Transfer

Brought over from my Myspace blog, since I'm afraid it will disappear into the ether as I continue to neglect said site.

Tuesday, December 01, 2009

Turkeys and birthdays Current mood:enamored Category: Life Thanksgiving here was exactly what it needed to be for Harlan, Mom and myself, and that was LAZY. No time constraints, things plucked slowly along as we felt like doing and we spent loads of time on the couch between whiles. We even got crazy and baked a frozen pie a day early for my birthday (we're not big cake eaters, and when your birthday is one day off a major food holiday you get used to sharing it at a young age; no complaints) and nibbled on that while waiting for the turkey to finish roasting. Yum. Then, Friday morning (yep, Black Friday, my birthday, and one I planned on staying holed up inside because the whole shopping craze freaks me out) I woke up to some strange belly activity. Starting around 4AM, I hopped in the shower and decided it was false labor. Sat and watched a bad movie on demand with the sound almost completely off so as not to disturb anyone else, since I wasn't quite comfortable laying down and couldn't get back to sleep right away, then tried the bed thing again. Come 10:30 or so, woke back up to much of the same, except this time the shower didn't have any effect. A flurry of activity ensued as Mom and Harlan flew around emptying the car, rigging up car seats, finding hospital bags and packing new ones and throwing new stuff in the already packed ones...then we went back to chilling out, more or less, because things at that point weren't far enough along to merit heading out. Till about...Noon? Noon-thirty? Harlan called the midwife, and I about snapped when he tried to give me the phone mid-contraction (I was bent over the table in the hallway, unable to speak, and she apparently wanted to "hear me". Dunno what she was listening for, since I couldn't do much other than try and make myself breathe). Then it was time to go. As an aside to anyone out there who's never been pregnant but might be some day---that car ride? You'll think it's the most uncomfortable thing EVER...till you actually hit active labor. We got to the hospital, Harlan ran out for the wheelchair, I got in it and Mom went to park...and Harlan and I immediately found ourselves lost in empty corridors with nary a doctor in sight. The whole complex is linked up, so technically it's one big building...but were we went in, the elevator didn't go to the right floor. So we got out and found a different elevator...which ALSO didn't go to the right floor. It was funny then, and it's freakin hysterical now. We have a long and distinguished history of getting lost while going places we've already been, but I really think this one took the cake. We passed at least 4 empty nurses' stations before we stumbled on the correct set of elevators. Once we got there...well...You know how it goes...Or if you don't, it goes like hours of contractions that get progressively worse, till you find yourself hollering into whatever you can find to shove your face against, be it the back of a chair, the bed, or your husband's stomach. (Good man.) I went from being kind of proud of myself, thinking "Okay, yes. This sucks. This sucks pretty hard, in fact. But it's not SOOO bad that I need to be making a big racket like they always show...This is going to be doable..." And it's a good thing I was still at that point when the nurse (henceforth referred to by Yvonne, which was her name) explained about the hour or so it takes to get the medication set up in case I decided I wanted it. I was still super-cocky at that point, but I definitely remember the point where I had to move to the bed to try some different positions to get my flipping cervix out of the way and thought, "Wow...I totally understand why people would want medication to get through this." Another side note--The point where, if your cervix is posterior (there's basically a little lip that wont' get out of the way, therefore stopping the progression of labor and getting pinched and stuff), the nurse has to manually push it out of the way so things can get moving is the point where you realize the car trip weren't nothin'. It's hard for me to say how quickly things progressed throughout the day--I was a little too preoccupied to track the hours. Yvonne was pretty much fantastic, and not only kept me moving around to different positions to keep things productive (despite my exhaustion--she just had the demeanor that made me listen instead of getting pissed off) was extraordinarily tolerant of my almost breaking her thumb ("Ana, honey, Yvonne has small children and you're going to break her thumb, I need you to let go.") Harlan was right there, making sure I had the numb hand so it wasn't such an issue, and even sat behind me at one point to help me out since I couldn't hang on to him with both hands otherwise. I actually pulled something in my shoulder trying before Yvonne got him set up in the bed with me. Mom was apparently pushing and breathing with me, though I was oblivious to it at the time; she was kind of the background support and providing necessary fanning and juice. You have not experienced cotton mouth until you've been in labor. After about five hours, Garrett Cole made his appearance (6:05 PM) and I really couldn't do anything but look at him saying "Oh my god" when they put him on my chest. I did register very quickly that he wasn't a scary alien-baby, and then after they wiped his face a bit I realized he was actually a pretty darn good looking newborn. After a while, it was time to cut the cord, and I would've laughed if I hadn't been so exhausted when they looked at Harlan all expectantly. We both said "Noooo that's not necessary, but Grandma can do it if she wants!". They blinked a little, but went with it, and Mom did in fact cut the cord (...ew). I had to stay lying down while they put a few stitches in (I guess my "grunty pushes" weren't quite grunty enough) and Harlan got to snoodle the baby while they did the initial procedures. He weighed exactly six pounds, which everyone was amazed by (to the point where they insisted we take a picture of the numbers on the scale) and can stretch out to 18 3/4 inches. Yvonne and the others coo'ed over how tiny and perfect he was, especially how alert he was. Medicated babies don't stare at everyone around them with big, wide blue eyes, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. I had other things I was going to add, but it'll have to wait, as he just mew'ed from the bed. More to come.

In response to a comment regarding the pain:

The funny thing about it as far as pain goes--the instant he was out I was like "WOAH I feel better!" Renenbering it, it doesn't really stand out as having been bad despite being the single most physically demanding thing I've ever done...like, I have to try and step back for the logical, "Might not seem that bad now, but there was a reason I was screaming and (apparently) cussing the whole time."
Little Man is amazing though--totally worth it.

Ashes to ashes...

The day before last was spent in the soon-to-be-nursery dragging the not-so-sucktastic (which would be a compliment to a vacuum--being sucktastic, that is) Bissell monstrosity around by the hose. The sawdust war has begun, and I'm not sure who won the first battle. While the huge piles in the windows and corners have been vanquished, the floor is still not quite the color it should be, and the aforementioned Bissell managed to express its displeasure at the extended usage (I was crawling around for over an hour) by falling over on me repeatedly. Kind of hurt, but I have to say I felt pretty darn accomplished at the end of it. Some of the unusual items I vacuumed include (in no particular order):

-the window

-a giant purple suitcase. Not Barney purple, more a deep eggplant. Very nice. I've been told it's not practical though, since it's bigger than standard checked-luggage allowed at airports...it will require further cleaning attention before we try and sell it.

-a normal-sized black suitcase

-TWO pack-n-plays, one of which was an expensive hand-me-down that I loathe, the other is one Mum picked up at a garage sale when I first told her I was pregnant. It has elephants, is adorable, and is considerably easier to assemble and break down than the pricey one.

-a wicker love seat. Sawdust definitely won round one on this one...I'll keep you posted as the battle rages on, as this was actually the point where I got depressed over the lack of progress and quit for the day. I don't want to talk about it.

-the yarn bags. I actually put the hose up to one or two balls to see if it'd help...it just made my Superwash Bamboo fuzzy. Crap...will have to re-evaluate yarn cleaning options.

-the saw and saw horse that caused the whole stinking mess in the first place (I couldn't drag it out of the room and through the house the way it was!)

So I've made some progress, to be sure, just not as much as I would have liked. I think I'll have to pull out the *new* Swiffer cover that I knit up and take it for a run in there to see how it fares against fine sawdust, because the vacuum is doing NOTHING to get it off the floor. Might use it on the walls, too...you never know.

I'd post the pattern for said Swiffer cover, except it's going to be an item we'll be making and putting up for sale. That's right folks (I like to imagine there are people out there reading this) we're going to be making all-natural soaps as well as all the washcloths, scrubbies, soap sacks, and other miscellaneous items you could possibly need to clean yourself and your home. It's very exciting. More details to come...

PS-After reading my last, slightly whiny blog, I feel like I should apologize (although again, I'm not sure there's anyone to apologize to other than myself). While the breakdown given was technically correct on many days, the truth is I was feeling particularly loathsome when I wrote that up so it really was much more "blah" than it ever should have been. Things really aren't that bad, and obviously sitting down to type up a blog isn't something that's going to make or break me regarding tasks in a day. Wah-fest is done, and shan't be repeated.

Failing

This blog thing is not as easy to keep up with as I had imagined it would be. Heck, the baby isn't as easy to keep up with as I had imagined. Where I believed I'd have all sorts of spare time to have knitting fly freely off the needles while my darling child slept soundly beside me, the reality set in and kicked my butt about two months ago. Yes, he's a little dearheart, and seems to know exactly when Mommy is about to have some sort of meltdown so he can shoot me one of his big, goofy, gummy-mouthed smiles to avert the aforementioned pending disaster. But his sleeping time has become one of three things:

1-Nap time. Seriously. After the first few weeks of snatching 2-3 hour blips of sleep and functioning mostly on adrenaline, I thought I'd feel SPECTACULAR when the bullfrog started sleeping longer. Well, he has, and to be honest I feel worse now than I did before. Maybe it's because I'm hitting deep sleep and being wrenched back out of it before I've had half as much as I need, but I feel more run-down the more sleep I get.

2-Frantic Cleaning Time. Because as we all know, the dirt doesn't stop just because you want it to. Nor do the dishes wash themselves. (Why haven't scientists gotten on this one? I'm not talking dish washer, that requires loading and unloading and gets full. I want self-washing dishes that put themselves away.)

3-Cooking. This one isn't such a big deal, except when there's something on the menu that takes more focus and energy to put together than I can muster--usually because I skipped #1 to work on #2. I've come up with some tasty new things, and everyone is enjoying dinner time, but if I really work on this like I want to, it leaves a mess that loops back to #2 either that night or the next day, either of which--one again--interferes with #1.

Nap time eclipsed knitting time long ago, and I can't even get that in as often as I'd like. The house is still a happy little disaster and is never as clean as anyone would like, and there's still at least one night a week where I throw something frozen--usually fish--in the oven because I'm just too beat to consider anything else.

How do people do it when they're working full-time?? I hardly ever leave the house and I feel like I'm drowning in unaccomplished tasks.

I think what I'm going to try and do is set myself up a schedule. Yes, it's a little lame and will probably end up looking like those chores sheets parents set up for their kids, but I do well with lists. I'm sort of neurotic about them, actually, it's one of the many things that makes Ravelry so dangerous (but that's neither here nor there). I'm also going to be setting up a spreadsheet to plug in the month's grocery expenditures so we can figure out where all the money's going and get the spending under control. Having a weekly menu planned helps, and I had tried to set things up for Monday and Thursday shopping days, but life seems to interrupt way too often to make that work the way I'd like it to.

Unfortunately, I don't have anything on my computer that does spreadsheets. Not even Microsoft Word, let alone Excel. So the first order of business will be to get that straightened out...because there are all sorts of knitterly pursuits that could be documented as well.