Mandajuice

Boy Stats: 12 Months

Okay, we're doing our Mad TV "look what I can do" imitation:

At 12 months to the day - Alex:

Understands:
No
No touching

Outside
Sit down (aka On your bottom)
I'm gonna get you
Hot (he learned this one two nights ago by touching a lightbulb - ouch!)
Eyes, nose, ears, mouth, teeth, belly, feet, hands
Spit that out

Says:
Up (up up up)
Down (da - always while nodding in an "I dream of Genie" way)
Mama
Dada
Grandma (Ba-ma or ma-ma with the emphasis on the second ma)
Grandpa (Ba-pa)
Bye Bye (ba ba - usually while waving)
Hot (taaahhhhhh - he gets it backwards)
Bath (ba)
Yeah (ya)
ah ah ah (meaning no)
Blueberry (brbrbr brbrb)
Meow (mow)

Alex:
Dances
Plays his Sesame Street Saxophone (and knows how to hold it just like grandpa's)
Retrieves books by name
Rolls anything with wheels while saying "brrmrmrm brrrmrmrmm"
Sings
Put's everything up to his ear like a phone

Goes down the porch steps without injury
Puckers up and gives kisses
Claps and bams on everything
Blows bubbles in water
Climbs on everything
Plays peek a boo - aka Where's Alex?
Hides behind furniture
Laughs when you tell him his feet stink
Clucks his tongue
Nods Yes and No
Waves
Plays ball with Harry

Loves:
Barney & Teletubbies
Any music - but is especially prone to dancing at techno/house/rap music
Strawberries

Ice
Pumpkins
Scooting cars around
Baths
Water/Swimming
The ocean
Being rocked
Playing on the deck
His Blanky

Happy Birthday Baby

On this day last year I bolted out of bed at exactly 6:29AM and ran into the bathroom, expecting terrible diarrhea, a frequent visitor towards the end of my pregnancy. I was ten days overdue and counting. So I struggled out of my uber-panties as fast as I could and sat there. After five minutes of waiting, I went back to bed - too tired to wait any longer. At 6:39, the cramps were back and I waddled over to the bathroom - only to wait it out again. By the time 6:49 rolled around and the pain started back up again, I knew the gig was up. Labor had begun.

At first I was giddy. SO happy and relieved that I'd started having contractions on my own. Throughout the entire pregnancy, I was just sure I was going to have to be induced. The appointment was already scheduled for the next day and I was SO thrilled that I'd get to cancel it. I decided to let Dave sleep another half hour, which reminded me of when those two little pink lines had first appeared. I had waited almost a week before telling him, savoring the earth-shattering news until I could surprise him on our anniversary - all the while watching him flit away his final minutes of not knowing.

Finally, at 7:29, I woke him up and gave him the good news. Today was the day. Dave immediately sprung into action, took a shower, got dressed and ready, all the while making sure I was happy and comfortable. He was great. A tad hyperactive, but great. My contractions were like clockwork - every ten minutes. If I stood up and walked around, every 6-7 minutes, if I sat on the toilet - every 4 minutes. It was the same all day.

Um, did I mention yet that it hurt like hell? That it felt like some crazy little monkey was in there twisting my insides into intricate knots? That all that breathing crap was nonsense? That in all the birth classes and instructional videos where they tell you that walking or sitting on your hands and knees, etc will help you "progress", they completely leave out the important fact that ANYTHING THAT CAUSES LABOR TO 'PROGRESS' HURTS MORE!?!?! A LOT MORE?!?!?

All I wanted to do was sit and rock in my green chair and hold Harry on my lap. All those magazines and puzzles I'd bought to kill time at the hopsital? Completely useless. I couldn't do anything but focus on my body. For me, labor was an out of mind experience. Which is somewhat similar to what I imagine an "out of body" experience is like, only opposite. My brain exited and all that was left was this total body experience I was going through. It was not pretty.

By 3:00 my contractions were 3-4 minutes apart and getting stronger. We waited for Carol to return from Safeway with our birthday cake and we left for the hopsital. By the time my first nurse checked me at 5:00, I was 5 cm dialated and progressing well. Two hours later I was at 8 cm.

And did I mention the pain already? Because it frickin hurt.

By 10PM, I was STILL at 8 cm. Only now it was getting REALLY bad. By really bad I mean that I couldn't feel my arms anymore, because they had gone numb. Not because I was grabbing on to the bed or squeezing Dave's hand, but because I was just SO tense through each contraction that I somehow managed to cut off circulation to my extremities. And then there was the shaking. My entire body was going full-bore - like I was the space shuttle re-entering the earth's atmosphere. Oh. And there was the screaming. At that point I'm not sure I even knew that I was the one doing the screaming. I just knew it was pretty loud.

So, when, for the 100th time in 4 hours, even though I had insisted, INSISTED, on having natural childbirth, they offered me the epidural, I said yes. I was fearful and reluctant, but also relieved. Of course then I had to wait for the IV, which took three tries and for the anesthesiologist to show up. But he did. And my beautiful dream of having natural childbirth went out the door.

Not that all my beautiful dreams about childbirth weren't already shot to hell. I mean, those dreams involved me doing amazingly impossible things like breathing through the pain and picturing peaceful images. Yeah right. Did I mention yet how bad it frickin HURT?!?!?

So, the epidural man became my best friend. I went from screaming and shaking and generally not keeping my shit together to laughing and smiling and using the hang-loose sign to indicate to my husband that another contraction was starting. I highly recommend it. It was most excellent.

For about 5 contractions.

Then the pain started creeping back in, slowly at first. And then it wasn't so much creeping back in as it was barrelling down on me with the weight of a semi truck - only worse because now I had the added benefit of a lovely pitocin drip. And then I was shaking again and I could hear somebody screaming really loudly and they wouldn't stop. Where is the anesthesiologist? Get him back in here!!!! This stupid thing isn't WORKING!?!?!?

Oh, ooops, me again.

And even though my former friend, the epidural man, came back in two times and administered heavy doses of promised pain relief, I did not feel better. No sir. The epidural had not been properly inserted. Sure, my thighs were numb. But my angry girly parts? Not so lucky. Those girls felt everything.

And by almost midnight, I was finally at 10 cm and a Doctor, who was not MY doctor, was called and a nurse had her hands in painful places stretching body parts I never knew I had and my feet were in stirrups and everything was happening so so fast. A cutting device appeared out of nowhere and there was the STINGING, the immensly painful STINGING as I was sliced and the look on my husband's face was awful. He was trying SO hard to be supportive and loving and wonderful, but he looked exactly how he felt - like he thought I was going to die any second. He has never seen more gore in his life.

And then suddenly I was pushing and everyone was counting. And even though I was allowed to stop pushing after they reached the magic ten, I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. The thought of wasting even one second of a contraction to "rest" seemed ridiculous to me. I wanted this to be OVER. I wanted my BABY. So I pushed and pushed and pushed until they could see a head. And I was screaming and crying and PUSHING so hard.

Um, did I forget to mention that, despite how great the birth prep class lady had professed pushing would feel and how happy I'd be to finally get to push, it FRICKIN HURT!!?!?!

So, pushing, yeah. I was pushing. Hard. And all of a sudden there was this BABY coming out of me and he was slimy and pink and beautiful and crying! he was crying! and peeing! all over the doctor and the nurses. And then he was on my stomach and I scooped him up and smothered his slimy little self with love. Nothing had ever felt so good to me in all my life. And then there was Dave, sobbing away next to me, and the Doctor is telling him to clear up the tears so he can see well enough to cut the umbilical cord. And he does.

Our beautiful boy weighed 8 lbs, 13 ounces and was 21 3/4 inches long. And perfect. Did I mention how perfect he is?

Yet another list post. Aren't you SO excited?!?

What I Learned This Weekend

1. I love making new friends. New friends with whom I have TONS in common are even better. Jamie came over with Joe on Saturday while our hubs went to a gun show. The burgers at Santana Row were excellent and the boys were both well-behaved. It's been ages since I've met someone I like as much as Jamie. I mean AGES as in maybe never. We have THAT MUCH in common. Our little people even make the exact same brrrmm brrrmm car noises - we both kept doing double takes. It was freaky.

2. Talk less, listen more! I got so excited about making such a nifty new friend that I fear I gabbed too much. And Jamie has such great stuff to say! Next time I promise to let her get a word in edgewise.

3. Jamie mentioned how Joe thinks it's hilarious when his feet smell bad. So of course I had to try it on Alex. Smell his feet, make a grossed-out face and he CRACKS the F up. We spent a good hour this weekend laughing at his stinky feet. It was gold. Further evidence that bodily function humor is a purely genetic male behavior. So much for the whole genderizing issue. Boys are born to laugh at farts.

4. There is no better sound on earth than my baby's laughter.

5. I need to find a bowtie, preferably black velvet, in a size 12-18 months. Any suggestions?

Another Flashback

Written Sept 25, 2003:

1 Week Overdue

Still no baby yet!

I'm officially a week overdue. Now that we're both feeling better, I'm getting anxious for the baby to hurry up and get here. I've continued to have the nagging back/stomach pain that I experienced last week on and off. I think there just isn't enough room in my tummy for a regular sized meal - so if I happen to eat one, I'm sorry afterwards.

I came back home from my parents house on Sunday and got to work cleaning/nesting. Now everything is pretty much ready. I even have all of the laundry and ironing done. Not that I'm scrubbing the house clean - I don't have the energy for that at all. Not to mention the fact that bending over has become an olympic event.

On Tuesday we saw the doctor again. And just in the nic of time. I realized at about 2:35 that I hadn't been feeling the baby move much all day. I did a kick count from that point on and the baby didn't move for more than an hour. It really freaked me out. Fortunately my husband came home early to take me to the 4:00 appointment. Of course he freaked out even more than I did. We rushed over to the dr's office and got in early.

Fortunately, the heartbeat was strong. Nothing had ever sounded so good to me. I was seriously worried and in tears thinking that something was wrong. The doc also did a non-stress test, during which they hook you up to the external monitors and you get to listen/watch the baby's heartbeat for 30 minutes. It showed he was moving around fine and everything looked perfect. It was such a
relief. Now I've been feeling him move pretty regularly - it's just that the movements aren't as strong as they were before.

The other excellent news at the doctor's office was that I've progressed a little bit. I'm now 85% effaced and the baby is at zero station. Thank god!! He even said it seemed likely that I'd go into labor on my own. (I'm still skeptical). But it was great news. My husband was so happy to hear it that he rushed over and gave me a big kiss. The strange thing is that I thought I'd notice when the baby dropped and I still can't really tell any difference.

Being home from work has been strange. I'm really tired so I've mainly been trying to rest a lot. I'm definitely bored. Yesterday I went to a noon showing of Matchstick Men and today I think I'll go to Macy's to look for a bathrobe. It just feels so sneaky to be out driving around at 11:00 am or 2 in the afternoon. Like I'm cutting school or something. When you combine total boredom with the anticipation that the hugest event of your life can happen literally at any moment, you basically walk around in a daze.

I am SO ready for this baby to be born now.

--Last paragraph edited for TMI. To summarize, the husband and I attempted to induce labor the fun way (well, as fun as it can be at 9+ months pregnant). Needless to say, it was unsuccessful.

A Delightful Little Post

We've noticed a disturbing trend at the office lately - tragedy seems to befall all of our clients at once.

One couple's 12 year old son has lymphoma. Another client is losing his battle with prostate cancer just in time to miss his 50th wedding anniversary. Another has fallen into a deep depression after her mother died. And the worst? One of our favorite clients lost their adult daughter to suicide, the second of their four children to take their own life. I have no idea how they will even begin to cope with it.

And when I say I have no idea, I mean I. Have. No. Idea. You see, I'm blocking all of this bad news out. I'm not letting it in to the trusty part of my brain that processes all the unhappy thoughts. Nope. Access denied. I'm simply not going there.

Maybe it's something about becoming a parent and how that makes you more vulnerable than you ever imagined possible. Or maybe my armour is getting tougher. Either way, my mind has prevented me from empathizing with these folks - as dear to me as they are - I'm simply not willing to put myself in their shoes. I have all the sympathy in the world for them and I'm the first to offer help or a shoulder to lean on. But I'm not even trying to imagine what it's like for them.

I just can't get my head around death anymore. Doing so might force me to admit that, while slight, the possibility exists that something might someday happen to my child.

And I'm just not ready to go there. Maybe someday. Maybe never. But definitely not now.

1 Day Overdue

Here's what I wrote this time last year:

1 Day Overdue

Thankfully, the baby hasn't arrived yet. I'm hoping he'll stay put another week or so until we're feeling better. I took Dave to the doctor on Wednesday, since we'd been up half the night with him in cold sweats with a fever over 102. The doctor took one look at me (gigantically pregnant) and said that we needed to be as far apart as possible. See, we had both been dumb enough to assume that the cold I have is the same cold that Dave ended up with. But no. His was the *flu*. So I went home and drove right to my parents house so as to avoid coming down with it myself. I've been here since Wednesday freaking out that I might go into labor before he gets better. They would *NOT* let him into labor and delivery with me right now. No way. He's way too sick.

It's strange. I really miss him. Not that it isn't nice being taken care of by my mom, but I just miss my guy. Especially since he's sick. I wish I could take care of him.

Then, as if the ear infection/cold weren't enough, I almost went to the hospital last night because of back pain. I worked until about 2 and my back started KILLING me on the drive home from work. I worried that it was a sign of early labor (since it WAS my due date), but the pain seemed up too high to be that. By the evening the pain had spread to my stomach and I was just dying. I assumed that it was some gastric-bypass related problem since I knew it wasn't the baby. But it was really awful - 8 out of 10 on the pain scale at least. I kept thinking - if this is labor - give me the freakin epidural NOW. Which is horrible considering I want to have natural childbirth. But the back pain was CONSTANT - no reprieve
in between contractions (which is what I'm expecting labor to be like). I finally made myself go to bed around midnight and fortunately slept a few hours. It got better as the night went on and I woke up feeling relatively fine. I'm thinking it was just gas. And if you've ever seen a diagram of how smushed a woman's intestines are at 9 months pregnant, you'd understand why gas could be such a problem!

Now I feel bloated and my stomach still hurts. I think it's because I am already at my maximum potential circumference and the gas just stretched me out even more. It's so uncomfortable and makes it difficult to get up and down.

Thank god today was my last day of work.

I just got back to my parents house to find that my sweet, sweet husband sent me flowers. The card said "I miss you and the Bubby very much" - it almost made me cry. We've decided that since he's feeling better (and we calculated it based on when the flu is contagious) that I'll go home Sunday. Till then I'm stuck here with my parents. My grandparents are here tonight and my brother's coming home from school, so it won't be too bad.

Let's just hope Mr. Bubby Guy stays put until Sunday!
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Two thing strike me reading that. One is that I had totally forgotten about us even getting sick the week of my due date. I barely even remember it as I'm reading what I wrote about it. One more piece of evidence to prove that childbirth causes permanent memory loss and parental stupidity.

The second thing that cracks me up is that weird pain I was having was NOTHING. Sure, it kept me up one night and I felt like I was going to burst. But compared to CHILDBIRTH, that pain was like the small sting of ripping off a bandaid or stubbing a toe. At the time 8 out of 10 on the painscale was pretty awful, but the painscale itself has so astronomically shifted for me that in hindsight, what I felt that night was a 1 out of 10. Nothing serious and certainly not worth a trip to the ER. Damn, I used to be such a wuss!!

Lessons Learned

On my way home from work last night, I learned two things.

1) I miss Alex more and more as my work day progresses - the worst time is just before 5:30 when I finally get to scoop him up and smother him after being away all day. Working late - even just an hour - is like missing out on that last 10 minutes of sleep after hitting the snooze button. I really, REALLY missed him. Hearing him "Ma Ma" in the background when I called to say I was on the road home was like torture. I just wanted to be there already.

2) Chasing candy corns with Vitamin Water (aka Sugar Water)? Not such a great idea for someone whose plumbing has been rerouted in such a way as to NOT digest sugar. The resulting LOW blood sugar two hours later almost killed me. If you've never experienced a true hypoglycemic episode, imagine drinking 10 times your usual caffeine intake. It's like that. Only worse.

On the way home, I realized that the candy stash I usually keep in my car is a good thing, but only if I actually replenish it! There was no food, no drink, no candy to be found and I was stuck in traffic!!?!?! I actually, only for a mere second, contemplated drinking the breastmilk I had pumped for Alex. I beat that thought out of my head immediately then kicked it for being so downright nasty. Yuck!

When I finally did get home, it was only a little bit hard to decide between smothering my child and procuring nourishment. Of course I went for the milk carton - straight from the fridge. "Putting my oxygen mask on first" as I've heard other parents say. My hands were so shaky by that point I doubt I could've held him anyways.

He was busy having fun with Dad, so I was quickly forgiven. I just adore his jammied little self!

The Purple Place

Thanks to my parents generosity (and their donation of a certain pre-IPO stock), me, the husband and our offspring have lifetime free passes to the Children's Discovery Museum in downtown San Jose. We took advantage Sunday and got out of the house on Alex's first rainy day.

The Dooderpants had a ball. He LOVES the waterways exhibit. Unfortunately, I'm Lame, with a capital L when it comes to photography and have ZERO skills for catching our crazy monkey on "film". Does anyone now how to set a digital camera to toddler mode? I filled up the memory card, but all I have is one giant blur.

These are the best of the bunch:

The best part of the trip, though, occurred after the memory card was full. I have no idea why, but on our way out to the car Alex had to stop and hug one of the parking lot posts. "Hug" being a nice word I'm using here instead of what he really did to it, which was much more graphic. More like something teenagers do in dark movie theatres. He LOVED the parking lot post. A lot.

Then, as if that wasn't enough, he got on his hands and knees and LOVED a big greasy oil spot. That's our boy!

"Ba Ba" Cellphones

Aaarrggh! I am SO MAD at Verizon. We've only had our phones since July and NEITHER of them will charge up anymore. Dave's screen has also been acting funky since day one (of course when I tried to bring it back to Circuit City the first time, it started working perfectly). So yesterday, we head out to have them returned to the manufacturer and to get new phones.

The customer service broad opens up the back of both phones and immediately says "water damage". Apparently, we've somehow managed to get BOTH phones wet enough to ruin them already. Of course neither of us can figure out HOW, but it's supposedly our fault nonetheless. Nevermind that I've owned about six different cell phones over the past decade, which were used in the exact same way that these phones were, and have never had a problem. Normal use! It shouldn't wreck a phone in 2 months...

Needless to say, we're $250 poorer and now have the cheapest phones known to man. (although one surprising benefit of cheap phones - fewer features I'll never use!) This time we have phone insurance. If I weren't such a good citizen, I'd "accidentally" drop this one just to get Verizon back.

At least now Alex has TWO new toys to hold up to the back of his head and shout into.

In other news, Senor Pantalones is beginning to grasp the NO concept. While snuggling in bed this morning, he pointed to the lamp and said "ah ah ah" - which is what both my mom and I say sternly when he's getting into something he shouldn't. It works about as well on the boy as it does on the dog. Progress!

Oh, and he's saying "bye bye" now. It started one day with Teletubbies and now it's constant - if he hears a car start up, when we go upstairs, whenever we open the front door, even when we're getting home. He waves big and says "ba ba". I need to get it on video.

Belly-versary

Alex's due date was one year ago tomorrow. I looked about like this:

And why, you might ask, would I allow anyone to photograph me in such a state? Blame it on my mother. In fact, if you saw the photos like a film reel, you'd see me standing on the porch, looking lovely on my last day of work before maternity leave. Then, the photos would progressively be shot from lower and lower angles, until you realize that my mother is lying on the ground taking up shots of my gianormosity. Finally, I grapple the camera from her and document her total loss of composure as she rolls around on the driveway laughing at me. (If I can find more, I'll post them later.)

I was that huge.

And to think he waited ELEVEN more days after that picture was taken!