Monday, July 31, 2006
According to Lauren
...Lindsay has potatoes instead of piggies. As in "this little potato went to market".
...the circles represent the bad guys. The triangles are the good guys. The good guys are going to kill the bad guys.
...she's saving the tapioca pudding for her friend Joe from Blue's Clues.
...the circles represent the bad guys. The triangles are the good guys. The good guys are going to kill the bad guys.
...she's saving the tapioca pudding for her friend Joe from Blue's Clues.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Still too soon
An ad aired for the movie World Trade Center, an Oliver Stone movie which will be released in August. I didn't make it to the end of the 30-second spot without erupting into tears. There are many people who lost family and friends that day. I did not. But it was still one of the most horrible days of my life.
We'd had a loss in the spring, and though I felt physically better from the first ectopic pregnancy, I was raw emotionally. I was trying to pull myself out of a depression that felt like it was swallowing me...and so, every day, I would get off the subway 30 blocks from my office, and force myself to walk those blocks. The rush of endorphins made me feel a little better, and then I would reward myself with a coffee and a cigarette before rushing upstairs to my empty office.
I walked down 8th Avenue that day. It was a beautiful, cool day with one of the bluest skies I ever remember. I didn't hear or see the planes hit, but realized as I got further downtown, that people were stopped in the middle of the street looking downtown. I could see there was a fire and lots of smoke from the first plane, and something John had said rumbled through my head. Planes are always hitting the World Trade Center. It wasn't until I got to the coffee shop near my office...they were listening to 1010WINS...that I realized what had happened. While I was in the coffee shop, the second plane hit.
I got back out on the street, and there were now a lot of people walled against the building staring at the inferno of the top floors of both buildings. A huge gaping hole appeared where that first plane gored Tower 1. I walked quickly to my building and got into my office.
The phone rang was ringing as I sat down at my desk. My mom. Then Alec. The phones were pretty much useless after those first fifteen minutes. I turned on my workstation and started running aging reports.
Two of my coworkers arrived around 10. Both had recently emigrated to the US. Slava was a soft-spoken man from the Ukraine, and Sujarit, a Thai who had been rechristened Tony C because he had a note pinned on him with "To NYC" scrawled on it when he arrived at US Immigration in New York. Tony was pale when he arrived. His subway from Queens evacuated at 14th Street in time for him to see Tower 1 crumble to the ground.
We sat at our desks working in silence to the hum of the nearby server room and the radio announcing what they thought was happening. By 10:30, those buildings were gone. I sat blinking listening to the radio. I just couldn't wrap my brain around that they were gone.
I nervously got up for a cigarette then, and blurted out I was afraid to be alone on the street...it was so eerie earlier. Slava quietly got up and we walked down to the street together. Tony followed. The only traffic now going down Varick Street were emergency vehicles, and the scream of sirens seemed to echo from everywhere. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air. I stared at where those buildings were, hardly believing they weren't any more. Tony turned his back to it, his expression was hard.
Around 3, the lettered subways were running, and there were Metro North trains leaving Grand Central Station. The 3 of us left the office and walked across town to the NR station on Prince and Broadway. The smell of smoke choked us and smelled...toxic. There were dust covered people on the streets who'd come from further downtown. We said nothing as we parted.
When I arrived home I sat on the terrace for hours waiting for Alec to drive back from Long Island, smoking cigarette after cigarette until an entire pack was smoked. The sound of sirens continued, and that toxic smoke smell hung in the air.
We'd had a loss in the spring, and though I felt physically better from the first ectopic pregnancy, I was raw emotionally. I was trying to pull myself out of a depression that felt like it was swallowing me...and so, every day, I would get off the subway 30 blocks from my office, and force myself to walk those blocks. The rush of endorphins made me feel a little better, and then I would reward myself with a coffee and a cigarette before rushing upstairs to my empty office.
I walked down 8th Avenue that day. It was a beautiful, cool day with one of the bluest skies I ever remember. I didn't hear or see the planes hit, but realized as I got further downtown, that people were stopped in the middle of the street looking downtown. I could see there was a fire and lots of smoke from the first plane, and something John had said rumbled through my head. Planes are always hitting the World Trade Center. It wasn't until I got to the coffee shop near my office...they were listening to 1010WINS...that I realized what had happened. While I was in the coffee shop, the second plane hit.
I got back out on the street, and there were now a lot of people walled against the building staring at the inferno of the top floors of both buildings. A huge gaping hole appeared where that first plane gored Tower 1. I walked quickly to my building and got into my office.
The phone rang was ringing as I sat down at my desk. My mom. Then Alec. The phones were pretty much useless after those first fifteen minutes. I turned on my workstation and started running aging reports.
Two of my coworkers arrived around 10. Both had recently emigrated to the US. Slava was a soft-spoken man from the Ukraine, and Sujarit, a Thai who had been rechristened Tony C because he had a note pinned on him with "To NYC" scrawled on it when he arrived at US Immigration in New York. Tony was pale when he arrived. His subway from Queens evacuated at 14th Street in time for him to see Tower 1 crumble to the ground.
We sat at our desks working in silence to the hum of the nearby server room and the radio announcing what they thought was happening. By 10:30, those buildings were gone. I sat blinking listening to the radio. I just couldn't wrap my brain around that they were gone.
I nervously got up for a cigarette then, and blurted out I was afraid to be alone on the street...it was so eerie earlier. Slava quietly got up and we walked down to the street together. Tony followed. The only traffic now going down Varick Street were emergency vehicles, and the scream of sirens seemed to echo from everywhere. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air. I stared at where those buildings were, hardly believing they weren't any more. Tony turned his back to it, his expression was hard.
Around 3, the lettered subways were running, and there were Metro North trains leaving Grand Central Station. The 3 of us left the office and walked across town to the NR station on Prince and Broadway. The smell of smoke choked us and smelled...toxic. There were dust covered people on the streets who'd come from further downtown. We said nothing as we parted.
When I arrived home I sat on the terrace for hours waiting for Alec to drive back from Long Island, smoking cigarette after cigarette until an entire pack was smoked. The sound of sirens continued, and that toxic smoke smell hung in the air.
Friday, July 28, 2006
What Scarlett said
I had to post this. It's now tomorrow, and my horrible no good bad day is finally over.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Remembering that South Park song
Alec's uncle arrived today to see Alec's mom. I wasn't thrilled to hear he was returning, because he's crazy and I find him grating even when he's not being crazy. Alec assured me that he was just going to pick Karin up early in the morning ("Maybe even before you're up.") to go into the city and drop her off after they went to see a show this evening. His flight was this morning rather than last night, and when Karin phoned him this morning, he planned to nap before they went out...so he was to arrive around 1 PM.
At 1:03 PM, he arrived. Karin and Lauren were upstairs cleaning Lauren's freshwater fish tank. I was in the living room changing Lindsay's diaper. He knocked on the door. Then rang the doorbell about 3 times. And then began pounding on the door. I felt every hair prickling up on the back of my neck as I fastened the tabs of Lindsay's diaper. Finally, I picked her up. and opened the door.
He stood with a USPS package in his hand that had arrived with our mail. I shifted a fussy, hungry Lindsay from shoulder to shoulder. He handed me the box. I set it down on the floor and closed the door behind me.
"I keep turning up like a bad penny," he grinned.
"Um, hi." I said. I closed the front door behind me, and moved a now crying Lindsay into my arms, and made my way back to the couch.
"Where is Karin?" he surveyed the room, and began to eye my open laptop on the desk.
"Upstairs helping Lauren with her fishtank." I replied. Lindsay finally decided to accept the botte in my hand and was gulping loudly.
"Oh. In that case, can I check my email?" he gestured at the laptop.
"Sure." I said. At this point, Lindsay spit out the bottle and began whimpering, full of gas from gulping. As I changed her position, to burp her, her crying got louder.
"Well, how do I do it?"
"There are a few browser windows open. Or you can go to the Start menu and open Internet Explorer from there." I said. Lindsay's crying raised to a near fever pitch at this point.
He persisted. "I guess it isn't your machine."
"It is mine. I don't like icons on my desktop."
"Well. I can't figure it out," he whined.
"I'm sorry I can't help you. I have my hands full. I am sure Karin can show you when she comes downstairs."
I guess at this point, he began typing in one of my Firefox windows and figured it out because he stopped talking.
Lauren padded downstairs with Karin calling behind her "I'll tell you when it's done, honey, and then you can come up and see how clean it is..." Lauren must have been "helping" too much.
"Hi," Lauren said to Uncle as she came around the corner.
He ignored her.
"Tutu and I were playing 'Ants in the Pants'" she said, gesturing at the game set up on the floor. "Would you like to play with me? It's a fun game."
No response again.
I say, "Lauren, Uncle is engrossed in his email. When Tutu comes down, they are going out. I don't think Uncle has time to play the game with you."
"No, Mom. I don't think he heard me." Lauren said crossly.
"Lauren...he just doesn't have time...if you get 'Gobble It' I will play that with you now. I can't play 'Ants in the Pants' while I am feeding Lindsay, but we can play 'Gobble It' or 'Caribou'".
"Mom, he just can't hear me." Lauren walks over to the desk to stand in front of him.
He waves her away without even looking at her.
Lauren continues to talk loudly, sincerely believing that he must me hard of hearing.
Lindsay is, of course, screaming again because she wants the bottle back, or maybe has another gas bubble. So my mind is racing that I want to go upstairs and tell Karin to leave with him RIGHT NOW or I want to throw him out of my house because I can't believe he is ignoring Lauren while using my effin computer.
I did neither. I moved Lindsay to my other shoulder and said, "Lauren, please bring your lunch plate into the kitchen. You may get a popsicle out of the freezer for dessert."
"Ok, Mom." she dutifully picked up her plate, and ran to get her dessert.
At this point, Uncle walked over to stand next to me. My skin was crawling and I couldn't even look at him. I really wanted to spit on him. He pointed his bony finger towards Lindsay's eye and asked, "What is that thing on her eyelid?"
"A birthmark. Karin is upstairs."
He went upstairs, and she must have yelled at him to go back downstairs, because he returned, demanding this time to know what the weather was going to be like this afternoon.
"I'm sorry. I have no idea."
"You don't watch the weather?"
"No. I don't."
"Well, I forgot my umbrella. Do you have one I could borrow?"
"No. I don't own an umbrella. I am sure Alec took his with him to Miami."
He looked at me doubtfully.
"He keeps it in the dining room in the bookshelf. You are welcome to look."
At that point, Karin came downstairs.
He announced, "No one seems to know the weather, and now I have to go back to the hotel to get an umbrella because there isn't one here." With that, they left.
At 1:03 PM, he arrived. Karin and Lauren were upstairs cleaning Lauren's freshwater fish tank. I was in the living room changing Lindsay's diaper. He knocked on the door. Then rang the doorbell about 3 times. And then began pounding on the door. I felt every hair prickling up on the back of my neck as I fastened the tabs of Lindsay's diaper. Finally, I picked her up. and opened the door.
He stood with a USPS package in his hand that had arrived with our mail. I shifted a fussy, hungry Lindsay from shoulder to shoulder. He handed me the box. I set it down on the floor and closed the door behind me.
"I keep turning up like a bad penny," he grinned.
"Um, hi." I said. I closed the front door behind me, and moved a now crying Lindsay into my arms, and made my way back to the couch.
"Where is Karin?" he surveyed the room, and began to eye my open laptop on the desk.
"Upstairs helping Lauren with her fishtank." I replied. Lindsay finally decided to accept the botte in my hand and was gulping loudly.
"Oh. In that case, can I check my email?" he gestured at the laptop.
"Sure." I said. At this point, Lindsay spit out the bottle and began whimpering, full of gas from gulping. As I changed her position, to burp her, her crying got louder.
"Well, how do I do it?"
"There are a few browser windows open. Or you can go to the Start menu and open Internet Explorer from there." I said. Lindsay's crying raised to a near fever pitch at this point.
He persisted. "I guess it isn't your machine."
"It is mine. I don't like icons on my desktop."
"Well. I can't figure it out," he whined.
"I'm sorry I can't help you. I have my hands full. I am sure Karin can show you when she comes downstairs."
I guess at this point, he began typing in one of my Firefox windows and figured it out because he stopped talking.
Lauren padded downstairs with Karin calling behind her "I'll tell you when it's done, honey, and then you can come up and see how clean it is..." Lauren must have been "helping" too much.
"Hi," Lauren said to Uncle as she came around the corner.
He ignored her.
"Tutu and I were playing 'Ants in the Pants'" she said, gesturing at the game set up on the floor. "Would you like to play with me? It's a fun game."
No response again.
I say, "Lauren, Uncle is engrossed in his email. When Tutu comes down, they are going out. I don't think Uncle has time to play the game with you."
"No, Mom. I don't think he heard me." Lauren said crossly.
"Lauren...he just doesn't have time...if you get 'Gobble It' I will play that with you now. I can't play 'Ants in the Pants' while I am feeding Lindsay, but we can play 'Gobble It' or 'Caribou'".
"Mom, he just can't hear me." Lauren walks over to the desk to stand in front of him.
He waves her away without even looking at her.
Lauren continues to talk loudly, sincerely believing that he must me hard of hearing.
Lindsay is, of course, screaming again because she wants the bottle back, or maybe has another gas bubble. So my mind is racing that I want to go upstairs and tell Karin to leave with him RIGHT NOW or I want to throw him out of my house because I can't believe he is ignoring Lauren while using my effin computer.
I did neither. I moved Lindsay to my other shoulder and said, "Lauren, please bring your lunch plate into the kitchen. You may get a popsicle out of the freezer for dessert."
"Ok, Mom." she dutifully picked up her plate, and ran to get her dessert.
At this point, Uncle walked over to stand next to me. My skin was crawling and I couldn't even look at him. I really wanted to spit on him. He pointed his bony finger towards Lindsay's eye and asked, "What is that thing on her eyelid?"
"A birthmark. Karin is upstairs."
He went upstairs, and she must have yelled at him to go back downstairs, because he returned, demanding this time to know what the weather was going to be like this afternoon.
"I'm sorry. I have no idea."
"You don't watch the weather?"
"No. I don't."
"Well, I forgot my umbrella. Do you have one I could borrow?"
"No. I don't own an umbrella. I am sure Alec took his with him to Miami."
He looked at me doubtfully.
"He keeps it in the dining room in the bookshelf. You are welcome to look."
At that point, Karin came downstairs.
He announced, "No one seems to know the weather, and now I have to go back to the hotel to get an umbrella because there isn't one here." With that, they left.
Mommy drive by
I was a victim of a Mommy Drive By today. The standard Mommy blog definition of a Mommy Drive By is when a perfect stranger feels it necessary to correct your parenting in a public place.
Lindsay has had her grumpypants on since Tuesday, and has been unable to go more than fifteen minutes at a time without screaming at the top of her lungs. Even fed, with clean diaper, and freshly burped, she still screams. It is, as you might imagine, maddening. Mercifully, she has been sleeping ok. I have been rushing to get as much done as possible during the sleep times.
I didn't manage to place a Peapod order yesterday, so I knew we had to stop at the local grocery for milk and bread. After we dropped Lauren off at daycare, Lindsay had fallen asleep in her carseat. So, I placed the carseat in the kid-holding part of the shopping cart and headed in to Stop and Shop. I ran down the aisles, throwing dairy products and produce in the cart. She started fussing as I grabbed the bananas, so I practically sprinted across the store to grab a loaf of bread. Lindsay had already started crying. I got in line, stroking her head, saying "It's ok.." as I loaded my groceries on to the conveyer belt. I set down my credit card and began stuffing the groceries into shopping bags as the cashier rung them through, clearly trying to get out of there as quickly as possible.
The cashier behind mine said, "Mommy, you really need to pick up your baby." My cashier turned to look at her and nod.
"Uh. No. I really need both hands so I can finish up here, thanks," I said as cordially as I could muster.
The woman behind me in line began to coo at Lindsay, still screaming, beginning to turn purple.
"How old is she?"
"Um. Nine weeks." I said succinctly.
"Has she been like this all day?" asked my cashier.
"She's been like this for nine weeks. Can I have my credit card back, please?"
The cashier looked at me sheepishly and handed me my American Express and my receipt in a wadded ball. I said thank you, stuffed the papers in my purse and turned to leave.
"I just don't understand why she won't pick her baby up and hold her," said the other cashier very loudly.
I felt my face grow hot as I pushed the cart toward the door. It was like a bad sitcom, with another Mom's cart angled out of her check out aisle and in my way. "Excuse me." And then her 2 boys ran directly in front of the cart as they chased each other around. "Excuse me, please." And then an old lady was sitting on the bench by the door with her cane out. "Please excuse me."
I got to the car, set the carseat into its base and took Lindsay out of the seat, still screaming. She screamed as I loaded the groceries out of my cart and into the trunk.
The old lady parked next to me asked if I needed help, and I replied, "No thanks." She began moving my bags into my car, "I've really got this under control, but thanks for your help" and then took the cart away.
I sat with Lindsay in the front seat of the car for a while until she finally calmed down. "Don't listen to those people," I whispered. "There's nothing wrong with you. I love you just the way you are...and more than you'll ever know."
Lindsay has had her grumpypants on since Tuesday, and has been unable to go more than fifteen minutes at a time without screaming at the top of her lungs. Even fed, with clean diaper, and freshly burped, she still screams. It is, as you might imagine, maddening. Mercifully, she has been sleeping ok. I have been rushing to get as much done as possible during the sleep times.
I didn't manage to place a Peapod order yesterday, so I knew we had to stop at the local grocery for milk and bread. After we dropped Lauren off at daycare, Lindsay had fallen asleep in her carseat. So, I placed the carseat in the kid-holding part of the shopping cart and headed in to Stop and Shop. I ran down the aisles, throwing dairy products and produce in the cart. She started fussing as I grabbed the bananas, so I practically sprinted across the store to grab a loaf of bread. Lindsay had already started crying. I got in line, stroking her head, saying "It's ok.." as I loaded my groceries on to the conveyer belt. I set down my credit card and began stuffing the groceries into shopping bags as the cashier rung them through, clearly trying to get out of there as quickly as possible.
The cashier behind mine said, "Mommy, you really need to pick up your baby." My cashier turned to look at her and nod.
"Uh. No. I really need both hands so I can finish up here, thanks," I said as cordially as I could muster.
The woman behind me in line began to coo at Lindsay, still screaming, beginning to turn purple.
"How old is she?"
"Um. Nine weeks." I said succinctly.
"Has she been like this all day?" asked my cashier.
"She's been like this for nine weeks. Can I have my credit card back, please?"
The cashier looked at me sheepishly and handed me my American Express and my receipt in a wadded ball. I said thank you, stuffed the papers in my purse and turned to leave.
"I just don't understand why she won't pick her baby up and hold her," said the other cashier very loudly.
I felt my face grow hot as I pushed the cart toward the door. It was like a bad sitcom, with another Mom's cart angled out of her check out aisle and in my way. "Excuse me." And then her 2 boys ran directly in front of the cart as they chased each other around. "Excuse me, please." And then an old lady was sitting on the bench by the door with her cane out. "Please excuse me."
I got to the car, set the carseat into its base and took Lindsay out of the seat, still screaming. She screamed as I loaded the groceries out of my cart and into the trunk.
The old lady parked next to me asked if I needed help, and I replied, "No thanks." She began moving my bags into my car, "I've really got this under control, but thanks for your help" and then took the cart away.
I sat with Lindsay in the front seat of the car for a while until she finally calmed down. "Don't listen to those people," I whispered. "There's nothing wrong with you. I love you just the way you are...and more than you'll ever know."
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Mouthy and Gassy
Dear Lauren and Lindsay,
I am very sorry I referred to you in conversation as Mouthy and Gassy. Even though it happened to be true at the time, it wasn't a very nice thing for me to say.
I love you both very much,
Mom
I am very sorry I referred to you in conversation as Mouthy and Gassy. Even though it happened to be true at the time, it wasn't a very nice thing for me to say.
I love you both very much,
Mom
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
In Which Lady Epiphany makes Dr Queen of Sheba flee the exam room quickly
I know you're going to tell me I need to find the girls a new pediatrician. The sad thing is that I really like Dr Biener. But Dr Queen of Sheba, who you'll remember from Chill baby, is going to drive me away from the practice.
Lindsay has had thrush, an oral yeast infection, for the past 3 1/2 weeks. I went to see Dr Biener on June 29. I blogged about it in Oy. At her 8-week appointment last week, the doctor covering for Dr Biener put Lindsay back on Nystatin, because, she said, Lindsay either still had thrush, or had it again. Today, after another week of medicine, Lindsay still has white patches on the insides of her cheek and on her tongue. So I called the pediatrician and went in with both girls.
Lauren and I amused ourselves looking at the patient education materials. Now, some of you know I used to work in medical education, so I find looking at these things usually interesting and sometimes amusing. Lauren poured over drawings of normal and abnormal ears, respiratory systems, and sinuses quizzing me on the indicated conditions and what we were looking at.
Enter Dr Q of S, who peered into Lindsay's mouth. "She has thrush."
Okay...so this didn't start so well. I swallowed, "Uh huh."
"Is someone following her hemangioma?" [fancy word for birthmark]
"Following it how?" I looked her in the eye. "Who would be following it?"
She blinked at me. Not the answer she was anticipating. "Uh. Well. It should be followed to make sure it isn't growing..."
My irritation is mounting now, because the last time I was in the office the first question I asked was "do they grow", and I was told they do not.
"...and doesn't interfere with her vision..."
"Uh huh. Well, really, I am concerned about this yeast infection. She has been on Nystatin 4 times a day for over 3 weeks. I am boiling her bottles, nipples, and the parts of my breast pump daily. I am using the prescription cream Dr Biener gave me. It's just not getting any better."
So then she asks questions like how often do I give the medicine. Answered. So the third time she asks it, I say, "Every 6 hours." because, maybe I have confused her with the 4 times a day thing. After about 10 minutes, she says "Well Nystatin doesn't kill yeast. There is a drug we can prescribe that does called Difluccan."
I say, "Great."
But then, she says, she's not going to give it to me.
Um...wha?
Yeah. Not giving it to me. She says I should put the Nystatin cream on her "diaper area". She alternates this term with "tushie", which I'm sorry, is NOT an acceptable substitute for vulva from a medical professional, which is what she meant...I'm kind of surprised Lauren didn't correct her.
"Listen, Dr Gul," I said as patiently as I could muster, "It has just been too long that she's had the infection and the Nystatin doesn't seem to be working..."
"But Nystatin is perfectly safe..." She continues to go on about how it's washed down with breast milk and comes out in her "poopie".
"Perfectly uneffective," I reply. "Is the Difluccan dangerous?"
"No. It is acceptable for neonates."
"Then, please explain why we want to wait until Friday?"
"Well, you don't have to come back in," she says quickly, "you can call me and I will phone in the prescription. I've seen the thrush, I don't need to see it again."
So I think my face changed at this point, realizing that Q of S is the 3rd doctor to have seen my baby's mouth, and yet I dragged myself in with the 2 kids, paid my copay, etc, and am being sent out without a plan to make it better until Friday.
"I will talk to you on Friday, Mrs Stoll," she says as she gets up and runs out the door. I sat there for about 5 minutes as Lindsay finished her meal.
Wow.
Lindsay has had thrush, an oral yeast infection, for the past 3 1/2 weeks. I went to see Dr Biener on June 29. I blogged about it in Oy. At her 8-week appointment last week, the doctor covering for Dr Biener put Lindsay back on Nystatin, because, she said, Lindsay either still had thrush, or had it again. Today, after another week of medicine, Lindsay still has white patches on the insides of her cheek and on her tongue. So I called the pediatrician and went in with both girls.
Lauren and I amused ourselves looking at the patient education materials. Now, some of you know I used to work in medical education, so I find looking at these things usually interesting and sometimes amusing. Lauren poured over drawings of normal and abnormal ears, respiratory systems, and sinuses quizzing me on the indicated conditions and what we were looking at.
Enter Dr Q of S, who peered into Lindsay's mouth. "She has thrush."
Okay...so this didn't start so well. I swallowed, "Uh huh."
"Is someone following her hemangioma?" [fancy word for birthmark]
"Following it how?" I looked her in the eye. "Who would be following it?"
She blinked at me. Not the answer she was anticipating. "Uh. Well. It should be followed to make sure it isn't growing..."
My irritation is mounting now, because the last time I was in the office the first question I asked was "do they grow", and I was told they do not.
"...and doesn't interfere with her vision..."
"Uh huh. Well, really, I am concerned about this yeast infection. She has been on Nystatin 4 times a day for over 3 weeks. I am boiling her bottles, nipples, and the parts of my breast pump daily. I am using the prescription cream Dr Biener gave me. It's just not getting any better."
So then she asks questions like how often do I give the medicine. Answered. So the third time she asks it, I say, "Every 6 hours." because, maybe I have confused her with the 4 times a day thing. After about 10 minutes, she says "Well Nystatin doesn't kill yeast. There is a drug we can prescribe that does called Difluccan."
I say, "Great."
But then, she says, she's not going to give it to me.
Um...wha?
Yeah. Not giving it to me. She says I should put the Nystatin cream on her "diaper area". She alternates this term with "tushie", which I'm sorry, is NOT an acceptable substitute for vulva from a medical professional, which is what she meant...I'm kind of surprised Lauren didn't correct her.
"Listen, Dr Gul," I said as patiently as I could muster, "It has just been too long that she's had the infection and the Nystatin doesn't seem to be working..."
"But Nystatin is perfectly safe..." She continues to go on about how it's washed down with breast milk and comes out in her "poopie".
"Perfectly uneffective," I reply. "Is the Difluccan dangerous?"
"No. It is acceptable for neonates."
"Then, please explain why we want to wait until Friday?"
"Well, you don't have to come back in," she says quickly, "you can call me and I will phone in the prescription. I've seen the thrush, I don't need to see it again."
So I think my face changed at this point, realizing that Q of S is the 3rd doctor to have seen my baby's mouth, and yet I dragged myself in with the 2 kids, paid my copay, etc, and am being sent out without a plan to make it better until Friday.
"I will talk to you on Friday, Mrs Stoll," she says as she gets up and runs out the door. I sat there for about 5 minutes as Lindsay finished her meal.
Wow.
Monday, July 24, 2006
About the blog
It's some sort of litmus test. My husband comes home from work and checks to see what I write.
"Lauren, there's no blog today."
"Uh huh."
"Now I don't know what happened today."
"Oh. Sorry, Dad."
"It's OK, Lauren."
"Lauren, there's no blog today."
"Uh huh."
"Now I don't know what happened today."
"Oh. Sorry, Dad."
"It's OK, Lauren."
Sunday, July 23, 2006
It's all in the bounce
As you know from earlier rants, I have a good amount of weight to lose. Although I have been eating lean meats, reduced fat dairy products, whole grains, and plenty of fruits and vegetables, I am unable to calorie restrict while there's milk production. I have been trying to find an exercise regimen I enjoy, which is a struggle because I find so much of it tearfully boring. Exercise isn't a social occasion for me, so the idea of going a class or the gym particularly as out of shape as I am currently is daunting.
I've been doing yoga since I've been cleared to exercise again, and it's great for flexability and building muscle, but it's not aerobic. So, I decided I would like to try running. Now, I haven't run since high school, and back then, I was a pretty lame runner. But all running requires is a pair of sneakers and a sports bra, so I laced them up and strapped down, and set off to run this afternoon.
I actually kept moving for 30 minutes, but it was certainly not a run. The few minutes in there I managed to run, I felt every jiggle and bounce of flesh hanging off of me. Ew, I thought, no wonder so many runners become so bony. After about 15 minutes, my feet felt too heavy to manage even the bounce. But, like I said, I kept moving. There was a senior in flip flops moving faster than I was. By the end of my "run", my cheeks were flushed, and my skin salty with sweat.
I've been doing yoga since I've been cleared to exercise again, and it's great for flexability and building muscle, but it's not aerobic. So, I decided I would like to try running. Now, I haven't run since high school, and back then, I was a pretty lame runner. But all running requires is a pair of sneakers and a sports bra, so I laced them up and strapped down, and set off to run this afternoon.
I actually kept moving for 30 minutes, but it was certainly not a run. The few minutes in there I managed to run, I felt every jiggle and bounce of flesh hanging off of me. Ew, I thought, no wonder so many runners become so bony. After about 15 minutes, my feet felt too heavy to manage even the bounce. But, like I said, I kept moving. There was a senior in flip flops moving faster than I was. By the end of my "run", my cheeks were flushed, and my skin salty with sweat.
How having kids replaces your parents in the not doing stupid stuff department
We settled into our living room with several newly delivered movies and a bag of microwaved popcorn. Lindsay was asleep in her swing, and Lauren was spending the night at Nanny and Poppy's house.
We bought another bottle of Patron. This time, Alec bought triple sec and Rose's lime, and set off to find a recipe on the Internet. Meanwhile, my mind wandered back to my days at Cyberstreet Cafe with Mike barking formulas over his shoulder at me "...salt the glass, rocks, jigger of tequila, lime and triple sec ponies..."
Well that's not so hard. I sliced up a lime, arranged it on a place with a generous dusting of Kosher salt. After rinsing 2 lowball glasses, I pressed them into the salt, filled them halfway with ice. I lined up 2 ounce and 1 ounce shot glasses, filled the 2 ounce with tequila, and split the 1 ounce with lime and triple sec. I poured them over the ice just as Alec came back into the kitchen.
"There are about a hundred margarita recipes on the Internet," he said, sounding defeated. He eyed the production line on the Boos board. "What's that?"
"I think it's a margarita."
He sniffed the glass, clearly impressed at presentation. "What if it's not?"
"Then we'll try again." I poured us a shot of tequila each in 2 ounce glasses. I licked the top of my hand and sprinkled a bit of Kosher salt, and pinched a lime between my fingers. Licked the salt off, downed the shot, and put the lime in my mouth.
"The ratio of tequila to triple sec and lime is very important." he said as he drank his shot.
"Try it."
He gingerly took a sip. His face lit up. "Hey. That's good."
So I made another. "You're right. That is good."
We went back to the kitchen, and I showed him how I'd put the drink together, as we had another shot of tequila. We were getting giggly, and my face was hot.
"Ha ha ha...You know these drinks are $18 a piece in The City?" he asked.
"We could make a pitcher and have a stand in the front yard..." I offered.
The third margarita was an error in judgment we wouldn't have made in Lauren's presence. So, we had 3 mixed drinks and 2 shots a piece. I know what you're thinking. Oh MY. I say, for those of you who haven't had Patron, it is so smooth you barely notice until it's no longer in your glass. Even when it is 5 drinks.
We bought another bottle of Patron. This time, Alec bought triple sec and Rose's lime, and set off to find a recipe on the Internet. Meanwhile, my mind wandered back to my days at Cyberstreet Cafe with Mike barking formulas over his shoulder at me "...salt the glass, rocks, jigger of tequila, lime and triple sec ponies..."
Well that's not so hard. I sliced up a lime, arranged it on a place with a generous dusting of Kosher salt. After rinsing 2 lowball glasses, I pressed them into the salt, filled them halfway with ice. I lined up 2 ounce and 1 ounce shot glasses, filled the 2 ounce with tequila, and split the 1 ounce with lime and triple sec. I poured them over the ice just as Alec came back into the kitchen.
"There are about a hundred margarita recipes on the Internet," he said, sounding defeated. He eyed the production line on the Boos board. "What's that?"
"I think it's a margarita."
He sniffed the glass, clearly impressed at presentation. "What if it's not?"
"Then we'll try again." I poured us a shot of tequila each in 2 ounce glasses. I licked the top of my hand and sprinkled a bit of Kosher salt, and pinched a lime between my fingers. Licked the salt off, downed the shot, and put the lime in my mouth.
"The ratio of tequila to triple sec and lime is very important." he said as he drank his shot.
"Try it."
He gingerly took a sip. His face lit up. "Hey. That's good."
So I made another. "You're right. That is good."
We went back to the kitchen, and I showed him how I'd put the drink together, as we had another shot of tequila. We were getting giggly, and my face was hot.
"Ha ha ha...You know these drinks are $18 a piece in The City?" he asked.
"We could make a pitcher and have a stand in the front yard..." I offered.
The third margarita was an error in judgment we wouldn't have made in Lauren's presence. So, we had 3 mixed drinks and 2 shots a piece. I know what you're thinking. Oh MY. I say, for those of you who haven't had Patron, it is so smooth you barely notice until it's no longer in your glass. Even when it is 5 drinks.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Not the firstborn
My dad tells this great story about dropping me on the floor when I was 6 months old and the rocking chair he was sitting in fell apart. I think he probably still has flashbacks of falling down and watching me fall away from him. He rushed me to my pediatrician, who declared me fine, and commented that he himself was the same way with his firstborn. "By the time you have 4, you barely notice when you bounce them on their heads," the doctor joked.
We were at the mall today with Lindsay. People fuss over new babies, and I can only imagine it is like it must be to be famous. People are constantly staring at you, and I am usually trying to ignore them, because they always ask "How old is..." "She." "How old is she?" "Nine weeks," I'll answer. Really there is no where else for the conversation to go. I'm not going to let strange lady at the mall who suddenly got in our faces as we're sitting in a massage chair at Brookstones hold my baby.
On the way up in the elevator, Alec was asked the question, and quoted the wrong number of weeks. I didn't correct him...Why? It isn't as though there's a quiz later.
When Lauren was a baby, I enjoyed the fuss. Now, it is a nuisance. While we were eating dinner, Alec and I were trying to figure out lines to turn around the conversation. Alec's was best, "What baby?"
We were at the mall today with Lindsay. People fuss over new babies, and I can only imagine it is like it must be to be famous. People are constantly staring at you, and I am usually trying to ignore them, because they always ask "How old is..." "She." "How old is she?" "Nine weeks," I'll answer. Really there is no where else for the conversation to go. I'm not going to let strange lady at the mall who suddenly got in our faces as we're sitting in a massage chair at Brookstones hold my baby.
On the way up in the elevator, Alec was asked the question, and quoted the wrong number of weeks. I didn't correct him...Why? It isn't as though there's a quiz later.
When Lauren was a baby, I enjoyed the fuss. Now, it is a nuisance. While we were eating dinner, Alec and I were trying to figure out lines to turn around the conversation. Alec's was best, "What baby?"
Friday, July 21, 2006
When the programming works
The girls and I went to see Nanny and Poppy at Nanny's sister's pool. As we got off the Garden State Parkway, I flipped off the radio and looked at Lauren in the rearview mirror.
"When we arrive at Sally's, Lauren, you're going to practice your good manners."
"Ok, Mommy."
"When we get there, you're going to say hello and give everyone a hug."
"OK, Mommy..." she said, sounding exasperated.
"Because it is good manners to say hello to people when we see them."
"Ok-aaayy..." she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Do I have to give them big hugs?"
"You can if you want to," I said as we were pulling into the driveway. We three approached the door, and Lauren stood on tiptoe to ring the bell.
Nanny opened the door and practically shrieked, "Hi!"
"Good manners..." I said sotto voce.
"Hello, Nanny!" Lauren said, throwing her arms around Nanny's neck and planting a kiss on her cheek. She faced her grandfather. "Hello, Poppy!" she said, giving him a hug.
"When we arrive at Sally's, Lauren, you're going to practice your good manners."
"Ok, Mommy."
"When we get there, you're going to say hello and give everyone a hug."
"OK, Mommy..." she said, sounding exasperated.
"Because it is good manners to say hello to people when we see them."
"Ok-aaayy..." she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Do I have to give them big hugs?"
"You can if you want to," I said as we were pulling into the driveway. We three approached the door, and Lauren stood on tiptoe to ring the bell.
Nanny opened the door and practically shrieked, "Hi!"
"Good manners..." I said sotto voce.
"Hello, Nanny!" Lauren said, throwing her arms around Nanny's neck and planting a kiss on her cheek. She faced her grandfather. "Hello, Poppy!" she said, giving him a hug.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Lauren's announcement
"I have a baby in my belly," Lauren announced on the way to McDonalds this evening.
"Really?"
"Mmm hmm."
"What's the baby's name?"
"Baby Boy Pirate."
"Oh. Nice."
"Because he's a baby and a boy and a pirate."
"Right. Makes sense."
"Really?"
"Mmm hmm."
"What's the baby's name?"
"Baby Boy Pirate."
"Oh. Nice."
"Because he's a baby and a boy and a pirate."
"Right. Makes sense."
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Another gem from Lauren
"I'm afraid of 3 things: trees, spiders, and monsters."
"Trees?"
"Yes. Trees."
"Um. Ok."
"Well, spiders bite."
"Yep."
"And monsters live under the bed."
"You said they live under Lindsay's bed."
"Right...and trees...well, trees are just scary."
"Trees?"
"Yes. Trees."
"Um. Ok."
"Well, spiders bite."
"Yep."
"And monsters live under the bed."
"You said they live under Lindsay's bed."
"Right...and trees...well, trees are just scary."
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
On the brink
Karen posed as my sister* to keep me company in the emergency room a few weeks ago. She brought this fabulous little novel that I finally started reading during my exam 2 Saturdays ago. I loved the book, and finished it in 2 days.
Michelle visited last Saturday and lent me this book. I read this one in less than 24 hours. I just couldn't put it down.
I so rarely have time to read, it has been like a minivacation to have actually finished 2 novels in 2 weeks time.
But between these 2 naughty little books, and packing away all my maternity clothes to discover how poorly all my real clothes still fit, I have developed an obsession with Manolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choo. Because, really who cares if you're wearing fat pants from Target if you have a fabulous pair of shoes?
*My real sister, Julie, will be 21 this week. This picture was taken a while ago, but I think we both look cute in it.
Edited to add: No, honey. I didn't actually buy the shoes.
Michelle visited last Saturday and lent me this book. I read this one in less than 24 hours. I just couldn't put it down.
I so rarely have time to read, it has been like a minivacation to have actually finished 2 novels in 2 weeks time.But between these 2 naughty little books, and packing away all my maternity clothes to discover how poorly all my real clothes still fit, I have developed an obsession with Manolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choo. Because, really who cares if you're wearing fat pants from Target if you have a fabulous pair of shoes?
*My real sister, Julie, will be 21 this week. This picture was taken a while ago, but I think we both look cute in it.
Edited to add: No, honey. I didn't actually buy the shoes.
Not ready to think about this, but...
...it's just so cute.There are a few issues though. I won't actually be ready to think about Hallowe'en until September. While Lauren was the right age at Hallowe'en to wear a bunting, I think Lindsay may find it restrictive and annoying.
Lauren and I looked at some of the bigger kid costumes, and they are very cute...but I don't really want to buy one now for her to change her mind 3 times about what she actually wants to be.
Yeah. September. We'll talk about this again then...
Monday, July 17, 2006
The 8 week old baby...
Lindsay weighed in today at 9 pounds, 11.8 ounces, and is 21 inches tall. She's grown 2 inches and gained 3 pounds since her 2-week old visit. It was apparent to me in those adorable little rolls of chubby thighs and wrists that she's grown a whole lot in the past few weeks.
Lindsay has been sleeping about 5 1/2 hours at night now. She has started conversational cooing in reply to talking to her. It's very cute. She's flashing more of those smiles, as she able to see a bit farther. She gave Lauren the biggest grin I've seen yet.
She's not too big on the daytime sleeping, but will usually snooze for an hour or so after she eats, which is about every 3-4 hours.
Lindsay has been sleeping about 5 1/2 hours at night now. She has started conversational cooing in reply to talking to her. It's very cute. She's flashing more of those smiles, as she able to see a bit farther. She gave Lauren the biggest grin I've seen yet.
She's not too big on the daytime sleeping, but will usually snooze for an hour or so after she eats, which is about every 3-4 hours.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Looking in
My friend Michelle came over to visit yesterday and spent the night, which was cool. We drank too much and stayed up too late, in other words, we had a good time. It wasn't quite the late night drinking we used to enjoy onsite after we completed a meeting when we worked together, but it was nice anyway.
Sleep deprivation compounded by a hangover this morning had me struggling to stay out of a foul mood, and Alec was pretty tired having traveled all week. He also took fussy Lindsay to bed around 10:30 PM so that we could chat, and also got up with her when she demanded a meal at some ghastly early morning hour. Neither of us were thrilled by an early morning Lauren bounding into the bed, particularly since she started by screaming that we'd closed the bedroom door. And then more screaming that we wouldn't get up immediately and fetch her some flakes.
Probably looking in, I would imagine that we were kind of a surly bunch this morning, since Lauren kept trying to get us to do whatever she happened to be fixated on at the moment, and we alternated between trying to distract her or telling her to shh. It is hard to be patient with her sometimes, but she's just a little girl trying to adjust with a lot, and her behavior can be trying. Particularly with the new language we've picked up recently from daycare "I'm going to kick your butt" and "monkeys are going to fly out of my butt"...well ok. I am not hitting it right, but it has to do with butts...along with the nervous lip-picking.
When we got home from Target and breakfast at the Edison Diner, Lindsay had a toxic waste dump diaper and then threw up all over my bed, generating 3 loads of laundry. I came downstairs with a now hungry baby, and promptly fell asleep on the couch.
Sleep deprivation compounded by a hangover this morning had me struggling to stay out of a foul mood, and Alec was pretty tired having traveled all week. He also took fussy Lindsay to bed around 10:30 PM so that we could chat, and also got up with her when she demanded a meal at some ghastly early morning hour. Neither of us were thrilled by an early morning Lauren bounding into the bed, particularly since she started by screaming that we'd closed the bedroom door. And then more screaming that we wouldn't get up immediately and fetch her some flakes.
Probably looking in, I would imagine that we were kind of a surly bunch this morning, since Lauren kept trying to get us to do whatever she happened to be fixated on at the moment, and we alternated between trying to distract her or telling her to shh. It is hard to be patient with her sometimes, but she's just a little girl trying to adjust with a lot, and her behavior can be trying. Particularly with the new language we've picked up recently from daycare "I'm going to kick your butt" and "monkeys are going to fly out of my butt"...well ok. I am not hitting it right, but it has to do with butts...along with the nervous lip-picking.
When we got home from Target and breakfast at the Edison Diner, Lindsay had a toxic waste dump diaper and then threw up all over my bed, generating 3 loads of laundry. I came downstairs with a now hungry baby, and promptly fell asleep on the couch.
Friday, July 14, 2006
A thank you, and a request for the Gay Caucus
You didn't know the guy who thought dressing up meant a t-shirt and jeans with no paint on them. The guy who bought 5 t-shirts, 2 pairs of jeans, white briefs, white tube socks, and a pair of white sneakers every fall from Timberland. Even when he started working jobs that required the office casual uniform of a buttoned shirt and khakis, he shopped the same way.
I don't believe the Gay Caucus permits such a blind eye to style, because surely something happened that Alec started buying designer jeans instead of whatever happened to be on sale at Sears. There is a tremendous difference in the colors and textures of his shirts these days...his summer shirts, I noticed as I was ironing the other day, are linens and silks. Gee, a far cry from that threadbare black Zevon t-shirt he used to wear when we went out to dinner.
And believe me, I appreciate it every time I encounter a friend's husband whose clothes are so ill-fitting, it is clear they are either from his rugby days in college when he had some muscle, or he just grabs 5 items from the clearance rack at Sears and runs out of there before he becomes stricken with, you know, shopping cooties.
At the beginning of Alec's initiation, he bought some really beautiful shoes. Gosh. The details do it for me...a guy wearing a nice watch and stylish footwear. Yum. Well, Gay Caucus, you know what I mean. But lately, I noticed if he's not wearing Merrills, he's wearing one of his two pairs of black Bostonians. Ummm, what happened? Did you get distracted by some other poor straight guy who doesn't know how to dress himself? Come on...we're so close!
I don't believe the Gay Caucus permits such a blind eye to style, because surely something happened that Alec started buying designer jeans instead of whatever happened to be on sale at Sears. There is a tremendous difference in the colors and textures of his shirts these days...his summer shirts, I noticed as I was ironing the other day, are linens and silks. Gee, a far cry from that threadbare black Zevon t-shirt he used to wear when we went out to dinner.
And believe me, I appreciate it every time I encounter a friend's husband whose clothes are so ill-fitting, it is clear they are either from his rugby days in college when he had some muscle, or he just grabs 5 items from the clearance rack at Sears and runs out of there before he becomes stricken with, you know, shopping cooties.
At the beginning of Alec's initiation, he bought some really beautiful shoes. Gosh. The details do it for me...a guy wearing a nice watch and stylish footwear. Yum. Well, Gay Caucus, you know what I mean. But lately, I noticed if he's not wearing Merrills, he's wearing one of his two pairs of black Bostonians. Ummm, what happened? Did you get distracted by some other poor straight guy who doesn't know how to dress himself? Come on...we're so close!
Of course it is
The annoying yell-y office manager in the pediatrician's office is named Adrienne. That is so perfect.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Every mom knows
...if you brag about your baby's sleep, she will suddenly refuse to. Also, her older sister will also refuse to sleep, but on alternate intervals, thus assuring no sleep for mom.
I went to bed at 12:30 AM. Lindsay awoke at 2 AM. Sleep interruption before 3 hours always hurts, but particularly after a couple of summer hummers (vodka and lemonade). Lindsay was done eating around 2:45 AM, and started falling asleep.
So Lauren stumbled into my bedroom at 3 AM. I ushered her back to bed, gave her a stuffed animal, and tucked her back in. An hour later, she was up again. "I had a bad dream," she said.
I got her a cup of water, and tucked her back in. A half hour after that, she was crying loudly from her bed. I got up, and this time I was not very patient with her and demanded she turn off the water works and go to sleep.
Lindsay awoke to eat at 5:15 AM, and then 7:45 AM. So, I think I got less than an hour of continuous sleep, and maybe 4 hours all together. Yuck.
I went to bed at 12:30 AM. Lindsay awoke at 2 AM. Sleep interruption before 3 hours always hurts, but particularly after a couple of summer hummers (vodka and lemonade). Lindsay was done eating around 2:45 AM, and started falling asleep.
So Lauren stumbled into my bedroom at 3 AM. I ushered her back to bed, gave her a stuffed animal, and tucked her back in. An hour later, she was up again. "I had a bad dream," she said.
I got her a cup of water, and tucked her back in. A half hour after that, she was crying loudly from her bed. I got up, and this time I was not very patient with her and demanded she turn off the water works and go to sleep.
Lindsay awoke to eat at 5:15 AM, and then 7:45 AM. So, I think I got less than an hour of continuous sleep, and maybe 4 hours all together. Yuck.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Not the same kid
I've really learned a lot about our parents through having kids. When we set about having them, we started with thoughts about what our parents did well and what we wouldn't want to duplicate. We hadn't considered our kids would probably have their own relationships with our parents, who were entirely different in their role as grandparents. I can be really annoyed with some member of my family over some, you know, silly thing, and Lauren will say, "Why haven't we called her? I want to tell her about my new bike."
Nanny makes a tremendous effort to compensate for the fact that the girls other grandparents are far away and we don't see them as often. She buys the girls entire store stocks worth of clothing. Whenever we meet up with them, even for something simple like lunch on a Saturday, she comes armed with dozens of presents.
At age 2, Lauren loved to watch this show about a little clown girl called Jojo's Circus. She stopped watching it about 6 months ago in favor of Dora the Explorer. Now, she likes Blue's Clues and Pinky Dinky Doo. It is admittedly even hard for me to keep up with what Lauren thinks is cool or not in any given week. Nanny bought Lauren Jojo pajamas, and was hurt that Lauren didn't make a fuss over them. Now really, when there are a dozen presents (and I am not exaggerating this point) it is difficult for Lauren to be excited about all of them...but I cannot imagine taking something personally that is fickle like which television character we like this week. She still wears the pajamas, after all. But a week later, Nanny will call and ask about the pajamas, and Lauren will say "Yeah, but I'd rather have Blue pajamas." Or she'll say, "Yeah, they're fine. But Grampie Fisher gave me a Mermaidia movie..."I really think Lauren does it because she knows it pushes Nanny's buttons. I don't think that will change until we can manage to train in some tact...
Nanny makes a tremendous effort to compensate for the fact that the girls other grandparents are far away and we don't see them as often. She buys the girls entire store stocks worth of clothing. Whenever we meet up with them, even for something simple like lunch on a Saturday, she comes armed with dozens of presents.
At age 2, Lauren loved to watch this show about a little clown girl called Jojo's Circus. She stopped watching it about 6 months ago in favor of Dora the Explorer. Now, she likes Blue's Clues and Pinky Dinky Doo. It is admittedly even hard for me to keep up with what Lauren thinks is cool or not in any given week. Nanny bought Lauren Jojo pajamas, and was hurt that Lauren didn't make a fuss over them. Now really, when there are a dozen presents (and I am not exaggerating this point) it is difficult for Lauren to be excited about all of them...but I cannot imagine taking something personally that is fickle like which television character we like this week. She still wears the pajamas, after all. But a week later, Nanny will call and ask about the pajamas, and Lauren will say "Yeah, but I'd rather have Blue pajamas." Or she'll say, "Yeah, they're fine. But Grampie Fisher gave me a Mermaidia movie..."I really think Lauren does it because she knows it pushes Nanny's buttons. I don't think that will change until we can manage to train in some tact...
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
His Ami
The last time we were in Miami, Lauren thought Alec had said, "My Ami" so she kept calling it "Your Ami" or "Daddy's Ami". Anyway, Alec is off to Miami today by way of Dayton where he spent last night. I think his meeting was actually in Youngstown...but anyway, if it's midweek, he's got to be in Miami.
We had McDonald's for dinner, followed by a shopping spree at Babies R Us. We got a lot of stuff considering we didn't actually need anything. Lauren picked out some new bath toys and a mesh bag to store them. We bought lots of new toys for Lindsay that she can rattle, have texture, or she can teethe on. The Babies R Us here has a Motherhood section, so I bought a couple new nursing tops. Considering the amount of pressure to breastfeed, it is very hard to find places that carry nursing wear.
So anyway, we had fun. We got home, gave the girls baths, got into our jammies. Lauren went to bed pretty easily. Lindsay took a nap until about 10:30 PM, and then was up until about 1 AM. She's been pretty fussy the past couple days, and hasn't pooped, so I think she's fussy because she hasn't pooped. She ate a lot, and was starting to get sleepy. I set her on the bed and went to turn down the air conditioner. She started fussing, so I was walking kind of fast and brought the ball of my foot down hard on an exposed nail in the floorboard. I scooped her up, and turned over my foot to see it was cut and bleeding. Of course, it was a good ten minutes before she was done eating and I could attend to it. Yuck. Because it's on the ball of my left foot, it burns when I step, which is nasty and annoying. I cleaned it, bandaged it, and went to sleep.
Lindsay actually slept until almost 7, which was a great treat...and although she didn't poop, she woke up in a great mood and was smiling a whole lot and laughing. I changed her diaper, fed her, and she fell back to sleep 45 minutes later.
Lauren was up at 8:15, which was pretty much right when I started falling back to sleep. Ah well. But as she climbed up for her morning snuggle, I noticed her eye was all puffy. Oh geez, she had hives on her face again. So we went downstairs and got her some Zyrtec.
So we're doing okay while Alec is away. We've even come up with some new nicknames: Full of Poo (we're not encouraging the use of the S word since Lauren learned to conjugate both that and the F bomb when she was 2), Hop Along, and Squinty.
We had McDonald's for dinner, followed by a shopping spree at Babies R Us. We got a lot of stuff considering we didn't actually need anything. Lauren picked out some new bath toys and a mesh bag to store them. We bought lots of new toys for Lindsay that she can rattle, have texture, or she can teethe on. The Babies R Us here has a Motherhood section, so I bought a couple new nursing tops. Considering the amount of pressure to breastfeed, it is very hard to find places that carry nursing wear.
So anyway, we had fun. We got home, gave the girls baths, got into our jammies. Lauren went to bed pretty easily. Lindsay took a nap until about 10:30 PM, and then was up until about 1 AM. She's been pretty fussy the past couple days, and hasn't pooped, so I think she's fussy because she hasn't pooped. She ate a lot, and was starting to get sleepy. I set her on the bed and went to turn down the air conditioner. She started fussing, so I was walking kind of fast and brought the ball of my foot down hard on an exposed nail in the floorboard. I scooped her up, and turned over my foot to see it was cut and bleeding. Of course, it was a good ten minutes before she was done eating and I could attend to it. Yuck. Because it's on the ball of my left foot, it burns when I step, which is nasty and annoying. I cleaned it, bandaged it, and went to sleep.
Lindsay actually slept until almost 7, which was a great treat...and although she didn't poop, she woke up in a great mood and was smiling a whole lot and laughing. I changed her diaper, fed her, and she fell back to sleep 45 minutes later.
Lauren was up at 8:15, which was pretty much right when I started falling back to sleep. Ah well. But as she climbed up for her morning snuggle, I noticed her eye was all puffy. Oh geez, she had hives on her face again. So we went downstairs and got her some Zyrtec.
So we're doing okay while Alec is away. We've even come up with some new nicknames: Full of Poo (we're not encouraging the use of the S word since Lauren learned to conjugate both that and the F bomb when she was 2), Hop Along, and Squinty.
Monday, July 10, 2006
A thank you (and the girls plan a shopping trip)
Our postman left us with a fat envelope today, some baby presents from my friend Mark.
Lauren tore open her own card, and contemplated its contents. "I can buy things from the store with that?" She held up the Pottery Barn Kids gift certificates.
"Yep. The store where we got Lindsay's lamps."
"The one where they have the big dollhouse?"
Hmm. Wonder what she's going to get there...
Lindsay, on the otherhand, was not so enthusiastic about shopping. She didn't even lift her head from the little puddle of sleepy drool...yeah, I know back to sleep. Kid always falls asleep during tummytime. I don't wake the sleeping baby.
It was funny, because I was thinking today about the toys Lauren had at Mark's office. Her favorite, and also, by far the most annoying, was this Baby Einstein orchestra that played 5 different Mozart pieces in 4 part harmony. When you removed each animal piece, its part stopped playing. It had on, soft, and loud settings. I was thinking it was sad we don't still have the toy, and wondered if Babies R Us had it...well, now we have the gift cards so I'm sure we can stock up on toys to annoy while I try to work.
Lauren tore open her own card, and contemplated its contents. "I can buy things from the store with that?" She held up the Pottery Barn Kids gift certificates.
"Yep. The store where we got Lindsay's lamps.""The one where they have the big dollhouse?"
Hmm. Wonder what she's going to get there...
Lindsay, on the otherhand, was not so enthusiastic about shopping. She didn't even lift her head from the little puddle of sleepy drool...yeah, I know back to sleep. Kid always falls asleep during tummytime. I don't wake the sleeping baby.
It was funny, because I was thinking today about the toys Lauren had at Mark's office. Her favorite, and also, by far the most annoying, was this Baby Einstein orchestra that played 5 different Mozart pieces in 4 part harmony. When you removed each animal piece, its part stopped playing. It had on, soft, and loud settings. I was thinking it was sad we don't still have the toy, and wondered if Babies R Us had it...well, now we have the gift cards so I'm sure we can stock up on toys to annoy while I try to work.
I love summertime
I was unloading the dishwasher this morning from last's night's barbeque, and realized how much I love the summertime. Because, really, parties in the summer are SO easy.
We have a smallish round table in our backyard, but plenty of chairs. We bought a half dozen aluminum chairs at a garage sale for $10, which added to our chairs that match our wicker and glass table, and the 2 plastic chairs that came with the house. Ample seating. Much better than in the house. We staged the meal buffet style inside where I have plenty of serving dishes and utensils, but ate outside on Chinet with plasticware, thus getting away from the pitiful remains of my Pfaltzgraff I haven't replaced, or that my great-grandmother's flatware set is 8 rather than 12. Besides grill fare, the sides in the summer are easy because you can either go with prepared salads like potato or macaroni, or a variety of steamed fresh produce. We chose corn on the cob and steamed green beans in a vinegar dressing.
And I finally got to meet Jessie, Alec's friend from commuting. She and her husband Nick dropped off their 17-month old son, Jack, on their way to contract signing on their new house. Chris and Karen arrived with their boys about an hour later. Ross was great at entertaining the group, particularly little Jack. When Nick and Jessie returned, Ross was leading a race from either end of the driveway with Lauren and Lars on bikes, and he pushed Jack in the Little Tykes car. We settled around the table with beer as Alec grilled us up some burgers (both beef and turkey), tofu, hotdogs, and sausage. We sat outside even as it got dark...and didn't come in until Jessie and Nick took Jack home around 9:30 or so. We came in to supervise the living room clean up, but ended up chatting until after 11.
We have a smallish round table in our backyard, but plenty of chairs. We bought a half dozen aluminum chairs at a garage sale for $10, which added to our chairs that match our wicker and glass table, and the 2 plastic chairs that came with the house. Ample seating. Much better than in the house. We staged the meal buffet style inside where I have plenty of serving dishes and utensils, but ate outside on Chinet with plasticware, thus getting away from the pitiful remains of my Pfaltzgraff I haven't replaced, or that my great-grandmother's flatware set is 8 rather than 12. Besides grill fare, the sides in the summer are easy because you can either go with prepared salads like potato or macaroni, or a variety of steamed fresh produce. We chose corn on the cob and steamed green beans in a vinegar dressing.
And I finally got to meet Jessie, Alec's friend from commuting. She and her husband Nick dropped off their 17-month old son, Jack, on their way to contract signing on their new house. Chris and Karen arrived with their boys about an hour later. Ross was great at entertaining the group, particularly little Jack. When Nick and Jessie returned, Ross was leading a race from either end of the driveway with Lauren and Lars on bikes, and he pushed Jack in the Little Tykes car. We settled around the table with beer as Alec grilled us up some burgers (both beef and turkey), tofu, hotdogs, and sausage. We sat outside even as it got dark...and didn't come in until Jessie and Nick took Jack home around 9:30 or so. We came in to supervise the living room clean up, but ended up chatting until after 11.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
And finally, the movie!
I took Lauren to see Cars today...y'know, as reward for putting a bead in her ear and making me flunk my computation test? John was right. It was awesome. It was a little long, and a little heavy on plot for the 3 1/2 year old set (John's son Evan is 13 months older than Lauren), but when it comes to animation, Pixar isn't even in the same league as the rest.
As we walked together with our itty bitty bag of popcorn, 2 swallows of diet coke, and the largest package of Reese Pieces ever to the very last tiniest theater in the movie house, we passed about a half dozen other pictures. Wow, I really want to see that one...ooh. That one too. Oooh, and well, I guess I can wait until that one is on cable...probably want to read the book first anyway. I think I need to get out more...
Lauren and I talked about how we have so much time together when she doesn't draw on the windows with Chapstick, and I told her I was proud of her for being a big girl...and that we have to work on listening better and being more polite. She grinned from her seat. "Of course, Mom," she said sweetly, "I will try my best."
As we walked together with our itty bitty bag of popcorn, 2 swallows of diet coke, and the largest package of Reese Pieces ever to the very last tiniest theater in the movie house, we passed about a half dozen other pictures. Wow, I really want to see that one...ooh. That one too. Oooh, and well, I guess I can wait until that one is on cable...probably want to read the book first anyway. I think I need to get out more...
Lauren and I talked about how we have so much time together when she doesn't draw on the windows with Chapstick, and I told her I was proud of her for being a big girl...and that we have to work on listening better and being more polite. She grinned from her seat. "Of course, Mom," she said sweetly, "I will try my best."
Bigger questions
There was placement testing at Rutgers today. From 9-11 AM, there were English placement tests, and from 12-2PM there were math tests. I was early for the English test. Contrary to the online instructions, it wasn't a 90-minute multiple choice on reading comprehension followed by a 20 minute essay period, it was just an essay. There was a page excerpted from a source about how Americans no longer have a sense of a national community, and that this was either because we now belong to a global community, or we cannot relate to an issue, such as poverty, inequality, or racism, unless we have a living example. I spent about an hour writing the essay and a half hour reading and editing it. I think it turned out OK.
So then I went home. The College Avenue campus is about 3 minutes from my house, and it seemed silly to lock myself in a bathroom stall to use my pump. So I went home to use the pump, have some lunch, and decompress a little. I thought I'd leave around 11:40 PM, so I would have plenty of time to get ready for the math test.
Around 11:30, Lauren announced that she'd put a bead in her ear. With a sleeping Lindsay in tow, Alec called the ped's emergency number while I took a screaming Lauren upstairs to get her dressed. By the time I came down, Dr Biener had called Alec back, and told him to bring Lauren into the office. He handed off Lindsay, who instantly woke up and demanded to be changed and fed. About 40 minutes later, Alec returned with Lauren, sans bead. I handed him back a needing to be burped Lindsay, hopped into the car as Lauren proudly showed off a sticker from the doctor. "He gave her a sticker for putting a bead in her ear?" I hissed at Alec, as he opened the door for her. "No, for being a good girl while he removed it. It was pretty traumatic."
With that, I sped out of the driveway and headed back to school. I raced up the stairs into the lecture hall. The proctor handed me a bubble answer sheet (you remember them from the SATs) and a question booklet. I sat down and started working out the computation section which said "You have 30 minutes to answer the following 35 questions." Since the proctor said nothing, I thought, well maybe it's not that formal. I raced through as many as I could do, but still only completed about 15 questions. Then the next section, the algebra section, was 30 minutes for 40 questions. Since I have spent the last 2 weeks studying algebra, I felt I did pretty well. There were a few problems I struggled with, and a couple I simply guessed because I didn't know the process (I only got through Chapter 6), but overall, I feel like it wasn't too bad. The third segment instructions said "do not proceed if you haven't taken a high school course in precalculus", so I turned in my test and left.
I was frustrated because I surely didn't pass computation since I only completed about half of the questions. Hopefully, I can talk to my advisor and get permission to retake the first test. I think I did alright on the second test, probably better than I will do in a month's time anyway, so I'd rather not retake the whole thing if I don't have to. I guess we'll see how it goes. I don't know what I should've done instead. If I'd known it was a timed test like that, I wouldn't have bothered to return.
But is the bigger problem is, can I really commit to doing this? I know I want to. Am I just setting myself up to be derailed whenever things at home get a little difficult? I got angry with Alec when I got home, but it wasn't his fault. I didn't offer a solution that got me to my test and Lauren to the doctor...surely he could've dropped me off and handled them both in the office because that's what I would've done if he was at work. That's what he would've done had I not come home between the tests. I guess the answer is, we did the best we could, and in hindsight there are always better solutions and I shouldn't take this one instance as an indictment on my academic future.
So then I went home. The College Avenue campus is about 3 minutes from my house, and it seemed silly to lock myself in a bathroom stall to use my pump. So I went home to use the pump, have some lunch, and decompress a little. I thought I'd leave around 11:40 PM, so I would have plenty of time to get ready for the math test.
Around 11:30, Lauren announced that she'd put a bead in her ear. With a sleeping Lindsay in tow, Alec called the ped's emergency number while I took a screaming Lauren upstairs to get her dressed. By the time I came down, Dr Biener had called Alec back, and told him to bring Lauren into the office. He handed off Lindsay, who instantly woke up and demanded to be changed and fed. About 40 minutes later, Alec returned with Lauren, sans bead. I handed him back a needing to be burped Lindsay, hopped into the car as Lauren proudly showed off a sticker from the doctor. "He gave her a sticker for putting a bead in her ear?" I hissed at Alec, as he opened the door for her. "No, for being a good girl while he removed it. It was pretty traumatic."
With that, I sped out of the driveway and headed back to school. I raced up the stairs into the lecture hall. The proctor handed me a bubble answer sheet (you remember them from the SATs) and a question booklet. I sat down and started working out the computation section which said "You have 30 minutes to answer the following 35 questions." Since the proctor said nothing, I thought, well maybe it's not that formal. I raced through as many as I could do, but still only completed about 15 questions. Then the next section, the algebra section, was 30 minutes for 40 questions. Since I have spent the last 2 weeks studying algebra, I felt I did pretty well. There were a few problems I struggled with, and a couple I simply guessed because I didn't know the process (I only got through Chapter 6), but overall, I feel like it wasn't too bad. The third segment instructions said "do not proceed if you haven't taken a high school course in precalculus", so I turned in my test and left.
I was frustrated because I surely didn't pass computation since I only completed about half of the questions. Hopefully, I can talk to my advisor and get permission to retake the first test. I think I did alright on the second test, probably better than I will do in a month's time anyway, so I'd rather not retake the whole thing if I don't have to. I guess we'll see how it goes. I don't know what I should've done instead. If I'd known it was a timed test like that, I wouldn't have bothered to return.
But is the bigger problem is, can I really commit to doing this? I know I want to. Am I just setting myself up to be derailed whenever things at home get a little difficult? I got angry with Alec when I got home, but it wasn't his fault. I didn't offer a solution that got me to my test and Lauren to the doctor...surely he could've dropped me off and handled them both in the office because that's what I would've done if he was at work. That's what he would've done had I not come home between the tests. I guess the answer is, we did the best we could, and in hindsight there are always better solutions and I shouldn't take this one instance as an indictment on my academic future.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Good day sunshine
Really, how bad can your day be when you wake up with a smiling baby on your chest. A few minutes later, Lauren bounds into the room, jumps up on the bed, and cuddles up on your other side and tells you her baby feet call your feet Mama.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Let's pretend
"Let's pretend I'm a cat named Stinky Pig."
"A cat?!"
"Yes."
"Named Stinky Pig?"
"No. Skinny Pig."
"Oh. That makes a lot more sense."
"A cat?!"
"Yes."
"Named Stinky Pig?"
"No. Skinny Pig."
"Oh. That makes a lot more sense."
Ouch
Losing a baby leaves a sharp edge that I'll nudge up against unexpectedly and suddenly find pain. I've lost two. The first was 5 years ago, and the second was almost exactly a year ago. The upcoming anniversary has me feeling a little raw.
I had to write a letter today to our insurance company explaining why an ambulance was called a year ago. That was sort of upsetting also.
But the sharp edge that snuck up on me was an innocuous blog my dad made fun of while he was writing about silly blogs. It was the picture of her ovulation chart that struck me. The little form she uses to write week by week about new symptoms.
In February 2001, I downloaded freeware for charting ovulation. I took my temperature every day and entered it into the software...it even had a little smiley icon to indicate the days you have sex and what the chance of conceiving for that particular event based on where it predicted you were in your cycle. On April 28th, the software remarked that my basal temperature had been elevated 18 days and that it predicted I was pregnant, which a EPT confirmed with the faintest pink line. Two days later, I started bleeding and called my gynecologist in a panic. It took nearly a month for a diagnosis. Tests of increasing amounts of pain. Finally, 5 weeks later...that is 5 weeks of pregnancy symptoms knowing that this wasn't going to result in the child we'd hoped for...she diagnosed the ectopic pregnancy. I was given a shot of methotrexate. At my followup appointment, she prescribed another painful test that I had to wait 3 months to take. The result of the hysterosalpingogram (HSG) was that there was no blockage found in my tube.
But as we tried again, all of that excitement that Angela writes about in her blog had been wrung out of me. The beginning of the 3 pregnancies after that first one were a call to the doctor and then bloodtests every 48 hours where we watched, wondered, and waited with our breath held.
It was a nerve-wrecking process.
A year ago, I had just gone off the Pill, and called my obgyn to ask her if I should be alarmed that I had been spotting for 4 weeks. "Well, are you pregnant?" Huh. Well, that thought hadn't occurred to me. She took my stunned silence as an emphatic maybe. "Because, with your history, I would be alarmed if you told me you were pregnant and spotting since that was your symptom last time." I saw her the next day, and she said the same thing my gynecologist had said 4 years earlier, that all we could do was wait 48 hours and do another test. It wasn't to be. Forty hours later, I was in the emergency room trying to listen to a doctor telling me what I already knew. That worse-case scenerio. It had happened again. But this time, I needed surgery.
The path that has brought me here has been full of potholes and dark alleys. Some days I feel really blessed. Days like today I wonder if God, like us mortal parents, sometimes gets distracted. If so, I'd really appreciate whatever the karmic equivalent is of getting to eat ice cream for dinner and staying up way past my bedtime...
I had to write a letter today to our insurance company explaining why an ambulance was called a year ago. That was sort of upsetting also.
But the sharp edge that snuck up on me was an innocuous blog my dad made fun of while he was writing about silly blogs. It was the picture of her ovulation chart that struck me. The little form she uses to write week by week about new symptoms.
In February 2001, I downloaded freeware for charting ovulation. I took my temperature every day and entered it into the software...it even had a little smiley icon to indicate the days you have sex and what the chance of conceiving for that particular event based on where it predicted you were in your cycle. On April 28th, the software remarked that my basal temperature had been elevated 18 days and that it predicted I was pregnant, which a EPT confirmed with the faintest pink line. Two days later, I started bleeding and called my gynecologist in a panic. It took nearly a month for a diagnosis. Tests of increasing amounts of pain. Finally, 5 weeks later...that is 5 weeks of pregnancy symptoms knowing that this wasn't going to result in the child we'd hoped for...she diagnosed the ectopic pregnancy. I was given a shot of methotrexate. At my followup appointment, she prescribed another painful test that I had to wait 3 months to take. The result of the hysterosalpingogram (HSG) was that there was no blockage found in my tube.
But as we tried again, all of that excitement that Angela writes about in her blog had been wrung out of me. The beginning of the 3 pregnancies after that first one were a call to the doctor and then bloodtests every 48 hours where we watched, wondered, and waited with our breath held.
It was a nerve-wrecking process.
A year ago, I had just gone off the Pill, and called my obgyn to ask her if I should be alarmed that I had been spotting for 4 weeks. "Well, are you pregnant?" Huh. Well, that thought hadn't occurred to me. She took my stunned silence as an emphatic maybe. "Because, with your history, I would be alarmed if you told me you were pregnant and spotting since that was your symptom last time." I saw her the next day, and she said the same thing my gynecologist had said 4 years earlier, that all we could do was wait 48 hours and do another test. It wasn't to be. Forty hours later, I was in the emergency room trying to listen to a doctor telling me what I already knew. That worse-case scenerio. It had happened again. But this time, I needed surgery.
The path that has brought me here has been full of potholes and dark alleys. Some days I feel really blessed. Days like today I wonder if God, like us mortal parents, sometimes gets distracted. If so, I'd really appreciate whatever the karmic equivalent is of getting to eat ice cream for dinner and staying up way past my bedtime...
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Tummytime lessons
Although she hated tummytime herself, Lauren shows Lindsay how it's done. Lindsay likes being on her tummy, and usually falls asleep.
Just another word for nothing left to lose
I've always loved the summer holidays. In my childhood, they were filled with pool parties and barbeques. A lot of the summer was spent at Gramma Jean's pool. The parties there were always well attended, and included throngs of my aunt Diane's college friends who were facinated by us, not having kids of their own. They were fun and up for endless games of Marco Polo, pool volleyball, and refereed diving contests after we'd long since tired out our own relatives.
I thought about this yesterday as we had a group of friends over for a barbeque yesterday, that our friends are sort of fascinated by our kids. Lauren enlisted Jon's (and then Adam's) help filling her moat in her sandbox. During the fireworks, she nestled in Sybil's lap, hands over ears, to watch the fireworks (though this had a lot to do with Lindsay just having spent some time on Sybil's shoulder). Yeah, I was that parent yesterday that people clicked their tongues at as they walked by Lindsay (mostly falling out of) her Kelty carrier. (Chris, I need another tutorial!) But Lindsay, the chill baby, drank her bottle and then fell asleep during the fireworks. Lauren whined a lot before they started, because she was tired and hot, and as she commented this morning, the fireworks were too late and too loud.
I thought about this yesterday as we had a group of friends over for a barbeque yesterday, that our friends are sort of fascinated by our kids. Lauren enlisted Jon's (and then Adam's) help filling her moat in her sandbox. During the fireworks, she nestled in Sybil's lap, hands over ears, to watch the fireworks (though this had a lot to do with Lindsay just having spent some time on Sybil's shoulder). Yeah, I was that parent yesterday that people clicked their tongues at as they walked by Lindsay (mostly falling out of) her Kelty carrier. (Chris, I need another tutorial!) But Lindsay, the chill baby, drank her bottle and then fell asleep during the fireworks. Lauren whined a lot before they started, because she was tired and hot, and as she commented this morning, the fireworks were too late and too loud.
Monday, July 03, 2006
Hold the figs, please
"So what are we having for dessert?" Lauren asked.
"How about a cookie?" I offered.
"Is it a chocolate chip cookie?"
"No. It's a fig cookie."
She waited for the joke. "Fig?!"
"Yes. They are Fig Newtons."
"Eeeeeewww. That's disgusting."
"How about a cookie?" I offered.
"Is it a chocolate chip cookie?"
"No. It's a fig cookie."
She waited for the joke. "Fig?!"
"Yes. They are Fig Newtons."
"Eeeeeewww. That's disgusting."
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Meat Aid '06
I can't take credit for the term. Props go to Bibliofilly.
Thanks to Lars, Karen and Chris' younger son, we're participating in Meat Aid '06. Lars left the freezer door ajar 2 days before the family was to leave on a week long vacation, so we've acquired the thawed contents of their freezer - pounds of chicken, pork, and sausage. We're also maple syrup sitting for a gallon jug.
Alec took the first bag of pork chops last night and made this unbelievably delicious apple, walnut, and scotch sauce for the seared chops. Now, nearly anything cooked in our 12 inch cast iron lodge skillet is yummy, but this was just awesome.
Tonight, we used a bottle of apple rosemary dill marinade (my mom had made Alec a birthday gift of several grill friendly sauces and marinades from Williams Sonoma) to treat the remaining 3 pork chops and several boneless chicken breasts. Alec grilled several ears of corn (and if you haven't grilled corn on the cob before, it's awesome...we prefer without the husk because it tastes a little grassy otherwise) and served it along with some store bought red potato salad.
I am eyeing the pound of sage sausage to hash up with some potatoes and eggs for tomorrow's breakfast.
It's like being on Iron Chef! Who knew other people's freezers could be such fun?
In other news Chez Stoll, we finally have back our Malibu Maxx about $1300 and several wheel parts later.
Thanks to Lars, Karen and Chris' younger son, we're participating in Meat Aid '06. Lars left the freezer door ajar 2 days before the family was to leave on a week long vacation, so we've acquired the thawed contents of their freezer - pounds of chicken, pork, and sausage. We're also maple syrup sitting for a gallon jug.
Alec took the first bag of pork chops last night and made this unbelievably delicious apple, walnut, and scotch sauce for the seared chops. Now, nearly anything cooked in our 12 inch cast iron lodge skillet is yummy, but this was just awesome.
Tonight, we used a bottle of apple rosemary dill marinade (my mom had made Alec a birthday gift of several grill friendly sauces and marinades from Williams Sonoma) to treat the remaining 3 pork chops and several boneless chicken breasts. Alec grilled several ears of corn (and if you haven't grilled corn on the cob before, it's awesome...we prefer without the husk because it tastes a little grassy otherwise) and served it along with some store bought red potato salad.
I am eyeing the pound of sage sausage to hash up with some potatoes and eggs for tomorrow's breakfast.
It's like being on Iron Chef! Who knew other people's freezers could be such fun?
In other news Chez Stoll, we finally have back our Malibu Maxx about $1300 and several wheel parts later.
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