Ce Soir ou Jamais

Moving

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Tue, 12 Sep 2006 22:42:00 +0000

I'm turning a new stone and have decided to blog at a new address. That is, when I do have the time again to blog!

Please update your favorites/links to our new address:

Life at Monkey Hill

Thanks! See ya round the new hood soon!

Piper!

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Tue, 12 Sep 2006 21:47:00 +0000

I would have never dreamt this in a million years, but on August 29, two weeks ago today, I gave birth to my second daughter. I've not the time to tell you all the drama and excitement that has surrounded her arrival into this world, though I will say that she is absolutely perfect. PERFECT.

Here she is just minutes old.

And here she is earlier this morning. Like her mommy, she is waiting to get her nails done.

I can't say when I will be back online to share with you the highs and lows that comes with being a new (again) mommy, but I promise it will be soon! I know I can't keep my fans waiting too long.

40 weeks, 2 days....

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Thu, 24 Aug 2006 03:18:00 +0000

Yesterday after the sudden burst of energy which is typical of a pregnant woman about to go into labor, I started to experience labor.!!! It was starting to happen. I had been out walking the dog after making a batch of my world famous chocolate chip cookies. Suddenly I couldn't walk anymore and I had to get inside. It was all I could do to stand. "I'm going to have a baby!" I exclaimed. My dog smiled at me and thought I was talking about cuddling him.

After many hours of having contractions 10 minutes apart, I fell asleep. I was worn out. My husband was tired of massaging my back, too. At 2am I woke up feeling as intense as I had at 10pm. It didn't last long. My husband simply acknowledged me in his sleep with a "Cool" when I tried to wake him with, "I just had 2 more contractions!" I ended up falling back to sleep. When I got up at 6am, it was like nothing had happened: no intensity, no feelings of labor. Nada. In fact, I had dreamt that I was simply mistaking morning sickness for labor.

So I did some housework and hung out with my hubby and daughter. Then at 10am, it all started again. I thought, "This is it! We are having a baby today!" My husband called in sick and my daughter made sure she had all the necessary items in her overnight bag. I called my doctor and was told that if I was feeling as intense as I was last night, go straight to the hospital. So, just to be sure, I waited. And had contractions. And got so emotional that I could barely talk to my friend who is Darian's birth partner. I cried and couldn't stop. My friend thought for sure I was in labor. The dogs stopped barking and my daughter hugged me tight. We left for the hospital at 2 this afternoon.

And nothing happened. I spent close to 2 hours on the fetal monitor in triage and NOT ONE contraction. I was getting uncomfortable with the position I was laying in and hoping the resident would make his way in to check my cervix. How far am I dilated? Will I be discharged from triage and admitted, or sent home? Is this the real life or is this just fantasy? Because by this time, I wasn't easy come, easy go, but I was a little high and a little low. You who have born children know what I am talking about.

It was then that I met the real life Doogie Howser. Dr. Ken was his name. A fine young chap who had a lot of admiration for my OB. Dr. Ken checked out the fetal monitor report ("Yup, not one contraction!"), listened to my heart ("Boy, can I tell you are hungry- I could hear your stomach growl while listening to your chest!"), and used the fancy word for ankle swelling ("You have mild edema in both ankles and feet.) Der, Doogie. Get to the goods. Mommy wants to know how far she is dilated.

"I want to check your cervix, but I first need to get a nurse chaperone. I will be right back!"

I look to my husband with the "Huh?" face who then mouths the word, "Resident." Ah! Fresh out of school and hardly a cervix examined! Of course he needs a nurse to guide his hand!

Dr. Ken returns, a bit flustered to say that the nurse is not available. "Uh, since your husband is here, and I, uh, need to check your cervix, do you give me permission to do so without a nurse present?"

"Dr. Ken, that is the last thing I have been waiting for- this cervical exam. I have no problem having no chaperone." Good lord, I'm not Amish!!

(My husband later said to me, "You know that nurse looked at Ken and said, "Babydoll, I'm working on my crossword here. You just go in and give Mrs. Bo her exam. Don't worry, her husband is there to kick your ass if you make a mistake. Go on, baby. You can do it!)

So Dr. Ken meticulously washes up, puts on gloves, and paints his fingers ever so carefully with lube. Don't want to get too messy! He then starts to conduct the exam and I can feel that this child, this pre-pubescent scamp, has performed this type of internal examination one other time in his 5 minute career. And I assume that exam was not on a live woman. I look at his face, which is flushed, and see that his eyes are closed and he is mouthing numbers to himself. And I kid you not, his hand is shaking. He apologized 3 times for the pressure. What pressure? I want to push a baby out of that space and I want to do it NOW!!! Do I need to reach around and show you how, Doogie? So, in order to make him feel a bit at ease (pardon the lube pun), I told him what happened at my doctor visit Monday:

"Oh, no worries! You know, Dr. A used a metal specula on me Monday, turned his back, and it started to fall out, but got kind of caught. My daughter was with us and said, "Uh, something just fell out of my mom!"

My husband laughed and said, "Yeah, Dr. A seemed pretty tired Monday!"

This did not put Dr. Ken at ease, rather, he turned a darker shade of red. Too bad he couldn't put both his right index finger and left into his ears and shout, "I can't hear you, I can't hear you!" His right hand was still making it's determination as to my dilation.

Doogie didn't have the best news for me. He looked at my chart asking again how many centimeters I was on Monday. "Dr. A says I was 1.5cm and 65% effaced." Doogie looked sad. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bo. You are still around 1cm, but the good news is that you are 80% effaced. I predict in a few more days, you'll be in full labor. Of course, anything can happen!! I'm on call all this week, so it's possible, I will see you again!"

Hooray! I just had a nineteen year old feel me as only few other men have felt me before and he may just get to do it again!!!

So, as you can see, I am back at home, sitting at my computer while my feet dangle increasing my *edema*.

Packing the bag....

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Mon, 21 Aug 2006 19:19:00 +0000

Today is Piper's due date!!! I'm feeling like she will make her debut tomorrow or Wednesday. My body can't handle the sharing for much longer than that.

We have become totally complacent here at Monkey Hill. We went to a couples shower this past Saturday for a friend who is due with their first 6 weeks after ours is due. They have their nursery finished already. I still have yet to wash the bedding and make the crib. Eh. The baby doesn't sleep in the crib the first few weeks, anyway. We did manage to pick up the co-sleeper for our bed the other day because, as you can see, the Moses basket has been taken over by the cats.

Well, Blogger is taking it's sweet old time trying to upoload a picture of my cats and by the time it is online, I will probably have the baby! So, no photo.

One thing that I have managed is personal maintenance: I got a pedicure and my brows are done. BECAUSE HAVING A CLEAN BROW LINE AND FRESHLY PAINTED TOENAILS SCREAM "IT"S TIME TO HAVE A BABY!!"

For my husband, the bag with the laptop and camera are ready for the wi-fi connection at the hospital.....

A trip to the ER and a new toy

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Wed, 16 Aug 2006 04:01:00 +0000

This past weekend was action packed at Monkey Hill! First, my husband decided to surprise me with something I had been asking for before I got pregnant, but ceased to ask for these past 7 months.

"Hmm...the only thing I can think of is that set of cookware I have been coveting. Oh, if you got me saucepans I am going to kill you."

"Keep guessing..."

"Prada handbag!!!"

"Nope, I have it here at work and am playing with it."

"Volvo S80!!"

"Now how can I play with that at work?"

"Ah, you are programming the key thingy?"

"Keep guessing."

Had enough? He got me this. Complete with lessons and lenses. Like I have time for lessons right now, but still!!

Last week he tore a muscle in his calf while doing sprints at tae kwon do. Just what a 39 week pregnant wife needs...a limping husband who has to ice and elevate his strain every hour or so. I gingerly intimated that furniture still needed to be moved, put together, and other finishing touches to the house that I cannot possibly do. (I am the master at delegating and deflecting.) Saturday as he was on the complete mend and excited about his honey-do list, he changed into his leisure clothes to find his calf swollen, his foot purple.

"My God!! You have a blood clot!" I exclaimed!

After phoning the local hospital's ask a nurse, she suggested that an ER visit would be a good thing. So, to rule out the fact that my husband could have a heart attack and die at any moment because of the pool of blood lodged in his foot, and because we just love emergency rooms, we jumped in the car and speeded to the hospital. Where I am pre-registered to deliver Piper.

I am glad to report that this ER visit was painless- only four other patients who apparently did not need to be seen before my husband as they were enjoying movies playing on the 42 inch plasma screen tv's. A quick and timely staff, and a doctor who decided there was no need for bloodwork (cha-ching) or any other sort of tests (again, $$) since my husband did not fall into any risk factors for having a blood clot, we were in and out in an hour flat. Apparently, the swelling and discoloration are typical of a torn muscle; 6 days for it to show up just meant that he has slow moving blood. Or something like that. I just can't wait for the bill!!

Yesterday upon my return from work, excited to see the work that was accomplished around the house- our daughter's room was moved and our spare bedroom was carpeted- I found the husband in the garage, freaking out, getting into his car.

"I'm glad you are here! You need to drive me to the eye doctor. He's ready to see me in 10 minutes!"

What is it now?!! 7 days from my due date and he has an eye infection His eye swollen, his sinuses on overload, and feeling all over not well, he looks like the living dead as he makes his way into the doctor's office, his wife waddling far behind. After some numbing eye drops and a trip to the pharmacy (where I relaxed in a massaging chair!) he is feeling much, much better. And I can't wait for *that* doctor bill!!

I was detailing my husband's ailments to a colleague when she suggested that I need to do something extra special for him. Yeah. Hi. I'M GIVING BIRTH TO HIS CHILD.

So, 6 days and counting and I am already 50% effaced and 1cm dilated!! Oh. Boy. I can't wait for that bill!!!!

It's a 9 year difference

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Thu, 10 Aug 2006 02:41:00 +0000

Ever since I started telling people about my pregnancy and how my daughters will have a 9 year age difference, a common reply is, "Oh, so you have a built in babysitter!" I don't know about you, but I would never trust a nine year old to babysit a baby. Now, maybe when my first born is *15* and my second is *6*, but right off the bat? No. And after hearing people suggest it enough, Darian has asked, in all truth, will she have to babysit at such a young age? I assured her that it is illegal for me to allow this.

My husband's family has experienced a wide span of ages between brothers and sisters. It is pretty common to hear how the oldest of one parent or grandparent helped raise the other kids in the family. And when they talk about having to do so, their voices express a slight undertone of resentment. (Not that they would ever admit to feeling that way! No!) Since the age gaps are so typical, it is assumed that Darian will feel that she, as most of the other women on that side have, were like a second mother. And they have told her this in so much as, "Oh, one day when you are grown up, you will feel like you have raised Piper!" I always come back and say that Darian's role in the family is to be a child and she is never to assume the role of a parent. Scott and I swore that we will NEVER do anything to make her feel like she has anything to do with parenting Piper. NEVER. That said, this morning at breakfast, Darian informed us that she will not be changing any poopy diapers. That's fine by us! We would much rather take that on than chase after the barking dog with the water bottle. Let her parent the dogs! Kids love that kind of stuff! How many movies have you seen where the 8-10 year old adopts or finds a puppy and has it trained to be the envy of all the dog owners in the neighborhood? I bet there isn't a warm and fuzzy movie about a 9 year old raising her sister. Can you think of one?

Today a colleague asked me why one would burden their kid with even mentioning the whole 'second mother' thing. I said I really don't know since I have been married to it for 13 years and it tends to fall on deaf ears. She, too, feels that, even though there is an older sibling in the house, it is not the child's obligation or burden to do any 'parenting' of the new babies or little ones. She then told me this anecdote about her children who are 5 years apart:

"My baby boy was crying and I was occupied for a second. I looked at my daughter who was 5 at the time and asked her to go in the baby's room and try to calm him down. She then put her hands on her hips and said, 'Excuse me, but I am not the mom here.' Well, that was my quick reality check!"

While I do expect my first born to show a bit more responsibility around the house- being proactive with the dogs and her laundry, preparing dinner for her weary parents, making 3am runs to the 24 hour Walgreens to get diapers, and mowing the lawn- I have absolutey no expectations for her with regard to the care, nuturing, and upbringing of our second.

Darian has graciously informed us that she will *play* with her sister. And that's about it.

Thanks, darlin'. You really do know how to listen to your mommy.

They're not coming to visit because of the new baby, it's all about the bed

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Fri, 04 Aug 2006 03:12:00 +0000

I should give you an update as to my pregnancy because, well, I think I have been neglecting in that arena. I hoped you guessed from the last post that I have laughed in the face of hemorrhoids, avoiding them entirely. I KNOW YOU NEEDED TO KNOW THAT.

As of this moment, I have 18 days until my due date. At my last doctor visit, which was this Tuesday, my blood pressure was beautifully low, my weight gain is in check (a total of 28 lbs so far), and Piper has a strong heartbeat. We had an ultrasound a couple weeks ago in which it was determined that she is slightly bigger gestationally than Darian, but she is still far from a nine or ten pounder. My guess is that I will carry her to full term (through August 21), delivering the evening of the 22nd, and she will come out weighing 8lbs 4oz. (Darian was due on June 21, she was born 45 minutes later on the 22nd and weighed in at 7lbs 7oz. I had toxemia during labor, an emergency c-section, and put on close to 80 pounds. My mother-in-law was dying- passed away 24 days after Darian was born, so needless to say that nine years ago, birthing a baby was a very stressful time for me. Not so this go round. Phew!)

So, with that bit if background, try to take a stab at the baby's due date and her weight. I'd be interested to know what you think.

Speaking of guesses, my girlfriend Laa-Laa threw me a lovely shower this past weekend in which one of the games was to guess Piper's due date. I can't wait to find out who the winner will be! I have a small group of incredibly generous friends who showered me with love, support, items from my registry, and super cute baby clothes. I really am blessed to have their circle surrounding me.

In addition to being showered by friends, my husband and I upgraded our bed to a king this past weekend and treated ourselves to a Tempurpedic. (No, we did not order it from TV! We actually tried it first at a mattress store, comparing it to the mattress we planned on purchasing.) All I can say is that it is Heavenly. The day it was delivered, I warned my boss that I may not make it into work the next day for wanting to revel in the unique feeling this mattress delivers. Though I still awake at 3am thanks to Piper using my bladder as a pillow, I have had the most restful sleep I think I have ever had. So now, our friends are wanting to visit us- not to see the new baby- but to lay on the bed!! Who can blame them?!!

The H word

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Wed, 02 Aug 2006 00:28:00 +0000

I receive an online newsletter that provides me with information about my pregnancy tips for coping, etc. I have to admit that I hardly pay attention. Until yesterday when this came through my inbox:

Week 37 Pregnancy Tip

Keeping Hemorrhoids Quiet

Hi J Bo,
Many women experience hemorrhoids during pregnancy, to their great discomfort. Here are some things you can do to manage the itching, bleeding and general pain:
~Gradually increase your intake of fiber-rich foods, such as whole wheat breads and cereals with bran, to avoid constipation which can cause hemorrhoids
~Don't strain during bowel movements
~Use moistened toilet paper or packaged wet wipes for meticulous cleaning
~Perform Kegel exercises daily to strengthen your pelvic floor and aid circulation in your pelvic area

I didn't realize hemorrhoids were loud.

Just because I have two brains in my body doesn't mean I can think

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Sun, 30 Jul 2006 15:26:00 +0000

The other night my husband and I were talking about people we thought were easy on the eyes. Only because, every time he talks about our accountant, I *always* mutter under my breath, "Oh, he is so easy on the eyes." In our 13 years together, my husband has never mentioned another person we know personally who he finds attractive.

"So, I will tell you, honey, that there is one woman in our neighborhood here who I find easy on the eyes."

"Really?!! Let me try to guess......OH, it's got to be...Ruth"

(Ruth is our nosey German neighbor who told me that she didn't realize that I was pregnant but thought I was 'just getting big.' She's also older than dirt.)

"Oh, you know it...that fine piece of German heiney walking her dog in front of our house everyday, looking in the windows."

"But Heiney is a dutch beer."

"Yeah, you're right. Nope, not her. Guess again."

"OK...it's got to be Mary. When she's outside in her housecoat smoking a cigarette."

"NO!"

"Margie?"

"The one who has a rocking chair sculpture in her yard? Nope!"

"Well, then it has to be Stephanie."

"Who?"

"Stephanie. From across the street? She is kind of young? You think her name is Michelle?"

"Oh. No."

"Well..."

"Honey, it's YOU, moron!! YOU are the one lady in the neighborhood I think is easy on the eyes!!!! WHO ELSE WOULD IT BE???"

duh.

Tell me why....

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Thu, 27 Jul 2006 00:16:00 +0000

...my husband installs an air conditioner and this morning the heating guy shows up to fill our oil tank?

Because when it was 94 degrees on Sunday, the oil company wanted to make sure we were prepared for the upcoming freeze!!

Oh. I know my friend....irony.

Enough with the irony, already!

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Fri, 21 Jul 2006 05:51:00 +0000

Not soon after I posted today's whine, Little Dog ran out the cat door to bark at the neighbors. When I made my way to the back porch to call him in, he came running toward me with something rolled up in his mouth.

It was a poopy diaper.

I kid you not.

That dog brought me a poop filled diaper.

And irony is defined how?!!

Running the gamut of emotions

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Thu, 20 Jul 2006 23:43:00 +0000

My husband tells me that I exhibit three emotions: Happy, Angry, and Tired. Angry and Tired have had to have me medicated for about half our marriage so that all of us at Monkey Hill can remain Happy. Generally, you could say that I am Happy. In fact, just yesterday a co-worker told me how 'chipper' I seemed despite the fact that I appear to be carrying quintuplets and that she was not nearly that nice when she was pregnant. I let her know that she was lucky she did not live with me. (And I'm good at 'checkin' it at the door' when I enter the workplace.)

This morning my husband bore witness to an emotion that he has only seen 2 other times in the past 13 years, and one my daughter has never, ever seen: uncontrollable/inconsolable Sadness. No, not the type of sadness that overtakes me when I watch The Sea Inside, but the Sadness that turns me into a blathering idiot, crying so hard that I actually throw up. Oh, sure, I cry. A Lot. But this morning's cry, and those two other times, felt like a speeding bullet had entered my chest, causing me to explode and never know if I could ever become whole again.

I lost it when I got up this morning at 4:55am (mind you, I am not sleeping well, at all, so you are probably surprised I haven't lost it sooner! Even my doctor told me he is not up that early) to find a puddle and package from Little Dog. Sure, this behavior, while it has gotten better, should not cause one to cry. But it was the moment I walked out of my room and was hit with the smell of dog poo that a wave of emotions hit me at the same time, causing the deep sobs. It was at that moment that I felt completely helpless, lost, and utterly alone. How, possibly, can I raise another daughter when I can't even get my dog to go outside to crap?

My husband woke up to clean up the mess and do his best to make me feel better. He's more of a doer than an empath, so he made sure I had water to drink and that I made it to the toilet to throw up. And then he climbed back into bed with me and listened to me cry for close to two hours. Poor Darian woke up wondering what was the matter, not sure why Mommy was crying so hard. "Mother Nature hit Mommy, telling her she needed to get her butt in gear since the baby is going to be here really, really, soon. That hurt Mommy, so she is crying," was how my husband explained my outburst to our first born. My daughter, who is an empath, had tears in her eyes and said, "I think you really need to lay down and have me cuddle you." And then I cried some more.

(Though we are technically 35 weeks 3 days, Piper measures gestationally 36 weeks 5 days, which means she could come about 8 days earlier than we thought- thwarting all my plans!!)

I thought I was getting better, when my husband, who obviously should have kept his thoughts to himself said outloud, "There's some chicken in the fridge that will need to get cooked tonight."

The sobbing resumed with the half hiccuping words escaping me, "I can't even handle the dog and you want me to cook some chicken tonight?"

"Honey, I am sorry. I will grill it; don't worry. I'm sorry I said anything about chicken."

I ended up falling asleep, completely spent from the loss of so many tears; dreamless sleep that caused me to wake just in time to say goodbye to Darian as she left for day camp. I ended up going into work for a half day.

I'm a lot better as of dinner time. No, I didn't cook any chicken; I will leave that for my husband. I had a productive afternoon at work and am now vegging out with my girl, the one Thursday where we do not have to go to Tae Kwon Do class.

And no dog left me a package to deal with upon my arrival home.

She certainly has her priorities straight

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Thu, 20 Jul 2006 00:04:00 +0000

"So, I was planning out my life and wanted to give you a list of all the things I will be doing after the baby is born."

"OK, Darian, tell me."

"Well, first, I am going to go to fourth grade. Then, I will finish elementary school and then go to middle school. Then I have to go high school. Not junior high, right?"

"You will go to middle school; not junior high."

"OK. Then after I graduate from high school I want to buy some properties. Then I will go to college. Then after college I will get married."

"OK."

"And then I will buy some more properties. And then I will have sex and have a baby."

I'm not ready to have a baby....yet

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Sun, 09 Jul 2006 15:48:00 +0000

Friday I went in for a routine OB check when my doctor nonchalantly said that I have a 'bit of protein' in my urine. My blood pressure was slightly higher than normal and there is some concern about my ever swollen ankles and hands, so, of course that means that I have preeclampsia. OK. Not really. But... I go back to the doctor on Thursday for another check and he said that if things look the same, or the protein levels have increased, then he will have to INDUCE ME.

"OH NO!, " I exclaimed! "Dr. A, I cannot have this baby before August 21. For one: my mother does not even arrive to help me until August 26. For two: taking the twelve weeks maternity leave during the week of August 12 has me back in the office the week of Thanksgiving. That's a holiday week; the perfect time to get back into the routine of work. And for three: I HAVEN'T EVEN HAD MY BABY SHOWER YET!!!"

Dr. A gave a comforting smile and asked, "Didn't having Darian teach you anything about having babies?"

"Yes! She came 45 minutes after her due date! I can have a baby when I want to!!!"

Trying not to laugh at his obviously mental patient, Dr. A gently said, "You believe what you want, and I will see you next week. Watch out for blurred vision and headaches."

Blurred vision and headaches?! Blurred vision and headaches?! My doctor just used the term 'induce' and he expects me to be wary of a headache? That word alone uttered to a 8.5 month pregnant woman is cause for a headache. Preeclampsia, or not!
So, naturally I have been having mild freakouts and one rager of a headache since Friday afternoon.

I came home and just stared in utter disbelief that my house will soon have a newborn living in it. Where? The crib is still disassembled in the garage; the moses basket is still in storage. Darian's two rooms have yet to be condensed and painted to make way for Piper. I have not one diaper, receiving blanket, or CAR SEAT to call my baby's. (However, I did win an auction on eBay last week- my first ever- and will be getting a brand new kate spade diaper bag in the mail this week, in addition to my petunia pickle bottom! I KNOW!! My priorities with having a new baby are SERIOUSLY OUT OF WACK!! Please do not rub it in. I'm a little tense at the moment. Thank you very much.)

My husband and my very good girlfriends have assured me that everything will be fine and not worry so much. I do realize that all the 'problems' can be solved with a quick trip to Babies R Us and Costco and that the home organization can be done in less than a weekend if my husband rallies one guy friend to work with him. ::::Sidebar: my husband said that because Darian's room is to be painted two colors that it cannot possibly be done in a weekend and I asked, "Have you not seen Trading Spaces? Like hell you can't get that room painted in a weekend." "Oh, yeah, they get a room painted in a weekend, but I bet a week later it looks like crap." UGH!!! Just humor me, husband!! Paint the frickin' room!!!

Dear internet, I have not asked you for much, but today I ask that you send Have Piper On Her Due Date Or Close Enough To It vibes my way. I know all of you out there know that babies come when they are ready, not when Mommy has the house ready, but, like I asked of my husband, HUMOR ME.

Baby II~ Electric Bugaloo

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Sat, 01 Jul 2006 17:29:00 +0000

Piper is one active baby girl and recently I have begun to feel her auditioning for 'So You Think You Can Dance?' in utero. Initially, I would feel little flutters near my hips and was convinced that she was practicing her JAZZ HANDS. Then a little heel to the ribs a la the cha cha. Other times, I would feel her head and knees press into my bladder, pelvis and general nether regions as if she was doing crunches to warm up. This move is extremely painful to the person who carries her everywhere and I have had to tell her many times to STOP IT ALREADY!!

In fact, I have just sent her a memo reminding her of the few simple rules of body sharing:

1. At no time are you to be working out. No crunches, push ups and
absolutely no pilates. There's hardly room for me to stretch anymore.
2. If you happen to find yourself doing a little jig, share with me the
song in your head. Someone just hit me with 'C'mon Eileen' and I think I am
going insane.
3. While break dancing is awfully cool, can you stop doing that snake thing?
I'm feeling woozy enough with this Seattle heat.
4. Save the tae kwon do kicking for your father!!!

By abiding by these small requests, can we merrily spend the next 7 weeks. Oh, my...did I just say 7 weeks? Your imminent birth is creepin' up on me, kid.

Lily's Pampering Salon and Party Boutique

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Sun, 25 Jun 2006 20:00:00 +0000

If you have a daughter who's a little posh, a little chic, loves to be pampered, and has a mom who is too lazy to throw a party, then Lily's Pampering Salon and Party Boutique on Seattle's Queen Anne Hill is the place to host her next birthday celebration.

Lily's is a place for the girly-girl in all of us. The polar opposite of Club Libby Lu (or Pimp My Kid, as I love to call it), Lily's is an elegant salon, decorated as though Pottery Barn Kids went a bit Rococo, complete with crystal chandeliers and overstuffed pillows. Licensed aestheticians cater to a young girls needs: services include everything from bang trims to pedicures to updos. And though Lily's target customer is aged 4-12, mom is welcome to get her bangs trimmed while her daughter's nails are polished the perfect shade of pink.

The best part about Lily's? The downstairs Party Boutique. Choosing from an array of themes (friendship, hippy chic, sleeping beauties, pretty in pink), your daughter and up to 11 of her friends receive a posh polish, an updo, complete a craft project, and dine on cupcakes served on china. The moment is then frozen in time with a group photo taken under an archway of ribbon and tulle (my daughter's favorite part of the party). Each guest goes home with a glassine bag filled with yummy sweets and themed based gift. (Sleeping Beauties get a hand sewn pillow case decorated with a fairy godmother.) Not only do two stylists host the party for you, Lily's provides the invitations and thank you cards. And the cupcakes and cleanup are all included in the party package cost, too!

Darian selected Sleeping Beauties as her theme so her guests were all referred to as 'Princess' and their craft was to make a magic wand. My daughter decided to kick me and the other moms out of the party room for her magical hour and a half, so I got to spend some time sitting outside just down the street at El Diablo Coffee enjoying tres leches cake. Upon our return, we did get to watch some of the present opening and I was glad to see that a gift list was kept by one of the party hosts. She even packed up all the presents, saving all gift bags and bows!

This was probably the easiest- not to mention cost effective- birthday party I have ever had to throw, and according to my daughter, one of the best she has ever had! I highly recommend Lily's to all my friends with daughters.

Overheard in the child's room

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Sun, 25 Jun 2006 17:45:00 +0000

"So, do you feel any different now that you are nine?"

"Not really. I am a little taller, though!"

"Yeah, and your parents let you get away with more stuff."

"Yeah, like I got an iPod for my birthday. But my mom says I can't have a laptop until I'm in my tens."

Nine years ago today...

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Thu, 22 Jun 2006 07:45:00 +0000

My body birthed a gorgeous little girl. A perfect seven pounds, seven ounces, 19 inches long, 10 fingered, 10 toed little girl.

I celebrate your birth with you today, my Darian. In nine years you have grown to become a self confident, imaginative, caring, funny, kind, and all around beautiful girl. I couldn't be prouder to be your mom.

Happy Birthday, my love.

I loves me some crab cakes

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Sun, 18 Jun 2006 18:54:00 +0000

Saturday night our family went to dinner at the Dahlia Lounge, a place we had never eaten before in the past. We should be smacked for not eating there sooner. For starters we had baked hearts of palm served over salmon and a wild morel ravioli. Oh, how the flavors melted in my mouth! I could never begin to become a food critic, so you will just have to take my word that these two appetizers really did whet my whistle for more delectable treats. I decided I wanted sea food, being that I have not had any since getting pregnant. I live in the Pacific Northwest....if I could start back up on the coffee, I could certainly indulge in salmon (It's the tail end of Copper River season), or a piece of halibut. But it was the crab cakes that piqued my interest.

In case you don't know, I grew up in Baltimore. My summer dinners consisted of steamed Maryland Blue Crabs, lunches of crab cakes, and later in the fall- crab bisque. I'd never known any other crab until I moved to Seattle when I was dismayed to taste the Dungeness crab. In Maryland, you get a bushel of steamed crabs, seasoned with Old Bay, of course, a pitcher of beer, and your evening is filled with pickin' some of the sweetest meat you could ever taste. Here, when you order Dungeness crab, you get one. One crab that is boiled and has absolutely no flavor. After that disappointment, I decided to order crab cakes, holding out for some flavor. I continue to be saddened with what I am served. Bland is about the best word I can use to describe past dinners. Prince said it best, writing 'Nothin' Compares 2 You', an homage to the Maryland Blue Crab. Betcha didn't know that little bit of trivia, did ya?

Prince never tasted Tom Douglas' creation that was on Dahlia's menu Saturday night: Lemon~scallion Dungeness crab cakes with sweet chili avocado, caramelized romaine,
tomatoes with basil and bÃ©arnaise. I did and I have to say it was the best tasting crab cake served up in the Pacific Northwest that I have ever tasted. Make that TWO crabcakes as that is how many were on my plate. The cakes were fluffy and thick~ ALL CRAB, not filler like most restaurants pass off. The crispy yet smooth coating, which I never asked, but tasted much like my favorite coating- panko, was buttery without tasting fat or heavy and complimented the crab meat well. The sweet chili avocado brought out the fresh taste of the crab while the carmelized romaine and tomatoes added that sweet kick. It was heaven served on china.

Oh, Dahlia Lounge...I WILL be back for dinner. Those crab cakes are calling my name again......

ps- Of course I never left the restaurant without having a slice of Tom's Famous Triple Coconut Cream Pie. My God, I thought I was in heaven with the crab cakes.....Oy, it was so good!!

It's cheese...that's the stuff that binds

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Fri, 16 Jun 2006 01:57:00 +0000

I was over at Kristine's reading about her upcoming nuptials and feeling all giddy that she is marrying her best friend.

Honey, if I haven't said it to you recently, I am so glad that I married you, my best friend. And I have to share with the blogisphere the story of the couple on the bus that will be us in 40 years.

Before I ever met and married Scott, I used to live outside of Seattle and commute to work by bus. On Saturdays, the bus changed routes to include the quaint little downtown of the city where I was living because who needs Express on a Saturday morning? I noticed that the passengers on the Saturday bus were predominately from the retirement village~ many older ladies dressed up for shopping, but more elderly couples who held each other's hands stepping onto the bus, the husbands always seating their wives before taking their own.

One morning, a couple boarded and happened to spot some friends. I was not too many rows behind them and couldn't help hear the conversation that the wife was having with her friend; the husband casually looking out the window.

"Oh, and can you believe all that they are doing over there? Cutting down all those beautiful trees?"

"I know, I can't believe it myself. But you know, with all those people moving out here.....I hate to see them cutting down all those trees."

The elderly husband looks toward his wife and asks quite seriously, "Cheese? Who cut the cheese?"

"Honey, it's trees. We are talking about cutting down trees."

She patted him gently, a smile of knowing on her face while he shrugged and went back to his gazing. She continued her conversation; cheese cutting being a topic I am sure she has had to correct her husband on many a time. It would not break her concentration conversing with her friend. And fortunately, no one on the bus was breaking wind.

I sat back in my seat and wondered if I would ever have that type of relationship~ to be insync with another for obviously decades, continuing to interact with each other as they were a silly young couple, a retired old comedy act.

When my boyfriend decided to propose to me, surprising not only me but his family on a Christmas Eve, he did not present me with a ring- the symbol that love has no end. He chose a coffee table sized book about cheese. That's right. Cheese. Cause cheese is the stuff that binds.

I fast forward to us after our sixtieth anniversary, both of us about 83 years old discussing our marriage with our grandchildren:

"And would you believe that Pop-Pop presented me with a book about cheese to propose?"

"Trees? I didn't give you a present of trees, damnit! I cut the cheese!"

And I pat him gently and smile and go back to my conversation.

Rest up!

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Wed, 14 Jun 2006 00:42:00 +0000

"OK, good....your cervix is still closed."

"Closed for renovations, eh doctor?!!" quips my husband.

"That's a good one! I haven't heard that one before!" my OB giggles. AND CONTINUES TO GIGGLE WHILE EXAMINING ME!!

"Hey, EXCUSE ME! While the doctor's HAND IS ON MY CERVIX, please REFRAIN from doing your STAND-UP ACT, OK?!!" I glare at my husband.

This is my life yesterday morning at approximately 11:45am. I started having contractions and went to the doctor for a check, even though I had seen him just 6 days prior. Don't worry, everything is fine, but I am to rest as much as possible. No more long walks and I am to keep my feet up as much as I can. The fetal fibronectin test showed I am not having pre-term labor, nor am I expected to go into labor in the next few weeks. Phew! Mom, no need to worry about changing your flight- at least not this month!

And my husband promises to be a labor partner and concerned dad at the next visit. The comedy can stay in the doctor's waiting room!

Seen, Heard, Said in the Kitchen

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Fri, 09 Jun 2006 03:25:00 +0000

"So, you forgot to get Darian's cereal when you were at the store."

"Yeah," I agreed, "I thought $4.19 for her raisin bran was too expensive considering Trader Joe's carries it for like $2.99."

"But you got 3 pints of Haagen Daz."

"I know! And I got a couple boxes of these great chocolate cookies to keep at my desk at work! They're from the Netherlands!"

"I'll bet they were about $4 a box?"

"Yup. About that much."

"So let me get this straight: you just spent twenty bucks on overpriced sweets, but you think $4.19 is too much to pay for organic cereal, so our child has to go without her favorite breakfast in the morning?"

"Honey- it's Haagen Daz and cookies. A pregnant gal has her priorities."

That's a Croc

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Sat, 03 Jun 2006 15:33:00 +0000

One of my favorite things in the world is shoes. I adore shopping for shoes, wearing shoes, and looking at all the shoes in my closet. The shoes I love most to wear are slides that have a 2 to 3 inch heel but I also love a cute maryjane and a Puma sneaker. Since becoming pregnant, I have had to limit the pairs that I wear as swollen feet are hard to get into a size 7 leather slide. Recently, I flew to Denver and the only shoes I packed were heels which meant I had to go shoe shopping! There is no better bonding experience with your boss than discovering a Shoe Pavilion on crack as we could not locate my all time favorite, and hands down, the best shoe store. I came home from the trip with 2 new pair of shoes, having spent a total of 36 hours on Denver soil.

My daughter does not have the same taste in or love of shoes that I do and that is OK, but with the way her feet grow, she owns more pairs than I do. For some time, she has been asking for a pair of slip on clogs. Her home responsibilities include trash duty and litter pan which means she is running out to the garbage about thirty times a day. Generally, she slips on my Ecco clogs- yes, I do have a pair of clogs and I swear they are only worn on the grounds of Monkey Hill- but since my trip to Denver, she has chosen my New Balance slides. Every time that kid slips on my shoes, I fear her toppling down the stairs breaking her leg, or throwing out her back since her feet resemble a pair of skis and mine look like baseball cut rib-eyes. Her feet could drown in my shoes; fortunately they can hold their breath longer than David Blaine can. I need to get past my fear.

Darian's best friend in the world has a snazzy pair of bright green clogs and she has been coveting these shoes for quite some time. Her friend will tell us how comfortable they are, despite the fact that they look like they belong on the peds of a garden gnome, not on a skinny kid. And her parents and brother have pairs, too! A whole family of elfin shoe wearers! They remind me that quality and comfort don't necessarily translate to 'good looking' and I should know this having a pair of Ecco clogs in my wardrobe. Still, they are freakin' ugly shoes.

So last week I gave in after a visit to REI and bought her THESE in fuchsia. While I will not permit her to wear them to school- I know, I am so mean!- she has worn them out to martial arts class and had them on last night when I took her out to dinner. I hate to tell you this, but the waitress COMPLIMENTED her shoes! My home away from home is promoting them. And then as I catch up on blogs, I find this.

WHAT IS IT ABOUT THESE SHOES??

Big M little m

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Sat, 27 May 2006 19:47:00 +0000

Many mumbling mice
are making
midnight music
in the moonlight...

mighty nice

Maybe in your world, Dr. Seuss. But over here at Monkey Hill, they scare the beegees out of J Bo. (cue the Brother's Gibb 'He-he-EH')

Being that I own 3 cats who are indoor/outdoor, they tend to think that the grounds of Monkey Hill are their personal wildlife reserve, complete with game to toy with and prey upon as they fancy. The cats like to show off their skill and prowess by catching vermin then leaving them in most obvious places for their human's viewing pleasure. Their humans are then to praise the cats for keeping the property clean of disease infested city rodents and birds, hoping to find each kill mounted above the mantel, the place of glory. Alas, my cats have been heavy on the nip as I don't praise and I don't mount. Instead, I squeal like a little girl who's just experienced a titty twister by the most foulest of bullies on the playground then runs off to tell her teacher insisting that boy must be expelled.

Sometimes, the vermin my cats catch happen to remain alive once they cross the threshold. This is a little story about such catch.

The other morning, Darian was minding her business in the shower while Scott and I were putzing around in the basement. About 5 minutes into her shower, we heard the most blood curdling scream come out of our child's mouth. Before I could gain my balance to stand, my husband was in the bathroom, ready to avert crisis. Why was she screaming? Because as she was lathering shampoo through her locks, her eyes toward the ceiling, she spied a field mouse sitting upon the shower rod, peering down at her. Scott managed to corner the mouse, trapping it in a large candle votive that I had not yet known where to place in my house. (It is now referred to as the mouse catcher.) He rounded up the cats, taking them and the mouse outside to finish what they started. Outside.

Later that day, after spending hours away from home, we returned to an odorous stench permeating from Darian's room. No, it was not the smell of rotting rodent, instead, one of the dogs- most likely big dog judging from the size of what we found- had a nasty bout of diarrhea and chose Darian's hand made quilt- which she left on the floor!!- as his grassy patch of potty. (Oh, I will get to the dog momentarily; this one's about mice!) We used the opportunity of cleaning up the poo to reorganize Darian's room, getting it ready to move as the baby will be taking over her upstairs room. Darian was working at diligently decluttering while I was in the kitchen preparing a tasty meal when the squeal that Wes Craven needs in his next movie came out of her mouth. Our torti was back with the mouse and this time it's dead body was to be placed at the feet of the cat's human. An eight year old, unsuspecting human. Darian screams, I start screaming, we call Scott- (what can he do- he's at work!!) and then the mouse disappears!!! Our orange tabby decided to move the mouse!

All the while, Darian and I still have not stopped screaming and freaking out, yet I am managing to work on layering my lasagna. (Moms are master multi-taskers!) I happen to look to my left and there is my little dog, Ellie, shaking uncontrollably, tail between the legs, completely unresponsive to my sudden calm voice. I realize that to the dedicated Pomeranian, the screams of his master could only mean that she is being viciously attacked in the dwelling he guards. The split second of calm gone, I look to Darian with tears in my eyes, "My god, the dog is now having a stroke, or a heart attack!!"

But the lasagna...and the dead mouse in the house...and the freaking eight year old...and the need to remain calm else to scare myself into labor!! What do I tackle first? I kill 3 birds with one stone in that I pull Darian close to me, hug her, and pick up the dog and cradle him like a baby with intent of soothing his nerves. He is starting to respond to me and I then lay him down on the living room couch. I dig out some surgical gloves- because every mom has those on hand!- grab a roll of paper towels and a garbage bag, and head into Darian's room to find the mouse. While we had been in the kitchen, our tabby returned the mouse to Darian's room saving me from finding it inside of my shoes, or under my bed covers. He is a smart cat, by the way. I lay 500 paper towels over the mouse and in such a pattern as to only come in contact with 500 paper towels while using the garbage bag as disposing tongs and run it outside to the garbage. Washing my hands 32 times, then finishing my lasagna's cheese mixture, I end this saga with a gallon of cleaner on the floor of Darian's room to rid it of any mouse goo. Lasagne in the oven, timer set, house quiet, and all goodness in the world is now restored.

I rest momentarily on the couch with the dog and realize that all the windows in the house are open so my neighbors must think I really have gone off the deep end and dealt out some savage punishment to my child or pets. (They know how both can work my nerves and recently they have seen cops show up at our home. Just so y'all don't think that CPS or Canine Cops have been on my ass, our home's alarm system went faulty a few weeks ago and had been engaging while we were away. The hot cops at my porch were just courtesy patrol making sure we were all right!) Anyway, my mind just about cleared of the images and ickiness of the mouse, I called my neighbor to assure her that any screams she may have heard had nothing to do with abuse, but to do with a teensy dead mouse.

"J Bo, you mean to tell me that you can deal with all the crap from your little dog, like washing his bottom after he poos, and you can't dispose of a tiny mouse without freaking out?" she questions, as she is laughing uncontrollably. She made a gesture to help me in the future, but with the non stop laughter from her end of the phone, I know that if I call asking for help, she will show up at my door practically passed out from laughing so hard. That's what good neighbors are for: your personal laugh track.

So this past Tuesday, big dog shows us more of his love by turning our living room into a sea of diarrhea at 5am. He'd been relegated to the basement after my husband left for work, when I heard him suddenly crying. Thinking he was sick again, I waddle my way down the stairs to find him and the torti in the bathroom, noses toward the corner toilet. As I ask what is wrong- because you know my dog and my cat can answer me in English- A MOUSE SCURRIES FROM BEHIND THE TOILET AND THE CAT BEGINS THE CHASE.

I have never run up a flight of stairs as fast as I did that morning, slamming the basement door, and placing a towel along the foot of the door. CAUSE EVERYONE KNOWS THAT MICE CANNOT CHEW THROUGH TOWELS.

I have not been presented with the corpse of any mice, yet, but I have my neighbor's number on speed dial and am prepared to be the butt of neighborhood jokes for years to come.

I'LL TAKE JOKES OVER DEAD MICE ANYDAY!!!

And All That Jazz

noreply@blogger.com (Janet) — Mon, 22 May 2006 00:05:00 +0000

Darian and I just returned from an afternoon at the Paramount, sitting down in front (I really lucked out on fabulous seats!), enjoying the musical Chicago. During intermission, Darian noted, "Uh, there aren't any kids here and, uh, I think I know why. This is kind of a *PG-13* musical, right? But, it's OK for me to be here since I am with you."

Yeah, so I dragged my kid to a musical that is about murder, corruption, and a little screwin' around. Forget about that! I'm in it for the choreography and the music! Jazz hands! Fosse! I can't deny my kid those things! My husband thought I was crazy- not for taking our 8 year old to a racy musical, but for going to see it. Again. This is the third time in the past 12 years seeing this musical live; it's one of my absolute favorites. I compared the experience of going to the theater like going to a concert, but he doesn't buy it~ bands play new songs. Well this time round with Chicago, the set design had changed (there was no 'Hollywood Squares' type set), Roxie Hart's character was a little more goofy than I recalled, and Mary Sunshine was not so campy. That's the beauty of a traveling production: a new cast and crew to mix it up and make it seem like you are seeing it for the first time. I've never been disappointed.

Darian is now walking around the house in the midst of chores singing, "He had it comin'....he had it comin'..."

In other news....I'm going to have a baby in 3 months!! 3 months!!! Eeek!!!