Gnumoon's Stuff

Ooh a rant…

<- Photo unrelated to post: my child being attacked by pink frilly ruffles.

Lots of re-damn-diculous crap has happened this week, culminating in the absolute cluster I experienced today at the OB’s office. I was there for my 6-week post-partum appointment (OK, so I forgot to schedule it at 6 weeks…11 is close, right?), baby and necessary accoutrements in tow. My appointment was at 3:30. No problem. I finished nursing Pooks at around 3, we loaded up the car and set out.

We got there and signed in, and I noticed that the waiting room was hot as hell (which is normal) and absolutely full (which isn’t). The longer we sat there (at this point the baby was still being quite charming, cooing and laughing at everyone), the more disgruntled I noticed everyone seemed. One old lady stage-whispered to the woman beside her, “I’ve been here for 2 hours.” I thought that couldn’t possibly be right, but as time wore on I started to believe her.

Then baby got fussy.
Then the baby got hungry.
Then the baby got supremely pissed off.
None of these things is good in a packed, sweltering waiting room.

I lugged my wailing child over to the receptionist and asked if there might be somewhere I could nurse, and she showed me back to an unused room containing a big X-Ray machine of some kind, assuring me they’d come for me momentarily. It was 5:30.
We nursed forever in that room before I went back to the hallway, convinced they’d forgotten to call me. Nope…it still wasn’t my turn.

Looooooong story short, I went to the office at 3:30, didn’t see the doctor until 6:30, and didn’t get back to my car until 7:00.

I don’t even know what to say about the experience- it was ridiculous beyond belief. To make a patient (and a baby) wait for that amount of time is bonkers. It must come with being pretty much the only game in town, girl-doctor-wise. And I could have seen another doctor, but I was scared of getting stuck with the one I had a fight with when I was pregnant (a lovely story for another post).
(But I did get to hear my doctor use the phrase “fecal incontinence,” which I’ll definitely be working into my everyday conversations from now on. grah-doo.)

So the good news is that all is well with me, but the bad news is that while I was there my child grew up, went to college, got a medical degree, did her residency, and did the exam herself. 

Inevitable, but a bit sad just the same

I knew that it would happen, and it has. The 0-3 month onesies are now too small for the growing Pookie. It makes me so sad to take them out of the onesie basket and fold them up, never to be worn again by my sweet little baby. All the cute animals and prints and colors that I got so used to seeing her in…the little blue-gray pachyderm printed on pale green cotton that declares “I’m an elephant and I am VERY BIG!” is particularly hard to let go of.

But let go we must- over the weekend she was wearing a Gerber 0-3 month one, and when she stretched out she, as my brother aptly put it, “Hulked out” of it. The trio of baby-sized snaps in the crotch couldn’t handle the strain of the impressive girth of the mega-bebe and popped open, allowing the sizeable belly within to burst forth.  It was quite hilarious in a “she canna take anymore, capt’n- she’s comin’ apart!” way.

Even the ones that are, ahem, stained a bit are hard to give up. All these pieces, worn so recently, seem so tiny compared to the 3-6 month ones, and it’s already hard to fathom how small she was, how fragile she seemed. A good friend suggested that I keep a few favorites, tucked away in a box, so that as the years go by I can always take them out and remember. (Her eldest just started college, and my money is on that she’s opened that box recently and perhaps had a good cry. I already know I will.)

In other news, congrats to Chad and his wife Jen on the birth of their twins! I cannot even begin to imagine how much sleep they are not getting...but the kidlets are so cute that I'm sure it's all worth it.

Babble babble babble

She speaks fluently, but it's in her own language.

Link of note:
This is awesome, and I want it. I want it now (said in best Veruca Salt voice).

Gentlemen, start your engines.

Unrelated to the post, but here's a cute pic of the girl with a big stuffed frog, a gift from her cousins.

I can't believe that the school year is underway once more. I can't believe that it's been so long since I was a wide-eyed freshman, thinking I knew everything, when in reality I didn't even know what buildings my classes were in. And now I drive around campus in my big safe crumple-zone, side-airbag-having SUV (used to be a ragtop Jeep with a half roll cage) chauffeuring my baby (used to be friends), listening to NPR (used to be the Beastie Boys), wishing all these people would go away so I could find a decent parking spot (some things remain the same always). Makes me feel old, and to these kids, I AM old. I'm TEN years older than they are. This is depressing, lets move on...

It's just 2 weeks to football season. Although I won't be attending the opener this year (and I DO hate that...I've always wanted to go to the Big House, even if it is to see my team get obliterated), the start of the season is symbolic. It's not a sprint, either- it's a marathon that winds through the fall and winter, ending in March with the closing of basketball season. For us, it means long days, lonely nights, endless travel, strange schedules, interrupted holidays. We'll be largely playing it by ear this season with Pookie- no idea how much she/we will travel with the teams or how much extra time DJ will be putting in at work, since he's kind of working for a new company now. (I am interested to see how the baby responds to hearing dad on the radio or seeing him on TV)

I can say that I do NOT miss my old job at all. I was getting dangerously close to getting a bullhorn and  shouting out some truths about the place (and making a giant spectacle of myself in the process). It wasn't healthy at all. The same problems still exist over there, but they no longer affect me unless I let them. I assume eventually people in power will notice and do something about it.

More quick bullet points while the bebe naps, pt. deux

Pookie and Uncle Geoff
More nuggets 'o my life, for anyone who is still onboard with this poor neglected blog...

- Now that we're past the 2-month mark in Pookie's life and breastfeeding is going smoothly, it's safe to lose this extra weight. Losing it too fast can affect milk supply until 9-10 weeks...now you know, in case you're ever on Jeopardy! and the category is "Problems Affecting Lactation".
  And I have to get the weight off, because Dr. J is getting hitched in less than 2 months, and I really don't want to be the fat bridesmaid.
  In a related story, back in January the dress fitter lady convinced me that since I was going to breastfeeding in September, I'd need to order a larger size than my normal size. Bad idea- that thing would fit 2 of me. I'm hoping to find a stellar seamstress who can take the excess fabric and make some kind of cute frock for Pookie to wear at the wedding.

- Last week I attended a gala event with DJ for his new company. It was in-sane...you know there is a lot of money involved when the black-tie dinner (for 1500) is hosted by the Food Network and Kenny Loggins is there as entertainment. I would conservatively estimate that the dinner/bar tab alone was over a million dollars.
  Grandma Natalie kept the Pooks (and Max) for about 6 hours while we were gone- definitely one of the only babysitters we trust!

- The students moved back in this weekend, and classes start Tuesday. I'm avoiding town proper this week as much as possible. Just navigating campus traffic on Saturday for FanFest was bad enough. Blecch.

- Hot Fuzz is a funny movie. Idiocracy has its moments, but I found it depressingly prophetic. (And I laughed too much at the "Ow My Balls" bit. Worried me some.)

- My goal for the week is to update the blog more. I MUST do it, too- I've had this thing for over 2 years now and I don't want it to peter out and die. 

More quick bullet points while the bebe naps

We got home this afternoon to see this guy (a beautiful 5-footer) hanging out at the mailbox. I stopped the car and poked at him to try to get him to move out of harm's way (he was in the road sunning). Instead of moseying into the woods as I'd anticipated, he slithered over and climbed up onto our mailbox and stared at me. Then he raised up about a third of his body until he was eye level with me and just stayed that way. Very strange. (Was he guarding the bills? And why/how did he pick my mailbox- there are three in a row.)
It was the strangest animal encounter I'd had since last night around midnight, when a bat dive-bombed my head while I was out on the deck trying to glimpse the perseids.
No time (as usual) for a real post, so here are some quickie points:

- Today was Pookie's 2-month appointment. Her stats: 13 pounds, 6.5 ounces, and 22 inches long. Just the other day I was holding her thinking, "Where did my tiny baby go? This kid must be 11 pounds."
I had no idea she was this big though!

- She also had her first round of immunizations. Vaccines are such a "maybe you're damned if you do" and "maybe you're damned if you don't" situation. On the one hand, of course you don't want your baby to get polio, but on the other it's easy to imagine the Big Bad Corporations and The Gubment approving some scary mercury-containing concoction that makes your little one sick as well.
And they almost had to restrain me as well as her when they stuck all those needles in. My poor baby...she took three (massive) shots in her (massive) thighs and just sat there looking shocked for about 3 seconds before it dawned on her how much it actually hurt. You can fill in for yourself what happened then.

- The internet is a bad thing for a worrier mother, especially one who was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder some time ago. I went online looking for "baby sweaty palms" and ended up terrified of lung problems, heart failure, SIDS and a bevy of horrible genetic diseases. The pediatrician (who must deal with crazy mothers frequently) patiently explained to me that all these diseases manifest first as "failure to thrive" and that a 13.5 pound two-month-old doesn't exactly fit that description.

- Non-pediatrics-related: we had a big weekend that included visits from family and friends, and dinner Saturday night at the home of my boss (note to self: become a vice chancellor someday). That was all on Friday and Saturday, so Sunday was largely devoted to resting. The family all came up to see Maren of course, but I think that the cooler mountain temperatures (90 degrees is cooler?!) made them want to stay.

Back in the saddle again - B-52's at the Biltmore

Despite only having 5 minutes or so to shoot (and one camera body...I should have borrowed one from someone to have 2 lenses going at once), I got some usable images from the B-52's show. Maren stayed at Uncle J's house with her dad- it was a little too hot and a little too loud for her to make the show. Next time!

More photos on Flickr.

Tiiiiiiiin roof, rusted.

We're off to Ashevegas so I can shoot my first concert since the birth of Pooks. I can't imagine a better reintroduction to the biz that the B-52s. Rules is rules, though, and instead of the common "3 songs or 15 minutes, whichever is longer" limit, I'm only getting to shoot 2 songs. Booo...I hope one of them is Revolution Earth, but I doubt it will be.

Whoopsie

I accidentally erased my whole post. Ugh...I'm too tired to rebuild it now, so I'll put it up manana. In the meantime, here is yet another picture of the kiddo.