I saw this on someone else's website (Her name is WowClaire):
Brevity is a virtue. One that I lack.
I'm totally going to steal this.
I literally cannot give a short answer. My life is so strange that I always feel the need to explain what is actually going on and why something is the way it is. I think people are actually asking me fewer questions for fear of the long answer they are going to be on the receiving end of.
See, I couldn't even write the line and leave it. But I think I'll stop explaining at this point. (If you know me well at all, you get the picture.)
Okay, I'm done. Really.
Over and out.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Now I Know How Charlie Brown Feels
Poor Chuck. I feel his pain.
Today as I was walking Austin to his class, a big bunch of heavy snow fell off of a branch above me and landed right on top of my head. I couldn't believe it. As I was shaking it off and thinking it was kind of a Charlie Brown moment, another load on the next tree tried to get me. Luckily, with my cat-like reflexes, I dodged it and it only got my shoes and shoulder.
Later, in the grocery store it wasn't really our day either. Halfway through my list, Austin started complaining of a stomachache.
"Will you be okay until we're done?" I asked him.
"No, I want to go home."
"Are you going to throw up?"
"No, my stomach just hurts."
I quickly scrambled to get the essentials; milk, bread and apples. I really hate grocery shopping so I didn't want to have to come back later.
"Can I get a few more things?"
"No, my stomach really hurts."
"Do you need to use the bathroom?"
"Yes, I really need to go."
So we rushed to the bathroom. I had the nice lady at the Play Place watch my cart.
He used the bathroom but (how do I put this delicately?), not as much came out as I was hoping. Not enough to help his stomachache anyway.
He then proceeded to sit on the bathroom floor, stark naked from the waist down. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I was mentally making a note of everything we were going to have to sterilize once we got home; him, his clothes, socks (why did he take them off?), etc. (He had also dropped his ever-present colored pencil in the corner of the stall. I had to pick it up for him. I then added myself to the sterilization list.)
We got him put back together and washed our hands and headed back to our cart. I asked him if I could get some more groceries and he started to cry. I took that as a no. I did ask if he thought he was going to throw up and he again said no.
We got in line to pay for our groceries. Austin ended up spread eagle on the floor on his stomach in front of my cart. Germs were the last thing on my mind. I just wanted to get him home in case he really was going to throw up.
We paid and I hustled him and the groceries to the car. Luckily I still had some towels kicking around in the car from the Activity Day that we used them for. I strapped him in, handed him a towel and told him to just rest. He was asleep by the time I loaded the car and got us home.
At least I'll get some time alone while he sleeps, I thought to myself. We got home and I hurried to make a little bed on the floor of my bedroom, complete with more towels in case he threw up. I carried him in, got him settled in on the floor and started to unload the car. By the time I had the second load in the house he had popped up and was in the kitchen asking what he could eat. He said he felt fine and that was the end of that. I'm not sure what was really going on. He's acted normally since he got up.
I am a little unhappy that I only got half of what I needed. We'll see what we end up eating this week.
The last episode of my day (so far) happened after I dropped Ally off at karate. It's only a mile or so away from my mom's house, so sometimes I head over there to help her do things or drop off or pick things up. Today she wasn't home yet from town, so I parked in front of her house. The walk wasn't shovelled all the way to the road, but there was one set of footprints. Since the snow is pretty deep, I tried to walk in the prints. I'm not sure what happened, but somehow I ended up slipping and sliding way down into the ditch, with snow up to my waist and all the way up my back. It was wet and it was COLD! (But it was soft, so I didn't get hurt. That was a plus. Hal reminded me later that there was re-bar in that ditch, so I was lucky I didn't get impaled.)
I wanted to come home and eat some Easter candy to make myself feel better, but it was on the part of my shopping list that I didn't get to buy.
What would Charlie Brown do?
Today as I was walking Austin to his class, a big bunch of heavy snow fell off of a branch above me and landed right on top of my head. I couldn't believe it. As I was shaking it off and thinking it was kind of a Charlie Brown moment, another load on the next tree tried to get me. Luckily, with my cat-like reflexes, I dodged it and it only got my shoes and shoulder.
Later, in the grocery store it wasn't really our day either. Halfway through my list, Austin started complaining of a stomachache.
"Will you be okay until we're done?" I asked him.
"No, I want to go home."
"Are you going to throw up?"
"No, my stomach just hurts."
I quickly scrambled to get the essentials; milk, bread and apples. I really hate grocery shopping so I didn't want to have to come back later.
"Can I get a few more things?"
"No, my stomach really hurts."
"Do you need to use the bathroom?"
"Yes, I really need to go."
So we rushed to the bathroom. I had the nice lady at the Play Place watch my cart.
He used the bathroom but (how do I put this delicately?), not as much came out as I was hoping. Not enough to help his stomachache anyway.
He then proceeded to sit on the bathroom floor, stark naked from the waist down. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I was mentally making a note of everything we were going to have to sterilize once we got home; him, his clothes, socks (why did he take them off?), etc. (He had also dropped his ever-present colored pencil in the corner of the stall. I had to pick it up for him. I then added myself to the sterilization list.)
We got him put back together and washed our hands and headed back to our cart. I asked him if I could get some more groceries and he started to cry. I took that as a no. I did ask if he thought he was going to throw up and he again said no.
We got in line to pay for our groceries. Austin ended up spread eagle on the floor on his stomach in front of my cart. Germs were the last thing on my mind. I just wanted to get him home in case he really was going to throw up.
We paid and I hustled him and the groceries to the car. Luckily I still had some towels kicking around in the car from the Activity Day that we used them for. I strapped him in, handed him a towel and told him to just rest. He was asleep by the time I loaded the car and got us home.
At least I'll get some time alone while he sleeps, I thought to myself. We got home and I hurried to make a little bed on the floor of my bedroom, complete with more towels in case he threw up. I carried him in, got him settled in on the floor and started to unload the car. By the time I had the second load in the house he had popped up and was in the kitchen asking what he could eat. He said he felt fine and that was the end of that. I'm not sure what was really going on. He's acted normally since he got up.
I am a little unhappy that I only got half of what I needed. We'll see what we end up eating this week.
The last episode of my day (so far) happened after I dropped Ally off at karate. It's only a mile or so away from my mom's house, so sometimes I head over there to help her do things or drop off or pick things up. Today she wasn't home yet from town, so I parked in front of her house. The walk wasn't shovelled all the way to the road, but there was one set of footprints. Since the snow is pretty deep, I tried to walk in the prints. I'm not sure what happened, but somehow I ended up slipping and sliding way down into the ditch, with snow up to my waist and all the way up my back. It was wet and it was COLD! (But it was soft, so I didn't get hurt. That was a plus. Hal reminded me later that there was re-bar in that ditch, so I was lucky I didn't get impaled.)
I wanted to come home and eat some Easter candy to make myself feel better, but it was on the part of my shopping list that I didn't get to buy.
What would Charlie Brown do?
Monday, March 9, 2009
The Worst C-Section I Ever Had
Okay, to be fair, it's actually the only c-section I've had. But, I'm pretty sure it would qualify for a rotten one. Here are MOST of the gory details:
Austin was due in September (8th or 9th, I can't remember now) 2004. It was a lousy pregnancy, like the others, with lots of throwing up, visits to the Perinatologist (for the Big C and Little E problems and to rule out physical abnormalities and watch the cysts on his brain).
One thing that made this pregnancy stand out from the others was the added bonus of having pneumonia twice. I was pretty sure I was going to have to resort to Depends eventually (please don't ask me to explain why).
A month before he was due, we decided to hurry and paint my bedroom. I was so tired that when I woke up in the middle of the night, I had to drag myself to the bathroom. I actually ended up getting rug burns on my stomach because it was so huge and dragged on the carpet. Isn't that sad!
We had just found out a week or so before that Austin was breech so we were looking at a possible c-section.
I went to the doctor on Monday the 16th of August (3 weeks before he was due) to talk about trying to turn him, but the number one reason to not turn them is if the placenta is in the front. It is too dangerous and that's where my placenta was (of course). (I was actually relieved to not have to make that decision for fear I would make the wrong choice and hurt the baby.) When he checked me, I was already at a 3 1/2 and also the cord was prolapsed (in the opening of the uterus), which is dangerous if your water breaks because it can compress the cord and cut off the oxygen. Also, the baby was getting really big for his age and the doctor was worried about that.
I had enough medical problems that he called the hospital to see about admitting me but they said I couldn't go up because they were too full. Also, he said I had eaten too recently for a c-section. So, he stripped my membranes and sent me home, saying that if I went into labor to just show up at the hospital, not call first so they wouldn't try to discourage me from coming in. He also said to call him in the morning if I didn't go into labor first and then he would try to fit me into the schedule.
Well, I did end up going into labor that started really slow and painless, but by the time I got Hal motivated to take me in, I was having really hard contractions every 5 minutes. They ran around fast at the hospital trying to get us ready and the anesthesiologist (it took an hour before he could get started) for some reason had a hard time with the epidural and I went numb all over and went into anaphylactic shock. My tongue started to swell up and I couldn't talk (this had happened before, so I knew exactly what was going on and wasn't happy). He then had to inject me with a lot of Benadryl to counteract the drug I was allergic to. Anyway, he finally got me all fixed up and the nurses came in and said my doctor went out of town and it would be another hour before he would get in and they were going to inject me with something to slow down the contractions. (Why did he strip my membranes and then go out of town? I have no idea.) Anyway, he finally showed up and they started the c‑section.
I was really loopy by now from all the different drugs. I remember I kept hearing myself saying really stupid things, but I couldn't really stop myself from saying them. After they got Austin's feet out, the doctors started acting funny and finally someone said "Get the forceps." and I said "You're not supposed to have to use forceps with a c‑section." Then he said "You just had a really big contraction and we can't get the baby's head out. I'm going to have to make a really big cut in your uterus." So he basically sliced it in two (with a vertical cut called a “j” cut) and got Austin out. (So, it would be safe to say I've earned my flabby stomach with both a horizontal AND a vertical cut. My poor abs don't really have a chance, do they?)
I kept asking what the baby's apgars were and everyone kept ignoring me. I finally found out later that they didn't want me to panic because his first number was a 1, which is practically dead. He ended up staying the first night in the ICU because of this, but seemed to do better later. I was really loopy on whatever medicine they gave me and quite out of it, which is probably a blessing. If I were coherent I would have kept on the doctors and nurses until I had answers for all of my questions (and having gone through major medical problems with other babies I knew all the right questions to ask). I did grill the doctor about it later and he said Austin was without oxygen for about 5 minutes. He'd checked the cord blood and it looked fine so I shouldn't worry. It wasn't until he was about two and talking normally that I agreed that he was fine. He talked really late, so I was worried. Now we can't get him to be quiet.
During the c-section I kept saying to the anesthesiologist, "Hey guy standing at my head, I can't remember your name, but my shoulder hurts. Will you push on it?" And I kept saying stuff to the doctors like, "C‑sections are bad." and "I'm glad you are good doctors." I said to the one assisting, "Hey, I think you are my cousin's doctor." He asked me what her name was and I said, "I don't remember. It's not really important."
Hal said something because I couldn't finish one of my sentences and I said "That sounded like my husband." and they said "It is your husband." and I said "Where is he?" and they said "Holding your hand." I said "I was wondering who was holding my hand." Anyway, they ended up tying my tubes because of my pregnancy history and now my very weak uterus. I had actually talked to my doctor about it before, so was not upset, but it has by far caused worse pain than the c‑section. I wish I had the presence of mind at the time to talk the doctor into taking out a little extra stomach flab. If I weren't on so many drugs I would have tried.
Well the next day was a pretty ordinary recovery until in the afternoon, when I asked my nurse if I could take off a bandage they had wrapped around my elbow. She got this funny look and started ripping it off my arm. I got looking and my forearm was swelled to about 3 times its normal size. They were supposed to take it off the night before and it was too tight, like a tourniquet. It did go down eventually, but then I started getting a rash.
A few hours later, my legs started to itch. I looked and they were covered with all sorts of funny zigzagged red sores with raised white centers. I called the nurse and she got more people to come and look. The sores grew bigger until I had a few really big hives on me that covered most of the surface area of my legs. No one knew what to do so they gave me lots more Benadryl and Prednisone too. I didn't think that was a good idea for the baby, but was in no position to argue too much because it really itched. I did take digital pictures of my legs, although I didn't know what I would do with them. (Maybe for evidence?)
One of the nurses said “You better find out what you are allergic to or you may end up in anaphylactic shock. Do you know what that is?” I said “Why yes, I do happen to know what that is.” So that night passed and I actually got some sleep, the only night I did sleep at the hospital.
The next day the baby ended up with bad jaundice, so he was stuffed in the little light box most of the day and night, poor thing. The nurses did say that he was a lot calmer than most babies are in there. One thing that made me mad is that they sent us home after only 3 days (mostly because of overcrowding I think). I tried to argue, but then realized that if they didn't want us there, they probably wouldn't take very good care of us.
The release hours are about 6 hours short of when I had him, so I was probably only there closer to 2 1/2 days. I really dislike insurance. The kicker is, too, that they told me I would have to rent lights to take home for the baby and that once we left the hospital his deductible would kick in and I would have to pay an extra 500 dollars that I wouldn't have had to if we could have stayed.
I could tell the pediatrician felt really badly about it. He kept telling me to stay in my pajamas for at least a week so if people came to visit they would know that we weren't doing very well. My doctor didn't even show up the second day. I don't think he dared face me.
Anyway, we survived it all. Austin stayed under the lights (which looked suspiciously like a suitcase with a heat lamp retrofitted into it) another 3 days, with us taking him back to the hospital every day to have his bilirubin checked.
I had a huge amount of pain for many more days, especially where my tubes were and all across my insides. My incision on the outside wasn't too bad, although looking at the staples reminded me of Hitler and his experiments on the human body. I felt so sorry for the Jewish people and having no pain meds. I couldn't really even get in and out of bed by myself. Once I got up in the morning I just stayed out of bed because it hurt too much to climb back in.
I kept thinking that Austin was so good and slept so much except at about 2:00 a.m. when he was wide awake and I finally figured out that my pain meds were keeping him sedated and wore off at night. So I quit them all, cold turkey and decided it was better that way. He still stayed a pretty calm baby.
The first week was a blur of pain, and I didn't even think to do anything to take care of his cord, etc. but his cord fell off quicker than the girls’ and actually healed up better too.
One highlight of Austin's first few weeks of life is when I was changing him on the makeshift little table that was set up in my bedroom, right next to my dresser. It was an actual card table because I couldn't bend down for a long time. I was changing his diaper and I guess when I took off the old one it felt freeing to him because he wet in a big stream that arched right into my open dresser drawer. The girls got a big kick out of that. It would have been a lot funnier to me if I didn't have to wash everything of mine that was in the drawer.
We were certainly blessed and watched over that's for sure. I was quite relieved that he is my last baby. I don't think I could live through that experience again. But he is sure worth everything I have had to go through. A very sweet little boy, even from the very beginning.
Austin was due in September (8th or 9th, I can't remember now) 2004. It was a lousy pregnancy, like the others, with lots of throwing up, visits to the Perinatologist (for the Big C and Little E problems and to rule out physical abnormalities and watch the cysts on his brain).
One thing that made this pregnancy stand out from the others was the added bonus of having pneumonia twice. I was pretty sure I was going to have to resort to Depends eventually (please don't ask me to explain why).
A month before he was due, we decided to hurry and paint my bedroom. I was so tired that when I woke up in the middle of the night, I had to drag myself to the bathroom. I actually ended up getting rug burns on my stomach because it was so huge and dragged on the carpet. Isn't that sad!
We had just found out a week or so before that Austin was breech so we were looking at a possible c-section.
I went to the doctor on Monday the 16th of August (3 weeks before he was due) to talk about trying to turn him, but the number one reason to not turn them is if the placenta is in the front. It is too dangerous and that's where my placenta was (of course). (I was actually relieved to not have to make that decision for fear I would make the wrong choice and hurt the baby.) When he checked me, I was already at a 3 1/2 and also the cord was prolapsed (in the opening of the uterus), which is dangerous if your water breaks because it can compress the cord and cut off the oxygen. Also, the baby was getting really big for his age and the doctor was worried about that.
I had enough medical problems that he called the hospital to see about admitting me but they said I couldn't go up because they were too full. Also, he said I had eaten too recently for a c-section. So, he stripped my membranes and sent me home, saying that if I went into labor to just show up at the hospital, not call first so they wouldn't try to discourage me from coming in. He also said to call him in the morning if I didn't go into labor first and then he would try to fit me into the schedule.
Well, I did end up going into labor that started really slow and painless, but by the time I got Hal motivated to take me in, I was having really hard contractions every 5 minutes. They ran around fast at the hospital trying to get us ready and the anesthesiologist (it took an hour before he could get started) for some reason had a hard time with the epidural and I went numb all over and went into anaphylactic shock. My tongue started to swell up and I couldn't talk (this had happened before, so I knew exactly what was going on and wasn't happy). He then had to inject me with a lot of Benadryl to counteract the drug I was allergic to. Anyway, he finally got me all fixed up and the nurses came in and said my doctor went out of town and it would be another hour before he would get in and they were going to inject me with something to slow down the contractions. (Why did he strip my membranes and then go out of town? I have no idea.) Anyway, he finally showed up and they started the c‑section.
I was really loopy by now from all the different drugs. I remember I kept hearing myself saying really stupid things, but I couldn't really stop myself from saying them. After they got Austin's feet out, the doctors started acting funny and finally someone said "Get the forceps." and I said "You're not supposed to have to use forceps with a c‑section." Then he said "You just had a really big contraction and we can't get the baby's head out. I'm going to have to make a really big cut in your uterus." So he basically sliced it in two (with a vertical cut called a “j” cut) and got Austin out. (So, it would be safe to say I've earned my flabby stomach with both a horizontal AND a vertical cut. My poor abs don't really have a chance, do they?)
I kept asking what the baby's apgars were and everyone kept ignoring me. I finally found out later that they didn't want me to panic because his first number was a 1, which is practically dead. He ended up staying the first night in the ICU because of this, but seemed to do better later. I was really loopy on whatever medicine they gave me and quite out of it, which is probably a blessing. If I were coherent I would have kept on the doctors and nurses until I had answers for all of my questions (and having gone through major medical problems with other babies I knew all the right questions to ask). I did grill the doctor about it later and he said Austin was without oxygen for about 5 minutes. He'd checked the cord blood and it looked fine so I shouldn't worry. It wasn't until he was about two and talking normally that I agreed that he was fine. He talked really late, so I was worried. Now we can't get him to be quiet.
During the c-section I kept saying to the anesthesiologist, "Hey guy standing at my head, I can't remember your name, but my shoulder hurts. Will you push on it?" And I kept saying stuff to the doctors like, "C‑sections are bad." and "I'm glad you are good doctors." I said to the one assisting, "Hey, I think you are my cousin's doctor." He asked me what her name was and I said, "I don't remember. It's not really important."
Hal said something because I couldn't finish one of my sentences and I said "That sounded like my husband." and they said "It is your husband." and I said "Where is he?" and they said "Holding your hand." I said "I was wondering who was holding my hand." Anyway, they ended up tying my tubes because of my pregnancy history and now my very weak uterus. I had actually talked to my doctor about it before, so was not upset, but it has by far caused worse pain than the c‑section. I wish I had the presence of mind at the time to talk the doctor into taking out a little extra stomach flab. If I weren't on so many drugs I would have tried.
Well the next day was a pretty ordinary recovery until in the afternoon, when I asked my nurse if I could take off a bandage they had wrapped around my elbow. She got this funny look and started ripping it off my arm. I got looking and my forearm was swelled to about 3 times its normal size. They were supposed to take it off the night before and it was too tight, like a tourniquet. It did go down eventually, but then I started getting a rash.
A few hours later, my legs started to itch. I looked and they were covered with all sorts of funny zigzagged red sores with raised white centers. I called the nurse and she got more people to come and look. The sores grew bigger until I had a few really big hives on me that covered most of the surface area of my legs. No one knew what to do so they gave me lots more Benadryl and Prednisone too. I didn't think that was a good idea for the baby, but was in no position to argue too much because it really itched. I did take digital pictures of my legs, although I didn't know what I would do with them. (Maybe for evidence?)
One of the nurses said “You better find out what you are allergic to or you may end up in anaphylactic shock. Do you know what that is?” I said “Why yes, I do happen to know what that is.” So that night passed and I actually got some sleep, the only night I did sleep at the hospital.
The next day the baby ended up with bad jaundice, so he was stuffed in the little light box most of the day and night, poor thing. The nurses did say that he was a lot calmer than most babies are in there. One thing that made me mad is that they sent us home after only 3 days (mostly because of overcrowding I think). I tried to argue, but then realized that if they didn't want us there, they probably wouldn't take very good care of us.
The release hours are about 6 hours short of when I had him, so I was probably only there closer to 2 1/2 days. I really dislike insurance. The kicker is, too, that they told me I would have to rent lights to take home for the baby and that once we left the hospital his deductible would kick in and I would have to pay an extra 500 dollars that I wouldn't have had to if we could have stayed.
I could tell the pediatrician felt really badly about it. He kept telling me to stay in my pajamas for at least a week so if people came to visit they would know that we weren't doing very well. My doctor didn't even show up the second day. I don't think he dared face me.
Anyway, we survived it all. Austin stayed under the lights (which looked suspiciously like a suitcase with a heat lamp retrofitted into it) another 3 days, with us taking him back to the hospital every day to have his bilirubin checked.
I had a huge amount of pain for many more days, especially where my tubes were and all across my insides. My incision on the outside wasn't too bad, although looking at the staples reminded me of Hitler and his experiments on the human body. I felt so sorry for the Jewish people and having no pain meds. I couldn't really even get in and out of bed by myself. Once I got up in the morning I just stayed out of bed because it hurt too much to climb back in.
I kept thinking that Austin was so good and slept so much except at about 2:00 a.m. when he was wide awake and I finally figured out that my pain meds were keeping him sedated and wore off at night. So I quit them all, cold turkey and decided it was better that way. He still stayed a pretty calm baby.
The first week was a blur of pain, and I didn't even think to do anything to take care of his cord, etc. but his cord fell off quicker than the girls’ and actually healed up better too.
One highlight of Austin's first few weeks of life is when I was changing him on the makeshift little table that was set up in my bedroom, right next to my dresser. It was an actual card table because I couldn't bend down for a long time. I was changing his diaper and I guess when I took off the old one it felt freeing to him because he wet in a big stream that arched right into my open dresser drawer. The girls got a big kick out of that. It would have been a lot funnier to me if I didn't have to wash everything of mine that was in the drawer.
We were certainly blessed and watched over that's for sure. I was quite relieved that he is my last baby. I don't think I could live through that experience again. But he is sure worth everything I have had to go through. A very sweet little boy, even from the very beginning.
To Whom It May Concern:
I'm sorry, but I just have to get this off my chest once and for all:
I like the Pseudo Echo version of Funkytown much, much better than the original Lipps Inc. version. If you've never heard it, you must google it and listen to it immediately.
If you disagree, please comment here and we can debate it.
I love a nice lively debate where there are no facts to back you up, only personal opinion. At least I have a fighting chance that way.
I like the Pseudo Echo version of Funkytown much, much better than the original Lipps Inc. version. If you've never heard it, you must google it and listen to it immediately.
If you disagree, please comment here and we can debate it.
I love a nice lively debate where there are no facts to back you up, only personal opinion. At least I have a fighting chance that way.
Look What We Woke Up To
This morning we woke up and there was a LOT of snow. We weren't really even expecting it, though the weather said there was a 40 percent chance of it later today. Here's the view out our back window (there was no snow there yesterday):
And here's the view out our front window:
It is now 2:00 p.m. and the snow is almost 17" on our deck (and it's still snowing). Addendum: 18 1/2" at 3:30 and still coming down.
I wonder what it will be like tomorrow, after the BIG storm hits. (Can you say SNOW DAY?)
And here's the view out our front window:
It is now 2:00 p.m. and the snow is almost 17" on our deck (and it's still snowing). Addendum: 18 1/2" at 3:30 and still coming down.
I wonder what it will be like tomorrow, after the BIG storm hits. (Can you say SNOW DAY?)
My Personal Version of the 80/20 Rule
You know how they say that 80 percent of the time you use only 20 percent of your things? Well, that may be true.
I've also heard from a famous nutritionist that you should eat as well as you can 95 percent of the time so the other 5 percent you can eat whatever you want.
I've combined both of these theories to meet my own personal needs.
80 percent of the time I eat like this. (I forgot to put the dressing on before I took the photo. A salad like this needs dressing.):
So that the other 20 percent, I can eat things like this:
Works for me!
Juggling Dinners
We have a big problem in our house. Well, as you probably know by now, we have a lot of big problems. This one just happens to plague me every day.
It's dinner.
No two of the people in this house like the same things. Or, more specifically, they all dislike different things.
There is actually no single meal that everyone will eat. There was one once. It was a specific meatloaf recipe that I'd tried. Everyone actually ate it and liked it. Even the girl next door (who liked it because it was actually her aunt's recipe).
But then Ally threw up that night and hasn't touched the stuff since.
So here's the list so far:
Hal won't eat anything creamy, no creamy soups, no mayonnaise type sauces, no casseroles of any kind. He isn't fond of food mixed together. (One night a few years ago, at a Stake dinner, I told our neighbor that our girls said they didn't know what a casserole was - they really didn't. He actually high-fived Hal across the table.) Hal is, however, big on tacos. I could serve tacos every week and he would be happy. In fact, when I do serve tacos, he eats the leftovers for about a week because no one else really likes taco leftovers. Hal is Mr. Salad man (although he never eats dressing on his salads). He also likes a good baked potato. Hal likes to whip up a drink that he calls liquid health. The rest of us have another name for it (liquid he--). My smoothies taste a lot better than his. Hal is not fond of chicken, he's more of a ground beef sort of guy.
Morgan is pretty good about eating. She'll eat a lot of the same things I will, which is pretty much anything. (Except I don't like warm tuna casserole, I'm not fond of that at all, or peanut butter sandwiches. I wouldn't eat a peanut butter sandwich for $100.00 - well, maybe these days I'd try to choke one down. The funny thing is that I like candy with peanut butter in it and I'll eat it in my oatmeal along with banana flavored protein powder. Morgan will eat peanut butter sandwiches, so we are different that way.) Morgan will only eat eggs if they don't taste like eggs (also like me).
Ally won't eat things with tomatoes. That pretty much rules out lots of soups, spaghetti (she eats plain noodles), sauces, etc. She will, however devour pizza, which makes no sense to me. She also doesn't like to eat cheese on top of things, which makes her love of pizza even more perplexing. Ally is the one who comes home from school and eats everything in sight. Then she's too full to eat a good dinner. She does love apples and toast. She also likes chicken nuggets and fish sticks.
Austin is Mr. Grilled Cheese. He requests grilled cheese sandwiches every day for lunch. He also loves chicken nuggets. I usually tell him he has to eat a fruit and/or a vegetable before he can eat anything else. He will eat baby carrots. He's the only one of the kids who will eat any kind of dressing or sauce on things. He's also big on ketchup and eats it on all sorts of strange things, like toast and carrots. He's the most resistant at trying new things. Sometimes he'll try something new and declare, "I love it!" and then not touch it again, ever.
So what I have to do for dinner is juggle. First I'll make something Hal likes, like tacos, and then make sure there are enough leftovers for later in the week. The next night I'll make something Ally will eat, like corn chowder. After that I do something plain, like turkey steaks or baked chicken. Once in a while I'll throw in a new recipe to see if anyone likes it. When I do that, I have to make sure there are enough of a variety of leftovers to feed everyone with their different tastes.
I used to have people eat cereal when they didn't like what I fixed but now I think they eat too much cereal, so it's pretty much grilled cheese and an apple if they get desperate. If I'm lucky, they'll clean up after themselves.
Can anyone else understand why I'm exhausted? I think I need to take myself out to dinner since Hal doesn't like to eat out. (And why would he when he has a perfectly good short-order cook at home?)
It's dinner.
No two of the people in this house like the same things. Or, more specifically, they all dislike different things.
There is actually no single meal that everyone will eat. There was one once. It was a specific meatloaf recipe that I'd tried. Everyone actually ate it and liked it. Even the girl next door (who liked it because it was actually her aunt's recipe).
But then Ally threw up that night and hasn't touched the stuff since.
So here's the list so far:
Hal won't eat anything creamy, no creamy soups, no mayonnaise type sauces, no casseroles of any kind. He isn't fond of food mixed together. (One night a few years ago, at a Stake dinner, I told our neighbor that our girls said they didn't know what a casserole was - they really didn't. He actually high-fived Hal across the table.) Hal is, however, big on tacos. I could serve tacos every week and he would be happy. In fact, when I do serve tacos, he eats the leftovers for about a week because no one else really likes taco leftovers. Hal is Mr. Salad man (although he never eats dressing on his salads). He also likes a good baked potato. Hal likes to whip up a drink that he calls liquid health. The rest of us have another name for it (liquid he--). My smoothies taste a lot better than his. Hal is not fond of chicken, he's more of a ground beef sort of guy.
Morgan is pretty good about eating. She'll eat a lot of the same things I will, which is pretty much anything. (Except I don't like warm tuna casserole, I'm not fond of that at all, or peanut butter sandwiches. I wouldn't eat a peanut butter sandwich for $100.00 - well, maybe these days I'd try to choke one down. The funny thing is that I like candy with peanut butter in it and I'll eat it in my oatmeal along with banana flavored protein powder. Morgan will eat peanut butter sandwiches, so we are different that way.) Morgan will only eat eggs if they don't taste like eggs (also like me).
Ally won't eat things with tomatoes. That pretty much rules out lots of soups, spaghetti (she eats plain noodles), sauces, etc. She will, however devour pizza, which makes no sense to me. She also doesn't like to eat cheese on top of things, which makes her love of pizza even more perplexing. Ally is the one who comes home from school and eats everything in sight. Then she's too full to eat a good dinner. She does love apples and toast. She also likes chicken nuggets and fish sticks.
Austin is Mr. Grilled Cheese. He requests grilled cheese sandwiches every day for lunch. He also loves chicken nuggets. I usually tell him he has to eat a fruit and/or a vegetable before he can eat anything else. He will eat baby carrots. He's the only one of the kids who will eat any kind of dressing or sauce on things. He's also big on ketchup and eats it on all sorts of strange things, like toast and carrots. He's the most resistant at trying new things. Sometimes he'll try something new and declare, "I love it!" and then not touch it again, ever.
So what I have to do for dinner is juggle. First I'll make something Hal likes, like tacos, and then make sure there are enough leftovers for later in the week. The next night I'll make something Ally will eat, like corn chowder. After that I do something plain, like turkey steaks or baked chicken. Once in a while I'll throw in a new recipe to see if anyone likes it. When I do that, I have to make sure there are enough of a variety of leftovers to feed everyone with their different tastes.
I used to have people eat cereal when they didn't like what I fixed but now I think they eat too much cereal, so it's pretty much grilled cheese and an apple if they get desperate. If I'm lucky, they'll clean up after themselves.
Can anyone else understand why I'm exhausted? I think I need to take myself out to dinner since Hal doesn't like to eat out. (And why would he when he has a perfectly good short-order cook at home?)
Nice Surprise
I need to make a note of this because it rarely happens that I am surprised in a good way.
Yesterday I went to take a 1-2 hour nap. I woke up 4 hours later when Hal looked in on me to make sure I was still alive.
I dragged myself out of bed, steeling myself to face a houseful of hungry people.
To my surprise, Hal told me they had just put away dinner, but it should still be slightly warm.
While I was asleep, Morgan and Ally made spaghetti (they even followed an actual recipe!). They also kept Austin out of my hair, which is a big feat in itself.
This may be my best Daylight Savings day ever.
(Note to self for next year: If you take a 4 hour nap during the day, it makes it awfully hard to fall asleep at night, therefore making it just as hard to wake up the next morning.)
Yesterday I went to take a 1-2 hour nap. I woke up 4 hours later when Hal looked in on me to make sure I was still alive.
I dragged myself out of bed, steeling myself to face a houseful of hungry people.
To my surprise, Hal told me they had just put away dinner, but it should still be slightly warm.
While I was asleep, Morgan and Ally made spaghetti (they even followed an actual recipe!). They also kept Austin out of my hair, which is a big feat in itself.
This may be my best Daylight Savings day ever.
(Note to self for next year: If you take a 4 hour nap during the day, it makes it awfully hard to fall asleep at night, therefore making it just as hard to wake up the next morning.)
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Daylight Savings and 9:00 Church
Can you already see where there might be a problem?
Well, anyway, in an effort to make things not too difficult this morning, I set all the clocks forward last night at about 6:30. I also packed the church bag last night and set out my clothes and took a shower last night because I knew it was not going to be an easy morning. We all were actually in bed by 10:30 (old time) last night too. I did about all I could do, so I hoped it would be enough.
So this morning, at 6:00 (new time) I heard Austin talking to Hal. I finally figured out what he was saying. It was "My pajamas are all wet. I think I wet the bed." (He did.)
I'm not proud of what I did next. I pretended to still be asleep. (I decided to do this when I realized that it was really 5:00 a.m. old time. And plus, Hal was already up.) Hal got Austin some dry clothes and then Austin got in bed with me while Hal finished getting ready and went to the church for his 6:30 a.m. meetings (ouch). Austin then started asking for his darn colored pencil that he had slept with (yes, he still takes one or two of them with him wherever he goes, even to bed). Luckily I found one on the floor so he fell asleep pretty quickly. Unfortunately, I didn't. (Maybe it's payback for pretending to be asleep when this whole business started.)
I finally fell back asleep sometime after 7:00, which made it a pain when the alarm went off at 7:30. I hit what I thought was the snooze button and promptly dozed off again. Unfortunately, I woke up again about a half hour later, which was going to crunch us for time.
Morgan was already up and getting ready. Ally was sleeping with a blanket wrapped all the way over her face, as usual. I gave her her first warning and then hurried and got dressed and got Austin's clothes and had him start to get dressed. Since I washed my hair last night, it looked all weird today and wouldn't curl. I ended up putting it up and it looked kind of like a messy bird's nest but it would have to do.
We finally got everyone all up and dressed. I had to decide between eating breakfast or being on time, so the whole time during church I was starving. That gave me a headache, which wasn't helped by the fact that we sat behind a 14 year old kid who apparently didn't have time to take a shower this morning either. (For the record, I did have on deodorant. I also had on perfume, which didn't help my headache much either.) The kids behind us must have had a hard time adjusting to the time too because they cried the whole time. I should have brought some aspirin to take with my Sacrament water.
I could have gone home during Sunday School to eat, but I really like my Sunday School class these days. It's the Marriage and Family Relations class, taught by Brother and Sister Sidwell. In the spirit of that class, I apologized to Hal for pretending to be asleep this morning. I decided to tough it out and stay for Relief Society too and I'm glad I did. It was a good lesson given by Carol Searle.
We came home and I promptly ate some mini-wheats to make up for missing breakfast. I will now go eat some lunch kind of food and take a nap (and hopefully get rid of my headache).
Hope you had a nice Daylight Savings Sunday.
Well, anyway, in an effort to make things not too difficult this morning, I set all the clocks forward last night at about 6:30. I also packed the church bag last night and set out my clothes and took a shower last night because I knew it was not going to be an easy morning. We all were actually in bed by 10:30 (old time) last night too. I did about all I could do, so I hoped it would be enough.
So this morning, at 6:00 (new time) I heard Austin talking to Hal. I finally figured out what he was saying. It was "My pajamas are all wet. I think I wet the bed." (He did.)
I'm not proud of what I did next. I pretended to still be asleep. (I decided to do this when I realized that it was really 5:00 a.m. old time. And plus, Hal was already up.) Hal got Austin some dry clothes and then Austin got in bed with me while Hal finished getting ready and went to the church for his 6:30 a.m. meetings (ouch). Austin then started asking for his darn colored pencil that he had slept with (yes, he still takes one or two of them with him wherever he goes, even to bed). Luckily I found one on the floor so he fell asleep pretty quickly. Unfortunately, I didn't. (Maybe it's payback for pretending to be asleep when this whole business started.)
I finally fell back asleep sometime after 7:00, which made it a pain when the alarm went off at 7:30. I hit what I thought was the snooze button and promptly dozed off again. Unfortunately, I woke up again about a half hour later, which was going to crunch us for time.
Morgan was already up and getting ready. Ally was sleeping with a blanket wrapped all the way over her face, as usual. I gave her her first warning and then hurried and got dressed and got Austin's clothes and had him start to get dressed. Since I washed my hair last night, it looked all weird today and wouldn't curl. I ended up putting it up and it looked kind of like a messy bird's nest but it would have to do.
We finally got everyone all up and dressed. I had to decide between eating breakfast or being on time, so the whole time during church I was starving. That gave me a headache, which wasn't helped by the fact that we sat behind a 14 year old kid who apparently didn't have time to take a shower this morning either. (For the record, I did have on deodorant. I also had on perfume, which didn't help my headache much either.) The kids behind us must have had a hard time adjusting to the time too because they cried the whole time. I should have brought some aspirin to take with my Sacrament water.
I could have gone home during Sunday School to eat, but I really like my Sunday School class these days. It's the Marriage and Family Relations class, taught by Brother and Sister Sidwell. In the spirit of that class, I apologized to Hal for pretending to be asleep this morning. I decided to tough it out and stay for Relief Society too and I'm glad I did. It was a good lesson given by Carol Searle.
We came home and I promptly ate some mini-wheats to make up for missing breakfast. I will now go eat some lunch kind of food and take a nap (and hopefully get rid of my headache).
Hope you had a nice Daylight Savings Sunday.
Failing To Keep My Composure
Last week as I was driving Ally to karate, I yawned while I was driving. A really big yawn, the kind you end with kind of an Elvis sneer. You wouldn't think this would be a big deal except I kept both hands on the wheel, as a good driver should, so I didn't cover my mouth. (I was actually being lazy, not worrying about my driving habits. I realize now that I should have covered my mouth. I was just too tired.)
None of this would really be noteworthy except for the fact that I passed another car when it happened. I remember seeing the guy's face in the other car. I think he thought I was making a really ugly face at him. How embarrassing!
This actually reminded me of something that happened in Relief Society a few years ago.
I was the Relief Society secretary. Carol Searle was the president then. She is a WONDERFUL person and I enjoyed spending time with her and also Melissa Houser and Sue Giles, the counselors. They all brought such good, different qualities to the table. I learned a lot from each one of them. Not sure if I contributed much, except in the way of a little comic relief every now and then.
Here was one of those times:
Norene Brown is our Relief Society chorister. She is a very formidable woman and I don't think I would be exaggerating if I said most people are a little afraid of her. (I actually really like her a lot. She has a good sense of humor and tells it like it is. I may actually grow up to be like her someday, except I don't think anyone is afraid of me, not even my own kids.) Sometimes when we sing in Relief Society she stops us and makes us start over if she thinks we aren't doing a song justice. She's very particular about her music and lets us know if we aren't doing our part.
One Sunday we were singing a new song. Sister Brown started getting after us because it didn't sound as good as she thought it should. She stopped the pianist and said "I want all you good singers to help us out." She then singled out Melissa Wootton and chastised her for not singing.
"I'm sorry," said Melissa, "but I have a sour mint in my mouth. I'll sing in a minute."
Well, for some reason that struck me as funny. I started to giggle. Unfortunately since I was the R.S. secretary, I had to sit up front, facing most of the other women. (We all sat in a row. First Carol (who may or may not have been there that day, I can't quite remember) then Melissa H. (who I know was there, I can still see the looks she was giving us), then poor Sue and then me. The reason I say "poor Sue" is because I soon dragged her down with me.)
What Melissa W. had said reminded me of the Sour Starburst commercial where a girl comes down the stairs and her prom date is waiting. She looks all nice and dressed up, but right at the moment her date sees her, he pops a sour Starburst in his mouth so he makes a really ugly face. The girl's dad sees the boy's expression and gets really mad. The final line is "Sour Starburst, eat responsibly."
When I started giggling, Sue asked me what was so funny. I tried quietly to explain the sour Starburst commercial as quickly as possible. Soon Sue was giggling too. Sister Brown stopped the music and asked us if there was anything we wanted to share with everybody else. We swiftly assured her there was not.
Well, that was the end of my composure. As the women started singing again, I started giggling, which set Sue off again. I was laughing so hard that I had tears streaming down my cheeks. I had to hold the Hymn book up right in front of my face so Sister Brown wouldn't see and get after me again. I was really afraid that I was going to burst out laughing really loud. I think that was the longest song we have ever sung in Relief Society.
I almost lost it again when Melissa H. turned to Sue and asked, "What was so funny." All through the lesson I had to keep biting my lip to control myself from giggling again. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.
I do miss working with those women, but I don't really miss sitting up front.
None of this would really be noteworthy except for the fact that I passed another car when it happened. I remember seeing the guy's face in the other car. I think he thought I was making a really ugly face at him. How embarrassing!
This actually reminded me of something that happened in Relief Society a few years ago.
I was the Relief Society secretary. Carol Searle was the president then. She is a WONDERFUL person and I enjoyed spending time with her and also Melissa Houser and Sue Giles, the counselors. They all brought such good, different qualities to the table. I learned a lot from each one of them. Not sure if I contributed much, except in the way of a little comic relief every now and then.
Here was one of those times:
Norene Brown is our Relief Society chorister. She is a very formidable woman and I don't think I would be exaggerating if I said most people are a little afraid of her. (I actually really like her a lot. She has a good sense of humor and tells it like it is. I may actually grow up to be like her someday, except I don't think anyone is afraid of me, not even my own kids.) Sometimes when we sing in Relief Society she stops us and makes us start over if she thinks we aren't doing a song justice. She's very particular about her music and lets us know if we aren't doing our part.
One Sunday we were singing a new song. Sister Brown started getting after us because it didn't sound as good as she thought it should. She stopped the pianist and said "I want all you good singers to help us out." She then singled out Melissa Wootton and chastised her for not singing.
"I'm sorry," said Melissa, "but I have a sour mint in my mouth. I'll sing in a minute."
Well, for some reason that struck me as funny. I started to giggle. Unfortunately since I was the R.S. secretary, I had to sit up front, facing most of the other women. (We all sat in a row. First Carol (who may or may not have been there that day, I can't quite remember) then Melissa H. (who I know was there, I can still see the looks she was giving us), then poor Sue and then me. The reason I say "poor Sue" is because I soon dragged her down with me.)
What Melissa W. had said reminded me of the Sour Starburst commercial where a girl comes down the stairs and her prom date is waiting. She looks all nice and dressed up, but right at the moment her date sees her, he pops a sour Starburst in his mouth so he makes a really ugly face. The girl's dad sees the boy's expression and gets really mad. The final line is "Sour Starburst, eat responsibly."
When I started giggling, Sue asked me what was so funny. I tried quietly to explain the sour Starburst commercial as quickly as possible. Soon Sue was giggling too. Sister Brown stopped the music and asked us if there was anything we wanted to share with everybody else. We swiftly assured her there was not.
Well, that was the end of my composure. As the women started singing again, I started giggling, which set Sue off again. I was laughing so hard that I had tears streaming down my cheeks. I had to hold the Hymn book up right in front of my face so Sister Brown wouldn't see and get after me again. I was really afraid that I was going to burst out laughing really loud. I think that was the longest song we have ever sung in Relief Society.
I almost lost it again when Melissa H. turned to Sue and asked, "What was so funny." All through the lesson I had to keep biting my lip to control myself from giggling again. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.
I do miss working with those women, but I don't really miss sitting up front.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
