Well, not any more. My birthday was Friday. April 11th for those of you playing along at home. I had a great birthday.
Friday night my mother in law invited me and my mother to see Martha Beck speak about her newest book, Steering by Starlight. She's an amazing author and incredible speaker. I didn't plan on it, but I bought a copy of the book to have signed. I can't wait to read it. I told her that Expecting Adam, her memoir of her pregnancy with her son, was a tremendous help to me when I had my miscarriage. I told her that it (the miscarriage) was "a very peaceful experience for me, and normally I'm a stress puppy." She said that I should be a good student of the new book. I am flattered.
Saturday night John and I went to dinner at our favorite Indian restaurant in Westport. We got our usuals, Chicken Tikka Masala for me and Something Rhogen Josh for John. Although the restaurant was crowded and service wasn't as exceptional as it usually is (mostly because of the family behind us who found fault in anything and everything that touched their table... ), the food was wonderful as always. We even got dessert, something we don't usually do there, and it too was very good. I have to be honest here; I can't say it was amazing because the dessert was three balls of fried dough (which were very yummy) soaked in sweet syrup, and I know how you all know I have issues with wet bread. That said, the dessert was still really good. Afterwards we went to Barnes and Noble where John found two books and I got completely frustrated looking at kitchen and remodeling magazines.
Today we hung out with my parents (who came up Friday to help out IMMENSELY by watching the boys while we went out). We tried to take them to lunch to thank them for babysitting, but my dad got all sneaky and managed to treat us instead. Afterwards, while I went grocery shopping, Mom and Dad bought a baby ice cream cake that we all had when I got home.
All in all, a great birthday. Thanks, everybody. I loved it!
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Thank You, Martha Beck
I saw you speak at the Madison, CT Library on April 11th (my birthday - yay!) and while you were signing my copy of Expecting Adam I mentioned that that book was incredibly helpful to me during my recent miscarriage. I'd like to explain...
One morning I thought I was getting my first period since weaning my second son (he's now 16 months old). When it didn't last longer than a few hours, I called my doctor to see if this was normal. She wanted me to come in and see her colleague that afternoon (her schedule was booked), because while it was possible that what I experienced was my period, but they wanted to see me to be sure.
Well, it turns out that I had a positive pregnancy test and an ultrasound showed a gestational sac. Since my last period was in March of 2006, and the sac was so small, the doctor had no way of dating the pregnancy. She sent me for bloodwork to get a better idea of how far along I was. So that afternoon and the following Saturday I had my blood drawn to measure my progesterone and HCG levels to determine (a) how far along I was, and (b) whether the pregnancy was viable.
My next appointment was Monday. I return to the doctor's office and she tells me that not only do my progesterone levels look great and my HCG levels are increasing appropriately, but their high level are indicative of twins. Mind you, nobody in my family has had twins. Well, one second cousin once or twice removed, but that was because her sister donated two eggs that were fertilized, implanted, and took, so that doesn't count. No twins by blood on my side, and none on hubby's side, either.
My head was spinning just a little bit. I went into this whole thing thinking I had passed a chemical pregnancy and here I sat, being told that I might be having twins. TWINS. I already have two sons, and now I'm going to go from two kids to FOUR KINDS in NINE MONTHS. Holy you-know-what. I think hubby's reaction sums it up perfectly: "Oh my God."
I had another ultrasound on Monday and the sac looked larger, a good sign, but we still couldn't see a heartbeat or signs of a baby. The doctor wasn't too worried because the office's ultrasound machine was circa 1973, and it was still early in my pregnancy (I figured I must have ovulated somewhere between Christmas and New Year's Eve, making me about five weeks along at this point). She wanted to see me in another week.
Another week, another ultrasound, still no conclusive evidence either way. Lather, rinse, repeat. Did this again for a second week, and the doctor decided I needed to go to the hospital to get an ultrasound done by the Seriously High Resolution Machine. Then we could get to the bottom of this mystery. My appointment was set for Friday morning.
During this whole time, I felt very "zen." Sure I was a little freaked about the prospect of twins, but if God thought I could handle it, then how bad could it be? It might be fun - and I just knew it was boy/girl twins. My cravings were completely different from when I was pregnant with the boys. Instead of pasta, bagels, and chocolate milk, all I wanted was McDonald's cheeseburgers and lemonade. I felt horrible all day long. I was breaking out. Hey, as long as there was at least one girl in there, it was all good.
As if I wasn't feeling "zen" enough, I happened to pick up a copy of Expecting Adam from my local library that Wednesday. I started reading it before bed and, as I am wont to do, started to devour it. I understood that feeling of being connected with the Divine, because during these two weeks, I felt it. I knew with every cell of my body that there was nothing I could do to change the outcome - pregnancy, miscarriage, boy, girl, twins, whatever - because it was all written by someone other than me. And no matter how much I want to believe I do (believe me, I did lots and lots of online research about how to "sway" your pregnancy attempts to favor conceiving a girl - diet, douche, sperm bath, supplements, you name it, I probably read about it), I have absolutely no control over any of it.
And then came the day before the Big Ultrasound. I didn't start freaking out until about 4pm, and then full-on panic mode set in. In hindsight, I think it was because I knew what was going to happen the next day, and my primitive reptile brain just didn't know how to let go.
Friday, the babysitter comes and I head to the hospital. I try to stay calm and positive while I waited my turn, smiling at the very pregnant women whose appointments were before mine. I found the sounds of fetal dopplers soothing, and hoped that I'd be back soon to deliver my bundles of joy. Yeah right, come on. I knew what was going on, but I thought I'd spend just a few more minutes in Denial. Besides, I didn't want to freak out any pregnant women by having a meltdown in the waiting area.
The maternal fetal specialist and the sonographer both remembered me from when I was in to deliver my second son, which was very flattering. They're wonderful, compassionate people and I was glad to see them again. Even when M and Dr. C could clearly see that the gestational sac was empty, I was glad it was they who broke the news. Dr. C simply said, "Well, that just sucks!" And M told me she was going to get me some water. Even though on some level I knew what I was going to see, it still was a punch in the gut. I still collapsed into tears. I cried for a few minutes and then, when I felt I had sufficiently composed myself, headed for the elevator.
On my way to the elevator, I ran into the doctor I spoke to originally, who asked how everything was going. I guess I hadn't fully composed myself because I just burst into tears. Dr. D gave me a hug and sat me down to talk for a few minutes. Like M and Dr. C, she was wonderful. She lost a son at eight weeks, so I know she spoke from a place of knowledge. She reminded me that a miscarriage - even one with no fetal matter - is still a loss, and needs to be mourned like any other loss. And she also reminded me that I am fortunate that already I know I can get pregnant and deliver a healthy baby, unlike so many women with fertility issues. Some people might be offended that she would say that, but she's absolutely right.
I had a D&C the following Tuesday, and it was blessedly uneventful. Well, except that I almost fainted when they inserted my IV. You know those medical types, you have to keep them on their toes!
It's funny. When I mention that I had a miscarriage, the first reaction from most people is an apology, and sometimes pity. I don't want to seem unappreciative or ungrateful for people's concern, but I really feel that I understand why this happened. Thankfully this was not the worst thing that has ever befallen me. We weren't trying to get pregnant, and I didn't see a heartbeat before I found out that I had miscarried. And, most important, I was delivered an important lesson from the Divine that has reaffirmed my faith.
Thank you, Martha Beck. You helped me integrate that Divine lesson into my being. I can't wait to see what you help me and my Stargazer find!
One morning I thought I was getting my first period since weaning my second son (he's now 16 months old). When it didn't last longer than a few hours, I called my doctor to see if this was normal. She wanted me to come in and see her colleague that afternoon (her schedule was booked), because while it was possible that what I experienced was my period, but they wanted to see me to be sure.
Well, it turns out that I had a positive pregnancy test and an ultrasound showed a gestational sac. Since my last period was in March of 2006, and the sac was so small, the doctor had no way of dating the pregnancy. She sent me for bloodwork to get a better idea of how far along I was. So that afternoon and the following Saturday I had my blood drawn to measure my progesterone and HCG levels to determine (a) how far along I was, and (b) whether the pregnancy was viable.
My next appointment was Monday. I return to the doctor's office and she tells me that not only do my progesterone levels look great and my HCG levels are increasing appropriately, but their high level are indicative of twins. Mind you, nobody in my family has had twins. Well, one second cousin once or twice removed, but that was because her sister donated two eggs that were fertilized, implanted, and took, so that doesn't count. No twins by blood on my side, and none on hubby's side, either.
My head was spinning just a little bit. I went into this whole thing thinking I had passed a chemical pregnancy and here I sat, being told that I might be having twins. TWINS. I already have two sons, and now I'm going to go from two kids to FOUR KINDS in NINE MONTHS. Holy you-know-what. I think hubby's reaction sums it up perfectly: "Oh my God."
I had another ultrasound on Monday and the sac looked larger, a good sign, but we still couldn't see a heartbeat or signs of a baby. The doctor wasn't too worried because the office's ultrasound machine was circa 1973, and it was still early in my pregnancy (I figured I must have ovulated somewhere between Christmas and New Year's Eve, making me about five weeks along at this point). She wanted to see me in another week.
Another week, another ultrasound, still no conclusive evidence either way. Lather, rinse, repeat. Did this again for a second week, and the doctor decided I needed to go to the hospital to get an ultrasound done by the Seriously High Resolution Machine. Then we could get to the bottom of this mystery. My appointment was set for Friday morning.
During this whole time, I felt very "zen." Sure I was a little freaked about the prospect of twins, but if God thought I could handle it, then how bad could it be? It might be fun - and I just knew it was boy/girl twins. My cravings were completely different from when I was pregnant with the boys. Instead of pasta, bagels, and chocolate milk, all I wanted was McDonald's cheeseburgers and lemonade. I felt horrible all day long. I was breaking out. Hey, as long as there was at least one girl in there, it was all good.
As if I wasn't feeling "zen" enough, I happened to pick up a copy of Expecting Adam from my local library that Wednesday. I started reading it before bed and, as I am wont to do, started to devour it. I understood that feeling of being connected with the Divine, because during these two weeks, I felt it. I knew with every cell of my body that there was nothing I could do to change the outcome - pregnancy, miscarriage, boy, girl, twins, whatever - because it was all written by someone other than me. And no matter how much I want to believe I do (believe me, I did lots and lots of online research about how to "sway" your pregnancy attempts to favor conceiving a girl - diet, douche, sperm bath, supplements, you name it, I probably read about it), I have absolutely no control over any of it.
And then came the day before the Big Ultrasound. I didn't start freaking out until about 4pm, and then full-on panic mode set in. In hindsight, I think it was because I knew what was going to happen the next day, and my primitive reptile brain just didn't know how to let go.
Friday, the babysitter comes and I head to the hospital. I try to stay calm and positive while I waited my turn, smiling at the very pregnant women whose appointments were before mine. I found the sounds of fetal dopplers soothing, and hoped that I'd be back soon to deliver my bundles of joy. Yeah right, come on. I knew what was going on, but I thought I'd spend just a few more minutes in Denial. Besides, I didn't want to freak out any pregnant women by having a meltdown in the waiting area.
The maternal fetal specialist and the sonographer both remembered me from when I was in to deliver my second son, which was very flattering. They're wonderful, compassionate people and I was glad to see them again. Even when M and Dr. C could clearly see that the gestational sac was empty, I was glad it was they who broke the news. Dr. C simply said, "Well, that just sucks!" And M told me she was going to get me some water. Even though on some level I knew what I was going to see, it still was a punch in the gut. I still collapsed into tears. I cried for a few minutes and then, when I felt I had sufficiently composed myself, headed for the elevator.
On my way to the elevator, I ran into the doctor I spoke to originally, who asked how everything was going. I guess I hadn't fully composed myself because I just burst into tears. Dr. D gave me a hug and sat me down to talk for a few minutes. Like M and Dr. C, she was wonderful. She lost a son at eight weeks, so I know she spoke from a place of knowledge. She reminded me that a miscarriage - even one with no fetal matter - is still a loss, and needs to be mourned like any other loss. And she also reminded me that I am fortunate that already I know I can get pregnant and deliver a healthy baby, unlike so many women with fertility issues. Some people might be offended that she would say that, but she's absolutely right.
I had a D&C the following Tuesday, and it was blessedly uneventful. Well, except that I almost fainted when they inserted my IV. You know those medical types, you have to keep them on their toes!
It's funny. When I mention that I had a miscarriage, the first reaction from most people is an apology, and sometimes pity. I don't want to seem unappreciative or ungrateful for people's concern, but I really feel that I understand why this happened. Thankfully this was not the worst thing that has ever befallen me. We weren't trying to get pregnant, and I didn't see a heartbeat before I found out that I had miscarried. And, most important, I was delivered an important lesson from the Divine that has reaffirmed my faith.
Thank you, Martha Beck. You helped me integrate that Divine lesson into my being. I can't wait to see what you help me and my Stargazer find!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Always a Catch
About a month ago I rambled on about joining a gym, but wasn't sure which one to join. Well, after much debating and gnashing of teeth, I finally decided to join the local non-YMCA gym. It was only $30/month, I could cancel at any time with only thirty days' notice, and they offered child care at no additional charge.
I should have known better than to sign a contract that began on April Fool's Day.
Three days after joining, on my second visit, my friend M came out of a spinning class to tell me that the owners had announced to the class that another local gym franchise was taking over the gym THE NEXT DAY and that the new owners would not offer child care. Coincidentally, the day they announced this was also the day AFTER members' EFT accounts were hit for April's fees. Nice, huh?
So M and I went back to the drawing board. Actually, M did - she did an amazing job calling every gym in the area to get rates and details.
So here's my latest dilemma. A large franchise is opening another location very close to the gym to which I briefly belonged, but they're not scheduled to open until August at the earliest. The closest open site is 15 minutes away, which isn't bad. However, while they offer $20/month memberships, child care is an extra $30/month. Since I don't have a babysitter anymore (that should really be the topic of a post for another time), I need to pay that extra fee if I want to work out. The other catch is that it's a twelve month committment. I can live with that, but hubster and I are planning on getting pregnant within the next twelve months. Insert monkey wrench here...
Gah! More debating and gnashing of teeth...
I should have known better than to sign a contract that began on April Fool's Day.
Three days after joining, on my second visit, my friend M came out of a spinning class to tell me that the owners had announced to the class that another local gym franchise was taking over the gym THE NEXT DAY and that the new owners would not offer child care. Coincidentally, the day they announced this was also the day AFTER members' EFT accounts were hit for April's fees. Nice, huh?
So M and I went back to the drawing board. Actually, M did - she did an amazing job calling every gym in the area to get rates and details.
So here's my latest dilemma. A large franchise is opening another location very close to the gym to which I briefly belonged, but they're not scheduled to open until August at the earliest. The closest open site is 15 minutes away, which isn't bad. However, while they offer $20/month memberships, child care is an extra $30/month. Since I don't have a babysitter anymore (that should really be the topic of a post for another time), I need to pay that extra fee if I want to work out. The other catch is that it's a twelve month committment. I can live with that, but hubster and I are planning on getting pregnant within the next twelve months. Insert monkey wrench here...
Gah! More debating and gnashing of teeth...
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Was I Out Sick That Day?
Am I the only one who feels that I learned some major, important life lessons about twenty five years after I should have?
I just finished reading Odd Girl Out, a book about how girls bully through hidden aggression rather than the overt, physical manner in which boys bully one another. I know, I don't have daughters, so why was I reading it? 1. It looked interesting. 2. That girls begin to lose interest in appearing smart right around puberty, and how this affects them in other aspects of their lives, interests me. 3. The title describes how I have felt many times during my teen years. 4. I've always meant to read Reviving Ophelia but haven't gotten around to it yet, so this seemed like a title in a similar vein.
The author interviewed hundreds of young girls and women, asking them about their experiences with bullying. Everyone had a story to tell, whether the aggressor or the victim of shunning, building alliances, spreading rumors, and so on. What I found most interesting is that most of the girls and women who were victims of bullying learned how to deal with being on the receiving end pretty much before they graduated high school.
I was the victim of bullying several times, starting in elementary school and continuing pretty much until my family moved from New Jersey to Ohio at the end of my freshman year of high school. I never told my parents; I was too embarrassed to let them know how some girls who I thought were friends (and a few who I knew weren't) were treating me. I felt like I had done something wrong (a common thread in the book), and that I somehow deserved to be treated like this (another common belief).
Yet it wasn't until I was in my mid- to late-twenties that I realized that I like who I am, and if other people don't, that's their problem. Now that I'm a mother, I don't have time for this kind of behavior. I've met many other mothers and if they don't like me, oh well. If they don't call me, I don't worry that they're secretly getting together to mock me behind my back. I know how busy we are raising our children. Maybe our schedules, children, or our own personalities don't mesh. That's just how things go.
I wish I was brave enough to have reached out to someone when I was younger. I wish there was a teacher I trusted, instead of those who dismissed me as a "goody goody" who didn't know when to stop being a pest. I wish schools had psychologists back in the 80s, so someone could have given me the opportunity to role play and practice better ways to handle situations when I was bullied.
I know I can't change the past, but I would be curious to know who I'd be today if I gained those tools, that knowledge, when I was in my teens instead of when I was almost thirty.
I just finished reading Odd Girl Out, a book about how girls bully through hidden aggression rather than the overt, physical manner in which boys bully one another. I know, I don't have daughters, so why was I reading it? 1. It looked interesting. 2. That girls begin to lose interest in appearing smart right around puberty, and how this affects them in other aspects of their lives, interests me. 3. The title describes how I have felt many times during my teen years. 4. I've always meant to read Reviving Ophelia but haven't gotten around to it yet, so this seemed like a title in a similar vein.
The author interviewed hundreds of young girls and women, asking them about their experiences with bullying. Everyone had a story to tell, whether the aggressor or the victim of shunning, building alliances, spreading rumors, and so on. What I found most interesting is that most of the girls and women who were victims of bullying learned how to deal with being on the receiving end pretty much before they graduated high school.
I was the victim of bullying several times, starting in elementary school and continuing pretty much until my family moved from New Jersey to Ohio at the end of my freshman year of high school. I never told my parents; I was too embarrassed to let them know how some girls who I thought were friends (and a few who I knew weren't) were treating me. I felt like I had done something wrong (a common thread in the book), and that I somehow deserved to be treated like this (another common belief).
Yet it wasn't until I was in my mid- to late-twenties that I realized that I like who I am, and if other people don't, that's their problem. Now that I'm a mother, I don't have time for this kind of behavior. I've met many other mothers and if they don't like me, oh well. If they don't call me, I don't worry that they're secretly getting together to mock me behind my back. I know how busy we are raising our children. Maybe our schedules, children, or our own personalities don't mesh. That's just how things go.
I wish I was brave enough to have reached out to someone when I was younger. I wish there was a teacher I trusted, instead of those who dismissed me as a "goody goody" who didn't know when to stop being a pest. I wish schools had psychologists back in the 80s, so someone could have given me the opportunity to role play and practice better ways to handle situations when I was bullied.
I know I can't change the past, but I would be curious to know who I'd be today if I gained those tools, that knowledge, when I was in my teens instead of when I was almost thirty.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Random Ramblings...
Yeah, I feel like I should get myself into the habit of writing more frequent posts so as to hone my writing chops, but the Blog Topic Muse seems to have taken the evening off.
I want to join a gym, but I'm wavering between joining an independent gym or the YMCA. The gym is way cheaper, but they only offer one class that works with my schedule, spinning at 9:30 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They have free childcare, which is perfect, but I can only make the Tuesday class. The Y has more classes, but not during preschool. M is going to see if the gym is planning to run classes throughout the summer, and if they're going to change the days next year when the boys are in school MWF. That might help me decide.
I've been totally sucked into the WMB. What can I say, I'm a total geek. I have embraced my inner dork, and I love her.
Hubby and I had a great chat Saturday night about building on to our house. We'd put on a garage with a second story playroom, a mudroom, and expand the kitchen. I got such a charge from the conversation; I'm excited that this might actually happen!
As much as I look forward to Easter this Sunday, I really need to be more disciplined about cutting out sugar. All of that chocolate is not going to help that effort. I was doing so well after the holidays, right up until I found out I was pregnant. I told myself I could go crazy for a week after the D&C, and while I have cut back, I find myself picking on the candy the boys got at the egg hunts this past weekend. It's not good. I need to get back on track because (a) it helped me drop those last stubborn pounds, and (b) I felt so much better.
Well, that's it for now. Let's hope I find something better to type about tomorrow, or soon.
I want to join a gym, but I'm wavering between joining an independent gym or the YMCA. The gym is way cheaper, but they only offer one class that works with my schedule, spinning at 9:30 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They have free childcare, which is perfect, but I can only make the Tuesday class. The Y has more classes, but not during preschool. M is going to see if the gym is planning to run classes throughout the summer, and if they're going to change the days next year when the boys are in school MWF. That might help me decide.
I've been totally sucked into the WMB. What can I say, I'm a total geek. I have embraced my inner dork, and I love her.
Hubby and I had a great chat Saturday night about building on to our house. We'd put on a garage with a second story playroom, a mudroom, and expand the kitchen. I got such a charge from the conversation; I'm excited that this might actually happen!
As much as I look forward to Easter this Sunday, I really need to be more disciplined about cutting out sugar. All of that chocolate is not going to help that effort. I was doing so well after the holidays, right up until I found out I was pregnant. I told myself I could go crazy for a week after the D&C, and while I have cut back, I find myself picking on the candy the boys got at the egg hunts this past weekend. It's not good. I need to get back on track because (a) it helped me drop those last stubborn pounds, and (b) I felt so much better.
Well, that's it for now. Let's hope I find something better to type about tomorrow, or soon.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Chocolate-fed Angst
I had a great weekend, aside from one near-panic attack.
Saturday was our lake association's brunch with the Easter Bunny. All of the neighborhood kids had a blast. Unfortunately, we had to leave after about forty-five minutes because Ted was just incredibly cranky and nothing seemed to help. So we gave him lunch and put him down for a nap.
(warning: the next section is kinda nasty, so consider yourself warned)
When he woke from his nap, it soon became crystal clear why Ted was screaming so much at the clubhouse. The poop of the century did not want to leave the kid's behind. I tried to scoop some out with a wipe, but that didn't work. I brought him into the bathroom and slathered his butt with vaseline, but that didn't work either. One frantic phone call to the pediatrician's office and one return call later, I was on my way to get some glycerine suppositories.
The good news is that it did the trick. Not five minutes later, the first golf ball is out. Ten minutes after that, Ted is a new child. He's happy, he's singing, he's smiling. Hurray! The bad news is that we have now missed the guitar jam to which I was going to take Jack. Sorry Julie!
(okay, moving on...)
Today we had a very busy day. Our neighbors had their fourth annual egg hunt at their house. We all went and had a great time chatting with our neighbors, following the boys as they searched for eggs, and munched coffeecake and chatted some more.
After lunch and Ted's nap we went to Rylan's birthday party. It was at the Starkweather House, which is next to our favorite playground in town. What a great place for a kid's birthday party! And what a fun party! Robert the Guitar Guy came and played for the kids, they did some crafts, had cupcakes, then got to pull ribbons on a pinata. The pinata was funny - each kid got to pull a ribbon to see if theirs would open the door to let out the candy. Jack was wandering around the room while everyone else went, until one of the parents asked if everyone had had a turn. A few of us yelled "Jack hasn't gone yet!" so after some prodding from me (hello, pay attention, boy!) he goes up to pull a ribbon. And wouldn't you know, that's the one that releases all the candy.
And I have indulged in so much chocolate that I have hives on my arms and back. At least my throat isn't scratchy anymore. One of these days I'll learn and not go nuts on sugar.
Yeah, right...
Saturday was our lake association's brunch with the Easter Bunny. All of the neighborhood kids had a blast. Unfortunately, we had to leave after about forty-five minutes because Ted was just incredibly cranky and nothing seemed to help. So we gave him lunch and put him down for a nap.
(warning: the next section is kinda nasty, so consider yourself warned)
When he woke from his nap, it soon became crystal clear why Ted was screaming so much at the clubhouse. The poop of the century did not want to leave the kid's behind. I tried to scoop some out with a wipe, but that didn't work. I brought him into the bathroom and slathered his butt with vaseline, but that didn't work either. One frantic phone call to the pediatrician's office and one return call later, I was on my way to get some glycerine suppositories.
The good news is that it did the trick. Not five minutes later, the first golf ball is out. Ten minutes after that, Ted is a new child. He's happy, he's singing, he's smiling. Hurray! The bad news is that we have now missed the guitar jam to which I was going to take Jack. Sorry Julie!
(okay, moving on...)
Today we had a very busy day. Our neighbors had their fourth annual egg hunt at their house. We all went and had a great time chatting with our neighbors, following the boys as they searched for eggs, and munched coffeecake and chatted some more.
After lunch and Ted's nap we went to Rylan's birthday party. It was at the Starkweather House, which is next to our favorite playground in town. What a great place for a kid's birthday party! And what a fun party! Robert the Guitar Guy came and played for the kids, they did some crafts, had cupcakes, then got to pull ribbons on a pinata. The pinata was funny - each kid got to pull a ribbon to see if theirs would open the door to let out the candy. Jack was wandering around the room while everyone else went, until one of the parents asked if everyone had had a turn. A few of us yelled "Jack hasn't gone yet!" so after some prodding from me (hello, pay attention, boy!) he goes up to pull a ribbon. And wouldn't you know, that's the one that releases all the candy.
And I have indulged in so much chocolate that I have hives on my arms and back. At least my throat isn't scratchy anymore. One of these days I'll learn and not go nuts on sugar.
Yeah, right...
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Guy in the Yellow Skivvy
(for those of you who aren't in the know, the skivvy in this instance does not refer to underwear but to a shirt)
Yeah, I'm thirteen again. I should have expected this.
Jack's been completely obsessed with the Wiggles lately and, truth be told, I'm kinda enabling him. I've been bitten by a cute, little, wiggly bug, and now I'm infected. Yes, I will admit to everyone here (cue the crickets chirping) that I am enjoying watching and listening to the Wiggles as much as my kids are. Maybe a little bit more so. I'm the one constantly checking the website to see if they've posted dates for a show in CT (they have). I'm the one who drove to Big Lots to buy five DVDs at $4 apiece. Did you know they have a message board? And it's mostly parents (the moms, I presume) who post. The WMB (Wiggly Message Board... ugh, I sound like a crazed Durannie again) told me about the DVDs at Big Lots. They also told me that Greg Page (the former yellow Wiggle who left the band due to an illness that sometimes causes him to pass out an inopportune times, such as during a performance) has had a solo career for about ten years. Would you believe his music is actually kinda listenable? (draging toes across the dirt...) Um, I know this because I went to his webpage and listened to the clips. I thought constantly playing "Taba Naba" might get old (a little, but what a gorgeous voice, even if it is kiddie music).
Yeah, I need a grownup hobby.
Yeah, I'm thirteen again. I should have expected this.
Jack's been completely obsessed with the Wiggles lately and, truth be told, I'm kinda enabling him. I've been bitten by a cute, little, wiggly bug, and now I'm infected. Yes, I will admit to everyone here (cue the crickets chirping) that I am enjoying watching and listening to the Wiggles as much as my kids are. Maybe a little bit more so. I'm the one constantly checking the website to see if they've posted dates for a show in CT (they have). I'm the one who drove to Big Lots to buy five DVDs at $4 apiece. Did you know they have a message board? And it's mostly parents (the moms, I presume) who post. The WMB (Wiggly Message Board... ugh, I sound like a crazed Durannie again) told me about the DVDs at Big Lots. They also told me that Greg Page (the former yellow Wiggle who left the band due to an illness that sometimes causes him to pass out an inopportune times, such as during a performance) has had a solo career for about ten years. Would you believe his music is actually kinda listenable? (draging toes across the dirt...) Um, I know this because I went to his webpage and listened to the clips. I thought constantly playing "Taba Naba" might get old (a little, but what a gorgeous voice, even if it is kiddie music).
Yeah, I need a grownup hobby.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)