Stitch in time

My friends here where I live are an odd hodgepodge of various types of people and ages too. One of my favorite people is a woman in her 70's who lives in a little town just north of here. Her home is in the historic district just a block off of a traditional small town downtown. Her little Sheltie guards the front yard with her fierce yips.

This past Friday, we spent the day together at her home. She was teaching me how to sew. It was incredible loads of fun spending time with her, learning from her, and eating her cream cheese and olive sandwiches.

When Momma was here, she went with me to buy a sewing machine and then helped me learn to thread it. She made a list of essentials and braved Joann's with me to stock my sewing box. We ran out of time though, before we got to have a full blown sewing lesson.

My grandmother Honey was a seamstress. An artist really. The clothes she made were perfect. My mother's wardrobe was the envy of her college friends, and all of it was made by Honey. My Barbies were the best dressed dolls ever. I still have most of the clothes she made for them including the wedding dress with layers of ruffles, the slip, the petticoat, the veil, and the flowers that had a little elastic band to help Barbie hold onto them while walking down the aisle.

Momma and Honey would talk me through their sewing, but I never did any hands on work with them. I have to do something hands on to really get it.

However, it did give me a lot of the vocabulary to start off my lesson with Mrs. S. Friday morning, I loaded up my machine, material, pattern, and all the notions and headed up to her house.

I knew that I wanted to be able to produce the end results of sewing, but I didn't know that I would enjoy the process so much. Part of that, of course, was the good company. But yesterday, while Guy and Papa were putting in the living room flooring and Lovely was drowning in projects for school, I sewed.

And I liked it.

Little Bird will have rompers and jon jon's. Princess will have a new winter coat. Guy and I will have cheesy matching pj pants. I even bought a pattern and material to make Bird's baptism outfit.

I have never been a crafty person. I don't visualize things well, and I'm terrible at knowing where to start on a project. But sewing connects me to the women in my family that came before me. It gives me a great reason to spend the day with Mrs. S.

It gives me a skill that will create things for my family and friends. I like that.

And the cream cheese and olive sandwiches. Those are pretty good too.

Haiku Friday and I hate cancer, but who doesn't?

Not in the mood for
Writing good haiku tonight
Chemo next Friday.


Find more and better haiku here.

*********

We are not foolish enough to think that Momma wouldn't have to go back on chemo at some point. Her cancer is a chronic condition. We know that.

So when she called today, and I could hear the news in the tone of her voice before her words were spoken, I didn't crumble. It didn't feel like a crisis. I didn't immediately run through all of the things I needed to cancel in order to catch a plane.

Now that they have moved, thank God, they are near my brother. Bro and Sil are great with them, and the grandchildren bring joy into their lives. There will be help. There will not be Daddy taking Momma a piece of bread folded in half and calling it a sandwich. Bless his heart. This is so huge. I'm so grateful that they are near family now.

I think she will be okay. I think they will zap it back again this time. I think that she will live long enough to know Little Bird and for Little Bird to fall completely madly for her.

But she won't be here in January. Not for the birth. After all the wrestling with whether or not it was a good idea for them to be here, the coming to terms with how I wanted her here even it was more work because of Daddy, after all that?

It isn't even an option.

And of course, that makes me want her more than ever. And I just feel really sad.

But I also want you for a long time, so we will compromise. Stay there and fight now. Come here after you've kicked some more cancer in the tush. Little Bird will want you to stick around for a long time.

How to torture me

Take away my Diet Coke and internet service. Welcome to today.

The Diet Coke is a personal matter I suppose. Who am I kidding? Bird has decided there isn't enough room for him and any amount of gas in my abdomen. Major ow. So I'm cutting out the carbonation and adjusting a few things in my diet so that maybe I won't be doubled over in pain today.

The internet though? Is a mystery. Just stopped working. Guy hasn't had a chance to work on it yet, so I just have to wait it out. Thank goodness for free internet at Panera Bread.

What's been going on then? Most importantly, Andria had her baby. A little boy. Makes me want to jump on a plane right this very second. I am thinking a trip to her neck of the woods is definitely in order for next summer. It's somewhere Guy and I have talked about going for awhile now, and I just found out another friend of mine has moved there. Tempting. Very very tempting.

I spent a lovely day with my friend T yesterday. Her little boy is really turning into a little boy and is no longer a baby. It makes me a little sad, because I so wanted for our kids to be the same age and best buds, but it's alright. Her oldest is a gem, and stinking hilarious. She told T the other day that I was going to have a baby, and already had a stepdaughter and a stephusband. So funny.

Guy's ankle is getting better. It never did get to where he couldn't walk on it, and it wasn't very black and blue, so he decided it was just sprained and he would tough it out. I dropped him off at work the past couple of days because it is such a long walk from his parking space to his office, but today he is hoofing it all on his own.

As you can tell, I'm ignoring NoMoPloBoMoFo or whatever it's called. I did have a goal this month, and it was to comment on every single one of Zoot's posts because she is trying to reach 100 instead of just posting everyday. Also Liz's. And Whymommy's. And, well, just keep up with reading and commenting in general. Obviously, the lack of internet service has hampered my ability to reach this goal tremendously.

Tomorrow, Momma gets the results from her scans. Baited breath.

This weekend, Guy and I start our childbirth classes. We have an independent childbirth instructor that is coming to the house and giving us all the lowdown. I'm quite excited. There will also be a dad's class, a breastfeeding class, and she might help us find a doula. Guy is still convinced that we don't need one; that he will be everything I need. And I tend to believe that. He is everything I need. I'm not quite convinced that he might need one. He really hates seeing me in pain.

And in this random post of catching up, I leave you with the funniest thing that has happened to me in forever.

I'm sitting in Panera Bread. Bagel crumbs litter the front of my shirt. Pregnant belly busting out in all it's glory. Just minding my own business when dude in some camo and a hunting vest comes over and tries to put the moves on me. I didn't want to be mean, but it was all I could do not to just bust out laughing at him. How very very bizarre.

The last one

My newest niece joined our family this past weekend. I was waiting on a picture, and now that I have one, I forgot to ask if I could post it. So you will have to take my word that she is beautiful. She really is.

That makes five. Five wonderful kiddos. I'm a lucky aunt. I know that five is a lot of kids, and that it makes sense for them to be "done" now, but in a way, I'm a little sad. The oldest is 11. That is a long time to have baby excitement coming over and over. Plus, my sister-in-law is the best pregnant woman. She is one that really does glow. She's just good at it. And she's an awesome mom too. So, there is a little sadness at the end of this part of their lives.

But there is even more happiness at this little one who has completed their family. I can't wait to meet her in person.


Happy Birthday, little one. Welcome to the world!

Poor limpy Guy

Poor Guy. He is sitting next to me with an icepack on his ankle. Before that, it was heat. And before that, ice.

Before that, it was tumbling down the stairs on his way to his car. Poor thing. I hate seeing him hurt. He is a good patient, but it makes me so sad.

He is all cripple and limpy now. His poor ankle looks like a softball.

Actually, God pushed him down the stairs to punish him for being incredibly antagonistic today.

Kidding.

Now back to the nursing. Time to switch back to heat.

Floored

I am hoping that what I was not able to express with my face and mouth today will come through with my fingers.

There is a group of women who are my friends. From California to Colorado to Chicago. From Texas to South Carolina to West Virginia to D.C and more. We share a common ground. We share support, stories, and pictures. Who am I kidding? We share just about everything.

I spend a little time with them almost everyday. The days I don't get to check in on them, I find that I think about them and wonder how they are. What their little ones are doing. How their house or job hunting is going. If that cold has moved on. If that baby has come yet.

There is a certain part of a friendship that you miss out on when you are long distance. I don't think though, that it means it is any less of a friendship. I don't usually distinguish in conversation between my "in real life" friends and my "long distance" friends anymore. Friendship is based in communication, and that is what this group of women does. We communicate.

Today, two of these friends were in my neck of the woods. LA had a birthday this week and was coming to celebrate with her brother who lives just a few miles from me. Jenn was just passing through and made it work so that we could all have lunch and celebrate LA's birthday together.

So I thought.

After a yummy lunch at a local pharmacy with a cute cafe attached to it, we went back to LA's brother's home for some cake. Cake for a birthday is perfectly logical. Behind me, Jenn is bringing out gift bags. Obviously, our friends had gotten together to give LA some birthday partying even across the miles.

So I thought.

Some times, I'm slow.

They were baby gift bags. And they were for Bird. And me. And Guy.

And this was a shower. A baby shower that my friends put together across the entire country and attended by two of the closest ones. I couldn't speak. Well, beyond asking for a tissue, I couldn't speak.

The gifts were amazing. There were things from our registry, things that they had picked out just for Bird, and things that they had made.

There were three group projects. A bag full of onesies that each of them had decorated with either bird themes or music themes. A quilt with squares from each of the seamstresses, and quilted out in California before making its way back here. And a scrapbook that only requires I add photos. They know me well, and know of my complete lack of scrapbooking skills (by the way, Kimmie, Lovely totally designed your page for Bubbles).

And even though it was only the three of us there "in real life," I haven't felt so surrounded by love and support in a very long time. Maybe ever.

That they would go to such lengths to help me celebrate this new little life?

I can only say that I am completely floored.

Humbled.

And more grateful than I can find the words to say.

Haiku Friday for the girl

Lovely and her dog
Dressed up for trick-or-treating
Honey's kimono.

Grandmother's old frock,
Crazy dog in a tutu,
Not man's. Girl's best friend.

Award day at school
Social studies shining star
On honor roll too.


Happy Haiku Friday. More here.

Remembrance

Today, my friend Amy reminded me that we were all finding out we were pregnant this time last year. She and I dropped out of the July babies group, but are both expecting again. Her little Turkey is almost done baking, and should be here by Thanksgiving. We are both having boys, and have excellent taste in names, in my opinion (just a little teaser for her).

Yesterday, as I sat in the waiting room during one stage of the glucose test, for some reason, my mind wandered back to the day I had to have my follow up appointment after the miscarriage.

And as I sat there, hyped up on sugar, holding a bag of free formula, and grooving to the latest riverdance in my belly, I cried.

I realized though, that it isn't the desperate, heart breaking, I-will-never-get-over-this, kind of pain any longer.

It is just the pain of missing someone I loved that is gone. Tears over remembering how completely devastated I was to be empty. To have lost that little life. Tears of remembrance.

These next couple of months will be strange. There will be so many milestones to cross, all while my belly (and hopefully not my boobs) continues to grow. We will pass by anniversaries and create new ones, all at the same time.

And that, I think, is what life really boils down to. Remembering to remember and not forgetting to move on.

Things I learned today at the doctor

If you have gained 24 pounds and then gain 13 more pounds, you will have gained 37 pounds.

If you eat sushi for dinner, you will have sugar in your urine the next morning.

If you eat sushi for dinner the night before your appointment, your genius nurse practitioner will assume you eat piles of rice all the time.

If you just say "Okay, I will," a lot, the genius nurse practitioner will let you go home a lot sooner.

If you zone out during the long boring DVD about the third trimester they play you while you wait for your blood draw, you will miss the doctor saying that there are many kinds of "IV birth control" from which to choose in the hospital.

I'm pretty sure she meant "IV pain control" since the whole birth control thing would be a moot point by then.

Turns out he's a comedian

I should have my mouth washed out.

Not just for my sailor talk some days, but actually washed, cleaned, scraped, out.

The dentist sends me into a complete panic attack. I hate it so much that I don't even read about it when other people have to go. I fear losing my teeth, but I fear the dentist even more.

So I avoid sugar in my drinks. I don't eat a lot of candy. I brush, floss, rinse, and water pic for my gums. I pray. Oh please, let my teeth be the teeth that don't need a dentist.

It hasn't always been this bad. I have always hated the noises that come from the dentist's tools. I think that is what bothers me the most. The scraping noises, and the poking of that damn pic thing. I hate the poking. The dread of finding a place that pic will stick.

Maybe if they didn't poke so hard, it wouldn't stick.

Completely irrational. I am completely and totally irrational.

Last night, when I was flossing, a chunk of the back of one of my front lower teeth came popping out with the floss. I went into hysterics. I was going to have to go to the dentist. And I had a HOLE in my tooth!

I cried myself to sleep, rubbing my tongue obsessively against the gaping hole in the back of my tooth.

This morning, I set about finding a dentist. That's right. I had to find a dentist here where I live. Where I have lived for an embarrassingly long time to not have a dentist.

I found one near the house and made an appointment for 11:45 AM. Then I sat and stewed. I chatted with some friends online who encouraged me and gave me great advice. They let me know that I wasn't alone in my irrational fears. I was scared to eat or drink anything because of the hole. I was scared to brush my teeth lest they all crumble into dust in my mouth.

Finally, it was time to go. I arrived early to fill out my paperwork. I had to wait another 30 minutes because they were squeezing me in as an emergency. When the nice girl came to take me back, she apologized for making me wait and told me that they were having issues.

I thought to myself, "I don't need to know that there are issues. Please don't tell me there are issues."

As I sat in that chair, waiting on the dentist, the tears came again. Then, thankfully, something got lodged on my contact, and I could blame the tears on my contact lens. He gave me a moment to clean them off and straighten them off, and then he looked in my mouth. He asked if I had looked in my mouth. I said I had tried.

"I've got some bad news."

The tears start coming back until I realize that my crap shoot of dentist choosing landed me a complete smart ass.

"You didn't break your tooth."

Did you know, that if you don't go to the dentist, that you can get calcium deposits built up on the backs of your teeth? I didn't. My ignorance didn't stop that from happening though.

I flossed away part of a calcium deposit. Something that wasn't supposed to be there in the first place. The floss was actually doing it's job.

The dentist laughed at me and began to scrape. He scraped away the calcium and told me that I had good looking teeth for someone who hasn't had them cleaned in forever. Then he quickly added that he didn't mean I didn't need to make an appointment to have them x-rayed and cleaned after the baby comes.

Once again, I'm a tool. A big baby, and a tool.

At least though, there were no shots and no poking. I'm hoping he is far less funny in February though. Far. Less. Funny.

Alone again, for now

The house is quiet. Momma and Daddy left this morning. Lovely is at school and then goes to her mother's house for a couple of days. Guy is at work. Always at work. It's just me and the pups for now.

Daddy did very well here, I thought. The stairs are problematic, but we couldn't do anything about that. He was up and down during the night and got off of his medicine schedule one day, but these are things that happen at home too. Overall, I thought the visit went well, and I don't think it will be as much work as was anticipated if they come for Bird's arrival in January.

Daddy is used to doing things and being the boss man. It is difficult to keep your patience with him now that he needs constant help, but then tells you how to do what he needs help with. Either that, or he wants you to help him right that second, even if you are already doing something else for him. I know it must be one of the many things that frustrates Momma, and with good reason. I just hope she doesn't feel guilty for being frustrated or out of patience sometimes.

Taking them to the 3D ultrasound was my favorite part of the week. They were really excited to get to see Bird, and the tech even printed some extra pictures for them to take back. It was incredibly cool to get to share that with them.

And the trip was happy. Even with Momma's scans looming in the near future and the reality of more chemo getting closer by the day, it was a happy trip. Of course, we are comparing that to our last two visits, one of which I lost a baby, and the other of which she was in the ICU on a ventilator. Not exactly tough competition for this trip. But we were happy. Or at least, I was. I know Momma's worried that she may not get to see Little Bird other than in those pictures, but I just don't believe that. I think she will team up with chemo again and push the cancer back at least once more.

If it's even there. We don't even know if it's there yet.

Last night, the five of us played a domino game that Daddy had been wanting to teach Lovely all week. The strange thing was, he couldn't remember how to play it. Every time we got to his turn, we had to explain the rules again. He tried to quit because he was holding us up, he said, but nobody minded. So he stayed, and he played. And even with the bizarre fact that he had to be retaught how to play with every round, there was so much of his old self there. He joked around and even broke out into the same random song that Guy did at one point. We all laughed. A lot. And it was good.

But now it is quiet. And I'm facing the third trimester.

This baby is going to be here before we know it.

I hope we are ready.

Haiku Friday, featuring Bird in 3D

Little Bird's sweet face
27 weeks today
He's got Daddy's nose.








Little Bird's shy pose
Smiling for the camera
I see there are no dimples.






Bird's eyes are shut tight
Giving us a big thumbs up
He must be cozy.







"Enough already
Can't you people let me sleep?"
Little Bird is done.







Haiku Friday. More here.

"I will receive unexpected morsels of food from above"

This past weekend, Lovely and I were in the kitchen making dinner and had the undivided attention of Pupstar. She is there at the ready, waiting to clean up any mess you might make or crumb that might spill.

When we put the meal on the table, Pupstar moved her position to lay down by the table and stare holes into each of us. Again, waiting on that bite to fall off your fork and onto the floor.

Lovely says, with a straight face, "I think Pupstar is using the secret to get us to drop food."

Perfectly timed silence. Then she grins.

Rounds of food spewing laughter all around. Man, it was funny.

Little shards of truth

I know. I'm supposed to be on break, visiting with my folks. And I am, but they need some quiet time, and so do I. Every once in awhile of course. So far it has been great having them here, and I think Daddy is doing really well. I am quite surprised actually. Pleasantly surprised.

He can't remember Lovely's name, and called her, "The little girl who lives here sometimes," which made me cry. But he can't help it, and it's not personal. I just continue to remind him, and Momma makes up for it by gushing about how wonderful she is. Which is true, so it's easy.

There is something on my mind though. Something that I need to flesh out, and I might as well try to do it here. I don't really want to go back to therapy right now if I can help it.

Guy wants to know why I think the hospital is the enemy. Why I feel like I will be fighting them tooth and nail to get the birth that I want for Little Bird to have. And while I'm not even convinced that I do feel that way, it is an interesting question.

I know that I want to be comfortable at the hospital. Comfortable as in relaxed and confident that I am being listened to and have first say in what is going on as long as things are moving along safely. I don't want to feel as though I'm being treated like someone who is sick or incapable of taking care of themselves. I want to feel strong, and I want to feel prepared.

So maybe I do feel that way. Maybe I do feel like I won't have much of a say and like everything is happening "to me" instead of "with me."

Little shards of truth still lay under my skin I guess. Things I haven't said aloud. Things I don't want to think about anymore. Laying under my skin and growing scars around them that are ugly and infected.

1. I had never been in the hospital before my D&C.

2. The last thing I said to anyone before they put me under was, "I don't care if he's dead. I don't want you to take my baby."

So there. It is really not a mystery. Just some things in my head I haven't learned to live with yet. Things that I didn't even know might be an answer when Guy asked the question the other day.

They probably have a lot to do with an answer. I know it's not the same. I know the two experiences are not related. I know all the logical answers.

Funny how none of that matters when you let your fears guide you.

House guests

Cleaning a house that has never been unpacked and is still being renovated is not an easy task. However, when your parents are coming for a visit, getting that task accomplished becomes much more important to you.

Guy and I spent the past two weeks trying to unpack boxes, put things away, build shelves, and clean, and clean some more. Even Lovely got in the act, coming to us and saying, "How can I help?" She really is an amazing 11 year old. And of course, it makes me feel good that she was excited for G-Daddy and Nana to come for a visit. In her words, "You can't have too many grandparents."

G-Daddy and Nana (who Guy and I lobbied to be called G-Daddy and Special Sauce, but Nana won out in the end) arrived last night, and seem to be settling in alright. They were up and down most of the night, but I'm not sure that is very different than when they are at home.

Daddy is ready to get out and run some errands today. Momma and I are not. The problems I've been having with my SI joint have really caught up with me, and I'm sticking to this chair and my hot pad as much as possible today. Momma of course does all the driving now, so she is tired too. We are just lumps on a log today, and it feels good.

So, dear internets, with this visit in mind, I'm about to have to hit the dreaded "mark read" on the blog reader. I'll try and catch up next week, but for now, I'm going to just have to miss you all. I will, however, say hello to the Reverend Momma for you.

Haiku Friday, doggie style

Downward facing dog
Doesn't hold a candle to
Shivasina dog.






Haiku Friday. More here.

She's so sensitive

If you prick me, do I not bleed?

If you simply look at me, do I not melt into a puddle of tears and insecurity?

If I close my eyes to sleep, do I not have terrifying nightmares?

I stare at this screen, wondering just what will come out if I allow myself to just type. Just type it all out and watch the words fall letter by letter.

And then I realize that I don't want to have to read it after I write it.

Sometimes I let it all get to me. Small things. Things out of place. Things I read in between the lines. Things that aren't the way I think they should be.

My Sil told me once that I hold people to high expectations. Make that my expectations. As in, I expect them to react the same way I would in certain situations. And then I get unjustifiably disappointed. She is right.

I think about that a lot now. When I get my feelings hurt, I think about it.

But these days, I don't think that's always the case. I think maybe I got hurt and blamed myself a little too quickly.

I find though, that I would rather just be hurt than do anything about it. Sometimes it's just easier.

And then, one morning I will wake up and wonder where exactly that friend went. When did they disappear? When exactly did it happen that I would put those memories in the trash and move on? And when exactly did I decide that it was better to just stay quiet, let someone hurt me, and cast my eyes downward until the tears won't slip out unexpected anymore?

People think I'm strong.

Those are the people who would be wrong.

Because you asked

Black Bottom Cupcakes (Cupcakes of Shame)

8 ounces cream cheese, softened
2 1/2 cups sugar, divided
1 egg
1 1/8 teaspoon salt, divided
1 cup chocolate chips
3 cups flour
1/2 cup cocoa
2 teaspoons soda
2 cups water
2/3 cup oil
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Combine cream cheese, 1/3 cup sugar, egg, and 1/8 tsp salt. Beat with whisk attachment until well combined and beginning to get fluffy. Stir in chocolate chips. Set aside.

Combine flour, cocoa, 2 cups sugar, 1 tsp salt, and soda with a fork to blend. Add water, oil, vinegar, and vanilla. Beat until smooth. Batter will be thin.

Place liners in muffin pans. Fill each 2/3 full of batter, then drop 1 heaping tsp of cream cheese mixture in the center of each.

Bake for 30 minutes at 350. Yeilds about 2 dozen cupcakes.

Cupcakes of Shame

Yesterday, Guy and I joined a church. After the service, they had a potluck for all the people who have joined in the past 12 months. I love a church potluck.

We signed up to bring dessert.

Saturday night, Lovely and I set out to make our Black Bottom Cupcakes. We have our own little system for division of duties, and can whip out a batch in no time now. She is in charge of the cream cheese filling, and I am in charge of the chocolate cake part. These rich, dark chocolate cupcakes with a cream cheese and chocolate chip filling don't last long around our house.

These cupcakes have been one of my favorites since I was a child and my momma would send them in my lunch box. It never occurred to me that they look a little funny.

Until yesterday.

Now, a potluck is more than just a potluck where I come from. It's almost a cooking or baking competition in it's own rite. Women, and some of the men, pull out all the punches to make sure that they are taking an empty dish home with them. That their dish is the one that has been scraped clean and then peered longingly into by the ones who took too long to go get their seconds.

So when it was time to leave and I went to collect my plate, I don't have to describe my horror when there were only 2 cupcakes missing off of that platter. One that Lovely ate. And one that Guy ate.

Perhaps I can blame it on pregnancy hormones, but I actually cried. A little. I couldn't help it.

Lovely insists that if just one person had eaten a cupcake besides our family, that they would have been gone. She said that they wouldn't have been able to stop themselves from telling everyone how fantastic they were, and that there would have been a mad rush for the cupcakes at that point and none would be left.

I think she was only a little disappointed. Because after all, we were taking home a couple dozen of our favorite cupcakes. Ones that we didn't have to share now.

Nevertheless, I'm thinking of changing the name of the cupcake to The Cupcake of Shame.

I have failed my first potluck at the new church.

I should have just made a pound cake.

Haiku Friday

There will be more scans
No answers from the doctors
To be continued.

"Just want you to know
Not trying to worry you
I'm good at chemo."

Now there's more waiting
Until early November
I think she's alright.

********

Labugga wrote a beautiful haiku in honor of Andria's term day. It is posted at Andria & Co. Of course I cried a little. Andria is so close to holding her baby, and has held strong through many losses to be where she is now. I'm terribly happy for her and proud of her.

********

And for more haiku, or you have written a haiku for Haiku Friday and want to join the block party, go on over and visit Jennifer at Playgroups are No Place for Children.