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October 31, 2005

Halloween Recap

Poor Cat keeps thinking that he is going to wear his green cat costume “Friday.” I keep telling him “Friday” already happened, and that he was sick and stayed home from preschool. He says he doesn’t want to wear his costume right now because he has to wear it “Friday.”

However, the Cat is down with the candy-eating. We’ve had two trick-or-treaters so far*, and he insisted on eating some candy once we filled our neighbors bags’. These two kids are an adorable pair of brothers from a super-sweet family. They brought us cookies when we moved in, welcoming us to the neighborhood. One brother was dressed as Batman. The other looked like “The Carver” from Nip/Tuck, though he was supposed to be a mime. I was genuinely frightened until I figured out it was just the neighbor boy!

The big draw, aside from the candy, has been the glow sticks. Splig enjoyed throwing them around, and the Cat thought it was great fun to run around the yard with a glowy-necklace; however, it kept popping apart, so he kept putting it together.

As I started this post, we hadn’t gone trick-or-treating, and I didn’t think we would have to given that the Cat keeps munching on his candy (the Feingold safe stuff from Squirrel’s Nest.) And even though Splig is happier than he was yesterday (while projectile vomiting,) his appetite is not great and he is exhausted.

But then when Daddy came home, Splig went to sleep and the Cat wanted to go out in the neighborhood. He did a phenomenal job, saying “trick-or-treat, meow!” and mostly saying, “thank you,” although he had to be prompted.

When we returned home, he traded in the candy he had gotten for the Feingold-safe candy. He had a blast feeding Mommy and Daddy the candy that “makes me feel funny.”

Check out my Halloween-related pics on Flickr...

*We’ve had maybe 30 now (and keeps going up!) and I am freaking out that we don’t have enough candy! This is the first time we’ve been in a “real” neighborhood. Eeek!

Posted by karianna at 07:41 PM | Comments (0)

October 30, 2005

For the Best

This is the second week in a row that I have missed hockey.

Last week, I was throwing up and having other gastrointestinal difficulties. Although I once received a “Boot and Keep Going” award from my hockey team, I didn’t wish to repeat that honor. I slept instead of attending my game.

This week, I had a practice starting at 2:30PM. Husband was planning to take a shift from 4:30-7pm calling voters in preparation for the CA Special Election. It was going to be quite a kid-shuffle, but we figured out what to do so that I could attend my full practice and he could still get to the phone bank in time to do his political duty. He would drive to the train station. I would pick him up, we’d drive to my practice, he’d hang out with the kids while I skated, we’d drive to the phone bank, and he would take the train home.

What we didn’t count on was a jumper.

Our local highway is shut down because of police action surrounding a pedestrian on an overpass only an exit away from ours. The eastbound direction is completely shut, the westbound is crawling. We were going west. I watched as our ETA went from 2:15 to 2:20 to 2:30 to 2:35 before I realized that I had to turn back. As I have mentioned before, I am uncomfortable being late for hockey. I don’t like being rushed putting on my gear, and I don’t like jumping into drills when they are already in action.

So, I turned back.

I arrived home (using back roads) at 2:40. The Cat was asleep. Splig was rubbing his eyes. So, it was for the best that they are now getting naps instead of being grumpy at the hockey rink.

Husband called, saying that he was driving to the phone bank and would take an earlier shift. This way, he would be home for dinner, wouldn’t be calling people during their dinnertime, and would have time to spend with the kids before their bedtime. So, it is for the best that he was given the opportunity to get an earlier shift. (Plus, he may be able to pick up some food from a yummy former favorite that was near his old job but no longer convenient for us. Hopefully it is open on Sundays!)

When I returned home, I heard a loud hissing noise. I went to the backyard and saw the hose was on full blast. So it is for the best that I got home to turn off the water!

Finally, although I would have wanted to skate today, it is technically for the best that I get some web-work done today. I have several projects and it would be nice to start out on Monday feeling as though I have already accomplished something.

Funny how some things just work out for the best.

Update

Nothing in the paper about the jumper. I don’t know what happened. We get stories about people’s cats, yet not about a potential suicide? Over the summer (the night before BlogHer, actually), we missed being in a major accident by about 15 minutes or so. The next day, there was nothing in the paper (nor in the day after that…)

However, as a Spliggle update – he started projectile vomiting, so it is definitely good that didn’t happen while at the ice rink! Fortunately, he is feeling dandy today and up for eating candy!

Posted by karianna at 02:51 PM | Comments (11)

October 29, 2005

From Sick to Spunky

Yesterday I awakened way too late. I wanted to measure the bow for the Cat's costume in preparation for his class' Halloween party.

And I had to make the Cat's lunch, being sure to include some candy and other items for the party. (Hooray for The Squirrel's Nest, a wonderful confectioner who makes all-natural candies that are OK on the Feingold Program!) I was frantic because I knew I didn't have enough time to get everything ready and get the Cat to school on time.

As I was breezing around, I saw the Cat was lounging on the couch, looking forlorn. "I have a headache, Mommy. I don't want to go to preschool." Husband felt him and annouced that he was burning up.

So I shifted gears. Suddenly, all preschool preparation productivity halted as I switched to nurse mode. I tucked him in with blankets, gave him chocolate milk (spiked with Tylenol) and turned on "Tracks Ahead." I even gave him some candy as a special treat. But alas, he could only manage a couple bites before declaring that his tummy couldn't take it.

The day of mailing Halloween packages (I will do it Monday - Oops!), attending the Cat's Halloween Party, visiting my parents (delivering photos I had printed out the night before), and running errands became a day of cleaning up vomit from various locations and hoping the Cat wouldn't pee on our bed (he didn't!)

Thankfully, after a long nap, the Cat was much better. He was still quite feverish, but he insisted his tummy was okay. He drank some water without a problem, then some chocolate soy milk, and finally he requested some fries. ("But no burgler! Burgler will make my tummy feel bad. But fries will make me feel better!")

He was a different boy. Upbeat, spunky, happy, polite. It was amazing what a little hurling and curling (up in a ball to nap) can do for a person. He recovered much faster than I had after my own stomach flu episode last weekend.

So, he and his dad went out to the local model train show today. And the Cat was all smiles!

(click for more on Flickr)

While they were gone and Splig napped, I caught up on housework (mainly folding laundry while watching "The Aviator") So for one moment in time, I had a clean house.

And, as a bonus: Daddy and the Cat just went to the store to buy ingredients for dinner. And they returned with pink roses for me! Apparently, the Cat said that Mommy deserved some pretty pink flowers.

(Click for more on Flickr)

Right on! :)

Of course, one cannot be blissed out for too long. While I was finishing this entry, Spliggle made his way into the guest bath to unroll the toilet paper, empty the garbage can, and dump various things into the toilet. Must I add that the Cat had just peed and not flushed the toilet? Hmm, too much information, perhaps?

Posted by karianna at 05:22 PM | Comments (5)

October 27, 2005

On the Donation Pile

I just put a bunch of household items on the curb for donation to a local shelter. I took photographs of the items for our tax records. As I downloaded them, I auto-titled each "Donate" along with the number.

Seems that there were a few photos of Spliggle mixed in with those of the donated items. So the result is several photos labeled "Donate" with Splig's mug:

He seems to know that he has been marked for donation.

Posted by karianna at 08:54 AM | Comments (4)

October 24, 2005

Corn Collector

I had the stomach flu over the weekend and am still feeling a bit "off." Nonetheless, I tried to be productive today, cleaning up messes, getting Halloween gifts ready to ship to my nephews, and so forth.

While wrapping the Halloween gifts, (and also a birthday gift and three Christmas presents; because after all, if you are sending off a large box to Connecticut, why not include the Christmas presents too?) I moved the assortment of Halloween items that I had kept in the middle of the dining room table over to the side of the table to have room for the wrapping production.

Several minutes later, when I went to get the phone, I saw the couch was covered in decorative corn. Splig had apparently grabbed one of the decorations and decided it would be fun to take all the kernels off.

I was on the phone, so I couldn't immediately deal with the situation, so I turned my back on the family room (maybe the mess will go away?) and proceeded with my conversation, while wrapping. After putting away the other decorations and making sure the scissors were out of reach, I returned to the family room.

The couch was clean.

Next to the couch, there was a little basket filled with all the kernels. Splig was eating one kernel, but was carefully placing the others one by one into the basket.

Hallelujah!

Posted by karianna at 08:54 PM | Comments (2)

October 22, 2005

Pumpkin Patch

We went to the pumpkin patch this morning. We all have nasty colds, so were a bit grumpy, but we really wanted to go since it was our local moms' club social. Admission was paid by the club, and we received free pumpkins for the boys. We knew we'd have to go eventually, so the free stuff and being with people we knew won out over our colds.

Posted by karianna at 06:58 PM | Comments (2)

Don't Get the Mail!

Yesterday was a busy but enjoyable day.

I judged cakes for my high school Alma mater’s “Founder’s Day” (Spliggle helped in the tasting category!) and I got to announce the winners during an enthusiastic assembly. It was fun to be back on campus during an actual school day (as opposed to after hours for Trustee meetings.) I ate lunch in the faculty lounge, which seemed pretty odd, especially because there were plenty of teachers there who had instructed me, but also because two of my former classmates had become faculty. Pretty surreal!

Then I went home and did some work while Spliggle napped. Grandpa had taken the Cat home from preschool to have some fun time with him. I made a new bottle for Spliggle, made sure we had Cat-safe cake, and packed a drink for the Cat in preparation for a birthday party we would attend later that evening. I had a conference call with my boss (my brother) about some work issues, and then was ready to leave for the party.

I thought I’d get the mail.

The last month blissfully I have had no case worker visits. No forms to fill out about the Cat’s behavior. No dragging the Cat to places where he doesn’t want to go for an evaluation. My medical social worker had called off the monthly visits until we had heard from the government-sponsored center. And we were simply playing the waiting game with the latter. It was a welcome break from the scrutiny.

All has not been completely rosy with the Cat for this past month, but I think overall his behavior has been great. “Other” 4.5 year olds have bad days, too. What has been refreshing is that the Cat has seemed to be trying so hard. He says, “I am trying to behave.” And “please, I don’t want to get in trouble.” Overall, he has been polite and sweet. Grandpa has noticed that he plays well with other children at the park. And I have noticed he talks more about his friends.

There have been a few issues at preschool.

A couple weeks ago, the Cat’s teacher asked me if I had heard anything from the government-sponsored center, and I asked her if he had a bad day and whether that is what had prompted the question. She responded that he had been fine, and she sort of stuttered that she just wanted to make things more comfortable for him. I get the impression that he has moments of being “off” each day, and that she doesn’t quite know how to reconcile his differences and deal with what to her are silly requests. For example, during a parachute game, he complained the ‘chute was too loud (it was, in my opinion!) And then last week, she reported to Grandpa that he had complained that he didn’t want anyone looking at him. I remember being sensitive to that in my youth. I have seen him yell out “Don’t look at me!” and thrust his hands forward. I remember a similar moment during fifth grade when I was hit in the nose with a football a la Marsha Brady and the last thing on earth that I wanted was to be surrounded by my classmates. I was in pain and highly embarrassed, so grunted, throwing my hands out in attempt to shoo my classmates. Of course, that just got more negative attention and I got in trouble. And that is precisely what is happening with the Cat.

The upshot is that the Cat seems to be doing really well, but then he has those moments where he is frightened, embarrassed, or stubborn, and he doesn’t know how to deal with those emotions effectively and articulately. (Bonus points for him for understanding how to use his words when he is sad or physically hurt; he has done wonderfully with that recently.)

Frankly, I think that his current preschool teachers are a bit impatient with the Cat in a way that his teachers last year were not. My father mentioned that his teacher had rolled her eyes when recounting the “don’t look at me” story. I don’t think they know how to deal with him, and they are a bit put-off to even try. I really don't think having an in school evaluation so close to the start of school helped with the framing of this issue. But maybe it wouldn't have mattered since the Cat's behaviors speak for themselves.

New experiences are tough for the Cat. At the beginning of October, the class went on a field trip to the pumpkin patch. His teacher pleaded at me to “stay local” (originally she wanted me physically there while the kids loaded into the vans) until he had successfully been put in a vehicle to go. She seemed disappointed that I hadn’t signed up to be a parent driver. I sensed her pseudo-anger and bewilderment. I explained that I had considered being a driver, but knew that the Cat tended to put on “a show” for me. I felt the best course of action would be to force the new experience by having him ride in someone else’s van. I felt he would be better behaved than if other kids “invaded his turf” in “his” van. Similarly, I thought that if I were in the parking lot, he would raise a stink and insist on going with me, either pleading to take him to the patch, or home. I quickly explained this to her (hoping the Cat wasn’t listening) and I think she understood. I reassured her that I would be in the area with my cell phone on, so that if there were a problem, I could immediately take him home while the others went to the Pumpkin Patch.

He did fine. In fact, he enjoyed it so much that he was eager to go this morning when my mother’s club had their fall social there. He jumped right into the action since he had been introduced to it earlier this month.

Last week, his preschool had a bake sale. Every day, he would tell me, “I don’t want to go in the bake sale.” He didn’t understand the concept, thought it was off-campus, and judging from the “in” I think he thought he had to physically go somewhere perhaps dark like an oven. The teachers told me wearily that he had been emphatically denying that he would assist with the sale. I reassured them that I would talk to him about it. Yes, I talked to him about it. Daddy baked with him and explained why they were baking. The morning of the sale, we brought the baked goods to the classroom together, and he let out one last, “I don’t want to be in the bake sale,” but I told him to enjoy himself. I was afraid what I would encounter what I returned later that afternoon for the sale. But as I arrived, he was smiling wide as he worked the cash register.

I think the Cat can overcome his fears. It is a matter of addressing them and helping him find reasonable ways of expressing his concern.

When I brought in the mail, I saw the logo of the government-sponsored center. My heart fell. I couldn’t just leave it unopened on the counter until after the birthday party because I would wonder what was inside.

I opened the letter.

It read that the Cat had been diagnosed with PDD-NOS (Pervasive Developmental Disorder – Not Otherwise Specified.) This is the same diagnosis we had received early this year with Shithead Doctor. The psychologist at the government-sponsored center had been impressive, and had warned me that the Cat would score lower on his abilities because of his refusal to complete tasks, so in some ways the diagnosis wasn’t a surprise, but I had held hopes that perhaps he was a bit more towards “normal” in the several months since the original diagnosis.

The good news is that he qualifies for services. But that is also the bad news.

In the ride to the party, and for part of the party itself, my mind was processing the news.

I know he isn’t “normal” so it makes sense that there is a diagnosis. But then I am disappointed to be thrust once more into the “finding services” arena. The letter listed three areas in which they might be of service: educational advocacy, behavioral consultation/intervention, and structured playgroups.

My mind went wild. I want “help” for the Cat, but not “too much” help. I would appreciate recommendations for how to approach some of his behavioral concerns, but not being put under a microscope. At my gut level, I don’t want to be told what to do. I hate having a “case worker” as though I have done wrong. I don’t like “reporting” to someone as though I am being evaluated (and my son surely is!) Yet I know that the “intervention” is meant to be positive, even if the word carries such weight.

Honestly, I think it is the lack of respect that I dislike. There is an implication that you are an ineffective parent, so we will coach you about how to fix it. I realize this isn’t truly the case, but that is how it initially hits me. I am overly sensitive and I recognize that intellectually, but emotionally I get angry that my family is being monitored. I am disappointed to have to jump back into the world were I have these “check-ins.”

If the psychologist who evaluated the Cat is part of our treatment team, I will be grateful. She talked to me like a competent adult, not at me as though I were below her (as frequently is the case in these settings.)

Structured playgroups? My first thought was that I don’t want the Cat in a group of his peers where they also have problematic behaviors. I don’t want those as role models for him. But I realize the flip side is also true: a bunch of “normal” kids wouldn’t want the Cat around as a model of behavior.

Most of all, I don’t want the Cat to internalize that he is somehow “a bad boy.” This last month, although he has worried about getting into trouble and has expressed when he is working hard to behave, he hasn’t muttered, “I am a bad boy” like he had before. I don’t know whether this is because of maturity, or because he is no longer being evaluated. I don’t know if there is a connection. I don’t know how much he understands about the purpose of these evaluations and whether he is internalizing it in some way.

I hope that any of these “services” will be presented as something fun to do, not “therapy” or “punishment.” I don’t want him to think that he is below his peers. As it is, he knows that he has a special diet and understands that the other kids don’t have to adhere to those rules. I don’t know how this has affected him with regard to his self-esteem, though he does indicate that he thinks he will grow out of it, which may be true.

I know I simply have to wait to see how things flesh out. Husband and I talked a bit about it on the ride home from the party and he reminded me that I don’t have to put the Cat in the services if they don’t seem right for him. And that is true. We need to just wait and see what happens. Worrying about the process does absolutely no good. But my mind ruminates on the possibilities.

I feel better about it today, but the initial reaction was definitely more negative than positive. I will await word from the case manager, and try to approach this as though I am in control: that I have the right to refuse services if I think they aren’t appropriate for the Cat. I need to find the proper amount of trust. I know these are “professionals” but I have all too often seen professionals put kids in little boxes instead of really treating them as individuals. My skepticism is high, but I know that I need to be more flexible in order to find the right way to approach the Cat’s personality in an affirming, sensitive, but instructional way.

Posted by karianna at 05:37 PM | Comments (3)

October 20, 2005

Truly Wrong

I enjoy looking through junk mail catalogs. Sometimes, some interesting items will pop up. Most are just crazy, not useful, or look terrific but then end up being much smaller than expected or made out of thin, flimsy, brittle plastic. It is very rare that I actually purchase anything, and typically a 30 second scan through the pages are all the catalog is worth before being recycled.

But this latest catalog made me stop and think, "Okay, that is truly wrong." (Or, as dear Arsenio Hall used to say on his fabulous show "things that make you go 'hmmmmmm' ")

This is the item that made me laugh and cock my head. If you like trees, why are you stabbing them with these crazy decorations? It makes no sense.

It wasn't that surprising to find a holiday version, although still perplexing. I'd rather decorate the branches of the tree, or perhaps hang a nice wreath on my door. But "durable poly resin" jammed into the bark?

I know this may appeal to some folks, but personally I don't want to see anyone - hot or not - doing squats while naked.

Sick of magnetic car ribbons? Are you glad you can't see them in the dark? Well tough. Here are some lights that will be viewable all over your neighborhood. Joy!

This would be cool at parties. "Oooh! My bracelet is lighting up! Better answer my phone!" But aside from that, I am not really sure of the purpose. "Vibrate" in the pocket works fine during meetings and in other public places where the ring might be distracting. Can you imagine being at the theater and suddenly seeing someone's arm lighting up? That would be distracting.

Okay. I understand how this can be very practical. But the guy looks so silly!

Posted by karianna at 06:22 PM | Comments (3)

Crayon is Forever

In the time it took me to check email and blogs, the Cat decided to fancy-up the entry hall wall and the family room carpet.

I am stunned.

He hasn't written on a wall in at least a year. (Well, except for using chalk on the outside of the house.) And to draw with crayons on the carpet? What was he thinking?

Mr. Clean Magic Eraser is good on the walls, but disintegrates on the carpet. I have flicked away most of it using a washcloth and water and will be graduating to heavier things shortly.

But first, I have to address an email I received from a vendor listing the invoices and credits on our account. He wants to know how to reconcile it. Hmmm. If invoice A is for $1 and invoice B is for $2 and I sent you a check for $3, can’t you figure out that I paid for invoices A and B simultaneously?

Oh! Maybe it is because invoice C was $3 and invoice D was $1 but there was Credit memo A for 50 cents. So you are confused that I sent “only “ $3.50 for those items.

I really don’t understand why an A/R guy doesn’t know arithmetic.

Posted by karianna at 10:18 AM | Comments (1)

Random Bits

The day before yesterday, Husband reported that the Cat had announced, “Squash and chocolate chips make medicine!” Indeed, he likes both squash and chocolate chips. And medicine is defined as anything that makes him “feel better” as in, “Mommy, I want chocolate milk and a cookie. That will make me feel better!” (Gee, I didn’t know you weren’t feeling well.) Frequently, he will ask for some “slippery elm throat lozenges” when anything is wrong. Bad tummy? Throat lozenge. Younger brother took your toys? Throat lozenge. Happy placebo!

Then yesterday, the Cat announced, “Spliggle wants a little sister named Maya.” I asked him to clarify, and he said that his younger brother wanted a little baby sister. When I relayed this to husband, he said, “Maya is a nice name!”

Posted by karianna at 10:02 AM | Comments (1)

October 18, 2005

Why Jet Blue Hated Us

Erika’s comment on my previous post brought back some memories about the actual departure from NY to CA.

We also had two cats.

We knew that to fly out the cats, we’d need special airplane cat carriers. I had an enormous old bulky carrier that I hated anyway, but it was frustrating on principle to have to buy new carriers. Fortunately, Jet Blue had their special authorized carriers on sale. The logistics of transferring the cats into their new carriers at the airport, then abandoning (Ack! Abandoned goods! Sound the alarm!) the old carrier would have been tricky. So Husband took the subway out to JFK and back to pick up the carriers. This also gave the cats time to sniff out what would be their new home for many hours.

I visited the vet and received some sedative pills. I didn’t want to have to use them, but we knew that one cat in particular was probably going to have a huge problem. She had been the one who scratched up my arm violently during an appointment right before the Cat was born in which I was concerned that our cats would need to be declawed for the safety of our baby. The vet went from saying, “You really shouldn’t need to declaw your cats; that is inhumane,” to, “I’ll get surgery over to talk to you.” (Believe me, I thought of all the options: the trimming, the caps, etc. and it was a horrid decision to make, but I still have some deep scars from this cat! Both cats recovered well and were still able to hunt.)

The cat carriers were essentially only tall enough for the cats to lie down. It broke my heart to smoosh them in there, but I added little treats into the carrier and gave them the pill hoping they’d sleep the whole way. The hyper cat spit out the pill, I think.

Can you imagine what we looked like when we arrived for our flight? Two tired parents, a tiny newborn, and two meowing cats.

If I were a spectator, I would have tried to change flights!

---

We left on a Sunday night. The movers had come the day before. They were scheduled for Saturday morning, but were late. Only one man arrived. He surveyed our apartment and said it was a multi-man job and they couldn’t do it until the next day (or worse!) I believe he then left.

We had a flight to catch the next day. We couldn’t have our flight day also be moving day. It was impossible.

We had an in-apartment consultation. The moving company knew how much we were packing (they had delivered the supplies, in fact!) and they knew the entry to our apartment.

Question: Why did they assign the wrong number of men to the job?
Answer: So they could charge us “overtime” and for “extra men.”

Question: Why did they send the wrong size van, and have to use a “shuttle van”?
Answer: So they could charge us extra for the shuttle van (They also did this on “the other side” in CA saying that the electrical lines near our condo were too low. Other moving vans were able to drive directly into our complex, but not Mayflower Movers! They had to charge us extra!)

Question: Why did they not inform us of these things in advance?
Answer: So that they could take advantage of us at our weakest. We had to get on that plane Sunday night. We couldn’t say “no, we are no longer going to use you as a company” or “we will rent our own van at a cheaper price to move the stuff into a larger area.” They had us at their mercy, and it worked.

So after the delays and hidden costs, a system was put in place that was pretty efficient. Alas, they went so quickly that I didn’t notice that our computer boxes were left off the manifesto. Plus, they had created the list of boxes just as “box 1,” “box 2,” etc. so it isn’t like “computer box” was a glaring omission. Tired and frazzled, and impressed by the workmen’s friendliness and efficiency, I ignorantly signed off on the manifesto and Husband slipped each of the workmen very large tips.

Several weeks later in California, we learned that our computer, monitors, speaker, and DVD player had been stolen. Only the DVD player was listed on the manifesto, and the value of that was under our deductible. Handy, eh?

(I will forever be grateful that Husband insisted that I back-up my computer right before we left. I would have lost lots of things otherwise. As it turned out, part of the back-up was corrupted, but some very important things to me remained.)

Once the apartment was cleared of boxes, we could sort-of sigh relief. (In fact, we opened a bottle of sparkling wine.) But we still had to clean the apartment.

I don’t remember when Husband’s car left, but it was put on a car carrier. We had filled the car with the “intermediate” things: items that we didn’t need immediately, but things that would be nice to have shortly after our arrival, but before the moving van arrived.

Sunday was hectic. Our mattress had been put on the moving van, but thankfully we still had the university’s mattress upon which to sleep. We were living out of our suitcases and I kept checking the entire apartment for anything we could have possibly left behind.

The Cat’s pack n’ play wouldn’t fold correctly, one of our suitcases broke, we feared we would have to do an emergency purchase of luggage. (But did we have time to travel to a department store and back?) We worried that we didn’t have enough room to pack the “last minute” things.

But then the pack n’ play folded, the suitcase was forced shut (I don’t even recall how because the zipper was broken) and we were able to jam everything in various bags.

We each had two carry-ons, plus the two cat carriers, our new baby in the Bjorn, and six pieces of checked luggage.

The car service we had called turned us away. They said we had too much luggage. We had told them exactly what we had. Alas, precious time slipped away while a van was called.

We waited on the front porch of our apartment building for the van for a long time. I was so stressed I wanted to vomit. Our dear baby did vomit: all over Husband’s nice wool sweater. He wasn’t going to force open his suitcase to get another sweater!

When we finally made it to the Jet Blue terminal, we were wiped. But at least we had our luggage, our baby, and our cats. I camped out with our carry-ons and the various animals while Husband checked in.

We have two cats. We have an infant. We have two adults. He kept going over the seating arrangement with the check-in people. We would be a row of three, with the cats beneath us.

When we were at the gate, instead of being allowed on the plane first as one of those families that needs “extra time to board,” we were told to wait. There had been a mix-up in the seating and we were not allowed to sit together. The cats could only be under a window seat, so we were going to have to split up.

I can only imagine the thoughts running through the other passenger’s heads. Here was a family with three noise makers. And we were holding up the flight because of the seating mix-up.

I remember the “we have to go!”s mixed in with the “we are doing the best we can.” And somehow we were found seats that the cats could go under. And magically, I sat in front of Husband and the baby. Still, the arrangement was awkward, but it was better than being split up completely.

The baby was astonishingly quiet. Husband was able to give him a bottle and he slept. One of the cats was crying the whole time, but it was not overwhelming given the typical roar of the airplane and that most people were watching TV with earphones.

I had a difficult time, as any nursing mother who has gone for hours without nursing knows. It was uncomfortable to be so exhausted that I wanted to sleep, but so wet and simultaneously hot and cold that I had trouble dozing off. (No, I didn’t want to wake up the baby to nurse! I didn’t want to jinx the silence in an airplane.) Plus, those stitches burned, so sitting a long period of time was tricky.

We landed in California exhausted, but relieved that our brood hadn’t caused complete mayhem. Several passengers took the time to compliment us, expressing their relief! My parents were there with a big sign touting, “New Job! New Home! New Baby!”

We had finally arrived. Disheveled. But in California.

Posted by karianna at 09:52 AM | Comments (1)

October 17, 2005

I left my heart in… New York (but I got it back.)

Yes, I should be doing the web-work that has still been on my mind and my to-do list, but I wanted to get at least one NYC related post “out of the way.”

Most folks would start the story at the beginning: Why did I go to NYC in the first place? What were my impressions? Etc.?

But the truth is that the big story is more what happened as I left. When I arrived in New York, I was a single doctoral student. When I left, I was married, a new mother, and didn’t care to ever see another research paper as long as I lived.

The Cat was born in mid-January 2001. We moved to CA at the end of February of 2001. For everyone who has gone through what it feels like to be a new parent, they can understand why it might be stressful to be moving across the country at the same time as recovering from birth, learning about how to care for a newborn, and finding a way to tell one’s graduate school that one is leaving. Add that Husband had gotten a new job (in CA) for which he was telecommuting until we physically moved, but that he was also doing his old job (in NY), plus some freelancing, and it is obvious that both of us were taxed way beyond our limit.

He couldn’t help me. I couldn’t help him. We both had to help the Cat.

I had “mommy brain” as I packed up everything. I was sleep deprived, extremely sore from the vacuum extraction (and botched incision) from the Cat’s birth, and completely worried. I threw away and gave away as much as possible, I organized and packed in an absolute haze. I couldn’t think straight, and yet I knew I had to remember what belonged to the school (we were living in subsidized housing in a partially-furnished apartment,) and what I might need later, avoiding packing things that the Cat would need immediately. I didn’t want to waste money by packing everything only to throw or give away a bunch once we arrived in CA. I didn’t want to waste food (gave most to a food bank) or books (tried to donate to the library, but ended up leaving them in the basement of the apartment in the hopes some would be claimed.) I wanted to pack everything in an organized fashion on the NY end so that unpacking on the CA end wouldn’t be hell.

I couldn’t prioritize. I couldn’t think through what we needed now versus what could wait for the moving van to arrive at our new place. It didn’t occur to me that we could simply buy anything that we had erroneously packed in a box instead of a suitcase. And of course I had first-time-parent syndrome in which every contingency must be planned!

New parent books always say, “Sleep when the baby sleeps!” But for me, it was “Pack when the baby sleeps!” “Pack when the baby is quietly playing with his Sparkling Symphony Piano or black and red baby gym!” “Pack when you should be sleeping!” (And there was another layer of complication in that I also had to pump while the Cat was sleeping because of a whole series of nursing problems. And ya can’t pack while you pump! I essentially dozed while nursing and pumping since those were activities in which I couldn’t pack simultaneously.)

I had to organize all my research files at the lab to be readable and interpretable for whoever would be taking over my project. I had to leave instructions and tie up loose ends, but I didn’t want to immediately tell my principal investigator that I was leaving until everything was in order. (The politics of the lab and the reasons why I decided to leave science are for a later post.)

I had to visit the graduate school office to officially announce my resignation while still retaining my ability to graduate (with a Masters instead of a Ph.D.) I feared this step, both from the “am I really quitting school?” and “I have to go up in front of this super important guy to tell him I am quitting?” angles. There were medical insurance issues that still needed to be taken care of, and other logistical details.

February 2001 was without a doubt the most stressed I have ever been.

The psychiatrist who I had been seeing literally shrugged her shoulders. She knew that the extreme stress, irritability, and worry that I was having would be consistent with post-partum depression, but the fact was that I was having a “normal” response to the magnitude of the stress: new baby, quitting school, husband’s new job, moving across the country. So my response wasn’t clinically significant. She told me I needed help packing. But Husband couldn’t help; he already had plenty of work to do. And my parents couldn’t fly out to help, either. We weren’t in a financial situation to have the movers do the packing (and I wasn’t in an emotional situation to trust the movers with that job, because of the aforementioned sorting and organizing involved.) I skipped my final appointment with her because I needed the time to pack!

There were small happy moments, such as when Husband sent me roses on Valentine’s Day, or when he made me attend Rent and Fosse. But I was in tears during the musicals, because on one hand I was so extremely happy to be watching the musical, but on the other hand, I knew that I was “supposed” to be packing, and I also knew these would be the last musicals I’d watch in New York (for the time being.) It was nostalgic and overwhelming.

Each time I did something “for the last time,” I was overwhelmed emotionally. We didn’t have time to do many of the “lasts.” For example, we didn’t go to Mo’s Caribbean or to the Blue Moon a “final” time. I wanted to enjoy New York before saying goodbye, but I had to pack.

The upshot of the emotional, physical, and psychological impact of February 2001 is that I left New York in a haze. It felt unfinished. I didn’t know what I had packed, and what I had given away. I was already confused and in new territory by having a newborn, but I was doubly-confused to “wake up” in California, in a new condo, in the town where I grew up in. I was back “home,” but with a husband and a newborn. But what had happened back East? How did I get a husband and a baby? What did I leave back East? Did I live there, or was it all a dream?

I needed closure. I felt as though I had left something back in New York.

Sometimes it is as mild as thinking “oh, I have that book,” and then realizing that I gave it away. But other times, I wonder if I left behind something important.

In Spring of 2002, I went back to New York for a meeting. I walked around the old neighborhood a bit and saw the changes that had come after 9/11. (The emotional impact of 9/11 and not being there was crazy, especially given that had I not made the decision to quit graduate school, we would have been there. I outline a few “what-ifs” in an earlier post.) When I walked around, I enjoyed reminiscing, but it was still surreal. I bought a shirt for Husband from the Blue Moon and I took some photographs with a throw-away camera that I purchased from our old grocery store. The conference was on the West Side, so I spent most of my time over there, but did get to eat dinner at the Blue Moon. When I left, I still felt as though there was unfinished business, but I was satisfied that New York still “existed” and that the life I remembered still was possible in part.

This past NY trip I finally got the closure I had hoped for. I realized as I was walking around in the rain that I was simply walking around. On one hand, I felt as though I had never left. So why would I just pace up and down the blocks? But then on the other hand, there were so many changes (lots of stores gone or remodeled; alas the fajita place is one of the casualties) that it was eerie to be dropped back into that environment. But it felt comfortable. I wasn’t missing anything.

Eating lunch at Focaccia Fiorentina, I realized that I had essentially come full-circle. This was the restaurant where I ate the first time I visited Cornell, as they were “courting” me to come to their graduate program. Sitting there, I could remember my younger, eager self. I could remember the promise, the future spread out in front of me. I recalled the excitement of finally having my own apartment. Husband and my courtship. My time with the Brooklyn Blades. Receiving “Honors” in my classes. The proposal. The move to our joint apartment. Passing my “Admission to Candidacy” exam. Giving birth to the Cat. And then I could finally remember what happened after the Cat was born. I could view the hospital where he was born. I could view our old apartment building, and our favorite hang-outs.

I knew it hadn’t been a dream. I knew that I can come back if I want to, and even though things change, the essence of New York remains. Plus, I have photographic evidence of some of my memories. And I am “awake” enough to remember.

Posted by karianna at 05:30 PM | Comments (4)

Fall/Winter 05-6 : Game Three Recap

We won, 2-1!

I started out awkward and a bit confused. I played left wing, and I usually play right, so I had to reorient myself a bit.

There are two plays that keep running through my mind. If we had lost, I would feel guilty about them, but as we won it isn’t that big a deal. Still, I nearly got two goals.

But “nearly” isn’t enough!

The first was when I was camped out in front of the net. My center gave me a beautiful pass. The goalie was on the other side of the net. Had I caught the puck, it would have gone in. Simple as that. But I misjudged the puck’s speed and lost the redirect.

The second was when I had a breakaway and shot hard on goal. The goalie grabbed the puck, completely covering it with her glove, so I backed off awaiting the face-off. But the ref didn’t whistle it down. Instead, she made us play the puck, so of course the goalie threw it into the opposite corner.

My center got the two goals of our side, but alas I wasn’t on the ice at the time. I had just switched-up for the first goal, and she was playing on another line for the second. (We switched from three full lines to two center / three wing combos when a winger had to leave early for another game.)

STATS:
Goals : 0
Assists : 0
+/- : 0
Season +/- : 0

Posted by karianna at 03:54 PM | Comments (1)

Parking Etiquette

There is a large parking lot in front of my sons’ preschool. As you can imagine, the parents chose only the spots closest to preschool and leave enormous amounts of empty spaces elsewhere. Frequently, parents “create” spaces in front of the school rather than park 20 feet away. (Yet their bodies suggest that they work out plenty at “The Club” but apparently walking through a parking lot is too much to ask.)

Okay, okay, so I usually park near the school, too, but I’ve never “created” a space. If there is one there, I take it. Otherwise, I’ll go up a row or two. After today, I think I will permanently go a row or two away from the front.

(The main reason against this, which I am sure also factors into the other parents’ thoughts is that it is more dangerous for the kids to navigate through several parking rows rather than hopping right into or out of a car without having to cross other parked cars.)

At any rate, the large SUVs and minivans create very little space in which to manipulate between cars for loading and unloading children, strollers, backpacks, and art projects.

If I reach my van and someone else is already in the “aisle” unpacking her children, I wait the thirty seconds it takes for her to finish her job and pull away. For some reason, others can’t seem to afford me the same courtesy.

Most frequently, I get the sympathetic shrug as another mother jumps into the already occupied aisle and attempts to unpack her children’s things simultaneously as we play car door ballet. Sometimes, I will just let her take over the aisle rather than attempt the dual loading which I know is impossible.

Or sometimes, I will hear the mother say to her child loudly, “Well, it is busy here, but don’t worry we’ll be home soon.” Or “We have to wait for these people.” And I will hurry as fast as I can.

But today was in a class in and of itself.

I had my front door open, and the van’s side door open. I was throwing lunch boxes and art projects in the front door, then backpacks through the side door, and was about to place Spliggle in his carseat (through the side door) and fold up the stroller once it was emptied of the rest of its contents.

(I know better than to unpack the stroller before putting Spliggie in his seat because the first priority after ridding my arms of extraneous supplies is to get him out of the aisle for his own safety.)

As I lifted Spliggle up, a lady closed my front door, opened her front door, and pushed Spliggle’s stroller away (so it rolled towards the street) to open her daughter’s door.

The power in the aisle had shifted. She now had both doors blocking the aisle. I was between both, attempting to put Splig in his seat.

I moved her daughter’s door slightly so that I could retrieve the stroller. I threw the remaining contents of the stroller over the front seat (because I could no longer access my front door!) I then folded the stroller in the super-tight space that this lady’s car doors had left me. I manipulated around her daughter’s door, buckled in the Cat on the other side, and got in the front seat.

I chose not to turn on my car because I didn’t have any intention of backing up while this lady’s daughter was in the aisle. I didn’t want to put a child in jeopardy!

Once the daughter’s door was closed, I turned on my car and waited for the woman to board. (Again, why start to back up with someone so close to the car?)

I started to pull out carefully (looking for other parents and small children) as soon the woman shut her door.

She beat me to the punch, somehow turning her car on as she entered (maybe it was already on?) and peeling out backwards. She gave me a smug smirk as she drove away.

Okay lady, you won!

A couple minutes later, I saw her SUV heading off to the neighborhood with three-million dollar homes. I guess her inconsiderate, rude, and selfish behavior has led to some nice dough. But life won’t be so grand if you are in jail after running over someone’s kid with your irresponsible and reckless behavior.

I just don’t get it. Are those thirty seconds really that valuable? Are you really so cruel as to throw my son’s stroller in the street? What if my son had been in the stroller? What if another car had hit the stroller? Why are you so fricking important?

Yeah I am angry.

On the good side, I have a Secret Pal from my local mother’s club who has been very generous to me. Heath bar, Twinkies, a lime-coconut candle, some lime-coconut bubble bath, and some Twix have been left on my door step the last couple weeks. She also has been sending me adorable little e-cards.

In the midst of my busy work schedule and the stupid-ass-I-want-to-pound-her-into-the-ground bitch, it is fabulous to be remembered by my Secret Pal. Thank you, whoever you are!

(Meanwhile, I’ve had a blast leaving little goodies for mine!)

Posted by karianna at 03:50 PM | Comments (0)

October 13, 2005

When it Rains, It Pours

Nope, weather's fine here. Hot in fact.

But I guess I am having karmic payback for the excellent wedding weekend I just had. I am eager to tell y'all about the weekend, especially as it ties into back-story. I have been composing such musings in my head. But alas, I am super-busy. From nice relaxation to super stress : such is this week!

I do part-time (quarter-time or less, really) webwork and accounting for an internet service providing company. I work from home. It is the "perfect" job for someone who is staying at home, but who wants to earn some "extra" money during the kids' naptimes and after their bedtimes (in other words, whenever it would be great to sack out in front of the tube!)

Typically, a single client will contact me throughout a week for a minor update. Sometimes, a client will have a major update, but usually it is the only client on my plate. On occasion, I have had two contact me at the same time, so things can get hectic. During major revisions, I essentially work the equivalent of a full day (or more) sandwiched between all the home and children duties. Usually, I have quick turn-around, because I can devote my attention to a single client at a time.

Today I had seven projects.

Seven.

True, some of them I knew about in advance (two). And two were dealt with within an hour, one within fifteen minutes. One can wait a couple days. One can wait a few days. But the psychological impact of having seven clients waiting for material all at once was pretty hefty. (Mix in the chaos of two little boys crumbling crackers all over the house, a severely dirty fish tank that absolutely had to be cleaned today because the fish were trying to escape, and bread that needed to be baked, and I've had a packed day.)

I am glad to have finished three today, along with a psuedo-finish for one (awaiting client input.) I will finish one tonight, then the other two will await the weekend.

Whew!

So in addition to making this update, please forgive me for grabbing a beer and watching Survivor (and Apprentice!) as I have a semi-leisurely dinner before I tackle another project. Girl's gotta breathe. Yeah and I will work out tomorrow or something.

Posted by karianna at 07:37 PM | Comments (6)

October 11, 2005

Back from New York

I was gone this weekend for a spectacular wedding weekend! There are tons of things to report, but not surprisingly, I am playing “catch up” with everything that lay idle during my time away. So, the detailed posts of stories and memories will have to wait a bit.

In the meantime, I have put up two Flickr shows:

The shots of my old neighborhood in the Upper East of NYC. It rained, but I still enjoyed the reminiscing.

The rehearsal dinner and wedding shots. One great thing about both venues was that they were lit in a cozy way. Alas, that meant low light that didn’t jive well with my camera, so many shots are not as clear as I would have hoped!

Posted by karianna at 12:59 PM | Comments (2)

October 05, 2005

The Magic Number is Three

Splig had his doctor’s appt today. (Previous freak-outs about this appointment here and here.) He received three vaccines, none of which had thimerosal or any other sort of mercury preservative, all of which were single-dose vials instead of multi-dose. He will receive two more in about two weeks (to space it out just a tad.)

The doctor was not totally uppity about my questions, nor was the nurse. The doctor did seem concerned that Splig didn’t have a large vocabulary and doesn’t know his body parts (or at least I didn’t know if he knows them.) I didn’t realize that at 15 months they are supposed to be mini-physicians. Hopefully he’ll “catch up” by the 18 month appointment, and hopefully he’ll end up seeing his regular pediatrician at that appointment (who is more laid back about “milestones.”) Frankly, I think he is pretty aware, and the structures he creates in order to get things he wants shows good planning skills. (Of course, little vocabulary with high analytical thought would point straight to another round with our friend “autism spectrum disorder,” but only for a once-bitten, twice-shy type gal like me.)

I bet Splig is fine.

Posted by karianna at 05:47 PM | Comments (2)

Who Knew Shakes Improve One's Shot?

Last night I had hockey practice. It went fairly well, though there was something that made me scratch my head a bit:

While working on my wrist shot, the coach assigned to that section (not my team coach) told me “Get your weight behind it.”

Okay. That made sense. I thought she meant in a general way, like we all have weight, so we can all balance ourselves in an optimum way to get the shot harder.

Then she continued, “Put those cheeseburgers and shakes to work for you. You aren’t ever going to be fast, but with that weight you can have a strong shot. Make it work for you!”

Um.

She wasn’t saying it in a mean way. I don’t think she was intending to criticize. Rather, I think she was trying to be truthful.

But.

I really didn’t think I was that obviously overweight. 10-20 pounds gone would look fabulous, but I thought I looked fine. On Sunday, I wore a size “3/4” dress to a baby shower. Granted, it may have been labeled incorrectly, because I am certain no other 4 dress on the planet would fit me, though my heavy wool coat is a 4 and fits fine. Realistically, I wear 8-12 depending on the cut and style. My jeans are 8s. Most of the things that require room for DD boobage are 10-12.

So, here are the possible scenerios:

1. I am overweight, but in denial : There have been ten million posts recently from my bloggy friends about weight. One of the things people mentioned was the tendency to “size up” other people. What does a 10 really look like? What do I look like to others? So maybe my body image is smaller than reality. Maybe I need to open my eyes.


2. My hockey equipment made me look larger than I am : Because of the DD boobage, my men’s chest protector goes straight out from the neck, diagonally towards the waist. So the overall appearance of the bulk under my jersey does not match that my rib cage and waist cinch in below the breasts. Similarly, I have big puffy pants.


3. My height, combined with #2, made me look larger. I am tiny height-wise in comparison to the other folks, so the bulk of the gear on a shorter person probably makes me appear heavier than the taller girls do. The same size on a tall person looks different on a short person. Hockey gear is not designed for petite people!

So, I don’t know. What I do know is that I most definitely didn’t eat a cheeseburger for dinner after that practice!

Posted by karianna at 05:45 PM | Comments (4)

October 04, 2005

The Platinum Poo Award for Bad Parenting

My head is spinning, I want to curl up and sleep, but it is only 5:30. Plus, I have hockey practice in three hours, so it isn’t yet time to sleep.

Today was one of those days where tons of things went wrong, but nothing truly horrible happened in that nobody died or got mauled. Rather, it will go down as one of those “remember when…” tales that will result in peals of laughter later. But now is not later.

This morning, Spliggle was particularly stinky. He had one of those mushy pastel yellow poos that are difficult to wipe off because they are equal parts solid and liquid. During that diaper change, he put his hands down there in the midst of wiping. I grabbed his hands and cleaned them off, then later washed them more thoroughly once his pants were back on.

But he still stank. Time and again, I would check his rear and discover nothing. I would inspect each hand and sniff. I whiffed his head. I cuddled him, but couldn’t figure out from where the smell was originating.

Meanwhile, the Cat had a raucous day: loud meowing, high pitched squeals, rambunctious playing while I was on the phone, pushing his brother, and whining. At one point, I spanked him and it ended up harder than I would have wanted. (I usually don’t spank, honest.) I don’t even remember why he was being punished.

The Cat was following me around and squawking. I was feeling frazzled. I wasn’t able to concentrate on anything, and Spliggle still stunk, so I figured it would be a nice opportunity to draw a bath. I brought Splig upstairs (leaving the gate latched) and closed the bathroom door behind us. I should have locked it, because I knew the Cat would decide to follow us. He has gotten good at jumping over the stair gate.

As I undressed Splig for the bath, I was surprised to see another round of pastel poo (I had checked just moments before!). I grabbed some toilet paper and tried to wipe while keeping the diaper away from Spliggle’s busy hands. I moved the diaper over, just as the Cat burst into the bathroom. To protect myself and Splig from the oncoming Cat, I put one arm up, accidentally tipping Spliggle face-first into the messy diaper that had somehow opened up.

Spliggle’s face was covered in poo. Surprisingly, he was smiling.

Horrified, I grabbed more toilet paper and wiped off as much of the poo as possible, then wiped the butt-area. I wiped and wiped as quickly as I could, then stuck him in the full bubble bath. (Meanwhile, the Cat was dancing around us, making it particularly tough to wipe.)

I grabbed a washcloth, doused it in soap, and started to wipe Splig’s face vigorously. I realized a moment too late that I had grabbed peppermint hand soap, not the baby-tears-free soap.

Peppermint stings.

So now the poor little guy had burning eyes, not just poopy eyes.

And the Cat was yelling that he wanted to go in the bath. And why is Splig crying? And is that my soap? Is that poo? Where is the boat? Why can’t I go in the bath tub yet? You’re real mean, Mommy.

I sent the Cat to his room, cleaned up Splig, and dressed my poor baby in pajamas. He is now cuddling up to his daddy, smiling and safe. Understandably, he has been hesitant to approach me.

I am just glad I wasn’t in labor while two of my kids were being stung by wasps. That definitely trumps my poo parade.

Posted by karianna at 05:59 PM | Comments (6)

Fall/Winter 05-6 : Game Two Recap

We tied 1/1, even after a 5 minute Sudden Death.

There were a few times I thought I was playing well, but overall I felt rather awkward. I think maybe my skates need sharpening ‘cause I was slipping in ways that I shouldn’t have been. But then I heard people complaining about the ice quality, so that probably lent to the unsteadiness, too.

I did draw a penalty. It was a comic effort. I skated up to the boards in time to collide with one of my own players. I got up, and an opposing player high-sticked my helmet partway off my head. So I was double-whammied, but the first part was my fault.

Husband, Splig, and the Cat came to watch (click for more pics):

STATS:
Goals : 0
Assists : 0
+/- : -1
Season +/- : 0

Posted by karianna at 09:49 AM | Comments (1)