Miscellaneous T(uesday)

I'd call this Ten for Tuesday, but some days all that counting just seems like too much trouble.

Also, does anyone listen to cassette tapes anymore? Cause I don't. Even though there's a tape deck in our van. And when we bought the van more than two years ago I thought "Hey, that's cool. Maybe I'll get reacquainted with all my old tunes." But I never have because I don't know where all my tapes are. I think they're in the attic. I'm sure I didn't throw them out. There's lots of good stuff there. You know, good stuff I haven't listened to in decades, like They Might Be Giants' Miscellaneous T. Good stuff that until moments ago, I didn't even know I missed! And I can't even listen to the Amazon samples just to scratch that nostalgic itch cause Grace is asleep just a few feet away. The torture!

Oh look! Headphones!

Also, I'm not sure why, but listening to TMBG always reminds me of my cousin Wood. I mean, I know Wood likes(ed?) TMBG, but so does (did?) all the other weirdos (myself included) in my family. What's up with that?

Anyway, thinking about Wood reminds me that I discovered recently while reading my old blog entries (cause I'm a dork like that) that I neglected to link to his blog when I made my tacky little announcement a couple months ago. And his cute wife, Woodine, is pregnant, and is definitely one of the cool kids. Apologies to Woodine, and any other cool kids I missed. What do you want? I'm pregnant, I forget things.

Speaking of being pregnant and forgetting things, I don't think I've remembered to tell you we're having another boy. Cheers all around!

The sonographer gave me this completely indecent photograph, just in case anyone asked for proof. Kids don't get mad at their parents for showing off nudie pictures before the kids are even born. Do they?

And here's your more traditional studio shot. Look closely at his profile and you'll notice a resemblance to Grace and Sam (and probably every other baby ever photographed in utero). Cute, huh?

Speaking of cute new arrivals, here's Coach's.

After many years of faithful service, our blue Prizm died. (If you look closely you may be able to see its corpse still taking up half the garage.) Our generous friends, Jason and Amber, loaned us their car while we searched for a replacement. And it's a good thing too, cause our search took forever, mostly because we couldn't decide what we wanted. We (and by "we" I mostly mean Coach, cause I was all "whatever, dude.") swung from "we'll lease a new Prius," to "let's buy this Escort for $700 off craigslist" and back again. In the end, we landed somewhere in the middle, with a 18-year-old (but pampered) Miata. We immediately had to sink $800 into replacing the brakes (which were original to the car), but even at that we feel like we got a good deal. Coach finally enjoys his drive home from work, and even drives the back roads so he can take the top down. And after days like he has, he deserves it.

Speaking of grueling days, imagine what mine are like, spent in this kitchen.

Ignore the mess. And the grinning baby. What I'm referring to is the orange paint on the walls. I've never cared for it much, but lately that mild distaste has turned to raging hatred. It's probably misplaced nesting instincts (I can think of sooo many projects that would be sooo much better for welcoming a new baby. Like, I don't know, mopping the floor or something.), but I am determined that before the end of the summer, this orange will be gone.

But what should I cover it with? This will not be a major kitchen renovation. Just paint, and maybe some curtains. So we have to work with what's already there:

• dark toned reddish brown cabinets with gold hardware (I am willing to paint the hardware, if necessary, but not the cabinets)
• white shutters and trim

• beige-ish laminate counter tops
  
• vinyl checkerboard floor

• black appliances

So far, all I've come up with are cream and light beige. Bland, but neutral. I like the idea of pale green or yellow, but I don't think those will work with the current cabinet color. (And cabinet painting is just more involved that I want to get right now.) I'm totally open to suggestions. So start suggesting, already. Comment section is OPEN!

Feeling Itchy

As some of you may know, I'm quite easily irritated, dermatologically speaking. There are a wide variety of substances that provoke me: fragrances, detergents, mixed metals, weeds, fabric blends. Even hormones get me itchy. Coach teases me because I'll scratch my skin raw, and then spend the next week complaining about that unsightly scab on my schnoz. It's a little ridiculous.

Anyway, the point is, I think it's fair to say that I'm itchier than the average person. And unfortunately, because just about anything -- from a new shampoo to a day in the garden -- can set me off, I've come the see the world as inconveniently full of irritants. EVERYTHING makes me itchy, it seems. I'm probably even allergic to some of you. No offense.

Lucky for me though, I'm definitely not allergic to Coach. It's been seven years now, and as far as Sweetie's concerned, I'm not itchy at all. Not one scratch.




And it's a good thing too, cause seven years is just the beginning.

I love you, sweet Sweetie. Happy anniversary.


PS: Happy anniversary to the Huns (or is it Hons?) also. We love you too!

The Graduate

So Sam's last day of school was last Tuesday, and I'm pleased to report that it went much better than his first day. For both of us. Seeing him there in his little red hat, clutching his diploma made me want to cry. But I didn't.

I have adorable video of him performing in the group musical numbers. I'm tempted to inflict it upon all of you, but it's dark and shaky and noisy and grainy. And although you can still see his adorable little knee bends and fancy jazz hands through all of that, I realize it's all more endearing to a me than anyone else. (Just as V's sobbing and J's hiding behind her hands were probably adorable to V's and J's respective parents. Poor fools.)

But since I'm sparing you the video, the least you can do is indulge me while I brag: In addition to his construction paper diploma, Sam also received the President's Award for Academic Excellence. Since he was the only one in his class to get it, I figure that pretty much makes him the valedictorian of Pre-K.

They did not ask him to give a speech. But he did shake hands with the principal.

Wanna know the cutest thing about it? He was really more excited about the construction paper diploma prop than that silly little certificate signed by the President. He didn't really understand that he got a special award.

The graduation cap, on the other hand, has made frequent appearances in the week since the ceremony. He wore it all day Saturday as we ran around town, and was congratulated by strangers several times. At one point, he asked "Why do people keep talking to me about graduation when I'm tired of talking?"

I was surprised to hear he was tired of talking about it, because he's been really fascinated with all things graduation lately. When I told him that at Grandma and Grandpa's house there are (probably?) a bunch of REAL graduation caps AND gowns that he can try on next time we visit, he wanted to know the full inventory of color choices, and who wore what. Later he asked how people decide what colors to wear for graduation, and we talked about school colors and mascots and all that. I didn't realize he'd taken the whole discussion so much to heart until a few days later when he told me he didn't want to go to high school. It turned out that he was worried that he'd have to wear a cap & gown in a color he didn't like (i.e. not red), and he thought it best just to avoid that risk altogether. I assured him that it'll all work itself out by the time he's in high school. Maybe he'll go to a school that does have red gowns, or maybe he'll have a different favorite color then. He looked skeptical, but has not made further mention of ending his education after eighth grade.

I'm glad. I think he'd miss out on a lot. Although at the beginning of the year I had reservations about sending him to an all-day-every-day program, I could not have asked for a better year. He made lots of friends and soaked up information like a sponge. His teacher, Mrs. S, is as kind and caring as they come, and welcomed not just her students, but parents and siblings into her classroom as well. Grace and I spent so much time there, in fact, that when the graduates paraded down the aisles of the auditorium, Grace climbed out of her seat and tried to join them. She was antsy throughout the ceremony because she just wanted to get up there with the rest of her class where she thought she belonged. And when each of Sam's classmates stood to receive a diploma, Grace would point out her "friend" on the stage.

I'm a little worried about next year, and the years to come, because we probably won't always luck out with great teachers. But no matter whom or what he encounters, I'm pretty sure Sam has figured out he'll have a better time outside the cubby than in it. And I can't really think of a better life lesson than that. Can you?

Princess Grace

(And her brother, Sam.)

I'm proud of the AMA

I just finished an amazing meeting of the American Medical Association. I was elected to a seat on the Council on Science and Public Health, I shook President Obama's hand, and we passed policy that opens the door to a new stance on reform by the AMA.


My campaign was the first really involved campaign I've ever been deeply involved in. There was campaign literature, receptions, lots of hand shaking, and a campaign manager that was so organized it made my jaw drop open more than once. I was elected, by the way, and my man Dave got his pre-election vote counts right within 2%. It was just... remarkable in every way.


As for Obama, that was an experience of a lifetime. As a seated delegate within the House, I was able to sit up front, and as a young person I was able to get in line earlier than most. :-) The result was that I was VERY close to the president. After the last words of his speech were uttered, a rush of people moved toward the barrier just in front of the first row, in order to shake his hand. I climbed over a couple rows of chairs and stuck my arm over some shoulders in order to get my moment, but it worked. I may have lost some dignity and votes in the process, but I just couldn't let the opportunity pass me by. Here is some video and a photo I took with my pocket camera so you can get an idea of what it was like:

Lastly, the AMA passed policy that leaves public options for health system reform a possibly acceptable approach from the AMA's view. This is huge. The organization has long been criticized for obstructing reform, and that's because we're concerned that public systems often elliminate the freedom of physicians to care for their patients as they see fit. I think Obama's speech did a great deal to grease the wheels of progress within the organization. I've met most of the delegates of the AMA in the process of my campaign, and I know first-hand that they have the interests of their patients at the forefront of what they do, rather than their pocketbooks as the press seems to cynically suggest over and over. I'm proud to be involved in organized medicine, because organizations like this can build consensus and do real good for real people. Pass the word along!

Gimme a squeeze, honey bear

For the past several weeks I've been taking Grace to story time at our local branch library. She loves it. She's the youngest regular attendee, and the more mature 3 and 4-year-olds dote on her like little grandmothers. They hold her hands, help her into her chair, pat her back, play with her hair and talk to her in imitation baby-talk. They're pretty cute.

But the best storytime grandmother is actually an aunt: Aunt Honey Bunny. She brings Josh (the only boy in the group) every week. And every week she has a new delicious treat to share with the kids (and parents). Last week it was hand-made chocolate lollipop ducks. My favorite!

I assume that "Honey Bunny" is not Aunt Honey Bunny's given name, but that's what everyone --library staff included-- calls her. I've thought about asking her real name, but that would wreck the charm. I'd still eat a chocolate lollipop duck from Aunt Mildred or Aunt Hortense, of course, but I'm not sure I'd let Grace have one.

And Grace deserves all the chocolate lollipop ducks she can get. And they shouldn't come from strangers. They should come from YOU! The unchallenged favorite! The envy of aunts and uncles around the globe! Yes, you there, with the catchy avuncular* moniker!

Are you the one? Perhaps. Prove it by submitting your proposed nickname below. The winner will receive a chocolate lollipop duck. And also the privilege of choosing his/her own appellation. Instead of one assigned by me.

Good luck, Uncle Chunky Monkey.





*I'm not trying to be sexist here. It's just that avantular is not a word. Take it up Merriam Webster.

You have questions, I have answers

Q: All the cool kids are doing it? Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?
A: Well, yes. I do know a few cool kids who are not, at present, knocked up. But I wouldn't be surprised if they are soon. Cause, seriously, it's an epidemic.

Q: Not to be all nitpicky, but I think you're still exaggerating.
A: You do realize that's not a question, right?

Q: Well, what I mean is, not only are there lots of very cool women who are not pregnant, there are MEN! And they're not pregnant either!
A: Still not a question, but I'll go ahead and answer anyway. Yes, there are lots of very cool women who are not pregnant. And I apologize for any undue pressure I may have put on said cool women to become pregnant. But cool MEN? I'm not sure I know what you're talking about.

Q: All right. Moving on then. So, when are you due?
A: The first week of November. I can't be more specific than that, because keeping track of dates and numbers is more than my addled brain can handle at the moment.

Q: Are you sick?
A: Yep. It's oddly worst in the evenings, which turns out to be pretty convenient because I can make Coach take care the kids while I relax with Judge Judy and a popsicle.

Q: Do you really watch Judge Judy?
A: Yes. And I really don't understand why you don't. That woman is hilarious and terrifying at the same time. I can't think of a single reality show that wouldn't be better with her at the helm. The Apprentice? Finally someone with the guts to fire Donald Trump and his stupid toupee. Supernanny? Naughty kids would put themselves into time out just to escape her scornful glare. And imagine her as a judge on American Idol, or better yet, America's Next Top Model. Can't you just see a the next generation of waifs and popstars sporting lace collars?

Q: Speaking of lace collars, are you hoping for a boy or a girl?
A: Either one. Just not both.

Q: Is that a dollar store pregnancy test?
A: Of course.

Q: What made you take the test? Grumpy? Tired? Just felt a whim?
A: All of the above. Actually, contrary to my usual practice, I did not have a pregnancy test on hand when it first occurred to me that it was time to pee in a cup. So I had to make a special trip to the dollar store to get one. Only, they were out, and Grace was tired of running errands. So I just went on speculating for another couple days, still feeling alternately grumpy, tired and whimish. Finally, I went to a Dollar Tree and bought three. (Do you know they keep them behind the counter now, so you have to ask for them? Apparently there's been a rash of Dollar Store pregnancy test thefts!) But it didn't take three tests to convince me (so I've still got two more in my cupboard if anyone needs them), because those two little lines showed up pretty quickly and clearly. (And because I puked my guts up while I waited for the results.) I realize this is more information regarding the mechanics of acquisition and use of a pregnancy test than anyone could possibly be interested in, so I'll just move on to the next question (which, unfortunately for you, is still on a related topic).

Q: What did Coach say when you told him.
A: "Yay!!! :-)" This is a direct quote, copied from the e-mail he sent in response to the e-mail I sent with this picture.

Q: You used e-mail to tell your husband you were pregnant? What kind of cold, unceremonious barbarian are you?
A: The worst kind. We do a lot of communication via e-mail actually. It's how we keep track of little bits of information we keep meaning to tell each other but never get around to bringing up in conversation.

Q: "Little bits of information"!?! You are a barbarian!
A: I'm not disputing that. But in my own defense, when I found out that I was pregnant Coach happened to be on a two-week business trip. E-mail just made sense.

Q: Oh, alright then. I'll just give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that the news of your other pregnancies was delivered in a more direct and forthright manner.
A: Of course. When I found out I was pregnant with Sam I told Coach in person. (After waiting outside the bathroom door for 20 minutes while he finished reading his new Dell catalog. (It was a really great Dell catalog. (But he was so excited about the news, he put it down to celebrate with me.)))

Q: I see. And Grace?
A: I left the positive pregnancy test on the bathroom counter for him to find when he came home from work. It was hard not to drop any hints, but I kept my cool. It wasn't until he'd been home a couple hours and I KNEW he'd been in the bathroom, that I couldn't contain myself any longer. I asked him what he thought, and he's all "about what?" He hadn't noticed the pregnancy test (despite the fact that I'd cleared all the usual bathroom clutter from the counter so that it had prime positioning). But he certainly was happy when I pointed it out to him.

Q: Are you still typing? How long is this story? Aren't you finished?
A: Almost. I'll just get to the point, which is that given our history, electronic communication is not such a bad way for Coach and me to go. And frankly, I'm a little puzzled by couples who don't e-mail each other frequently. And the ones who share an e-mail address? It's bizarre! Almost weirder than people who don't watch Judge Judy. Why? Why? Why do they do it?

Q: Hey, I'm the one asking the questions here.
A: Oh yeah.