Yeah. Those are his hip bones.
And he's such a good dog.
Why? Who could do this to such a lovey sweet boy?
I hate people.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
We Have a Houseguest.
And he has the most lethal farts I've ever suffered.
Kate and I had a lovely day together yesterday, fighting torrential rains and 37-degree F weather (because, it couldn't get 5 degrees colder and give us a slightly less soggy and more enjoyable experience) in order to finish up some Christmas shopping.
At one point she mentioned that between hanging out with us and her new boyfriend and trying to stay with friends in the city where she's working so that she has transportation to work... she hadn't been back to her pied-a-terre in about a week. She wanted to check on a former roommate's dog, because when he was evicted he just abandoned the poor thing. SO we grabbed a bag of dog food and headed over there.
When we got there, it was clear the dog had not been fed since she was last home.
Jackson the two-year-old black Lab was in such poor condition that he could barely walk. His ribs, spine, and hip bones are all clearly delineated, and his eyes were so red and rheumy that I thought he had an eye infection. He limps and favors his front right paw; I wonder if he was so weak and disoriented from his emaciation that he fell on it and sprained it. It's not broken or fractured, thank goodness. Without thinking about it, I told Kate to bring him to the car. He could barely walk there, and Kate had to lift him up into the back seat. When he got inside, he could barely sit by himself.
All the way home I kept thinking, "The only thing that will keep Ivan from killing me is to throw myself on his mercy." So I did.
And my wonderful, patient, non-dog-loving husband did not let me down.
I'm seriously still shaking and every time I think about this, I cry. You should have heard me on the phone with the animal hospital earlier. I could barely get the words out. The "golden voice" was wobbly and cracked every sentence. I couldn't sleep last night because I wasn't sure he was going to make it through the night. I fed him at 3 AM just to be on the safe side.
The good news is that today he is looking so much better. His eyes are clear and no longer weeping. He hasn't lost any hair. He is much more active and alert. The vet thinks he needs another week or two of rest and gentle convalescence before we try to get him placed, but feels that he should be able to make a full recovery.
And my knight in shining armor played tug-of-war with him today. To watch Jackson's tail wag is to brim over with tears yet again. To see him curled up by Ivan's chair is to realize how much I love my gentle, protective husband, whose qualities an abandoned and hopeful dog can see and feel.
And when Jackson farts, all Ivan says is, "Good God, dude..."
I don't think I can love that man more than right now.
Kate and I had a lovely day together yesterday, fighting torrential rains and 37-degree F weather (because, it couldn't get 5 degrees colder and give us a slightly less soggy and more enjoyable experience) in order to finish up some Christmas shopping.
At one point she mentioned that between hanging out with us and her new boyfriend and trying to stay with friends in the city where she's working so that she has transportation to work... she hadn't been back to her pied-a-terre in about a week. She wanted to check on a former roommate's dog, because when he was evicted he just abandoned the poor thing. SO we grabbed a bag of dog food and headed over there.
When we got there, it was clear the dog had not been fed since she was last home.
Jackson the two-year-old black Lab was in such poor condition that he could barely walk. His ribs, spine, and hip bones are all clearly delineated, and his eyes were so red and rheumy that I thought he had an eye infection. He limps and favors his front right paw; I wonder if he was so weak and disoriented from his emaciation that he fell on it and sprained it. It's not broken or fractured, thank goodness. Without thinking about it, I told Kate to bring him to the car. He could barely walk there, and Kate had to lift him up into the back seat. When he got inside, he could barely sit by himself.
All the way home I kept thinking, "The only thing that will keep Ivan from killing me is to throw myself on his mercy." So I did.
And my wonderful, patient, non-dog-loving husband did not let me down.
I'm seriously still shaking and every time I think about this, I cry. You should have heard me on the phone with the animal hospital earlier. I could barely get the words out. The "golden voice" was wobbly and cracked every sentence. I couldn't sleep last night because I wasn't sure he was going to make it through the night. I fed him at 3 AM just to be on the safe side.
The good news is that today he is looking so much better. His eyes are clear and no longer weeping. He hasn't lost any hair. He is much more active and alert. The vet thinks he needs another week or two of rest and gentle convalescence before we try to get him placed, but feels that he should be able to make a full recovery.
And my knight in shining armor played tug-of-war with him today. To watch Jackson's tail wag is to brim over with tears yet again. To see him curled up by Ivan's chair is to realize how much I love my gentle, protective husband, whose qualities an abandoned and hopeful dog can see and feel.
And when Jackson farts, all Ivan says is, "Good God, dude..."
I don't think I can love that man more than right now.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Dear Bissell, You Need To Hire Me.
Firstly, I'd like to congratulate you on a product that is sturdy enough to live through the twin challenges of over-abundant pet hair and indifferent carpet cleaners - to whit, my daughters. While they have performed the spirit of the thing, their methods have been lackadaisical at best and when coupled with the aforementioned pet hair, have created the need for me field-stripping the machine. For the most part, a general rinsing is fine, but join me here.
Picture, if you will, a Siberian Husky. Here, I'll help.
Typically our Bissell performs superlatively. I'm always happy with the results. Now, that being said, I will admit that there are several areas on your product with which I have great complaint. These are, notably, areas in which pet hair and other detritus can and will get clogged.
I understand that the owner's manual distinctly states, "Vacuum surface thoroughly before using this machine." I know. And I also know that you bear no responsibility for the continued operation of my machine if I don't follow the directions.
But c'mon. We're both people of the world. We know it's not a perfect place. And in this case, directions most certainly were not followed, resulting in this...
And there's plenty more where that came from... in the main tank compartment, in the brushes, and anywhere else into which dog hair can protrude its doggy hairiness.
Most of the hair is fairly easy to clean out but there are some areas that are problematic, like...
You will note that the aperture through which to enter and clean out the dog hair is... noticeably smaller than my fingers.
And hence, I am led to the real tangent of this letter.
Now, once again, I realize you are not responsible for saving me from my stupidity. But surely I'm not the only person who has either had their lackeys fail them or suffered a momentary lapse of judgment. And do you really want to punish us so heinously for our sins?
So, being the ingenious crafty type I am, and having many years of experience in repurposing common tools for uncommon purposes (the number of uses I have for a butter knife should be legendary), I have found a tool that I consider invaluable in cleaning this machine... and I believe you should include one with each unit sold.
It's inexpensive, hardy, and practically foolproof. It is... the common citrus peeler:
Please note the slim shape of the poky end (you may wish to have one of your writers revise my technical vocabulary as it may be too advanced for typical consumers). The fact that the poky end is also curved is an added bonus for cleaning the part in question. It's perfect for digging into the aperture above:
As you can see, the machine has been restored to almost new condition. And I would love to tell you that it works beautifully, but I somehow melted the bladder when I was pouring in hot water which I'd heated... to below boiling, I swear... on the stove. You may note my request for a replacement part arriving soon.
In conclusion, please consider the foibles of we mere mortals. Save us from our folly with either a completely disassemble-able machine, or an appropriate cleaning tool.
And recognize my brilliance and ingenuity by giving me a position in your R&D or testing facility. Either that, or send me royalty checks against the day when, unarmed with my know-how and secret weapon, large swarms of people will be forced to replace their carpet cleaners - or I'll find a way to get the word out and squash all that lovely revenue.
With love,
A Loyal Customer
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
How Long Is That In Dog Years?
Yesterday I hit 22 weeks of pregnancy, which is both longer and shorter than it sounds. I feel like I can't remember not being pregnant, and yet April seems pretty far away. Even though it's only four and a half months.
Trying to remember how pregnant I am isn't easy, either. There's this weird thing that happens to months when you're pregnant.
Someone on the birth forums of which I am a part said that she was 6 months pregnant. Now, her due date is after mine. So I questioned this. She said, "Learn to count;
1-4 weeks is month one,
5-8 weeks is month two,
9-12 weeks is month three,
13-16 weeks is month four,
17-20 weeks is month five,
21-24 weeks is month six,
25-28 weeks is month seven,
29-32 weeks is month eight,
33-36 weeks is month nine."
I said, "I can do math, too. 22/4 = 5.5 months pregnant."
But apparently it doesn't work that way, which is why I always feel cheated out of that tenth month for which I do not get credit.
Because 37 - 40 weeks is month ten, darnit... and I have never gone under 40 weeks.
Mama is willing to buy lots of Matchboxes for the kiddo that breaks the streak... just sayin'.
Trying to remember how pregnant I am isn't easy, either. There's this weird thing that happens to months when you're pregnant.
Someone on the birth forums of which I am a part said that she was 6 months pregnant. Now, her due date is after mine. So I questioned this. She said, "Learn to count;
1-4 weeks is month one,
5-8 weeks is month two,
9-12 weeks is month three,
13-16 weeks is month four,
17-20 weeks is month five,
21-24 weeks is month six,
25-28 weeks is month seven,
29-32 weeks is month eight,
33-36 weeks is month nine."
I said, "I can do math, too. 22/4 = 5.5 months pregnant."
But apparently it doesn't work that way, which is why I always feel cheated out of that tenth month for which I do not get credit.
Because 37 - 40 weeks is month ten, darnit... and I have never gone under 40 weeks.
Mama is willing to buy lots of Matchboxes for the kiddo that breaks the streak... just sayin'.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Two Weeks Makes Big Differences.
It's crazy. Before the big anatomy ultrasound, the baby wasn't moving around much at all. Now, I feel him throughout the day.
Mostly, it's just little movements, like he's fluttering around, getting his thumb in his mouth, yawning, what have you. But every now and then I'll feel a big kick. It always surprises me and makes me say, "Oh!" I don't know why.
I was on my stomach on the bed and it felt like he was pushing back, saying, "Hey, Mom! Getoff me!"
Last night, Ivan was singing to him, and had his hand right where the kiddo was tucked up... and he got to feel a push back.
Amazing thing.
Mostly, it's just little movements, like he's fluttering around, getting his thumb in his mouth, yawning, what have you. But every now and then I'll feel a big kick. It always surprises me and makes me say, "Oh!" I don't know why.
I was on my stomach on the bed and it felt like he was pushing back, saying, "Hey, Mom! Getoff me!"
Last night, Ivan was singing to him, and had his hand right where the kiddo was tucked up... and he got to feel a push back.
Amazing thing.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Halfway There, And Ivan Is Right Again.
Yes, we hit 19 weeks last week, which is technically halfway through the assumed 38-week gestation period. Both Kate and Savannah went over by 2 weeks each; let's see if Scary Baby will be doing the same.
And speaking of Scary Baby, I think it's time for a renaming... to Stubborn Baby. But let me start at the beginning.
On Friday - Ivan's birthday - we had our extra-special super-duper high-resolution ultrasound, which showed EVERYTHING. One of the first things our tech said, however, was, "Oh good... looks like your placenta previa has healed and your placenta has moved up nicely." Placenta Previa? Gee, is this why I had some unexplained vaginal bleeding last trimester? For which I intuitively put myself on bed rest? Okay, I'm glad it's healed, but I would have liked to know about it, since placenta previa isn't terribly dangerous... unless you have vaginal bleeding... anyway, not to dwell on it; the placenta has moved out of the way, and Kiddo is currently head down and was resting his toes on it.
Back to the scan! We saw four chambers in the heart, lips (no cleft palate), nicely forming brain, kidneys, bladder, and stomach all where they belong on the inside, and even got a picture of Kiddo yawning:
Not yawning, profile... nose is so cute:
Yawning (baby apparently does not like morning, kinda like Daddy and big sisters):
Then we got a nice look at the spine, of which I'd have loved to have a picture, since it was so neat to see something so recognizable in such miniature. Now, all this time, Stubborn Baby was turning away from the ultrasound probe at every possible chance, so the tech had to really jiggle my belly around to get ... the money shot...
And speaking of Scary Baby, I think it's time for a renaming... to Stubborn Baby. But let me start at the beginning.
On Friday - Ivan's birthday - we had our extra-special super-duper high-resolution ultrasound, which showed EVERYTHING. One of the first things our tech said, however, was, "Oh good... looks like your placenta previa has healed and your placenta has moved up nicely." Placenta Previa? Gee, is this why I had some unexplained vaginal bleeding last trimester? For which I intuitively put myself on bed rest? Okay, I'm glad it's healed, but I would have liked to know about it, since placenta previa isn't terribly dangerous... unless you have vaginal bleeding... anyway, not to dwell on it; the placenta has moved out of the way, and Kiddo is currently head down and was resting his toes on it.
Back to the scan! We saw four chambers in the heart, lips (no cleft palate), nicely forming brain, kidneys, bladder, and stomach all where they belong on the inside, and even got a picture of Kiddo yawning:
Not yawning, profile... nose is so cute:
Yawning (baby apparently does not like morning, kinda like Daddy and big sisters):
Then we got a nice look at the spine, of which I'd have loved to have a picture, since it was so neat to see something so recognizable in such miniature. Now, all this time, Stubborn Baby was turning away from the ultrasound probe at every possible chance, so the tech had to really jiggle my belly around to get ... the money shot...
And for an even better (closer) view...
Yep, that's a boy, alright... the tech said everything except "I bet my life on that sucker being boy parts." She was very definite.
And so, Scary Baby - Stubborn Baby - is now... Baby Ivan. I cried. A son. We have a son! His big sisters are ecstatic and his daddy is smug. How's that for a birthday present?
Baby Ivan was still scary this time, though... he kept hiding his umbilical cord from the tech, and she could only count 2 blood vessels in the cord. Normally, there is one vein providing nutrients and oxygen to the baby, and two arteries taking waste products away from the baby and back to the placenta. When there aren't the right number of vessels, it tends to indicate congenital defects such as chromosomal anomalies.
Unfortunately, the techs aren't allowed to share that information with the patient - they have to go get the doctor who will review the scan and then inform the parents. Also unfortunately, techs are human, and sometimes not very good about hiding their concerns from the parents. I think it's sad that they can't even say, "I'm not seeing something I was looking for, so I'll go get the doctor," because parents are not stupid and can tell that something is wrong. All the tech is allowed to say is, "I'll be right back with the doctor." Not so reassuring.
Our tech was clearly worried, and I saw her write "2 bvac???" on the scan. So I kinda knew what was going on. Fortunately at the last moment she saw the third vessel for which she was looking, and her relief was immense and kinda comical. I actually felt more sorry for her than relief for us!
However, the doctor came in and reviewed everything and all is well. Had some blood drawn for my AFP (checks proteins in blood for indicators of chromosomal defect) but at this point, it's kinda moot. We saw absolutely NO soft markers for birth defects on the scan. So we feel there is no need to jeopardize our son's health by opting for the amniocentesis.
Baby Ivan was head-to-heel measuring 21.6 cm and 11 ounces - pretty big for 19.5 weeks. Clearly he is thriving.
On Tuesday, I met with one of our OB teams for a check up - Dr. Grillo. Told him the results of the Level II and he agreed - no need for the amnio. He measured my uterus and then spent some time with the doppler machine looking for a heartbeat. Once again, our stubborn son hid from the probe. Took a good five minutes of a 30-year professional in his field looking. But Dr. G. wouldn't give up ("Ultrasounds are for sissies... ptooey!" Okay, he didn't say it, but he LOOKED it...) and eventually, higher up than expected, we found the heartbeat, steady and fast.
So everything is good! And as I said, Ivan is right again. It's really revolting, particularly when you (I) are (am) the one who is, by default, wrong. He predicted an iron deficiency for me when I was having so much trouble with my energy level. Turns out... I'm anemic. Yep. I don't have to take iron supplements yet, but Dr. Grillo wants me to increase my vitamin C intake anyway to bolster my immune system (I had a nasty upper respiratory infection the week before last), and that will help me absorb iron more efficiently. Eating more beans and beef should help. And adjusting my diet back to pre-morning sickness. I still hate broccoli and have to cover it with sauce to get it down, but I'm trying gamely. Salads are my friend. One of these days I will start making my morning spinach smoothies again.
Maybe next week. For the rest of this week, I'm going to luxuriate in maternity pants and the vital role they will play in my holiday celebration ("why, yes... I don't mind if I do have some pumpkin pie AND apple crisp..."). I will help Ivan Sr. enjoy his other birthday present - the XBox 360 he's wanted since Christmas last. And I will start to work on a baby blanket, and I will enjoy being able to crochet in blue. Because I can.
Next week I will be fully recovered from my virus, will have had a good few days' of extra C, and will be ready to take on the world. Or at least my favorite walking trail.
SO much to be thankful for right now. For this, and all of you, and everything to come.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Things I Have Learned So Far (17 weeks, 3 days).
1. Marie Callendar pot pies require a strip of aluminum foil around the crust. The circumference of the pot pie is exactly one inch larger than the length of my aluminum foil.
2. I suck at aluminum foil.
3. I will eat almost anything that goes appropriately with mustard. I prefer pretzels but if I must resort to say, corn dogs or hot dogs, I know no shame.
4. Pregnancy causes your immune system to become depressed. I think mine must be downright suicidal. If someone sneezes in the next county, I will become infected.
5. Car seat manufacturers in this country assume that every parent drives an SUV. I have had to reconsider my top three choices for car seats because the base of the seat will not fit the Prius.
6. Babies R Us is designed specifically to drive already-hormonally fragile women over the edge by overwhelming them with sheer volume of Stuff they put on your registry checklist. Although I'm looking forward to playing with the scanner. I'm registering at both BRU and Amazon; I suspect the prices and availability of stuff is better at Amazon, but I get a super cool discount at BRU on stuff that's left on my registry after my due date. Great for things like larger sized clothes and older baby toys!
7. Pregnancy intensifies personality. If you're pretty laidback normally, you become sentimental and maudlin and cry over dog food commercials (not that I know anyone like this...). If you're easily upset, you become a raging bitch and feel perfectly justified in blaming your nastiness on your pregnancy. If you're critical of the lifestyle of others, you feel absolutely free to voice your opinion of said lifestyle in a manner for which normal people (or the sentimental and maudlin variety) want to find you and wash your mouth out with soap. Preferably soap with exfoliating beads.
7a. I mean, seriously. Does it really matter if someone else prefers prefolds to pocket diapers? Or will be using tap water instead of filtered water to mix formula? Or will have relatives over to help with the baby after he or she is born? Do women who breastfeed really deny their husbands an important bonding experience? These are honest-to-goodness things pregnant women argue about, and call other women "selfish," "materialistic," "spoiled," "apathetic and uncaring," and I could go on.
8. Buying maternity jeans one size up for "comfort" is a bad idea. I now have jeans that want to fall off my hips because I do not yet have the tummy to hold them up. If I bought my right size, at least my bum would have acted as a stopgap.
9. Ivan is awesome at pregnant. Seriously. He has been a real trooper and source of strength. He reels me in when I need it and takes very tender care of my tummy. He reminds me to rest, take my vitamins, and eat the right food. And he sang the Indiana fight song to the tummy this weekend. Pretty awesome stuff.
10. It's finally getting real. My stomach is filling out and getting hard. I'm almost afraid to say this, but I think I've been feeling flutters. Last night, Ivan was poking my stomach and saying, "Come out and play!" and right after he quit, I felt a "thump." I can't wait to see his face in another month when he can feel it, too.
I'm sure there's more, but ten is good for now.
2. I suck at aluminum foil.
3. I will eat almost anything that goes appropriately with mustard. I prefer pretzels but if I must resort to say, corn dogs or hot dogs, I know no shame.
4. Pregnancy causes your immune system to become depressed. I think mine must be downright suicidal. If someone sneezes in the next county, I will become infected.
5. Car seat manufacturers in this country assume that every parent drives an SUV. I have had to reconsider my top three choices for car seats because the base of the seat will not fit the Prius.
6. Babies R Us is designed specifically to drive already-hormonally fragile women over the edge by overwhelming them with sheer volume of Stuff they put on your registry checklist. Although I'm looking forward to playing with the scanner. I'm registering at both BRU and Amazon; I suspect the prices and availability of stuff is better at Amazon, but I get a super cool discount at BRU on stuff that's left on my registry after my due date. Great for things like larger sized clothes and older baby toys!
7. Pregnancy intensifies personality. If you're pretty laidback normally, you become sentimental and maudlin and cry over dog food commercials (not that I know anyone like this...). If you're easily upset, you become a raging bitch and feel perfectly justified in blaming your nastiness on your pregnancy. If you're critical of the lifestyle of others, you feel absolutely free to voice your opinion of said lifestyle in a manner for which normal people (or the sentimental and maudlin variety) want to find you and wash your mouth out with soap. Preferably soap with exfoliating beads.
7a. I mean, seriously. Does it really matter if someone else prefers prefolds to pocket diapers? Or will be using tap water instead of filtered water to mix formula? Or will have relatives over to help with the baby after he or she is born? Do women who breastfeed really deny their husbands an important bonding experience? These are honest-to-goodness things pregnant women argue about, and call other women "selfish," "materialistic," "spoiled," "apathetic and uncaring," and I could go on.
8. Buying maternity jeans one size up for "comfort" is a bad idea. I now have jeans that want to fall off my hips because I do not yet have the tummy to hold them up. If I bought my right size, at least my bum would have acted as a stopgap.
9. Ivan is awesome at pregnant. Seriously. He has been a real trooper and source of strength. He reels me in when I need it and takes very tender care of my tummy. He reminds me to rest, take my vitamins, and eat the right food. And he sang the Indiana fight song to the tummy this weekend. Pretty awesome stuff.
10. It's finally getting real. My stomach is filling out and getting hard. I'm almost afraid to say this, but I think I've been feeling flutters. Last night, Ivan was poking my stomach and saying, "Come out and play!" and right after he quit, I felt a "thump." I can't wait to see his face in another month when he can feel it, too.
I'm sure there's more, but ten is good for now.
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