Feeling Forty

Boy, once you hit 40 things go downhill fast!  I threw my back out this morning.  While I was sleeping.  Seriously, I was fine when I went to bed and crippled when I woke up.  Awesome.

Apart from random sleep injuries, the first weeks of being 40 has been good.  My birthday was big fun (yay!) even if I didn't get to make the annual pilgrimage to San Diego to visit Sister K (boo!).  It started out like any other Wednesday.  Q and I headed out to story time at the college.  Education students practice their read-aloud skills.  The day's story was If You Give a Pig a Party.  The students had us all wear party hats.  Very festive!   They read several pig books and we sang and did pig activities.  We both had a great time.

Mid-day, I had a mini 'significant birthday' morbid melt-down.  I made the mistake of doing the dismal Alzheimer's math:  if I follow in my mom's foot steps, I only have 20 years left before I start losing my marbles.  Z would only be 25.  Gah.  Luckily, Chica talked me down from the ledge.  Whew!

Bun took the afternoon off from work and once I had picked Z up from school we went to get pedicures.  She presented me with a sparkly tiara and a button that says 'It's all about me!'  Love!  On the way we stopped for bubble teas.  I haven't had one of those since I lived in Ginormousville!  We had spa pedicures with the works.  I even got an extra 30 minutes of foot rubbing.  Aaaaah!  Bliss.  I just wish I had gotten the guy pedicurist.  The teeny tiny gal that did mine couldn't work up much pressure with her teeny tiny fingers.  But still!  A foot rub!  Awesome!

Once our toes were gorgeous, we headed out for dinner.  T had made a reservation at Genghis Grill.  he picked it out without any input from me - and it was exactly what I would have chosen on my own.  Good husband!  The gals and their husbands met us there.  Unfortunately, one of the girls had a stomach bug so they couldn't make it, but the rest of us had a great time.  An evening without kids?  What's not to like?  All through dinner we kept saying, 'This is so fun!  Why don't we do this more often?'

We ended the evening with a fabulous Italian cream cake courtesy of Chica.  It had swirls and polka dots!  Does my girl know me or what?  So. Much. Fun.

I found out after the fact that Chica was the puppeteer orchestrating my birthday from all the way across the state.  She was burning up the phone lines the whole week leading up to my birthday.  When Bun was telling me about Chica's machinations she turned to me and said, "Chica really LOVES you.  She was determined that you would have a great birthday!"

With friends like these how could I help it?

Ah, San Diego

I don't know what has gotten into me lately. It is like I have a mental block about writing about my trip. Maybe because writing about it will just remind me that I don't get to go for another year? Or maybe because all the relaxation of my day at the spa vanished when my husband left for hunting and training and the kids and I got food poisoning? Good times. The most likely candidate in the Why Isn't Rae Ann Writing competition? The time-sucking vortex called Kindle. (But I've read at least 10 books in the last month!)

The really good times were to be had on my trip! Which was awesome! And filled with all things girl-y and sister-y. Considering that I had to be at the airport so early - we left the house at 6:30 a.m.! Blech! - the flight was really quite pleasant. Since cheapo US Airways charges for bags, everyone on the plane was trying to cram their weekend into a carry-on. The up side of being in the fourth/last boarding group? They gate checked my bag all the way to San Diego, so I didn't have to lug it around my layover! Oh, and my Kindle? To DIE for on the plane. Man, I love that thing. Best. present. ever.

I arrived in sunny California starving (again, cheap airline = no peanuts), so Sister K and I decided to go find some bait sushi. Picky T would never eat anything so exotic - if Wester even has a sushi place! - so this was a real treat. We went to Sushi Itto, which had a totally cool Asian/modern vibe. We got the rainbow rolls and the dot com rolls. The dot coms were the winner. Amazing!

Our next adventure was to go see Chris Rock's documentary Good Hair. Sister K is an Oprah addict, so she was interested from what she saw there. I worked for a long time in an all African-American elementary school, so I knew more about black hair than Sister K, but the movie was still eye-opening. I guess it must have been a good movie because we kept talking about it for my whole visit. We were disappointed that there wasn't a stop-action-animation of someone getting a weave so we could see what all went into that.

After the movie, we finally went back to Sister K's house. She had just completed a remodel that was supposed to be finished in time for my visit last year. The anticipation was killing me! Oh, my. It is GORGEOUS! It looks like something out of a magazine. Just wow. The really amazing part is just how different it is from its previous incarnation. Every surface had changed: walls, floors, counters, cabinets. The transformations was nothing short of amazing. Maybe someday I will have a house that is all grown up, too!

That night Mr. B cooked dinner for us out on the (new) built-in barbecue. Sister K and I enjoyed sitting by the fire pit and getting waited on!

No trip to San Diego would be complete without a trip to the zoo. This year, we went to the Wild Animal Park. I just can't get enough of that place! Our big adventure this year was the zip-line tour. Called the Flightline, it is supposed to mimic the flight of a California Condor. So. very. cool. I wish we had gotten some pictures of us in the harnesses - they were quite the contraptions. We got up to speeds of 60 mph as we flew across the savanna; picture cheeks flapping like you see in cartoons. We were both really glad we were wearing sun glasses! We also had a great time with the lorikeets. We purchased nectar and they ate right out of our hands! It was kind of like the pigeons in St. Peter's square, but not so overwhelming or flying-rat-y. Check the little-old-Asian-lady visor. I am one good looking woman.

Saturday was a relaxed girlie day. We went to brunch. We did a little shopping. We saw a movie. (Two in one weekend! Will the wonders never cease?) We went to see Julie and Julia. We thought we were going to be the only ones in the theater, but it got a respectable crowd. I enjoyed it, but was disappointed to find out that Julie divorced her husband in real life. Humph. That night we went to dinner at my fave Italian restaurant, Cafe Luna. As ever, it was delicious!

On Sunday we went to brunch (along with the entire population of San Diego) at the Hash House a Go Go. With a name like that, how could it help but be good? The restaurant is right in the middle of the arts district, so the people watching was primo. And the food? Holy moly, I might need a moment alone before I can even describe it. First off, it comes on plates big enough to sleep on. Sister K and I split two items and left as much food as we ate: banana cream dipped french toast; farm scramble with bacon and avocado; a biscuit the size of your head with homemade jam; bananas foster frozen latte. Heavenly.

Adventure-wise, Sunday afternoon was the highlight of the trip. We went on a guided Segway tour of the Gaslamp District in downtown San Diego. When we got there, we had to watch a safety video and sign the I-won't-sue-you-if-I'm-a-dumbass-and-fall-off waiver. The video was a RIOT. It was narrated by the Seguay inventor dude in a super thick Boston accident. He said things like, "If your Segway does blah, blah, step off and calm the hell down." and "If you do blah, blah you could get hurt wicked bad." We laughed the whole way through it.

Next we had a quick lesson on how to use a real Segway. They are amazing machines, but not quite as step-on-and-away-we-go as you might think. You do most of the controlling with your feet. About ten minutes in, I had what felt like shin splints on the soles of my feet. I was thinking, "Two hours of this? Oh, noes!" But after I stepped off and calmed the hell down (read: relaxed), all was well. We rode around downtown and got a bit of history/local color from our superlative guide, Ike. He was totally cool and super interesting in his own right (he'd lived a bunch of places and done a bunch of cool jobs), as well as being a fun guide. We buzzed down to the harbor then up the hill to Balboa Park. Too fun!

The piece de resistance of the visit was the trip to the spa. Each year we try a different spa. This year it was The Spa at Rancho Bernardo Inn. Love! We started out with facials. Lots of calming rose products. Ironically, my favorite part of this facial was the hand massage. Mmmm. Then, we had lunch movie star-style in a cabana by the pool. Ahi tuna sandwich with sweet potato fries? OMG. Best sandwich ever.

Next, we had 80-minute(!) massages. Sister K had the hot stone massage and I had an outdoor relaxation massage. I was in a private outdoor room, surrounded by trees and the sound of running water. It was, bar none, the best massage I have ever had. I was so relaxed that I think I dissolved into the table. I may or may not have passed out for the last 20 minutes of it. I love it when all the knots in my shoulders are gone!

We finished off our day sitting in the outdoor waterfall whirlpool. The water is saline instead of chlorinated, so it isn't bad for your hair and didn't leave you smelling like Clorox. Such a great day. All of that relaxing must have been hard work, because we could barely keep our eyes open through Dancing with the Stars. We were in bed, sound asleep by 9:00! Which was a good thing, as I had a 7:30 plane to catch the next morning.

And just like that (snap) my visit to California was over. No matter how long I stay, it isn't long enough. Thanks, Sister K, for my wonderful birthday visit. You are the best! I love you! I am counting the days until next year!

Number 39

Nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh! You say it's your birthday?
Nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh! It's my birthday, too, yeah!

Well, the 10th anniversary of my 29th birthday passed quietly and without fanfare. I got my (awesome) present last week and my party the week before. But it was a very nice day. The kids were both in school, so I had some blessed time to myself. Which I used to renew my driver's license (probably time I took care of that since I'm married to a trooper and I have been illegal since 30 days after I moved here. Whoops!), drop off my sewing machine to get repaired and a quick trip to Target (where I left with only a toilet seat and a curtain rod. Such restraint!)

T left a bouquet of flowers and birthday cards for me to find when I got up. There was one from the dogs, one from the kids on which Z had laboriously written 'happy birthday' and a silly one from T that he wrote enough mushy stuff on to make my cry. The kids were relatively well behaved all day, so that was nice, too.

Our sitter fell through, so instead of going out, T made dinner for me. Funny how when he 'makes dinner' all he has to do is cook meat over flames. I still set the table, make the sides, fix the drinks, clear the table and do the dishes. Oh, well, I'll take what I can get!

This is the first year since we have been together that my birthday wasn't on the opening weekend of deer season. Since I had the audacity to be born in early November, I am usually competing with a mythical 40-point buck for my husband's attention. This is the first birthday in YEARS that I have actually spent with my husband/family. Usually, I am in California enjoying the tender ministrations of Sister K while my hubs is out hunting for mean/giant deer.

This year, I get the best of both worlds! I am leaving today for Ginormousville where I will drop the kids off at Grandma's. I leave for CA waaaaay too early tomorrow morning. It is the only time in recent memory that I have been excited about getting up early! I get back next Wednesday. I am sure I will be full of stories!

Post-birthday Wrap Up

Not to brag or anything (okay, I am totally bragging), but I ROCKED the kids' birthdays this year. My mom wasn't much for birthday parties. I was the third kid and she was tired. After the year she ordered the 3-D Cookie Monster cake and I got the flu so she had to cancel the party she was pretty much done. I was three. Anyhoo, I guess that is why I feel compelled to at least put forth some effort in the party area.

Z's princess party was the event of the year with the pre-school set. We had it at the Princess Room of a local store. Z calls it the Princess Parlor. All the little girls got to wear princess dresses, have their nails sparkle painted, make-up done with face jewels and have their hair done with sparkly clips and ribbon scrunchies. All I had to provide was the cake: a massive, fondant covered, iridescent princess castle. I really outdid myself. No one could believe that I had done it myself. The girls got to take home a pink feather boa and a little fuzzy pink purse with lip gloss, body glitter, powder and some jewelry inside. They were in heaven. All the girls clustered around Z when she opened her presents and looked like we had cornered the market on pink, sparkly, pre-school glamour.

Q's construction party was much more low-key, but I think it was just as fun. I made a hard hat cake with construction cone candles. Too cute! We had planned a picnic in a park with cake and punch and all of our friends and family. Earlier in the week, the weather was perfect. I had even dressed the kids in shorts. But, this being Texas and all, the weather changed. It went from the mid-80's on Thursday to the low 40's today. I guess it was a good thing I totally dropped the ball and hadn't invited anyone. Heh.

We ended up doing the cake and punch part, but we did it at home with just us, the grandparents, Sister L and her husband R. Who needs a park when you have a doting aunt and uncle? Sister L is better than any park! Q is particularly fond of R because he is so willing to play pirates with him. In fact, it was R who introduced him to the game back at Christmas by putting his eye patch on him for the first time. Q turned all gifts into part of his piratical ensemble: the knight costume, the pirate accessories, the lion in the Fisher Price jungle, the vacuum cleaner. It was all good. Aaaaaarrrg!

On This Day...

Today is my little man's second birthday. Two years. I just can't believe it.

One year ago, on this very day, my sweet baby boy was battling a cold and smearing cake all over himself, surrounded by his doting extended family.

Two years ago, on this very day and at this very time, I was holding my brand spanking new baby boy while he got the hang of nursing.

Wow! Time goes so quickly! To commemorate Q's second birthday, I thought I would tell the story of his birth. It was quite an adventure. I published this on our family website, so some of you may have read it before. I think it is worth reading again!

. .. ... .. .

Q's Arrival: a Wild Ride

It was a wild ride, but Q arrived safe and sound at 3:55pm on February 26, 2007.

We were planning to attend a family funeral in the afternoon, but when I woke up that morning I was having either indigestion or very early labor pangs. My doula (labor assistant) advised me to take a 15 minute stroll and see if that affected the pains at all. If it did, I was in labor. If not, it was probably a bad taco.

Sure enough, the contractions intensified, so I settled in to labor at home. My first labor had gone very quickly with the aid of Pitocin, so I figured that I was in for a full day of labor before Q hatched. My doula was attending another birth, but assured me that she would get on the road ASAP (she was over an hour away). My doctor was stuck in Vegas due to weather. She was expected back the next day. The doc on call was the worst nightmare of a natural childbirth gal like me: an old-school, crotchety, shut-up-and-do-what-I-say kind of doc. Yay.

Around 11:30 my pangs, though mild, became insistent enough that I thought I should start timing them. They were a comfortable distance apart. At one o'clock I sent Tommy out to get lunch. I figured it would be the last decent meal I would get for a while.

After lunch I decided to labor in the tub for a while. Z got in with me and that was a hoot. Picture a naked two-year-old and a bikini clad full-term pregnant woman in a jacuzzi tub. Ha! Z was splashing around and Mom-in-law was dutifully recording times on the contractions. The pains were still tolerable, so I stayed in until the water cooled, then decided to get out. By this time, I was regretting the decision to have a hamburger, but was desperately thankful for my cherry limeade.

After a bathroom pit stop (boy, that burger was really not agreeing with me!), I got dressed (with some difficulty) and went to lie down on the bed. Suddenly, the contractions weren't so easy. What a wimp! I convinced myself that I was being a total weenie, since I just knew Q wasn't coming for hours and hours.

T, totally in denial, was flitting about (in as much as a Mr. Manly Man can flit) finishing up last minute minutia and saying, "But I'm not ready, yet!" I grabbed him on a pass through the bedroom and asked him to put some pressure on my back. He did, but I kept asking him to press harder. At one point, I think he thought that he might actually push my spine through my abdominal wall, so he decided he had pushed long enough just walked away - in the middle of a contraction! I am afraid my head spun around and I might have daintily bellowed, "DON'T LEAVE ME IN THE MIDDLE OF A CONTRACTION!!!" He got this deer in the headlights look and said, "But I didn't know you were having a contraction!" What could he have possibly thought I was doing? Making a late pregnancy play for a sympathy back rub? Sheesh!

About that time, 3:30 or so, Diane the Doula, arrived. I asked her to apply pressure to my lower back (where T had abandoned me) to help with a particularly bad pain. Her eyes got wide, but she pressed until the contraction passed. She said it was that low because Q's head was descending. In her low-key way, she said we needed to go to the hospital. Like, now.

On the way to the door of my bedroom, I am knocked flat by a contraction that made me want to push. Yikes! We hustle (okay, waddle very quickly) down the stairs to the garage where I am stopped again at the front fender of my car, trying with all my might not to push. Splash!

My water broke in true dramatic Hollywood fashion all over the garage floor. Z gave me a puzzled look and asked, "Mommy tinkle?" There was a brief debate about whether I would go the hospital or deliver at home (Diane was one class away from becoming a midwife), but I knew all of my pro-medicine/procedures-are-great! family would lose their collective minds if I stayed. I wasn't feeling quite so urgent after my water broke, so off we went to the hospital.

Did you know that a Ford Freestyle will go 110 mph if you are truly in a hurry? T called ahead to his dispatch buddies to warn them we were coming hell-for-leather. I think I was so alarmed by the speed that there was no chance of a contraction en route!

I didn't have another contraction until we arrived at the hospital. As I was struggling not to have Q in the car in front of the hospital, a helpful bystander ran up to the Labor and Delivery ward and told them I was coming.

I made it to the elevator, but then I had to push. I bore down and bellowed like a bull. A hapless visitor had made the mistake of stepping onto the elevator with us. Diane had to pull my pants down to see if his head had come out. Since it had not, I jumped (okay, collapsed carefully) into the wheel chair and was literally RUN down the hall to the first available room. The bystander? Took one step out of the elevator and passed smooth out. It was the talk of the maternity ward.

As soon as I was even remotely horizontal (and, T tells me, before my pants were even completely off), Q's head was out. One more push and the rest of him was out, too. Wow! No doctor. No IV. No hospital registration. The nurse just caught him and put him on my chest. They were in a bit of a hurry to cut the cord, but I guess they aren't used to crunchy gals like me.

Once the excitement was over, Dr. Crankypants came in to patch me up, grumbling the whole time about natural childbirth-ers waiting too long to come to the hospital and the malfunctioning light above the table. (Small town usually has one new baby per week. For whatever reason, Q was baby number seven that day. And the only one without complications. There was literally no room at the in and they had to put me in a room with no surgical lighting.)

No one was as surprised as I was at how things turned out, though in retrospect, there were some pretty clear signposts along the way that it was time to go to the hospital. But all's well that ends well. We went home early the next morning.

Post-partum Post Script-

When we got home the next day, I found the sheet of paper on which Mom-in-law had been recording my contractions. They had been one to two minutes apart since before I got out of the tub(!). Incredulous, I asked her about it. Her response? "You told me to write them down, not tell you how far apart they were!" Yeah, she's an RN.

About a month after Q was born, we got a sizable check in the mail. It was from my OB/GYN. We got a refund because there was no doctor in attendance! Sweet!