This is really big!

Its about time.

One month (or so)

I remember writing the post about Dillon's birth. He has a birth story that I love to look back on. It was exciting, and painful, and funny, and I became quite delirious. My favorite people were with me. I like to re-read what I wrote, because it has been over two years, and how the mind does forget!

So, I want to write a little about Korenna's birth. Of course, it was totally different! I knew the day she was going to be born. I knew how she was going to be born. No surprises there.

We picked the day because it was mathematically significant. (Okay, I picked the day because I am an obsessive control freak. 01/24/08 is a pretty number! Powers of two. Isn't that nice? I love it.)

Prior to going in the morning of the 24th, I had about four days of the worst pain I could imagine. My chest hurt when I breathed. I could barely move. I was taking cough syrup, some muscle relaxers, and some Vicodan for pain. It was bad. I couldn't wait to get this baby out so that I could get some good meds IN ME to help with whatever was ailing me.

Dillon stayed with my mom the night before because we had to be at the hospital at some ridiculous hour like 5:30 or something. After we checked in, I laid on the table and cried, waiting for some kind of relief. The anesthesiologist was my angel. She gave me so much good stuff that I couldn't feel my legs for days!

To me, the main significance of all that ridiculous pain was to contrast with what came next. They took this baby girl out of me, and she had such a sweet, tiny, girly whimper. And she was so pretty. And she had such long fingers. And such curly legs! I held her for a minute then was whisked away to recovery.

My family got to watch her get a bath and all the fun "I just got born" activities in the nursery. She sucked her thumb while she was being weighed. When they brought her to me, she was this tiny little nugget wrapped up tight in a hospital blanket. She just slept and was so sweet and easy.

When Dillon was born, I remember being instantly in love with him. He was perfect. Nothing could compare to what I felt when I first saw him. I was so nervous that it wouldn't be like that with Korenna. And it wasn't.

Instead of being instant and overwhelming, the love I feel for her grows every day. I am in awe of this little girl, and how she is building such a big place in my heart. I treasure each minute of holding her little hands, stroking her babysoft hair, and smelling her babysoft smell. I know that God has created something in her that He has never created before. I am so blessed to be her mama, and to be a part of what she will become.

Chapters of a book not yet written

There are so many parenting books out there, but not one that specifically addresses my needs. I don't have time, or else I would go ahead and write it. Any volunteers? Here are the chapters I would like to see addressed:

1) How to delay infant poop until the clean diaper has been on for more that 30 seconds

2) Strawberry Poptart: does that count as a fruit?

3) Why one boob is better than the other (An Infant's Perspective)

4) Step-by-step guide on how to get residual party glitter off your son's privates without him thinking it is a tickling game

5) Five reasons REM sleep is overrated

6) Multisyllabic nonsense - interpreting toddler babble, especially with constant references to The Backyardigans episodes

7) Why baby's hunger is directly inverse to the level of engorgement you have reached

That is all I can think of for now. These hot topics would make for a great bestseller, if I could only find an author whose thoughts are more coherent than, "Did I just change her? I can't remember... maybe I didn't. Maybe... ooops. Well, now it doesn't matter..."

Any takers?

*sigh*

We went to the doctor today for Dillon's ears. Surprise, surprise.

He just got tubes put in for the second time in the middle of December.

Guess what? One fell out.

Yeah, I know.

He has had two ear infections in the month since it fell out, and so now we have scheduled yet another ear tube surgery for next week. These new tubes are supposed to stay for a few years.

Really? Cause if this doesn't work, I am going to make my own tubes for him out of silly putty and a drinking straw. A lot cheaper, and probably just as effective.

Season Seven

After six seasons, you would think I would grow tired of watching what has essentially become a parody of itself, but Fox still calls my name on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Maybe because I identify so strongly with the vocal rejects? Maybe because everything else is on hold while the writers frantically write three months worth of episodes to my other shows?

This will make me feel better:


Dear Judges,

There is no such thing as "a million percent" or "a billion percent" or even, ridiculously enough, "a trillion percent." Saying such a number does not seem smart about math. It does not make you seem smart about anything.

My personal preference is that, for the sake of emphasis, you may say "one hundred and ten percent" which conveys an appropriate amount of extra effort. Saying these other exorbitant numbers just to imply that you are truly positive about a contestant's skill just makes you look stupid.

Also, Paula - you look like a bobble-head when you nod to the music.

Just my opinion,

Amanda Sue

Come and get it!

Our church family has been so wonderful over the past couple of weeks. I have had visits, calls, and emails from people, and best of all, several meals have been provided by families within our church. In addition, a couple of nights, we have eaten with my parents, and one night Daniel picked up fast food.

Overall, it has been so nice to not have to worry about what to make for dinner!

Last night was an exception though, as these "Meals to Go" are winding down. Daniel perused the fridge and concluded that we had "nothing to eat" so he was going to be in charge of cooking. Well, yay for me! I still get to sit around and be served, so please don't think I was complaining.

Daniel surfed the net and used one of my favorite sites to come up with a few ideas. He made a list, checked it twice, and headed off to the store for the ingredients we didn't have on hand. He came home and made himself very busy in the kitchen while the kids and I relaxed with a Tivo'd episode of Ellen.

"It's ready!" he said, not many minutes off the mark of 6:30 that we target for dinner most nights.

We settled down to a meal reminiscent of Chili's Triple Play. We had pigs in a blanket, chips and Rotel dip, and pinwheels. I would say the pinwheels were the most work. He had to mix some cream cheese filling and spread it on tortillas, and then let them chill before cutting them. Whew. Talk about labor intensive.

By far, it was the most interesting meal we have had lately. His efforts were noble and sincere, but I won't be signing him up to prepare meals for other new moms. Seems like it might take a special someone to appreciate a dinner like that.

Do you really want to know this?

Korenna is eleven days old. She is past the point in time when her little umbilical clamp was supposed to fall off, so I have been scrutinizing it all day long. (It looks okay, but I wanted to make sure she wasn't going to have to have it surgically removed before she ever wore a two-piece bathing suit.)

Anyway, in an effort to keep her awake a little while this evening, Daniel and I decided to give her a bath. I got warm water in a bowl by the kitchen sink, while Daniel entertained her in the living room. I called out that I was ready, and he brought her to me.

Laying her down gently on the mesh bathtub thingy, he paused for a second, then he said, "Dang! Where is her belly button thing?"

I glanced down and saw that it was missing.

We looked on the counter, floor and in her diaper. Nowhere.

Um, this has the potential to become really gross. That thing looks like a raisin, and we all know Tux is none too picky about what he eats.

Daniel backtracked to the living room to search the couch. Nothing. Her bedroom. Nothing. Finally, back in the kitchen, he found it, hidden in the fringe on the floor mat.

"What do I do with it?" he asked, holding it up for me to see.

"Sick! Throw it away!" I said.

Not to be heartless. I mean, it is a remnant of the cord that connected her to me, through which she was fed and nourished. It brought her life. But still. Sick.

At least Tux didn't find it first.

Not about babies or boobs, I promise

Check THIS out.

How would you like to be the one refused service? Are they going to have a scale near the entrance? Are they going to keep a tally on the number of times they have been served? And what if the person is eating a salad?

What a stupid idea and a waste of legislators' time.