January 2010 Archives

Saying goodbye to my brother

By Autumn on January 31, 2010 6:49 PM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

When the Catholic priest anointed my brother's head with holy water, I thought about making a sizzling noise. My mother brought it up later on, something about how she winced when this was done and how she was glad I hadn't made the sound because she might have shrieked. My brother wasn't the religious type. In fact, "Piss on Jesus" was usually his flippant response to all things Christian.

As non religious as my brother and I tended to be, the priest brought me a lot of comfort in those last hardest moments. He talked about studies where people died and came back. How they were surrounded by a loving cloud of light. He talked about his experiences in a hospice when people told him, the day before they died, that a special loved one had come to see them. Whether loved ones are real, whether the cloud of love is real or not--the fact that it was felt more times than not put me at ease. I didn't want my brother to die afraid. So I told him, my last time looking down at his face, "Come for me, Bryan" When it is my time to go, come for me. I'd die happy if I could see you again. I had never felt such peace at the idea of dying as I did in that moment. I leaned forward and kissed his brow, smearing makeup. It was like kissing marble.

Grief is absorbed into my life. I'm still happy. I still have so much to live for, but it swoops up out of nowhere. A crazy longing. A missing that goes beyond that word.

The priest said, we cry for ourselves. We cry because we will miss Bryan. We don't cry for him. Bryan is at peace. Truly, he is at peace. For the last eight months my brother has been depressed to the point of not wanting to live. His life spiraled out of control. First with an addiction to various pills and then, over the last few months, heroin. Only a few days before his death, I found out about the heroin. I called my father and screamed and yelled. I said, if that was my son I'd take his guns and threaten to shoot him if he didn't go to rehab. I'd call the cops on him when I knew he was carrying. I'd do something more! Really, I was scared out of my mind. Every day after that, I had fear and sadness behind everything I did. I functioned on a thin scum of ice over my worries.

When I spoke to Bryan on Thursday I told him, "You need to go to rehab. Get clean. Come live with us. It's a purple room but you'll just have to deal. You're welcome to stay with us as long as you are clean. You just better not smoke cigarettes in this house or I'll break your arms. *laugh*" and then, "I love you, Bryan."

Then at 4:30 on Monday morning, while I slept oblivious, my brother (speeding 40 miles over the posted limit) veered to the left on a very benign stretch of road before a bridge. He hit the guardrail just where it rose up from the ground. His car took it like a ramp, flew, broke a sign, nose dived, and slammed into a tree. He was killed instantly mere feet away from the water. He had gone out to buy a pack of cigarettes.

I still can't quite believe all this has happened. I expected a precipice. A chasm. A scary stretch of road a top a windy mountain--not that. Not a strip of road I've passed many times before. Not a flat expanse of grass. Not a foot high pole of steel scratched and scrapped.

The other night I lay in a panic. My brother hadn't know anyone very dear to him that died. Who has my brother seen? How had he not been confused? Lost? Alone? But then I remembered him crying over our cat Lucky, shaking him, yelling at him not to die. I put my hand on my brother's arm and said, "You have to let him die, Bryan. You have to." Bryan ran into his room sobbing and slammed the door. He was sixteen that year.

I went to sleep smiling as tears leaked down my temples into my ears. I imagined Bryan with an orange cat curled around his feet mewing happily. I imagined him taking that cat into his arms. I imagined them walking into a cloud of light where he'd never hurt anymore.

So this is grief

By Autumn on January 25, 2010 5:08 PM | 3 Comments | No TrackBacks

My little brother passed away early this morning. I am in a state of shock, moving into anger at him, to sadness where I imagine my whole life before me without my brother in it, to numbness again, to memories that make me laugh, to numbness again.

He was 25. I never expected him to be my first big grief.

I don't know how I am supposed to feel or respond or act. Now I know what all those other people felt when they said these things. When someone they loved die. Now I really do understand that there is no right way to be. Mainly I am just angry. Angry at him for being stupid. Angry at circumstance for shitting on him. Frustrated with the past that set him on a path to this day. I'm trying to fight the blame game, but I'm just plain mad.

That puts me somewhere between the first and second stages of grief. Isolation and anger.

I want to crawl into bed and sleep. I don't want to go to his wake or his funeral. I don't want comfort. I mainly just want to be left alone. But there is family and obligation and a series of steps. I don't need to see him to know he is gone. I don't want to cry anymore.

He is in my thoughts every single second since I heard. That seems like torture enough. And in my utter selfishness I want nothing more than that--this terrible knowledge.

I am so mad he left me alone. I can't remember a time without him in it and now he'll never know my second child, he'll never have children of his own, he'll never go gray, and he won't be with me when others die.

Of course, no posting for awhile. I have traveling to prepare for and reserves to scrap to the bottom of to find the energy to get through the next few days.

Now I can say, yes I do understand. I know grief and loss and a sadness that usurps any other. I should have been more thankful of my ignorance.

Seven weeks and some

By Autumn on January 25, 2010 9:36 AM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

Accomplishing anything is becoming a real feat for me, including updating this blog. I've just felt so tired and/or nauseous that I spend my time laying around playing with River in a prone position. I don't write. I hardly get to read. Chores fill up the moments when I feel better which is sometimes the morning, or sometimes after nap or sometimes right before bed. My "morning" sickness is entirely random and without a discernible pattern. I never know what to expect. Like my last pregnancy, I find it frustrating when my body shuts down on me. I don't like to rest. It makes me feel useless and like a slug. I am the type of person that gets up to wash dishes when she is sick with a fever. My first pregnancy taught me the painful lesson that forcing my body past fatigue only leads to vomit and dizzy spells. So I do take it easy. I grumble and complain, but I do it. So far, I haven't puked. If I start to gag, I lay down. Dirty, balled up diapers wait on the top of the diaper pail until I can deal with the stink. Chores stack up until I have the energy to tackle them. It frustrates me, but I let things slide. I put my health first because I know even my stubbornness can't get me through the urges of my body. It doesn't seem like such a small little being should zap me of so much energy, but my kidney bean sized baby is doing just that. Since I am also continuing to nurse River, that is yet more of my resources that are going to someone else. I think I'd be happy to doze in bed all day.

This weekend was particularly frustrating. On Friday I had my first prenatal visit with the OB my insurance assigned to me. She turned out to be awesome. Really laid back with a great bedside manner. She was very comfortable around me and obviously enjoyed her job--even the part where she used the internal ultrasound on me. In fact, I like this OB so much mainly because it was the most comfortable pelvic examine I have ever had. I hardly felt a thing!

Unfortunately, I may not have this OB in labor and delivery. She is one of a team of eight and any one of them could deliver number two. My next visit is the Q&A part. If the hospital has policies I don't agree with, I will likely be hunting for another place to squat and push. The stress is on the word squat. My major thing is that I want to be be able to push in a position other than prone on my back. If the more conservative hospital my OB works at requires feet in stirrups, chin to chest, counts of three--I probably won't be cool with that. **

So, the good news. The baby is healthy. That is baby, not babies. Heartbeat and growth right on track with its dates. I had tons of blood work done and then the H1N1 vaccine. Now the regular flu shot made me exhausted for a couple day afterward. Now add this one to pregnancy fatigue....I spent most of the weekend in bed sleeping.

I feel somewhat better today. Still tired, but I should be able to make it to nap time and sleep with River. Pregnancy crawls along one slow day at a time. I find, overall, *knock on wood* that my nausea is less than it was and my fatigue is much stronger. I feel that pregnancy glow starting. My hair is looking great and my skin as well. As of last night someone turned my internal temperature up a few degrees. I am now comfortable in bed with only a sheet and light blanket. I am becoming accustomed to the excruciating pain of having a two year old latch onto my breasts to nurse. Eventually, the sharp pain dulls once he is in place. I have successfully night weened him (finally) although sometimes he still whines for "nursie" throughout the night. I won't nurse him until Jason leaves for work. Night weening has helped me get more rest since pregnancy has seriously changed my sleep. It takes me forever to fall asleep and I wake up to pee a few times a night already.

I try to tell myself to enjoy this time since this should be my last baby and my last time feeling this. Maybe I will enjoy it more once my second trimester comes around. Because this, this is just plain annoying.

**During River's birth my body began pushing him out all on its own while I was in an upright, kneeling position. The midwife was concerned that my labor was going "too fast" and recommended I lay on my side to push. In much pain, I agreed. Eventually, I ended up on my back unable to move because my legs were literally stuck in place at that point. It took me 40 minutes to push out River with much straining. My body no longer worked with me when I was on my back. All the effort of pushing was on me. Out of everything that happened with River's birth, my pushing position is the one thing I regret. Especially since I was in a birth center that normally encouraged and practiced other, more effective, pushing positions! I really would like to try something else with number two.

Feline Friday: girls

By Autumn on January 22, 2010 9:27 AM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

This is about as close as these two get to each other anymore. Consider this a big loving hug.

Guests

By Autumn on January 21, 2010 6:25 PM | 1 Comment | No TrackBacks

Our dear friends are here to visit from upstate New York. I know I have mentioned them several times. You know, the one who was pregnant when I was pregnant and gave birth to her son three days before I gave birth to River? Yeah, that one. Things haven't changed with out sons besides their height. They still play better with each other than with any other child. It's a wonder to see.

Wednesday: read Elantris

By Autumn on January 20, 2010 9:31 AM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

I can't recommend this one enough. Just a great, great book. The magic and world as so well built and the characters so well done. I especially love the female character who is oh wow smart, manipulative and really moves the story forward. It's a rare thing to read a male writer who does such a good job and gives a female such a hard role in his novels. I think she is, hands down, the coolest most bad ass female I've ever read in Fantasy. Sanderson must have respect for the ladies. The women in his novels always seem just a touch more bad ass than his male characters. I could kiss the man...if his wife was okay with it.

The "bad" guy is not really all that bad. Another favorite devise of mine. Plain bad is just too simple. I like my villains complex and this book gives me that. I am in awe of Sanderson's skill. As soon as I have the energy to tackle the monster novel that is the newest Wheel of Time book, I can't wait to read more of his stuff.

Oh and the end. Perfect. An end that just ties it all together. I think I sighed when I read the last line. Or maybe I said, "Oh, Brandon, you god of writing. Your books are so so juicy. I love your skills with words. HOT!" I don't know. One or the other.

Elantris is a true gift to the Fantasy genre. If that's your thing and you haven't yet read it and don't plan to take my advice, just know I used one of my frequent pregnancy farts and sent it in your direction.

The saga of my butt, yes again!

By Autumn on January 19, 2010 8:39 PM | 1 Comment | No TrackBacks

I was very anemic my last pregnancy and stayed in a fog of exhaustion until this anemia was discovered and treated with iron supplements--the bane of my butt hole. I'm not sure when anemia kicks in, but I plan to ask my OB about it on Friday because though my nausea was almost non existent today, I could barely move and would have spent the entire day happily sleeping on the floor with the sun bathing felines.

There were a few other downers to the day. Some of the day is just too damn depressing to share with the internet in general and also deals with someone who is not myself. I don't mind airing my own dirty laundry, but I don't want to invade anyone else's privacy. So I am choosing to not mention it here, although I wish I could. I am sure there are others out there that could relate.

Instead, I'm going to talk about my third worse poop ever.

My high ranking post labor poop was by far my worse poop experience. It was this poop that required I had to give birth to my second child (the giant turd) a few days after giving birth to River. Even after a hefty lecture by a poor male pharmacist about flooding my body with water and a stool softener, it rose to the position as the most horrible toilet moment of my adult life. I think my mother might have heard me weeping from the other room.

The second worse poop involved a bad run in with a whole pack of string cheese, a public bathroom and my discovery that sometimes dinosaur sized crap made of a mixture of shit and concrete must be passed out of my body.

The third was today and involved me trying to distract a needy toddler hanging all over me while I frantically compared constipation to labor during my battle on the toilet. And really, there are a lot of similarities.

So you can see how very thrilled I am at the thought of more iron supplements. I might need Harry Potter to spell the crap out of my body for me. Poopus Releases, Feces Followitus, Constripationonous Begoneus!

For now I am armed with a new stool softener (and that shit ~~softener~~ is expensive) as well as prune juice.

Keep my bowels in your prayers. I need all the good will I can get at this point.

And while you're at it, send some hope and strength for me to pass on to the hurting, lost person in my life.

and its all coming back to me now

By Autumn on January 18, 2010 8:33 PM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

On Thursday of last week my morning sickness and assorted first trimester woes gathered strength and began bugging the hell out of me off and on all day. Even though I knew very well how ~~super fucking annoying~~ un-enjoyable this part of pregnancy was, my frustrations with feeling besieged by my own body had faded with time.

Listen to me now world---I WILL NEVER DO THIS AGAIN. If I have to take a pair of sheers to my husband's balls myself to avoid a third pregnancy, it will be done. Thankfully, Jason is already ready to run off and have himself snipped. He would practically skip his way there singing a song of joy.

I guess the most horrible part is that my fatigue, coupled with the intense desire to retch comes unexpectedly with no discernible pattern off and on throughout the day. That to avoid being huddled over the toilet, I must stop whatever I am doing and lay like a useless lump upon some flat surface.

I can not eat for the first few hours of the morning. I take a peanut butter sandwich to bed with me and force it down my throat before even leaving the bed. Once out of the bed, there is no eating. I can sip ginger ale and suck on a preggo pop--but food, any food, seems like asking me to spoon hot dog shit into my mouth. My nausea falls and rises. If I sit, I feel better. If I get up, I feel limp and dizzy and ready to hurl. At the back of my throat that metal taste floats. I start thinking about Italian pasta sauce. I turn green. It has become the most vile substance, capable of making me retch at the merest sniff. (Just like my last pregnancy). Don't even let me think about meatballs or I will blow chunks in your face. At some point my rancid pregnancy breath drives me to the toothbrush which requires deep Yoga breaths and will. Toothbrushes also makes me gag now (same as last time) and gagging makes me puke--so the brushing thing happens very quickly to avoid both.

At some point, I feel better and ravenously hungry. Usually for eggs. Hard boiled eggs. A form of egg I usually eat about once a year round abouts Easter time.

Then is nap time and I am usually more tired than the toddler. This is followed by another round of feeling like crap. I usually perk up right before bed, take a long restless uncomfortable hour or more to fall asleep (with at least two trips to the bathroom) and then wake up throughout the night (to pee again) or drink some water (and feel like puking) and then shove some peanut butter sandwich in my mouth (to shut up the stomach).

I don't remember the feeling sick from drinking water/waking up feeling nauseous from my last pregnancy--but I used to sleep wonderfully well pre-River. I can not wait for Spring. Along with my favorite season comes my second trimester. The eye of the hurricane, if you will. A reprieve before I swell to the size of a manatee and then force a infant from my vagina.

You might tell me to enjoy this time. But honestly, I like the sleep deprivation caused by the neediness of a newborn more than feeling like my body has been overcome by six weeks of the flu. Besides newborns are cute and my cranky face, so not.

Feline Friday: cat in the box

By Autumn on January 15, 2010 9:30 AM | 1 Comment | No TrackBacks

This is the bottom to River's puzzle box. Brody stayed in it all day. Cats are just plain bizarre.
Jason just came up to me singing, "It's my cat in a box." Hilarious, if you have seen this little number.

And on another note, I have a little story to tell. One in which Brody plays the part of the asshole.

So it isn't any secret that Mao is morbidly obese. Since moving her bulk has increased. In our last apartment we moved the cats food and water down a set of very steep steps that led to our front door. This forced Mao to do some exercising during her many trips to eat, drink or use the bathroom. This is no longer the case.

She is so fat she can not clean herself and the added bulk or awkwardness of using the litter box is causing many bathroom accidents. We had to wash her in our kitchen sink. This involved me holding her down and Jason scrubbing her bottom with a gloved hand. Meanwhile, as I struggle to hold this cat, who is constantly mewing and panting vile fish breath in my face, Brody comes up and smacks her in the face. Because obviously her fear is annoying to him. As I try to get rid of him while holding a wet, stinky Mao in place--he smacks her three more times. He doesn't give up, no. Instead Brody, and now Babette as well, are trying to beat the crap out of Mao. We spend the entire event shouldering insane cats out of the way.

If we were wondering about Do Baby, she was probably dreaming blissfully in some corner thinking about feathers or getting pets from mommy.

Well, at least Mao doesn't smell like a roving cloud of urine anymore.

Don't take things personally

By Autumn on January 14, 2010 9:30 AM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

A friend of mine brought up a really interesting idea, point, conundrum? I'm not sure exactly how to put it, but whatever it is, it's intrigued me immensely.

Here is what she wrote on her facebook this morning:

wants to know how, if you are personally invested in something, you are not supposed to take it personally...?

My question instantly was, what does it mean when someone tells you not to take something personally? I think it means not to be offended or hurt where hurt or offense is not meant/implied. The term "letting it roll off your back" comes into my head too.

Some people are more sensitive than others and/or lack a strong sense of humor. Then some topics are just too touchy not to take personally. What are people supposed to stay away from in conversation, politics and religion? When people have a lot of passion invested in something, maybe it is harder to "not take it personally".

I used to take everything personally. Second guessing people and finding hurt where hurt was not implied. I was majorly sensitive to teasing. It took my husband telling me that when my friends teased me, they were teasing me with fondness because they cared for me. All that time I thought that they were teasing me to purposely hurt my feelings. It seems laughable now.

Living with Jason has really brought my sensitivity down to a peaceful chill level. I don't take much personally anymore. I'm not sure why this is. I suppose instead of seeing implied hurt or offense, I think about where someone is coming from or the personality I'm dealing with.

I'll use my mom as an example. (Hi, Mom!) When we announced out plan to move to Baltimore my mom had something of a freak out. And even though the freak out upset me, I tried to see where she was coming from. Ultimately, the freak out came from love and affection for her family and an unhappiness that we were moving away.

It makes it easier to forgive hurts and let go of pain when you don't take everything so personally.

So, I was reading a book the other day and it mentioned The Tao. Now one of the few books Jason had kept with him from before he met me is the Tao Te Ching. The book said something like, If you listen to yourself (to your heart/soul/what-have-you) you will always know what is the right thing to do for the betterment of yourself as a person.

Which is true, isn't it? In moments of extreme passion, in extreme "taking things personally" I think we all know we aren't being fair to others or that we are overreacting or making a "mountain out of a molehill". But in the moment of hurt or offended anger--we don't care. We savor the drama and confrontation. Our sense of pride is at stake. We need to prove ourselves victim or right or strong enough to shout another person out and not weakly roll over showing our belly to a stronger foe.

But in the end hurt and anger, both justified emotions, become selfish ones. Because strong hurt and anger turn our eyes inward towards only our own pain and blind us to others. We don't think rationally when we are hurting.

Those moment when I am conflicted. When I worry a situation endlessly for days, I know I did wrong. Even if justified, I know I did wrong. Sometimes I am too much of a coward to confront it, even though I know the right thing to do. I just ball it up and put it in my guilt box and mumble, 'well it isn't as if he's never done something worse to me.' So he deserves it. I shouldn't beat myself up over him.

But really, I should. I know I did wrong. I know I took something personally, that was totally justifiable, and then allowed my negative emotions to dismiss and ignore someone I cared for. I let my own pain do wrong to someone else. Instead of being a decent, thoughtful person. When a situation gets too awkward or potentially hurtful, I'd rather neglect the person than try to fix the problem. It's true.

It comes down to knowing I need to pick up the phone and say, Sorry Dad.

Wednesday: read Peter and Max

By Autumn on January 13, 2010 10:18 AM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

This was a gift from Heather for Christmas and quite unexpected. Though I have a serious love for the comic, Fables--I had no idea there was a novel out there set in that world. Once opened I just was going, "But what is this? What is this?" and once explained I was wondering if I could sneak off into bed with this hot little number for some alone time.

I actually had read the first chapter in the back of one of the comic books and had no idea what it was. Either going from reading comics to text is a hard transition or the first chapter has too much recap to hold my interest--but I was not impressed that first time.

When reading the novel I skimmed the first chapter and started with chapter two. I think the entire books only took me a couple days to read. So good! I just love the way Bill Willingham modernizes and combines traditional fairy tales and nursery rhythms into something new.

This book is about Peter Piper (also Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater and Peter Picked a Pack of Pickled Peppers) and his brother Max Piper (the famous Pied Piper). Little Bo Peep also plays a big role in this crazy rendition of a bunch of stories shoved together into one wildly entertaining novel. An added treat were the lovely ink drawings throughout. It's just flat out a pretty book. Even the front is engraved with art.

It was great all the way through and kept me reading way past my bedtime. A perfect gift for fans of the graphic novels!

The second time around

By Autumn on January 12, 2010 9:29 AM | 2 Comments | No TrackBacks

Being pregnant a second time is way different. Not only do I often forget I am, but I loose count of how far along (or how far along I'm not at this point) I am. I savor not feeling pregnant. I savor fitting in my jeans. I don't simply look forward to seeing The Bean, I also flat out dread it. That's seems horrible, doesn't it? It's just that I know how hard it all is. I know exactly what it feels like to give birth with no drugs and ~~I'm insane~~ I plan to do it again. All those things I couldn't wait for, I can totally wait for.

Not looking forward to feeling the baby move because it's weird and can be almost painful when someone is flipping in your body. Not looking forward to big leaky boobs. Not looking forward to the incredible likelihood of hemorrhoids of astounding size. But here is the thing about pregnancy, the more a baby makes itself known, the more it is loved. So once it moves and hiccups and reveals a demonic face on an ultrasound, my excitement will far outpace my dread. It's kinda hard to be thrilled about a lima bean sized blob with nubs for arms and legs that's presence is making me feel queasy off and on the entire day.

I think I jinxed myself by not feeling pregnant. All I had was hunger and fatigue. One I could simply feed away and the other I could nap away. Daily naps with River are a must at this point unless I want to lay zombie like on the floor moaning and tormenting my husband with my inner bitch.

Over the last few days I've been queasy in the morning only. Breakfast is nearly impossible to eat. Food in general repulses me, even when hungry. So I have to shove it in my gut anyway. I know what happens when I simply give up on eating or sleeping. What happens is overpowering waves of nausea and then a hot flood of puke, followed by painful dry heaves.

Yesterday the annoying metal mouth came. That nasty, sour taste like I rolled a fistful of dirty pennies in my mouth. Still, not as bad as I recall it being with River. At least, not yet. Today was my first day of full on queasy. Well, queasy that comes and goes sitting in the back of my throat along with lack of appetite. The food repulsion comes along with hunger. I had a deep conversation with my body about it in the kitchen while I stared from fruit bowl, to refrigerator, to this or that cabinet and couldn't image putting anything at all in my mouth. How does it make sense to make me not want food when I need food? After forcing myself to eat (If the orange doesn't taste sour, or the ginger ale doesn't make my queasy increase to straight out nausea) I feel better for awhile. If resting, just fine.

Still, this is not me really complaining because thus far, this is all a very much bearable walk in the park. I have not yet sunk to the levels of my first pregnancy. I hope not too now that I am in a situation where I can rest and eat small healthy snacks. It also really helps not to work with adolescent males and their various accompanying odors.

My only other new symptoms are my sore boobs which are already not quite as sore as they were. So toughened, are they, by two years of breastfeeding that breastfeeding with some extra pain isn't unbearable. Though, I suspect, my milk is drying up/lessening as River's appetite has increased without the extra calories from my bosom. I try not to feel guilty about that. It isn't as if he needs my milk to live or that he can't get a treat from colostrum if he continues to nurse. It isn't every kid, in fact it is a rare kid in the United States that gets to nurse for two whole years.

However I look at it, September doesn't seem very far away. It felt like I waited forever for River. This feels like I might wake up tomorrow with a toddler on one tit and a newborn on the other.

Two years and one month

By Autumn on January 11, 2010 10:20 AM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

Dear River,

I wish I had taken notes like I usually do to recall the highlights of each month, but month twenty five has been a hectic one with traveling and holidays. Then your daddy went and knocked me up after he specifically told me there is no way in hell that would happen and to stop whining that I was afraid it would anyway. Turns out this is one of the few instances in mommy and daddy's relationship that I can say 'I WAS RIGHT!' with great gusto. So just keep in mind that it was all daddy's fault that mere days after you turned two a sibling was created to steal your toys and hang all over you begging for your attention. I know that wasn't on your Christmas list, but well... it was all daddy's fault.

getting yourself "stuck" in the chair and insisting you need no help getting out

I think you will make a great big brother though. During a play date where two crawling babies were the only attendees you were attentive and kind to each of them. You shared your toys and sat smiling in front of them. You are always curious about babies. You point to crawling babies when we are out, look at me and smile, while hovering over the baby wondering how you can possibly play with that small child. I hope this kindness transfers over when you see how much time mommy (and daddy too, but mostly mommy at first) will have to give to an infant. Wrapped up with my excitement is a dread of how a sibling will effect you and our relationship. I really don't want to push you to grow up before you are ready. If you still want to nurse when the new baby is here? You can nurse. You still want to crawl into bed with us? You are always welcome. You still aren't potty trained? You'll get their eventually in your own time. Though based on today's demands that I leave you alone to do things yourself, I'm not too worried. You already want your independence.

how mommy attempts to entertain herself while you are eating

We stopped at a fast food restaurant to feed you when we were out one night just because they had a play place and we've all been going a bit stir crazy lately. First you ran a fever, then Daddy got a sinus infection, and during all this my pregnancy fatigue kicked in. Well, you recovered and Daddy and I were still sluggish so a play place it was. You were so excited to get in, but then all these older children entered. Not yet old enough not to move around you or know better than to (gently) push you aside. You were interested but intimidated. I let you climb up alone after awhile and soon your small cries of "Mommy! Mommy!" called me up. You clung to me with both arms. Some children are fine being left alone in situations like that. You are very not, but that's okay. Keep me working. It's my job. Just know that in a few months there is no way I will be able to fit my gut into those plastic tunnels!

you love climbing daddy

A couple of the children in the play place were three and wow, is three way different than two. These kids were talking a mile a minute. A lot is going to happen this year as far as your language development! The lack-there-of compared to these three year olds made me think of how much of a baby you still are. This again led to my parental guilt about being pregnant with another. I keep on coming back to that. Even though it will be hard for us at first and you won't have my sole attention any longer, I think a sibling is a true gift. I hope you'll think so too one day!

Batman baby returns!

This month has brought a lot of questions. "Why?" you want to know. "What is that?" you ask. "Who is that?". My favorite thing is how you mix up verb order. "Where that is?" "River no know what/where that is, mommy." We can sit and you will tell me an entire book. "There is black puppy mommy, hiding." You really like practicing your colors and letters. You know the entire alphabet in capitals, most of the time. You also now know most of your colors and still have an intense love for pink. "PINK!" you explain with awe. If we give you the option of picking something, you pick pink every time. I am afraid that if I birth a girl child you will be horribly jealous of her wardrobe. Although, maybe it will make you like her better.

This month we went to another version of the play zone we went to for your birthday. It's a room filled with air filled bouncers. While other children tumbled and jumped, you danced to the music. You also still do this in the grocery store. We look around and see other parents and shoppers grinning at you. Amidst dancing, you played the drums as well. I swear child, once we get your butt out of diapers, I'll put you in dance classes. You can rock a pink tutu. Mommy won't mind. Daddy might mind a little, but mommy will support your quirks. It isn't as if you don't also get rapturous joy from construction equipment and smashing apart things. In fact the other night you insisted on falling asleep with your toy bulldozer. Baby dolls and stuffed animals are obviously not as cool as excavators, front end loaders, bulldozers, big rigs and dump trucks. Sometimes I joke that birthing you in upstate New York has destined you to a future as a red-neck.

I like our moments of shared discovery best. On sunny days after a small, new snowfall I take you out walking on the unblemished ground that winds around a strip of wood and buildings wishing we had deeper forest. Still, you are amazed by our footprints pressed side by side into the snow. "Mommy's footprints!" you explain pointing a mitten hand caked in beaten snow. "River's footprints!" Cold and tired, you still make me smile.

in you I see myself

Love,

mommy

Feline Fixation having some issues

By Autumn on January 8, 2010 9:12 PM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

Jason has informed me that 1and1 sqrewed us royally by not informing us of their plans to delete our domain as a way to twist our arm into having to reactivate it for $40 instead of the simple $10 it would have taken to renew it. Bastards.So it seems there was a paper or two sent to us that I dismissed and tucked away somewhere because it was for a website we never used but must have been related to Feline Fixation because my address was snatched from me by diabolical demons or maybe GoDaddy for failing to renew this something or another call a domain. We totally planned to buy it but have to wait for Monday and fax some paper...

So for now we spent $15 and bought up two new address. So for the time being Feline Fixation is now found at www.autumncanter.com. Far more professional for something really not professional at all.

I still feel bummed though because now my few readers may think I abandoned them to the mindless ether of the internet. Oh, and yes the pictures are down until my sick, badgered husband figures out how to make them work again after the move over.

I have back entries to put up as well and hope regular posting begins on Monday!

Feline Friday: Do and the sink

By Autumn on January 8, 2010 8:15 PM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

My dear childhood cat, Lucky, used to drink out of the sink. Of our current cat babies only one drinks from the sink. She makes me think of Lucky every time.

Diaper hunting

By Autumn on January 7, 2010 10:30 PM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

One good thing to look forward to about being pregnant now is that Jason's tax return is forthcoming and we can buy up the baby items we will need without feeling like out wallets are hemorrhaging. There are a few rather hefty investments we need to make for number two, though the sheer amount of items we will need is much smaller than what we needed (or thought we needed) for River. I kept almost everything of River's for number two.

A car seat, of course, is on the list. With River we just had a 5 point car seat to save money and ended up borrowing an infant car seat when the realities of an infant in a huge car seat struck home. It really is nice to be able to carry the car seat inside when baby is sleeping instead of having to manipulate a baby out of the car seat. Also, bundling the car seat instead of a infant is much better. So this time we're going to use the infant car seat and then buy a bigger one when needed. That initial infant car seat will cost us up to $100.

Diapers are by far the largest baby related investment, but in the end should save us money. I'm going to do things a bit different this time around. River's diapers are still usable but our supply needs to be freshened and increased for number two. Partly because his diapers are worn, partly because River could still be using them himself, and partly because we have never diapered a younger baby and younger babies just need a lot more diapers.

I buy most of my cloth diapers and other natural diapering accessories from Cotton Babies. They have great customer service and free shipping on big orders.

For River we used 26 bumGenius 3.0 diapers. I love them, I do. But after a year + the velcro gets worn and this starts to happen in the wash.

It's called diaper chains. I just find is extremely annoying. Plus bumgenius is made with microfibers that tend to get mighty stinky. You can bleach them once a month but after awhile the stink just seems to hang around and unlike all other cloth diapers, the manufacturers of bumGenius say not to use vinegar, baking soda or sold remedies like Bak-out to remove odor. Once your child pees, you know since he smells like a skunk and bleaching only removes the odor for so long before it returns. I don't dare bleach more than once a month!

Since we are starting with cloth from day one this time around, I need a more durable diaper to see us through Bean's diapering days. So instead of Velcro, I want to invest in a diaper very similar to bumGenius but with snaps. Snaps will make it a bit harder to shut the diaper, of course (particularly with a wiggling baby), but I have hopes that they will survive a bit longer than Velcro.

We're going to invest in Fuzzi Bunz One-Size.

One-Size diapers, by the way, are diapers that adjust in size to fit your baby from newborn to toddler. They tend to be more expensive, but you never need to buy any other diapers. And by expensive I mean $215 for 12 diapers!

So to help us keep the cost down I think I am going to 50/50 these diapers with cheaper prefolds and covers, plus continue to use our old diapers as long as they will last. I can get more prefolds (cloth that is pinned and then covered with a waterproof outer diaper) for far far less than a one-size diaper. About $60 for 15 changes. Of course, I will have to buy more about halfway through diapering bean as he or she grows. Still $120 is still a great deal less than $215, wouldn't you say? And even though prefolds covers will have velcro, they won't need to last so long since they are sized. Meaning the velcro should last as long as Bean is in them.

I am buying Indian prefolds for the softness and price. $1.50 per diaper.

And then Thirsties Duo Wraps because unlike most covers, they only have two sizes instead of four. So I will need less of them and thus, spend less money.

None of these estimates include other accessories like a diaper sprayer (to clean diapers), a new wet bag (to store dirty diapers in) and cloth wipes (I have never used them before).

In the long run, our investments should save us a heap of money but to start out, the price is somewhat daunting!

Wednesday: read Angela's Ashes

By Autumn on January 6, 2010 8:56 AM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

Back in college I took a Irish American Lit course to fulfill one of my English requirements. I guess I liked the time it was offered and the content although there was no sense of Irish pride that inspired my choice. I've always more closely identified myself with my mother's Italian American roots than any claim to Irish there may be in my father's side of the family. The people in my class were primarily those that identified themselves as Irish American though and I have found that claiming your bit of Irish to someone who actually has themselves an Irish last name is something of a grievous error. Especially when you are an olive skinned, puffy haired chick with a big Italian nose.

That doesn't really have anything to do with this book though. (which was recommended to read in the class, but was not on our list of assigned books). You certainty do not have to have a vested interest in Ireland to enjoy it. Not one to read many biographies, I have to say this is by far the best one I have ever read. Frank McCourt writes with maturity and a true sense of humor about circumstances that are just down right heartbreaking.

The book takes place during the great depression when Frank McCourt is born in New York City, the son of a alcoholic and a young mother overburdened with children. They move back to Ireland and Frank shares his life of poverty with the reader. It's hard to believe how horrible these children had it. Eye opening to see just how they survived, how much his mother sacrificed and fought through to feed her children and how honestly Frank portrays his own faults and shortcoming caused by his youth.

The book had me in tears on several occasions. Often from the heart lifting kindnesses young Frank experiences and shows as opposed to the tragedies. Overall this is just an amazing story. It never feels like McCourt is being biased and it is easy to forget that the author is the young boy in the story.

The fact that this man grew from such a humble beginning is testament to the kindness and strength of the "human spirit". I have very few people that invoke an intense sense of admiration in me. This writer has gone beyond that. I wish I could have met him.

I don't dare watch the movie for fear of abusing my sinuses.

You won't regret reading this one.

[There is a sequel but I have not gotten to it yet.]

Five years married

By Autumn on January 5, 2010 10:17 PM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

I think the first year I remembered our anniversary. It went something like this--

"Hey, we've been married a year?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's January 3rd."

"Cool. Happy Anniversary."

"Happy Anniversary"

Every year since, Jason and I mutually have forgotten to acknowledge or even nod our heads in notice towards the yearly anniversary of the day we married. This year, regaurdless of this post, is no exception. Because my blog has been down, I did not get to write this post until several days later.

What makes this all the more horrible is that on New Years day we remembered and remembered that we usually forgot. Then somewhere over the two days that followed the special date, obviously of little significance to a laid-back couple like ourselves, once again was forgotten. Only two days later, when another couple we know were celebrating their anniversary, did I recall that ours had already been gathering dust for the new year.

Woops.

I'm afriad this will be our last anniversary since the man I have loved dearly has commited a grevious sin....upon his face.

I never agreed to marry a 'stache. Once in a while the dreaded 'stache has made its way onto Jason's face. My running away, shrieking and swearing I will never touch him as long as that monster resides above his upper lip--has always had the beast quickly shaved away.

Maybe it is the impending second round of fatherhood or my insane mood swings and moaning about my sore boobs and incessant hunger...but Jason is stubbornly keeping that THING upon his person.

I grow life. He grows funky facial hair?

We had a good five years, Jason and I. I hope he's happy with that 'stache!

The irony of new jeans...

By Autumn on January 4, 2010 8:45 AM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

is that I won't be wearing them very long.

World, I am pregnant.

About a month ago I mentioned that I was going off birth control because it was giving me some issues like irregular periods and mood swings. I also wrote about how Jason and I would not mind getting pregnant (though we would rather not be just yet) or we would not have risked me being off birth control at all. We planned to use the good old fashioned method of birth control which research showed was barely less effective than the pill itself.

Well, I am either incredibly lucky, incredibly fertile (in my case) and virile (in Jason's) or incredibly all of the above because that 4.9% difference got me knocked up my second birth control free cycle. Which, just so you know, if the exact amount of time I was off birth control before when I got pregnant with River. Except with River we were really trying like every day if not twice a day.

So second month off, not even trying--in fact avoiding.

I wish such odds could function similarly with the lotto.

I can tell when I ovulate. I can pretty much pinpoint conception to December 16th. Which means I am not very pregnant. I mean, my symptoms (if they are symptoms at all) are so slight I'd never know if I hadn't taken a test. I only took it for the following reasons.

1. my period was slightly late (although I wasn't sure which day it would actually come, but it missed my first guess and then my second)

2. I've had cramps for days and no bleeding (same thing happened with River) It's called implantation... (spooky)

3. I was slightly sick with a fever (same thing happened with River)

4. As of 12/30 my sense of smell has been a bit better. ie: I cut a red pepper and it was super strong smelling, in a good way. I drove by a restaurant and could smell garlic knots through the vents. I could smell Jason's breath sitting beside him

5. Increased fluids from down yonder (one of the many things you don't want to know)

6. As of 12/30 I had a craving for creamed spinach and ate that for lunch

7. shortness of breath (also had with River)

8. A full on love of refried beans and salsa and anything spicy (also happened with River).

So I took a test on 12/31, figuring well..what the hell. It's just like me to get parinoid. I took two or three tests while on birth control and the chance of me being pregnancy then was nigh unto impossible. Once you experience pregnancy, everything can seem like a red flag and since my pills made my period so irregular I was constantly crying, "Wolf!" Or more aptly, "Baby!"

Little did I know just how good a job birth control was doing in keeping a child our of my uterus. I am a poster child for birth control, turns out.

So I took a test first of the morning and was so unconcerned I had no plans to watch the window like I usually do. In fact, first glance showed a rather innocent single line. I set it on the back of the toilet and silently bemoaned another pissed on, wasted $4.00. Darn my lack of patience. If I just waited this all would resolve itself soon enough.

I went to flush and caught a glance of a plus sign in the little windows having appeared the mere seconds it took me to struggle the purple cap over the pee stick, set it on the toilet, wipe, stand and then twist my body around to flush. I shook like I was being electrocuted.

Here is what went on in my head:

Yeah, A BABY!

Oh no, a baby.

I'm going to have a new baby. Another boy or a little girl!

I didn't want another baby yet.

This wasn't my plan.

Oh my fucking god, a baby.

Will River ween himself when my milk dries up?

I want to cry.

I don't want River to ween because my milk dries up!

Oh, kill me now. I'm going to spend my third trimester in the hottest fucking months of summer.

You know that witch in The Wizard of Oz...yeah.. that will be me. A puddle of muck.

I'm melting! I'm melting! I'm melting and I'm fat as hell!

Shit, shit and damn. I want to kill Jason. He assured me this would not happen. I need to go to the dentist, I need new glasses.

I JUST BOUGHT NEW CLOTHES!

Then I went and called him (the one responsible for this act of conception. The one who convinced me to get off the birth control and that he would not get me pregnant) and I said, "Jason...you jerk, I'm pregnant!"

Yes, this wasn't our "plan" but I believe things happen when they are supposed to. Naturally, one day at a time. Overall, I am happy. Who could not be? It's a child! Yes, it is scary. This time around because I have the knowledge while last time my ignorance was what had me worried.

So number two, who I will fondly refer to as Bean until a gender/name/all of that is decided...

Little Bean, you may not have been consciously worked towards, but you are a creation of joy. Keep on growing. Be born healthy. Don't pee or poo on me once out, if you can help it.

I know many women wait to tell friends and family (let alone any ol' person that might wonder onto their blog) because of the risks of miscarriage and other related issues, but even if that does happen to me, I'd want to share it with all of you (in horrible, unasked for detail, of course). So here is hoping for an easy, successful pregnancy. Here's hoping I don't melt in August's heat.

Little Bean is due around abouts September 9th, 2009.

Lord have mercy, I'm going to have to raise a Virgo (the same sign as my little brother)!

*faints*

Feline Friday: me and my girl

By Autumn on January 1, 2010 10:21 AM | Talk to me | No TrackBacks

Someone came looking for love today and let me carry her around in my arms. A rarity, believe me. This is Jason's cat through and through. Why it was only a few weeks ago she bit me because I ceased petting her before she was through with me and my services. (not hard enough to hurt me mind. Just hard enough to let me know her displeasure)

Soon after this photo Brody and Do Baby came to join us in the bathroom. When I began to speak to the other cats Miss Princess was not pleased. Her ears went back and she stiffened. When Do Baby jumped within reach onto the sink she got several growls and then a wicked swat.

Jealous much?

And by the way everyone, Happy New Year!

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