Birth Story to Come...

The newest one arrived this past Wed April 8, at 6:35 AM. 6 lbs 12 oz, 20 in long, blah blah blah. I'm writing up the birth story--which includes a fantastic best-ever home birth but not sitting in the pool--but in the meantime a list of things I love about becoming disenchanted...

--Heartburn instantly and completely gone
--Brushing my teeth and swallowing pills with nary a concern about gagging
--Eating normal sized meals
--Breathing without thinking about it
--My rediscovered bladder capacity
--More normal digestive function in general
--Chocolate
--Massive dry skin relief within hours
--Turning in bed without having to make a plan (unless flanked by children on both sides)
--Sleeping well (makes up for the reduced sleep time)
--Toting around a little football-sized bundle...and being able to set him down for a bit

The last one makes me chuckle a little bit. On Friday night the Cat Daddy and I caught up on our Thursday night TV lineup, so once His Highness was in bed we took the little one downstairs, popped him in the pack & play, and flipped on the TV. I was able to do some much-needed stretching, and then I kicked back & relaxed...for about 2 minutes until I retrieved the kiddo from the pack & play and THEN returned to my seat to kick back & relax. The Cat Daddy grinned knowingly & said, "still can't leave a kiddo down, can you," and doggone it, he's right. The pack mentality must be so firmly ingrained in me that it's become permanent...

Success by Effort Alone...

This post by Camille struck just the right nerve with me. I've never considered myself a fundamentalist, per se--I go by the less official term of "recovering church kid"--but boy do I fall into these patterns sometimes. Maybe I need to take up gardening, just for the therapeutic value...

Click here.

Conversations With Mom, Part II of III...

We've been calling my mom each week lately, to tell her that there's nothing to tell her. This is so she won't worry. Or won't worry as much anyway.

Over the weekend we had the opportunity to go bowling. With other people, no less. This is amazing progress on the social front. I am really liking the church we've been going to lately (the slightly more churchy one), and we seem to be hitting it off well with the Cool Couple and the small group they lead. I can't speak for the Cat Daddy, and I'm afraid to make anything official, lest something change (because heaven forbid something change and I have to give an update) and we get stuck church hunting again...but we just might have found our church here. Maybe.

Last week we were invited to the small group and had a lovely time sitting in a circle and talking about spiritual things, and then this week it was bowling night. We were invited back, which I took as a very good sign. I think all but the Cool Couple are military folks, so we smuggled them in & went to the bowling alley on base, where it's a buck a game on Sundays. Nice. They have Fat Tire Ale at the base bowling alley, so the Cat Daddy asked the group leader "Any concerns among the group with my having a beer?" to which the leader replied, "Probably not, the other guys are over getting some now." Another very good sign. I don't drink beer, but it's nice to know I could and my spiritual status wouldn't be in question.

My only concern with bowling was the sore state of my hips, and frankly the concern was well-placed. When all was said & done I was quite sore, and gimped my way home, whining pathetically about how the belly needs to go away so my ligaments can tighten up again and I can stop feeling all noodly and klutzy.

So back to Mom...in the process of sharing nothing new we mentioned the bowling. And the beer (just to freak her out a little bit). The responses to both were equally entertaining.

Regarding the bowling: "Oh Skerrib, does your midwife know you were bowling?"

Me: "Well, she's been encouraging me to be active as long as I'm not hurting myself, and bowling is pretty low-risk so I think she'd be pleased."

Mom: "But what if your fingers got stuck in the holes or you tripped and fell forward and got dragged down the lane by the ball?"

Me: A moment of careful, contemplative silence, followed by "Because that happens all the time so I can see how it would be a concern for me now."

Mom: "It could happen."

Me: "Well, I was very careful to choose a ball where the holes were big enough for my fingers, and I did take it easier than normal, and I managed to make it through the night without falling, so I think it all turned out alright." (I didn't tell her that the guys were poking fun because every time I let go of the ball it made a little "Pop!" as my fingers were leaving the holes)

It's conversations like these that give me amazing insight into some of my quirks. There is no doubt, regardless of nature or nurture, from whom I inherited my propensity to worry.

Regarding the beer: "You drank beer at a church function?!?!"

Me: "He drank a beer at the bowling alley, yes."

Cat Daddy: "Hey, Jesus turned water into wine."

Mom: "That was actually grape juice."

Me: "No it wasn't." (debating how far to get into that can of worms)

Mom: "That's what the Duggars' pastor said."

Us: "He's wrong." (not very far, it turns out)


Me: "Besides Mom, I had root beer, so don't worry."

Mom: "Well..."

Springtime in Cheyenne: The Aftermath...

Today dawned sunny and cold. The day's objective for everyone in the neighborhood was to dig their way out from under the drifts. Officially I think the final tally was 10 1/2 inches of snow; however, because of the wind some areas were barely dusted while others were several feet deep. I was still wiped out from my 45-minute stint shoveling the dogs' path yesterday, and I felt like a total wuss because of it, but then again I am 9 months enchanted these days, so it was one of those times where I had to send the guys out to to the heavy work while I provided photo documentation and moral support...

The front of the house (duh). As a point of perspective, the drift on the right behind the Cat Daddy's kick-a$$ car was about 3' high.

Off the front porch. In yesterday's pics of this same spot there were some nicely-flocked bushes. Even though you can't see them, they are still there. Under the snow.

His Highness is always glad to lend a hand. The shovel is real; it has a telescoping handle and one would normally keep it in the trunk for snow emergencies. Turns out if we leave the handle short it fits him perfectly. Quite possibly the best $10 I've spent on snow removal equipment.

The guys working on the back deck. The drift on the left is a good 3 feet high or so.

The finished product out back.

Big kudos to the Cat Daddy and His Highness for their efforts. This was not an easy job, but our driveway and sidewalk are clear, and the dogs can get to the yard instead of having to use the deck. Which is good 'cuz now I am less likely to get stuck de-pooping the deck. Yuck.

Springtime in Cheyenne...

These were taken today. April 4. Palm Sunday tomorrow, Easter in a week. Just saying...

This is our view straight out the front door. The gnome at lower right got a good dusting. The footprints along the front walk show where I walked out and thought "this isn't too terribly bad," until I was no longer shielded from the wind by the house and decided "this is completely ridiculous."


A little to the right, off the front porch. This one shows the beauty of snowstorms. Everything appears tranquil because you can't see the snow being blown sideways at 30 mph as it falls. The wind creates drifts, so it's hard to judge how much snow has truly fallen at this point. The houses across the street have a light dusting on top. The porch itself has probably 4-5 inches...

...and the deck in back has about 2 feet. His Highness and I spent 45 minutes or so shoveling out a path so the poor dogs could get out the door to do their business. Because the snow was piled deeper than they are tall. See how even the dugout path is starting to reaccumulate 30 minutes or so after we finished. This assures there will be more shoveling fun. I think by then it will be the Cat Daddy's turn though.

And finally we have Peter Pan in his oh-so-Euro boy tights after our shoveling extravaganza, on our way downstairs for a rest (some of us are finding shoveling more tiring than normal these days). With a pair each of jeans and snow boots over these, he stayed cozy warm the whole time we were out in the zero-degrees-with-windchill fun.

Am I mad about the snowstorm? No, not really. Other than the wind it's not so bad, and it probably won't be long before we have more spring-like temps again. The only big annoyance of it is that we are missing out on the (indoor) egg hunt on base, since we don't really feel like going out in the mess...

April's Fool...

I will probably think of a spectacular prank to pull for April Fools Day...tomorrow. That's just how I roll much of the time.

Instead, click here to learn about the obscure history of April Fools Day, and see some of the most successful and widespread pranks of years past...