Wednesday, August 22, 2007

 

The Curious Incident of the Rat In the Daylight

We were the talk of the cul de sac yesterday – particularly with the under-six crowd.

Everyday, around 3, the neighbor kids start coming around to see if Bekah can play. No matter how many times I remind them of the sleeping baby, they still ring the door bell. Dave says that we should put a sign on the door that says, “bekah in” or “bekah out”. I remind him that none of the kids can read yet.

But I digress.

So yesterday, they rang the bell and knocked with a greater vigor. The reason? The neighbor kids found a dead rat in our lawn.

This is big happenings when you are five.

Jean and I went out and took a look, and sure enough, there was a dead rat in the lawn. It didn’t take long for a few parents to come take a look as well.

We waited for Ron to get home to take it away.

I try very hard to teach my daughters that anything a man can do, a woman can do too. But deep down, I have to say, I believe that there are certain things god intended for men to do – like clean up rat carcasses from the grass.

Before Ron could take care of it, some of the kids from the cul de sac over pedaled by. News travels fast, I guess.

After Ron disposed of the rat, he talked to Art, who talked to Harry and we discovered Harry was the one who has put rat poison in his crawl space.

One of the little kids said, “eeewww that’s gross that you have a rat in your yard”. I wanted to say to him, “For the record, this is Harry’s rat. And let’s face it, if he has rats, we probably all have rats”.

But I stayed away from talking neighborhood politics with a four year old.

Our 15 minutes of fame is probably over… but there is still that pesky woodpecker that pecks the side of the house. Perhaps the kids will find that thing in the lawn soon…. One can hope.

Monday, August 20, 2007

 

My World Just Got An Inch Smaller

About a year ago, we were planning a client appreciation event when a man I work with came into my office and told me he was friends with Bill Resler and that we should have him be the guest speaker at our event.

I had never heard of Bill, so my colleague sent me the link to Heart of the Game.

We had Bill speak at the event. He was a huge hit. I blogged about it and a few days later my husband’s brother’s wife emailed me and said that her brother’s company was co-producer of that documentary.

(for those of you trying to keep up – that would be my husband’s brother’s wife’s brother).

A few months later, a board that I am involved with invited Bill to speak at a luncheon.

In comes Pemco…..

After hearing Bill speak, Pemco contacted me and asked if I could put them in touch with Bill to schedule him to speak at Pemco.

Fast forward a few more months.

Now I am on maternity leave and Dave is working on a big job with…. Pemco.

I finally get a chance to watch Heart of the Game and lo and behold…..

My very best friend in the whole world’s DAD is the man who represented Darnellia against the WIAA.

I tried to call her, but she was not home, so I emailed her brother…. Who works at Pemco….

(for those of you trying to keep up, my best friend’s dad represented the girl on the team of my co-worker’s friend who was in a documentary produced by my husband’s brother’s wife’s brother).

At any rate, I can’t say enough wonderful things about that documentary. Everyone should run out and buy it. It should have won an Academy Award. Seriously.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

 

Rebekah Writes Thank You Cards

Last week, Bekah and I sat down to write the thank you cards for her birthday. The plan was that she would draw pictures and write her name and tell me what else she wanted to say in them. Here are how a few turned out…

To Bailey (who gave Bekah sidewalk chalk)

Dear Bailey – thank you for coming to Lexie’s birthday. It was fun playing with you and chasing Trevor. Thank you for the chalk. I love it. I left it in the rain and it ruined. I miss you. Love Bekah.

To Stacey and Aram (who came over for a combined celebration)

Dear Stacey and Aram – thank you for coming over. I loved playing with you and thank you for all the things you gave me. Thank you for watching Daddy play the Wii. He needed the practice. I miss you. Love Bekah.


To my grandparents (who give her a subscription to Highlights magazine). This time, she wanted me to draw some pictures. I resorted to the only three things I can recognizably draw – a snail, a heart and a flower.

Dear Grandma and Grandpa Storm – thank you for the Highlights Magazine. I am very good at the hidden picture puzzles. Here is a story for you. The snail went to a birthday party and saw a heart that was really a balloon. There were lots of twirlies too. I miss you. Love Rebekah.

Sunday, August 05, 2007

 

Pop!

There is a certain irony to the fact that we named our second daughter after the “shot heard ‘round the world” and it was our third daughter that entered this world with a pop.

A week ago today, I was in a deep sleep when a POP inside my stomach woke me up. It was about 1:30 in the morning. I woke up briefly and wondered if it meant anything but decided I would know for sure if it did – and I was really tired - so I went back to sleep.

A half hour later, I woke again to go to the bathroom (which I was doing about seven times a night, by this point of the pregnancy).

My PJ’s felt a little damp, and then I recalled hearing that some women feel a POP when their water breaks.

So I went down stairs and googled “water breaking”. As I was sitting at the little table and little chair (where my laptop now resides so Bek can play on the internet while I lay on the couch), I felt a contraction.

I woke up Dave and told him it was time. We packed the car, alerted my mom, and took off.

It was about 3:00 in the morning by this time, which was really good because 405 has been a nightmare mess of a traffic jam all summer and by the time we were driving, the contractions were six minutes apart and lasting over one minute. There was no one on the road to slow us down.

When we arrived at triage, I was six centimeters. Dave warned the nurse that my births have all been fast, but she didn’t seem to believe / care / mind / hear him.

I was in the room by 4:00 am. By then, I was having contractions every three minutes or so. I ordered up the epidural. The nurse started to prep me and she put the IV needle in the side of my wrist and did it wrong. My arm started swelling and hurt like hell. She called in another nurse who tried again. Good lord! Between the contractions and the needle going into my swollen wrist, I had to vocalize (the doula had told us this was OK). I guess dropping the f-bomb was not what she had in mind. I think I rattled both nurses – and Dave, actually.

It was a little after 5:30 am when I was finally prepped and receiving the anesthesia. The anesthesiologist told me it would last a little over two hours and she would be back to give me another dose.

Things slowed down after that. The contractions were still really painful and I had to use breathing techniques to make it through them. The nurse kept suggesting that I get more pain medication. It was perfect for me though. I still wanted to feel the contractions. I didn’t want to be oblivious to them. I just didn’t want them to be a little less terrifyingly intense.

At a little before 7:00 am, she checked again and I was at eight centimeters. Dave made a quick call to him mom and his brother and when he got off the phone, I told the nurse she should call the doctor. She said she would in five minutes. I told Dave to tell the nurse to call the doctor. Now. I felt the urge to push. She said I was only at eight.

To which I growled (yeah, I growled, there is nothing lady-like about birthin’ – nothing). “I’M PUUUSHIING”

She told me to say POP POP POP.

I started to say POP POP POP -- as I was pushing.

The nurse walked out into the hall way and then another woman came in.

I looked at her and asked if she was the doctor. She said no but she had delivered babies before. I told her good because I was pushing.

The doctor finally hurried in and I said, “I’m pushing”. She asked if she could put her gloves on first.

I told her no.

She sat down in her little chair, and about three minutes later, Jo was born.

After Jo was all wrapped up, the anesthesiologist came back in. She was there to give me another dose in the epidural.

“You have a baby!” she said with her eyes open wide.

“Yep”, I said. She couldn’t believe it.

We’ve been with Baby Jo for one week now. So far, her personality is as easy as her delivery was. She cries very little and sleeps quite a bit (the Le Leche nurse told us we need to wake her every three hours to feed her at night. Dave said we should temper that advice with some common sense). She sleeps about four hours per stretch at night and when she gets up to feed, she goes right back down.

The girls love kissing her and seem to be adjusting really well to having another sister. I’m finally feeling human again. Dave seems to be doing as good as any man can, living with four females (five if you count the dog).

My parents just left and Dave’s arrive in a few days. We’ve been blessed by friends who have brought us meals and helped with a little child care.

I guess all I can say is, so far, so good.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Free Web Site Counter
Hit Counters