Up-gee mystery: mostly solved

I'm fairly certain that up-gee means hungry. Last night, Squeeze was saying something about being hungry and Starbeans said, "Up-gee!" although not as clearly as he had those two different mornings. Throughout the evening, I kept peppering him with, "Can you say, 'hungry'?" and he said up-gee every time. Again, not as clearly.

It got me thinking. Because I'm so hungry every morning, I often try and get us going on food as soon as we wake up. [We co-sleep, so I get up when he gets up.] I say, "Starbeans, are you hungry? Do you want some breakfast?" several times each morning to start moving towards the end-goal of FOOD. He must have been extra-hungry those mornings, I guess.

Speaking of up-gee - man, am I hungry.
What's new these days???

Up-gee!

What does "up-gee" mean? Up-gee, pronounced with a hard 'g'. On two different mornings now, Starbeans points and the wall and says, "Up-gee! Up-gee! Up-gee!" I tried to get him to show me what up-gee was, but he just brought me to the back room and started playing with his cars. It reminds me of a story my mom told me about myself at that age: she said I came rushing into the room, saying, "Loomy! Loomy! Loomy!" but she had no idea what I was talking about. I was pointing in a specific direction as well, so she had me bring and show her the loomy, which turned our to be the living room. That story makes a lot more sense now that I have a toddler of my own.

I also called one of my grandpas "Pon-tee", while Starbeans calls both his grandpas "Bupa". One of my nieces called my father-in-law "Bah-ta". She also had an imaginary friend named "Creek Boobah". That might be my all-time favorite imaginary friend name. Creek Boobah!! It's just so cool.

I've been feeling well (other than extreme hunger and lots of sleep). There has been no barfing or nausea whatsoever. By this time with Starbeans' pregnancy, I had thrown up at least 10 times [I know, because I kept a Barf Log]. Mostly, I think, because I couldn't grasp the concept of how frequently I had to eat. I am much better about that this time around, forcing something down every couple of hours; but I also think it has something to do with continued nursing. Kellymom has a whole section on tandem nursing and it seems that many women report that their nausea and nursing sickness is diminished or knocked out when they nursed during pregnancy. I don't know if that is true, but it seems to be the case for me; particularly combined with paying closer attention to how frequently I am eating.

However...thinking about it more, I do remember times where I was brushing my teeth and a wave a nausea would hit out of nowhere: I had to fight it with the strictest concentration to avoid puking. That hasn't happened this time. It would be interesting to talk to other tandem nursing mothers, to hear their input. But for now, all I have is kellymom and her survey of 100 or so people.

We are at 10 weeks today! Our due date is October 24.

Another calico post

There are many reasons why I've been so lax on my blog recently. First and foremost, I've been going to bed as early as possible and eating like an overworked ox. [I really should be in bed right now.]

Can anyone guess why? It starts with a "we" and ends with an "ine". Week nine.

Yep! Growing a baby really takes a lot out of a girl. And, (tee-hee) to all my former co-workers - I was only suspecting it at the end of my time at work, not ready to discuss or confirm. Using the infamous "child(ren)" in my farewell email was probably a subconscious mistake. I must say, though, I almost told Viiiiiiiiicky after she gave me her delicious carrot bread recipe and handmade card. I wonder if she saw my secret smile?

Secondly, we have been pounding the boards at home to maximize the amount of work we are able to get done, on many different levels: strategically, logistically, and physically. Much of my mental and physical powers have been drained by the almost-constant push to get things done. We are planning to go FSBO in selling our home, so I have been reading and researching endlessly in my quest to conquer our little corner of the housing market. Not to mention seeking a lender for our new home loan, setting terms for the purchase agreement on the new place, and organizing all of our financial details.

Finally, we've been sick the past week. Squeeze had a sinus infection that he was socking with endless salt washes. Starbeans fell ill after two bouts of congestion, which finally resulted in a double ear infection (our first tangle). I am proud to say that we conquered the beast through garlic oil & mullein ear drops, hot compresses, and keeping the kid in a hat 24/7. I was sick, too, and cleaned myself out with several salt washes and a hot compress. There is nothing worse than all going down at the same time. It is so nice to be [mostly] back to normal; especially Starbeans. It was terrible to see him suffer, rubbing and pulling at his ears like that, not to mention crying and whining incessantly. I understand why (the pain), but dang - it is hard to take.

And now, I must go to bed.

Sleeping cat(s)

Uh-oh

My little darling was joyfully ripping books off the bookshelf while Mama was vacuuming a ceiling and Dada was varnishing a handrail this weekend. Uh-oh - Mama's books! Nothing was destroyed, thankfully. I learned to keep the most vulnerable books a little higher after a beautiful old hymnal had its spine half-ripped off last summer.

Starbeans has his second runny nose in three weeks...such a bummer. We just cleared up the green goo last week, then hoo-haw, its back again. Shucks. At least he's learned to wipe his nose. I can hand him a diaper or a soft cloth and say, "Wipe your nose," and he does it. Today, he was in another room while I was in the kitchen and I spotted him wiping his nose all by himself. Amazing! I love seeing things click in his brain. Sometimes I try new things that I assume are way beyond his ability, just to see if he can do them. He usually can, which leads me to the conclusion that I'm the slow one. I've got to get with it!

I should also say...I am reveling in my new-found freedom from work. Being able to fully focus on Starbeans, our home, and our meals is thrilling! Our house is so much cleaner and I feel a lot less stress. I've also been able to join the playgroup I've always wanted to (but had to work) and have been able to socialize much more. I like it, I love it, I want more of it.

The birds are chirping and the sun is out

It's easy to feel dreamy on a day like today.

Much work, little time

We are in process of preparing our house for the market; in hopes of going rural this summer. Every weekend has been spent balls-to-the-wall, working our little fingers to the bone.

So far, we've replaced the bathroom sink; patched, primed, & painted; half-packed; organized; tossed; cleaned; vacuumed in spots we'd forgotten about for the last 4 years (yikes); and worked on various miscellaneous repair jobs. We are hoping to be ready to list in April, so it is down the the wire at this point. Wish us luck, we still have a long way to go!!

Blogroll

I finally added a blogroll to my sidebar, listing all the blogs I read on a regular basis. I don't know why, but I've always felt resistant to doing that, as if I were exposing myself. But I'm not exposing myself, I'm exposing them!

Lax

I've barely been posting recently. The last few weeks have been a huge transition for us in many ways. For those of you who check in on me regularly, I will post more in the future - I promise.

A quick Starbeans story...
One of our cats [unfortunately] pooped in the corner near our front door last week. We have no idea who the offender is; it happens now and then, but usually in the basement, where it is not quite as shocking. There was quite the exclamation about it when the poop was discovered and Starbeans spent his time pointing at it and saying, "Poooo!" before we cleaned it up. Yes, poo. It, of course, was disgusting. The funny part of the story is, every time the word poop is mentioned since, he runs to the corner, points, and says, "Pooooo!" I'm amazed by his memory.

First day of freedom

Today is my first official day away from cubeland. I'm not feeling it yet - give me a few weeks. With my new-found freedom, I made White Bean with Vegetables, Garlic, & Rosemary soup, chicken stock, yogurt (a first!), and hummus. [I should clarify that the yogurt and hummus are still in process.] It has been a good day.

I've recently made granola too - I never believed people when they said it was easy, but BOY! was it easy. I've made 2 batches in less than a week because we've wolfed it down so quickly. Like my favorite cookbook says, "adding a bit of nutmeg can make it taste downright mysterious"...and so it does.

Many hands make light work (for birthday greetings and Cheerios feasting)

Translation, please

This evening, as we were sitting down to a nice meal of rice with broccoli and cheese, Starbeans pointed to the counter and said, "Wa-oo! Wa-oo! Wa-oo!" For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what he was talking about. He usually says, "Bah! Bah! Bah!", "Tuh! Tuh! Tuh!" or "Cah! Cah! Cah!" and I say, "Yep, you're right - that's a ball [or a truck or a car]."

But this time, it took me a few blinks to figure out what he wanted. I almost thought about trying to ignore him or just saying, "Yep, uh-huh!"; but then it hit me - he was pointing to his sippy cup. So I handed him his wa-oo and he immediately downed a big swig, finishing off with a big, satisfied "Ahhhhh!!!" Apparently, the kid was thirsty.

Note to self:

When chopping onions within arm's length of a toddler who is "helping" you, don't let them touch the onions, even if they want to. The toddler will inevitably rub his onion-y hands in his eyes and all hell will break loose.

You tell 'em, Wendell!!

There is nothing more absurd, to give an example that is only apparently trivial, than the millions who wish to live in luxury and idleness and yet be slender and good-looking. We have millions, too, whose livelihoods, amusements, and comforts are all destructive, who nevertheless wish to live in a healthy environment; they want to run their recreational engines in clean, fresh air.

The Unsettling of America
The Art of the Commonplace - The Agrarian Essays
Wendell Berry

Wendell, Wendell, where have you been all my life?? I don't know if I would have been ready for you 10 years ago, but it would have been nice if you could have telekinetically transported your wisdom to my teenage brain from Kentucky to Stanwood, Washington. I would have listened, I promise.

Reader, if you want to have your mind blown over and over and over again, read this book. One of the main things I like about Wendell Berry, aside from my affection for the fact that he is similar in age to my paternal grandfather (mid-70's), is his shockingly simple and obvious observations on culture and history. His essays are so well-written that it seems like he is stating something that I should have known, but didn't. Things thought about in muddled fashion; theories brewing in my brain; answers only partially grasped; the path traveled these past few years; the importance of asking questions normally tossed to the wayside by the Public: all these things, he states so simply.

Please...read this book.

He didn't get jealous

But he was all over me for milky every time she had her bottle.

Oh, honey

Think of me, if you will. Tomorrow I will be caring for a 7 month old, my sweet toddler, and trying to be quiet for a husband who just started working from 10:30 PM - 7:00 AM. Goodness. I am interested in whether or not the little one will spur jealousy in Starbeans. Heaven knows he gets jealous the instant Squeeze and I hug; he stops in his tracks, squeals an indignant shriek and comes running to break up all the fun. Then we pick him up, Squeeze says, "Group Hug!" and we all snuggle faces and smooch, with his chubby little arms around our necks.

The question is: What will he think when I'm holding a real-life baby?

Off subject, today he said both "onion" and "egg". That's my boy! I would say his vocabulary is stretching into the realm of 50-60 different words. He hasn't pieced anything together other than "Nigh-nigh Dada" and actually, tonight, "I love you" - but it was more like "Eye-you". (We knew what he meant.)

He also says, "Bel-buh" for belly-button and will poke his finger in there saying, "Ow! Ow! Ow!" whenever the subject is brought up. He saw my belly-button today and pointed at me saying, "Bel-buh! Bel-buh! Bel-buh!" Even though I usually understand him, sometimes it takes me awhile to orient myself to what he is saying. "Yes, Starbeans - that's my belly-button," I said, "Oh, ouch...don't poke your bel-buh...that hurts! Ouch" (which inevitably came next).

He is also wild about pinching his nipples simultaneously and pointing at a scratch on his knee, saying, "Ow! Ow! Ow!" The things he gets into...

Winter, as it should be

A scent remembered

A particular smell can oftentimes bring me back to a certain time (or era) of my life. It serves as a vehicle that brings me into memory, acting as a back-drop for mostly-nostalgic daydreaming and remembrance.

• Tea tree oil reminds me of the excitement of reading through The Return of the King at work 4 or so years ago. I had mysteriously contracted ring worm (we think it was through our frequent visits the Humane Society) and was treating it through topical treatments of tea tree oil and garlic pills (which cleared it right up). The smell of tea tree reminds me of Minas Tirith, kingsfoil, the Battle for Pelennor Fields, the Rohirrim, Eowyn striking down the Nazgul king, and feeling dreamy on a winter's day.
• Tazo Cinnamon Tea reminds me of reading The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula Le Guin. The book takes place on a wintry planet and I read it during winter whilst drinking deliciously cinnamony tea. The very smell of it makes me think of sitting with my feet up in a section of empty cubes; savoring my tea, my book, and my break.
• Witch Hazel makes me feel like a brand new mother again: I was using this to help heal my sore perineal tissues right after Starbeans was born. Think babies, baths, and the fresh excitement of new motherhood.
• The scent of my high school gymnasium never fails to make me feel like I am 17 again, climbing up the ladder in the taping room with Eric Jones through several stories of boilers to the roof of the gym - the Christmas lights, feeling the excitement of being with my crush in such an interesting location, and my freezing cold feet (from going barefoot). [As the oldest of 5, I've been back to that gym for many games, baccalaureates, and graduations since leaving high school.]
• Brewing coffee in a percolator brings me back to general youth - elementary & junior high - and church functions. Mingling adults, small talk, and wondering about the prepubescent cute boys.
• Mingled perfumes: you know what I mean -- the very public smell of freshly cleaned bodies and spritzed-on body sprays, all mixed together. It is being young and at church; looking at ladies' hair, the freshly shaven faces of men, little kids running about.

Cuteness Alert

Starbeans calls Gumby, "Dah-dee!"
(always with the exclamation point).

Hindsight is 20/20

Every once in awhile, I take myself on a little Guilt Trip down Memory Lane.

I gave birth to Starbeans on the Nurse-Midwife unit at HCMC in Minneapolis. About half-way through our pregnancy, after reading a lot (and ditching our OBGYN), I leaned toward wanting to do a home birth; but Squeeze wanted a hospital birth for the first time, since we had no idea what we were doing. It made sense at the time. Our birthing experience was excellent: amazing. I would recommend the midwives to anyone.

However, after delivery we were moved to the OB unit: the midwife unit was shut down for cost effectiveness, because there were only two of us there that night. I understood, but I also felt a bit like I was being sent to the wolves. I suppose it isn't entirely fair to judge the OB unit and its nurses in this way, but in all honesty, that was my base feeling.

I do have a few complaints, including being told by one of the nurses, an older woman, "We'd ask you that you don't sleep in bed with your baby"; having to fend off a Hepatitis vaccination less than 24 hours after birth (because newborns really need the Hepatitis vaccine, instead of target populations like health workers, prostitutes, and heroin addicts); and the constant interruptions, making sure both baby and I were still alive [sarcasm intended]. I understand the reasons behind these actions, but...I still don't like 'em.

Now here we get to the part that can make me cry (if I think about it long enough):

I had no idea what to do with a newborn. I didn't know what to do when he cried or wiggled around and snorted; Squeeze didn't either. We were exhausted from the lack of two nights' sleep, feeling like zombified husks of ourselves. Since the nurse had told me not to sleep with my baby and I like keeping the peace (see: ENFP), coupled with my complete inexperience, I wasn't really sure what else to do. I tried rocking the bassinet back and forth, but that didn't help. I may have tried to lay him next to me, even against the wishes of the Dread Nurse, but wasn't really sure what to do with that either. I was tired. Exhausted.

I may sound like a complete dope, totally unprepared for motherhood, instincts gone awry. I'm not sure really what I was. However...

One of the nurses had said, "If you need us to come and bring him to the nursery, so you can sleep, just press this button." So (and this kills me) - I did.

"Oh - great," said the nurse, "I was going to come in and check his vitals anyway." She also, for some reason, needed to completely undress him - so as he was wheeled from our room, I could hear him wailing all the way down the hall. I was in the bathroom; sore, bruised, and bloodied, sitting on the toilet, smelling raw flesh and blood [the scent I equated with him at the time] and bawled my eyes out. It was the kind of weeping that came out of the marrow of my bones - deep, wide, and suffocating.

I sat there and cried by myself, foolishly thinking that Squeeze was asleep on the pull-out armchair. He wasn't, and soon I felt a comforting hand on my back, Squeeze telling me that I had made the right choice - what else could I do? I needed to get some sleep so I could take care of him tomorrow. His compassion was strengthening, even if I knew our reasoning was completely whacked out.

Through hindsight, I understand that we were inexperienced. We honestly didn't know any better. I know that Starbeans is not tainted or tarnished from that experience, nor will he even probably think much of it (until, perhaps, he has his own children). Its negative effects are mine alone. I also realize that I will be knowledgeable and prepared for our next baby: understanding and experience will be mine. I will do everything within my influence and power to orchestrate a home birth. I want to be in the comfort of my own home, empowered by my own decisions, surrounded by my family, and free to recuperate on my own (in my own bed).