Dusting off some curse words I haven’t used in a while.

Here I go again, putting information out there on the Interwebs.  I figure since my Google searches on the subject have yielded Jack Shit that I might as well be that beacon of knowledge for folks to stumble across.

Went for my blood draw bright and early this morning (grumbling all the way, thinking what a waste of time it was).  Then I took the kid to a coffee meet-up with my local mommy cult.  While we were at the coffee shop I heard my phone buzzing in my tote bag and that tell-tell UNC Hospitals prefix was on the display, so I answered it.

Guess whose beta hCG levels aren’t dropping.

*raises hand*

I couldn’t get all psychotic on the phone since I was in the presence of too many witnesses (I save my crazy for home) so I calmly asked the doc what the worse-case scenario is and what I need to do at this point.

Basically, I’m in “wait and see” mode.  I have a follow-up appointment scheduled for next Friday so they’re going to wait until then to draw blood again.  If my count hasn’t gone down by then they’ll probably inject me with something-or-other to kill off the rogue cells that are probably hanging around.  (Backstory: when I had surgery to remove the ectopic they couldn’t find the embryo so they assumed it had been reabsorbed by my body.  Guess not.)

This whole “little bit pregnant” thing is starting to piss me off.  I was all calm and shit about it before, but now I’m beginning to turn into crazy raging mommy.  I NEED things to have a beginning, middle, and end so for this incident to not have a determinable conclusion is seriously messing with my head.  I need to MOVE ON!

Posted by Tiffany on 05/28 at 12:51 PM
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Grumble.Grumble.

I need to go outside and find a pinecone to kick.

One of the docs from the hospital just called and was wondering why they didn’t see me today for my quantitative hCG test.  I was like “Ummmm…”  I really didn’t have a good answer.  What I wanted to say was “Well, since y’all didn’t call me last week like you said you would I assumed I was okie-doke.”

Nope.  Last week’s level was 153.  So, my count had only dropped by about 50 in the span of one week.

...

...

Dude.

I asked why the crap was falling so slowly and she told me that’s just the way ectopics work.

a;lkdsf o;ipdfnfw fvl.fwflkaf; vtavcnvpw-oivncjvbniues!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Effing blood draws.

Posted by Tiffany on 05/27 at 04:59 PM
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30 months.

Rosco had his 30-month well-child pediatrician visit today.  From what I hear a lot of folks opt out of this particular appointment because the child isn’t scheduled to receive any immunizations.  A lot of insurance companies won’t cover it.  Well, since our insurance is okay and will cover pretty much anything that’s preventative we try to keep all of the recommended appointments (especially since the doc discovered that heart murmur last time).  Also, I’ve learned that this is about the time that doctors start getting concerned about autism diagnoses. 

Well, Rosco is basically right where he’s supposed to be.  He’s of average weight, slightly taller than average height, and meets his milestones either early or on time.  The pediatrician thought that his conversational skills were very amusing (apparently he enunciates well, go figure).  The only issue of concern (other than his chronic eczema) is his disinterest in interacting with other kids.  It’s something we’ll take a look at again in the future, but right now it’s not terribly concerning because a) he’s not afraid of talking to adults, and b) I admitted that I wasn’t a great socializer as a child (hell, still ain’t).

She thought it was good for him that he’s home with me right now, so that sort of takes a load off.

Oh, and she thinks 30-month-olds still need a daytime nap.  Works for me.  I need him to take a nap as much as he needs to take one.

Posted by Tiffany on 05/27 at 10:52 AM
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Ride for Clive

I’m posting this not only because Scott asked me to but because it concerns one of those “that’s a damn shame” events that really chew you up.

Scott and I communicate using various methods throughout the day just to touch base.  Usually we just email back and forth (unless something pressing [in my opinion] occurs and he quits responding).  One day last summer I was at work and he sent me an email telling me that everyone at the office was down in the dumps because one of his coworkers had been hit by a vehicle during his morning bike ride to the office.  The coworker, Clive, died after an SUV crossed into his lane on an Orange County road and struck him.

I remember feeling really blue about it.  He was a family man, and his sudden death was a reminder that as much as we try to protect ourselves and our families from harm, in the end outside forces sometimes swoop in and devastate what we’ve built up.  Makes you want to hold your babies closer.

Clive was an avid cyclist and some people who still care a lot about him have organized a twelve mile ride on the American Tobacco Trail here in Durham on June 6 - three days after the anniversary of his death.  The event is free to participate in and will drive awareness to the importance of being conscientious drivers who are courteous to bicyclists, even when it’s not easy or convenient.

[The Snarky Family will not be riding because only one of us owns a bike (and that one still hasn’t mastered pedaling), but for locals who can swing it - it’s a heck of a tribute.]

Spread the word. 
Check out the event website at http://www.rideforclive.com/.
Follow them on Twitter at http://twitter.com/RideForClive.
Learn more about Clive at http://www.clivesweeney.com/blog/.

Posted by Tiffany on 05/26 at 01:29 PM
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The boys are home.

Sometimes Momma needs a couple of days to herself or she’ll lose her ever-loving mind.  It’s true.  Unless you’re the sort of person who thrives on non-stop conversations with two-year-olds (which sound something like this:
“Red truck, that’s a red truck?” 
“Yes, Rosco, that’s a red truck.” 
“Wheels?  It has wheels?” 
“Yes, Rosco, it has wheels.”
“Black wheels?”
Yes, black wheels.
“Red truck, that’s a red truck?”
”...”).

Rosco can be good company, but he can wear you down over time. 

Scott packed him up on Sunday and took him east to visit the paternal relations for the holiday.  I stayed home to cook and clean.  That doesn’t sound like much of a vacation, but there’s something cathartic about playing your music loud, leaping around like a sprite, and getting stuff done in half the time it normally takes because you don’t have a toddler trying to subvert your plans.  Rosco is good at subversion, too.  He can tell when I’m getting upset at him for not listening.  Frequently I’ll ask him to stay downstairs in the family room so I know where he is and so I can see him.  Occasionally, he’ll sneak out at times when I’m up to my elbows in some sticky task and I find myself scolding him.  He’ll try to make me feel guilty by telling me he was sneaking around so he could hug me.  (I’m serious.)

Anyway.  When they’re gone I worry and miss them, but I need a bit of time to myself every now and again to recharge my batteries.

Posted by Tiffany on 05/26 at 09:23 AM
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Tease!

You know, I was just sitting here balancing my checkbook and almost gave myself a heart attack.

Tell me why the hydrangea I bought at Home Depot yesterday rang up at $21.99.  Seriously.  It’s a little plant that’s less than a foot squared.  $21.99.  Really.  I got that damned thing off a shelf that said something like, oh, $12.99.  That was the only type of plant on the shelf and the damned tag SAID hydrangeas. 

*taps fingertips on desk*

Yeah.  That kind of crap really pisses me off.  It’s already in the ground so it’s not like I can take it back and bitch.  That thing better grow into the bushiest bush in the neighborhood or ... or… well, I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m mad.  That’s what I get for not watching the cashier.

(You’d better believe I filled out the survey from the link on my receipt.  I told them real good what I think of their pricing signage.) 

Posted by Tiffany on 05/24 at 12:36 PM
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“Point your wee-wee down.”

Rosco’s potty training has taken a detour.  By “detour” I mean “diverted and yanked to a screeching halt.”

Since my surgery and numerous other unscheduled events I just haven’t been feelin’ it.  I haven’t had the energy to remind Rosco to take his soggy self to the potty every thirty minutes.  Occasionally I’ll call out to him: “Rosco, do you need to potty?” and he’ll say “Ummm, no thanks,” and continue to push his cars around.

He just won’t go when his bottom is covered up, and I haven’t felt like being so proactive as to let him go commando again.  He will plead to sit on the toilet at naptime and bedtime, though.  I guess he doesn’t like the idea of sleeping wet.

Wednesday night as we were going through the bedtime routine I had set him on the potty after we’d read his library books and had walked off for a couple of minutes to toss some things in the laundry.  By the time I rounded the corner of the hallway again I heard him telling me “Pee-pee on floor.”

Apparently even when you’re sitting down to pee your aim can be off and he had missed the splashguard on the potty seat completely and peed on the hallway floor.  I guess it took him a moment to realize that his socks were getting wet.  So, that was fun.  I had to remind him, yet again, that he needed to point his boy bit down when he goes or else turn himself into a fountain o’ yellow.  I couldn’t really get too upset over it, though.  I knew he hadn’t done it on purpose (though I’m sure the thought has crossed his mind) so I put him in a new pair of pajama bottoms and sent him on to bed while I cleaned up.

I wonder why I bother putting him in training diapers at all if he’s too lazy to take himself to the freaking bathroom.  I could go back to regular diapers and save myself a few cents per unit and get that extra absorbency.  But, having to put that kid on a horizontal surface to strap him into a regular diaper is murder on my back.  My posture has been so much better since he started stepping into his diapers instead, so I’ll just have to suck it up and take it on as a sacrifice.

Since we’re going “kamping” next month, I’d like to have him somewhat potty trained so that if we need to stop and pee he’ll go when we go, but that’s adding another factor to the mix - peeing in public bathrooms.  Why is this so complicated?  I *almost* wish he were in daycare so that THEY could train him.  *almost*, I said.

Anyhoo.  My peeps at Parent Bloggers wants to hear about your potty training stories this weekend.  They’ve teamed up with the Pull-Ups Potty Project (check out the real-people potty training videos) to offer some great prizes to a few lucky participants.  Go take a look!  You might win a video camera to capture your own little tyke forgetting to point his wee-wee down, or if you’re quick - a free pack of Pull-Ups.  Who wouldn’t want free Pull-Ups?  That’s crazy if you don’t.

Posted by Tiffany on 05/22 at 09:24 AM
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Kids under three are *always* free.

Durham has a pretty spectacular kid-focused science destination in Museum of Life and Science, and fortunately for us generous contributions allow county residents to visit for free on Wednesday afternoons.  Rosco was itching for some stimulation yesterday so off we went after our lunch battle (he played with it, so I threw it away).  I had to tell him very early on that if he started acting funky we were going home, so that sort of helped keep him in check (as did asking “I’m sorry, are you whining?”).

Rosco tends to fixate on things so sometimes it’s difficult to keep him moving from one exhibit to the next.  If he sees a block anywhere around we hit a huge speed bump.  That kid is attracted to blocks like flies to poop.  The picture above is him stacking some Kapla blocks.  Those blocks are used in educational scenarios (and competitions, I think) where people make really intricate structures and designs.  The museum has several stations where people can sit and try to mimic designs on their own, but Rosco just likes to stack and unstack them.
There’s a lot to see there so I tried to hit up the areas we hadn’t spent a lot of time in before.  There’s one exhibit upstairs that uses a technology where sound waves (or something?) measure your height and I stood inside just for giggles.  I didn’t laugh so much when it pegged me dead-on at 5 ft 1.25 in.  (Rosco didn’t like the loud reverb from the voice inside the chamber and had a mini freak-out.)  There’s another exhibit where you can try to build an earthquake-proof building and then press a button to shake the table to see if your structure still stands.  I had to bribe Rosco away from that one with the promise of seeing animals.

The museum has a small zoo with sheep, a lazy pig, some barnyard birds, a couple of goats, and a bunny.  It was warm yesterday so the poop smell was particularly pungent, so we didn’t hang around much and opted to go explore the butterfly house.  Rosco actually got to touch a live one that was resting on a leaf nearby and tried picking it up by its wings before I could stop him.  Fortunately it flew away unscathed, and the kid now knows that butterflies in real life move.

Fortunately, all the walking around tired him out so by the time 7:30 rolled around last night he was out like a light.  Thank you, Museum, for my peaceful evening.

Posted by Tiffany on 05/21 at 01:55 PM
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Various mini-rants.

Because it’s Wednesday and I’m beginning the feel stress from the pile-up of stuff that I need to get accomplished this week, here are a few things eating away at me.

1) I was at Subway on Saturday picking up a sandwich for Scott and when I walked in a dude standing next to the soda machine beckoned me over.  Normally I don’t respond to random men’s salutations, but since he asked if he could ask me a question I figured I’d see how creative he could be.  Turned out he wasn’t hitting on me.  He wanted to know if I was growing my hair out for something (e.g. dreadlocks or twists) and I told him that, no, it just looks this way.  He wanted to know who cuts it for me.  No one, duh.  He asked if he could cut my hair - apparently he worked at the barber shop next door.  I tactfully explained that my current crazy-looking state is due to my “big chop” back in November and that I’m growing it out.  I don’t really care what it looks like.  He understood and asked me to remember him if I ever changed his mind.

No thanks.

2) Idiots who drive the wrong way down one-way passages in parking decks.  DURRRRRRR.  Just because it’s a hospital doesn’t mean you can drive like you have shit-for-brains.

3) Blood draws: I called the nurse line at my OB office yesterday to find out what the deal with my hCG levels was and she reassured me that my levels from last week’s test were waaaaay down from the one from two weeks ago (went from 1000-something down to 220).  So, although I had a positive HPT on the 19th, chances are my levels are pretty low this week.  She suggested I go ahead and do the test again today and I probably won’t need to go back next week.  Awesome.  I won’t elaborate on the inefficiency there is about driving to the hospital, parking a half mile away (and paying for it), and having a test done that takes 45 seconds.  They should have sent me to the freaking off-site clinic.  (by the way - little PSA for you: the Dollar Tree on University has OPKs now.  I thought they were an urban legend because I never saw them, but they had them.  I bought a couple just for the novelty factor.)

4) My car needs to be vacuumed.

5) ANTS.  They’re back, and my kitchen is sprinkled with cornmeal as a result.  Someone told me to try it and I’ve since learned that when the ants eat it and then drink water it expands in their bellies and snuffs them out.  Meanwhile, the cornmeal won’t harm the kid or cats.

6) Rosco refuses to nap, however will toy with me by passing out on the sofa close to dinnertime.

7) I hate that we don’t have grass in our yard.  Yeah, it’s green and all, but moss and clover isn’t really nice to walk barefoot on.

8) I wish the cats would hock up their hairballs somewhere other than behind the laundry room door.  You don’t know how many times I’ve almost stepped on a hair log when carrying a laundry basket out there.  Can’t they barf in their litter boxes?

9) I think my house is dirty, but I’m not sure.  I need something to compare it to.

10) I hate that every time I walk out of the main library lately the freaking sensor goes off because some book hasn’t been scanned correctly.

Posted by Tiffany on 05/20 at 10:23 AM
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My son the antisocialite.

Depending on the venue playdates can be unbearable for me so I have to henpeck and eliminate certain events from consideration altogether.  Rosco just doesn’t have a profound desire to be around other kids (that he’s made known to me, anyway).  At home playdates where there are lots of other children he sort of finds himself one interesting toy to play with and sticks with it to eliminate the socialization factor.  If you attempt to encourage him to interact with other kids he’ll cling to my (or Scott’s) leg like velcro.  It’s not particularly worrisome to me as I had a similar dysfunction growing up, however mine was alleviated somewhat by having an older sibling who could act as a bridge between me and strangers.  I know it’s just a component of his personality, and I can’t force him to be what he isn’t.

Still, sometimes I try to get him out around other kids to get him adjusted to having playmates.  Anything I can do to steer him away from the track of being a teenager who sits in a dark bedroom playing online roleplaying games all night every night is probably a good idea.

Today there was an age 3-5 storytime at the library and I figured that being around some slightly older kids would do him good.

Not.

He wouldn’t sit on his little cushion on the rug with the rest of the kids (even though I was sitting right behind him in a chair) and would only sit on my lap.  Granted, some of the older kids were running around like banshees, but still.  He wouldn’t perform any of the movements with the songs the librarian was singing (and I know he gets it - you’d better believe that if Dora the Explorer asks him to jump, he’ll not only jump but ask her “How high?”).  He wouldn’t clap.  He didn’t want to play with the percussion instruments (I gave him some bells, and he threw them back and the bucket and ran away).  I get it - he doesn’t want to “perform” for people.  Seeing as how I’m the kind of person who will lipsync during hymns at church, I can’t fault him for it.

During the craft project at the end, he was supposed to make a crown out of construction paper, glue, and glitter.  Yeah, well, I did most of the work for him because I don’t want glitter all over my car, but then he didn’t want to wear the crown like the other kids.  He smacked it back on the table and walked away.  So, I wore the freaking crown.

At the end the librarian gave all the kids a hand stamp of a crown to go with the royalty theme for the day.  Rosco looked at it (with an eyebrow raised I’m sure) and asked me to take it off.

So.  That went well.

I’m going to see what else is on the library calendar.  Perhaps something that’s specifically geared for 2’s, but I don’t know if it’ll make a difference.  He might need something that’s small group where he sees the same kids frequently.

Posted by Tiffany on 05/19 at 02:27 PM
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Cutest picture book evah.

When the kid and I go to the library I normally pick out books for him (on the rare occasion he can pull himself away from the wooden puzzles he might contribute to the book pile).  First I raid the “New Releases” shelves and take the ones that have less than ten fingerprints on them.  New is good.  Then I work my way through the rest of the books, pulling out books of a certain thickness and glancing inside at how much wordage is on each page.  There’s not much more organization than that.

Chicken and Cat Clean Up by was one of the new books and I snatched it without looking inside.  I’m glad I did - it is the cutest.  Book.  Ever.  But not “newborn puppy” cute - more like “iPhone with a pink cover” cute.

Posted by Tiffany on 05/19 at 07:00 AM
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I need a bucket.

I hate this post-pregnancy crap.  I’m running a low-grade fever (99.1) and am sweating like I just ran a marathon.  It’s only 72 degrees in here, per our thermostat, and in general I need heat to be comfortable.  I need at least another eight degrees before sweat enters the picture usually.

For those of you just popping in and not privy to what the archives said, on May 4 I had surgery to remove an ectopic pregnancy.  I was about 5 1/2 weeks along, so I was still in the very early stages when it was caught.  One would assume that since it was so early that my body would regulate itself fairly quickly - like a late period.

APPARENTLY NOT.  (I could elaborate, but won’t for reasons I can only explain as “TMI.”)

The doctor at the hospital never got around to calling me back last week with my blood test results (she was in surgery when they paged her), and I’m not the kind of chick that’ll hound someone.  I took a cheapie home pregnancy test the day after and it said I was still pregnant, so technically I know one thing the blood results say.  What I don’t know are my HCG levels and whether they’re going down.  I suppose I’ll go back again on Wednesday for another blood draw, as scheduled, and then call my doctor at the off-site practice to find out the results.  Or, I can go say “Hi” to my friends at Dollar Tree and spend a buck on another test.  No line, no blood draw.

Posted by Tiffany on 05/18 at 02:08 PM
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Dare to be nice.

I took Rosco to a play date on Saturday with a couple of moms frommy local mommy collective and we hung out at Duke Gardens feeding the ducks and geese cracked corn.  While we were there (keeping an ever-vigilant eye on the more aggressive birds), a group of women wearing fairy wings swooped in carrying baskets of goodies.  They were handing swag out to the flock of little kids hanging out around the pond.  Some of the little girls got fairy wings of their own and all of the little boys got fruit-scented bubbles:

The ladies hung out for a while, helping the kids blow bubbles and chatting the mommies up.  It was sort of like a breath of fresh air (I know that sounds weird coming from someone with snark-colored blood).  They were just nice and they didn’t have any motives (e.g. proselytizing or solicitation).

In addition to the treats they gave the kids they also gave parents a little green fun fairy dare card (see above).  On the back they’ve listed a bunch of fun things that families can do for little or no money.

I don’t know if these ladies are part of some organized group or church (there’s none listed on the card), but it just felt nice.  I’ve done some Googling this morning to find out if this is just a local thing, but no luck.  Such a great idea.

Posted by Tiffany on 05/18 at 09:26 AM
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Dark o’clock.

It used to be that when people told us that their little kids woke up at ungodly hours on the weekends (like, oh, 8 am) Scott and I would roll our heads back and laugh uproariously.  Our kid didn’t do that.  He was a beautiful sleeper and would sometimes have to be poked awake mid-morning.

Now?  Not so much.  He wakes up early so he can get into things while we’re sleeping.  Last night we had to finally just lock him in his room and hope he didn’t dump the contents of his drawers out or climb on the stuff in the closet.  We had a difficult time putting Rosco to sleep because he and Scott had made a trip to Le Target and brought home a Cars boxed set.  Rosco didn’t want to go to bed and we had to tell him that when he wakes up he could play with the cars.

Well, guess who was knocking on his door at 7 am asking “Cars?”

This does not bode well for Christmas morning.

Posted by Tiffany on 05/17 at 07:16 AM
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My Best View

I’m the sort of fiction writer that needs to be inspired by sights and sounds to be infused with creative energy.  I can’t just sit in a boring, quiet room and brainstorm until something comes to me.  I can’t write about what I haven’t experienced or what I haven’t felt.  Many of my story ideas come to me when I’m out and about doing mundane things (like shopping at Dollar Tree) and talking to regular people.

Sometimes I walk around my yard looking at flowers and trees to give myself some fodder for scenery and setting.  In fact, the short story I’m currently working on was inspired by one of my pitiful flower beds.

That’s why I write sitting at the kitchen table instead of my fancy black desk.  There’s a big picture window in our kitchen and when I find myself at a loss for words I look outside at the trees and try to put myself somewhere else.  In the summer the greenway is filled with foliage and I feel like our house is surrounded on all sides by woods (it’s not).  During the winter the back yard is barren and I can see straight across the drainage ditch to the commercial park a few thousand feet from the subdivision.  Either way, when I look outside the window I put myself in the shoes of the character I’m writing about and wonder what they would be pondering as they see they same view.

This weekend Parent Bloggers and Windex Outdoor are asking about our best views.  That picture of the trees and sky from my kitchen window is mine.  I can pretend I’m in the sticks where so many of my stories are set.

What’s your best view?  If you want to play along on your blog (and have a chance to win a Windex Outdoor kit or a $250 Visa gift card) check out Parent Bloggers and get your post up by Sunday.

Posted by Tiffany on 05/15 at 10:52 PM
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