Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Girl Scout Cookies

Am I the only one who wants to call those peanut butter cookies Tagalogs?  Seems like they would go better with the Samoas that way.

Monday, February 26, 2007

We Are A Family Of Eight Year Olds

David loves the word "Neptune".  He uses it to answer any question you ask him. 

"What would you like for breakfast?"
 "Neptune." 

"Do you have your library books?"
 "I have Neptune." 

It's exactly as annoying as you might guess.  I try mainly to ignore it.  Now factor in the constant whistling  between episodes of Neptune and you'll understand why sometimes we have the following conversation:

"How much homework do you have?"
 "Neptune." 
"For the love of God, that isn't a form of measurement!  You can't answer a 'how much' question with 'Neptune'!  At least say 'as much as the weight of Neptune' or 'the amount of time it would take to get to Neptune'."

I try to be attentive to his interests, though.  One day at dinner he was telling us about the screen saver he put on his computer at school. 

David  It's a really cool picture that I found.
Me:  Is it of Neptune?
David: No.
Juliana: Is it of Uranus?
Me: ::::laughing til I almost fall off my chair:::::

A few days later he came out of school and I asked what he had for homework.  They were doing a space unit in science and he replied that he had a little bit of math, some cursive, and that he had to finish coloring Uranus.  Cue hysterical laughter from me and Juliana.  David just rolled his eyes and walked ahead of us toward the van.  I try to be a mature role model, but there is no denying that Uranus jokes are funny 100% of the time. 

Sunday, February 25, 2007

The Stupid Family Goes To Soccer

Time for another installment of The Stupid Family!

David started playing soccer when he was four.  He loved the game from the start and he's continued to play every fall since then.  My favorite thing about watching him play is the huge grin that he simply can't contain.  His "game face" is one of complete joy.  Up until now, he's played soccer in the fall and either baseball or lacrosse in the spring.  This year, however, he made the decision to really zero in on soccer and play year round.  Next year he'll be in fifth grade and that's when the competitive league starts.  So this winter he decided to enroll in a program that works on skill building.  Right now his team is playing futsal which is a version of soccer which focuses on ball control.  The good thing about futsal is that it is played indoors.  The bad thing about it is that all of his games are first thing in the morning on weekends.  Between futsal and Sunday School we rarely have a weekend morning to lounge around.  In some ways it's good because we are getting a lot more accomplished by being up and out of the house on Saturday morning.  Sometimes we accomplish eating piles of pancakes at a post-game visit to a diner.  But generally, it's a matter of hustling people out the door.

Yesterday David's game was at 9:25.  We were taking two cars because Ritu wanted to go to his gym after the game.  The futsal place is downtown and requires about 20 minutes of highway driving to get there.  Here's the thing.  I am the worst driver you know.  As a result, I really don't like to drive.  I mean, I can do it, but it causes me great anxiety.  I am fine within the little bubble of my suburb, but I tend to avoid the highway when I can.  I'm the kind of driver who will pass up perfectly good parking spaces until I find one with enough room to guarantee that I won't hit other cars.  I'm the kind of driver who will learn one way to get someplace and never, ever vary it. 

It was pouring rain when Ritu left  with David.   David needs 4 things for futsal: his jersey, his shinguards, his water bottle, and his special shoes.  They don't allow regular soccer cleats on the futsal court.  Now, Ritu is a physician with 25 years of formal education (that is not an exaggeration) and David is a clever child who tested into the Gifted program at his school.  Needless to say, four items were too many for the two of them to accurately remember.  Juliana and I were almost to the futsal place when my cell phone rang.  It was Ritu calling to say that David had brought the wrong cleats and they wouldn't let them play.  I pulled over so that I wouldn't crash while I talked on my cell phone.  Ritu asked if by any chance there were a pair of his regular tennis shoes in the van, since he could play in those.  I took a quick look over my shoulder and confirmed that there weren't.  We decided I would go back home, get the right shoes, and bring them with the hopes that he could at least play part of the second half. 

I hung up the phone and started to hyperventilate over how to get home.  I only know one way to go and I'd aborted my route.  It was raining like crazy and I was now wandering around an unfamiliar area.  But God smiled and it took me only a few minutes to find a freeway entrance.  Traffic moved maddeningly slow in the rain, but I went as fast as I could back home.  I flew through our neighborhood, whipped into the driveway and just barely cleared the still-opening garage door.  I slammed the van into park and flung open the door to the laundry room.  I scanned the shoe rack.  No futsal shoes.  A tiny light went on in my brain.  I returned to the van, opened the back door and found David's futsal shoes in the back row where HE'D LEFT THEM AFTER LAST WEEK'S GAME.

I know it's hard to believe, but I do try to watch my language around my children.  (Once, when Juliana was about three, I was muttering something to Ritu about not believing somebody could be so fucking stupid when Juliana ran up to me and said, "I heard you say a bad word!  You said "stupid"!)  But not this time.  As I realized that I had actually taken David's shoes on a tour of I-5, effectively leading them AWAY from their destination, I let loose with a torrent of foul language.   I was so mad that the things I was saying didn't even go together.  It was like swearing translated into Japanese and then back again.  I may have actually been foaming at the mouth.  I know for sure that I need to add  $20 to Juliana's therapy jar. 

Back on the road I went.  I retraced my way back down the highway, through the blinding rain.  Ritu called to tell me that the game had reached halftime.  I told him we were all too stupid to live.  Fueled by adrenaline and vitriol, I made it to futsal before halftime ended.  David got his shoes on and the coach put him in.  I gritted my teeth and willed my blood pressure to drop.  David got his "game face" on.  Grinning, he scored three goals in the second half.  His team still lost, but it was a heck of a performance.  It was so fun to watch that I abandoned my plan to superglue the futsal shoes to his feet.  If this happens again next week, though, we are abandoning the game all together and heading straight for the pancakes. 

Friday, February 23, 2007

Ooops, if that doesn't work

If you're getting nothing but empty boxes where the pictures should be on my last post, you can see the same thing at this site.

This Counts As A Post

I'm not much of an email forwarder, but I got this in my email and it totally cracked me up.  The subject line was "Let's Face It, We've All Been Frustrated In Exams"

















Thursday, February 22, 2007

Have A Nice Trip!

We've established before that walking with Juliana has a certain challenge to it.  If you imagined that this was merely a passing phase, you were wrong. 

Last Tuesday found us at the San Diego airport on our way back from the wedding.  We'd gotten there with plenty of time to spare, as I am afflicted with Pathologically Early Personality Disorder and I'd been enjoying sitting and working my way through an In Style magazine while the kids played their gameboys.  As boarding time approached, Juliana and I visited the bathroom.  I made my way across the gate area with her right on my heels.  Striding purposefully, I headed to the bathroom door.  Suddenly I felt myself lifted off of my feet.  I hung in the air, parallel to the ground, for a disproportionate amount of time.  While airborne, I realized that my darling sprite of a daughter had tangled up her feet in mine and completely laid me out.  I fell to the ground in an anvilicious way, landing hard on my right hip, elbow, and the heel of my right hand. Lying there on the floor just outside the airport bathroom, I tried to gather my senses. I felt grateful for the carpeting which most likely prevented my wrist bone from snapping and ripping jaggedly through my skin.  Juliana looked at me in horror and asked if I was all right.  I gathered every bit of parental fortitude, clenched my hands into fists and resisted the urge to backhand her.   How could I be mad at her for loving life so much that she needs to skip and dance through it?  Fuck that, the little twerp nearly put me into traction.  I hauled myself up off the floor and  gave her lecture #763,000 on moving her body carefully through space and using her walking feet.  But next time we travel, I'm packing a helmet.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

New Year, Same Sweet Song

Juliana got a big mylar heart-shaped balloon free at Safeway the day after Valentine's Day.  On Monday she was hugging it to her and singing this song:

When I hug a big heart
It feels like I am kissing love
When it's bigger than my face
I hug it and it feels so good
Especially when I kiss the word love
I will sing a hug-a-by for everyone
I will sing a hug-a-by with a great big hug
When I hug a big heart
I give it a big hug-a-by
I'm full of love!


Now, I'll admit that it doesn't have quite the same poetic lilt as this song, but it's nice to know that another year of life hasn't beaten her down in any way.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Try A Different Testament

Last week at dinner, we had the following conversation:

Juliana:  Today during music, my friend hugged me and said we were Sisters in Christ. 

Me:  Yeah, not so much really.

Juliana: I don't even know what that means.


Me:  Well, it means she thinks you both believe in Jesus.

Juliana: (making big eyes and starting to stammer) But I don't!

Me:  It's ok.  If she says that again, you can just tell her... um... you can tell her "No, thank you."  Or maybe you can tell her you are Sisters in Music or Sisters in Jumprope or something.

David:  Tell her you're Sisters in Moses.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

Hi Rabbi!

My family joined a synagogue here about 4 years ago.  It's a fairly small, liberal congregation and we all felt at home there fairly quickly.  The majority of the families there are interfaith; hell, there's even another Hinjew couple.  Our congregation has gone through a number of transitions, but this past summer we contracted with a new rabbi and she has breathed a new life into things.  I was so pleased with the direction things were heading that I volunteered to become the Membership Chairperson.  It's been a lot of work, but I have had such a positive experience with this synagogue that I was thrilled to be able to share my sense of connection with others. 

The Membership position is also a board position.  Our meetings are actually pretty fun, especially since we instituted the practice of bringing chocolate and red wine.  This morning, though, we had a "board retreat".  I always hate going to things like that.  The whole idea of team-building makes me cringe and by God, if you try to make me role play, you are risking bodily harm.  But the fact of the matter is that when these things are done skillfully, you are left feeling re-focused and re-energized and it is time well spent.  (Well, not role playing, of course.  Role playing is always evil.) 

This retreat was well run and despite the fact that I have the worst cold known to man, I'm glad I went.  (There was zero role playing.)  At one point, the facilitator asked us all to share something about ourselves that other people didn't know.  Now, maybe it was my congested head that impaired my thinking, or maybe it was my glee at not having to role play, but here's what I decided would be the best little known fact to share with the synagogue board:  "I have a blog." 

Yeah, I'm sure that won't come back to bite me on the ass. 

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Juliana's Birth Story

Did you think I wasn't going to post today?  That I'd break my streak at two consecutive days?  Ye of little faith! 

Today is Juliana's 7th birthday, so in honor of that (and the fact that I have a cold and I couldn't be entertaining if I tried), I am posting her birth story.  I wrote this right after she was born.  This was back when we lived in North Carolina.  David was 2 1/2 at the time.  I remember thinking he was so grown up.  Now when I look back at pictures and videos, I realize he was still a baby himself. 


After days of debating when my in-laws should fly down to help, we finally decided on Feb 17th.  This was after going to the hospital to be checked on Saturday the 12th, when I thought I was leaking amniotic fluid.  I wasn't, but I turned out to be 2 cm dilated, whereas I hadn't been dilated at all a few days earlier.  Since I didn't dilate til I was in labor with David, we thought maybe things would start soon, but the weekend ended with nothing happening. As I wasn't due til the 28th, I wasn't too surprised.  I figured my in-laws and I would spend a week sitting around staring at each other waiting for me to go into labor, but it would be worth it to have somebody on hand to stay with David when the time finally came. 

I went back to the doctor on Wednesday the 16th and was still 2 cm.  The doctor stripped my membranes.  La de dah, nothing happening.  On Thursday, I woke up whiny and tired.  Ritu got up to go to work.  I usually get up and shower when David wakes up, but I didn't feel like it.  Ritu brought David into my room when he left for work, and I called my friend Kim and whined that I was hungry and didn't want to get out of bed.  She said she'd make me french toast if I got up and showered and dressed and went to her house.  So, I did, and we ended up having a nice big brunchwith a few other friends, too.  (Kim now calls it Labor Inducing French Toast.)

I brought David home for nap and noticed I was having a few contractions.  They weren't regular, but definitely felt stronger than the ones I'd been having all along. My in-laws were due to arrive from Detroit around 3 PM.  (A big snowstorm hit the midwest that day and they got on one of the last flights before Detroit shut down the airport.)  Ritu got home around 2:00 and I told him about the contractions.  Just for fun, I started telling him when they were and he timed them.  They were 15-20 minutes apart, but getting stronger.  After about 1 1/2 hours like that  (my in-laws arrived in the midst of this), they started coming 10-12 minutes apart and stronger.  I quietly came upstairs and finished packing my hospital bag.  After another 45 minutes or so, they were 8-10 minutes apart.  My OB said to come right to the hospital whenever they got fairly regular...not to wait too long since David's birth went relatively quickly.  

At around 5:30, I told Ritu I really thought we should head to the hospital.  We had planned to take his parents to the Japanese Steak House for dinner and he said, "Are you sure we can't go to dinner first?"  HELLO??  I am at the point where I can't walk or talk during contractions and he wants to go to dinner first!  (Let me just add here how good the food was at that japanese steak house.  Now that I'm not in labor, I can see why he pushed--ha, no pun intended--to still go there.)

I said goodbye to David (thrilled that he had a few hours to get acclimated to his grandparents) and we headed off.  In the car, they started coming 5 minutes apart.  I was a little skeptical because these contractions just didn't hurt as much as the ones I had when I was in labor with David, so I wasn't sure what they would find, but I figured this was really labor.

It took me awhile to get checked in because, for some reason, having been there the Saturday before, my paperwork got pulled out of the system.  Ritu was about ready to get on the phone himself when they got it straightened out.  I had wanted a labor/delivery/recovery room, but they were all filled, so I got put into a labor room, which was nice, but they said I couldn't deliver in it.  

They checked me and I was 4 cm, 100% effaced and the baby was at zero station.  I asked for my epidural and my OB said sure and that I could have some Nubain while I waited.  I related how with David, I had labored on my own to almost 7 cm and then had my epidural and he said, "And nobody gave you a medal, did they?"  I promptly accepted his offer of Nubain.

The Nubain worked instantaneously.  I still felt the contractions, but the edge was waaaayyyy off them and I felt kind of drunk.  I couldn't focus my eyes, so my focal point kept turning into two focal points.  I was a happy girl at that point.  Apparently I started calling people on the phone and telling them, "I'm having nubain!"  They went to start my IV with the fluids that precede the epidural and took about three tries to find a decent vein.  Finally they got it going and just as the nubain was wearing off, the anesthesiologist came in.  The epidural got hooked up quickly, but it wasn't helping a whole lot.  My legs were numb, and my butt, but that was about it.  After about an hour of still having to breathe through the contractions, they called the anesthesiologist about upping my dose.  He approved it, but it was a new pump and I had 3 nurses and Ritu trying to figure out how to re-program the dosage.  They never did figure it out, I don't think, and I continued to breathe through the contractions.  Ritu assured me that I wasn't feeling them until almost their peak, but they still hurt.

Around 10:00 they were coming very fast and we figured I was in transition.  My doctor checked me around 10:30 and said I was 10 cm and could start pushing.  He said I could go ahead and deliver in the labor room, after all.  With my first push, my water broke and there was some meconium in it, so they said I would have to go to the delivery room and they would call the NICU team.  So, there I was having pushing contractions while being wheeled down the hall to the delivery room....at least it wasn't the middle of the day with tour groups going through!  THEN I had to get myself off the bed and onto the delivery table. I looked at the nurse and said, "You have got to be kidding me!", but managed to scooch myself over.  Once settled, I pushed three more times and there she was!


Juliana Sarita was born at 11:22 PM on February 17th.  She was 21 inches long and weighed 7 lbs 13 oz.  She's been bringing us joy ever since.  Happy Birthday, baby.


Friday, February 16, 2007

Recipe For A Perfect Morning

1.  When your alarm goes off at 6:15 so you can get up and exercise, lie there and register your cramps, then shoot awake in a panic realizing that you forgot to do your Tooth Fairy role last night. 

2.  Run downstairs, find a dollar, run back upstairs and sneak into Juliana's dark room.  As you slide your hand under the pillow, hear Juliana whisper, "I haven't checked yet." 

3.  Check together, find the tooth and the note to the Tooth Fairy still intact.   Rack your uncaffeinated mind then point out that since she's lost two teeth in three days, maybe the Tooth Fairy wasn't expecting to come back so soon. 

4.  Give up any thoughts of exercising and snuggle with your daughter in your bed.  Try to convince her not to turn 7 tomorrow.  Six has been a really great year.

5.  When it's finally time to get up, send her to the bathroom then scramble back to exchange the tooth for a dollar.  Shove the note asking "Dear Tooth Fairy, What do you use our teeth for?  Please leave an answer." behind the headboard so you can pretend like the Tooth Fairy never saw it. 

6.  Take the kids to school along with two dozen cupcakes for Juliana's class.  Have a cupcake emergency on the way as one of the packages slides off the other and opens just enough to toss half the cupcakes onto their sides.  (By the way, if I had a band, I would totally name it Cupcake Emergency.)

7.  Get snipped at by the school secretary for daring to interrupt her as you attempt to do yet another volunteer job for the school.

8.  Run around the school like a mad-woman because it's an early release day and you don't want to spend all morning there.

9.  Realize that on top of your cramps, you have a headache from wearing your brand new progressive lens bifocals.  Stop to ponder how old and run down you are.

10.  Have a hot flash that necessitates you coming home and putting on a fresh shirt.  Toss that sweaty shirt into the third load of laundry you're already on.

11.  Savor the thought of a nice long weekend with your darling children.  They'll be home at lunchtime today and they don't go back to school until Wednesday.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Back! And With Pictures!

All righty, I'm done with the sucky blogging.  From this day forward, I'm going to try and post something every day, even if it's something quick.  The longer I go between posts, the harder it is for me to get jump-started.

ANYhow, we just got back from a long weekend in San Diego.  Ritu's brother got married on the beach at the Hotel Del Coronado.  It was a simple, intimate, and  beautiful affair. 

Here's a view of the hotel from the beach:


It rained the day of the wedding.  Laura had her heart set on being married on the beach and with only 20 guests and a quick and easy set-up, they were able to wait until the last minute when the sun miraculously came out.
Here's the bride joyfully stepping onto the beach:

My kids both got to be in the wedding.  For Juliana, it was an absolute dream come true.  She got to be a flower girl! A flower girl!!  I never got to be a flower girl and I had to stop myself from grabbing the basket of rose petals out of her hands.  David got to be the ring bearer.  While Juliana would've slept in her dress, he barely tolerated wearing the white shirt and khakis required of him.  Could they be cuter?

Seriously, could they?

The whole event was all-in-the-family.  Neal and Laura asked Ritu to officiate the ceremony.  California has a Wedding Commisioner for a Day program that granted him the authority to do that.  I tell you, that man was drunk on power for weeks.