Saturday, October 27, 2012

the trip

Just wanted to write a quick note saying that we're going to Peru for the next ten days and won't be posting blogs till we get home.
I'm sure we'll have quite the experience on our 5 hour drive to the airport:
Then the flight to Houston followed by the stay in a $40/night hotel:

Then the flight to Miami. Followed by a flight to Guayaquil:

And I'm sure something like the blowout that happened on the way to Hawaii is bound to occur:
After about 20 hours in Guayaquil, we'll be on a sixteen hour all-night bus ride to Peru.
I don't even want to draw a picture to think about that...
Wish us luck!

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Thursday, October 25, 2012

Uncle David

I spent the past week visiting my grandpa (my Papa) who was recovering from surgery. He's doing remarkably well and we spent a few of the afternoons on walks. On one walk, we stopped by my great uncle David's house (David is Papa's brother in law).

I unstrapped Ruby from the stroller and helped her up the steps to knock on the door. Papa was ahead of us (despite the fact that he's 89 and had his cane in hand). Knock Knock Knock.

David came to the door and took one look at Papa, "Well, I'm off the bottle now so I don't think that we can be friends."

Papa looked up at him, "Well, I'm off too, so I guess it's okay." So he invited us in. Papa's surgery made him decide to at least take a break from drinking and Uncle David was recently diagnosed with prostate cancer so the doctor convinced him that he needed to refrain from drinking.

We sat down and Ruby began exploring the place. While she was exploring, she carried her milk bottle between her teeth and Uncle David began to talk.

"Well Joan [David's wife] went over to Seaside today to go shopping," he sad flatly.

"So what's she buying?" I asked assuming it had to be something in particular. I guess I was wrong because he looked over at me with a look of complete disgust.

"Whatever she damn well pleases. She goes shopping 'bout every day. 'Bout once a week to Seaside, once a week to Portland. Who knows what she's buying. She doesn't have anything else to do. Well, you know what I think it actually is, so she can have a chance to eat out. Don't blame her. She's a lousy cook. I don't touch her food," he said. I made a mental note to not ask about what she was buying again.

He glanced down at the car catalog in front of him, "Oh, she wants to buy a new car. She's always buying a new car. 'Bout every six years she gets a new one." (Six years seems like a long time to me, but I guess if you're 84, six years come and go quickly.) "I just buy a new one 'bout every - well - my last one was 19 years. I know because it had 19,000 miles on it. This new one is 6 years old. I know because it has 6,000 miles on it."

"So you drive exactly 1000 miles every year?" I was imagining buying a 19 year old pick-up that had exactly 19,000 miles on it. It's like the little old lady who only used it to go to church - but I guarantee Uncle David's not using it to go to church.

At this point Papa chimed in, "Well, he gets some help to get up to 1000. Otherwise it would be lower."

"Yeah that's true," David said, "Linda drives it to Portland every now and then or else I wouldn't even get that much mileage."

The conversation changed to his upbringing, "Imagine what it's like being the youngest of seven with no mother. But I had four older sisters who all had to mother me," he was sounding very reflective yet disgusted at the same time, "I'll never forget one day when I was 45 years old sitting on the grass over there at Esther's [his sister] house. There I was and all of the sudden Earmalee [his sister/my grandma] came yelling from the deck above 'David! you better get out of that wet grass you're going to catch a cold'. Well by this time I had had enough. Here I was 45 years old and I just couldn't take it one more second. I yelled right up, 'I'll sit on this grass if I damn well please and there ain't nothing you can do about it. I've been listening to you girls for almost 50 years, and I can't take one more second'." I guess his sisters all busted up laughing and I doubt if anything changed.

"Your baby really likes to hold her nipple between her teeth. You must have to buy new nipples 'bout once a week with how she carries that around," he said.

"Well I'm just glad I'm not breastfeeding anymore," I replied.

"You'll probably have to start again at the rate she'll be going through the nipples. You won't have enough money to keep buying them," he explained matter of factly.

I guess the thought of babies reminded him of when I was a baby. "You know you Mormons start having babies at about age 12 and keep pumping them out every year after that," I smiled wondering what on earth that would be like if it were true. "In fact, I'll never forget when I heard Dana [David's daughter] start talking about 'Molly', I couldn't figure out who she was talking about. I turned to her and I said, 'Well, who the hell's Molly?' and she couldn't believe I didn't know that Katie had had another child - can't keep track with you Mormons!"

On our way out Papa turned to Uncle David, "So the doctor didn't mention anything about you smoking? Just the drinking?"

"Well, he said to me 'you smoke?' and I said 'sure do' and he said 'well you know that's not good for you, right?" And I looked him in the eye and I said, 'How old are you doctor?' And he told me 46. So I turned back to him and said, 'I'm 84. Been smoking since I was 12. I'm a lot older than you yet I look half as young as you. I don't think you should be telling me what's healthy.' And that was that."

We left the house and I was still laughing on the inside. Guess you can always count on Uncle David to tell it like it is without sugar coating a thing.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

debate anticipation/let down

After last weeks debate, I was sure this week we'd see something big. After being so close to crazy excitement, it had to come this week. I was sure one of the candidates would knock out the other one (I mean in the literal sense--like in a fist fight). I actually thought maybe Lynn University had a boxing ring where they could just hold the debate - it would make things easier. I was sure a ref would be more appropriate than a "moderator" anyway.
Unfortunately, after a few minutes into the debate I realized it was not going to be what I'd hoped.
picture taken of me 15 minutes into it
After a while I decided it surely was time for my little one to have a bath and I gladly volunteered to give it to her. Shortly after the bath was full Camm came running in, "you missed the best part! you have to see it!" I ran into the computer room and went back two minutes on the live stream.
That was pretty much the hi-light. After that I went back to my first stance:
picture taken an hour and 15 minutes into it



PPS - This is supposed to be funny, don't get into a huge political debate in the comments section! Debates about stick figures are hardly worth it...

Thursday, October 18, 2012

the sleepover

My side of the story:
A friend went on an over-night with her husband and dropped her youngest girl (Emma) off at our house. Emma's the same age as Ruby so it was really cute to watch these two play, almost like twins. Unfortunately, Ruby has never had to share with anyone, so it was quite the challenge for her. Emma is the youngest of five and was really patient with my very confident Ruby girl.

Ruby's side of the story:
When Emma came I was so happy to have someone to play with. But sometimes she didn't want to play what I wanted to play. Don't worry though, I was practicing good leadership skills and just made her do what I wanted to do. When I wanted to sit down and have a snack, I would just grab her by her shirt and pull her toward me. If I wanted to read specific books, I would just make sure she was holding the right ones. But, she made me a little angry because she wasn't very obedient. Sometimes she refused to do what I said. Can you believe the nerve?
The second day when I woke up I decided that I was not going to have any more of that nonsense. If she didn't want to be by me, I wouldn't let her. I made sure she stayed away from my toys and me. If she came close, I just held out my hands and pushed.
The thing I didn't understand is why my mom kept getting upset at me! I was the one who was doing everything right, and Emma was the disobedient one! The first day my mom kept saying, "Ruby, Emma doesn't have to do everything you do!" Mom, I was just sharing! Since my mom didn't like it when I was sharing, I couldn't figure out why the second day my mom kept saying, "Ruby you need to share!" But Mom, you didn't like my sharing yesterday!
Anyway, I guess I couldn't do anything right. I was trying to be good, but I just ended up confused.

Emma's side of the story:
Wow. I thought being the youngest of five kids was hard. Never imagined what it was like to hang out with one spoiled child. Couldn't have been more pleased when I saw my mom walk in the door to pick me up. My patience was just about up!

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Mom is always right.

The mom is always, right. Isn't that supposed to be true? For the first time in my young family, everyone tried to convince me otherwise!

Last weekend we went to ChinaTown in San Francisco and I saw absolutely adorable Chinese dresses for baby girls. "Camm, we have got to get that for Rubes! It's so cute."

"You mean for Halloween?" Camm was obviously confused.

"No, to wear to church or anywhere else she needs to dress nice for."

"That is absolutely ridiculous!" he said with skepticism.

Despite his criticism, I was convinced Ruby needed it. I held up a red one and a blue one to Ruby to let her choose which one she wanted. She looked at the dresses and immediately turned her head. She would not have anything to do with them. I chalked that up to the fact she's little and probably just didn't understand me.

So I bought the blue one and I was so excited for her to look adorable at church.

This morning Camm had an early meeting and so when I got her dressed, it was just the two of us. Ruby has a huge mirror in her bedroom that she usually admires herself in. Today though was different. The moment she got her Chinese dress on and saw herself in the mirror she began to scream. While screaming, she tugged at her dress to get it off. It was stuck. She tugged, screamed, tugged, screamed repeatedly for ten minutes straight. I tried to distract her with toys and she kept going back to the dress. She hated it worse than her daddy did.

But, I would like to say that the mom is always right in the end: at church we have never gotten so many compliments on any item of clothing before. "Oh, she looks so cute!" "How stunning!" "How adorable" etc. etc.

At the end of the day Ruby seemed to tolerate it and Camm said, "you know, I think it actually is sort of cute."


Thursday, October 11, 2012

Things I will miss about the election season

1. Bumper stickers:
2. Every day when I log into my facebook account, I find three distinct political teams:

3. On road trips in the middle of nowhere there's always the clever signs:
(I've never seen a sign in the middle of nowhere actually FOR Obama - has anyone else?)
4. And saving the best for last, SNL never gets better than during the debates. 

What will you miss about election season?

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Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Master's Swim Team

"WHAM," I was jolted awake as my husband hit the bed causing it to shake.
"What was that?" I screamed. Apparently he was having a dream that he was playing defensive linebacker for his college alma mater and had just missed an interception. I rolled my eyes and was glad that it was nothing serious. My husband is known for his sleep talking.
I squinted through the darkness to the red lights on my alarm clock: "5:11 am". It was set for 5:15. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday I wake up before dawn to swim with the local Master's swim team. I decided to just get out of bed four minutes early in order to avoid hearing the awful "BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!" that we all hate.
Stumbling through the bathroom I put on my swimming suit, brushed my teeth, grabbed my swim bag and the keys, and hopped in the car. I pulled into the Ella Redkey Pool at 5:28. As I walked in, I couldn't help but notice the 47 degree air nipping at my face. "Am I crazy?" I thought as I got ready to dive in the outdoor pool. Though the pool has geo-thermal heating and can therefore be open year round, the chill of the air is still cold.
After a short conversation with my coach I jumped in and began warming up. It took about twenty minutes before I stopped shivering and could enjoy my workout. I couldn't help but notice that the sun comes out later and later each day. I turned to Kevin—a fellow swimmer who has been on the team for years—"In the winter time is it dark for all of practice?"
"Um, yes. Yes it is," he said with a smirk.
"I think I'll take a break in the winter and start back in the spring," I couldn't bare the thought of doing this in the snow and the dark.
"Oh it's not so bad," he said encouragingly, though I still have my doubts.
When practice ended, it was hard to get out of the pool knowing that the wind would be blowing against my wet skin. I hurried to the locker room and took a hot shower. I arrived at home just in time to eat breakfast with my baby and husband (who was now awake and no longer missing interceptions).


Thursday, October 4, 2012

Presidential Debate Recap

Just in case anyone missed it last night, here's the 30 second version:

After all was said and done, I think I was left only more confused about what they both want.


Pictures courtesy of here and here.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

The worst possible time to suggest more kids.

IMPORTANT NOTE: This story took place 15 months ago. (Every time I write a story about pregnancy, people think I'm pregnant now. I am NOT pregnant).

Because of some possible complications with Ruby's heart beat, I was given the option of "being monitored for several hours and then possibly being induced, or being induced right then. Since I was super excited to 1) not be pregnant anymore and 2) meet Ruby (sadly enough, probably my excitement was in that order at the time), I opted to just be induced.
For me, the pitocin didn't do much. They started running it and for hours nothing happened. "How's your pain level on a scale of 1-10?" the nurse would pipe in every half hour. I just stared at her blankly, "Uh, Is this supposed to hurt? Don't feel a thing." Camm and I just sat and played online scrabble--trying to pass the time until the action started.
After several hours of no pain whatsoever the doctor came in and broke my water. It was like she flipped a switch "PAIN ON NOW!" Immediately I was writhing, throwing up and thinking that maybe I should have opted not to be induced. It was in the midst of this writhing that the anesthesiologist finally came in with the epidural (I'm not one who had any desire to do it "naturally"--I think pregnancy was enough drawn out pain--we didn't need a climax of pain at the end).
"Oh, hi Miriam?" he said so causually--as if he didn't notice that I was vomiting all over, "It's so good to meet you." I realized then that he was a little bit more chatty than I was hoping he'd be.
Nonetheless, I was happy he had come in to put me out of my pain, "Yes, thanks for coming!" I gasped in between contractions, "Can't wait to get this shot."
"So is this your first child?" he said slowly, as if he had all the time in the world.
"Ya," I let out, hoping that would be the end of his questions.
"Oh how great! The first kid! So it looks like your baby will be a red head!" he said so slowly.
I looked at my blonde husband stroking my brown hair, "Uh, yeah whatever." Couldn't this guy hurry up I'm dying over here?
"That'll be nice to have a red head! So is it a boy or a girl?" I guess he really likes to chat.
"Girl," I could't handle all the questions. My already thin patience was almost gone.
"Oh excellent! You'll have a built in babysitter for all the rest of your kids! That'll be so great when you do this many more times," he sounded genuine, but it was the last thing I wanted to hear.
"Look guy! I really want that shot, and just a little FYI--there won't be any other kids!"

So, now 15 months later, I think I should write this guy a letter, here goes.

Dear Mr. Anesthesiologist Guy,
I really appreciated the shot that you gave me. It made me feel wonderful. I'm sorry I was short with you during the conversation leading up to it. Sometimes it is hard for a woman writhing in pain to feel like making a new friend. I hope you can forgive me.
PS--In the future, don't tell a woman in labor that this is the first of MANY experiences like that. If she were to have even slightly more energy than I had at the moment, she may have slap you straight across your face. Consider this your warning.

Am I out of my mind to think this guy should know better? After all, he deals with women like this every day - that's his job!