I love my OB. I really do. He is the 4th OB I've had over the course of my motherhood, and this pregnancy marks the first time that two of my babies will be delivered by the same doctor, so that says a lot about how much I like him. He is an older gentleman, a native of Korea. He has a thick accent, but a dry wit, and we always manage a playful banter. A lot of his patients do not speak English, and he does not speak Spanish, so he employs almost all bi-lingual Spanish speakers to help him translate. I think he really appreciates that he can have intelligent conversations one on one with me, so we get along really well.
Lately I have been having a lot of trouble with my sinuses and a bad cough. My last two pregnancies I was plagued by a terrible cough that went on for months. My family doctor at the time determined that I have a pregnancy- induced asthma, and put me on steroids to help me breathe. (Steroids in-utero, maybe that explains why both Curly and Paddy are out of their minds?) This time around I thought I would be proactive, and take myself to the Dr. before my lungs got so bad that I need steroids again. So I went on Friday. It has been a nightmare. Thanks to lovely insurance changes I now have a new family practitioner, and he seems to think the problem is my sinuses, and that we need to treat "the nose" to cure "the cough". The problem is that most sinus medications are not safe to use in pregnancy. There is one formula which is considered safe, however, my lovely insurance of course, does not cover it. So, I spent much of my day yesterday on the phone with the pharmacy and trying to get past the sphincter police manning the front desk at the Dr's office, in order to get a pre-approval from the lovely insurance people. (by the way, "lovely" is just another term for "evil, greedy bastards")
At some point yesterday, I decided to call my OB and get his expertise. No sphincter police in his office, within 5 minutes of dialing I was on the phone speaking with my real, live doctor - amazing! So anyway I was explaining the problem, when he asked if I had tried
"Lovishun, cough syrup".
"What?'
"Lovishun"
"Huh?"
"Lovishun, cough syrup."
So I said no, I hadn't tried cough syrup. I explained what the fam. Doc said about "treating the nose"...etc. So my OB asked what is the biggest problem, my nose or my cough? I told him that it was definitely the cough, I feel as though my ribs are about to break.
He said "ok, I want you to try Lovishun"
I said "ok, what is that?"
"Lovishun, lovishun"
I said "I don't know what that is, is it a prescription?"
"No, you buy it over the counter, Lovishun"
I said, "I am sorry, I've never heard of it, I'll have to write it down, Lovishun?"
"Yes, Lovishun"
"with an 'L'?"
"No, an "R, Lovishun"
"...you mean...Robitussin?"
"Yes, that's what I said, Lovishun"
So... maybe we don't communicate so well.
Anyway, my cough has slightly improved thanks to the "cough syrup". I am still waiting for the lovely insurance people to be big about this and agree to pay for the one medication that has NOT been shown to cause harm to a fetus....but that paperwork will probably take about 9 months! In the meantime I will be throwing back 2tsp of "Lovishun" every four hours!
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
A lovely, Barbie-Free Day
Curly girl, her Damnma (Grandma) and I had a lovely day today. I planned a trip for a group of us to head down to our local town hall auditorium to see a local production of "The Nutcracker". You see, Curly Girl goes to "banarina school" and she loves it. I found out that if I could round up a group of at least 10 people, I could take her to see REAL ballerinas for just $5 a pop! ($26 if you don't have 9 friends!) I called just about everyone I know that has little girls with ballerina and/or princess leanings, and soon I had a group of 15. I planned the outing for Wednesday, so that we could go right after "banarina school" (what can I say, I'm into themes!)
Curly girl was so excited, sitting in her leotard and tutu just waiting for the curtain to rise. (ok, so it didn't actually rise, it moved slowly across the proscenium on a rope, but you get the picture!) At first when I told her about the outing to see ballerinas, she thought that it would be a movie, however when she spotted one of the costumed dancers in the hallway pre-show, she was beside herself with anticipation. I was loving every minute of her awe and wonderment, and I think her Grandma was too. Finally the performance started, and she was mesmerized. She sat so quietly, watching every move the dancers made. When she saw a part she really liked, her eyes grew as wide as her smile and her hands clasped each other with glee. Oh, to be three and a half!
I looked around me and noticed most of the other kids watching just as intently. Then, I heard one child nearby whisper not so quietly to her Mom, "I guess, Barbie isn't coming?". Huh? I had heard other whisperings of the name Barbie before the show started, but I didn't really pay much attention to it, considering the crowd I was with. Apparently there is a Barbie Nutcracker movie, and a lot of these kids were expecting to see not "Clara's Dream", but "Barbie's." I was proud at that moment that thus far I have kept my Curly-girl Barbie-free, and therefore preserved a little bit of the innocence of her childhood. I don't exactly forbid Barbie, I just forbid anyone from buying her for my daughter. I am not a feminist taking a stance on this issue, not at all, Curly girl is a princess of her own choosing. I just don't like the doll much. I had some when I was a kid, and I didn't have much interest in playing with them. However, if the time comes that my Curly girl expresses an independent interest in the Mattel wonder woman, I will concede because it will have been her choice.
The funny thing is, if you've ever really looked at a real ballet dancer there are some distinctive physical characteristics. Let's just say, Barbie would never fit into the Sugarplum Fairy costume, her cup would runneth over!
Curly girl was so excited, sitting in her leotard and tutu just waiting for the curtain to rise. (ok, so it didn't actually rise, it moved slowly across the proscenium on a rope, but you get the picture!) At first when I told her about the outing to see ballerinas, she thought that it would be a movie, however when she spotted one of the costumed dancers in the hallway pre-show, she was beside herself with anticipation. I was loving every minute of her awe and wonderment, and I think her Grandma was too. Finally the performance started, and she was mesmerized. She sat so quietly, watching every move the dancers made. When she saw a part she really liked, her eyes grew as wide as her smile and her hands clasped each other with glee. Oh, to be three and a half!
I looked around me and noticed most of the other kids watching just as intently. Then, I heard one child nearby whisper not so quietly to her Mom, "I guess, Barbie isn't coming?". Huh? I had heard other whisperings of the name Barbie before the show started, but I didn't really pay much attention to it, considering the crowd I was with. Apparently there is a Barbie Nutcracker movie, and a lot of these kids were expecting to see not "Clara's Dream", but "Barbie's." I was proud at that moment that thus far I have kept my Curly-girl Barbie-free, and therefore preserved a little bit of the innocence of her childhood. I don't exactly forbid Barbie, I just forbid anyone from buying her for my daughter. I am not a feminist taking a stance on this issue, not at all, Curly girl is a princess of her own choosing. I just don't like the doll much. I had some when I was a kid, and I didn't have much interest in playing with them. However, if the time comes that my Curly girl expresses an independent interest in the Mattel wonder woman, I will concede because it will have been her choice.
The funny thing is, if you've ever really looked at a real ballet dancer there are some distinctive physical characteristics. Let's just say, Barbie would never fit into the Sugarplum Fairy costume, her cup would runneth over!
Monday, December 10, 2007
Daily challenge:
Think you're smart? Try this:
Teach a stubborn, snot nosed five year old to "BLOW your FREAKIN NOSE ALREADY!"
If anyone can do this, I wll give you Ten Bucks!
Friday, December 7, 2007
Unnecessary Anxiety
I am getting soft in my old age. And because in this particular post it is relevant, I must state: I AM NOT OLD. I have a strong personality. Some people would use other, "stronger" words to describe me, but we won't go there right now. That would be a tangent.
So, this is my fifth pregnancy. I am quite familiar with all of the usual testing and what not. I know what to expect for the most part, and I am rather educated on the pros and cons of each test, as I did a lot of reading during my first pregnancy and have continued to do so with each subsequent pregnancy. There are two screening tests that are done fairly early on in the pregnancy. During my first pregnancy I was only offered one, the AFP or Triple Screen. It is a blood test that is used to determine risk of having a child with abnormalities, namely Down Syndrome. As I said, I have done my research. This test is not conclusive, it only assesses risk, and further more, it has a high rate of false positive results. In other words, very often they tell you that you may be at high risk, but upon further testing and eventual birth you find that you have a blessedly, perfectly healthy child. Since this test only measures risk, a "positive" result is an indication for further testing, such as an amniocentesis, a test which is in itself risky. So, during both my first and second pregnancies, I refused this test. Hubby and I decided that the potential anxiety this test might cause, just wasn't worth it.
My third pregnancy didn't last long enough for this, or any other test to be done, as I sadly miscarried at 12 weeks. My fourth pregnancy came very quickly after the devastating miscarriage. As you might imagine, I was a nervous wreck! During this pregnancy they offered me another test called an "Ultrascreen". It is a combination of a blood test and a sonogram. I jumped at the opportunity to have this test done, not because I had any anxiety whatsoever about having a child with Down's Syndrome or any other type of disease or birth defect, but because it was an opportunity to have an extra sonogram, a chance to see my baby alive inside of me! It helped to ease my mind a little, to know that he was ok, to see him with my own two eyes. So, I said yes, sign me up!
During this pregnancy, #5, I once again had the Ulrascreen test. It was a joy to see this new person, although getting my finger pinched to draw blood was not that much fun. The Drs assured me that the sono looked great, everything normal. Fabulous news, and I got a lovely picture of the newest family member to post on my bulletin board!
At my most recent OB appointment, I was 15 weeks, and the Dr. mentioned that I would need some blood work. "Why?" I asked. I have bad veins, drawing blood is a really unpleasant experience for me and whatever nurse or phlebotomist has the pleasure of poking me. The Dr. said, oh just routine stuff, AFP, and some other regular things. Now as I stated at the beginning of this post, I must be getting soft. I adore my Dr, and although I do normally ask a lot of questions and demand explanations, I trust him. On this particular Friday morning I just rolled up my sleeves and said "okay." Why? Why? Why?
The Dr. called me this Friday morning to let me know that he got the results from my AFP test. (Can't be good if you're calling, right?) Apparently, normal risk for someone my age (again, I am Not OLD!) having a child with Down's Syndrome is 1 in 500. According to this blood test my risk is double, at 1 in 250. He went on to say that he is about 98% sure my baby will be fine. He suggests we wait for the 20 week sonogram and see what that shows. Then, if we are very nervous, we can do an amniocenteses, which is the only conclusive test for Down's. Holy Crap! All this crap is now on my shoulders just because I decided to be soft one Friday morning! Ugh. I could kick myself for not refusing that test!
Here's the thing, I know that it is a crappy test. I believe that for me, the risks of amnio are just too high. If God decides to give me a child with Down's Syndrome, or anything else, I will accept it. No matter what, I will always choose life. Even if the Dr told me, and showed me evidence that a child I was carrying would have no chance of survival outside the womb, would die in my arms minutes after birth, I would have that child. I believe in God. I believe that He has a plan for me, and I trust in Him above anyone else. Now, I do know that there is a school of thought which says that even if you would never terminate a pregnancy, it is still better to know what a child's difficulties may be before birth, so that the family and medical providers can be better prepared. I understand that. I am choosing not to worry about this though. Odds of 1 in 250? Those aren't the greatest odds. I have a much higher chance of developing Breast Cancer in my life. I will worry about that instead, or better yet, I will put my life, and my baby's in God's hands and not worry at all. However, if there is a next time, I will remember not to be soft, and to refuse the AFP test!
So, this is my fifth pregnancy. I am quite familiar with all of the usual testing and what not. I know what to expect for the most part, and I am rather educated on the pros and cons of each test, as I did a lot of reading during my first pregnancy and have continued to do so with each subsequent pregnancy. There are two screening tests that are done fairly early on in the pregnancy. During my first pregnancy I was only offered one, the AFP or Triple Screen. It is a blood test that is used to determine risk of having a child with abnormalities, namely Down Syndrome. As I said, I have done my research. This test is not conclusive, it only assesses risk, and further more, it has a high rate of false positive results. In other words, very often they tell you that you may be at high risk, but upon further testing and eventual birth you find that you have a blessedly, perfectly healthy child. Since this test only measures risk, a "positive" result is an indication for further testing, such as an amniocentesis, a test which is in itself risky. So, during both my first and second pregnancies, I refused this test. Hubby and I decided that the potential anxiety this test might cause, just wasn't worth it.
My third pregnancy didn't last long enough for this, or any other test to be done, as I sadly miscarried at 12 weeks. My fourth pregnancy came very quickly after the devastating miscarriage. As you might imagine, I was a nervous wreck! During this pregnancy they offered me another test called an "Ultrascreen". It is a combination of a blood test and a sonogram. I jumped at the opportunity to have this test done, not because I had any anxiety whatsoever about having a child with Down's Syndrome or any other type of disease or birth defect, but because it was an opportunity to have an extra sonogram, a chance to see my baby alive inside of me! It helped to ease my mind a little, to know that he was ok, to see him with my own two eyes. So, I said yes, sign me up!
During this pregnancy, #5, I once again had the Ulrascreen test. It was a joy to see this new person, although getting my finger pinched to draw blood was not that much fun. The Drs assured me that the sono looked great, everything normal. Fabulous news, and I got a lovely picture of the newest family member to post on my bulletin board!
At my most recent OB appointment, I was 15 weeks, and the Dr. mentioned that I would need some blood work. "Why?" I asked. I have bad veins, drawing blood is a really unpleasant experience for me and whatever nurse or phlebotomist has the pleasure of poking me. The Dr. said, oh just routine stuff, AFP, and some other regular things. Now as I stated at the beginning of this post, I must be getting soft. I adore my Dr, and although I do normally ask a lot of questions and demand explanations, I trust him. On this particular Friday morning I just rolled up my sleeves and said "okay." Why? Why? Why?
The Dr. called me this Friday morning to let me know that he got the results from my AFP test. (Can't be good if you're calling, right?) Apparently, normal risk for someone my age (again, I am Not OLD!) having a child with Down's Syndrome is 1 in 500. According to this blood test my risk is double, at 1 in 250. He went on to say that he is about 98% sure my baby will be fine. He suggests we wait for the 20 week sonogram and see what that shows. Then, if we are very nervous, we can do an amniocenteses, which is the only conclusive test for Down's. Holy Crap! All this crap is now on my shoulders just because I decided to be soft one Friday morning! Ugh. I could kick myself for not refusing that test!
Here's the thing, I know that it is a crappy test. I believe that for me, the risks of amnio are just too high. If God decides to give me a child with Down's Syndrome, or anything else, I will accept it. No matter what, I will always choose life. Even if the Dr told me, and showed me evidence that a child I was carrying would have no chance of survival outside the womb, would die in my arms minutes after birth, I would have that child. I believe in God. I believe that He has a plan for me, and I trust in Him above anyone else. Now, I do know that there is a school of thought which says that even if you would never terminate a pregnancy, it is still better to know what a child's difficulties may be before birth, so that the family and medical providers can be better prepared. I understand that. I am choosing not to worry about this though. Odds of 1 in 250? Those aren't the greatest odds. I have a much higher chance of developing Breast Cancer in my life. I will worry about that instead, or better yet, I will put my life, and my baby's in God's hands and not worry at all. However, if there is a next time, I will remember not to be soft, and to refuse the AFP test!
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Season's Greetings!
One of my most favorite guilty pleasures of the Christmas season is probably seen by some as trivial, but I proudly pledge my allegiance to...the Christmas Card. I love Christmas Cards, both sending them and receiving them. Hubby knows that for the month of December, he had better just hand over the mail because all Christmas correspondence must come through me first! My own card list is topping out at around 100 this year, and I keep a sophisticated spreadsheet where I keep track of who I sent a card to as well as whom I received one from. If I don't receive a card from you for at least two years straight then you're cut off, removed from my mailing list, excommunicated from my church of the Most Holy Christmas Greeting. I spend hours torturing my children to get the picture just right, then I spend several more hours agonizing over just the right way to present it.
Each day I anxiously await the arrival of the postman, (you know, while I am eating my bon bons and watching my telenovas) I toss bills and sales circulars to the wind and rejoice at the sight of each envelope with an actual 41cent stamp and handwritten address block.
The most coveted of Christmas cards is of course the photo card. Send me pictures of your little cuties all snuggled up in candy cane striped jammies, or decked out in frills by the tree, and I am your devoted fan for life (or as long as you keep them coming!) I proudly display the photo cards I receive like they are limited edition Donruss baseball cards! It's crazy the things that get me high!
Of course, not everyone has a cute cherub to snap a picture of and send in a Christmas card. That's ok. That's what Hallmark and American Greetings are for, and I love receiving the funny cards, the religious cards and even the ambiguous cards almost as much as the photo cards. Trust me, you are appreciated in your own special way.
There is only one kind of Christmas card that...irks me. The non-photo card from a family with at least one cherub. Why go to the trouble and expense of sending a card, even and especially a cheap card? You know that as soon as I see your return address I am going to get myself all excited anticipating tearing into that beautiful envelope so that I can feast my eyes upon...some Currier & Ives print? Really? Are you trying to hurt me? I am sorry to sound rude or ungrateful, but your "Merry Christmas" or heaven forbid, "Season's Greetings" (your ambiguity pisses me off) falls pretty flat when you neglect to send me a picture of your Christmas Joy. I mean, come on, Christmas is the season of giving, so please, don't be greedy, don't keep your cutie all to yourself, SEND ME HIS PICTURE!!
Each day I anxiously await the arrival of the postman, (you know, while I am eating my bon bons and watching my telenovas) I toss bills and sales circulars to the wind and rejoice at the sight of each envelope with an actual 41cent stamp and handwritten address block.
The most coveted of Christmas cards is of course the photo card. Send me pictures of your little cuties all snuggled up in candy cane striped jammies, or decked out in frills by the tree, and I am your devoted fan for life (or as long as you keep them coming!) I proudly display the photo cards I receive like they are limited edition Donruss baseball cards! It's crazy the things that get me high!
Of course, not everyone has a cute cherub to snap a picture of and send in a Christmas card. That's ok. That's what Hallmark and American Greetings are for, and I love receiving the funny cards, the religious cards and even the ambiguous cards almost as much as the photo cards. Trust me, you are appreciated in your own special way.
There is only one kind of Christmas card that...irks me. The non-photo card from a family with at least one cherub. Why go to the trouble and expense of sending a card, even and especially a cheap card? You know that as soon as I see your return address I am going to get myself all excited anticipating tearing into that beautiful envelope so that I can feast my eyes upon...some Currier & Ives print? Really? Are you trying to hurt me? I am sorry to sound rude or ungrateful, but your "Merry Christmas" or heaven forbid, "Season's Greetings" (your ambiguity pisses me off) falls pretty flat when you neglect to send me a picture of your Christmas Joy. I mean, come on, Christmas is the season of giving, so please, don't be greedy, don't keep your cutie all to yourself, SEND ME HIS PICTURE!!
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Jingle Bells
Let me say this first, I adore Christmas. I am only too happy that I now have children with whom I can act like a little kid over the whole month of December. Santa on a fire engine, gingerbread houses, Christmas carols, popcorn balls, tree decorating...I love it all. That said, allow me a moment to Scrooge here, but Jingle Bells may be the most tiring, overplayed, easily annoying Christmas song there is. ("shoes" is a whole 'nother post) It has been used as a parody tune left and right, "Batman smells" - seriously? I mean, the most creative anyone has gotten with this song in a long time was to have a bunch of dogs sing it.
Last Saturday I loaded Rosie up with the fam, and headed down to our church for their annual Santa Breakfast, followed by the town's annual Santa Parade later in the afternoon. It is one of the "funnest" days of the year in my opinion. We got to the breakfast as Santa was arriving, and soon thereafter began a Christmas Carol sing-along. First Son was excited to go gather around the tree, but then was hesitant because Curly was insistent on finishing her pancakes first ( the girl has priorities). I tried to encourage First Son to go, and even offered to go with him (not that sharing my voice spreads Christmas cheer to anyone...but if it made my kid happy, then what the heck!) First Son says that maybe he will go IF...they play his favorite song. "What's your favorite song?" you guessed it..."Jingle Bells". I thought, "sure, that's just the only song you know the name of", but wouldn't you know, seconds later the teenage elf with the microphone announces "now, let's sing Jingle Bells" and zoom, First Son uncharacteristically takes off on his own and joins the group to sing along. Amazing.
Maybe, it really is his favorite song after all. I mean, he only has a little more than five years on this planet, that's just 5 Christmases under his belt compared to my 32! Maybe he hasn't had a chance yet to become annoyed by the trite refrain "jingle all the waaay". Maybe it is also because the song is so simple, it is so easily learned (and therefore stuck in your head), that it becomes a childhood favorite much like the ABC song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (the difference being that those two songs pretty much stay in childhood, that is, until parenthood, while Jingle Bells reappears annually).
This evening, First Son and I were driving together to our local CVS to purchase some items for a care package that his kindergarten class is sending to the troops in Iraq. The entire ride, First Son kept singing Jingle bells, Jingle Bells...he was so proud of himself when he got the part about the "one horse open sleigh" right. I was not complaining, but it was starting to grate on my nerves. I turned on the radio, hoping to distract him. What came on, but some jazzed up version of his favorite holiday tune. I couldn't escape it, so we sat in the parking lot of CVS listening to the radio drone on, well, I was listening to the radio drone on, First Son was rocking out in the back seat! When the song was finally over, I let my too cynical self smile, thinking about the innocence of childhood, and then we started on our way into the store.
The story, or should I say, the song, however doesn't end there. We had to park pretty far from the entrance and walk, (as it is December and all the little elves decided to head to CVS tonight, the coldest night of the year so far, to gather up all their stocking stuffs) and First Son sang the entire way. At the top of his lungs, and without the slightest hint of self-awareness either. He certainly wasn't aware of the sly smiles that he was getting from every passerby we met. What is this...people are smiling at Jingle Bells? It's a revolution!
My Jingle Bell experience made me think of another Christmas song, this one a little more contemporary, "Christmas Through Your Eyes" by Gloria Estefan. I think that tonight First Son may have given a few people, myself included a little dose of just what Christmas is through the eyes of a child. A wonderful, perfect, not yet cynical, beautiful, off-key child!
Last Saturday I loaded Rosie up with the fam, and headed down to our church for their annual Santa Breakfast, followed by the town's annual Santa Parade later in the afternoon. It is one of the "funnest" days of the year in my opinion. We got to the breakfast as Santa was arriving, and soon thereafter began a Christmas Carol sing-along. First Son was excited to go gather around the tree, but then was hesitant because Curly was insistent on finishing her pancakes first ( the girl has priorities). I tried to encourage First Son to go, and even offered to go with him (not that sharing my voice spreads Christmas cheer to anyone...but if it made my kid happy, then what the heck!) First Son says that maybe he will go IF...they play his favorite song. "What's your favorite song?" you guessed it..."Jingle Bells". I thought, "sure, that's just the only song you know the name of", but wouldn't you know, seconds later the teenage elf with the microphone announces "now, let's sing Jingle Bells" and zoom, First Son uncharacteristically takes off on his own and joins the group to sing along. Amazing.
Maybe, it really is his favorite song after all. I mean, he only has a little more than five years on this planet, that's just 5 Christmases under his belt compared to my 32! Maybe he hasn't had a chance yet to become annoyed by the trite refrain "jingle all the waaay". Maybe it is also because the song is so simple, it is so easily learned (and therefore stuck in your head), that it becomes a childhood favorite much like the ABC song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (the difference being that those two songs pretty much stay in childhood, that is, until parenthood, while Jingle Bells reappears annually).
This evening, First Son and I were driving together to our local CVS to purchase some items for a care package that his kindergarten class is sending to the troops in Iraq. The entire ride, First Son kept singing Jingle bells, Jingle Bells...he was so proud of himself when he got the part about the "one horse open sleigh" right. I was not complaining, but it was starting to grate on my nerves. I turned on the radio, hoping to distract him. What came on, but some jazzed up version of his favorite holiday tune. I couldn't escape it, so we sat in the parking lot of CVS listening to the radio drone on, well, I was listening to the radio drone on, First Son was rocking out in the back seat! When the song was finally over, I let my too cynical self smile, thinking about the innocence of childhood, and then we started on our way into the store.
The story, or should I say, the song, however doesn't end there. We had to park pretty far from the entrance and walk, (as it is December and all the little elves decided to head to CVS tonight, the coldest night of the year so far, to gather up all their stocking stuffs) and First Son sang the entire way. At the top of his lungs, and without the slightest hint of self-awareness either. He certainly wasn't aware of the sly smiles that he was getting from every passerby we met. What is this...people are smiling at Jingle Bells? It's a revolution!
My Jingle Bell experience made me think of another Christmas song, this one a little more contemporary, "Christmas Through Your Eyes" by Gloria Estefan. I think that tonight First Son may have given a few people, myself included a little dose of just what Christmas is through the eyes of a child. A wonderful, perfect, not yet cynical, beautiful, off-key child!
I hear you!!
I have been told that I suck at blogging. It's true. I mean, Nov. 12th? Come on! What is it today, the 4th of December? So much for my new laptop being the only thing standing between me and a daily post. Several of my readers are up in arms about it, threatening even. It's not as though there hasn't been plenty to blog about since 11/12. I mean, there was Thanksgiving, and Paddy boy's party (you can read one version of that story over at http://ataleoftwobabies.blogspot.com/), the Announcement and subsequent details from Mickey D and the Sunshine Girl, and most recently, Paddy boy's birthday. There's the whole Season of Giving thing - and giving, and giving and giving, and being taken; there's plenty to write about Kindergarten and pie, the fetus, and all sorts of things. Also, there's the imminent departure of the DD family - now there's a post. Maybe I just have too much to write about. Has anybody considered that? Have any of you people offered to come and take over my domestic duties while I massage my inner muse? No. So, what do you want from me? A post? Oh, is that all? Fine. I will deliver a new post by the end of the day...HOWEVER...would it be too much for me to ask in return for a few freakin comments?? Thank you.
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