1. I'm officially tired of moving. Bah! Seriously, don't want to do this again any time soon. Or ever would be fine too. I guess if I had to, I could, but I really don't see how military families do it. If I was moving into this house right now and knew that in two to three years I'd be moving out again, I'd be crying as I unpacked the boxes. I'm sure it would be easier if I wasn't 33 weeks pregnant, but still. Even if I was non-prego, totally healthy, best shape of my life, I wouldn't want to do this every three years. On the up side, it is very satisfying to look around the house and see what all we've accomplished in one week. Really, it's a totally livable house from the fully stocked kitchen to the up-and-running computer/internet/printer/etc. The biggest thing missing right now is just details. There's still stacks of decor needing homes, empty walls with pictures propped on the floor beneath them, and let's just not discuss the garage right now. It's already too hot out for me to want to even mess with it after around 9:30am. But for the most part, I'm totally exhausted, totally glad it's nearly over, and totally satisfied with how it's all turned out. Can't wait to show pictures when I'm satisfied with how everything looks! Moving on.
2. In the midst of all the un-packing boxes and finding places for everything, I had a 32 week appointment for the little guy this week. Sonogram and all. And wouldn't you know it, this little porker already weighs four pounds and eight ounces! Doesn't sound like much, I know. But that puts him in the 58th percentile. Also doesn't sound like anything to brag about. But at this stage with both Kolbe and Reagan they were dropping drastically in size. Not losing weight, just not gaining weight either. I want to say that it was around right now with Reagan that he had dropped all the way to the 14th percentile and they started giving me celestone shots to help him out "just in case" he was born early like Kolbe. And of course, he was. Go figure that the most outrageous, stressful, and physically taxing of my pregnancies would produce the most gestationally normal baby thus far. I'm trying not to get too optimistic that I could make it past 36 weeks, but with the baby doing so well, maybe there's hope. Note to self, though: the baby and the mama are two totally different people. He may be doing really well. And may even break six pounds, even at 36 weeks. But I've always been the problem. Not the baby. As for me, so far my blood pressure is staying in the acceptable range. The only real problem is that my swollen ankles have turned into swelling up the whole leg. And the bad kind. Where when you press down on it, the indentation is still there more than ten seconds later. Boo. (and oh-so-attractive in summertime shorts!) We'll see. I doubt being on my feet non-stop over the past week has helped whatsoever. Time to start taking it easy, laying off of the moving-in overload, and just relaxing and get ready to be Mama all over again. Prayers for the baby and me, por favor! Getting close to crunch time!
3. Can I just complain for two seconds about the ridiculous weather here in The Woodlands? Ugh! My parents have lived here for years, so I knew what I was getting myself into. But this has been absurd so far. Highs in the mid to high nineties, lows around, oh, seventy-eight. And it's May. Everyone keeps telling me that this is normally the rainy season here. Warm and humid, but frequent weekly rain showers and such. Not so much. It has rained once since we got here. One time! Maybe we brought Lubbock with us or something. Though we certainly didn't send the humidity up there in exchange for the drought. The humidity has got to be like eighty percent. So remarkably, even though it never rains, most vegetation still looks green. Not even kidding when I say that all outdoor activity (at least for me) halts by about 10am. Though we did go watch portions of the Ironman race that was held here in The Woodlands this past weekend. Quite fascinating. I could never. Never! Heck, I was sweating more than some of the finish line crossers as I stood aimlessly behind a barricade! Pitiful. I know.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
TTT: season 2, episode 20
1. We closed on Tuesday! Hooray! Then yesterday we hired movers to move everything from my parents garage into our new house. Great (read:horrible) story to tell about part of that. Maybe next week when I have more time/energy/a computer to write. Since then, nothing but unpacking boxes and setting up our new house! Yea!
2. I'm tired. But the good tired. Like where you're working hard toward something you like and it feels good.
3. Random things:
- opening boxes of food (non-perishable, of course) is awesome. Like going to the grocery store without going.
- I'm of the opinion that movers don't need to use nearly as much wrapping paper as they use. And a $3 falling apart lampshade doesn't need its own massive box.
- don't ever plant nut grass in your yard. It's ridiculous and ugly. Just saying.
- we have and insanely nice house...and insanely pitiful stuff to put in it. Someday, self...someday...
2. I'm tired. But the good tired. Like where you're working hard toward something you like and it feels good.
3. Random things:
- opening boxes of food (non-perishable, of course) is awesome. Like going to the grocery store without going.
- I'm of the opinion that movers don't need to use nearly as much wrapping paper as they use. And a $3 falling apart lampshade doesn't need its own massive box.
- don't ever plant nut grass in your yard. It's ridiculous and ugly. Just saying.
- we have and insanely nice house...and insanely pitiful stuff to put in it. Someday, self...someday...
Thursday, May 12, 2011
TTT: Season 2, Episode 19
1. Big week lies ahead...and I can't wait! We are scheduled to close on our new house a week from today and then officially move in next Friday. Our realtor totally put the teaser out there by emailing me earlier this week and asking if we'd be able to close on Tuesday or Wednesday instead. Uh, hello? Yes! Apparently everything that needs to be done has been done and she's just trying to get everything finalized with the title company, which I come to find out is actually located in downtown Houston. Un-cool. I had been telling Mark that he'd just need to take off an hour or so for the actual closing. That was based on the fact that it took me roughly twenty minutes for the closing in Lubbock. But heck, if we have to drive to downtown Houston, he might as well take off an entire morning! Our realtor is going to try to work out a way for us to close here in The Woodlands...and hopefully on Tuesday or Wednesday! I know...I sound like that giddy person who can't wait to move in to her new house. But really, this whole process, though relatively short compared to what some people go through, has felt like a long time coming and we're just ready to be in our house and getting ready for this new baby to come. I'll work on the inside (my head is about to explode with ideas of how to decorate, set things up, etc.) and Mark can stay out in the muggy, nasty heat and work on the yard. That whole yard maintenance thing will be kind of new for us. In Lubbock, our yard was admittedly the dumpy one on the block. No landscaping, hardly ever watered. Struggling. But the house we're moving into has really nice landscaping and in The Woodlands it's required that residence take care of their lawns. Not even kidding. So we'll have to grow ourselves a green thumb and get after it so we're not "that house" on the block. I actually look forward to it! (at least once this baby is out of my belly and it doesn't cut off my circulation to crouch down and pull a few weeds...)
2. Pediatricians and parents alike say that a large majority of kids "turn two" around the time they're about eighteen-months-old. I would have totally agreed with this after Kolbe. He went through his bull headed, strong willed, test of wills year from around eighteen months to around two-and-a-half. Keep in mind, he also added a new brother when he was just fifteen months old so some of it had to have been that fight for attention and relevance amidst all the other shenanigans going on at the time. Reagan has been a totally different case. Pleasant tempered, relatively mild, we wondered if he was ever going to "turn two" or if we were just blessed with a very compliant, happy, do-whatever-brother-agrees-to-do little guy.
Oh no. "The phase" has officially arrived. Strangely enough, it was as if he had it marked down on his personal calendar! One day he was fine, the next day he had a mind of his own. I'm still thinking it may be due, in part, to all of the changes going on. No longer living in the house he always knew as home, living with grandparents who travel quite a bit and are sometimes here sometimes not, all this talk about moving into his new house, not to mention the obvious new baby that lurks in the shadows! But a lot of it is just Rudy trying to understand the way the world works. It's as if he somehow thinks that since he can now clearly communicate with us using words, we should be willing to oblige to whatever it is he's demanding:
Reagan: Mama, bike ride.
Me: Rudy, we can't go on bike ride right now. We just finished breakfast.
Reagan: Bike Ride!
Me: You can ride your bike right here on the back patio while Mama cleans off the breakfast dishes.
Reagan: No! Bike riiide!
Me: Ru, I don't even have on my clothes yet! Look! Mama is still in her pajamas!
Reagan: Bike! Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiddddeeee! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
(That "whaaa" can further be translated as: I know you know what "bike ride" means, lady! Quit acting like you don't. Why are you trying to act like it's so hard to understand what I'm saying!?! When I say "bike ride," I mean NOW!)
Poor creature. How disappointing to learn that the world doesn't do exactly what you want it to do when you want it to do it. And a mama of three boys certainly isn't going to be able to jump at your every request the second you ask. Or at all, if it's for some of the more ridiculous things you're requesting. (such as the king-size Butterfinger in the check-out lane at the store...though you know I'd love to help you take that one down...) You'll learn, little guy. Just may be an interesting few months up ahead.
3. I've been fortunate not to have to deal with death much in my life. A beloved grandmother when I was ten, a grand father I didn't know well right after Kolbe was born, my most special Popo just two years ago. My grandparents that have died all died in typical ways- aging, disease, illness- and with the typical scenarios of having lived a full life and been through the traditional trials and triumphs of any grown adult. But this week another special soul left my extended family. A most unique and beautiful person whose life and death are unlike any of the others that passed before. My sweet Aunt Kathy passed away on Saturday. She is my dad's little sister. Number three of seven kids. The beloved jewel of a large family. Kathy was born with Downs Syndrome in 1958, a time when many children with this condition were placed in homes and treated completely differently. Kathy, instead, was raised as any other child in their family and led an exceptional life. She went to school, competed in the Special Olympics, and even held down a job at The Olive Garden for twenty years. Kathy always did her best to be as anyone else would be, though her disease provided her with one special blessing. How often do we wish, especially during the difficult times, that we could go back to being a kid? When nothing seemed wrong with the world, we didn't have to worry about bad things happening, and we weren't responsible for all that life really entails. Because Kathy's mental capacity never exceeded that of an adolescent, she got to live that life for her entire existence. Even as she lay dying from Alzheimer's disease, she was still able to maintain the innocence I see in my own little boys. The freedom from major temptations, ugly habits, having to choose between right and wrong. The ability to just be beautiful and child-like for her entire fifty-two years of life. What a gift. As so in her passing this week, I found it so unique to look at a grown, adult person who had just died and not feel like I should "pray that she goes to heaven," so to say. Just as when a child dies, there's just that certainty that, still innocent, she ever so gracefully joined the choirs of heaven the moment her heart stopped beating. Her life will continue to impact us all and she will greatly be missed.
2. Pediatricians and parents alike say that a large majority of kids "turn two" around the time they're about eighteen-months-old. I would have totally agreed with this after Kolbe. He went through his bull headed, strong willed, test of wills year from around eighteen months to around two-and-a-half. Keep in mind, he also added a new brother when he was just fifteen months old so some of it had to have been that fight for attention and relevance amidst all the other shenanigans going on at the time. Reagan has been a totally different case. Pleasant tempered, relatively mild, we wondered if he was ever going to "turn two" or if we were just blessed with a very compliant, happy, do-whatever-brother-agrees-to-do little guy.
Oh no. "The phase" has officially arrived. Strangely enough, it was as if he had it marked down on his personal calendar! One day he was fine, the next day he had a mind of his own. I'm still thinking it may be due, in part, to all of the changes going on. No longer living in the house he always knew as home, living with grandparents who travel quite a bit and are sometimes here sometimes not, all this talk about moving into his new house, not to mention the obvious new baby that lurks in the shadows! But a lot of it is just Rudy trying to understand the way the world works. It's as if he somehow thinks that since he can now clearly communicate with us using words, we should be willing to oblige to whatever it is he's demanding:
Reagan: Mama, bike ride.
Me: Rudy, we can't go on bike ride right now. We just finished breakfast.
Reagan: Bike Ride!
Me: You can ride your bike right here on the back patio while Mama cleans off the breakfast dishes.
Reagan: No! Bike riiide!
Me: Ru, I don't even have on my clothes yet! Look! Mama is still in her pajamas!
Reagan: Bike! Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiddddeeee! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
(That "whaaa" can further be translated as: I know you know what "bike ride" means, lady! Quit acting like you don't. Why are you trying to act like it's so hard to understand what I'm saying!?! When I say "bike ride," I mean NOW!)
Poor creature. How disappointing to learn that the world doesn't do exactly what you want it to do when you want it to do it. And a mama of three boys certainly isn't going to be able to jump at your every request the second you ask. Or at all, if it's for some of the more ridiculous things you're requesting. (such as the king-size Butterfinger in the check-out lane at the store...though you know I'd love to help you take that one down...) You'll learn, little guy. Just may be an interesting few months up ahead.
3. I've been fortunate not to have to deal with death much in my life. A beloved grandmother when I was ten, a grand father I didn't know well right after Kolbe was born, my most special Popo just two years ago. My grandparents that have died all died in typical ways- aging, disease, illness- and with the typical scenarios of having lived a full life and been through the traditional trials and triumphs of any grown adult. But this week another special soul left my extended family. A most unique and beautiful person whose life and death are unlike any of the others that passed before. My sweet Aunt Kathy passed away on Saturday. She is my dad's little sister. Number three of seven kids. The beloved jewel of a large family. Kathy was born with Downs Syndrome in 1958, a time when many children with this condition were placed in homes and treated completely differently. Kathy, instead, was raised as any other child in their family and led an exceptional life. She went to school, competed in the Special Olympics, and even held down a job at The Olive Garden for twenty years. Kathy always did her best to be as anyone else would be, though her disease provided her with one special blessing. How often do we wish, especially during the difficult times, that we could go back to being a kid? When nothing seemed wrong with the world, we didn't have to worry about bad things happening, and we weren't responsible for all that life really entails. Because Kathy's mental capacity never exceeded that of an adolescent, she got to live that life for her entire existence. Even as she lay dying from Alzheimer's disease, she was still able to maintain the innocence I see in my own little boys. The freedom from major temptations, ugly habits, having to choose between right and wrong. The ability to just be beautiful and child-like for her entire fifty-two years of life. What a gift. As so in her passing this week, I found it so unique to look at a grown, adult person who had just died and not feel like I should "pray that she goes to heaven," so to say. Just as when a child dies, there's just that certainty that, still innocent, she ever so gracefully joined the choirs of heaven the moment her heart stopped beating. Her life will continue to impact us all and she will greatly be missed.
 |
| Aunt Kathy and my dad...life is good! |
Thursday, May 5, 2011
TTT: Season 2, Episode 18
1. Ahhhhh. A normal week. Finally! No dramatic hospital visit to write about. Nothing catastrophic going on with pretty much anything. Just a fairly relaxing weekend with a fairly normal start to this week. Of course, as soon as I finish typing this, my computer is bound to explode or something. Really uneventful though. I'm more pregnant than last week, I suppose. In fact, each day I feel more and more pregnant. It's kind of reached that point where I'm tired again. Sleepy the whole first trimester, great the whole second trimester, and now back to sleepy again. And achy. Sleep isn't as good...just not comfortable. Though I'm still no where near the size of some of the poor souls I see waddling out of the OB's office. (Thank you, Lord, for my long torso.) Just moving right along with the little man and me. Starting to wonder just who he will be. Kolb and Rudy, though inseparable, are so completely different. Will this little guy be more like Kolbe? More like Rudy? His own special little self? Can't wait to find out!
2. Though uneventful overall, this week has presented one not-so-fun challenge: the low to no fat diet that's required of a bad gallbladder. Um, can I just say "Boo!" I guess I didn't realize how much I loved all my good (read: bad) foods. Man, it's hard to come up with legitimate meals that have little to no grams of fat! Even some of the basics of the basics have fat! I suppose in the long run it's a good thing that I'm going through this. It's certainly making me more aware of what I'm putting in my mouth and the effect it has on my body. And hopefully after the gallbladder is gone in a few months, I'll be able to at least try to make an effort to keep up a healthier eating lifestyle. But for now, one week in, I miss the flavors. And the yummies. The chocolate and peanut butter. The spices and seasonings. And I'll be honest: I have tried a few things...just to see how my body takes it...and there is a definite difference. I can literally feel about twenty minutes after trying something I shouldn't have my poor little digestive system trying to break it down. Not a good feeling. And I don't even want to tempt it to go back to the pain I felt last Wednesday. Eek. Just going to have to keep going out of my way to manage this until it's safe to do something about it! Totally finding it ironic that a mere six or seven weeks ago the doctors were telling me to eat everything full fat, avoid "light" type items in favor of the real deal so that I'd put on some of the weight that I obviously wasn't gaining. Guess that didn't really work out either. Oh well. It's just gonna have to be what it'll be. On a positive note, Mark had a patient the other day who said that she had all kinds of digestive problems (kinda like moi) and once she finally had a gallbladder attack and had it removed, it cleared nearly everything up. Man, wouldn't that be awesome! But then again, who is Laura with out incessant belching!?! Maybe there's the possibility of there being a lady in me after all!
3. It's been a while...and now it's not just Kolbe, but Rudy too! Time for an episode of:
Kolbe. What can I say about the guy? He's just so busy trying to figure out the world. How everything works, why it does what it does, what his part in it can be, and on and on. And the majority of the time, his assessments turn in to something hilarious.
Kolbe: There's an airplane!
Pinkie: Where?
Kolbe: Up there!
Pinkie: Man, Kolbe. I don't see it. You sure do have good eyes.
Kolbe: I know. I'm good looking.
For the next one, a little background: In The Woodlands, there are no visible power lines. Everything is buried beneath the ground to create a more natural looking environment. We drove down into Houston the other day, though, to visit a Catholic bookstore. Driving down a busy street...
Kolbe: Pinkie, why is that wire following us?
Pinkie: What wire?
Kolbe: Up there. That wire is following us down the road.
Pinkie: Honey, those are phone lines.
Kolbe: But their following our car. Down the road.
(Amazing how he perceives what's happening when we're in motion!)
Dear Kolb has also developed a knack for saying horribly awkward things in public. Things that other people can definitely hear and I just don't quite know how to respond appropriately. Such as a question he posed to me on the toothpaste aisle at Target the other day:
Kolbe: Mama, why is that man walking?
Me: Well, I guess he's looking for some toothpaste too.
Kolbe: But he shouldn't be walking. He's old. He needs to be in a wheelchair.
Me: (Dohhhhhhhhhh!!!!)
Rudy, on the other hand, is just starting to realize the power of stringing together lots and lots of words. He doesn't necessarily say funny things quite yet, though it's fascinating to hear him become the commentator of all that takes place before his eyes: "Mama making bed." "Roley poley crawling on Mama." "Good dob, budder!" (I hear this one in the car every time Kolbe manages to buckle his own car seat buckles without help...Good job, brother!) He also loves to repeat "Bike ride." over and over again. Or at least until someone obliges and takes him on a bike ride. And I think it's precious how he calls every meal "yunch." Even when he stumbles in at 6:30am and is tugging on my arm from the side of the bed: "Mama, yunch. Yunch." Kid sure does love to eat!
He did have a little funny last night at dinner. After we were finished eating and were just sitting around visiting, he stood up in his seat and pulled his shirt up to his chest: "Mama, yook! I have baby budder in my belly!" Hey, at least we know he's finally aware of the situation at hand! Sweet little boys!
2. Though uneventful overall, this week has presented one not-so-fun challenge: the low to no fat diet that's required of a bad gallbladder. Um, can I just say "Boo!" I guess I didn't realize how much I loved all my good (read: bad) foods. Man, it's hard to come up with legitimate meals that have little to no grams of fat! Even some of the basics of the basics have fat! I suppose in the long run it's a good thing that I'm going through this. It's certainly making me more aware of what I'm putting in my mouth and the effect it has on my body. And hopefully after the gallbladder is gone in a few months, I'll be able to at least try to make an effort to keep up a healthier eating lifestyle. But for now, one week in, I miss the flavors. And the yummies. The chocolate and peanut butter. The spices and seasonings. And I'll be honest: I have tried a few things...just to see how my body takes it...and there is a definite difference. I can literally feel about twenty minutes after trying something I shouldn't have my poor little digestive system trying to break it down. Not a good feeling. And I don't even want to tempt it to go back to the pain I felt last Wednesday. Eek. Just going to have to keep going out of my way to manage this until it's safe to do something about it! Totally finding it ironic that a mere six or seven weeks ago the doctors were telling me to eat everything full fat, avoid "light" type items in favor of the real deal so that I'd put on some of the weight that I obviously wasn't gaining. Guess that didn't really work out either. Oh well. It's just gonna have to be what it'll be. On a positive note, Mark had a patient the other day who said that she had all kinds of digestive problems (kinda like moi) and once she finally had a gallbladder attack and had it removed, it cleared nearly everything up. Man, wouldn't that be awesome! But then again, who is Laura with out incessant belching!?! Maybe there's the possibility of there being a lady in me after all!
3. It's been a while...and now it's not just Kolbe, but Rudy too! Time for an episode of:
Kolbe Kwotes and Rudy Ramblings!
Kolbe. What can I say about the guy? He's just so busy trying to figure out the world. How everything works, why it does what it does, what his part in it can be, and on and on. And the majority of the time, his assessments turn in to something hilarious.
Kolbe: There's an airplane!
Pinkie: Where?
Kolbe: Up there!
Pinkie: Man, Kolbe. I don't see it. You sure do have good eyes.
Kolbe: I know. I'm good looking.
For the next one, a little background: In The Woodlands, there are no visible power lines. Everything is buried beneath the ground to create a more natural looking environment. We drove down into Houston the other day, though, to visit a Catholic bookstore. Driving down a busy street...
Kolbe: Pinkie, why is that wire following us?
Pinkie: What wire?
Kolbe: Up there. That wire is following us down the road.
Pinkie: Honey, those are phone lines.
Kolbe: But their following our car. Down the road.
(Amazing how he perceives what's happening when we're in motion!)
Dear Kolb has also developed a knack for saying horribly awkward things in public. Things that other people can definitely hear and I just don't quite know how to respond appropriately. Such as a question he posed to me on the toothpaste aisle at Target the other day:
Kolbe: Mama, why is that man walking?
Me: Well, I guess he's looking for some toothpaste too.
Kolbe: But he shouldn't be walking. He's old. He needs to be in a wheelchair.
Me: (Dohhhhhhhhhh!!!!)
Rudy, on the other hand, is just starting to realize the power of stringing together lots and lots of words. He doesn't necessarily say funny things quite yet, though it's fascinating to hear him become the commentator of all that takes place before his eyes: "Mama making bed." "Roley poley crawling on Mama." "Good dob, budder!" (I hear this one in the car every time Kolbe manages to buckle his own car seat buckles without help...Good job, brother!) He also loves to repeat "Bike ride." over and over again. Or at least until someone obliges and takes him on a bike ride. And I think it's precious how he calls every meal "yunch." Even when he stumbles in at 6:30am and is tugging on my arm from the side of the bed: "Mama, yunch. Yunch." Kid sure does love to eat!
He did have a little funny last night at dinner. After we were finished eating and were just sitting around visiting, he stood up in his seat and pulled his shirt up to his chest: "Mama, yook! I have baby budder in my belly!" Hey, at least we know he's finally aware of the situation at hand! Sweet little boys!
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