Sept 30, 2010 - today a year ago

I just reviewed my pregnancy/baby blog from one year ago today.  I was 38 weeks pregnant, and was being asked when I wanted to be induced...

Induction Junction - What's Your Function

...I was told I could go in anytime after Oct 1 to be induced.  Although I'm very interested in having the baby, I'm also interested in having her fully cooked.  I only take my steaks medium rare.  I would like to have the opportunity for her to choose to come when she's ready - and to be at home for as long as possible - and to be a little surprised so I'm not counting down the very seconds.    I'm hard to please, I know.  During the doctor's appointment two weeks ago, he asked which doctor I would prefer to do the induction - I said that I didn't care.  I was rushed and sort of put on the spot.  I wasn't interested in saying that I'd like a doctor other than him - but if I had the choice...  I did say that I wanted to give her the chance to make the move on her own, and that I was not going to have an induction before my due date.  He scheduled me for Oct 9.  On the way home, I realized that I did know the date, but not the doctor.  I called - and they didn't know.  What?  I told them that I would prefer the midwife.  She does extra monitoring to minimize the amount of pitocin (the contraction-inducing drug that, if overdone, can make a body do things that it just plain shouldn't).  Her method of monitoring is more work for her, and why the other two probably don't do it, but if I had a choice between the three options, I wanted the midwife.  Then at the doctor's appointment last week - when I was examined while a woman was waiting for him to come "catch a baby" - I was even more strongly swayed to want the midwife.  It is still a crap shoot if the baby comes on her own, but if I'm going to be induced I want her there...

Conference Mania: Mirror Image

The next few posts are going to be conference related... brace yourself.

I am hard on myself.  You all know that.

Mirrors are my enemy, and there are no fewer than four in my hotel room.

The bathroom has the standard mirror over the sink - in an overly lit sterile bathroom.  It makes my should-be raspberry chocolate hair color look black, my skin look pasty, and my teeth yellow.

Add to that the side-kick mirror that has 100 time magnification so that each and every pore is the size of a quarter.  It made tweezing both easy and endless.  Also it made me feel sorry for anyone who has seen me at very close range in the last five years (husband, baby, dentist, doctor...).

Who you gonna call?

Day 2 of my conference, so I have Nicole from By Word of Mouth - give a warm MSM welcome!!  (By the way, I am coming up with some great content to share (at my own expense) in future posts!) ~ Modern Super Momma!

Huge thanx to Modern (so cute and hip) Super (yes, she is juggling her life so stupendously) Momma (her favorite role of all) for the invite to write over on her blog for her and amuse y'all in her absence.

I write a blog, just like y'all do and some days its fulfilling, some days I even amuse myself and some days I wonder why ... but  I write anyway.  I have so many roles to play in my day, Mom role: Wife to one Incredible Guy, Mommy to two Wonderful Girls, Homeschooler, Zookeeper, Office Manager, Mediator, Creative Director, Travel Agent, Chauffeur and sometimes Master Chef ... it all boils down to the World's Best Job but if I didn't write about it, it may just all boil over!

Grams say the weirdest things

 I'm out on business.  No, really, I AM!  Anyway, I've got a few guest bloggers to fill the void I know you have when I'm not posting.

Everyone, meet Ella!  *all together now...HI ELLA!*

This is the part where I tell you a bit about me...  right? Well, My name is Ella and I am SUPER excited to be writing for Modern Super Momma today! Let's see, I'm in the process of building a new and WAY better website but for now check me out at pourintotheglass.blogspot.com where I write about the weird things that happen to me on a regular basis and all the awesome conversations I have with people, like the one below with my 80 year old grandmother.. Enjoy!

I'm not paid to be a people watcher

I'm a people watcher.  I can sit for hours watching people try to walk out a wedgie, suck in their guts, nonchalantly flex muscles, adjust bras, play with hair and all other aspects of peacockery.  And then there are those that don't give a shit.  Totally state fair, right?

Well, I missed this year's state fair because it was ahundredytrillion degrees and the munchkin wouldn't go for sitting still sweating in a stroller so that I can watch a parade of tube tops and cut off jeans.  Damn the man.

I can deal with crowds if I can feel that I'm on the sidelines - observer as opposed to observee.

This is not the case next week.

Anyone got hemorrhoid cream? For my eyes - not my ass - sicko...

This is the second night in a row that I've karate chopped myself awake.

*peaceful dream about baby*

Oh no, she's falling over! Hurry jump out of bed!

*leg twitching dream about nothing*

Sonofabitch do I smell a poopy diaper!!!

The technology mafia doesn't want me to work

I don't consider myself a tech-head.  Far from it.  I resist changes in technology for the most part.  Not voluntarily, but lack of expendable income tends to limit which technological trends our family follows.

We got our first dvd player somewhere around 2003.  I got my first mp3 player in 2006 - and didn't use it because I had to rip all of my cds, and that took time.  Way too much time.  I've probably only ever bought about 5 songs on iTunes.  I got my first laptop 3 months ago.

Rhino piss bath and so many lies

After a busy day of postal line-standing and soccer game-missing this weekend, I went to a friend's to hang out.  It was a lovely, crazy, kid-filled day.

When I returned home, I need a break.

The kids were in bed, I decided to take some "me" time.

The considerable amount of exercise this week has taken a told on my gymnastically abused joints, and an increased work load in my job has taken its mental toll.

Laziness 3,000 miles away cost my cute kid quota

Saturday was a nut-so day for us...in a crazy-good sort of way.  The hubs was at work, so I had both kiddos to entertain.

I had a shower gift to ship across the nation, so we first headed to the post office.  Apparently, the couple in front of us were moving their son's belongings via USPS to his college in Washington state.  EV-ER-Y-THING.  The guy behind the desk was working his ass off to maintain composure as the large, sweaty man hefted box after sweaty box onto the desk.

I'm playing hooky!

Please forgive my delinquency in not posting anything new today.

For those who may have missed something this week:

I watched Julia bind and gag a chicken...

was stared at by strangers...

laughed at a dancing toddler...

waterproofed my skin...

and sang a childhood church song!

What a week!  See why I need a breather?

Are you following me on Twitter and tweeted to everyone how much you love me?  Have you shared a link to my Facebook page?  Have you checked my Review Blog?

See, I can still keep you from doing what you were supposed to be doing today!

Have a fabulous weekend everyone!

When one line can mean so many different things

I've promised to not make this blog about politics, so I'll make my comment open-ended and general: "UGH!!!" That is all.

I've also promised to not go into a religion debate on here. It's not my thing. To each his own.

That said...My sister in blogging crime, Stay At Home Babe, inspired this entry.

I grew up with my grandma singing "This little light of mine" to me. A lot. I loved the song, knew all of the hand gestures, when to yell "NO" when Satan interfered, etc.

Years later, my boyfriend (husband now) got me tickets to see my all-time favorite real life celebrity.

I'm not talking about cartoon versus non-cartoon when I say "real life." I'm talking about non-Hollywood, real people with real experiences, that have nothing to do with the drama of their own self-promoted fame.

Dance like everyone is watching

Yesterday, I posted about playing peek-a-boo in public with my daughter while I pump gasoline.

Today, I was just doing my thing, and Yahoo posted this ad.

It made my day!!

Swallowing my pride and doing a jig

I used to say I didn't care what people thought.

A big "screw you" to anyone who questioned my hair, my clothes, whatever.

Of course, I cared. You all know that I always care about what others think.

Standing beside my car, shaking my head, playing peek-a-boo and dancing while I put gas in the car is a standard for me now.

People may talk.

I may care that they talk.

But every last one of them would stop to play peek-a-boo with the toddler munching on goldfish (yes, a bribe to be good) if they only saw her for a second.

So screw them for talking.

And not joining us.

That is all.

Food show leftovers - better 30 years later

The cooking channel is airing old school shows now. I LOVE them!

Julia Child is a part of my memory of random tv shows. Her voice still cracks me up.

Sidebar: I loved "Julie and Julia" and will make my own version of "Cort and Ree" when I cook my way through the Pioneer Woman cookbook. That is, once she gives the secret of how she looks so great when she cooks with all. that. butter!

I digress.

Today's cooking show include zoom shots of knives cutting herbs with carefully practiced finger positions. High definition cooking includes brightly colored backdrops, perfect lighting, and take after take after take to ensure a flawless delivery.

Winter means schlepping my ass up big hills

We have a huge hill of a driveway.

Occasionally, things roll down that hill.

During the winter, when the snow gets compacted, the only way to ensure that I can leave my house is to park my car by the road and walk the length of a football field (downhill, carrying kid plus groceries plus laptop, etc) to the house - to carry them all back up in the morning.

Four winters ago BLEW. We had just purchased the house, and our driveway was a muddy, mushy mess. Even when the snow/ice melted, the mud kept us from getting up and down the hill reliably.

Three winters ago SUCKED. I was commuting and people were depending on me to show up, but I was in shape so the hill really wasn't too much of a challenge. I still hated it.

Two winters ago was HARD. I was still commuting, wrapping up a physically intense job, and dealing with early pregnancy narcolepsy. Getting home to deal with a super-slick driveway was not the "welcome home" I needed.

Last year was FUCKING STUPID. I was working from home, but still had to go to the store, doctor's appointments, etc. Not only was I hauling my "new mom" ass up the hill, but I was carrying baby in bucket seat. Sonofabitch.

Between a rock and a UTI

I drive. A lot.

I used to commute 2.5 hours to and from work each day for 6 months a year.

I love to zen out on the highway (interstates are a little different) and go.

I knew that when I had my baby that I'd have to find a way to drive, mainly to visit family, with her. Driving during nap times, taking pit stops at favorite haunts along the way, not pushing it, staying overnight rather than drive round trips (whenever possible).

I had it all figured out.

Until I actually had my kid.

We were fine - most of the time - with trips. If she'd fuss, we'd stop. Got out. Nurse. Walk. Regroup.

I hadn't figured on the extra time it would take to do this regrouping.

The majority of my family is about a 2 hour drive from my home - no stops. With stops, it's more like 3 or 3 1/2 hours.

So what? What's different??

Momma's gotta pee! That's what!!

More than once, I've raced into my destination baby under one arm - running back style - racing into the the bathroom. No "hi" no nothing.

State. Of. Emergency.

I've never been able to deal with the gross factor of gas station bathrooms. I had the hover down pat. Until, I was huge preggo and couldn't counter balance. And then I stayed at home with new baby without the need to hover. I lost my hover muscles!

The fact that my travels are usually just baby and momma means that baby has to come with me into the bathroom if I go.

One day, when Babygirl was about 5 months old, we had to do it.

I was on my way to a wedding, 4 hours from home. And I had to pee.

I invoked the powers of the hover gods - held on tight to the little one - and hovered.

With strategic paper towel placement and copious amounts of hand sanitizer, we accomplished the task without infection (bladder or otherwise).

That was a rare moment that I said to myself - "I've got this."

I was able to improvise well enough to use restroom and NOT drop the kid off at the pool!

Gummy bears have failed me

I had tonsillitis a lot when I was a little kid.

A lot.

When I'd stay home from nursery school, they'd send a "Get Well" package that included a plastic cup with gummy bears inside.

I'd eat the gummy bears, and my sore throat would go away.

The magic of gummy bears!

So, I have a monster sore throat right now, and a huge shin-dig coming up this weekend. I cannot, will not be sick.

I bought gummy bears yesterday - they even have added Vitamin C! I downed 4 servings to ensure that my throat would get better.

I woke up this morning...

And my throat still hurts.

Fuck.

I've never been so proud of a fake tan

The last three days have been full of hard work.

Once a year, the hubs and I plan something at our house that forces us to actually do the things we've been saying we should the rest of the year.

This year, the major project was to get our 10+ year old deck stained. It has seen better days. MUCH better days, I think. It was in sorry condition when we bought the place and subjected it to two 80 pound dog nails, salt/ice/rain, the fact that it takes me at least 4 trips in and out of the door before I can actually leave to go anywhere.

As with any project, this one had to be done in pieces. During naps, after bedtime, but not when it was too hot (or the stain would dry before it was absorbed) or too dark.

With the assistance of an extra set of hands (my best friend came and stayed with us), we got the damn thing finished last night!!

Between my fingers, my toes. Like I was drunk fake-tan-lotioning.

I have stain where stain should never be, and although it is latex and allegedly water-based...it is still sticking around.

But I'll happily wear my stain because I worked hard - and finished a big project.

Woohoo!!

Labor Day - Not just a day to mark the end of white shoe weather

Happy Labor Day!

Originally created to celebrate trade and labor organizations in the late 1800s, Labor Day today commemorates the last long weekend until Thanksgiving.

To most, it is the day that marks the ending of summer, the beginning of fall. The return to school. The weekend to winterize the summer cabin and to get the boat pulled from the water. The last weekend to get a good tan. The last reason to eat too many brats and potato salad.

Yes, the labor organizations paved the way into 5 day, 40 hour work weeks. Compensation for long hours. Safety regulations. Workman's compensation.

For those of you that work much longer hours than you are paid - I salute you. I salute all of you out there that get up in the morning, and decide that - no matter what is handed to them in a day - they are going to face it head on. Chin up. Chest out.

I want to use this day to honor those women in my life that go above and beyond. Not only in their jobs, but in their lives. Several women very close to me are coming out of a rough couple of years. Those who know me personally know who they (or you) are.

In the face of adversity - when all they wanted to do was curl up and disappear - they made the choice. The decision to continue for their families. For others. They work their hours, they carry the burden of their children, their friends. They care when, at times, caring is the last thing that they want to do.

Keep on keepin' on, ladies. The world needs us. Every last one of us.

Now, go get you one last brat!!

Marked for life

I was leaving my counselor's office the other day, and as I turned to walk through her office door - she said, "Oh, you have a birthmark on the back of your neck. I've always found those [uncomfortable pause] interesting."

Damn.

Yes, I have a birthmark on the back of my neck. It's about the size of a finger nail or license plate or somewhere in between - depending on my age, hair style, mood, and sense of self-worth.

It is so strategically placed on my body, that I cannot physically see it unless two mirrors are involved. When I was a kid, I would try to turn my head fast enough to catch a glimpse in the mirror - like I could out run my image or something. I ended up like I was trying to bite my ear. Der!

In high school, people would tease me by saying that I had a hickey on my neck. (It actually looks more in the bruise strain rather than hickey-esque, but high schoolers are assholes. All of them.) I hated that I had something that stuck out. A target. The one good thing that came of it (shitting rainbow alert:) I was cautious to NOT get a hickey because I knew people would blow me shit over it.

My strapless dress and funky up-do at my wedding exposed the birthmark for all to see. I didn't care. Just like the prairie grass, mums, Teva sandals, and the intentional lack of veil or word "obey" in the vows, the wedding was very personalized. Exposed. And I dared anyone to question my decision to show my neck.

Now, there are weeks - even months - when I go without even thinking about my birthmark. I have gone through phases where I care to cover it up with a bob haircut, but I inevitably get hot (read: lazy) and throw my hair in a ponytail. My hair is very short in back now - and I don't care who sees it. To the point that I NEVER think about it, unless I'm double-mirroring to see if I fucked up my haircut or something.

So there I was - leaving a productive, yet tear-free session (fuckin' A!) and she kicks me in the Achilles heel.

She continued, "My cousin had one like that on his neck. It was interesting too."

Interesting? Would it sprout a head and recite Shakespeare? Could it name the state capitals in alphabetical order?

Mine is the source of my superpowers. All 23 of them.

So there.

Riding on E

Have you ever driven home trying to estimate how empty "E" really is on your gas tank?

Looking at where the pin is compared to the "E" line - and saying "well, it's at the top of "E" so I'm definitely not going to get stranded and have my dismembered body tossed into the corn to not be found until the vultures are picking at my bones.

(If no, you've probably judged me on my lack of foresight in previous posts. Turn on your judgey cap, because you'll need it!)

Yea, I was doing that today.

I also had an argument with Last Night Me. It was kind of like having a magic mailbox but without Keanu's squintiness, less romance, and more profanity.

Last Night Me
(time: last night as I pass the final station before delving into rural nowhere toward my home)
Sorry, Morning Me, I know I'm being an ass by not getting gas. The tank is close to empty, but the gas light hasn't turned on yet, so you'll be able to make it into town tomorrow.

Morning Me
(time: as I turn on the car and the gas light turns on)
Fuck. You're a dick, Last Night Me! Come on, I need to get the baby to daycare because you KNOW how much I hate doing the gas station thing getting her all riled up in the car and then try to leave her at daycare. Go to HELL, Last Night Me!

Minutes Later Morning Me:
(time: as I approach the gas station nearest to my house - which requires me to GO IN and pay because the pumps are older than sin, and I live in the country, and that's how things are)
GODDAMMIT, Morning Me! You left our fucking purse in the house! How about you pull your head out of your ass and grab the purse you KNEW you needed today. Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuck.

Returning From Daycare Drop-off Me:
(time: passing the gas station nearest my house after driving the 10 miles round trip to daycare, on the way back home with my tail between my legs)
Ok, so I don't have my cell phone, my wallet, the credit card I had in my back pocket that I put back in my purse because if I left it IN the pocket it would get lost - except that I have those pants on again today (thanks, Last Night Me, for your infinite wisdom). At least the baby is safe at daycare for when I'm stranded and get dismembered and tossed into the corn. But the pin is ONLY on the top of "E" maybe I'll be ok...

I made it home. The hubs is taking the car to town next.

Yes, I believe in full gas tank disclosure and told him how fumy the situation is.

He'll probably need to use lawn mower gas to make it out of our driveway.