Feeling Colors

This, folks, is my right knee. Colorful, huh? I don't think it's been so bruised since I last went ice skating, probably about a decade ago. My lack of grace and unhealthy dose of clumsiness is why I don't ice skate and why my knee looks like a stormy watercolor.

What did I do? I fell down two steps two days ago. My shin doesn't look much better, and I think I sprained my left ankle. Sad, huh? At least it's winter and I won't be wanting to sport shorts anytime soon.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone with SprintSpeed

A Hairy Situation

Back in 8th grade health class, I remember one day when the class was split, guys & girls.  In the midst of awkward sex ed discussions, I remember being told to make a list of qualities & attributes we would seek in a potential spouse.  We were encouraged to put both character and physical traits.  Even then I had "clean shaven" on my list of preferences.  No big surprise then that 5 years later I fell for a knob from the Citadel. 

For those not in the know, Citadel freshmen (aka "knobs") get to sport a bald head their first year.  That's not what I had in mind by "clean shaven."  But that also means that there wasn't a hair on his chinny chin chin.

Fast forward a decade.  And I find myself quite uncomfortably married to the Mountain Man of the South. Ugh. I don't know why exactly my dear husband has decided to sport this hairy look.  Truly, though, as far as looks go, he can pull it off.  But that's as far as I can go.  I hate the feel of it. 

I have not hinted.  I have not worried about his feelings on the matter.  This has been one situation where I have not been subtle: I have told him outright, "I do not like the beard. Please shave it off."

Instead, he came home tonight with a beard trimmer. UGH.  He's serious.  He keeps telling me, "It'll get softer. I've read about it." I told him I don't care.  I don't like it.  I can't kiss him, not more than a peck.  It feels icky to me.  I could handle his occasional goatee, but not this.

So what's a girl to do?  Any suggestions.

Return to Bloglandia

Two years ago, I resolved to post to this blog weekly for that year.  I almost made it. Even though I fell short, I was pretty proud of the effort.  It was the best I had done with keeping a journal of any sort since college.

During that time I did a pretty good job of keeping up with my writing too.  I don't think the two results are mutually exclusive.

So the plan is to do it again.  It seems daunting considering how lax I've been this past year.  Granted, much of that has been due to adding a third little boy to our brood, and possibly even as much can be blamed on the simplicity of venting my thoughts through Facebook status updates from my phone.  Regardless, I think it will be good for me to make it part of my regular routine once again. 

That said, I have changed since I made that resolution at the dawn of 2008.  Back, oh, about 10 years ago, I think, my sister gave me this awesome slinky, sparkly graffiti print top for Christmas.  I thought it was awesome then, and I still think it's awesome.  But I haven't worn it in probably 6 years.  Well, maybe once under a jacket.  I still could.  It still fits.  But I have changed. The shirt still hangs in my closet for all seasons.  I probably should give it away by now, but it's got too much history & too many memories tied to it.  And maybe I'll get to enjoy wearing it again sometime. 

Likewise, I have grown out of certain blogs I used to follow.  I mean, they still fit me sometimes, I like to look at them, but they're not "my style" anymore.  I'm debating if I should take them off of my reading list entirely, delete the bookmarks, etc. I don't feel ready for that because of all the good stuff I once read there.  But now, the blogs ride me the wrong way, creeping into uncomfortable positions, not unlike that top being awkwardly stretched across my breastfeeding boobs.

I wish I could email subscribe to the things so I could just hit delete if I wasn't in the mood.  Oh well.

Moving On.

This is the first time I've done this, and I hope to not have to do it again really, but for the sake of my sanity, I have un-friended someone on Facebook. I mean, I've done that before with a couple people I didn't actually know, people who were part of organizations I was also involved in. But this time, it was someone I actually knew, someone I considered a friend at one point. But that was before facebook. Since friending this person, I have had no positive interaction from them. And you know what, I don't need that kind of constantly argumentative vibe. I'm too good -- and tired -- for that silliness.

Broken Thought Process Thursday: On being a mom, seeing Mraz, and feeling like a sleepy cow

Thought I'd jump on the bandwagon with Jenn, Ginger, Bree, & whomever else that's a sucker for trend...

I've been away from writing for too long. I have a dozen or so poems rattling around in my head, but I don't know where to start. They're tangled like last year's strands of Christmas lights. And somewhere, a bulb is out. Or more. Probably more.

Life as a mom of 3 boys is off to a good start. For those who haven't heard through other channels, I gave birth to our third little boy over a month ago. He was 5 1/2 weeks early and had to hang out at the hospital for a couple weeks, but really, overall, everything went well. And even given the fact that it was a preterm delivery, I have to say that it was the best labor experience I've had. Though there was some concern because he was early, I was not overcome by it like I was when our second made a surprise arrival (also at 34 1/2 weeks). We knew what to expect: he'd be swept away quickly because his lungs would likely be underdeveloped, he'd likely be jaundiced, he would be slow to learn to nurse, and he'd stay at the hospital for about two weeks. All were true in this case as they had been with our #2.

With the birth of a baby comes the hormonal roller coaster (just ask my husband, sister & mom). Call it "Baby Blues" if you want, but really, that sounds cuter than it is. Sometimes it hits like a blow to the gut and knocks the wind out of a girl. It's as overwhelming as the factors it exaggerates. Does that make any sense? Let me try again: the physical reaction a "Blues Flash" can cause is as stressful in itself as are the stressful factors (from maintaining a household to reworking career plans to finances) that can trigger the "episode" itself.

I feel like my hours and energy are constantly being sucked away from me. The only time I feel like I have time is when I'm at work. That's right, my baby is under 6 weeks old and I've been back to work for 2 weeks now. Granted it's part-time, but still. But I knew that going into this. It's a small company (that isn't ruled by FMLA) and they don't offer short term disability or maternity leave. I'm not holding that against them -- I like the company, the people I work with, and the job I do -- but when I've been there these past 2 weeks, I SO don't want to be there. Time drags. I can't help but think of the gazillion things I have to do here at home.

Since our little angel was born, it's been busy here. The first 2 weeks involved visiting the hospital multiple times a day. The good thing is that we're less than 10 minutes from the hospital. The bad thing is that being so close, a parent feels like s/he should commit to being there at every chance. That's unreasonable. Especially when there are 2 other kids at home who aren't allowed into the NICU. So it was good to get the little guy home. Of course, while he was at the hospital, we were guaranteed uninterrupted sleep at night!

Still, sleep hasn't been so bad. Right around 5 weeks the little man started (sporadically) sleeping through the night. That coincided with him rolling over. That's right, folks. This 1-month-old preemie has rolled over! Granted it was from belly to back (easier than the other) and in a fit of frustration, but he did it. He constantly scoots around if he's on his tummy. We've got to watch out for this one! He's determined to catch up to his big brothers!

Even with all the craziness that comes with a new baby, I managed to go to see Jason Mraz at the end of July.  That was funny.  So, the show was scheduled for an outdoor venue in Charlotte.  The short of it is, it POURED.  I'm talking, this storm was the lovechild of a Katrina & Hugo.  Or not quite, but that's how it seemed.  The tickets stated "rain or shine" no one wanted to leave even though the weather was miserable.

But about 2 hours after the show was to have started, they officially gave up on the original plans.  And lucky for us -- all the soaking wet concert goers -- because the storm knocked out the soundstage system, they offered a do-over.  Not rainchecks, mind you, because they wouldn't refund on behalf of the rain.  We were given the option that night to (A) Leave & get a refund, (B) stick around and TRY to get into the limited audience show in the indoor venue they moved to (try fitting something like 8K into 1.5K space), or (C) use your ticket at a rescheduled show at a later date at the original outdoor venue.  Because I was there alone (another story), and I couldn't be sure if I'd be able to swing the "later date", and I sure wasn't going to give up on seeing Mraz, I stuck around.

The show was great, but by the time it was over after 1 am, my feet were really killing me (as were my engorged boobs).  But I was glad I stayed.  I was even more happy with my decision when musictoday decided to invite those of us who went to the soaking wet show back to the rescheduled show!  So my ticket has turned out to be a 2 for 1 afterall!  And I didn't even have to have a baby at the show! ;)

I've been trying to nurse (see previously mentioned engorged boobs). Well, no, I've been nursing, but the little guy is an inefficient participant. He likes the snuggling aspect of it, but he doesn't eat enough that way. He prefers the "big gulp" of a bottle. So I've been expressing milk. I feel like a cow. Moo. I've had to ask a friend to loan me some freezer space for the excess milk.

Ok, TMI alert. Now I know this one is weird, and some might be grossed out by this: on occasion I've instinctively licked a stray drop or two of my milk off of my hand. This has led me to a surprise realization: my milk tastes a lot like Silk original flavor soy milk. Ok. Like I said, TMI, I'm sure, but it's not like I'm asking anyone to do a taste test. Note, the consistencies are way different.

Also note, not that I've tried or ever wanted to, but apparently it's not possible to make cheese out of breastmilk. Just sayin.

Considering that I really should accomplish something before the boys wake from their naps, I'm wrapping this up now before my lack of filter loses me another reader.

MckLinky Blog Hop for July 14, 2009 - 3 Things You Didn't Know About Me

Three things you (probably) didn't know about me:

One:

I'm a DAR.  I just learned (or maybe I just finally paid attention and heard) this 4th of July that I'm a Daughter of the American Revolution.  I don't have the paperwork to prove it, and I need to talk with my dad and grandpap to figure out the relationship,  but my great great great ... great great someone-or-other and his brother fought in the Revolutionary War.  Kinda crazy, huh?


Two:

I am closer in age to my MOTHER than to my youngest sibling.

Three:

For as terrible as I am about sending birthday cards, anytime I see someone's "birthdate time" on a digital clock, I say a little prayer for that person. 

Day Late -- Still Okay.

So, we were planning on taking the boys (5 & almost 3) to see fireworks in our little downtown.  Like the metro area's big show, it's called "Red, White & Boom", and the plan was, depending on how my nearly 8-month-pregnant self was feeling and how the boys were behaving during the day, we'd go see fireworks that night after my husband got back from work.  Well, the boys were ok, and I felt I could do it, so we packed them up and drove downtown.  But it was eerily quiet and empty.  Finally, after driving around for 15 minutes or so, we stopped at the police station right there and Jonathan asked about the fireworks.

They had been on the 3rd.

I felt awful, especially since the boys were so excited... and I've been an erratic emotional mess.  Thank goodness for the random people shooting fireworks from their back yards and empty parking lots.  We managed to find a great span of sidewalk in an empty parking lot where we sat on the curb to watch our own private show.  The boys were thrilled and didn't know any better.

In the end, I felt like the time we spent in that quiet parking lot was a whole lot closer to what those "Rebels" fought for 233 years ago, a lot closer than the hype and headache, alcohol, and excess that so much of 4th of July celebrations have become.

But that's not quite the end of the story.  This morning, I called in to the local radio station to relay my story for their "4th in 4 words" segment.  My 4 words were: Day late -- still okay.  It won me a nice dinner out for 2 and a cd. :)  Of course, we still need to cover a sitter...

Hope your Independence Day weekend was a good one.

Peace,
Julie