Difference #29 - fingernails

Is it odd that I'm noticing these little things?

Peanut's fingernails are long and slender and don't grow very quickly. When they do, they are kind of thin and really sharp.

Meatball's fingernails are short and kind of square and grow like crazy. They are thick and sturdy.

Either way, I could just kiss them over and over.

Mowing the lawn SUCKS

So, I mowed the back yard with the push mower AGAIN today.

Let me start by saying that if I were a religious person, mowing the lawn would be against my religion. Few people know that one of my life goals was to NEVER mow a lawn - ever. (Sometimes I don't like to set the bar too high...) Of course, Bubba ruined that six years ago when she forgot how to ride a bike and broke her leg in five places. Dammit! I had to mow the front lawn for the rest of that year. She continued to mow the back because she could prop her cast/boot up on the front of the RIDING lawn mower.

I'm NOT a lazy person. I've accepted the fact that I must mow once in a while. I'm learning to cope with it. I've considered mowing medication, but my insurance doesn't cover it. ;) It's just that the big back yard has a short, steep hill, and it's not easy. It takes more than an hour.

Almost a year ago, the belt broke on our riding mower. We asked our fix-it guy if he could help, and a belt was purchased within days. However, it's been sitting since then.

May: "What do you want for your birthday?" The mower fixed.
August: "What does Bub want for her birthday?" The mower fixed.
Sill not fixed.
I don't think that we ask too much, but maybe we do. However, I can't help to think that if I were someone else (like The Golden Child), the mower would have been done long ago.

So, I pushed and pulled the mower all over in the heat and dripped sweat all over my glasses and bitched under my breath the entire time. There were even some tears because I just feel like I'm invisible. We've asked several times in addition to the birthday requests. I'm not going to beg.

I am going to just go get the belt and do it myself. I have the manual; I can read. I fixed the bathroom sink just fine, so I'm not completely incapable. Just pissed.

The Cuteness Quotient

And, no - this is not about our absolutely adorable boys. It's actually about me. Maybe if I put this in writing, I'll be able to better see the problem. (Deep breath)

About ten years ago, I applied for a promotion that I didn't get. Looking back now, I understand that I wasn't ready for it. The company made the right decision. I was promoted a year-ish later after I made some changes and purposely placed myself in situations for more exposure, experience, and challenges. So, it all worked out well.

HOWEVER, at the time that I was denied the original promotion, a well meaning (?) co-worker asked me if it was because I didn't score high enough on the CQ. I had no idea what she was talking about. Introducing.......... The Cuteness Quotient! [SLAP] After all, the woman that received the promotion really was very cute and spunky and outgoing. Me: not so much. I'm pretty reserved, a bit introverted, average looking, and perpetually chunky. I was devastated for quite a while.

Fast forward to today as I sucked in my stomach - again - to do up my slacks. I'm not enormous, but on the BMI chart I hover on the border of overweight/obese. (Yuck.) What really irks me is that I've completed five marathons! I'm definitely not one of those people who can just wake up one morning and run 26.2 miles; I trained! Hundreds of miles in preparation over the course of five years! Most people would look better - not the same.... Most people would take that finally chugging train and ride it into skinny, good-looking town, wouldn't they?

It's ten years after the original Cuteness Quotient remark, and I basically look the same - except 38 instead of 28. I would suspect that the Dr. Phils of the world would say that there is something emotional to this - something psychological - something fear based. They would probably be right. So, what is it that keeps me here? What am I allowing myself to get away with? What part of myself am I denying? What am I afraid of?

I plan to find some answers - finally.
(P.S. My first response to myself after re-reading this: "Ug. Soul searching is just so exhausting." HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOO?!?!?!??!?!?!?!??!?!??!!?!)

NICU reunion

We went to our first NICU reunion over the weekend. It was nice. The food was fine. The nurses were almost non-existent! That's the whole reason that we went! We wanted to see the nurses who helped our boys during their first month of life. We wanted to thank them for taking such good care of US, too! We only saw two of them, and we had to call the NICU and specifically ask that one come down. That was disappointing. But, we did get to see our FAVORITE nurse (Auntie Rose), so we were happy.

We also got to see a couple of the other parents/kids who were in the NICU at the same time. There were a lot of people since our NICU was one of the top two in the entire state, so trying to find anyone that we had made a connection with was difficult. So many kids go in and out of that place every year, and as your child progresses (or sometimes regresses), they are moved from place to place - sort of like "graduating" from intensive care to constant care to frequent care to monitored care. So, it was hard to form too many friendships with other parents. However, we did see Baby G and his parents who managed to make friends with almost everyone since he was in the NICU for 101 days.

Can you imagine?!?! 101 days spent at the hospital. 101 days of pumping milk without ever have the baby latch. 101 days with more than 2/3 being incredibly stressful and full of uncertainty that your child would ever go home. Well, they are an amazing couple, and Baby G is doing great. He's 18 months now, but since he was so premature, he is gestationally only 13 months old. He'll always be a small kid; at birth, a dollar bill covered his entire torso!. He'll hit developmental milestones (walking, talking, crawling, etc.) later than other kids for the first two years of life. After that, he'll be hard to stop.

So, today I'm grateful that we only had a few super-scary moments. (Necrotizing Enterocolitis is NOT a cake walk. It affects 20% of premature babies and kills half of those!) I'm grateful that our stay only lasted 34 days. I'm grateful that we had such awesome care. I'm grateful that Baby G is thriving. I'm grateful to be a mom.

First Family Camping Trip

Long post - you've been warned.

We took our first camping trip as a family last weekend. We camped with the G&L parents group. So much to say about this...

Two little tiny people whose combined weight is only 45 pounds should NOT require SO! MUCH! STUFF! They had more clothes than we did (which, if you know Bub, is remarkable). There was an entire bag devoted to only diapers and wipes. Then, we had the big plastic tote full of toys, an entire cooler housing milk, the playpen, two extra sleeping bags, and the stroller. OH WAIT! With the foam mattresses for the old ladies, there was no room for the off-road stroller! Yikes! So, we crammed in the mall stroller which, not surprisingly, sucked on the dirt and rocks. So much stuff was crammed into the back of the truck that the dogs had to ride in the front. Liz sat between the car seats, and Gus sparwled on the front seat between the grown-ups.

Comfort is becoming an issue. Bub and I are getting too old to sleep on the ground. (OK, mostly Bub, but I wouldn't complain if we had an air mattress or a camper.) Not only were we crammed into cab of the truck with the dogs, but the AC pooped out. (Well, it probably has something to do with the "repair" of the front bumper so that the truck would pass inspection. It was bent out of shape by Bub's "interaction" with a pole at a gas pump. It was bent back into shape by my dad who, after trying everything he could imagine by hand, decided to ram it into a tree a couple of times. Well, it passed inspection....) The missing AC wouldn't really have been an issue if it hadn't been 105* on the drive down and if we hadn't been stuck in rush hour Happy Valley traffic. Side note: At the end of the weekend, we found out that Uncle Rawhide's camper is all spruced up. We could have taken it.

We were very happy to finally get there and get set up. Goddess bless the other parents who played with the boys while we unloaded everything. Here we are finally relaxing.

Nightmares. We sort of warned everybody about Peanut's nightmares, but even I wasn't prepared for him to wake screaming SIX TIMES in one night. Everyone was so sweet the next morning. We offered to move our tent further away from the group, but - again - goddess bless them all, they wouldn't have it.

Fishing - although it was good for one person of the group (21" brown at Cleveland), it stunk for us. I still don't have a license, and probably won't for a couple of years, but Bub was really disappointed with her (lack of) results. It was relaxing and beautiful, but we really like to CATCH fish. She did catch an albino trout for the first time. It was creepy! Then, she dropped it in my lap, and I screamed like a little girl.

The dirt was plentiful, and when you are learning to walk, you tend to fall a LOT.

Peanut is still having issues with wanting to eat much of anything at all. Yogurt remains a constant (thankfully), so he ate a decent amount of it. Of course, since we couldn't possibly take the high chairs, I basically spent meal times chasing him around trying to stick a spoon in his face. You can't really see the dirt here, but if you look closely enough, you can see yogurt on his eyelash.

We didn't spend a lot of time with the parent's group, though. Partly because we fished. Many of the parents just relaxed, and there were a lot of ATV rides and rafting/floating. Frankly, Bub doesn't understand this. Camping = fishing, and she couldn't get it through her head that everyone DOESN'T fish.

The other reason that we didn't spend a lot of time with the group is that we really don't know anyone that well. For Bub, this has never been an issue. She can strike up a joyful conversation with a weeping willow tree if necessary. Not me. It takes me a while to warm up to people. So, to everyone who was SOOOO very nice, thank you. We'll continue to come to the Friday park nights and the monthly get-togethers and eventually, I'll make intelligent/witty conversation with you. OK - truth be told, it may just be regular old conversation.... Thanks for letting us crash (and scream through) your party.

On a final note, the boys and I watched the finish of the 10k@10k race. I was going to run this race before I sprained my toe the weekend before. (It still hurts too much to run.) We were lucky enough to meet up with my aunt, uncle and cousin for some great conversation as the runners crossed the finish line. The winner finished in less than 36 minutes. That's less than 6 minutes/mile which isn't record breaking (but it is fast) plus, realize that more than the first two miles are completely uphill (5%-ish grade) AND that the elevation ranges from 9100' to 9700'. (Gasp!) Oh, and Mr. Freakishly Fast Runner finished five minutes ahead of the next person. Wow!

Farm Animals

A few days ago, the boys and I were reading a book about farm animals. Of course, I was making the noises and asking "What does the ____ say?" I was overjoyed when we ALL started making animal noises!

I will say that the cow noise comes off as Booooo more often than Moooooo. Sometimes, it's just Mmmmmmmmmmmm. But at least it's consistent when we point to the cows.

The cat noise isn't exactly a Meow, either. It's more of a high pitched squeal, but in defense of the boys, our cat (named Puppy) doesn't ever meow. He just walks around squealing like a leaky balloon. So, the boys are great impressionists.

The dog noise is a whole body affair, which cracks me up every time. They sort of pop their torsos up very similar to the "Sunbeam" song except with a barking noise.

There wasn't much imitating of the rooster noise. I would make the noise (Er-er-er-er-er... guess you had to be there) and Sam would try to do it too. He would croak out "Aaah-aah" and then cough and sputter. Ben decided that it was too much effort.

The weirdest reaction was to the pig noise. I was not just saying oink (because what pig really does that?). I was making the snorting noises and everything. After a couple of snorts, Sam would start to giggle and laugh and laugh and then grab his right foot and stick it in my face.

Hypocrite

I check out certain blogs on a daily basis and - on my bitchiest of days - find it an affront that the author hasn't bothered to post something witty or thought provoking or mundane in order to please blog stalkers like me. Damn them! Do they dislike me? Is it a conspiracy to disappoint me? Don't they realize how I depend on these updates to keep me sane and in touch with something that resembles reality?

Then, I realized that I only update on a weekly-or-so basis. Hypocrite. Of course, it's unlikely that someone is sitting around desperately wishing that I will post anything at all, but still............