Just In Case

Mommy, just in case you wanted to know where all that organic granola that was loaded with high-in-iron tree nuts went . . . I ATE IT! It was very good, thank you.

Someone with another perspective on Prop 8: http://www.lathefamily.org/2008/10/dont_take_it_so_personally_5.shtml

Licking the Dirt Off of Potatoes and Other Things That Have Come to Mind Lately

PART A
Is that weird, you know, to wanna lick the dirt off of some grimy redskin potatoes? I think this anemia thing has gone way, way overboard.

PART B
Proposition 8 has gotten to be one of the scariest ballot measures out there. We had a similar pot of pee pee in MI a few years ago that unfortunately went the wrong way. Petra is horrified by the Prop 8 people. My poor little 7-year old was reduced to tears one afternoon when there were an unusual number of Prop 8 supporters at the intersections the other day. "Mommy," she screamed "they're everywhere. What are we going to do?" She was crying. Petra, God bless her, cannot fathom why there are people out there that have so much hate in their hearts. Quite frankly, I cannot understand that either. What does it matter to them? Where's the Christian love that they speak of? Why do they hate so damn much? Good old 3-year old little Annike, the best comic timing in the world, managed to shout out the open window from her toddler car seat "Gay is great! No on 8!" Gotta love her.
Yesterday, Lars had the kids and Maddie and Taylor in the car as they drove by a group of Yes On Prop 8'ers and a smaller group of No on Prop 8'ers. He heard Petra telling her girlfriends about Prop 8 and why it is bad. She turned to Maddie, who has politically sage parents, and asked her if she knew about Prop 8. Maddie knows about Prop 8. She turned to both girls and said something to the effect of "we have to vote no on Prop 8 because my grandpa is gay." Taylor in turn says, "yeah, my dad's the gay architect." Lars had a good laugh, number one because Greg (Taylor's daddy) is not gay, but secondly because when he asked her what in the world she was talking about she said "yeah, I don't get it."
And for the record, even in the absence of gay grandpas, there is no way Lars and I would ever stoop to the dessicant, soulless, rotting levels of our counterparts and vote yes on Prop 8.
Part C
Ice is really, really good.
Part D
Ultimette moves like a snake, all writhey and twisty. I wonder if she has any limbs. I know she has hair. Probably chocolaty brown hair. I've been eating a lot of brownies with my new brownie pan, courtesy of Big Brother Chad and fam, in which every piece is an edge piece. Saved my marriage, I tell ya. Now, I can't decide if this section is about snakes, babies or brownies. I think I need to revisit awful Mrs. Mitchell's senior AP English class for a refresher.
Part E
The other thing on my mind is a good book I read. I would save it for book club, but I am a book club drop out. I can't take it anymore. The book is called Barefoot by Elin Hilderbrand. Good laughs, good cries.
Part F
My brain is rattling around from all my ice crunching. Will I still have this infatuation when I'm not pregnant?

Pumpkin Patch

Back in Michigan we went to the best local produce farm on the planet, Makielski's. The best raspberries ever could be picked from Makielski's. They also had a magnificent patch of ginormous pumpkins every year. They produced their crops organically and never used pesticides. Makielski's was our family's fall tradition. Last year was our first fall in California, but the wild fires prevented us from exploring the area's pumpkin patches. This year was our first year to the local pumpkin patch. I was feeling a bit better yesterday, less nauseous and less dizzy so despite the 95-degree heat in the inland areas (where there's a bit more agriculture) we all hit the road to go pumpkin patchin'.

Some of us got wheelbarrow rides.

Thems are some mighty fine pumpkins you've got there.

Oh my! What wonderful news!

Would you look at that? How precious.

My own little 34-1/2 week pumpkin.

A better look of my pale belly with rambunctious little Ultimette poking around inside.

Pulling a little pumpkin off the vine. Wouldn't budge.

Come help me with your garden shears, Brother.

Eeeek! There was something eewy crawling on it.

See my pin?

Hemoglobin

I'm having some issues with this little guy:









We'll call him Henry the Hemoglobin Molecule.

About a week ago I started to feel dizzy quite often. Soon, shortness of breath developed. Then spots developed before my eyes. Then the ringing in my ears.

I've not been my usual cheery self. My hemoglobin fell to 8.9, my hematocrit is a little over 26%. Functioning in a reasonable fashion has fallen by the wayside. It's all I can do to get my cups of ice and dizzily trip to my bed, 'read' Green Eggs and Ham with Soren -- fortunately I memorized it by age 4, and cheer on Petra as she reads to me from Ramona and Her Father. I can't tolerate the oral iron very well, I can't tolerate this degree of anemia, I can't stay awake, I can't fall asleep let alone stay asleep, I can't go function at work and I can't afford to stay home. I have no energy for tears. If you can believe it, I can't even muster the energy to plan out my next donut run.

I did have enough of a burst of energy to attend the opening night of High School Musical 3 with Lars and the kids. It was super. I love that stuff. I even danced a little in the parking lot with Soren. We all laughed at me, belly-on-legs shaking my droopy white-girl tushy. It's a good thing.

Trying a different Rx called Repliva. It already made me barfy after just the first dose. If the Repliva continues to be problematic (or possibly in addition to it) then the next step is iron transfusions, if that doesn't work then we'll move toward blood transfusions. Though my last ultrasound on Tuesday went very well (baby weighs over 4-1/2 lbs and fluid index is 12), I worry about how she is managing with potentially compromised O2 perfusion. I deeply and ardently hope that little Ultimette is handling her oxygen-poor home well. We all love her so darn much.

List

Though she may look like her Daddy, little Petra is a lot like me. For example, she likes candy. Unique, no? Okay, another example, ummmmmm . . . Hmm?

She and Soren are on vacation right now. She's been making lists, something I do a bit compulsively, each night before she goes to bed to guide her through the following day. She's been following them, too. She's a good follow-througher.

Today's list:

1) wake-up

2) eat brefest

3) brush hair

4) get dresst

5) make bed

6) clean room

7) call friend

8) play

9) eat lunch

10) play

11) clean-up

12) pick-up Annike

13) play

14) eat dinner

15) brush teeth

16) get on jammies

17) clean room

18) read

19) go to sleep

So far this morning she's gotten through item number 7. She's at a standstill now because the friend that she called is not presently available. BTW, I've copied her spelling -- I know how to spell breakfast and dressed.

Catching Up

I'll try to recap some of the excitement that's been happening around here, and by excitement I mean the mundane predictability of day-to-day life.
I'll start with me since that is what I know best. Here is Ms. Kelly Jelly Belly pictured above, laying on top of 7-bags of mulch. It was comfy and it smelled good. Down there is my belly with a 33-1/2 week old fetus. Ultima and I started our biweekly testing this week. The first day didn't got so well, I had lost 3-pounds, it took an hour to get her heart rate reactive, then during the amniotic fluid scan it initially didn't seem like she had enough fluid. Things righted themselves and we were finally on our way. On Friday's testing appointment, she had a reactive NST right away, fluid wasn't checked, I measured well and my weight was up 1-1/2 pounds. Despite my fatigue, I actually look forward to going to work at the hospital these days. Primarily my energy for work is due to the fact that we have a fabulous ice machine on the unit and I can consume ice to my overburdened heart's content. Considering I'm craving ice just as much as ever and now have been having increasingly more common dizzy spells, spots in my vision, ringing in my ears and exceptional fatigue I'm guessing my hemoglobin hasn't improved with the iron supplements. Otherwise, some back pain and difficulty sleeping are a hindrance but certainly to be expected. Lars seems to be concerned with what I'm lifting and what I'm eating these days, but mostly he has been supportive with cracking my back and filling my cups with ice.

Petra (above #3 in white jersey) spent most of the weekend with Taylor. It was a double-game weekend, with one yesterday morning and one way far away this morning. Greg and Kristen took their kids and Petra out to Temecula last night where they spent the night. We drove out with our little ones this morning to watch their game. There were only 7-girls for our team today, so they all played the whole time in the 90-degree heat. Petra had several break-aways down the field toward the goal, but most of the other team's players were the size of 5th graders and so she was thwarted. No matter, we were very proud of how hard she played. Right now, she's playing school with her siblings and the neighbor boy. She is the teacher. Her 2-week fall break starts tomorrow, Lars will take tomorrow off to be with the kids. She can really use the break, I'm excited for her to sleep in and lounge around.

Annike was a bit amiss without her sister, but she and Soren made do. She had a t-ball game yesterday, per Lars' report she did very well. He took a million pictures, as usual. Recently she told Lars and me how excited she was for the baby to come. We asked her why and she replied, "because then I'll be big and I can wear a bra!" OMG! We tried to put it all into perspective for her, though mostly once she found out we would not be getting her a bra this Thanksgiving she tuned us out. What's a parent of a 3-year old to do?

Here is a picture of the quality of soil in our front lawn. It's a clayish, dusty, pine needley mixture. Lars and Soren worked hard on it yesterday while I guarded the mulch.

I just love taking pictures of Lars through this tree. Dunno why, just do.

The man isn't afraid of hard labor. His softy scientist hands are filled with callouses and blisters.

Now, I don't know much about the physics of landscaping, but I'm pretty sure that rake is upside down.

It's all so intriguing, no? Man vs. the soil. It could be a novel. I could write it. Under a pen name, of course. Anonymity is so important when you're a millionaire. I'd call myself Libre Stilo.

Well, there's the end product (almost). Those boys put six Bird's of Paradise and three irises in that rocky soil that day, folks. 10-bags of mulch were laid down and spread out (I helped with that). Now, 1/4 of our front lawn is landscaped. Looks mighty purdy, sho' nuff.

And now for my Brazilian Helper Man, his Daddy's right hand boy. When there's a tool to be used, or dirt to be moved Daddy can always count on little Soren. Soren had a great soccer game yesterday, he scored 2-goals. His first goal he made from all the way across the field while he was standing in the goalie box, he was determined to clear that ball out of there that he booted it as hard as he could. It was phenomenal. The second goal was from midfield, he just popped it right in. Beautiful.

Then he dug some holes in the bedrock to get these irises in the ground. He picked the irises out at Home Depot. Daddy let him ride the big cart that was piled with mulch.

Such a good worker.

Workin' with his #1 teammate, Daddy. Those two are one in the same.

Soren was a bit troubled in Petra's absence, too. We kept him busy with the Home Depot run and then a trip down to IKEA, where we probably permanently damaged our credit. Soren's pretty excited about his, and Ultima's, new furniture (it matches the pre-existing furniture). On the way home, Soren tried to count to a google. He got to 100, then it was pretty spotty after that until he got to 'sixty-forty hundred google.'

Maggie had the itchy-scratchies. I gave her a flea treatment this morning. She's got relief all over her face.

Can't you leave a dog to scratch in peace? Sheesh, Ma.

Maggie's Way

We have a dog named Maggie. We rescued her from a bad home situation in Jackson, MI. She came to us as an 8-week old baby. We were pregnant with Petra at the time. Maggie's birthday is December 7th, 2000.

At the time of her adoption, Maggie was not our only baby. We also had Piggy and Toussy (short for Toussainte l'Ouverture). Piggy and Toussy were rescued bunnies from Lars' lab work. They begrudgingly let Maggie join our family, though, it was always clear from the get go who the top dog was. Toussy, our little girl bunny, ruled the roost. Piggy, our grumpy old man bunny - who is pictured above sharing some of Maggie's Eukanuba for dinner - was second in command, though Toussy was generally deferential to him as he was older and wiser. At the bottom of the pecking order came poor little Magdalena. When she first joined our family she was a mere 6-lbs, where as Piggy was pushing 8-1/2 and Toussy was probably 9-lbs. As they were both bigger than her at the start, and bunnies have very little concept for how things grow, they maintained their dominance over their doggy sister until their respective end-of-days. Maggie did not seem to miss them when they 'departed', I think they offended her rabbit hunting sensibilities.

"Say 'cheese' everyone . . ." This is Maggie (who did her best to smile) with 7-month old Soren, 26-year old me, 26-year old Lars, and 2-1/2 year old Petra back in our first house in Ypsilanti.

Maggie was a big fan of winter. She loved to toss snow around with her snout and roll around in the cold. In this picture, Maggie is 5-years old, Soren is 2, Lars is 27, Annike is 7 or 8 months and Petra is 4-years old.

Of all of our children, Maggie prefers Petra the most (both 5-years old in this picture). Maggie and Petra were babies together. When we brought Petra home from the hospital, Maggie was very excited to greet her. She waggled over, put her nose on Petra's newborn belly and nuzzled her. Then she walked over to Lars and me and seemed to say "way to go guys!" When we brought Soren home, she slowly got up from her chair and greeted Lars and me in a ho-hum fashion; however, she did not acknowledge Soren in the least. When we brought Annike home 2-years later, she did not bother to get up from her chair, instead she opened one eye to glare at us and then blew her cheeks out and groaned. I can't imagine what she'll do when we bring our next little one home.

In the shower at Bubba and Gramma's after rolling in goose poop. This dog cannot pass up a pile of excrement.

Our neighbor dog, Sam, attacked Maggie on one of our last nights in Ann Arbor. Fortunately, Maggie is short, so instead of getting her carotid he got her ear and ripped it in two. Maggie's ear has since healed very nicely, but remains forked at the tip.

Here's our Queen Bee these days. Aging and regal but sweet and kind. All she asks is for a soft bed to sleep in at night, a Lazy-Boy recliner to guard the house from during the day, and a little bit of grub every now and then.