Question:
Is it possible to watch Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory before going to bed and wake up the next day without singing "I've got a golden ticket?"

Yesterday morning I woke to the feel of something cool and almost slimy rubbing the bottom of my foot. Sophie said "Hi Mama!" She was happily rubbing John's deodorant on me. It wasn't even 6 am yet.

Later she grabbed a fairly new block of cheddar cheese from the fridge. Now Soph is the kind of independent girl who only wants the cookie/chip/cracker if she herself removes it from the box with her own hand. If I give her the cookie/chip/cracker she will throw it. Usually this is followed by a screaming fit, which may include headbanging and fingerpointing while yelling "You bad girl!" In all fairness, I should say that she always shares and is generally quite sweet. The cheese. She carried it to the kid sized table in the kitchen. She unwrapped it and started eating it. I offered to cut a piece off for her, so she hugged the cheese to her chest and said "Nooooooo, miiiiiiine!" Call it a misjudgment on my part, but I was too tired to really care enough to take it from her. I knew she was tired and decided to get her to take a nap and deal with the cheese after she was asleep. I got her to follow me to the bedroom and she went down quickly. When I came out of the room, Nathan



was running around with the long tube extension from the vacuum cleaner and was using it as a gun. On the business end of the gun was the block of cheese. After a little bit of yelling on my part (Nathan! That's organic cheese from Whole Foods, that stuff is expensive and why did you put cheese on the end of your gun???), he removed the cheese. It had a big hole in it, and the tube was full of cheese. Yuck. After we finished cleaning the tube, I noticed that he'd filled the hole in the cheese with oreo husks, left over from Sophie who, of course, only eats the filling. (That's why I buy the Trader Joe's brand oreos, the filling is not as bad for you.) But wait, it gets better!

Later, Sophie dragged a chair to the kitchen counter while I was changing Willow and John was busy with the boys. She picked the counter area with the toaster. Lexy's Lord of the Rings cards were also on the counter. Yes. She toasted Legolas and almost started a fire. We now are sure to unplug the toaster. Shortly after that, my mom came and took the three big children to see the Piglet movie. Sophie sat on Granny's lap the whole time quietly, and ate popcorn and drank sprite. She didn't spill or scream or cause the least bit of trouble. Today we are catching our breath while she spends the day at her dad's house.

Oh, two more things: 1. It's Saturday now so, Happy Birthday to my sister Ashley who is twenty-one. Unbelievable. She went to Vegas for the weekend, though I'm mostly sure she doesn't drink and I don't really see her as a gambler. I pray she's not there for the Celine Dion show. 2. I was trying to spruce up the 'comment' tag and I think I erased all the comments. Oops.

It's Friday.(at least it was yesterday)

1. What was your most memorable moment from the last week?
I read the local paper every morning (or at least before bedtime). On the second page of the front page section they have a little gossip column and news of the weird. Since I can recall, the advertisement in the top left corner of this page has been for Tiffany's. So, I sip my coffee, read about celebrity X and strange happenings, and then look at the nice cufflinks or pearl necklace or (my favorite) the diamond rings. Since the beginning of this war, the gossip/news of the weird section has been moved to the end of the section and replaced by war coverage. But the Tiffany's ad has stayed. This morning (here's the memorable moment part) I opened the paper and saw a black and white photograph of a table. The photo was taken from above, and the dishes and some flatbread were strewn across the table. There seemed to be dust over everything. There were pretty bowls with intricate designs around the rims. The caption said that a mother and her young children were killed by a bomb that struck their home. This was a picture of their breakfast, left unfinished. Then I looked at the blurry Tiffany's ad and kissed the top of Willow's head while she nursed. This has got to end soon.

2. What one person touched your life this week?
I have to pick one???

3. How have you helped someone this week?
I've been helped more than I have helped others. But last week I delivered the photos I'd taken of another baby in the NICU to his mom. This made her very, very happy.

4. What one thing do you need to get done by this time next week?
Thank you notes for the wedding. They need to be done by the end of November at the latest. That would be November of 2002.

5. What one thing will you do over the next seven days to make your world a better place?
I'll have to let you know next week.


Willow is now 5lbs 5oz and is 19 and a half inches long. I always want to say "tall" instead of "long." Babies aren't snakes. Anyway, she's grown 3 and a half inches in a month. Yay, Willow!

Today Sophie asked for "tinky, la la, po," so I put in the Teletubbies tape. Nathan walked out of the living room disgusted and found me in the kitchen making lunch (spaghettio's (organic, but yes, out of a can) and red bell peppers). He said, "Can we turn off the frickin' Teletubbies?" I had to turn around and pretend to be doing something at the counter so he wouldn't see me laughing. I also had to remind him that we don't use the word frickin' because it makes us sound uneducated (which, technically, he is). "Frickin' Teletubbies," (Why is that so funny to me??) he's getting old, I guess.

John's credit card company has been persistently calling for him. I'm always really busy when they do, so instead of asking them politely to not call back, I just say he isn't in and that I'm not on his account. They've called a lot lately. This morning they got serious and had their best worker call. She had a sweet southern accent and started in on her spiel by telling me that she was calling with the JC Penny's card company.
Me: Which card? We don't have a . . .
Best Telemarketer Ever: Oh, wait, honey sweetie baby, I mean Chase. Chase Visa, honey. To show our appreciation love, we are going to give you three free months of (blah blah blah)
Me: (unable to say I'm not interested to someone who's pelting me with pet names) Can you call back and talk to my husband? I'm not on this account.
BTM: Of course, darlin'. I'll call back at a better time, honey.

I still feel all warm and fuzzy over it.

"And where ever you would like the comments link to appear place this code:"

Okay, an hour and more later I finally managed to do that. I'm driving with my eyes shut when it comes to blogging. I actually switched to a new template because I couldn't fix what I did to mine. I think it's okay now. If no one ever comments I'll sulk.

I have been shopping for Easter stuff and getting cranky with Amazon. Should stick with Chinaberry. Look what my mom got my sister for her upcoming 21st birthday. Wish I was doing that kind of shopping.

I made it back to Old Navy, but I'm too short and fat for any of their pants. Fooey.

If you haven't seen it yet, Where is Raed? has been updated. Of course I feel like a total ass for complaining about the size of my ass when people have real things destroying their lives. It's difficult knowing what to say or do these days. Seems like many people feel they are seeing too much war coverage and want some normalcy so they can breathe easier. At the same time, normalcy feels so trivial. Here's some trivial stuff:

It's This or That Tuesday.

1. Poetry or prose?
Used to be poetry, but recently it's become prose.

2. Funky modern art or the older, "classic" variety?
Depends. That's comparing apples and oranges, really.

3. Sculptures or paintings?
Again . . .

4. Theatre: exuberant musical or serious drama?
Serious drama.

5. Ballet or modern dance?
Modern dance.

6. Movies: major studio or indie?
Indie!!!

7. Authors: Shakespeare or Dr. Seuss?
Wasn't Shakespeare really Dr. Seuss? Or am I thinking of Queen Elizabeth?

8. TV: PBS or A&E?
PBS, never saw Mr. Rogers on A&E

9. Music: Beethoven or Beatles?
Beethoven.

10. Thought-provoking question of the week: You are a contributing member of your favorite art museum, and visit on a regular basis. They announce a new, temporary special exhibit by an artist surrounded by controversy...this person's work and/or political views offend you. Do you stop supporting the museum, or just stay away during the time the exhibit is there?
I wouldn't stop supporting the museum. Call me silly, but I sort of value that whole freedom of speech and expression thing. I may even go check it out, depending on why I was offended, just to keep myself from getting stale. (Or to give me more mud to sling at said artist!)



Every child needs a cool uncle to provide her with extra-stylish bibs!

I really hate it when the gardeners next door pile all the palm tree fronds onto our lawn. Yes, the tree is on our side of the fence, but we didn't plant it there and it would take just as much energy for them to put the fronds into their yard waste bin as it would to put them on our lawn. It also probably would have taken me about as much energy and time to just go do it myself as it did to relate the story here.

The 3 older kids were at their dad's house today. When I read the Sunday paper I saw that Old Navy has capri length, drawstring waist, linen pants on sale for 20 bucks. I'm a little tired of maternity pants, so tonight I left Willow and John at home and headed out to get pants and Indian food for dinner. I got to Old Navy at 6:58 by my clock and they had already locked up. I don't get lots of opportunities to run out and shop, so I was pretty disappointed. As I stood there, a guy who'd ridden up on his motorcycle (we'll say, to enhance the story, that he was really attractive) approached the door.

Motorcycle Guy: Are they closed already?
Me: Yes, but it's not quite seven o'clock.
MG: Dang, I could be buying underwear.
Me: Yeah, I need to get some pants because I just had a baby and none of mine fit.
MG: You did not!
Me: Yes, she's three weeks old.
MG: All the other women must hate you.

Do I even have to point out how much we love the motorcycle guy??

When Lexy was about 5 months old my mom's parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. I flew to Texas with my mom and the baby to celebrate. While we were there Poppa, my grandfather, was holding Lexy and talking to him. He made this sort of whistling sound with his tongue and teeth. It's hard to explain, but think of it as whistling inside your mouth instead of with your lips. Yeah, that. I remember him making that sound when I was little, too. During Willow's stay in the NICU one of my favorite nurses, Sue, started to make that noise and also little clicking sounds while she held the baby. "Look at how she likes that," she said, "see her stop and listen? All the preemies love to hear those sounds. I don't know why, but they do." Later on, when I heard the story of the teddy bear, I thought of it as more proof that Poppa was there with us.

I know it's not Tuesday but I am up anyway so . . .

1. Cold frosty ski slopes or warm sandy beach?
Beach!!
2. Chevy or Ford?
Chevy (I'm not into cars, unless it's a Shelby Cobra -- the real item, no kit cars)
3. Mac or PC?
I have a PC because it was given to me for free.
4. Dial-up or high speed internet access?
Dial up, on our home phone line no less. What can I say? We're luddites.
5. Small *family-only* wedding or large 200+ guest wedding?
We had family and a small amount of friends, under 100 people.
6. Would you rather be the bridesmaid or the bride? (if you are a guy, substitute best man or groom)
Bride. But in all fairness I must disclose that I've never been a bridesmaid. No one has ever asked me. sniff pout
7. AC/DC or ABBA?
How can I choose?? John's friend M did a lovely cover of "Knowing Me, Knowing You" for an ABBA tribute. The kids and I have been listening to it in the van. When M came over to see Willow yesterday, Nate told him what a good singer he is.
8. Roses or daisies?
Daisies (and Bachelor Buttons)
9. Trashy romance novels or classic literature?
Classics
10. NEW! Thought-provoking question of the week...If you had to choose one...would you rather be blind or deaf? Why?
Who can pick? I'll probably end up deaf before I go, so I'll chose that.

It isn't Friday either.

1. If you had the chance to meet someone you've never met, from the past or present, who would it be?
John as a little kid.

2. If you had to live in a different century, past or future, which would it be?
Future, maybe 2100's. The past is romanticised, but women had loads more work to do and far fewer freedoms.

3. If you had to move anywhere else on Earth, where would it be?
Belize or New Mexico or Portland, Ore

4. If you had to be a fictional character, who would it be?
One of the Crow Girls.

5. If you had to live with having someone else's face as your own for the rest of your life, whose would it be?
Iman or Audrey Hepburn

I talked with my cousin today who told me that he and his girlfriend had declared it a "work in the yard, CNN-free day." I find that I'm hiding the newspaper from the kids and feeling even better about the decision to not have cable. (I thought I'd miss "my shows," but it's been nearly a year an a half and I only miss The Sopranos.) I've been reading Where is Raed? along with a few other web offerings. We had cable through October of 2001, and after the September air attacks I saw those images too much. Every time I closed my eyes it was right there. But at the same time, I saw it so often that the images almost became normal or commonplace. It wasn't until I met someone who lost her sister-in-law (who was her best friend, too) in the World Trade Center that it became concrete for me. Now I've realized that not watching all the images of this war over and over has made it very real for me. I can't not think about it, which is ironic since by not following everything through the mainstream media it seems as if I'm ignoring things. I'll never understand the thinking behind war. John and I have been watching Grave of the Fireflies in brief installments here and there when we have a minute. It is beautiful but so painful to watch. Oh, I'm not really sure what I'm trying to say here. I know war is as old as humanity, but it will never make any sense to me.

I bought rice paper rolls from the Whole Foods deli yesterday. (Rice paper wraps with rice noodles, carrots, tofu, lettuce, mint and cilantro with a side of tahini.) I thought they were 3.49 a pound, but it was 3.49 each. I got four. When I got home I was a little cranky to see I'd spent 13.96 on four rice paper rolls. Oh well, I just need to pay more attention. The funny thing is that the ziplock bag they came in has a little message down at the bottom: "This resealable deli bag will keep your cold cuts and cheese fresh and flavorful in your refrigerator by resealing the top of the bag with the recloseable zipper." Now THAT'S some bag!

This made me laugh really hard. I realized that I haven't done that in awhile and it felt good.

Here's a copied letter from Michael Moore. I didn't ask to reprint it, but I'm not selling it either.

Monday, March 17th, 2003

George W. Bush
1600 Pennsylvania Ave.
Washington, DC

Dear Governor Bush:

So today is what you call "the moment of truth," the day that "France
and the rest of world have to show their cards on the table." I'm glad
to hear that this day has finally arrived. Because, I gotta tell ya,
having survived 440 days of your lying and conniving, I wasn't sure if I
could take much more. So I'm glad to hear that today is Truth Day,
'cause I got a few truths I would like to share with you:

1. There is virtually NO ONE in America (talk radio nutters and Fox
News aside) who is gung-ho to go to war. Trust me on this one. Walk out of
the White House and on to any street in America and try to find five
people who are PASSIONATE about wanting to kill Iraqis. YOU WON'T FIND
THEM! Why? 'Cause NO Iraqis have ever come here and killed any of us! No
Iraqi has even threatened to do that. You see, this is how we average
Americans think: If a certain so-and-so is not perceived as a threat to
our lives, then, believe it or not, we don't want to kill him! Funny
how that works!

2. The majority of Americans -- the ones who never elected you -- are
not fooled by your weapons of mass distraction. We know what the real
issues are that affect our daily lives -- and none of them begin with I
or end in Q. Here's what threatens us: two and a half million jobs lost
since you took office, the stock market having become a cruel joke, no
one knowing if their retirement funds are going to be there, gas now
costs two dollars a gallon -- the list goes on and on. Bombing Iraq will
not make any of this go away. Only you need to go away for things to
improve.

3. As Bill Maher said last week, how bad do you have to suck to lose a
popularity contest with Saddam Hussein? The whole world is against you,
Mr. Bush. Count your fellow Americans among them.

4. The Pope has said this war is wrong, that it is a SIN. The Pope! But
even worse, the Dixie Chicks have now come out against you! How bad
does it have to get before you realize that you are an army of one on this
war? Of course, this is a war you personally won't have to fight. Just
like when you went AWOL while the poor were shipped to Vietnam in your
place.

5. Of the 535 members of Congress, only ONE (Sen. Johnson of South
Dakota) has an enlisted son or daughter in the armed forces! If you really
want to stand up for America, please send your twin daughters over to
Kuwait right now and let them don their chemical warfare suits. And
let's see every member of Congress with a child of military age also
sacrifice their kids for this war effort. What's that you say? You don't
THINK so? Well, hey, guess what -- we don't think so either!

6. Finally, we love France. Yes, they have pulled some royal screw-ups.
Yes, some of them can be pretty damn annoying. But have you forgotten
we wouldn't even have this country known as America if it weren't for
the French? That it was their help in the Revolutionary War that won it
for us? That it was France who gave us our Statue of Liberty, a
Frenchman who built the Chevrolet, and a pair of French brothers who invented
the movies? And now they are doing what only a good friend can do --
tell you the truth about yourself, straight, no b.s. Quit pissing on the
French and thank them for getting it right for once. You know, you
really should have traveled more (like once) before you took over. Your
ignorance of the world has not only made you look stupid, it has painted
you into a corner you can't get out of.

Well, cheer up -- there IS good news. If you do go through with this
war, more than likely it will be over soon because I'm guessing there
aren't a lot of Iraqis willing to lay down their lives to protect Saddam
Hussein. After you "win" the war, you will enjoy a huge bump in the
popularity polls as everyone loves a winner -- and who doesn't like to see
a good ass-whoopin' every now and then (especially when it 's some
third world ass!). And just like with Afghanistan, we'll forget about what
happens to a country after we bomb it 'cause that is just too complex!
So try your best to ride this victory all the way to next year's
election. Of course, that's still a long ways away, so we'll all get to have
a good hardy-har-har while we watch the economy sink even further down
the toilet!

But, hey, who knows -- maybe you'll find Osama a few days before the
election! See, start thinking like THAT! Keep hope alive! Kill Iraqis --
they got our oil!!

Yours,

Michael Moore
www.michaelmoore.com

Sophie wants to know when we're going to get the hint that this is her baby and hand it over for good. She still permits us to do the feeding and changing, but she's taking notes for later on. I'm so relieved that she doesn't show signs of being jealous. Not yet, anyway.

So, yesterday I called United Air Comfort to clean out our heating vent ducts. We all wake up around here with stuffy noses, so we thought it would be a good idea. They said they could come the following day between 1 and 5 pm. They showed up much earlier than they were supposed to (10 am), and were rewarded by seeing the house in about the worst possible state it can be in, along with me in a really dirty spit-up-upon t-shirt, no bra, and maternity yoga pants that are too long. I hadn't really had a chance yet to shower, or brush my hair or even my teeth. Oh yeah, it was grim. There were crumbs and syrup on the table and floor in the kitchen, a sinkful of dishes, dirty laundry piled up by the washer and mostly blocking the entrance to my bedroom. Toys everywhere, of course, along with dirty dishtowels, shoes, jackets, mail, half a pickle, partially eaten cookies. . . you get the idea. John was still sleeping, too. So, they go to every vent and clean it out, then hook up the "Negative Air Machine," (umm, okay) and let it run for about fifteen minutes. During this time, they clean out the thingie in the hall ceiling that sucks air into the system to heat it up (the return, I think he called it), which he was not supposed to do, and didn't charge me for, but since I looked so pathetic and asked so nicely. . . They finished pretty quickly, I wrote them a check and they left. I had this nagging feeling that I'd just been had. "Negative Air Machine," my hiney. But then a funny thing happened. The heat came on. We have forced-air (I thought it was "four-stair heat" until embarrassingly recently) heat with the vents in the floor. It sounded louder than usual and I put my hand over the vent. Holy moley!! The hot air was coming out with 93% more force than it used to! I was amazed, impressed and delighted. Then, when I started writing this here paragraph, I thought I'd link to their site and spread the good word about them. My inclination was right, it seems. If you google them all sorts of "Bad Company/Huge Rip-Off" stories are yours for the browsing. I guess I got a nice guy, or that they don't try to get people who rent to replace or repair their systems. I asked if he'd be cleaning out the furnace and he said it wasn't part of what he was supposed to do. He said it was extra to check it, but that it wasn't really necessary and would just make my bill higher. Most of the complaints were from people who'd called for the cheap service and been talked into spending up to 4 grand on a whole new system because their furnace was broken. Anyway, count it as a disaster narrowly avoided. We'll see if we wake up snotless in the morning. (though it's not like the rest of the house is dust-free or anything. . . )

Of course this stupid stupid war has me really upset. I find that I have to think about normal things or I start to feel really helpless and sad. So many families will be destroyed.

What else can I possibly say?

Didn't expect to hear any good news today. What a nice surprise. Here's a photo from Willow's homecoming one week ago.

I took this before we brought Willow home. Now Willow has Sophie's seat, Soph has Nate's, and Nate got a new booster with a built in cup holder. Willow is so tiny in the seat.



And so so adorable.

We have a new coffee maker. It's the one on the top left, but in black, not chrome (for 20 bucks less). I can get into so much trouble at Sur La Table. Nate came with me. Just us. It was really fun.


I was outside with the children and they were, gasp of shock here, driving me batty. I started to yell, "Don't run over your sister's foot with the bike, stop putting rocks in your mouth, quit climbing the gate, don't stand on the trike. . . . " and I thought, "I shouldn't yell at them so much, the new neighbors will think I'm such a bitch." Then I thought, "Screw the neighbors, I don't want my kids to think I'm such a bitch," and I said all those things much more nicely.


Lexy was looking at pictures in the newspaper and asking if the soldiers with guns were in a war. I said no, they were just practicing in case there was one. I think we'll have to take out the paper every day now. I saw the headline that said Bush had given Hussain 48 hours to scram or he'd start bombing. I said two things to John: 1) Don't you wish someone would do that to Bush?? and 2) I thought he wanted weapons destroyed, now he says he'll attack if Hussain doesn't step down. What's up with that? "Well," John said, "he's destroying the weapons!"


How I know the nurse does not have X-ray vision:
Yesterday I went to the hospital with Willow to take a CPR class. I wore my denim maternity capri pants (by the way, that "bikini line" incision they use for a c-section and the big fat seam to connect the stretchy panel in the maternity pants to the regular fabric line up. Owwww), a black short sleeved maternity t-shirt (none of my regular shirts cover that silly panel), and a pair of Italian leather tennis shoes my mom and sister brought me for my birthday a couple of years ago. No socks. Instead of my diaper bag backpack, I used a little fake leather bag that's black with a vertical red stripe running down the center (about 2 inches thick), bordered by two vertical white stripes. Willow looked completely cute, of course, in her little flowered outfit and sweet baby blanket that someone's great grandmother knit for Sophie. On my way out of the class, one of the nurses looked at me and said, "What a hip mom you are with your shoes and your bag and your cute little newborn." My first thought? If only she could see the enormous maternity underpants I have on!!

One of the many things on my to do list for today is to get photos developed. We also HAVE TO get a new coffee maker. Last night John made coffee before he went to work and I smelled something electrical burning. I turned off the coffee pot (which has had a temperamental on/off switch for a few months now) and sure enough this morning IT WOULD NOT BREW COFFEE. We boiled water in our very cool teapot, held the gold filter over the carafe poured the water in and saved the day. Now I'm all excited to get one of the new models with the thermos carafe instead of a glass carafe. We will save so much money by not dumping out coffee (we're hooked on Peet's). I think they have what I want at Sur La Table, so maybe I'll leave John with the girls and take the boys and run over there this afternoon. I never would have left my 3 week old infant with anyone before, but she's just as happy with her papa as she is with me, so I may take advantage and go. I haven't been outside since Wednesday when she came home, unless you can count standing on the front porch yesterday. I'm getting a little stir crazy. I am anxious for her to get stronger and the weather to get warmer so we can take walks and go to the park. She weighs in at 4 lbs, 14.7 oz as of yesterday.

Evidence of my horrible parenting: Sophie said to me very clearly, "Mama, I want Power Puff Girls." I'm so ashamed.

Ahhhhhh! I tested, it worked. I write long post, it gets eaten. Again. My links and archives are gone and the post at the end of the page is cut off. Gremlins. ust hope they are confined to the computer and leave the fridge and cars alone.
I'll try again tomorrow.

Check out these sites. They both linked to me and when I checked jellycounter I almost fainted. Instead of the usual 3 or 4 hits for a day, I had 136. Wow!

Invisible-city
Halfwaygully

Testing
Don't want to write another long post and lose it.

Grrrrrrr
My post got eaten. Poopystoop, as Nate would say.

Here's the jist of it.

John set up bunkbeds for the kids. Lexy is sleeping alone on the top, cheerfully. I'm still speechless over that one. Nate had a fever and threw up. We were really worried Willow would get sick. She hasn't. Sophie woke up at 4 a.m. and asked me for pizza, candy, pasta and pickles. She also wanted to watch tv. I decided to quit keeping track of how many hours of sleep I get. I feel more rested already.

We are adjusting. Once we figure it out, things will change again. That's what keeps life interesting after all.

We finally weighed Willow tonight. I wasn't worried about her weight, but since I rented the scale for a month for over 90 bucks I'm going to check every single day. She's up 70 grams since leaving the hospital yesterday. Her little cheeks are starting to look chunkier. I need to get more photos developed.

It's very very windy. John is out in it, which I hate. He's most likely enjoying it, but to me this is stay home weather. We need to get the chimney sweep people to come do their thing so we can have fires again. Currently any time we have a fire the house fills with smoke. (Yes, the thing is open) Not good for anyone, but little Willow should really breathe clean air. Thanks to Uncle Jay for picking up the air purifier today. The dust in our house gave her a stuffy nose, but since we put the purifier by her crib she's better. It's funny; I'm such a family bed advocate, but she's so little I feel better with her in a crib by our bed. I have to keep her out of reach of the other monkeys. Of course, she mostly sleeps on my chest or in John's arms. She hardly ever cries. Sophie isn't jealous (yet) but seems to be annoyed that we haven't figured out that this is her baby and handed the squirmy thing over. Mine baby, she says. She is lucky to be cute these days. Tonight she kept turning on the dishwasher just as it was finishing the drying cycle, which got everything all wet again. Then she opened it up, stood on the inside of the door and threw whatever she could grab out of it onto the floor. In an unrelated incident, she broke one of John's coffee cups. It was a perfect sized one; a little oversized, but not hulking, just the right width. She also climbed onto the table, poured out a drink (oh, yes, sticky of course) and sat in it and splashed it onto the floor and chairs. I woke up a morning or two ago with her little face right in mine. "I poo poo," she said. She was naked. Her sleepers and poopy diaper were discarded on the bedsheets behind her. She left little marks showing where she'd scooted around. That's a pretty poor way to wake up. Does Martha ever have articles about getting poop out of bedsheets?? My solution, run the sheets through the washer about 8 times. Worked for us.

Oh my. I have FOUR kids. Yikes.

I am 16% Metal Head

I am going to watch some more TRL and stay out of the mosh pit. I'll only get myself hurt. I'm a lamer. A RUSTY BOLT, in the metal world. A poser. A -real- metal head would kick my ass.

Take the Metal Head Test at fuali.com

I only did this so John could see it and laugh. What gave me such a high score???

Shhhhh, Willow is sleeping in my arms. She's home! The first six hours have been pretty smooth sailing and I put all the kids to bed by myself. Now I'm going to put myself to bed. I was wondering if they'd ever all four sleep at the same time or if I'd just have to tape my eyelids open. We are so happy to have her home. Goodnight.

What day is it??? Here's the Friday Five:

1. What was the last song you heard?

I don't know what it is called or who sings it, but John had on a CD that was a bunch of punk bands doing 1980's heavy metal covers. I think it was an Iron Maiden song.

2. What were the last two movies you saw?

Yesterday we saw Spider in between feeding times. First "normal" thing we've done in awhile. It was brilliant and very sad. Before that, it was the critic's darling "Pokemon, the Movie."

3. What were the last three things you purchased?

Two snickers bars and a fruit juice from the roach coach in front of the hospital.

4. What four things do you need to do this weekend?

Write thank you notes for wedding gifts (I know, I know)
Make Willow's birth announcements (you think those ought to come before or after the wedding thank you notes?? oh well)
Take care of the kids.
Take care of the kids. (that's worth at least 2 slots)

5. Who are the last five people you talked to?

Sophie, she's sleeping on my lap now.
My friend D.
My Mom.
My friend K, who happened to say she could give me the exact same bunk beds I was going to go buy tomorrow morning, and she didn't know my grand master plan for doing so. Good Karma, we love it!
The boys, while I put them to bed.

Lexy drew this picture of his littlest sister, who may be coming home on Wednesday. I don't want to jinx anything, but her doctor said if she keeps progressing like she is that we can expect her home on the 12th. I really hope it happens.

A few days ago I called my Grandmother to see how she was doing. My Grandfather passed away recently and they were married for 56 years. She told me a story that I thought was so sweet and amazing.

For Valentine's Day she bought my Grandfather a little red teddy bear. On the 13th she decided to give it to him, along with his card, even though it was a day early. That morning she'd called my mom and told her that she needed to fly to Texas that day, that she shouldn't wait until her scheduled flight the next day. So, my mom left work and packed and got on a plane. As she was flying home, my Grandmother gave my Grandfather the teddy bear. He was too ill to speak at that point, so he just held it. He was still holding it when he died, at about the same time my Mom's plane touched down. And he was still holding it when my Mom arrived a couple of hours later. My Mom came home on a Saturday, after staying in Texas for the week. The following Tuesday she got the call that I was being wheeled to the OR for an emergency c-section. She left work and sped to the hospital. She parked her car. When she got out she looked at the car parked across from her. There was the exact same bear, looking back at her.



March 1997

Willow is doing very well, and I'm a mess. I'm really crying a lot today. I just want her to be home and I'm getting tired of people telling me how lucky we are. I know that things could be so much worse, but frankly they could also be a whole lot better. Post partum hormones don't help things any.

She's up to 4 pounds and 6 ounces. I need to check her recent length, but I'm sure she's grown. I just hope she comes home soon.

Sophie is in rare form. She's broken two candle votives (one I gave John when we first started dating), two of my favorite ceramic trivet tiles that I got in Big Sur years ago, and one of my clear glass bowls. A big bowl makes a lot of glass on the kitchen floor. I had to vaccum the stove because she poured salt into the burners. That's just some of what she's done in the past two days, and she wasn't even here today!! Nate is very grumpy with all the changes and has been pretty hard to handle. Lexy has been wonderful and helpful. I love them all.

She smiles all the time, and is finally beginning to wake up a little bit. They're turning down the temp in her incubator in hopes of getting her into a regular little crib. Every day brings her closer to home. I have to go and see her now, I'll give updates when I can.

I don't have lots of time now, so I'll just post my latest OAC short story. If it looks funny, it's because I had to cut and paste and sometimes things come out weird. Kind of like on Star Trek when people (or aliens) came through the transporter scrambled.


Dr. Cohen is telling me about the two small holes in my daughter's heart. She's asleep on a warming bed in the neonatal ICU, one day old, seven weeks early and perfect. He says the fibers that make up the heart muscle are long strands that cross over one another. Willow's heart has two spots where the fibers have somehow missed each other leaving two small spaces where the blood seeps through. They are inside her heart. She won't need surgery; the holes should close on their own within three months. I wonder if she'd have survived if the holes were on an outer wall, and again count our blessings even though I'm not feeling all that blessed.

The days pass unnoticed by me. I make trips down a cavernous long hall lined with windows. At first someone pushes me in a wheelchair, but as I gain strength and my c-section incision heals, I make the journey on foot. I notice the sunshine, the rain, the thinnest crescent moon over the mountains at sunrise, as I make my way from my room to my daughter's every three hours. My feelings are so raw that everything looks more beautiful somehow.

At every visit I scrub my arms and hands, clean my fingernails, put on a sterile gown. I find the door to her room and as I push down on the handle and swing it open things are okay again. She's connected to all sorts of machinery. Her father and I hold her all wrapped up in blankets and try not to get tangled in the cords that monitor her. Her connection to us doesn't trail from the bottom of her blankets, but it is there and more real. My love for her is the most tender I can imagine. She is strong and completely vulnerable. Leaving her at the hospital after five days is hell.

I'm driving home alone on the night I was discharged after going back for a visit. I'm thinking about Willow's heart, and suddenly I picture mine, unraveling from the bottom up, leaving a thin strand floating behind me above the road. The end of it is connected to her, tangled in the bottom of her blanket, looped around the IV tubing. I'm crying so hard that I turn on a cd and try to make myself sing along so I can focus. I need to drive and I can't see or breathe. I drive and move my mouth to the song, but only hoarse sobs will come. I reach my driveway exhausted. As I drive back the next morning I gather up the strand and reweave my heart, finishing as I hold her again, knowing that the holes there won't close until she comes home with us. She has on a new hat, white with tiny pastel colored flecks in the yarn. She has a tiny blanket no bigger than a dishtowel and booties that match. The nurse says that it was knit by a volunteer for the NICU babies and it is hers to keep and take home with her. I should learn to knit someday.

Willow was born on Tuesday, 25 February. I started bleeding heavily in the early afternoon and on the advice of my midwife I called my friend Diana to take me to the hospital. John was at work, and came home just as we were leaving. At first they said they'd keep me overnight and watch me, because the ultrasound they did didn't show much. The monitor I was on showed that I was having contractions every two minutes, but they weren't painful. Then they decided to do a pelvic exam to see if I was really in labor, if I'd started dilating. The amount of blood alarmed the doctors and they literally ran in with a consent form and wheeled me to the OR. I didn't have time to even think. Within a half an hour she was delivered. The c-section was eerie. John stood by me, holding my hand and watching the procedure without fainting. He wanted to see his daughter born. Once the anesthesia took hold I couldn't feel pain, but I could feel what they were doing. I felt this weird tugging in my abdomen, I felt my water break. I felt the doctor's hand reach inside me and scoop up my daughter. They ran into the next room with her and John followed. The surgeons made comments about how my ovaries looked good, and they talked like I wasn't on the other side of the drape that hid my face from them. They inspected the inside of my uterus and determined, after initially saying, "Maybe we could have watched this one," that the placenta had pulled away from the inside of the uterus in two places. So, this was a necessary c-section, which I still contend is a very rare thing. I later told John that if we'd lived a hundred years ago he'd have lost his wife and child in childbirth. I'm still all for home births, though.

After they suctioned her lungs and wrapped her up I was allowed to see her. I touched her right cheek but couldn't hold her. The doctors were sewing me up and the drape was up to my armpits, covering my chest. There was nowhere for them to lay her. Then she was gone, and John with her. I was taken to a recovery room. Later I was moved to a bed in the unit where new moms are cared for. Pretty much everyone else had their babies. I listened to them coo and cuddle and I heard babies up and down the hall cry and I cried and cried and felt very sorry for myself. After awhile I just got angry. I couldn't go see her because she was in the neonatal ICU and I was still paralyzed and on a morphine drip. In the morning (she'd been delivered at 5:55 pm), I was all set to go to her, but then was told I couldn't until I had proof of a negative TB screen. That sent me over the edge. My husband and mother had been allowed to hold her, but I couldn't even see her. They weren't required to show any proof of anything, but I'm the mom and I have to jump through hoops. I hate hospitals. I called Lexy's school and explained the situation. They faxed over my TB results. Then, I had to wait over an hour for the doctors to finish their rounds in the NICU. No parents are allowed in the rooms during rounds. By the time I saw her 18 hours had passed and I was devastated.

I said before and after she was born that I did not want them to give her formula. I told everyone. I called the NICU to check on her before I was allowed to see her and asked about nursing her or pumping milk for her. They said she had an IV and wasn't eating yet. I asked my nurse for a pump and they brought one. I called the NICU later to tell them I'd be bringing milk and they said she'd been fed formula. I flipped out. I yelled at the nurse and I cried and I was certain that the whole hospital experience would continue to be horrible. They said they would use milk from the mother's milk bank until I brought them some of mine.

When I finally saw her, she was so tiny I was almost afraid to hold her. She had an IV in the back of her little hand, and she had sensors and wires everywhere. Her mouth and chin are just like her siblings', and her eyes are like John's. Now she's 8 days old. Tomorrow I'll sing her the Peas Porrige Hot song. She doesn't have the IV anymore, but she does have a feeding tube in her nose. She was exhausting herself at mealtimes and losing weight. Now when she's too sleepy to eat, she can get a feeding through the tube and continue resting. She's in an incubator to maintain her body temperature, and was treated for jaundice. An ultrasound of her heart shows two tiny holes on an inner wall, but they should grow closed in the next three months or so. She is on an every three hour feeding schedule. While I was in the hospital I went to most of them and the nurses always told me I should go rest. I couldn't rest knowing that she was down the hall. Now that I'm home I go as often as I can, and John goes at least once a day before he goes to work. He is, of course, an incredible father already. It's good for him to go on his own and care for her. Dads don't need hovering mothers. After the initial unpleasantness, the hospital experience pretty much turned around. The nurses are amazing and I feel like Willow is in very competent hands. My heart is broken that we have to be separated, even though I know it has to be like this. She will come home close to her due date, probably in late March or early April. It's so hard to wait. Leaving the hospital still feels physically wrong, even though I've done it for three days back and forth. I never knew love could be so tender.

Yes, our "Spring due babe" came in late winter. She came by way of an emergency c-section in the hospital instead of a quiet home birth. She was seven weeks early, 4 pounds, 9 ounces and 16 inches long. She's stolen our hearts and when I'm more rested I'll tell her story. In the meantime, you can read about her on John's blog.

I'm so upset over the Living Nappy situation. I come home from the hospital and finally get a moment to relax and check my favorite blogs and one of them is gone. That's just not right.