been happy if it had been a girl - we just care that it’s healthy (which, thank God, he appears to be). Every child is a miracle, particularly when one has had such trouble conceiving... every child.
I guess I am grateful they don’t have to have the experience which leads them to understand how precious each chance to be a parent is. Fertility crap sucks - there’s only about 1 or 2 people in this world that I’d be tempted to wish that misery upon (and those people I wouldn’t want reproducing anyway so I suppose in the end I wouldn’t wish it upon them either).
But, I say again, WTF?!
I got married at 30. We started trying to have kids at 34, by 35 we were full into the ART (assisted reproductive therapy) swing. At 37, tired of all the hormones, tests, and procedures, we called it a day. At 38, we unexpectedly (very unexpectedly) had a baby girl. At 39, we lost a baby. At 40, we plunged back into the Clomid full force and, at 41, had another baby girl. Afterward, we decided that to just let fate do its thing. I wasn’t going back to hormones (either assistive or preventative), I wasn’t going to monitor for ovulation. After all, fertility has always been an issue for us and, of course, it declines as one gets older. Not to mention, with two kids under 3 and me working nights, how much, er, personal time do we get? As we now know, the Great Good Thing had different plans for us, of course.
Ok, on to today’s rant...
So, my boss calls this morning with some action items (I hate that term) from yesterday’s ExCom (I hate that term too - we’re not the military, for Pete’s sake) meeting. She wants me to make another presentation on why contracts and, more specifically, the language in our contracts is important and to go through our contract procedures with our PMs (project managers, not prime ministers though, of course, some of them think of themselves as the latter). They want me to make this presentation at one of the monthly staff meetings. Now, there’s really only one date that will work as July’s meeting is coming too quickly to put a presentation together on our currently shortened hours and still get the other work done and September is, well, occupied. So, August it is.
In the course of this discussion, she reveals that she’s told ExCom that we’re expecting. I have to say I’m a bit surprised. She was the one that wanted me to keep this quiet (because our COO was p-i-s-s-e-d that I got pregnant last time - that much was made very clear to me at the time: heaven forfend, I should put my personal life above the company) and, given that I work from home, it’s possible I might have kept it secret until well after the fact. (We don’t have maternity leave, per se, and, last time, I was working 10 hours a week within a week of getting home from the hospital.) But, ok, they know. And, she adds, “they’re all happy you’re expecting a boy.”
Ok, this I have a problem with. Like they wouldn’t be happy if it was a girl? Still, I’d think it was just a wording thing except that I’ve talked to several people for whom the only saving grace of this pregnancy is that the baby appears to be a boy.
The pregnancy was received poorly by many people until we/they found out the baby is a boy. From my parents to random acquaintances, people seem to think that we’re crazy/disobedient/inappropriately fecund to have a third but, oh, it’s ok because “John’s getting his boy”. So, WTF? How could our pregnancy possibly affect you? It’s not like my parents babysit or really have much to do with our children at all. It’s not like we’re imposing on friends to watch our kids or run errands, etc. We’re not on public support; we pay our taxes, Katie’s preschool tuition, and our bills. It’s not like I work fewer hours or ask for weird accommodations due to pregnancy... as I mentioned earlier, I was back in the saddle within a week, answering emails, and back at 10 hours a week the following week and back to my full 20 hours a week within 6 weeks. I took no unpaid time off. I took no paid time other than my normal sick leave and normal vacation time: time to which I would have been entitled whether or not I had a baby. So how could our pregnancy, the number of children we choose to have, possibly be any business of yours to judge?
Let me just say this publicly: we were thrilled about this pregnancy from the day we discovered it. We are happy it’s a boy; we would have been happy if it had been a girl - we just care that it’s healthy (which, thank God, he appears to be). Every child is a miracle, particularly when one has had such trouble conceiving... every child.
I guess I am grateful they don’t have to have the experience which leads them to understand how precious each chance to be a parent is. Fertility crap sucks - there’s only about 1 or 2 people in this world that I’d be tempted to wish that misery upon (and those people I wouldn’t want reproducing anyway so I suppose in the end I wouldn’t wish it upon them either).
But, I say again, WTF?!
May 13, 2009
Today
All went well, thank goodness, though I suspect Evie's enmity toward Dr. Valdez may be of the enduring variety. The nurse told me they do 50 ear tube surgeries a week - a week!! It was quick and the hardest part (for me) was restraining her little hands as she tried to pull the anesthesia mask off. But then she went to sleep and I trotted my tearful person out to the bathroom and it was over almost before I got back.
I really don't know how parents whose children have to have "real" surgery take it. LJ, my hat's off to you!!
So, there's a family waiting room where you're supposed to wait. And the waiting room has a monitor who checks you in. And the monitor has all the warm fuzzy demeanor of a middle school gym teacher. I swear, it felt more like detention than a place for anxious parents! (Though I don't suppose detention offers coffee and tea...) It just struck me kind of funny. Everyone else was so nice and friendly, including the nurses in recovery who have to listen to wailing children all day, and the waiting room monitor was as dour as a Scotsman who's had his golf clubs and whiskey taken away!
In other news... the concert tonight went well and I didn't make a fool of myself either in my aria or in the choral bits, fortunately. Always a good thing.
And for those who are curious, the new baby is a boy!
I really don't know how parents whose children have to have "real" surgery take it. LJ, my hat's off to you!!
So, there's a family waiting room where you're supposed to wait. And the waiting room has a monitor who checks you in. And the monitor has all the warm fuzzy demeanor of a middle school gym teacher. I swear, it felt more like detention than a place for anxious parents! (Though I don't suppose detention offers coffee and tea...) It just struck me kind of funny. Everyone else was so nice and friendly, including the nurses in recovery who have to listen to wailing children all day, and the waiting room monitor was as dour as a Scotsman who's had his golf clubs and whiskey taken away!
In other news... the concert tonight went well and I didn't make a fool of myself either in my aria or in the choral bits, fortunately. Always a good thing.
And for those who are curious, the new baby is a boy!
May 12, 2009
Tomorrow
Tomorrow, tomorrow, we'll start the day tomorrow
with a wail or two...
Well, it's scheduled. Little Miss Evie is having tubes put in her ears tomorrow morning. Now, as surgeries go, this is incredibly minor - the surgery itself takes only 10 minutes though she does get put out for it. BUT I have to take a year old baby to the hospital by myself, a baby that hasn't eaten or drunk in more than 12 hours, and that, I expect, will be the hard (and loud) part.
That and watching my baby get put under...
Still, hopefully this will resolve her hearing loss. We'll be seeing the audiologist again in a month to check back on that.
In other news, the *new* baby appears to be baking away quite nicely, my BP is remaining stable, and I'm not loading on the weight. Joined a gym and have made it a goal to swim twice a week for 1/2 hour. I know it's not all that much but it's what I can manage so I just try to keep my heartrate up for the whole time and enjoy the heck out of having a shower all by myself at the end.
Tomorrow's a busy day in a lot of ways. Anyone in Central CT is cordially invited to join us tomorrow evening for a concert of Mendelssohn works at Center Church at 7:30 p.m. I'll be doing "O Rest in the Lord"; it's low for me but the space isn't cavernous and the accompaniment is piano so hopefully it will go well.
Honestly though, I can't think that far ahead. Right now, I'm just focused on getting Katie to the sitter tomorrow before 9 so Evie and I can be to the hospital at 9:30. If you hear persistent wailing about that time, you'll know from whence it cometh.
with a wail or two...
Well, it's scheduled. Little Miss Evie is having tubes put in her ears tomorrow morning. Now, as surgeries go, this is incredibly minor - the surgery itself takes only 10 minutes though she does get put out for it. BUT I have to take a year old baby to the hospital by myself, a baby that hasn't eaten or drunk in more than 12 hours, and that, I expect, will be the hard (and loud) part.
That and watching my baby get put under...
Still, hopefully this will resolve her hearing loss. We'll be seeing the audiologist again in a month to check back on that.
In other news, the *new* baby appears to be baking away quite nicely, my BP is remaining stable, and I'm not loading on the weight. Joined a gym and have made it a goal to swim twice a week for 1/2 hour. I know it's not all that much but it's what I can manage so I just try to keep my heartrate up for the whole time and enjoy the heck out of having a shower all by myself at the end.
Tomorrow's a busy day in a lot of ways. Anyone in Central CT is cordially invited to join us tomorrow evening for a concert of Mendelssohn works at Center Church at 7:30 p.m. I'll be doing "O Rest in the Lord"; it's low for me but the space isn't cavernous and the accompaniment is piano so hopefully it will go well.
Honestly though, I can't think that far ahead. Right now, I'm just focused on getting Katie to the sitter tomorrow before 9 so Evie and I can be to the hospital at 9:30. If you hear persistent wailing about that time, you'll know from whence it cometh.
Apr 25, 2009
Quae Morebat - another attempt
Ok, let's try it this way.
Sigh, you know - for a reasonably tech-savvy person, this is a pain in the ass!!
quae morebat mp3.mp3
Apr 24, 2009
Quae Morebat
From the Stabat Mater for those who are morbidly curious as to how I sing - click on the post title to play the file.
Concert was SRO and the offering covered the costs. We were thrilled. The choir did wonderfully; the strings were excellent.
The Quae Morebat is first. That's the aria I did.
The soprano (I sang the alto) in the Quis Est Homo is Kim Young - who is wonderful!! I'm privileged to be able to sing with her. We're joined in the allegro by Beverly Boyle and Suzanne Fournier, also great fun to sing with.
Ok, hopefully this will work!!
Concert was SRO and the offering covered the costs. We were thrilled. The choir did wonderfully; the strings were excellent.
The Quae Morebat is first. That's the aria I did.
The soprano (I sang the alto) in the Quis Est Homo is Kim Young - who is wonderful!! I'm privileged to be able to sing with her. We're joined in the allegro by Beverly Boyle and Suzanne Fournier, also great fun to sing with.
Ok, hopefully this will work!!
Apr 19, 2009
The Tale of a Tail
Or how I lost 13" in twenty minutes.
I'd been growing my hair since Katie was born 3 1/2 years ago - not out of any grand scheme on my part, just lack of time and money, really.
It had been getting to be quite a pain though pretty when it wanted to be but got in my way unless I put it up.
So my sister was here and easily co-opted. And we wound up with a 13" ponytail being separated from my head. I swear the thing looked like it could sprout legs and walk away on its own it was so long.
Fortunately, such a critter doesn't go to waste even if it once went to waist! (Heh, I crack myself up... ;) )
And now we're back to short. How long will this last? Um...
I'd been growing my hair since Katie was born 3 1/2 years ago - not out of any grand scheme on my part, just lack of time and money, really.
It had been getting to be quite a pain though pretty when it wanted to be but got in my way unless I put it up.
So my sister was here and easily co-opted. And we wound up with a 13" ponytail being separated from my head. I swear the thing looked like it could sprout legs and walk away on its own it was so long.
Fortunately, such a critter doesn't go to waste even if it once went to waist! (Heh, I crack myself up... ;) )
And now we're back to short. How long will this last? Um...
Apr 13, 2009
For All of Us Who Have Dreamed a Dream
You go, Susan Boyle - Here's hoping you take it all the way for all of us who are a little older, a little heavier, but still dare to dream a dream.
Susan Boyle
Susan Boyle
Apr 12, 2009
You Know You're a Geek When...
You're playing Scrabble and you start to think "Fron! Ok, cool, now where can I put it?" then realize that fron is only a word in Ancient from Stargate: SG-1. And you're even more of a geek when your first thought after that is that the reason you can't play it is that it's a foreign language, not that it's a made up word.
Hail, thee festival day!
Last Tuesday, as we were rehearsing for Friday's concert, a man came into the church. Nobody thought much of it at first: when the church is open, a lot of homeless people use the bathroom. But, then, he wandered down the aisle, looking for something or someone. As the director was busy with the strings, our soprano section leader headed him off. He handed her a card with some writing on it and she drew him to the back of the church, talking to him as they went.
She took him to the door and next door to the Center for Urban Ministry and returned to her place. I asked if he needed a priest. She said he needed a lot more than that but that's what he was looking for.
His face was so sad, so desperate that I haven't been able to forget him and I've worried a lot this week about this man I never met but only saw - like I worry about a lot of the people I read about in RD's blog.
I very much hope that, on this anniversary of the Lord's resurrection, he finds what he needs.
Happy Easter, sir. May you find hope and peace and, yes, some joy as we celebrate the great Alleluia.
She took him to the door and next door to the Center for Urban Ministry and returned to her place. I asked if he needed a priest. She said he needed a lot more than that but that's what he was looking for.
His face was so sad, so desperate that I haven't been able to forget him and I've worried a lot this week about this man I never met but only saw - like I worry about a lot of the people I read about in RD's blog.
I very much hope that, on this anniversary of the Lord's resurrection, he finds what he needs.
Happy Easter, sir. May you find hope and peace and, yes, some joy as we celebrate the great Alleluia.
Mar 31, 2009
Don't Get Around Much Anymore
Missed the Saturday dance
It's been a little crazy here. We got John's dad buried then John went to Miami. Then I went to NY to do a jewelry show. Now we're heading into Holy Week with loads of rehearsals this week and next. I'm still sick. It's been, what, 7 weeks now? 8? But, hey, I'm out of the first trimester as of last Saturday at least, even if I can't breathe.
Heard they crowded the floor
So, I was told a week ago Sunday that my hours at work are being cut 25%. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to still have a job but I'm just not exactly sure how the mortgage is going to get paid without that $500. And what kind of galls me is that the leadership isn't cutting their hours, nosirrreebob. I did the bills today (and isn't that always a party and a half; I can't even drink afterward these days!). The medical bills from the pregnancy are starting to come in. $600 this month. In order to pay on the plastic, I had to pay one of the medical bills with plastic. How seriously fucked up is that?* But, hey, that puts us $600 more toward the $2500 deductible after which all is covered.
(*Just so that everyone knows, the bulk of our credit card debt is from a surprise $7700 tax bill and subsequent doubling of our estimated quarterly taxes (basically, we had $12,000 due to the IRS within 2 weeks of finding out about it) and not from big screen TVs, unnecessary clothes, or fancy cars - I am pleased to report that both cars are paid for, not so pleased to report that our 24" TV (the only TV in the house) is starting to develop a weird line in the middle, and distinctly embarrassed that I've had to stop wearing my tennis shoes out because they're just too holey. We had a nice cushion - that proverbial 3 months all the planners talk about - when he went into his own practice but, funny, how quickly that gets eroded when your income gets cut in half.)
So he's been pushing me to donate more to charity. I'm not exactly sure where he thinks it's going to come from. I had to lay it on the line for him today. I don't like having to do it. He internalizes it and beats on himself for not "providing" better. In fact, I absolutely hate having to do it. He gets depressed about the credit card debt and I always feel like he's blaming me (though I am no more a spendthrift than he is!) simply because I'm telling him what he doesn't want to hear. It's frustrating because I feel like I can't talk to him about it yet I can't talk to anyone else about it either because that upsets him too.
Couldn't bear it without you
Life isn't all bad though - my sister, God bless her, hosted a jewelry party - the proceeds of which should pay much of my jewelry business's expenses for the year. She also, bless her double and her children too!, cut my hair (with her son's round nosed school scissors, even) into a cute little 'do that is a vast improvement over the "D.W. haircut" I sported until she got at me.
I'm looking forward to Holy Week and the Stabat Mater in particular. I really wish I could find a way to record at least my aria. I'd love to hear it - you can never hear yourself properly when you sing.
John's mom appears to be holding up well. She's been moved into a smaller assisted living apartment where, provided the stock market doesn't fall too much further, she should be able to stay without a problem. I was going to call her to come visit tomorrow but Katie threw up tonight so I'm not sure I ought to be exposing an elderly woman to that.
Don't get around much anymore...
Thanks for listening.
It's been a little crazy here. We got John's dad buried then John went to Miami. Then I went to NY to do a jewelry show. Now we're heading into Holy Week with loads of rehearsals this week and next. I'm still sick. It's been, what, 7 weeks now? 8? But, hey, I'm out of the first trimester as of last Saturday at least, even if I can't breathe.
Heard they crowded the floor
So, I was told a week ago Sunday that my hours at work are being cut 25%. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to still have a job but I'm just not exactly sure how the mortgage is going to get paid without that $500. And what kind of galls me is that the leadership isn't cutting their hours, nosirrreebob. I did the bills today (and isn't that always a party and a half; I can't even drink afterward these days!). The medical bills from the pregnancy are starting to come in. $600 this month. In order to pay on the plastic, I had to pay one of the medical bills with plastic. How seriously fucked up is that?* But, hey, that puts us $600 more toward the $2500 deductible after which all is covered.
(*Just so that everyone knows, the bulk of our credit card debt is from a surprise $7700 tax bill and subsequent doubling of our estimated quarterly taxes (basically, we had $12,000 due to the IRS within 2 weeks of finding out about it) and not from big screen TVs, unnecessary clothes, or fancy cars - I am pleased to report that both cars are paid for, not so pleased to report that our 24" TV (the only TV in the house) is starting to develop a weird line in the middle, and distinctly embarrassed that I've had to stop wearing my tennis shoes out because they're just too holey. We had a nice cushion - that proverbial 3 months all the planners talk about - when he went into his own practice but, funny, how quickly that gets eroded when your income gets cut in half.)
So he's been pushing me to donate more to charity. I'm not exactly sure where he thinks it's going to come from. I had to lay it on the line for him today. I don't like having to do it. He internalizes it and beats on himself for not "providing" better. In fact, I absolutely hate having to do it. He gets depressed about the credit card debt and I always feel like he's blaming me (though I am no more a spendthrift than he is!) simply because I'm telling him what he doesn't want to hear. It's frustrating because I feel like I can't talk to him about it yet I can't talk to anyone else about it either because that upsets him too.
Couldn't bear it without you
Life isn't all bad though - my sister, God bless her, hosted a jewelry party - the proceeds of which should pay much of my jewelry business's expenses for the year. She also, bless her double and her children too!, cut my hair (with her son's round nosed school scissors, even) into a cute little 'do that is a vast improvement over the "D.W. haircut" I sported until she got at me.
I'm looking forward to Holy Week and the Stabat Mater in particular. I really wish I could find a way to record at least my aria. I'd love to hear it - you can never hear yourself properly when you sing.
John's mom appears to be holding up well. She's been moved into a smaller assisted living apartment where, provided the stock market doesn't fall too much further, she should be able to stay without a problem. I was going to call her to come visit tomorrow but Katie threw up tonight so I'm not sure I ought to be exposing an elderly woman to that.
Don't get around much anymore...
Thanks for listening.
Mar 14, 2009
"But, Mommy, I HAVE to Talk!"
Ok, I love my kids. I really do. But my 3 year old is a morning person and, worse, an extrovert. She's not a true morning person - i.e., she's not one of these kids who's up and demanding attention at 5:30 a.m. - but once she's awake, look out. The mouth starts running and doesn't stop. Ever seen that "Help I'm talking and I can't shut up!" t-shirt? That's my 3 year old.
In contrast, when I worked at the law firm, I got up at 5:45 every morning and got all corporated-up, read the paper, and drove the 30 miles to Springfield, getting there about 8:30 (work started at 9). My boss knew not to talk to me unless absolutely necessary before 10. Oh, he made plenty fun of me - he being a true morning person - but if he wanted a well-thought out and rational response, he knew to wait until a couple of cups of caffeine hit the bloodstream. That's the kind of night person I am.
Now, I know (man, do I know) that being a morning person and being an extrovert will be very helpful to her through the years. In fact, I'd venture to say that being an extrovert will take someone farther than natural intelligence. It is, however, a volatile combination in the mornings - the introverted, night person parent vs. the extroverted, perky morning person 3 year old.
Even if you take morning out of the mix, it is difficult to parent a child who is the opposite temperment. I suspect it may be even harder for extroverted parents with introverted children but, yowee kazowee, this introverted parent sure struggles with her extroverted child. I worry that I'm dampening her natural high spirits by asking her to "Just. Stop. Talking!" (to which she once answered "but, Mommy, I have to talk!") or that I'm not meeting her socialization needs adequately. I worry that, given my prediliction for inner (vs. outer) conversation, I can't accurately judge what is an appropriately average amount of spoken conversation. I remind myself that my job is to be her mother, not her playmate, and at 3 1/2 she's old enough to be expected to entertain herself a good chunk of time. Even though I haul her to music, dance, preschool, and occasional playdates - all of which involve a fair-to-excellent amount of socializing with her peers, I worry.
I had really hoped that once her sister was old enough to interact with her, she would lighten up on her need to be "entertained" by me. It is starting to work a little that way - but there's still the jealousy that gets in the way. We still hear a lot of "She smiled at me!" (this is a grave affront in my 3 year old's world) and "Evie's scaring me!" (when the baby is merely attempting to "talk" to her). It absolutely infuriates me that she can't see her sister wants to be her friend - both for Evie's sake and my own.
I have not gone all Bunny Foo Foo (or, Jade, is that Bunny Fu Fu? ;-) ) on her head. But, man, sometimes I sure want to!
In contrast, when I worked at the law firm, I got up at 5:45 every morning and got all corporated-up, read the paper, and drove the 30 miles to Springfield, getting there about 8:30 (work started at 9). My boss knew not to talk to me unless absolutely necessary before 10. Oh, he made plenty fun of me - he being a true morning person - but if he wanted a well-thought out and rational response, he knew to wait until a couple of cups of caffeine hit the bloodstream. That's the kind of night person I am.
Now, I know (man, do I know) that being a morning person and being an extrovert will be very helpful to her through the years. In fact, I'd venture to say that being an extrovert will take someone farther than natural intelligence. It is, however, a volatile combination in the mornings - the introverted, night person parent vs. the extroverted, perky morning person 3 year old.
Even if you take morning out of the mix, it is difficult to parent a child who is the opposite temperment. I suspect it may be even harder for extroverted parents with introverted children but, yowee kazowee, this introverted parent sure struggles with her extroverted child. I worry that I'm dampening her natural high spirits by asking her to "Just. Stop. Talking!" (to which she once answered "but, Mommy, I have to talk!") or that I'm not meeting her socialization needs adequately. I worry that, given my prediliction for inner (vs. outer) conversation, I can't accurately judge what is an appropriately average amount of spoken conversation. I remind myself that my job is to be her mother, not her playmate, and at 3 1/2 she's old enough to be expected to entertain herself a good chunk of time. Even though I haul her to music, dance, preschool, and occasional playdates - all of which involve a fair-to-excellent amount of socializing with her peers, I worry.
I had really hoped that once her sister was old enough to interact with her, she would lighten up on her need to be "entertained" by me. It is starting to work a little that way - but there's still the jealousy that gets in the way. We still hear a lot of "She smiled at me!" (this is a grave affront in my 3 year old's world) and "Evie's scaring me!" (when the baby is merely attempting to "talk" to her). It absolutely infuriates me that she can't see her sister wants to be her friend - both for Evie's sake and my own.
I have not gone all Bunny Foo Foo (or, Jade, is that Bunny Fu Fu? ;-) ) on her head. But, man, sometimes I sure want to!
Mar 4, 2009
Toora Loora Loora
Toora loora lie
Toora loora loora
Hush now, don't you cry.
My father-in-law passed away last Saturday night. He'll be waked Friday evening and buried Saturday morning. He was a good, fair, and honorable man. He was a funny man. He always had a smile for me, even when he could no longer speak really. He was career military and very proud of his Irish heritage. Rest in peace, Bill; we'll miss you so very much.
http://www.legacy.com/HartfordCourant/DeathNotices.asp?Page=LifeStory&PersonID=124870628
Ah, toora loora loora
Toora loora lie
Toora loora loora
It's an Irish lullaby.
Toora loora loora
Hush now, don't you cry.
My father-in-law passed away last Saturday night. He'll be waked Friday evening and buried Saturday morning. He was a good, fair, and honorable man. He was a funny man. He always had a smile for me, even when he could no longer speak really. He was career military and very proud of his Irish heritage. Rest in peace, Bill; we'll miss you so very much.
http://www.legacy.com/HartfordCourant/DeathNotices.asp?Page=LifeStory&PersonID=124870628
Ah, toora loora loora
Toora loora lie
Toora loora loora
It's an Irish lullaby.
Feb 24, 2009
Audition Avoided
But positive results anyway!! The women's choir I sing with is doing the entire Pergolesi Stabat Mater for Good Friday and I got picked to do one of the alto arias (Quae morebat et tremebat) and one of the duets (Quis est homo) - YAY!! The really neat part is that we're actually doing it with strings and not with just the organ. How freakin' cool is that??!!
Feb 19, 2009
The Most Useful Onion
Ok, so 3 people recently have mentioned Greek yogurt to me - how it was really high in protein (20 grams per cup) and didn't have the mouth feel of regular yogurt (shudder). Eventually I do usually figure out when fate's trying to bonk me over the head so I bought some. Ok, more accurately? I shamelessly batted my eyebrows at my husband who bought some.
Ok, I couldn't eat this stuff just out of the tub but neither could I eat sour cream just out of the tub. That said, this stuff is pretty darn useful. We got the fat free version - and, basically, it tastes and "feels" like sour cream and not like yogurt. Ok, so this is a plus but what to do with it? Add an enormous onion and make dip.
500 g tub of fat free Greek yogurt
1 large sweet onion - diced rather more finely than I did and sauteed in as little olive oil as necessary to keep it from sticking.
1/2 tsp onion powder
1/2 tsp salt
Mix it all together. Voila - a fake French onion dip that's much lower in fat, has a bunch of potassium and Vitamin C (thanks to the onion), and a ton of protein. Whee!!
And, yes, I was good - I ate it with lowfat crackers instead of with the Fritos Scoops I really wanted... ;)
Ok, I couldn't eat this stuff just out of the tub but neither could I eat sour cream just out of the tub. That said, this stuff is pretty darn useful. We got the fat free version - and, basically, it tastes and "feels" like sour cream and not like yogurt. Ok, so this is a plus but what to do with it? Add an enormous onion and make dip.
500 g tub of fat free Greek yogurt
1 large sweet onion - diced rather more finely than I did and sauteed in as little olive oil as necessary to keep it from sticking.
1/2 tsp onion powder
1/2 tsp salt
Mix it all together. Voila - a fake French onion dip that's much lower in fat, has a bunch of potassium and Vitamin C (thanks to the onion), and a ton of protein. Whee!!
And, yes, I was good - I ate it with lowfat crackers instead of with the Fritos Scoops I really wanted... ;)
Feb 16, 2009
On feeling simultaneously young and very old indeed
Thank you all for your good wishes and for not asking if I'm crazy!
So, as those of you who are mathematically inclined could easily determine from my birthdate on my ultrasound, I'm 41. I'll be 42 in April. I'm old. Ok, I'm not really old in the general way of things (and certainly not behaviorally!) but, in terms of being pregnant, I'm old. And being AMA (advanced maternal age) engenders (heh, pun fully intended) a host of things - one of which involves extra progesterone. For those of you who don't remember (or who never knew), progesterone is responsible for many of the lovely side effects of early pregnancy, including exhaustion and nausea. So, yeah, this pregnancy is so kicking my ass. I could probably be in bed all day and still be wiped out. Unfortunately, I can't *be* in bed all day (more's the pity that!!) as I've the rugrats to chase. And the lovely low-level nausea that dogs me much of the day (until just about 4 pm) does nothing for my mood either.
Now, in my last pregnancy, I took the symptoms as a good sign - things were progressing as they ought. What with this extra progesterone coursing through my system, God only knows whether this is a good sign or just a sign of well-meant medical intervention. Sigh.
At any rate, yeah, I'm old. I'm already easily the oldest mom at any playgroup though, luckily, I don't look it (thanks be for small mercies). My mother and many of my friends think I'm stark raving mad to do this again. Truth is, we never expected it to happen. We weren't trying but neither were we trying not to. We had such trouble getting pregnant for our whole reproductive history that who would think that at our age I'd get pregnant the normal way. I mean - go figure!! That does not mean, however, that we aren't thrilled. I'm ecstatic, actually (well, except when queasy - queasy tending to interfere with any feeling other than being queasy), and am really looking forward to one last baby.
There is something about the kids that keeps you at least a little young. My 3 year old makes me off the wall nuts mad but her joie de vivre, her flamboyant boisterousness is contagious. The baby, now 10 months old, is so curious and frighteningly physically adept (she not only unplugs the night lights, she takes the shield off and unscrews the bulb). How could anyone feel old when they spend a good part of the day watching her little boomba scuttle across the floor chasing the cat?
That being said, I'll probably call it permanently quits if this baby makes it. The risks for miscarriage, etc. get higher the older you get and I really, really don't want to go through that again. Also, I've spent the predominant amount of the last 7 years either pregnant or trying to get pregnant. That's a goodly amount of time worrying about one's onboard roommate.
Actually, I'll probably call it quits if this baby doesn't make it as well. You move on as best you can, try to distance yourself from that pain, that aching need to hold the child you never can, bringing it only out occasionally to feel anew that burning anguish. But it never goes away. It's always there, tucked neatly away, hidden lest it offend or make someone uncomfortable, ready to come out of its own volition, wreaking agonizing misery, arms stretching for a child that will never fill them, voice whispering, barely audible, pleading with the fates for the impossible, and tears that will not be quenched. No, I don't want another child's death on my soul.
The Baby That Wasn't (No. 2) would be 20 months old now (it's been 2 years, 3 months, and 4 days since s/he left us) and, of course, Evie probably wouldn't be with us - it's such a mixed feeling. So, old, young... either way, fingers crossed and prayers said for baby #4 to join us happy and healthy in September.
So, as those of you who are mathematically inclined could easily determine from my birthdate on my ultrasound, I'm 41. I'll be 42 in April. I'm old. Ok, I'm not really old in the general way of things (and certainly not behaviorally!) but, in terms of being pregnant, I'm old. And being AMA (advanced maternal age) engenders (heh, pun fully intended) a host of things - one of which involves extra progesterone. For those of you who don't remember (or who never knew), progesterone is responsible for many of the lovely side effects of early pregnancy, including exhaustion and nausea. So, yeah, this pregnancy is so kicking my ass. I could probably be in bed all day and still be wiped out. Unfortunately, I can't *be* in bed all day (more's the pity that!!) as I've the rugrats to chase. And the lovely low-level nausea that dogs me much of the day (until just about 4 pm) does nothing for my mood either.
Now, in my last pregnancy, I took the symptoms as a good sign - things were progressing as they ought. What with this extra progesterone coursing through my system, God only knows whether this is a good sign or just a sign of well-meant medical intervention. Sigh.
At any rate, yeah, I'm old. I'm already easily the oldest mom at any playgroup though, luckily, I don't look it (thanks be for small mercies). My mother and many of my friends think I'm stark raving mad to do this again. Truth is, we never expected it to happen. We weren't trying but neither were we trying not to. We had such trouble getting pregnant for our whole reproductive history that who would think that at our age I'd get pregnant the normal way. I mean - go figure!! That does not mean, however, that we aren't thrilled. I'm ecstatic, actually (well, except when queasy - queasy tending to interfere with any feeling other than being queasy), and am really looking forward to one last baby.
There is something about the kids that keeps you at least a little young. My 3 year old makes me off the wall nuts mad but her joie de vivre, her flamboyant boisterousness is contagious. The baby, now 10 months old, is so curious and frighteningly physically adept (she not only unplugs the night lights, she takes the shield off and unscrews the bulb). How could anyone feel old when they spend a good part of the day watching her little boomba scuttle across the floor chasing the cat?
That being said, I'll probably call it permanently quits if this baby makes it. The risks for miscarriage, etc. get higher the older you get and I really, really don't want to go through that again. Also, I've spent the predominant amount of the last 7 years either pregnant or trying to get pregnant. That's a goodly amount of time worrying about one's onboard roommate.
Actually, I'll probably call it quits if this baby doesn't make it as well. You move on as best you can, try to distance yourself from that pain, that aching need to hold the child you never can, bringing it only out occasionally to feel anew that burning anguish. But it never goes away. It's always there, tucked neatly away, hidden lest it offend or make someone uncomfortable, ready to come out of its own volition, wreaking agonizing misery, arms stretching for a child that will never fill them, voice whispering, barely audible, pleading with the fates for the impossible, and tears that will not be quenched. No, I don't want another child's death on my soul.
The Baby That Wasn't (No. 2) would be 20 months old now (it's been 2 years, 3 months, and 4 days since s/he left us) and, of course, Evie probably wouldn't be with us - it's such a mixed feeling. So, old, young... either way, fingers crossed and prayers said for baby #4 to join us happy and healthy in September.
Feb 11, 2009
Oh Baby
The little bean is measuring right on target at 7 weeks 4 days, giving us an estimated due date of 9/26/09. The heartbeat was fluttering away - no trouble seeing it! I'll be going back every 2 weeks through the first trimester.Feeling rather relieved here as the last time we conceived after having a baby, we lost the baby; though it wasn't until several weeks after the initial ultrasound, the baby measured really small at the u/s then and the heartbeat was hard to find - so measuring right on target and a lovely flutter was a big relief.
Feb 1, 2009
Facebook Foibles
Anyone else feel a certain amount of pressure to put something pithy in their Facebook status line?
It's odd how difficult I find it sometimes - how to find something relatively light and fluffy, that won't scare people, or offend people.
Kelley is fucking sick and tired of always being cold and wearing 18 layers and polarfleece wristies in the house and really wants to go to someplace warm where she can drink without responsibilities. (NOT ok.)
Kelley is freezing her ass off. (ok)
Kelley is a fucking idiot that can't seem to manage to remember whether she means piton or crampon and is too damn lazy to look it up. (NOT ok.)
Kelley has mommy brain. (ok)
Kelley needs about $1000 worth of $200 problems fixed on her car but can't possibly afford it *and* pay her daughter's preschool tuition. (NOT ok.)
Kelley desperately needs new back tires. (ok)
Kelley is pissed off for a stupid reason, feels beaten on by life even though vast numbers of people have it far worse than she does, worries that she's never going to have time to do anything but mother and work, and is lonely. (NOT ok.)
Kelley is grumpy that her favorite wings place isn't taking any orders tonight. Stupid football game!! (ok)
See? It can be done but it's difficult at best sometimes.
On another note, I find it very interesting, now that I've got the whole paid church musician thing going on, how different sermons given by two different priests on the same Gospel can be. And I'd planned to discuss the differences in today's sermons here (it was the Gospel of Mark, the bit about Jesus casting out the unclean spirit within the man in the temple) but I'm pretty sure I can't remember them enough. The second one had to deal with how the unclean spirit was the only one who recognized the divinity of Jesus and then delved into how the Gospels mention the healing power of Jesus 30-some-odd times but that 14 of those times are within the Gospel of Mark - the shortest of all the Gospels and the only one to begin with Jesus already being grown. No doubt, Fr. Tom would be very disappointed that I can't remember his homily but I hope he'll cut me some slack, it was the 8 a.m. Mass and, even though I'd been up since 6, I really wasn't very awake.) It is ironic, however, as the second one is the one I almost fell asleep during.
Kelley is exhausted, barely awake enough to sing, slightly low blood sugary, and freaked out about getting to her second gig on time. (NOT ok.)
Kelley finds that two sermons is one too many. (ok)
It's odd how difficult I find it sometimes - how to find something relatively light and fluffy, that won't scare people, or offend people.
Kelley is fucking sick and tired of always being cold and wearing 18 layers and polarfleece wristies in the house and really wants to go to someplace warm where she can drink without responsibilities. (NOT ok.)
Kelley is freezing her ass off. (ok)
Kelley is a fucking idiot that can't seem to manage to remember whether she means piton or crampon and is too damn lazy to look it up. (NOT ok.)
Kelley has mommy brain. (ok)
Kelley needs about $1000 worth of $200 problems fixed on her car but can't possibly afford it *and* pay her daughter's preschool tuition. (NOT ok.)
Kelley desperately needs new back tires. (ok)
Kelley is pissed off for a stupid reason, feels beaten on by life even though vast numbers of people have it far worse than she does, worries that she's never going to have time to do anything but mother and work, and is lonely. (NOT ok.)
Kelley is grumpy that her favorite wings place isn't taking any orders tonight. Stupid football game!! (ok)
See? It can be done but it's difficult at best sometimes.
On another note, I find it very interesting, now that I've got the whole paid church musician thing going on, how different sermons given by two different priests on the same Gospel can be. And I'd planned to discuss the differences in today's sermons here (it was the Gospel of Mark, the bit about Jesus casting out the unclean spirit within the man in the temple) but I'm pretty sure I can't remember them enough. The second one had to deal with how the unclean spirit was the only one who recognized the divinity of Jesus and then delved into how the Gospels mention the healing power of Jesus 30-some-odd times but that 14 of those times are within the Gospel of Mark - the shortest of all the Gospels and the only one to begin with Jesus already being grown. No doubt, Fr. Tom would be very disappointed that I can't remember his homily but I hope he'll cut me some slack, it was the 8 a.m. Mass and, even though I'd been up since 6, I really wasn't very awake.) It is ironic, however, as the second one is the one I almost fell asleep during.
Kelley is exhausted, barely awake enough to sing, slightly low blood sugary, and freaked out about getting to her second gig on time. (NOT ok.)
Kelley finds that two sermons is one too many. (ok)
Jan 14, 2009
Jan 12, 2009
Taking A Stand
Ok, let me say from the start that I know this is going to offend some people. I hope they'll forgive me for disagreeing with them and, for what it's worth, I forgive them for disagreeing with me. It is, however, my blog and, honestly, I'm at a point in my life where I think I need to move from thoughts to words. Maybe, in another 41.5 years, I'll actually get from words to actions.
These pictures moved me to tears:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/couragecampaign/sets/72157611501972510/
I grew up in a conservative household in a very conservative area. I'm Christian. I'm straight. None of which changes how brutally unfair it is that the decades-long partnerships of some of my friends can't be truly recognized by the law.
Equal doesn't have exceptions, else it would not be equal.
There are some that will say I can't be Christian and support "gay marriage". Well, there are those that dismissed Christ as being unGodly because he consorted with tax collectors and prostitutes and, heaven forfend!, treated women as people. The new testament God, through Christ, is about inclusiveness - God is love. We are of God, we are of love. And those that love should be allowed to marry and stay married.
No marriage threatens another simply by its existence. The only thing that threatens a marriage is its own partners (and, for some, unequal treatment under the law).
If you want my honest opinion, which if you've read this far, you're probably sickly fascinated by my drivel, I think civil union and religious marriage are two separate things. I happen to have both - a civil union sealed by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and a religious commitment sealed by the Diocese of Springfield.
Don't we have enough undercommitted couples in the US? Do we really need to force some to remain undercommitted by law?
Just my humble opinion, of course.
P.S. Want to sign the pledge to repeal CA Prop 8? I did. Here's a link for that.
These pictures moved me to tears:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/couragecampaign/sets/72157611501972510/
I grew up in a conservative household in a very conservative area. I'm Christian. I'm straight. None of which changes how brutally unfair it is that the decades-long partnerships of some of my friends can't be truly recognized by the law.
Equal doesn't have exceptions, else it would not be equal.
There are some that will say I can't be Christian and support "gay marriage". Well, there are those that dismissed Christ as being unGodly because he consorted with tax collectors and prostitutes and, heaven forfend!, treated women as people. The new testament God, through Christ, is about inclusiveness - God is love. We are of God, we are of love. And those that love should be allowed to marry and stay married.
No marriage threatens another simply by its existence. The only thing that threatens a marriage is its own partners (and, for some, unequal treatment under the law).
If you want my honest opinion, which if you've read this far, you're probably sickly fascinated by my drivel, I think civil union and religious marriage are two separate things. I happen to have both - a civil union sealed by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and a religious commitment sealed by the Diocese of Springfield.
Don't we have enough undercommitted couples in the US? Do we really need to force some to remain undercommitted by law?
Just my humble opinion, of course.
P.S. Want to sign the pledge to repeal CA Prop 8? I did. Here's a link for that.
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