It's always like that!  As soon as you say something, you realize you have been mistaken.  I found the broom.  It wasn't the dogs, it was the tricksy elves who hid it behind the stove.  (Where I looked before I bought the new broom by the way.)

I can still blame it on baby brain. :0)

Someone stole my broom from in front of my front door.  I was washing the walk way in front of our apt, so I left the broom out to dry and it disappeared.  One friend suggested that the dog took it.  To be honest I would very much like to watch either one of our dogs take a broom.  Besides the fact that the broom probably weighs as much as one of them and is about 20 times longer than the other ones legs, our dogs are afraid of brooms.  They act like the were beaten with brooms in their early years.  I know for sure neither of them ever was.  Maybe they are remembering an earlier incarnation.  She said her dog love brooms and she has to lock her dog up when she sweeps because she is always trying to take it away from her.

I thought I had weird dogs.

Bacon, the gate way meat.

O Fortuna Misheard Lyrics (Animated)

You have to watch at least until the octopus in boots going to North Korea.

Yesterday I got up to change and feed the baby.  I played with her, put her down for a nap and cleaned the kitchen washed the dishes and had breakfast. I put the laundry in the washer, checked my email,  facebook, pintrest, and played a game on the iPad.  The baby woke up for second breakfast, so I changed and fed her again, played for a while, and  put her down for second nap.  I put the clothes in the drier, folded the clothes that I took out of the drier, dyed some yarn with food coloring and vinager, and prepared the chicken and vegetables that I would cook for dinner.  Then I reoganized the freezer, found a frozen dinner, heated it up and ate it for lunch.  Then I realized it was only noon and wondered what I was going to do until the baby woke up for first lunch.  So I started to organize my bedroom, which for some reason is always the messiest place in the house.

Now I know what it would be like if I were a morning person. I would get so much done . . .

I dreamed last night that the dogs were in trouble for stealing food from the kitchen. 

I yelled at Louie, who looked appropriately guilty about it and went outside to yell at Buzz. 

Buzz was trying to avoid me, and for some reason my backyard had changed into a school yard.  He was running between the kids and trying to get out of the fence.  I was stalking him. 

When I found him he was a chubby little boy wearing a school uniform (which didn't phase me at all) and while I was still mad at him for stealing food, I was also mad at him for going on a field trip with out having me sign the permission slip. 
I said, "Why didn't you give me a permission slip for this field trip?
(He was just getting off the bus.)  He looked guilty. 
The teacher said, "I thought the permission slip looked like it had been signed by a 9 year old." 
Buzz/Boy said, "He promised me it would look authentic." 
The teacher told me she thought I had poor hand writing. Buzz/Boy appologized prettily,(in a British accent.)  Sort of like Piggy in Lord of the Flies . . .
The teacher said that was a very nice apology.  I agreed and said he was still in trouble when he got home.  The teacher was surprised and said, "but he already apologized!" 
I said, "He's still in trouble when he gets home!" 

Stupid boy/dog stealing my food and running off on field trips with forged permission slips. 

I bet Louie was the one who forged it for him!

8:52 and it's already been a hard day on my feet.  The screen door scraped my heal on the way out of the house, and I jammed my toes on the way into work.

I suppose it would make a difference if I wore real shoes instead of flip-flops.

Speaking of flip-flops,  I have diagnosed myself with "flip-flop disease."  (look it up, it's real!) Also known as planters factitious, more commonly known as fallen arch.

I attribute it, like my hurting knees and my hurting back to being overweight.  Oh- the trials and tribulations of being fat.

My first day of semi-diet didn't really go so well, but honestly this week is really more about getting rid of the not so great things in the house . . . which is why I had to eat those two egg rolls, but had nothing to do with the cookie.  I must withstand the cookies.  I did say no to the ice cream sandwich.

I'm going on a diet soon . . .  apologize in advance.

Do these glasses make me look smart or just more beautiful?

my little helper

I hope this is not telling of my housekeeping skills.   I made beans the other day, after I soaked them one fell in the drain.  It sprouted there.  What a silly thing for a bean to do in the sink, so I put in in one of my house plants, and now it's all leafy and green.  How fantastic! I wonder if I can grow beans next to my watermelons.

My dream is to grow watermelons . . . and pumpkins.  I grew a pumpkin plant once, but  it was an accident, and then the maintenance men pulled it up and aborted all my baby pumpkins.  They were going to be supper cute too.

What I need now is a hose.

EJ is taking her "night nap" or maybe she's trying to be asleep for the night.  If she's asleep for the night now, she will be up by or before 6:00 AM.  It's ok though, that is the schedule we will have once I start back to work next week.  (!)

I've been watching "Ancient Astronauts."  What a bunch of rubbish.  There have been many claims, the Ark of the Covenant was radio active (which is why nobody could touch it.) Manna was made from a manna machine (which was also nuclear powered.) It spewed out manna every day except Sabbath, because it had to be cleaned once a week.  The Israelites had leave the dessert because the manna machine broke . . .

Goliath was an alien.
Jesus, of course, was an alien.
Adam and Eve were genetically engineered by aliens to be slave labor for them.
Enoch was an alien with a spaceship, he could have also been Apollo.
The Ark of the Covenant is buried in Canada.

:)

Wants to blog

I've wanted to blog for some time now, but hands full of baby makes it hard. When she's sleeping I think "I could blog, or I could do something crazy like sleep, eat or take a shower." I have things to say, surprisingly not ALL baby stuff, but probably most of it. I start back to work next week. Maybe I can devote 30 minutes of grandma's babysitting time to blogging.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UVNT4wvIGY&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Dear Eowyn, ignore everything people say about your feet, they are beautiful!

Looking to the future.

"I'm not sure about this!"

Sleepy sweet

We went into the hospital on Sunday night. It was daylights savings time, so of course we were an hour late. It didn't matter though because the doctor had forgotten to tell the hospital we were coming in to be induced.

What does it mean to be induced? For me it meant starting with a drug that started the dilation process. If all went according to schedule, I would have taken that drug for 12 hours, then I would have taken the next drug, which started contractions, for another 6-8 hours, labored for a few hours, and would have had a scheduled baby by Monday afternoon. Of course, that's not what happened. 
I took the dilation drug for 8 hours, when the nurse came in at 6:00AM to give me the last dose, she said, “Oh, look, you are in labor! I guess you’ve been uncomfortable tonight. You don’t need this last dose. Do you want an epidural now?” 
Me: “Uh, yeah!”
The nurse started the second drug at 6:30AM. The day nurse came in at 7:00AM. She said, “Looks like you were dilated to a 4 (out of 10) when we started this drug, and you’re at a 7 now. I’m just going to turn this off for a while. (The doctor wasn’t due in until 8:00.) 
Between 8:00 and 9:00 there was a commotion of doctors and nurses coming in and out, all acting like everything was totally cool. Every three to five minutes they would ask me to shift positions, check the baby’s heart monitor, check the contractions and ask me to shift again. 
At 9:00 one of the nurses called another doctor and said, “Um yeah- every time she has a contraction the fetal heartbeat goes down below 80. Yeah- ok.”
My doctor said, “Your baby is healthy right now, and we want to make sure she stays that way. Her cord is smaller than normal, and it is compressed every time you have a contraction, and they are coming faster now. We want to make sure she is healthy when she’s born, so do you want to go ahead and have a c-section?”
It sounded like a question that wasn’t a question at all. “Do you want a healthy baby or do you want to see what happens?” I decided on the healthy baby. D says he thinks we could have waited, and maybe another doctor would have waited, but in the end a healthy baby was my only goal.
Within two minutes there were 8 nurses swarming over me. Telling me what was going to happen, shoving a surgical gown and mask at Daniel, prepping me and wheeling me away. 
At 9:11 the doctor said, “Look at the peanut head!” I immediately though of “Mr. Peanut.” Peanut head? ! What does that mean? Is she misshapen? Does she have a monocle? She didn’t cry, but they had warned me she wouldn’t at first, she had had a bowl movement in the womb, it was in the fluid surrounding her, if she breathed in the fluid she could get sick, so they cut her cord long and had the nicu folks clean out her lungs before they got her to cry. 
They cleaned her up and gave her to Daniel to bring to me. Of course she was beautiful, and making a face as if to say, “This was not my plan for today!” I don’t think it is anyone’s plan to be pulled out of a comfy place by her face. 
I noticed her head full of brown hair, and the fact that unlike many newborns, she wasn’t red or blotchy, she wasn’t wrinkly and didn’t have floppy ears or a cone (or peanut) head. She looked like one of those “newborn” TV babies, which are really closer to 2 or 3 months old. She looked perfect. I did read that c-section babies tend to look better since they don’t go through the trauma of the birth canal, but I had to admit to myself that I had done an excellent job on that baby.
The first night in the hospital she snorted and snored and made all kinds of unusual sounds. She stayed in the room with us. I had to stay 4 days because of the c-section. Although I didn’t want to stay that long, I knew I had to. I could hardly get out of bed, standing was torture and getting back in the bed was nearly as difficult. 
The swelling was outrageous, at one point my legs were so swollen that I got a bruise from the pressure cuffs they had on me to reduce swelling. The doctor said it would get worse before it got better. By the time I got home my legs were so swollen I could hardly bend them at the knee. 
When we left the hospital, I still looked enormously p regnant. I kept looking at my belly and thinking, “Did they leave somebody in there?”
Things are better now, I can sit and stand relatively easily. I’m still walking slowly, but I’m off the pain medication. I’ve lost half of my pregnancy weight, and hope the other half comes off as easily.
All my energy now goes to figuring out the eating schedule. 
A conversation with the nurse before we left the hospital. “She should eat every two hours. She should have on wet diaper for each day she is old and two or more dirty diapers each day.” 
Me: “But what if she doesn’t?”
Nurse: “It is recommended that she does.”
Me: “But what if she doesn’t?”
Nurse: “It is recommended that she does.”
Me: “But what should I do if she doesn’t?”
Nurse: “Here’s a chart to keep track of her feeding times, her wets and dirties.”
Me: “Thanks.”
She did not and still does not eat every two hours, she did not have the “right” amount of wets and dirties and by the fourth day at home I was ready to have a melt down. I couldn’t get her stay awake to eat, and when she did it was so painful to me I flinched every time she touched me.
Oh- breast feeding, there is a reason two generations of mothers turned to formula.
We are now on a breast feeding, plus pumping, plus formula supplements routine. It is much less painful, but still very time consuming. We will figure it out eventually.

Bare foot and pregnant

I never wondered before about the phrase "bare foot and pregnant." I suppose I thought it had to do with being a house wife and not needing shoes on account of nowhere to go. Now I know the truth. I have places to go, but most of the time my shoes don't go with me. For the past 2 months I have increasingly eshewed my "real" shoes in favor of house shoes. For the past few weeks it has ben an exclusive relationship; shopping, work, special events- all have been attended by my house shoes.

I would like to make a resolution to be a better blogger, but that probably won't happen.  I've been spending a lot of time cleaning, organizing, unpacking, repacking, washing, reading, knitting, watching TV, (a little bit of working) and a lot of sleeping.

Vacation is so good.

I just finished my "Baby Shawl"  which is a triangular baby blanket.  I'm almost finished with the little green baby sweater, and then I'll move on to finish all the baby toys I started and didn't finish some time ago.  I will make a commitment to no new yarn- not when I have so very much stuffed everywhere imaginable. Also no new fabric- I think I'm a hoarder.  It's awful.

No new books- except the crafty books that I really need!   :)  I'm trying to read through my books and send them on their ways.  I've come the realization that I like empty space.  I mean I love stuff, but I also really like not cluttered.

It's not easy by myself, harder with D and I feel nearly impossible with a baby, but I will make my small efforts.

It's a girl!  She's due March 10.  

Messed up week

It’s been a really really messed up week
Seven days of torture, seven days of bitter
And my girlfriend went and cheated on me . . . no wait, I don't have a girlfriend.

What I do have is a $300 ER bill, a $1400 truck tires and repair bill, a $100 vet bill and somewhere between a $600 and $1200 car repair bill (finding out Monday if my warranty is still in place.)

La la la, whatever, la la la, it doesn’t matter, la la la, oh well, la la la

DEB took his truck in for tires and found out he needed break work and some other stuff, which we couldn't afford, so we didn't get.

On Wednesday morning he woke up with severe pain and concluded he probably had another kidney stone. He called the doctor, took some 11 year old pain killers and sent me off to work. When I got back he said "We need to go the the ER now." 3 hours and $300 later we had new pain killers and some pee filters. The pain mysteriously disappeared and hasn't been back since, sans drugs.

Friday Louie had to go to the vet ER because he had some kind of seizure. He couldn't focus his eyes and wouldn't respond. The vet said she didn't know exactly was the problem was, but he was fine by the time he left a few hours later. She said watch him and if has more problems, take him to the regular vet for testing.

Saturday my car's big red exclamation point in a triangle light came on. DEB was driving and had to have it towed to a dealership. They said it was a warning light about getting the 120,000 mile check up or maybe I got too low on gas? Which was strange because no warning lights came on for 24 hours after it both got low and I filled it up and drove it 50+ miles. Crackpot Toyota people. They did an expensive diagnostic, said it needed lots of stuff, gave DEB a 2011 Prius rental and said check back on Monday to find out how much it will be.

This week gave me a headache.

People sending and posting baby videos: would it kill you to do a little narrating?!  I realize your baby is amazing, but a silent video of a baby wiggling around for a minute and a half don't cut it for me, and I'm feeling all maternal and stuff!