Belly and The Bug: November 2009

Another family holiday under the belt

And by under the belt, I truly mean under the belt. I think I've eaten my weight in creamy dips and chocolate-peanut butter balls in the past four days. I need salad...

I'd say Thanksgiving was uneventful, but that's not entirely true. My mom and all of her kids (there are six of us) were together. We played a TON of games - Apples to Apples, Quiddler, Yahtzee, Scrabble, Boggle - and had an equal amount of fun. We also teased/harrassed each other mercilessly. It seems like everyone can dish it out, but not everyone can take it. And as is the case at many of our family gatherings, we parted with some sadness and some relief. I personally parted with an overwhelming feeling of thankfulness that I can still fit into my jeans.

The girls had a great time at Grandma's house. We forgot to bring their high chairs, so meal times were much more loosey goosey than usual and they thoroughly enjoyed it. They also ate only about half as much as they usually do. Buggy actually spent most of the holiday sick. She had a fever that kept spiking (at one point hitting 102.7 degrees) and she vomited twice. All of her symptoms eventually vanished and we have no clue what was the cause of this crappiness. She somehow managed to remain upbeat throughout the whole ordeal. If the tables were turned, I would've been decidedly crabby. What a great kid!

Now here I sit - fat, exhausted and about to start the craziness of Christmas prep. Maybe I'll take a few days off first.

Thankful

I have 90 other things I'm supposed to be doing right now: clearing the dishes off the table, folding laundry, cleaning up the kid debris that is all over the floor, making caramelized onion dip, baking pecan pies. And I will do all those things in the next two hours, but first I'm having a teensy glass of wine and writing this here post. Erika, Billy and D will be here in about two hours. Sissy is bringing them from the airport and I think Bri is coming over as well. I want the house to look good, blah, blah. But this is my last 10 minutes of quiet before the holiday officially begins.

I used to be better about the holidays. I absolutely love getting together with everyone and eating and playing games. It's the best! But as I get older, I'm finding that I have less patience for avoidable chaos. I have a harder time just going with it. Maybe it's an age thing or maybe it's because I've got two kids who thrive on structure that has made me way more structured than I ever was before. Whatever it is, I fear I'm getting a little uptight. So I'm focusing on being as easy going as I can be this holiday week. Everyone will have their own plans and agendas and I'm going to do my best to go with the flow. I am going to endeavor to only lay down the law when it comes to my girls and nap times and bed times and stuff like that. Because, my peeps, I need to get over the little things and give thanks for all the things this holiday is bringing my way.

I am fortunate enough to have multitudes of things for which to be thankful, so I'm only going to highlight a few (as I said, there's pie to bake!). And with that, I'm thankful for pie. I am beyond thankful for my tremendous family. We're something of a motley crew (as opposed to Motley Crue - I shared a wink with Tommy Lee once, but he is decidedly not in my family) and I really wouldn't have it any other way. I am thankful that I don't have to work right now and get to spend so much time with my growing daughters. I am thankful that we always have enough food - and it's good, organic stuff. I am thankful we have the Charmer to provide us shelter and warmth. I am thankful for all of my friends (who really fall in that motley family category). And I am thankful to have health insurance, a reliable vehicle, and my Wusthof knives. And also? I'm thankful for you, Internet Friends. I can't tell you how nice it is to have something - this here blog - that is mine all mine. I like writing it. I like hearing from you. It's an entirely good thing. There. Okay. I gotta go. I just heard the dryer stop.

Chri$tma$

I bought our plane tickets to Arkansas for Christmas. $800 each for four tickets. If you can do simple math, then you know that I just spent $3200 to go to ARKANSAS from OREGON. Just for fun - and because we had talked about going there in 2010 - I priced flying to Germany for 10 days in March. They were only $80 more per ticket. Needless to say, we will not be able to do both Arkansas and Germany in the next year, so Arkansas it is. It hurts, people. It hurts. And don't get me started on the fact that those tickets were the cheapest I could find, they're on Southwest Airlines, and we have two stops in each direction.

BUT... I'm excited to be going. I can't wait to see my dad and stepmom, my sister Molly, her husband Stan and my two nieces, ages 4 and 18 months. Plus Erika, Billy and D are going to be there. Fun! Molly and I have already bought coordinating Christmas jammies for the little girls so we can take unbelievably cute/tacky pictures of them together (consider that your notice that I will be posting these unbelievably cute/tacky pictures after the holidays).

Thinking of Christmas, however, invariably leads me to think about purchasing gifts for everybody. It's a pretty huge and pricey undertaking. In my family, everybody gets everybody else a gift (couple gifts are acceptable, though). Dude and his sibs stopped exchanging gifts a few years ago. Now we just buy gifts for each other's kids. But even so, there are twenty-one family members for whom I need to purchase gifts. This does not include Dude, Belly and Buggy. Let's say that I spend $25 per person, that's $525 + Dude + my kids = more than I can afford. SERIOUSLY. How did the holidays get so effing expensive? My family (the side that is my mom and her kids) is considering starting a new tradition next year wherein we each purchase one cool gift that anyone would be happy to have and then play a game to dole out the gifts. I'm assuming we'll still do gifts for all the kids, but this seems like an extremely reasonable solution to the high cost of adult gift giving. Anyone have other suggestions? Keep in mind that my family's Christmas is all about food and family (meaning, no religious activities or observances involved that would take the place of tearing open a mountain of gifts in about 8.7 seconds flat).

I'm too late

The night after I wrote that last post about my old friend Michelle, I decided to google her. I hadn't done it in a couple years and you never know what'll turn up. It's a little tricky, though, because I don't have a location or anything like that to put in with her name. Two pages in, I found her obituary. She died last year. I think I almost passed out because everything went dark around me except for her name on the screen. I. Just. Couldn't. Believe. It.

The obit only gave her name, dates of birth and death, said she had been living in Milwaukee, and listed her surviving relatives. That was it. When I wrote about Michelle before, I didn't talk about her issues with drugs. She had them. I never thought she was addicted to anything but that's such an easy spiral to go down, especially when you've used for years. I don't know what happened to Michelle, but I would put money on her death being drug related. It completely breaks my heart.

I've been reaching out to old friends (whom I haven't seen or talked to in 14 years or so) via Facebook over the last few days trying to piece together what happened. So far I can't find anyone who kept in touch with her longer than I did. I feel like I need to know to have some closure. I will call her dad if I have to, but I'm trying to avoid that if I can.

In the meantime, I am profoundly sad. I can't believe that she was in Milwaukee and I couldn't find her. I can't believe that no one else seemed to know she was there either. And I can't believe that she's gone. Michelle was a dear friend whom I loved tremendously, even when I didn't know where she was. And if she had not introduced me to Dude all those years ago, my life would be wholly different right now. I cannot think of another friend who has had this significant of an influence on my life.

I don't know what else I can write here. I'm just sad and stunned and... everything.

**Additional note 11/23/09:

I wasn't able to make much headway by reaching out to old friends, so I ultimately ended up calling Michelle's dad (well, her mom's former boyfriend who was the closest thing to a dad Michelle ever had). His name was listed in the obituary and I found his number online. I wish that I'd known his last name all these years because he clearly could've connected me with Michelle. I explained who I was and why I was calling and he was very, very sweet. He said that she'd been in Colorado most of the time I was looking for her and had been back in Milwaukee for about a year before she died. Her death was a terrible accident that was the result of mixing the "wrong" drugs and alcohol. We chatted and cried for a few minutes about how much we loved her and then that was about it. So... I guess that's closure. Damn. I have a certain sense of relief in knowing that she wasn't some strung-out, lonely junkie but I'm not feeling any less sad about the whole thing.

My Michelle

When I was 18, I had a friend named Michelle. We were the best of buds, roommates and even waited tables at the same restaurant. Regardless of how much time we spent together, I never got sick of her. She was wacky and unpredictable and courageous and vulnerable. We lived in a five-bedroom apartment in Milwaukee, WI with a revolving cast of crazy roommates and it was the quintessential party pad. On any given night of the week, you could find random boys crashed on the couch or the floor or the couch and the floor. I was the baby of the house by about three years (Michelle was 25) and I enjoyed a certain level of protection from my debaucherous roomies. That's not to say that I didn't engage in some nuttiness. I won't lie. I did. But peeps, I saw some crazy stuff.

Anyway, Michelle is who introduced me to Dude. She had dated his brother casually but had ended it when she got back together with her ex. One day, Dude and his brother came into the restaurant where Michelle and I worked. I expressed an interest in Dude because he was hot and she set it up. As I said, she was a good, good friend.

Michelle had a rough childhood. Her dad wasn't around much. Her mother committed suicide when Michelle was thirteen. To say this scarred her is a gross understatement. She was terrified of abandonment. She often felt that she was to blame when things went wrong around her. She craved approval. After her mother's death, Michelle moved in with her grandparents. Her grandma was very loving and did what she could to provide for Michelle, even though they were people of simple means. Her grandpa was the kind of old guy who did not show emotion, did not exude a lot of positivity. Even though she was seven years my senior, I was incredibly protective of my dear friend.

Michelle ended up moving to Denver with her boyfriend. I spent the night there midway on my move from Milwaukee to Los Angeles. We stayed up late giggling. She came to visit me in LA not long after that and we were as close as ever. Some months went by and I didn't hear from her. I called her but her number was disconnected. I got in touch with her grandma who gave me her current number. Michelle and I kept in touch for a little while but then lost each other again. Dude moved in with me in LA. We got engaged. I wanted to invite Michelle to the wedding and again I called her grandmother. Except her grandpa answered the phone. He said that his wife was not available and I got the distinct impression that she had passed away. I explained who I was so he didn't think I was a telemarketer and asked him if he could either give me Michelle's phone number or pass mine on to her. He said, "I haven't talked to Michelle in over a year. I don't suppose I ever will again. The last I heard, the cops were looking for her and they thought maybe she'd gone to Mexico. Good luck, young lady." Click. Michelle often had shady friends and found herself in wild situations - she'd even married a one-legged Jamaican guy so he could get citizenship (I'm so not making that up) - but I was not expecting that.

I have never again heard from Michelle and I can't tell you the number of times that I've thought about her. If I had the chance to reconnect with anyone from my past, it would be her. More than anything, I'd like to know she's okay. Today is her 41st birthday.

H1N1

I had a difficult time deciding whether or not to get the girls vaccinated against H1N1. I started out unsure, did a bunch of reading on the internet and came away pretty opposed to doing it. I was adamant that we'd wait until there were conclusive results from the testing that it was going to be effective (as opposed to the virus mutating so rapidly that it rendered the vaccine pointless) and that it wasn't going to harm my daughters. I wasn't saying never, just not yet - not that it was available anyway. I discussed it ad nauseum with my friends and fellow mothers of two-year-olds. I discussed it with our pediatrician. I discussed it with myself in the shower. I was totally fixated on doing what was best for our daughters.

And then people started getting sick. One of my very good friends (and mother of two) got it. Both of my brothers got it. We scaled back our regular schedule of play-dates so that I wasn't exposing the girls to SO many venues frequented by the germy multitudes. We became the absolute queens of hand sanitation. And then... I said on Facebook that I was once again thinking about that damn H1N1 vaccine. This provoked a quick and intelligent discussion amongst my friends that don't know each other, including mothers and doctors. Wow! Such conviction on both sides of the argument! I was still unsure. Then someone posted a lengthy and thoughtful commentary that helped me make up my mind.

She said that the vaccine has been tested - as much as any flu vaccine is tested - but that most of the articles written about it that one will find on the internet were written before the two rounds of testing. Bottom line: It's effective.

This particular vaccine has become a handy platform for those who are opposed to all vaccines because of the mercury and aluminum (an argument that I personally can understand and support, yet I think the benefits outweigh the risks at this juncture), but it isn't any worse than the others in that respect. Bottom line: It's as safe or unsafe as any other vaccine.

This morning our family foursome drove to the Mt. Hood Community College and waited in line outside for almost two hours to get the girls vaccinated. As is the case everywhere, the vaccine is in short supply and the solitary option we had to get it immediately was to go to the one and only flu clinic being held by the county health department. We didn't tell the girls what we were doing and they were in great spirits... until we were about to walk into the vaccination room. Belly said, "Doctor's office!" and she and the Bug both started to panic. Dude and I assured them that they weren't going to get any shots but then we walked into the vaccination room and there was table after table of doctors giving people shots. And so the screaming commenced. I told the girls that the lady was going to go psshhht in their noses with a funny thing that wouldn't hurt and that was it - no shots. They clearly did not believe me and we had to hold them down to get the nasal mist up their little shnozes. The screaming only stopped once the stickers were firmly pressed onto the backs of their hands. And then they were all, "Oh. That was it? That was nothin'. Thanks, doc. Cool sticker. Later." I think we were all somewhat drained from the experience.

Of course, they're still not vaccinated. The second nasal misting needs to occur in about 3 weeks and THEN it will be effective. It's my understanding that OHSU will have it by then and we won't be playing the county health department game again (thank goodness). And I don't know if Dude and I are going to get it. I suppose we would have today if it was available to us, but it was only for "high priority" people and we didn't make the cut (the girls did because they are under the age of five). Regardless, I'm happy that we did it so that I can finally stop deliberating the pros and cons in my head. I never understood that seemingly easy decisions like this could be so all encompassing and require such mental fortitude. In other words, being a mom can be haaaaaaard. I need a popsicle.

Heavy, then happy, then hysterical

Heavy

Belly's eye surgery got scheduled today. December 16th. The day after my 35th birthday. I almost starting crying after I got off the phone. I know this is the right thing to do - so much so that it's pretty much in the "no brainer" category - but I feel sick about it. I cannot wait for all of this to be over.

Happy

On a happier note, the basement seems to have made it out of the water debacle unscathed! Everything is dry and clean and seemingly fine. Wahooooo!! Now I can spend all that money on Christmas presents (because Lord knows that's not hard to do). I've bought a few things already and I'm getting a little excited. I have always been a staunch believer in waiting to break out the Christmas cheer until after Thanksgiving is over. It only seems fair, right? But this year, I can't help it. For whatever reason that I can't explain, I'm gettin' downright cheery already! Maybe it's because this is the first year that the girls will be able to understand what's going on (to a certain extent). Or maybe it's because we're going to my sister's house in Arkansas and I haven't seen her family and my dad and stepmom in well over a year. Or maybe it's because this year is bound to be better than last. Or maybe it's all those retail ads that have been bombarding me since before Halloween (which is beyond wrong). I will try to contain it until after Thanksgiving, but I can't make any promises. I've already belted out "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" once this week. And I'm downright giddy thinking about watching "The Year Without A Santa Clause." Bring. It. On.

Hysterical

You know what's been cracking me up every time I think about it? The other day, the girls and I were driving somewhere and running late, as usual. The section of SE Division we were on has two lanes in each direction, but there was a truck in front of me driving down the center of the two lanes like it was one big lane just for him. I normally would've let the litany of expletives flow forth (Pick a lane, you blankety-blanker with your big blanking truck, thinking you own the mother-blanking road. Get out of my blanking way!), but I've been trying incredibly hard to have some restraint around the girls. So I said, "Dang it! Move over, TRUCK!" Pretty good, huh? But as soon as I said it, the Bug let out a long string of, "Dang it! Dang it, Daddy! Dang it! C'mon, Daddy. KA-MON, DADDY!" I totally whooped aloud as I tried to hold back laughing. It sounded exactly like me. I mean, EXACTLY like me. I immediately called Dude to apologize for saying that. I haven't the faintest clue when I said it or to what it was in reference, but I obviously said it. There can be no doubt.

My friend's two-year-old daughter outdid the Bug, though. The other day as they were driving along, my friend heard a little voice from the back say, "That's not a lane, jackass!" Sometimes it's a really, really funny thing to see - or hear - yourself in your child.

A little water situation

This day started out tremendously. We all got up early - but not too early - and walked to Grand Central Bakery for breakfast. I always get a jammer (hollowed-out biscuit filled with raspberry jam) for me and a brioche bread pudding for the girls. These are my two favorite pastries there and the girls never finish the bread pudding, which means the last few bites are mine (I wouldn't want Dude to call me a waster). Our plan was to come home, get organized, and have a fun-filled family trip to the plumbing store. I've been complaining that Dude only takes Saturdays off work and then ends up doing chores all day, leaving me without a day of co-parenting, making me cranky, causing arguments to ensue. No fun. So, a family trip to the plumbing store was a compromise. I was promised we could also look at a new mattress for the girls' bed (which hurts my back) and this was the real reason I was down with the plan. But upon arriving home, Dude called the store to make sure they had the part he needed and discovered that they would replace it for free if it could be mailed. This left us with a free morning. I was all ready to go to just the mattress store when Dude said something most unexpected: "Let's go to the zoo!" What? The ZOO? I know we have a membership and everything but Dude almost never flies by the seat of his pants like that.

So off we went to the zoo! I think the girls are finally at the right age for it, too. They know lots of animals from books and were astounded to see them in real life. I think they were a little stunned at the magnitude of some of the animals, especially the giraffe. The mama and baby elephants together were ridiculously cute. When we got to the zebras, I asked the Bug how many she could count. She said, "Uno, dos zebras." The giant brain on that kid scares me. I pray that she is not a conniving teen because I think she's going to be very, very good at whatever she wants to be very, very good at. The primate house was our last stop and just as we were strolling up, it started to rain - and rain and rain and rain and rain. This was not a light little mist or a gentle shower. It was a thunderstorm. We waited 20 minutes or so and since there was no end in sight, I put the rain cover on the stroller, broke out a few umbrellas and off we went. But Belly was TICKED that she had to ride in the stroller and was not being carried by her mother (who was trying to keep the diaper bag dry). She started screaming in the monkey house and continued all the way to the truck in the parking lot. Honestly, it sounded like we were doing a poor job of covertly smuggling a monkey out of the zoo. People stared. It pretty much blew.

After we got home, I noticed some water in the bathroom and the family room, which is our finished basement. Dude and I immediately knew the problem. We had a new roof put on about a month ago, but the gutters were shot. We've been lackadaisical about getting new gutters because we've been trying to decide between regular downspouts or something fancier. We finally reached a decision (regular downspouts) and the gutter people will be putting them up on Tuesday. In the meantime, we got nothin'. And water was pooling up against the front of the house.

Dude ran outside and nailed plastic sheeting to the front of the house, creating a water slide to the driveway. I sussed out the situation downstairs. We ended up peeling back the carpet, using the Shopvac to get the water out of the carpet and the padding, propping everything up to dry, aiming three fans at the area and putting the dehumidifier right there, too. We'll see what we're dealing with when it's dry. I've already decided in my head that we'll need to replace the carpet and the drywall. Frickin' frack. This so could've been avoided and we were just stupid about it.

Somehow, neither Dude nor I have become bitchy about this. I feel like we've been a really solid team today, even complimenting each other about good ideas and stuff. We had planned to make catfish for dinner (one of our favorite things ever - prepared only after daughters are sound asleep and served with a few beers apiece) and watch old episodes of The West Wing. Instead (because the tv is downstairs in the family room), we're going to drop a three-hour Duraflame log into the fireplace in the living room, turn on some music, and pig out in front of the fire. Now some of you might be thinking, "Have they had their fireplace fixed yet?" And the answer is no, but we've been told that a couple fires using that specific Duraflame log - as opposed to a roaring fire - will be just fine (we need to have the mortar shored up in the firebox; the chimney is in fine shape and clean and ready to go). This house sure is charming but DANG we're putting some work into it.

Surgery

My poor little Belly. She's going to have eye surgery by the end of the year. She started having some crossing in her eyes when she was a few months old - not all the time, but enough that we took her to a pediatric ophthalmologist. That doctor was a total alarmist and suggested we submit our four-month-old to an MRI (which requires general anesthesia) and do surgery right away, etc. Two opinions and some eye patching later, we found a doctor we really liked. She put our baby in glasses and it was the cutest thing ever. See?

The glasses made a big difference... for awhile. After we moved to Portland, we knew it was time to take her for an eye check-up and noticed that there didn't seem to be any recent improvement with the crossing. We took her to OHSU where they have top-notch pediatric ophthalmologists. The doctor there suggested that her prescription had lessened so that she didn't need glasses anymore, and thus they were no longer effective in correcting the crossing. He said that he believed she was a surgical candidate. Once again we sought a second opinion. That second opinion guy ended up being a total tool and so I called her old doctor on the East coast. She gave me excellent advice and we went back to OHSU armed with a bunch of questions, all of which were answered "correctly." We finally felt confident that we were in good hands.

As we've explored all of the options with her current doctor, it's obvious that surgery is the way to go. Of this I have no doubt. It's a simple outpatient surgery that should last 1.5-2 hours with an incredibly high success rate. She won't be in pain but will have red eyes and some mild irritation for two days. And then everything will be fixed. Easy, right? Well, I guess so. Except I know I'm going to have a very, very, very, very difficult time with this. The thought of letting them take my sedated toddler back to an operating room without me to knock her out completely before performing surgery on both of her eyes is more than a little daunting. They might need to give me a sedative, too. Ugh.

Expect to hear more on this as the date draws near (it's not scheduled yet but I know it will be in December). And feel free to send me any extra Xanax you have lying around the medicine cabinet.

The Switcheroo!

Thanks, Eleanor's Mommy, for sending me a picture of the family on Halloween with our last-minute costume changes! Funny - it looks like I'm at a Halloween party with my kids and some dude just happened to sit down near us...

Halloween highlights

I'm feeling awfully lazy at the moment, so in lieu of a real post I give you a list of highlights from this Halloween weekend:

The girls exclaimed repeatedly, "Happy DeeDee (birthday), Halloween!" Clearly we've had some holiday cross-contamination.
We went to a kiddie Halloween party on Saturday afternoon and I let Belly eat a couple cookies. I have heard "Cookie, please!" about 763,921 times since then.
As we were about to get ready for said party, I had the brilliant idea of changing up our costumes. So Belly and I went as "a little bit country" and Buggy and Dude were "a little bit rock 'n roll." Is it good or bad that Dude and I can easily outfit ourselves in either of these persuasions? (Sadly, I forgot to bring my camera to the party and don't have pictures of our switcheroo.)
I balanced the checkbook for the first time since July. THAT was a chore.
The girls were introduced to Elvis the dog and Poncho the bunny at my aunt and uncle's house today. YOU try to decipher between "Daddy's office" and "Doggy Elvis." It ain't easy.
The Packers lost to Brett Favre and the Vikings today. Ack.
I've gained 23 pounds since Friday eating candy, cookies, cake, pie, dips and chips, bacon-bleu-cheese burgers with french fries, beer-boiled-then-grilled bratwurst and potato salad, and drinking lots and lots of beer. You know the expression "you are what you eat?" Well, I think it's pretty obvious that I ate the brats.

And with that lovely picture, I bid you goodnight.

Belly and The Bug