Weird

It's December 22.

Last year, I was 37 weeks pregnant, retiring from most regular daily activities, waddling everywhere I went, unable to jam my feet into almost any of my shoes. I was pregnant.

Two years ago, I had just found out, nine weeks into my second pregnancy, that no fetus had developed. A sad sack on the couch, I awaited my scheduled D&C the next day to remove the "products of conception." I was pregnant. . .technically.

Three years ago, if I had taken a pregnancy test, it would have been positive. I was about four weeks pregnant with my first baby, a little fighter my inhospitable womb would eventually starve to death and expel. I was pregnant, but I didn't know it yet.

I don't feel like I've spent most of my marriage pregnant or anything, but three times in just over two years is technically quite often. And it only recently occurred to me that I was pregnant this time of year three years in a row. At almost one year, this is the longest stretch of my marriage that I've gone not-pregnant. That's kind of amazing!

Everything is amazing and weird. And I am so, so profound.

As for this year? Looks like I'm breaking my streak. ;)

Oh Snap

Totally forgot to put something up yesterday. NaBloPoMo fail! Sigh, something so easy, failed so easily.

K, over it. At this exact moment, I'm caught in the vicious cycle of tired. I'm tired enough to crash, but there are tasks yet to be completed. But I'm too tired to do anything. But I don't want to go to bed and leave too much for the morning. (I'm a night owl, btw.) So I stay up. But nothing gets done. And now I'm too tired to do anything AND I'm too tired to go to bed.

This happens shamefully often. I only ever remember that I love to sleep when someone or something is demanding that I get up in the morning. When will I ever learn?

Erichisms

Since Lily's still too young to say the darnedest things, I will share one of my favorite Erichisms:

It's tired in here.

It's too tired in here for a substantive blog post tonight. One of these days I'm going to tell you all about laundry (REJOICE!), but I keep waiting till it's too late to do the topic justice.

I kind of like laundry. Be forewarned.

Stream of Consciousness

Erich, what shall I post about today? He replies: well, you could complain about Lily or brag about me OR brag about Lily. Or you could talk about the weather. OR you could do some very light political commentary.

Hm. I guess I'm finding my niche, eh?

Well, I still can't think of a topic for the day, so here's all the randomness going through my head right now.

I don't care what anyone says or chooses to worry about, 70 degrees in November is magnificent. I look forward to more days of mildness. I don't like having to bundle up myself and a wiggly toddlerish being just to go out. Frankly, Lily doesn't even have a warm coat. They don't really work well with car seats, so I'm going to see how long I can go by just keeping her in sweaters and piling on the warm blankets when needed.

I cannot WAIT to have a minivan. We're at the point where we could buy one now, but it's just better if we keep saving the money till we really have to pull the trigger. Getting around town is okay in the (old) Buick Century, but it's so worn out and uncomfortable for longer trips. I don't care if minivans scream "mom!" I am a mom and minivans are darn practical. And I want one.

Lily's sleep patterns are shifting. A week ago, she was still not even considering sleep until 10:00 or 11:00 at night. Last night she was down by nine and slept (with a few interruptions) until 7am. Tonight she started acting super sleepy by 6:00 and I got her down by 7:30. This is great, but I'm nervous about how early she's going to be up for the day tomorrow. I'm not a morning person and can't change my wake time as suddenly as she apparently can.

Old music (Baroque and earlier) is good for the soul. Especially in the fall, for whatever reason.

I'm taking baby steps to change this, because it's all I can do, but every room in my house still feels like I'm either packing for or unpacking from a move. I still can't be fully excited about the positive changes in the kitchen/living room/dining room because it's still not DONE and I keep forgetting to call our guy to find out when he's ever going to come finish the job. It does look so much better, though, and someday I really should do a proper post on the project. That would feel wrong when I could be using all that time to be making it all more livable.

Pause to appreciate the irony.




I'm so glad Erich is home all week.

I have to fold and put away laundry.

My baby is heavy. Also, my back is sore.



Fin

No Whining

Making a point to post every day presents the danger of this blog becoming a place to do nothing but vent and whine. And while I could definitely come up with something to vent and whine about every day, I don't want that for this blog.

Therefore, I will not:

1. Even bring up the topic of sleep and how no one's getting nearly enough of it around here. 
2. Remind everyone that I know it will get better, but that doesn't really help me when all I can think to do is literally ram my head into a wall.
3. Even THINK about complaining that Erich seems to travel all the time and wonder why I ever complained about his absences BL (before Lily).
4. Mention that the sight of my house, everything out of place and still unfinished from having some work done a few weeks ago, makes me want to cower in a corner and sob a bit.

Whew, we can all be glad I'm not going to whine about any of that.

Instead, let's enjoy some pictures of autumnal beauty from before that cyclone came through and blew all the leaves off the trees:

Hair

Lily has a very interesting relationship with hair. Not the hair on her head, which is an exciting mess in itself, but hair on other people's heads.

She has always loved feeling different textures with her fingers, but I believe she finds hair hair to be the ultimate supreme texture. I know it's a thing with babies that they like silky textures and will stroke them to soothe themselves. Lily? Give her some grit and she's happy as a drug addict getting her fix. You can see it in the way her eyes slacken and her head drops as soon as she has her hair.

Having long hair is key. My hair comes just past my shoulders in the front and whenever I hold my sleepy baby close to nurse or rock her to sleep, her free hand goes straight for my neck area. She gropes around until she can find a handful, a strand or clump to clutch in her fist. With the ends toward her thumb, she presses her thumb against the fistful of hair as if she's clicking a button.

Besides the fact that I'm the only lactating human in the household, this is another reason I'm usually the only one who can help get Lily to sleep. Erich, for all his luxurious curls, does not have grabbable strands of hair which hang around his neck. And if I should happen to have my hair tied back on a given day? Well, that situation needs to be remedied quickly because this strong little kid's grasp can and will start pulling apart my 'do to get the precious combination of silky and gritty textures between her tiny fingertips.

Lily's need for hair is right up there with her need to suck. She will usually only hang onto a pacifier if she's going to sleep or is particularly tired. If we happen to be out when she's getting ready for naptime, she will absent-mindedly grab for hair. When hair is not available, she will press her thumb print rhythmically against the edge of a fingernail. If she doesn't have someone else's fingernail available, she will sweep her thumb against the fingers of the same hand.

And so we now understand one of Lily's idiosyncrasies. Just one of those things that make her unique. But! Would you have guessed that this manner of fidgeting is somehow genetic? Indeed! Her father has the exact same fidgeting mannerisms. He used to absent-mindedly scrape his thumb print against my fingernails until I made him stop because it felt creepy. He gravitates toward gently feeling textures, especially textiles, with his fingertips.

Isn't that weird? I mean, Lily's habit is mildly weird enough without the genetic component making it slightly weirder than mildly weird. That's JMVVHO (just my very, very humble opinion). The end!

ETA: Erich reminds me that his brother, Lily's youngest uncle had a hair fetish for years and years. He mainly liked to stroke it. Erich feels textures. Marry those two traits and you get Liy, feeling the texture of hair. Alles klar? Too bad, I'm really done now.

Lesson Learned, or Capsaicin is Evil

I really should have known. But I really did not expect the horror!

Rewind: we have a vegetable garden. Erich has really done a fantastic job with it. He grows several types of peppers, including jalapenos. Erich's dad, a chile aficionado, and his brother were visiting last night en route to moving bro into the dorm for his second year of college.

Erich was making homemade pizza for dinner. He also had a hankering for fresh salsa, so I volunteered to chop and assemble said salsa. I particularly enjoy dicing onions. I started with those, then moved on to the six fresh jalapenos the recipe called for. Erich offered me gloves, but I declined as I thought I would just get it done quickly, wash my hands, and that would be that. I halved them, seeded them and chopped them up. I used the same knife and cutting board and chopped up tomatoes and other ingredients and mixed it all together.

I started to feel a tingle under my ring. I felt a little burning here and there on my knuckles. I used soap and water to wash off the chile juices. Rinse and repeat.... "Wow, my hands are like, on fire," I said, extremely wittily and eloquently. The men of the house all agreed that was weird. Erich asked FIL what he does to get the capsaicin off his hands. Soap and water was the prescribed remedy. "Okay, I'll try that...for the fifth time!" I started to whimper.

And I could no longer use warm water. The burning started to get pretty intense, spreading to all ten fingers, especially concentrated on my knuckles and nail beds. This was pain. Then I couldn't carry anything moderately heavy because the pressure intensified the burning. It truly felt like I had started up a gas burner on the stove and lightly seared my fingers.

Well, I was really feeling bad for myself. I hadn't held Lily in well over an hour and I knew she was going to need to eat eventually, but I was afraid to touch anything. So I did what any Millenial would do in this situation: I asked Dr. Google for help. I was not alone among internet users who had carelessly burned their fingers slicing hot peppers without gloves. What to do, though?

I found a remedy: make a solution, one part bleach, five parts water. Occasionally dip fingers in the solution, which will neutralize the non-water-soluble capsaicin into a salt, which is water-soluble. It didn't seem to help at first, so I poured a bowl of milk to soak my hands. That felt good, I think mainly due to the cool temperature. After a while, I think the bleach solution did work because I could start to function without terrible pain as long as I wasn't gripping anything too tightly.

After testing my still-burning hands on Erich's skin (and determining that my burning was not contagious), I collected my baby, who was ready for bed. I was relieved that my hands weren't going to burn her skin. The worst part of this ordeal was being barred from even holding her until we knew I wouldn't hurt her. (And I won't even get into the issue of an unexpected poop, more solid than it used to be, the pain and yuck-factor in swishing it in the toilet and I'm definitely going to get one of those diaper sprayers... oh, looks like I got into it, sorry.)

The rest of the evening, I was distracted from my pain. As long as my fingers still smelled like the lobby of a hotel with a pool, I could function. They were STILL throbbing when I went to sleep as the bleach faded. I woke up and they seemed okay, except when any significant pressure was placed on them. After my warm shower today, it was as though they were freshly burned for at least half an hour. Even now, about 30 hours later, a slight tingle remains.

I will never, ever, ever even think about handling any combination of knife and hot pepper without gloves on ever again. EVER.

Silly

Erich just got home from work.

Me: I kind of feel like taking a walk.

Erich: I kind of do too! All in favor say "aye."

Pause as we each look at each other, waiting for the inevitable punchline.

Both in unison: YOU!



Seriously, we crack ourselves up.

Duck Parade

Every day around five o'clock, a bunch of ducks walk from the lake across the street to the creek behind our house.

They're totally looking both ways before crossing:

Waddle, waddle.

Oh no! A car's coming!

(I apologize for my ungraceful cinematography.)

The rest of them trek onwards.

This was about a week ago. We've had a lot of rain since then, so the lawn has gotten pretty long. I noticed today that the grass is flattened on the ducks' route! Ducks are cute. They're waaaayyyy better to have around than those honking Canada geese. Oh, how I loathe you, Canada geese.

Pet Peeve

This may seem a bit insensitive, but I hate it when people say "I covet your prayers." Insensitive because someone usually "covets" prayers at a difficult time in their life, and I would not nitpick with someone who directly told me they covet my prayers.

That being said, that's not really what "covet" means. Coveting goes beyond simple want or desire. To covet is to want something enviously that's not yours and you can't have. I covet the mansion down the street. I covet my neighbor's newer car. Covetousness, when followed to its logical conclusion, leads to hatred and theft.

If I'm going through a difficult time in my life, I don't "covet" someone else's prayers to the point that I would cheat and steal from them to get some prayers. It just doesn't follow.

Using the word "covet" just seems to be a way to use a biblical-type word (heck, depending on how you number the ten commandments, coveting is forbidden in two of them!) and sound "godly." But it usually just makes a person sound like they don't know what it really means. (And, it turns out, people agree that using big words when smaller ones will do usually just makes the person sound stupider. I would second that for using Bible words when regular ones will do.)

Also, "covenant" as a verb. What's the deal with that? Hypothetical example: "I covenanted my friend that I would pay her back the $10 I borrowed." Silly!

I Love This Song!

YouTube Link

Weird Dream

I had a dream this morning that I was in a place that was a lot like my parents' basement, arguing with Barack Obama about abortion.

I was laying zinger after zinger on him, getting the upper hand in the argument, and he was getting angry and calling me "Miss Gavin." Then he finally said, "I'm through with this. Begone!" I knew I should get out of there, lest I run afoul of the Secret Service.

Then I called him a baby killer and threw my remaining orange juice in his face before sauntering out of the room. That showed him!

So what was going on in my brain that prompted this dream?? I blame my bedtime story of George Orwell's 1984. Amazing book; not the best bedtime reading. :)

Make it stop!

Created by Train Horn

Advice Needed

I learned a few things today. One, my blog is "pretty heavily trafficked." Two, the internet is a crazy, crazy place.

If you want to know what I'm talking about, read the comments on my last post, then come back here and tell me what you think I should do.

My Funny Husband

Erich, to me on the phone: What do you want for dinner, tacos or tuna casserole? [He's so wonderful and did a lot of grocery shopping and prepared dinner after a full day of work.]

Me: Ummm...tuna casserole!

Erich: Correct.

Me: LOL

Talk Like a Pirate

In honor of International Talk Like a Pirate Day, September 19, here is my last post translated into Pirate:

I think I be havin' enough moments in Spain t' last about a voyage....

I've spake that thar's nay a lot t' do in Bilbao, but thar be a wee decent museums. Th' most famous, an' accordin' t' Rick Steves, th' only reason t' avast in Bilbao on yer way t' or from San Sebastien, be th' Guggenheim Museum o' Modern Art. I sailed' thar on Toosdee o' me tides in Bilbao.

... when th' ser'er spake "Water? Wine?" I spake, "aye, please." I figured 't would be a glass o' wine or a half keg. Nope, 't be an entire keg o' wine.

Ha! I love useless but fun holidays.

Silly Husband

This afternoon, while we sat together on our La-Z-Boy watching "thelympics," Erich enjoyed an extremely huge jawbreaker he had gotten in Frankenmuth, MI. I looked over at him, and about died laughing when I saw this:

Easily concealed when necessary...

Back to business.

A Good Saturday

Hello, Internets! I'm back again. Erich and I have been very busy lately. Two weekends ago we spent two days in Michigan for my family reunion on my dad's side (and we went to the beach on Sunday! Oh, how glorious!), the following weekend we went to Evansville for our niece's baptism (forthcoming post on that, I promise), and in between, we did some house sitting for our friends in a neighboring town. THEN, this past Sunday, we were off to Michigan again to spend time with Erich's grandparents and Evansville immediate family members. Out of the 19 nights between July 19 and August 7, we only slept four of those at home. That was pushing it for this homebody. While I enjoyed all the time we spent away, it is REALLY good to be home.

Anyway, today was the first time in a while where Erich and I could have a normal summer Saturday, and I think we spent it quite well.

First, we got up around 8:30. That's just perfect because we got to sleep in a little, but not so much that we wasted half the morning. I came downstairs to Erich cooking an inventive concoction involving eggs, potatoes, and cheese. It was delicious! Good job, Erich.

Soon after breakfast we serviced our bicycles a bit then rode downtown to the library. I had a notion in my head to try to watch as many Batman movies as we can for fun, since we enjoyed The Dark Knight so much, but alas, the library was completely out of all Batman movies. Apparently I wasn't the only one with that idea. But, I did pick up the much-heralded Robert Plant/Alison Krauss collaboration, Raising Sand, and have listened to it a bit. Not bad!

From the library we biked to the farmer's market and got some fresh fixin's for this week's meals. There's something so fresh and quaint and wonderful about purchasing fresh veggies straight from the farmers. And did I mention delicious? I love summer.

Then we went home to bum around the house a bit. Erich turned on the Olympics and they were showing women's beach volleyball. Let me tell you, though I enjoy watching the sport and I highly admire the skill displayed by the athletes, I found myself asking why women's beach volleyball was being featured in the middle of the day on a Saturday. I'm pretty sure this is why:

Every straight man's dream, right? In other news, maybe I should take up full-time beach volleyball. That would fulfill two highly desirable things for me: spending time on the beach and having a perfect body. I suppose I'd have to do a lot of work, though, wouldn't I?

The rest of the day was even less eventful, except for when I went to church to sing the Psalm at the evening service. Erich and I cooked a tasty dinner of grilled chicken, green beans and glazed carrots. Still, I feel like this day had everything: good food, bike-riding, shopping, and PLENTY of time to just veg. I am really, really going to miss summer.

I got an iPod shuffle!

OMG, has it really been 20 days since I last posted? I guess time stamps don't lie. I miss you, blogger. I'll be back soon, I promise. I have so many posts just waiting to be written and made more interesting with pictures, still in my head.

But for now: I got an ipod shuffle! For free! I had been thinking about getting one about a year or so ago. Since they're the size of a postage stamp and practically weightless, they're great for exercising. I decided against it, though, and I was just thinking two days ago about how I'm glad I did. I'd use it if I had one, but there's no need to spend $85 on it, I thought.

Then, that very day, Erich sent me a Google chat message asking if I wanted one. His company gave them out to employees in celebration of 15 years in business. I said, "Sure!" He brought it home, and I got it set up and played with it. Then I told Erich that we could share it if he wanted. (You see, he had agreed with me that it's a cool device but that it's not a good way to spend money, so I thought he was just offering it to me.) His eyes widened as he replied, "No way! I'm using my own!"

His wonderful company, who gives two extra weeks vacation for honeymoons and will completely cover our health care very soon, had given ME my very own iPod. Things like that make the 1hr+ commute just a little more bearable.

In other news, I have the hiccups! Quick, someone startle me!

The Big Two-five

I'm officially old.

Oh, whatever, j/k, I've been saying that for the last five years. Every year I get oldER. And that's no longer exciting! 25 doesn't feel much different from 21, and I'm no longer wishing away the years.

The weeks and months, sometimes, I wish away, but not years.

24 was a big year for me. Got married, went to Hawaii and Spain, got pregnant, had a miscarriage. What will 25 bring? Good things and bad, undoubtedly. Only time will tell how much of each. There are lots of things I hope will happen by the time I turn 26, not the least of which is learning patience and the realization that 26 is not that old.

So what am I doing today besides sifting through Facebook notifications and a choir concert tonight? Nothing, it's just Wednesday. Erich is out of town. Blah.

Happy birthday to meeeeeeeeee.