Monkey brain is my description for my thought process when I'm scattered, overtired, overstimulated, or high on one too many lattes. Or the ugly underbelly of how my posts come out when written in the middle of the night. You may have to apply your own structure to my sentences in this post, as it is 2:10 am.
Homestead Mama had a softball game Tuesday (last) night, and as usual I brought Pequita, who is still pretty wowed & easy to entertain by the whole scene and all the fawning teammates. I have been the team's scorekeeper for years, which I do now only as Pequita allows. My friend Renaissance Mom has been coming to games this year, as her girlfriend is on our team. She has 3 young boys, and is fantastic with Pequita - she held her during our last game until Pequita fell asleep, and last night entertained our tired fussy baby for an hour while I kept score until nothing would do but sitting on the saddle of my bump and playing with my necklace. Renaissance Mom shared her fried fish sandwich with me which seemed the most delicious thing ever - my appetite is great, but my desire for food is nil until I am presented with it. Yum. I have had almost no fish in the past 18 months since I want to avoid the mercury in most seafood; Homestead Mom has joined me in the moratorium. She thought I was crazy but went along it, and felt better about it all a few months ago when the news broke that pregnant women shouldn't eat canned tuna of any kind since it seems there is a high enough level of mercury in even the good stuff that it is inadvisable. I told her that we can eat fish all we want once we are done breastfeeding.
I went to bed at 10:30 pm, and have been up every hour or so. A contraction wakes me up with a vice grip on my bladder, I pee, I go back to bed & read for 15 minutes or so, fall back asleep and then am up again in an hour. It feels just like I've been slipped a nice stiff espresso shot right before bed, which makes me restless like this. I hate being up at night and having to go to work early. Unless it is labor. Which would be bad, since I ate that fried fish sandwich for dinner at the softball game and I vowed not to eat anything before/in labor that I wasn't willing to throw up. Fried fish definitely isn't in that category!
I've been wanting to post pictures of Pequita standing, which she has begun doing in the last two days. She will hoist herself up to her feet repeatedly, falling into a sit each time her feet aren't in an optimal position, until she's got them placed just right, then looks at us and flings her arms off whatever she's bracing against and grin at us while she hovers in mid-air, standing. Her clear sense of mastery is delightful, and she doesn't tire of this game. All the lovely toys we have for her and for weeks she has preferred empty liter water bottles, crinkly plastic bags and the 'human jungle gym' game where she crawls around on & around me on the bed or floor pulling up then sitting down, holding onto our fingers while she balances, and being rolled in somersaults and tossed around. As I said, I'd *like* to post the pictures, but I can't find the camera. The last time I remember having it was when we were having a nice brunch out in the yard on the picnic table on Saturday morning. I'll have to go check if it is still out there on my way to my car in a few hours. It has rained gale force thunderstorms repeatedly since Saturday, so if it is still out there, I'll be lucky to be able to salvage the memory card. If I can't find it, I'll have to borrow one to have on hand for the labor until it shows up. Maybe Homestead Mama can find it - just as I have an (annoying) knack for putting nothing down in the same place twice, she has a very useful knack of finding my lost or misplaced items. We were clearly made for each other.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Monday, June 4, 2007
Nothing to report
I figured that I'd try and post daily for those of you who get ansty when I don't check in. Nothing to report yet in terms of labor. Lots of pains, lots of kicking, much wiggling & poking at my sciatic nerve which causes exciting electrical zaps down my legs, but no baby yet.
People keep coming into my office and expressing surprise that I'm still here. My due date isn't for another 10 days, but I guess I look ready to pop. All I feel is ready for a nap.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Lady of leisure
I had my first half-day of work today. I was skipping around the office (figuratively, of course) all morning while I trained my fill-in. My manager wanted to meet with me this afternoon and I had to remind him of my new status. He is such a nice guy that he just grinned and made time to meet in the morning. I woke up feeling lots of cramping, pain, discomfort, and was having lots of contractions. I was wondering if this was It, and tidied up my desk a bit before leaving.
I met Canadian Friend for lunch at a nearby cafe, and we sat for a couple hours eating, chatting, and playing with her baby. It was peaceful (a la frisky 10-month old) lunch, and I drove home afterwards and took a two hour nap. The dogs were thrilled to get let out during the day, and I could hear their collars jingling from my bedroom as they frolicked in the hot sun chasing small animals and lounging with their tongues dangling on the ground. As for me, I dangled my tongue on the pillow with a fan directed right on me and slept soundly until my alarm woke me to go fetch Pequita from daycare. After the nap my belly discomfort had abated, so Homestead Mama, Pequita and I met the Canadians for dinner at the Hippie Cafe for dinner, then home to bed. All in all, a lovely day, and the weekend is still before us.
I met Canadian Friend for lunch at a nearby cafe, and we sat for a couple hours eating, chatting, and playing with her baby. It was peaceful (a la frisky 10-month old) lunch, and I drove home afterwards and took a two hour nap. The dogs were thrilled to get let out during the day, and I could hear their collars jingling from my bedroom as they frolicked in the hot sun chasing small animals and lounging with their tongues dangling on the ground. As for me, I dangled my tongue on the pillow with a fan directed right on me and slept soundly until my alarm woke me to go fetch Pequita from daycare. After the nap my belly discomfort had abated, so Homestead Mama, Pequita and I met the Canadians for dinner at the Hippie Cafe for dinner, then home to bed. All in all, a lovely day, and the weekend is still before us.
Parade!
My town has a weekend-long festival each summer which is kicked off with a parade on the preceding Thursday evening. I've never been, since we always have had a softball game that conflicted. This year, our beloved Canadian friends are in town with their 10 month old daughter and Pequita and I went with them to the parade. Here I am one day short of 38 weeks pregnant with Pequita at the beginning of the parade:
About half the town lines the parade route to watch and the other half seem to be in the parade - there are floats and groups representing the SPCA complete with well-behaved dogs on leash that are up for adoption, the unicycle club on their best wheel, and AIDSwalk volunteers. There are also some groups represented that get more attention - the belly dancers, for one, and also the Volvo ballet. The latter is a cluster of older Volvos with very large car-sized pink tutus around their middles that move in an orchestrated dance and honk their horns in unison, with some people in tutus and fishnet stockings flitting amongst the cars in accompaniment. This, for some reason, was Pequita favorite part, and she flapped her hands and laughed and wouldn't take her eyes off them. Sadly, a thunderstorm & deluge had us running for cover before the last group passed by, the Guys With Chainsaws. I have only heard about this, but a bunch of men bring up the rear proudly carrying their running chainsaws, gunning the engines proudly. I still don't quite believe it, so maybe we'll try to see it next year. The mind boggles at the liability and absurdity. The deluge soaked us all to the skin - Pequita and her 10 month old buddy were very game, blinking away the torrents of water dripping down their faces as we darted through the rain. Luckily it was pretty warm out to start, so we were all fairly comfortable even wet. We took cover in a group of shops until the rain eased.
I love my freaky town.
About half the town lines the parade route to watch and the other half seem to be in the parade - there are floats and groups representing the SPCA complete with well-behaved dogs on leash that are up for adoption, the unicycle club on their best wheel, and AIDSwalk volunteers. There are also some groups represented that get more attention - the belly dancers, for one, and also the Volvo ballet. The latter is a cluster of older Volvos with very large car-sized pink tutus around their middles that move in an orchestrated dance and honk their horns in unison, with some people in tutus and fishnet stockings flitting amongst the cars in accompaniment. This, for some reason, was Pequita favorite part, and she flapped her hands and laughed and wouldn't take her eyes off them. Sadly, a thunderstorm & deluge had us running for cover before the last group passed by, the Guys With Chainsaws. I have only heard about this, but a bunch of men bring up the rear proudly carrying their running chainsaws, gunning the engines proudly. I still don't quite believe it, so maybe we'll try to see it next year. The mind boggles at the liability and absurdity. The deluge soaked us all to the skin - Pequita and her 10 month old buddy were very game, blinking away the torrents of water dripping down their faces as we darted through the rain. Luckily it was pretty warm out to start, so we were all fairly comfortable even wet. We took cover in a group of shops until the rain eased.
I love my freaky town.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Summer is here
Good christ, it is hot. Blech. I am using the power of positive imagery to get through this. In my mind, I am sashaying my sleek fecund form around town in my litte tank top and flowy skirt, my now long curly hair swinging in a pert cute way as I glow my way through the end of this pregnancy. A reality check would show that I am waddling around with my thin clothing clinging to my glistening ever-more rotund body, 'flowing' curls gently sticking to my face and neck as I schvitz in the heat. This body which had the coffee shop guy exclaim this morning, "Wow - you look ready to pop any second now!" and the used baby goods store proprietor offering to carry my purchases to my car for me. (I take in hand-me-downs that hit the gross trifecta - pink, frilly and floral - and exit with lovely orange clothes and dirt cheap baby-proofing devices for our house. Win-win for everyone.)
No news is good news to the OB. I saw the wife of the practice this morning, and all is well. Baby is clearly dropping, as I am finally measuring behind (I am almost 38 weeks along, and measuring only 36 weeks, which means about 2 weeks worth of baby growth is now lodged in my pelvis. Yahoo, I say.) The most significant change from last week is that peeing has become a directional event. I sit down and nothing happens. I have to twist, turn, shift, crouch, and jiggle until I find a position that allows my bladder to find a way to work around the human head blocking its way. Most interesting, and I'm sure I'd enjoy the humor if I didn't have to PEE. I walked out of the OBs office with a doctor's note stating that I am not allowed to work more than 4 hours per day (Yippee! and thanks to all who talked me through the decision to put myself before my job). She narrated as she wrote, "Homestead Mom is only allowed to work 4 hours per day from now until the end of her pregnancy, as the process of creating a human life is contra-indicated with working full time at this point." When I read the actual script I was a little sorry that it didn't really write it like that. I think it was totally accurate. I will now be napping in the early afternoon, and then working on the house, or taking walks with Pequita in the best stroller in the world, or riding the lawn mower over our acreage (hey - the vibrations might induce labor!) or - blessed be - lying on the couch watching BBC America reruns of gory mysteries (all of which seem to star Robson Green) with a tall glass of iced anything balanced on my belly. Damned luxurious, eh?
The homestead is clean - Homestead Mama and I were up til midnight last night getting it put to rights so I can relax and not dread going into labor in squalor. My mother says she'll tidy when she arrives, but she'll be taking care of Pequita, which is at this clingy stage a full-time job. I've gotten rid of so much superfluous crap that I think the dogs believe that we're moving again - they are annoyingly underfoot in case we make a break for it & leave them behind. They aren't stupid. I hope the garbage collectors have enough room in their truck for all our bags by the curb.
Life is good, my friends.
No news is good news to the OB. I saw the wife of the practice this morning, and all is well. Baby is clearly dropping, as I am finally measuring behind (I am almost 38 weeks along, and measuring only 36 weeks, which means about 2 weeks worth of baby growth is now lodged in my pelvis. Yahoo, I say.) The most significant change from last week is that peeing has become a directional event. I sit down and nothing happens. I have to twist, turn, shift, crouch, and jiggle until I find a position that allows my bladder to find a way to work around the human head blocking its way. Most interesting, and I'm sure I'd enjoy the humor if I didn't have to PEE. I walked out of the OBs office with a doctor's note stating that I am not allowed to work more than 4 hours per day (Yippee! and thanks to all who talked me through the decision to put myself before my job). She narrated as she wrote, "Homestead Mom is only allowed to work 4 hours per day from now until the end of her pregnancy, as the process of creating a human life is contra-indicated with working full time at this point." When I read the actual script I was a little sorry that it didn't really write it like that. I think it was totally accurate. I will now be napping in the early afternoon, and then working on the house, or taking walks with Pequita in the best stroller in the world, or riding the lawn mower over our acreage (hey - the vibrations might induce labor!) or - blessed be - lying on the couch watching BBC America reruns of gory mysteries (all of which seem to star Robson Green) with a tall glass of iced anything balanced on my belly. Damned luxurious, eh?
The homestead is clean - Homestead Mama and I were up til midnight last night getting it put to rights so I can relax and not dread going into labor in squalor. My mother says she'll tidy when she arrives, but she'll be taking care of Pequita, which is at this clingy stage a full-time job. I've gotten rid of so much superfluous crap that I think the dogs believe that we're moving again - they are annoyingly underfoot in case we make a break for it & leave them behind. They aren't stupid. I hope the garbage collectors have enough room in their truck for all our bags by the curb.
Life is good, my friends.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Grrrr.
Hoo, boy, am I grumpy - my patience for idiocy and annoyance is nil. I am actually cruising for a scrappy fight, I can tell. Not so conducive to a good working environment. I'm meeting with HR today to let them know that I need to cut back my work hours. I need more nap time & rest time, and also more time to get personal stuff done. I'd quit today if my sense of responsibility were any less developed.
And if I want to deliver on the 31st (because there is a blue moon that night) then I have to start excercising. :)
Monday, May 28, 2007
Garage sale update
Homestead Mama earner herself over $300 hawking her beloved items on our lawn (mostly stuff that has been packed away and hasn't seen the light of day in over 6 years). At the end of the weekend, we were tuckered out and sunburned, but the house is much emptier of stuff we don't need, Homestead Mama has a huge pile of papers & stuff to burn in our fire pit (she prefers this to recycling), and she admitted that, "purging our stuff feels kind of good." Phew. We advertised that after 3pm today, everything left is free in the spirit of NOT taking anything back inside. We had cars starting to drive by, scoping out the things that were left, starting at noon. At 2:45, people parked and waited for us to say they could take what they wanted for nothing. Oy vey. We finally culled out the few things we want to get actual money for - the antiques and collectibles - and let them have at it. Starving students, people so cheap that $5 was too much to pay for a lovely new area rug, families with one full mouth of teeth between them, all had Christmas in our front yard. Doesn't matter, really, as long as we no longer have to vacuum around this stuff.
Next step: rearrange what's left.
Secondly: deep cleaning of house.
Thirdly: start chipping away at small task list of easy things to do on house that will make it more pleasant for visitors.
Fourthly: deliver new baby and come home to a lovely, tidy, slightly more sparsely decorated home.
Somewhere in there is: pack bags for hospital, write birth plan, and pack a bag to send with Pequita to whomever her caregiver ends up being when I go into active labor. I'm not sure why I have a block with this. For Homestead Mama's delivery, I was ready 6 weeks before her due date. I guess I am a little in denial in addition to assuming I'll have several hours of extra time to kill once my labor starts but before it gets bad. An assumption that I shouldn't count on. Oh well. I'll make a packing list at work tomorrow in some spare time.
Pequita has been needy, clingy and snuggly ever since her vaccinations on Friday. She was like this last time, too. It isn't so bad, it is just that whoever is tending to her can't get much done - since H-mama was doing all sorts of heavy lifting and sorting, this was me. Pequita spent the whole day today on my lap playing with a toy or two under a sun shade observing the garage sale. She particularly likes traffic now - cars go by and her eyes light up. Cyclists pass in pairs and her eyes widen as she follows their progress. Bikers go by on their Harley Davidsons and she drops all toys, swivels her head, and watches the horizon after they have left her sight, then she turns to us with her mouth in the shape of an O and her eyes ablaze. The noise is clearly captivating. No wonder Harley tried to patent the sound of their motorcycles. I don't see the appeal, but Homestead Mama, who had her years as a motorcycle rider, feels great pride.
Next step: rearrange what's left.
Secondly: deep cleaning of house.
Thirdly: start chipping away at small task list of easy things to do on house that will make it more pleasant for visitors.
Fourthly: deliver new baby and come home to a lovely, tidy, slightly more sparsely decorated home.
Somewhere in there is: pack bags for hospital, write birth plan, and pack a bag to send with Pequita to whomever her caregiver ends up being when I go into active labor. I'm not sure why I have a block with this. For Homestead Mama's delivery, I was ready 6 weeks before her due date. I guess I am a little in denial in addition to assuming I'll have several hours of extra time to kill once my labor starts but before it gets bad. An assumption that I shouldn't count on. Oh well. I'll make a packing list at work tomorrow in some spare time.
Pequita has been needy, clingy and snuggly ever since her vaccinations on Friday. She was like this last time, too. It isn't so bad, it is just that whoever is tending to her can't get much done - since H-mama was doing all sorts of heavy lifting and sorting, this was me. Pequita spent the whole day today on my lap playing with a toy or two under a sun shade observing the garage sale. She particularly likes traffic now - cars go by and her eyes light up. Cyclists pass in pairs and her eyes widen as she follows their progress. Bikers go by on their Harley Davidsons and she drops all toys, swivels her head, and watches the horizon after they have left her sight, then she turns to us with her mouth in the shape of an O and her eyes ablaze. The noise is clearly captivating. No wonder Harley tried to patent the sound of their motorcycles. I don't see the appeal, but Homestead Mama, who had her years as a motorcycle rider, feels great pride.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Memorial Day weekend
Homestead Mama's big garage sale is upon us. We've emptied the house of piles of assorted extra stuff we haven't used in years, a good amount of furniture, and some things from the garage. We will sell it for Sun, then on Monday it becomes a Freecycle sale, which means everything left over is free for the taking. This is a great way to ensure that nothing comes back into the house. We have a few antiques we are selling that we'll take to an auction house if we don't get the price we want. This is a big relief for me - I'm a little worried about trying to raise 2 young kids in a death trap house full of clutter.
The OB appointment on Friday morning was great. I dropped my knickers for the first time w/ him, and he swabbed for the strep B test. then he checked me for any progress. First thing he said, while chuckling, was that I have a HUGE pelvis and should have no trouble delivering the baby. I suppose I should take that as a compliment - not something I ever thought I'd want to hear, but in this instance he couldn't have delivered a nicer more reassuring compliment. My cervix is 1 cm dilated, and he could feel the baby's head, which I assume means I am effaced to some degree. The OB said that while we have no idea what will happen, he thinks I'll last at least one more week. Monita/o's heartbeat is holding steady in the 140s, and my BP was nice and low. Thanks to the bad reaction I had to the spicy food, I had lost a half pound. Regardless, Homestead Mama still keeps noting how I am looking enormous (she's sweet like that).
We went to the farmers market in town this morning for breakfast and coffee with Hottie Friend which was delightful. We mean to go every week, but usually get waylaid with sleeping in, or appointments, or dog activites. There was a troupe of drummers playing which entertained Pequita very nicely. She garnered a lot of attention, as she is quite enchanted with all things public these days, and consequently enchants those around her with her grin and giggle. A woman I knew only by sight from softball years ago, and whom I keep running into around town now that I have joined her in motherhood and frequent similar places, approached us and we had a nice chat, and we agreed to start up a play group for our ~7 month olds after I deliver. She seems really nice, and clearly has a similar lifestyle, so I am excited at the prospect. Plus, she's got two older kids so must have good experiences & advice to share, which is always good.
After the farmers market, we proceeded on to the hospital for the second non-stress test, and all looked good. I am having contractions that stop me in my tracks with some regularity. If I have to go to the bathroom, it is pretty uncomfortable/painful. At least they are now being productive, which makes it easier to take. We had the nurse help us today who was our nurse when Homestead Mama delivered Pequita. I have a strong dislike for her - she is a bit of a dolt, with no social skills and lacks warmth and affect. What kind of nurse interrupts the doctor when he is speaking about how things are going to offer a drink or adjust the monitor or anything? Yuck. I have instructed Hottie Friend to eject her from my delivery if she somehow gets assigned to us - I can't handle her energy when I have all my faculties at my disposal, let alone in labor. Homestead Mama dislikes confrontation to the point that I think Hottie Friend will be a better hard-ass-on-call.
I was planning on working up until I go into labor, but I'm starting to think that at least going half time will be a good idea soon. I have a lot to do at home, and naps are just delightful at this point. It is rough, also, picking up our DD, who at 7.5 mos is 20 lbs (90th percentile, and heavy!) We'll see what happens. I have some tidying up of my desk & workload to do for my replacement.
The ticker at the top of the blog says I have only 20 days left til due date. Yikes! I need to get the bag packed for the hospital. I have a small pile of stuff to take, just have to finish it and put it in something. More importantly is getting a bag of stuff ready for Pequita. We have a few folks to watch her, depending on the time of day I go into labor etc. but they'll all need clothing, diapers, formula, etc., not to mention a page or two of instructions. Hopefully, my parents will have enough time to get here from Boston so my mom can watch the baby before we're otherwise occupied with heavy labor.
The OB appointment on Friday morning was great. I dropped my knickers for the first time w/ him, and he swabbed for the strep B test. then he checked me for any progress. First thing he said, while chuckling, was that I have a HUGE pelvis and should have no trouble delivering the baby. I suppose I should take that as a compliment - not something I ever thought I'd want to hear, but in this instance he couldn't have delivered a nicer more reassuring compliment. My cervix is 1 cm dilated, and he could feel the baby's head, which I assume means I am effaced to some degree. The OB said that while we have no idea what will happen, he thinks I'll last at least one more week. Monita/o's heartbeat is holding steady in the 140s, and my BP was nice and low. Thanks to the bad reaction I had to the spicy food, I had lost a half pound. Regardless, Homestead Mama still keeps noting how I am looking enormous (she's sweet like that).
We went to the farmers market in town this morning for breakfast and coffee with Hottie Friend which was delightful. We mean to go every week, but usually get waylaid with sleeping in, or appointments, or dog activites. There was a troupe of drummers playing which entertained Pequita very nicely. She garnered a lot of attention, as she is quite enchanted with all things public these days, and consequently enchants those around her with her grin and giggle. A woman I knew only by sight from softball years ago, and whom I keep running into around town now that I have joined her in motherhood and frequent similar places, approached us and we had a nice chat, and we agreed to start up a play group for our ~7 month olds after I deliver. She seems really nice, and clearly has a similar lifestyle, so I am excited at the prospect. Plus, she's got two older kids so must have good experiences & advice to share, which is always good.
After the farmers market, we proceeded on to the hospital for the second non-stress test, and all looked good. I am having contractions that stop me in my tracks with some regularity. If I have to go to the bathroom, it is pretty uncomfortable/painful. At least they are now being productive, which makes it easier to take. We had the nurse help us today who was our nurse when Homestead Mama delivered Pequita. I have a strong dislike for her - she is a bit of a dolt, with no social skills and lacks warmth and affect. What kind of nurse interrupts the doctor when he is speaking about how things are going to offer a drink or adjust the monitor or anything? Yuck. I have instructed Hottie Friend to eject her from my delivery if she somehow gets assigned to us - I can't handle her energy when I have all my faculties at my disposal, let alone in labor. Homestead Mama dislikes confrontation to the point that I think Hottie Friend will be a better hard-ass-on-call.
I was planning on working up until I go into labor, but I'm starting to think that at least going half time will be a good idea soon. I have a lot to do at home, and naps are just delightful at this point. It is rough, also, picking up our DD, who at 7.5 mos is 20 lbs (90th percentile, and heavy!) We'll see what happens. I have some tidying up of my desk & workload to do for my replacement.
The ticker at the top of the blog says I have only 20 days left til due date. Yikes! I need to get the bag packed for the hospital. I have a small pile of stuff to take, just have to finish it and put it in something. More importantly is getting a bag of stuff ready for Pequita. We have a few folks to watch her, depending on the time of day I go into labor etc. but they'll all need clothing, diapers, formula, etc., not to mention a page or two of instructions. Hopefully, my parents will have enough time to get here from Boston so my mom can watch the baby before we're otherwise occupied with heavy labor.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Homestead History
As I've mentioned, we live in a farmhouse house built in 1851. 
We bought it from the 70 year-old son of the folks who bought it in 1940. He remembers growing up in this house, having the indoor toilet installed in the 1950s because they got tired of going outside to the outhouse, building the now-decrepit chicken coop out in the yard for a 4-H project. Both Homestead Mama and I always wanted to buy an old house and fix it up, putting our own stamp on it. The house is extremely solid with good bones - the main beams that it is framed out of are clearly recycled from older structures, as they have mortise & tenon joints in them that don't pertain to our house. 
These huge 10" - 12" square beams are like iron; we broke many a drill bit in them trying to run the electric wires. Our house has some sags and nary a square angle to be found, but it is solid as can be.
The house came with 10 acres of land which is made up of about 1.5 acres of mowed landscaped lawn surrounding the house & garage, replete with huge lilac bushes, maple trees, perennial flowers, and walnut trees; the remainder of our property is meadow and trees. We bought the place 'as is', gutted it of all the horsehair plaster & lathe,
and with judicious use of contractors, friends, Girl & Boy Fridays, and much help from our families, have carved out a livable space. We put in all new plumbing, electrical wiring, fantastic insulation, reframed the upstairs to create 2 small bedrooms and a huge master suite, refinished the 150-year old floors ourselves, and had all new windows installed. 
It is close to being a stunning example of a renovated farmhouse. We still have some smaller projects to do (to install trim around windows and doors, frame out the closets that we built into the master suite dressing room, strip paint off some old doors we reused, install some door hardware, etc.) Then there are the larger projects still to come – we’ll need a new roof in the next 10 years, and there are 3 or 4 layers of shingle up there to be taken off first. We’ll install clapboard siding in the next 15 years, and get the details on the exterior we want. We also have 400 square feet of an addition to finish, and we'll attack this in the summer of 2009. It is an uninsulated ell of the house that will become a lovely family / guest room and a laundry room. This ell had been built after the turn of the century directly on the earth, and for around 75 years has been sitting wood on soil. It is a testament to the old growth wood that houses used to be built with that it was in amazingly good condition - we had a contractor excavate and install a nice new foundation under it last summer (stage one of the ell renovation) and there was only a few feet of wood sill that was rotted out and needed replacement. The contractor couldn't believe it.
Now that we've owned it for 6 years and have (almost) 2 babies, we are thinking how nice it would be to have enough extra money laying around to pay someone *else* to put our stamp on it. I have a list (those of you who know me can snigger here, as you know it is more of a sorted prioritized database) of things to get done and is regularly re-prioritized to accommodate our lives. Before each baby, we go through a mad rush to deeply clean, tidy, finish a couple more construction items in preparation for not having any extra time for at least 6 weeks. Now with the second baby, 6 weeks seems optimistic, but I'm maintaining my optimism as long as I can.
We have a Girl Friday, a handy-woman who helps us by doing all the things around the house that we are either physically incapable of doing (at least one of us has been pregnant for a couple years now) or don't know how to do. She worked in construction for years and is really capable and talented. She works a lot faster than I would, and thinks things through, often making things better than we had planned because the opportunity presented itself in the course of her work. She installed a new bathroom floor in the house we own across the street and rent out, and she built us the most beautiful flagstone front path to the house with stone we retrieved from our property. In many ways, she is a dream. The only downfall is that she now has a regular job and is only available a few hours per week. She showed up at 8am this morning ready to put in a few hours of work. Amusingly enough, Homestead Mama let Girl Friday in downstairs when she was letting the dogs out and the next thing I know I hear a "Hi!" from behind me. I was on the bed in my underwear, on my hands and knees over Pequita letting her play with my dangling necklace hoping to get another glimpse of her new tooth. Ass to the doorway, oblivious of company. My, did I get red in the face. Thank goodness she is a friend and a woman, or the screech I let out would have lasted longer and been a lot louder. Her arrival actually got me out of bed (I was running very late, having been up from 1 - 4:30am with hormonal insomnia). I was out the door with the baby in 20 minutes; Homestead Mama was tending to the animals and getting Girl Friday set up with tools & supplies when I left. By 9:30 I realized that I had left my cell phone at home in the morning rush, and called H-mama to let her know that, and to remind her that it was my birthday today (38 years old!). After apologizing for forgetting the day, she told me a little story than only affirms my deep affection for contractors/laborers that are bonded and insured, which Girl Friday is not.
Girl Friday started her day working on finishing the hole surrounding the upstairs bathroom skylight. Our ceilings are sloped on the second floor, so the skylight is the only window in the bathroom - a vast improvement. Homestead Mama's father came to help her install it, and we never insulated around it and patched the drywall that was disturbed in the installation. Girl Friday apparently cut the rigid foam board insulation (that has been stored behind the tub for a couple of years in anticipation of this project) to fit the holes, then was sealing around the edges with a can of expanding insulation foam. Since the ceiling is sloped, this is above her head, and the foam promptly started falling onto the floor and instantly adhering to the finish. Drat - I had meant to supply her with a drop cloth. H-mama ran to get some paint thinner which was supposed to clean the foam off surfaces. The two of them opened the can, splashed out some chemicals onto a rag in Girl Friday's bare hand and then were startled when her skin started to burn and turn red. Did they READ the can before using the product? Sure, enough to ascertain that it said Paint on it somewhere. Were they concerned when it poured out think and glutinous and not at all like paint thinner? No. Guesses as to what they had just exposed themselves to? Anyone? Yup, highly caustic, toxic, carcinogenic, only-use-with-special-hazmat -gloves paint stripper. (Of course, those words could be used with thinner and they still would have used their bare hands, despite all the nagging I do.) H-mama had no exposure, thank goodness, as she's still breastfeeding, but Girl Friday had to wash her hands repeatedly and keep them in cool water until the burning subsided. I believe that she is still in my house working, but I hope she takes it easy. We have all summer to insulate that window, and I have other projects for her to do for which she’ll need her skin.
We bought it from the 70 year-old son of the folks who bought it in 1940. He remembers growing up in this house, having the indoor toilet installed in the 1950s because they got tired of going outside to the outhouse, building the now-decrepit chicken coop out in the yard for a 4-H project. Both Homestead Mama and I always wanted to buy an old house and fix it up, putting our own stamp on it. The house is extremely solid with good bones - the main beams that it is framed out of are clearly recycled from older structures, as they have mortise & tenon joints in them that don't pertain to our house. These huge 10" - 12" square beams are like iron; we broke many a drill bit in them trying to run the electric wires. Our house has some sags and nary a square angle to be found, but it is solid as can be.The house came with 10 acres of land which is made up of about 1.5 acres of mowed landscaped lawn surrounding the house & garage, replete with huge lilac bushes, maple trees, perennial flowers, and walnut trees; the remainder of our property is meadow and trees. We bought the place 'as is', gutted it of all the horsehair plaster & lathe,
and with judicious use of contractors, friends, Girl & Boy Fridays, and much help from our families, have carved out a livable space. We put in all new plumbing, electrical wiring, fantastic insulation, reframed the upstairs to create 2 small bedrooms and a huge master suite, refinished the 150-year old floors ourselves, and had all new windows installed. It is close to being a stunning example of a renovated farmhouse. We still have some smaller projects to do (to install trim around windows and doors, frame out the closets that we built into the master suite dressing room, strip paint off some old doors we reused, install some door hardware, etc.) Then there are the larger projects still to come – we’ll need a new roof in the next 10 years, and there are 3 or 4 layers of shingle up there to be taken off first. We’ll install clapboard siding in the next 15 years, and get the details on the exterior we want. We also have 400 square feet of an addition to finish, and we'll attack this in the summer of 2009. It is an uninsulated ell of the house that will become a lovely family / guest room and a laundry room. This ell had been built after the turn of the century directly on the earth, and for around 75 years has been sitting wood on soil. It is a testament to the old growth wood that houses used to be built with that it was in amazingly good condition - we had a contractor excavate and install a nice new foundation under it last summer (stage one of the ell renovation) and there was only a few feet of wood sill that was rotted out and needed replacement. The contractor couldn't believe it.
Now that we've owned it for 6 years and have (almost) 2 babies, we are thinking how nice it would be to have enough extra money laying around to pay someone *else* to put our stamp on it. I have a list (those of you who know me can snigger here, as you know it is more of a sorted prioritized database) of things to get done and is regularly re-prioritized to accommodate our lives. Before each baby, we go through a mad rush to deeply clean, tidy, finish a couple more construction items in preparation for not having any extra time for at least 6 weeks. Now with the second baby, 6 weeks seems optimistic, but I'm maintaining my optimism as long as I can.
We have a Girl Friday, a handy-woman who helps us by doing all the things around the house that we are either physically incapable of doing (at least one of us has been pregnant for a couple years now) or don't know how to do. She worked in construction for years and is really capable and talented. She works a lot faster than I would, and thinks things through, often making things better than we had planned because the opportunity presented itself in the course of her work. She installed a new bathroom floor in the house we own across the street and rent out, and she built us the most beautiful flagstone front path to the house with stone we retrieved from our property. In many ways, she is a dream. The only downfall is that she now has a regular job and is only available a few hours per week. She showed up at 8am this morning ready to put in a few hours of work. Amusingly enough, Homestead Mama let Girl Friday in downstairs when she was letting the dogs out and the next thing I know I hear a "Hi!" from behind me. I was on the bed in my underwear, on my hands and knees over Pequita letting her play with my dangling necklace hoping to get another glimpse of her new tooth. Ass to the doorway, oblivious of company. My, did I get red in the face. Thank goodness she is a friend and a woman, or the screech I let out would have lasted longer and been a lot louder. Her arrival actually got me out of bed (I was running very late, having been up from 1 - 4:30am with hormonal insomnia). I was out the door with the baby in 20 minutes; Homestead Mama was tending to the animals and getting Girl Friday set up with tools & supplies when I left. By 9:30 I realized that I had left my cell phone at home in the morning rush, and called H-mama to let her know that, and to remind her that it was my birthday today (38 years old!). After apologizing for forgetting the day, she told me a little story than only affirms my deep affection for contractors/laborers that are bonded and insured, which Girl Friday is not.
Girl Friday started her day working on finishing the hole surrounding the upstairs bathroom skylight. Our ceilings are sloped on the second floor, so the skylight is the only window in the bathroom - a vast improvement. Homestead Mama's father came to help her install it, and we never insulated around it and patched the drywall that was disturbed in the installation. Girl Friday apparently cut the rigid foam board insulation (that has been stored behind the tub for a couple of years in anticipation of this project) to fit the holes, then was sealing around the edges with a can of expanding insulation foam. Since the ceiling is sloped, this is above her head, and the foam promptly started falling onto the floor and instantly adhering to the finish. Drat - I had meant to supply her with a drop cloth. H-mama ran to get some paint thinner which was supposed to clean the foam off surfaces. The two of them opened the can, splashed out some chemicals onto a rag in Girl Friday's bare hand and then were startled when her skin started to burn and turn red. Did they READ the can before using the product? Sure, enough to ascertain that it said Paint on it somewhere. Were they concerned when it poured out think and glutinous and not at all like paint thinner? No. Guesses as to what they had just exposed themselves to? Anyone? Yup, highly caustic, toxic, carcinogenic, only-use-with-special-hazmat -gloves paint stripper. (Of course, those words could be used with thinner and they still would have used their bare hands, despite all the nagging I do.) H-mama had no exposure, thank goodness, as she's still breastfeeding, but Girl Friday had to wash her hands repeatedly and keep them in cool water until the burning subsided. I believe that she is still in my house working, but I hope she takes it easy. We have all summer to insulate that window, and I have other projects for her to do for which she’ll need her skin.
Tooth!
Joy abounds, usually with much flapping of arms in this household. (Now that it is hot here - 85 degrees today - I'd like to mention my new found adoration of little tank-style shortie outfits. Chubby thighs, lots of skin, cuteness abounding.)
Pequita's first tooth broke through sometime Tuesday night or Wednesday. I have been checking her gums daily in disbelief that, at 7.5 months, she hasn't cut any teeth yet. Wednesday afternoon, upon picking her up from daycare, we were having our usual discussion ("Bah bah bah?" "Da da da da da da" ad infinitum) while I strapped her into her carseat and lo and behold, she has clearly cut a tooth. I couldn't photograph it very well, since she is quite opposed to holding still or pausing her tongue explorations (that phrase ought to garner a couple of new visitors to the blog; won't they be disappointed with the context!) long enough for a nice clear macro lens shot. It is there, her lower right tooth, the sharp edge just emerging from her slightly swollen gums. I was both thrilled at the milestone and already mourning the loss of her perfect little gummy smile. Homestead Mama is mourning the loss of safe nursing.
We haven't seen any of the symptoms that I expected to precede this event - we were prepared for fevers, sleeplessness, behavioral changes, all sorts of awful things. She has had her first persistent diaper redness over the last couple days, but it hasn't even been a rash. That and she has wanted to stay up later with us playing, but I attributed that to her learning to crawl. So much is happening so fast. I wish fourth grade could have passed this quickly.
Pequita's first tooth broke through sometime Tuesday night or Wednesday. I have been checking her gums daily in disbelief that, at 7.5 months, she hasn't cut any teeth yet. Wednesday afternoon, upon picking her up from daycare, we were having our usual discussion ("Bah bah bah?" "Da da da da da da" ad infinitum) while I strapped her into her carseat and lo and behold, she has clearly cut a tooth. I couldn't photograph it very well, since she is quite opposed to holding still or pausing her tongue explorations (that phrase ought to garner a couple of new visitors to the blog; won't they be disappointed with the context!) long enough for a nice clear macro lens shot. It is there, her lower right tooth, the sharp edge just emerging from her slightly swollen gums. I was both thrilled at the milestone and already mourning the loss of her perfect little gummy smile. Homestead Mama is mourning the loss of safe nursing.We haven't seen any of the symptoms that I expected to precede this event - we were prepared for fevers, sleeplessness, behavioral changes, all sorts of awful things. She has had her first persistent diaper redness over the last couple days, but it hasn't even been a rash. That and she has wanted to stay up later with us playing, but I attributed that to her learning to crawl. So much is happening so fast. I wish fourth grade could have passed this quickly.
Sunday brunch
The order in which I post pictures has a lot to do with the speed in which I download them from the camera. I'm willing to try posting more regularly, especially if I am up in the middle of the night for the remainder of my gestation.
Last Sunday, Homestead Mama and I took the baby out to brunch at the local hippie coffee house cafe. Live jazz guitar, a futon window seat to spread out on, and yummy vegetarian food all are gravy on top of the child tolerant atmosphere. We drank coffee, started to eat and then Pequita started grabbing for the fork. We let her try some plain yogurt from my fruit crepe, which elicited a bit of a sour scowl but didn't diminish her zeal for more.
She much preferred the avacado on H-mama's omelette. 
She's taking to food quite well. No allergies so far, although we have agreed that a more systematic approach could be a good idea.
Last Sunday, Homestead Mama and I took the baby out to brunch at the local hippie coffee house cafe. Live jazz guitar, a futon window seat to spread out on, and yummy vegetarian food all are gravy on top of the child tolerant atmosphere. We drank coffee, started to eat and then Pequita started grabbing for the fork. We let her try some plain yogurt from my fruit crepe, which elicited a bit of a sour scowl but didn't diminish her zeal for more.
She much preferred the avacado on H-mama's omelette. She's taking to food quite well. No allergies so far, although we have agreed that a more systematic approach could be a good idea.
Sleepless
Here it is, 3 am, and I've been up for two hours. Since it is a little late to take Benedryl to go back to sleep and still manage to function tomorrow morning for work, I've decided to start learning how to use my new video editing software.
The insomnia thing is something I am used to after a lifetime of difficulty staying asleep. I can little afford it now, though, since I am so fatigued most of the time even with 8 hours. My loss = your benefit, though.
Pequita has been expressing a strong urge to eat & drink what we are consuming. We missed the signals for a while, then ignored them, then started letting her participate to see how she'd do. The results are so entertaining we have decided to officially begin non-breastmilk consumption every now and again. We gave her some rice cereal my sister left here on her last trip a few days ago, to much excitement. Her favorite thing to do is drink anything out of the large goldfish pint glasses that we use for watered-down juice. Voila!
I'm not sure why Youtube is hit or miss for me. Clearly, hormonal mush-for-brains isn't helping. The video is here, too, in case there is an empty hole above this text.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZLHfW7K7Ms
The insomnia thing is something I am used to after a lifetime of difficulty staying asleep. I can little afford it now, though, since I am so fatigued most of the time even with 8 hours. My loss = your benefit, though.
Pequita has been expressing a strong urge to eat & drink what we are consuming. We missed the signals for a while, then ignored them, then started letting her participate to see how she'd do. The results are so entertaining we have decided to officially begin non-breastmilk consumption every now and again. We gave her some rice cereal my sister left here on her last trip a few days ago, to much excitement. Her favorite thing to do is drink anything out of the large goldfish pint glasses that we use for watered-down juice. Voila!
I'm not sure why Youtube is hit or miss for me. Clearly, hormonal mush-for-brains isn't helping. The video is here, too, in case there is an empty hole above this text.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZLHfW7K7Ms
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Dropping
I love this dropping belly phenomena so far - since it has started to drop I am so much more comfortable! I actually forget that I'm pregnant with some regularity, which is nice. I can breathe a bit more, I can finally eat - boy can I eat! - and am sleeping better. I expect that when Monito/a drops a little more I'll be engrossed in a whole new kind of discomfort & waddling, but not yet. The round ligament pain I've been having? I think I was wrong. I believe that it is cervical pain & cramping, which is great news, meaning progress is happening. Everyone describes contractions as being like period cramps, which mine aren't as all my non-pregnant cramping was in my lower back. The pains I have now are exactly like when I was dilated for assorted procedures on the road to pregnancy.
Monita/o has fallen in love even though still in utero. The object of affection? My bladder. S/he loves it and and squeezes it and probably calls it George. I just hope s/he's willing to leave it behind in a few weeks and transfer its affections to a nice stuffed animal. Oy.
Monita/o has fallen in love even though still in utero. The object of affection? My bladder. S/he loves it and and squeezes it and probably calls it George. I just hope s/he's willing to leave it behind in a few weeks and transfer its affections to a nice stuffed animal. Oy.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Anniversary
Homestead Mama and I met in March 2000. It took us about two months to fall in love and admit it out loud. Our anniversary is the first weekend in May - we've been together for seven years now. We'd been together for about a year and a half when we bought our house in October 2001, and the following spring I bought her a Redbud tree. We planted it in the front yard, and every spring it is the first thing that blooms in our yard. It never fails to inspire us and remind us that we are still in love and still quite thrilled to be together. 
35 weeks
I remember posting something about feeling sleek like a seal. While my belly continues to impress me, it is 45" diameter of taut flesh and sleek isn't exactly how I would currently describe myself. Here is a picture from 35 weeks. You can tell where my vanity lies when I tell you that I spent more time trying to photoshop out the pile of laundry behind me than to cover up my pink bits. It is a week later now, and the belly has dropped. There is a huge amount of pressure in my nether bits, and my bladder is being regularly poked and palpated by the baby. Quite cool, and more uncomfortable than I would have imagined, although it is so bizarre that it is easy to have a good sense of humor about it. 
Pequita is blooming in so many ways. She is verbalizing a lot, learning how to yell and whisper, and playing with her voice much of the time. She is particularly pleased with the call and response game - she makes a noise, we mimic it, and she chortles with pleasure. Her love for her tongue manifests in much spitting and long Bronx cheers. Delightful! She is also beginning to crawl, and can spin in circles and scoot short distances. She has started to pull herself up on our bodies and furniture. She is still wobbly, but her desire is so strong that she tries repeatedly until she succeeds. We have been holding off on offering her real food, relying on breastmilk and a little formula as needed. Today, we stopped for ice cream cones and she was so motivated by all the licking that she grabbed repeatedly. I touched my double scoop of black raspberry to her lips, and she was startled by the temperature, but sucked it off. After her trying to grab the whole cone and me pinning her arms to her sides, she enjoyed several more tastes. By the third or fourth, she had figured out that opening her mouth and sucking a little garnered her a better sample. She is a pro now. So many things in our evolving parenting style aren't what we expected - we have many more plastic toys than we intended, we watch TV with her in the room sometimes (volume very low, only while she is engrossed in her toys). Feeding her ice cream as her first food was never on the agenda, but here we are. Homestead Mama is inordinately proud of her. Tomorrow: bananas and rice cereal, like normal healthy people.
Pequita is blooming in so many ways. She is verbalizing a lot, learning how to yell and whisper, and playing with her voice much of the time. She is particularly pleased with the call and response game - she makes a noise, we mimic it, and she chortles with pleasure. Her love for her tongue manifests in much spitting and long Bronx cheers. Delightful! She is also beginning to crawl, and can spin in circles and scoot short distances. She has started to pull herself up on our bodies and furniture. She is still wobbly, but her desire is so strong that she tries repeatedly until she succeeds. We have been holding off on offering her real food, relying on breastmilk and a little formula as needed. Today, we stopped for ice cream cones and she was so motivated by all the licking that she grabbed repeatedly. I touched my double scoop of black raspberry to her lips, and she was startled by the temperature, but sucked it off. After her trying to grab the whole cone and me pinning her arms to her sides, she enjoyed several more tastes. By the third or fourth, she had figured out that opening her mouth and sucking a little garnered her a better sample. She is a pro now. So many things in our evolving parenting style aren't what we expected - we have many more plastic toys than we intended, we watch TV with her in the room sometimes (volume very low, only while she is engrossed in her toys). Feeding her ice cream as her first food was never on the agenda, but here we are. Homestead Mama is inordinately proud of her. Tomorrow: bananas and rice cereal, like normal healthy people.
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