Six things of note

1. On Thursday night, Iris ripped out her g-tube button.  Here is what one looks like (not her belly--hers is more tan and...scarred).  She got ahold of it while nudie after her bath and just yanked that effer out.  It didn't bleed and she didn't cry--despite the "balloon," or part that is inside of her, being about the diameter of a dime.  It's to be expected that this would happen with her (at the Children's ER, they said it was their third one that night) and J the Fabulous Nanny said she was glad it didn't happen on her watch.  I'm also insanely thankful it didn't happen while I was lone wolf with Ezra and Iris.  Anyway, it was tres dramatic because the site where the tube is is essentially a 24/7 open area and once unobstructed, the body wants to close it up lickety split.  Her surgeon said sometimes in as little as 10 minutes the area can start to narrow and shut.  I'll spare you the rest, but all is well with minimal hurty business and we now know what that THAT experience is like.
2. I have the most wicked PMS on the face of our populated Earth.  Heinous skin, out of control weepy hormones and End of Days feelings with regards to Iris' first day of school. 
3. Speaking of which, I have the Most Nervous of Tummies about Monday.  Seriously, my tummy flips every time my brain goes there.  I want J back, but it wouldn't be good for anyone if we backpedaled; only good for me, really.  Send out the shouts to J.C., happy thoughts, positive vibes or perhaps a handful of chocolate come Monday at 8:45am EST, would you?
4. I crap you not, the Royal Wedding has occupied my days and nights since it occurred.  I am not this type of person normally, but I do believe I'll be buying the Big Fancy Editions of US and People once they're out so that I can annoy T even more with talking about it.
5. We had the March of Dimes walk this morning and despite being ridiculously cold and windy, it was lovely to have the Chubby Muffin wheeling beside us.  At this time last year, I honestly could not picture what our life would be like--and I am so very happy (raging PMS, notwithstanding) with how it turned out.
6. I leave you with a picture of Ezra on his first day of school.  On that day I was full of Zen calm.  Let us hope this can be replicated with Iris' drop-off.  Today I am doubtful.

"Mama, I wanna hold Iris."

It started off well, if not exactly well-photographed...and it went a bit down hill after that.

Homegirl was left laying on her side, as documented by a fuzzy photograph. 

Sigh.

Random useless tidbits

I am off for the week to get Iris used to daycare and train the staff on how to feed her (which is, apparently, a non-issue as they are rocking it which then has me questioning my learning curve when I first had to learn tube feeding...) as well as make sure she's not wigging out the minute we step foot in the room (so far, so good but she does grip me a bit harder when we walk in), but I'm also cranking through the house projects and am a damn site calmer in the evening since I've had all day to collect myself and my thoughts.

Perhaps you would like to know what I've accomplished around here?  I will share with you:

• Oiling all of the wood baseboards and trim and the back of the stairs.  This not only made our stairs downright treacherous, but made my hands greasier than lord knows what.  But our wood shines!  (Heh.  I said "wood.")
• Organizing our office/dumping ground for all miscellaneous whatnot. 
• Washing all of the windows inside
• Dusting and wiping down the wood rods and finials for our window treatments
• Scrubbing the light fixture in our bathroom that had some rust on it due to the scalding hot showers I like to take
• Cleaning out the garage and raking the yard and blowing the twigs off of the driveway
• Touching up paint through-out the house
• Re-doing (new wall hangings, bench with cubbies, sassy pillow, different rug) our back entryway
• Painting the swinging door between our dining room and kitchen

You'd think I was pregnant and nesting (so not), but these are things I've been wanting to do since Iris came home but refuse to spend the 48 hours of Saturday and Sunday to do them; time and energy already being allotted for other things on those days.

So, it feels good to be productive.  It feels like...the old days--when all T and I did were spruce up the joint. 

And here it is only Wednesday!  I am a machine.

Easter

I'm not sure what the heck my problem was yesterday, but I was Crank.  Feeling put upon and martyred and stuffing myself with cheesy potatoes and staring out the kitchen window while bemoaning my mental state and feeling short with Ezra and then feeling guilty about that and then wondering "What have we done to deserve Three!" and huffing mightily when T asked if I wanted help with the laundry and about a million other emotions that not only made the day a bit of a downer for me (and T, probably) but also spelled out P.M.S. in the largest of letters.  Like, super bold mega-font (wing dings if anyone knew what they hell they meant) and on fire!

Sigh.

I consoled myself in bed later knowing there would more patient days with Ezra in the future and additional Easters perhaps that won't fall slap-dab at the end of my vicious cycle. 

In the meantime, I snapped a bunch of pics without me in them because oh my jesus my skin.

An Easter combined with PMS can kiss my grits.  Just sayin'.

"I'm looking at my 'atalogs."

Circle the wagons (and throw in a tamborine)

A few weeks ago, the weather was nice.  It has not been nice since that time and I'm starting to wonder if perhaps I made up the 85 degree weather in my head.

Alas I have pictures to prove it was actually warmer than 43.  In fact, my sweatball daughter (oh my sweet lord, she gets so hotttt) had to sport a new summer outfit from her 12 month bin such is her new portliness.  Holla.  And I had to buy shorts for Ezra in a trip to Target because he was dying a quick death in his Saturday fleece-y pants.

Anyway, on that trip to Target I decided we needed a wagon for two small people.  I took a pic, sent it to T and I could hear him heavy sigh from home as he knows what this means...Putting Stuff Together! 

I do laundry.  He puts stuff together.  It's very 1952 up in our house.

Ezra loves to help, but he contributes by mostly losing nuts and bolts and making T even more sweaty.  Ah, toddlers.  Ezra even dragged in his Little Tykes workbench to bust out his screwdriver and hammer.  Sweet boy.

I folded laundry (as displayed in an unslightly manner on the couch) and Iris played musical instruments for us all.

The wagon has been spectactular, in the three times we used it before the weather turned craptastic.  But I hear May is around the corner so maybe that will mean sun.

Maybe.

Love/hate Tuesday

Love: It is break here at work.  Lovely, lovely break with zero students.  And lots of wearing of the jeans.

Hate: Sweet Lord, this weather.  40 degrees and rainy and windy.  I still haven't bought a dress for Iris to wear on Sunday because she may be in her bear snowsuit instead.

Love: I took all next week off to help Iris get used to daycare (a few hours spent here and there) and to do projects around the house.  Her oxygen tubing did a numbah on our paint and our garage is...yucky.

Hate: Every day I feel like we're one day closer to saying "goodbye" to J the Fabulous Nanny.  Sad panda.

Love: I got a few RSVPs for Ezra's party.

Hate: I hate having to disappoint Ezra every.single.day when he wakes up and asks, "Is TODAY my birthday?"  Sweet boy.

Love: Iris has officially changed over to a toddler formula and is off the costly unicorn dust.  Yay!  AND! because she is still fed enterally, my insurance through work is covering it in full and delivers a stash of it once a month.  AND! because she can potentially drink this stuff once she's ready, it doesn't smell like booty.  AND! it's like a ready-to-drink concoction so no more making up of bottles with powder and whatnot.

Hate: I need to find a place at home to stash all the cans of toddler formula. Not so much a "hate" as I am so happy to have it.

Love: I bought new jeans a few weeks ago.  I put on my game face and went to the mall with the resolution to not leave unless I found flattering jeans--at whatever the cost.  Well, I ended up going on the Saturday of Spring Break and almost had a coronary at how crowded it was.  I generally hate shopping at the mall and hate trying on pants even more, but whatever.  Well!  I recalled many a TPTP recommendation for the Flirt! line at Old Navy and they are rockin'. I bought two pairs and called it a day.

Hate: That I went so long wearing hoopty jeans.  That can't happen again.

Love: Ham was on sale this weekend when Ezra and I did an epic grocery shopping trip. 

Hate: I have no idea when I'm going to bake it.  I may run home mid-day some time this week and throw it in.  While J the Fabulous Nanny starts dinner for us most nights, I usually draw the line at having her do more complex stuff--just seems weird.

Love: Lunch.  Mealtimes are just so great.


Any love/hates of your own?

It's like 4th grade all over again

Ezra turns three at the end of next month and we decided to have a Friend Birthday Party and a separate Family Birthday Party for the first time.  This is mainly because I am simple-minded and, after attending Ezra's first school-friend birthday last month, thought maybe we should do it too since it went so marvelously for that family of hosts.  Before that event, it never occurred to me to do such a thing for I am known (or, T likes to remind me) to become a bit...Much over these types of events.  I like to think of it as Being Lovingingly Prepared, T might liken it to Pistol-Whipping Any Who Fall Out of Line.

Pfft.

Anyway, we're "going there" with a bunch of 3 and 4 year olds but not at the mercy of my house.  I'm not prepared for that and don't want my ass clenched the entire time.  So, we're having it at a Gymboree that Ezra and Iris go to and the more I think about it, the more I think it will be a-okay.  They take care of everything which, ding dong!, I am all about.  We just show up, eat cake, climb on stuff and then leave.  There's a teacher and bubbles and goodies for the attendees.  Holla!  I even tried to think about other ways I might make it more work for myself (which I inevitably do, regardless of trying to tell myself ahead of time that I will be Mellow Marvin), and there are none.

Thumbs up!

However, like with most parties--this one involved...invitations.  Invitations are stressful for me as I directly equate them to how much or how little someone likes me; not Ezra, but me.  I know, I know--it's so very I'm Eight Years Old but I'm complex.  What can I say.

I will share with you here that I most definitely put those invites in the kid's mailboxes/parent folders at school on Thursday morning and, I crap you not, totally expected 13 screaming "YES"s in my Gmail inbox by the time I got to work ten minutes later.  Reasonable, I know.

What makes this admission extra fun is that I met someone, L (Hello, L!), a former co-worker of Red Door's and parent of one of Ezra's friends and someone who reads here.  L, there's an invite in your mailbox for your son, O.  Will you guys be coming?  Will you?  WILL YOU?! 

Ha, ha.  Just kidding.  I'm not that creepy.  Just desperate.

Did I mention there will be cake?

If I were a rich WOman

While eating lunch at a local deli this afternoon (post-heart appointment for Iris which went swimmingly and where she tolerated all poking and prodding and was able to watch Curious George during said prodding), I realized that I'd gotten a bit of a smear on my US Weekly.  I instantly thought:

"If I were rich, I'd have someone turning those pages for me and then my pictures of Zoe Saldana in Dolce and Gabbana would not be smeared with chicken salad."

Of course, such a Rich Person Thing sounds utterly ridiculous even to me but my thoughts totally snowballed as I ate my sandwich (with bacon!).  Suddenly, there were lots of things, both kinda practical and mostly asinine, that I'd be having done for me if I was rich.

They are, in no particular order of importance:

• Parallel park for me
• Make me yellow cake cupcakes with chocolate frosting on a moments notice and only allow me to have one
• Bring me nicely grilled steaks--medium well, please--that are cut up in bite sized chunks with a dab of A1 on each individual piece
• Cut up and peel fruit
• Attend stupid work meetings in my place and be assertive where/when needed
• Figure out the science behind teleporting and make it work for my family only
• Remind me to get my bikini line waxed on a more regular basis
• Be a non-creepy babysitter so that T and I can go out on dates
• Take the seeds out of watermelon--even the reportedly seedless ones that TOTALLY haves seeds (I SO see you, seeds!)
• Teach Iris that eating is lots o' fun and cool to do

What are your Ridiculous Rich Person requests?

Poseur (because I'm fancy like that)

As I was laying in bed last night, I was struck with the recurring feeling that it is sometimes hard for me to believe that I am 35, have a husband, two kids I have to keep alive and functional and out of poopy superheros, a mortgage, my own car, an adult-type career that involves conferences and teaching other people stuff and a host of responsibilities, aka bills.

I don't feel old and I don't have a problem with my age.  I'm squishier than I was at 25 but I attribute most of that to having had children (and loving Big Macs, but whatever).

Gauging my oldness by my love of the sheets isn't entirely accurate either as I've almost always gone to bed early.  In college, I was either in bed sleeping at night or out drunk; there wasn't much in-between.  Why be awake and sleepy while also being sober?  Boo to that.

I have some gray hair, but again--damn kids.  Few wrinkles, but I think that's good genetics.  My hands look older, but check out Madonna's paws on Google Images when you have a second.  Lady hands are a losing battle.

All of this to say that I don't feel old, but clearly have a 35 year old life.  I like my life, though.  I like where T and I are and I like that we're in it together.  I like that we've done things, but still have things to look forward to once the kids shove off to college.  I like my children.  I like that I've had enough gray matter to learn from some (but in all honesty, probably not all) of the crappy things thrust on my Life's plate.

So I guess time keeps ticking on and I'll keep getting older and I guess that's okay.

Crabs

I am frustrated...that I still am regretting having cut my hair...that today is windy and while walking to lunch I got a nice poof of dust in my eyeball. ...that I didn't work out at all last week because of a lingering stomach bug. ...that T and I had a Squeeky Wheel marriage day yesterday. (A Squeeky Wheel marriage day is a day where nothing goes or is said or is responded to as intended. No big fights, but few hugs and smiles.) ...that Blogger is still effing up my paragraphs and I have to manually put them in using html. It's why I haven't been blogging as much and! I hate html which is why I use Blogger in the first place. ...that Ezra wigged the heck out yesterday evening and received not one! but! two! time-outs within 15 minutes time. ...that I am really very tired and I have a super long week full of Iris appointments and T traveling and not many fun things to look forward to. ...that in trying to work-out during the weekend free time that I've completely stopped getting my nails done and now I've started biting them again and they look hoopty and horrible. ...that it's stuffy in my office. ...that I randomly want to cry even though I'm more pissy than sad. ...that even this cheesy pizza is making me feel crank. ...that I still want to punch a certain co-worker square in the neck. ...that the weather refuses to stay consistently nice and even-tempered. ...that green peppers continue to exist and sneak their way into my food.

I got things I need to know: the Cinema Edition

1. What movie always makes you a Weepy Willie? Like, without fail.


2. What movie do you gasp with excitement over if you see that is on tv?


3. Tell me your thoughts on movie theater popcorn.


4. How much does a movie ticket cost where you live?

Punch in the neck

I am feeling punchy today and not Hey, I Ate Too Many Pixie Sticks-kind of punchy but more Oh My Goodness How Will You Ever Practice Law if You Can't Remember to Carry a Pen. *punch*

Anyway, I attribute this to not sleeping very well last night. When I am lacking in sleep (and by lacking, this means anything less than 8 hours...yeah...I know), I am not nice. This lack of niceness being the major Thing in which T and I consider when thinking about more kids as new babies do not equal good or adequate or 8 hours of sleep.

I didn't sleep well because earlier in the evening I decided that perhaps the reason I haven't had an appetite and have lost three pounds is not becuase I had a beastly 24 hour stomach flu Sunday and its effects are still lingering, no--rather, I had internal bleeding in my stomach due to taking too many Tylenol PMs.

Stomach bleeding surely results in feeling horky and losing weight, right? I mean, holla!, for fitting into my new jeans with room to spare but thumbs down on the alleged pooling of hemoglobin in my gut.

So, I forewent the sleepytime acetaminophen and as a result did not sleep a wink. I thought about my pedicure and whether I should wear sandals to work and why my legs are so white and how horrible that is and about corn dogs and swimming pools and when to buy summer clothes for Ezra and Iris and when I should start carrying a new purse and a whole host of other useless things.

Of course I did fall asleep right at about 4:30am which made feel ragey when my alarm went off an hour later. And isn't that always the case with insomnia and falling asleep right before your alarm? It's like I need a fake-out alarm to fake-out my brain so that I reeeeeally fall asleep at 11:00pm instead.

Anyway, tonight I'm totally going back to my over the counter-induced sleep. Dreams ahoy.

Go team

Last year during the March for Babies, Iris was at University Hospital only a week after her former Swiss Cheese of Heart had been operated on. Her chest cavity was still open post-surgery. She was on a machine that was doing all of her heart and lung functions for her. (Read that Wikipedia entry...it's bleak, yo.)

She'd never been home even after five months of life.

A month and a half later she came home to live with her family.

Five months after that she was off oxygen completely.

Almost a year after her open heart surgery, she is waving "hello" and "goodbye," standing up and trying to walk, saying "egg" and "mama" and "papa" and astounding her doctors by making it through the winter with only two minor colds. She is on the growth chart for her actual age of 17 months whereas when she came home she wasn't even on the growth chart for her adjusted age.

Iris is going to make it.

A year ago and no one, not even T and me, was sure.

While in the NICU, Iris received a host of support that originated with the March of Dimes; support that was both seen and unseen. Support that I know T and I took for granted.

What we don't want to take for granted is that babies continue to come early. Our future children, your friends--both in real life and online--they're everywhere. But by clicking on the badge to the left, you can make sure that the support from March of Dimes is everywhere too.

Thank you for helping me get through this past year and for helping others too.