Yes, I’m on a posting rampage tonight. Still haven’t finished part 2 of Posy’s story though… don’t know when that’s going to happen!
Heather over at Open Adoption Bloggers organized a Blog Hop with the question:
What is your favorite room/spot/piece of art in your home and why?
I knew immediately what spot I would choose, but I kept waiting to take a decent picture of it. I’ve accepted that that’s never going to happen, so before this post is even more overdue, here goes…
My favorite spot in our house is our red chair. We bought it thinking it would go in P’ito’s room, but it wound up in the living room. It’s my favorite spot to give Posy a bottle, read P’ito a story, or just curl up with a book myself. It rocks and sways and has an ottoman that rocks and sways along with it. It’s super cosy. Here is Posy in her Halloween costume on the red chair.
As those of you who are my devoted followers facebook friends may have read, I had a little mishap with a ladder yesterday. This is particularly sad because
a) it is only quite recently that I have conquered a phobia of ladders, and
b) we had plans for a babysitter and an attempt at one month late anniversary dinner.
(Aside: I believe we may be destined to NEVER go out alone together again. The three times we have tried this either I have been sick or Pili has had a stomach flu.)
Our kitchen has this neat little bay window
Last Winter the kitchen was freezing all winter long with big drafts coming in through the sides of this window. When we got a chance to see the previous owners, we asked them what they had done about that.
They looked at it and said, oh well, you never closed the window all the way. Then they allowed as how that was a little tricky and called for someone to go up on a ladder and push from the outside while the other person locked from the inside. Do you see where this is going?
P’ito is napping. Pili is sitting in the window nook, and I am attempting to shove the #(@*! window into place.
I am still not exactly sure what happened. I felt the ladder slipping, and the next thing I knew, I was on the asphalt driveway, with the wind thoroughly knocked out of me and my back hurting. Poor Pili, who saw me disappear from the window, came running out,. Eventually I was able to report that I could wiggle my toes and I didn’t think she should call 911. At this point, P’ito woke up from his nap and began howling.
Rather delicately, I got up and walked into the house to pour myself a stiff drink take a couple of advil. After a few minutes, the oh thank g-d I’m alive started to wear off and the holy crap this hurts started to take over. It hurt when I breathed – not in a stabbing way, but still, ouch ouch ouch.
I think I ought to go and get checked out, I say. And off we head to the ER, almost two year old in tow.
After two hours of waiting (SPH, for those who know our fair city) I was finally rolled into the back. And then the stupid diabetes fun began. I tested and not surprisingly, was a bit on the high side (312, but who’s counting?) The nurse suggested that I not bolus, since they wouldn’t let me eat until the x-rays were done. Are you sure, say I? Well how brittle is your diabetus? asks she. I. Hate. That. Term.
Then of course, the doctor wants blood work. Can I just get a damn x-ray please?
The x-rays reveal absolutely nothing, so I wait for the doctor to come and give me a prescription for happy pills. But my the bloodwork and had revealed… are you ready for this? That my blood sugar was high. So they want a urine sample. I know that they need to cover their asses, but at this point I had bolused, and my sugar was a nice tame 144.
Grouchily I shuffle off to pee in a cup.
And then I wait. For about another hour and a half. At some point the nurse comes by and I ask her to please call Pili, who has taken the hyper boy home before he breaks a Very Important Medical Instrument or eats a non-latex glove, and let her know that I am not Christopher Reeve. She gets our neighbor to come over and mind the sleeping boy and once she is there, things are Much Better.
I start to wonder. Why is this taking so long? I know I don’t have ketones. But if my urine sample was okay, wouldn’t they have let me go already? Oh, someone is having a heart attack. I feel like an ungrateful wretch. Finally, the doctor comes back, watches me shuffle around in my very elegant gown, and writes me a script.
Today I ache in places I didn’t know could ache. Still – so grateful – for being in one piece, for my wonderful Pili, for modern medicine…
I’m still not sure how we’re going to get the damn windows closed. Maybe just enlist a third person to hold the ladder…
And just for the heck of it, a couple of cute kid moments:
P’ito has been obsessed of late with the book Grandfather Twilight. We read it pretty much every. single. night. At dusk, he wants to go around to every window in the house and observe Papa Twilight bringing the evening on. So the other night, he’s looking out the patio door around 6ish. He points to the cat, who is snoozing peacefully, and says “Kitty Cat! Papa Twilight!” (which sounds more like “tie light”). When the cat does not respond, he repeats – Kitty Cat! Papa Twilight! Getting more and more urgent in tone – come on you lazy cat, don’t you want to see the wonderful Papa Twilight? What’s wrong with you? The cat continues to ignore him, so he throws a truck at him. Well, it was really cute up to that point.
We have been teaching P’ito to say Obama. So as I am listening to NPR on the way to work in the morning, I hear this little voice suddenly pipe up from the backseat – “Obama!” “Go’bama!” That’s my boy.
Tags: , health insurance, moving, type 1 diabetes
Most of the boxes are unpacked. And glory glory hallelujah, we finally have both internet and a landline.
Both Pepito and his mommies have been enjoying the new house.
Looking out at his new backyard.
Proudly walking (not independently, thank g-d) amidst the boxes.
Peering through the “chubby kat” cat door.
The house has a semi-finished basement room, which we call the playroom. Here’s the “adult” side. I got this on Saturday at a yard sale for $60 – delivered.
And while the mommies play pool, the boy can play with his toys… A lot of these were left for us by the previous owner.
I started my new job on Monday. So far… so good. I am a little nervous about the expectations people have of me – after waiting a year for someone to start, it’s easy for that person (um, me) to become supergirl, the imaginary solution to all problems. On the other hand, the position has been vacant for a long time, and I’m basically starting from scratch (well, from scratch with an office full of files going back to 1973), so anything I do will be better than the nothing that was happening before, right?
I have to choose an insurance plan, or negotiate a pay raise (already, I know: I am supergirl) that would enable me to stay on Pili’s excellent insurance and spare new employer the expense of covering me. Amazingly, for a very small, rather financially challenged organization, they are paying my whole premium. This may change once they discover what I will do to their insurance costs…
Last year, Pili paid $3800 dollars for the privilege of having me on her insurance. If Employer paid me $4000 extra, I would happily stay on her coverage. Of course, Pili’s employer’s contributions to my health care are not tax-deductible – in fact, they are counted as additional income and she is taxed on them!
I am usually pretty good at figuring these things out, but for some reason, my eyes have been glazing over on this decision. Tomorrow I will find a detailed current benefits & costs list for Pili’s insurance and post the new options and the current plan here and let you all tell me what to do. I also have to find out how diabetes and pump supplies are covered under the different plans… most of them have a 50% co-pay for non-generic perscriptions. I am terrible at swallowing pills, and the generic version of my anti-depressent pill is not coated, so it always gets stuck in the back of my throat and tastes nasty. In order to avoid tasting battery acid in the back of my mouth all day, I have my doctor write that one DAW and pay extra for the name brand. But I may get depressed all over again thinking about how much that stuff will cost me with a 50% copay.
Finally – I swear this isn’t strictly a mommy blog… although I know it sure looks that way at the moment.
But our boy has started doing some really incredibly cute things. He’s cruising all over the furniture, and he loves to push his little walkie thing around. He has also started kissing. Last night, we were reading Whose Knees are These and when we got to the last page with the picture of the baby, he kissed it over and over again.
This morning, he was occupying himself with his second favorite passtime – pull-all-the-books-off-the-shelf – (his first favorite is pull-all-the-shoes-off-the-rack) and he pulled out The Happiest Toddler on the Block. After studying it for a while, he started kissing the little girl on the cover. By the time I got the camera out though, he was trying to eat the dust jacket. I hope it’s true… you are what you eat!
This post is already reeedicuklously long, so I will not get into the Great Sleep Wars of 2007 that have been waged around here. Except to say, please tell me about how you and your partner
fought bitterly disagreed entirely had very difficult times deciding what to do with a child who Does Not Like to Go to Bed. Even when he is Very Very Tired.
I think I put it in a box somewhere…
We survived the move and the drive with three cats harmonizing, but I am afraid I will be somewhat scarce until next tuesday, when the internet fairies come and turn on my internet. I am currently using my dad’s laptop via his cell phone as none of our new neighbors are considerate enough to have non-passworded wireless networks.
The cats and the boy seem to be adjusting just fine to the new house. I feel sort of shell shocked. Having spent four years getting used to the quirks (can’t use the toaster and the microwave simultaneously, no three-prong outlets anywhere, etc.) and joys (laundry chute! laundry chute! cabinet space!) of the old house, I find myself constantly bumping into walls. Today I walked into the walk-in closet (nice) in our bedroom and started pulling down my pants. Then I realized that although it’s in the same place as the bathroom was in our old bedroom, it’s a closet, not a bathroom.
Must go unpack a few more boxes in search of my thoughts… until tuesday.
And happy new year, to those for whom it’s a new year.
Thanks to my friend the engineer, who stopped by after work today, we now have cribbage in our living room.
It could use a fresh coat of paint, but I think it’s quite pretty.
Here are some pix of the bumper.
Now all I need is a baby to put in it… sigh.
My superstitious I-don’t-want-to-jinx-it nature is over-ruled only by the sheer joy I take in getting a really really good bargin. So when I saw a really pretty crib at the second-hand babystuff store near work – which came with a bumper with orange kitties on it – for $25 – I decided that g-d would not put such bargins in my path if s/he/it wanted to strike me down for my chutzpah. Or something like that.
Before you get all, um, art, used crib, um, safety on me, they only sell stuff that meets current safety standards. So there’s a crib in my living room. Unfortunately, I have no clue how to assemble it. And while it came with an adorable bumper – it did not come with instructions.
I got this far.
I know that the bottom part there is a foot bar that you use to raise and lower the movable side. I know that the brackets on the springy piece fit into the white brackets somehow and the crib mattress will go on top of the springs. I suspect that the little metal things that come out of the moveable side engage with the foot rail somehow. It came with a bunch of hardware, including 4 springs. I have no clue how it all fits together. Because it was on consignment, I have to return it by Thursday if I don’t want to keep it.
|Bracket on the bedspring|
|White bracket that I think bedspring backet goes into|
|Metal foot bar to raise and lower side|
|Movable side with metal thingies at bottom that I think engage somewhow with metal bar|
Both Pili and I somehow managed to avoid the lesbian DIY gene, although I can put together an ikea product with a minimum of cursing. If it weren’t for that, I think I’d be out of the lesbian-stereotype-club altogether, as my firm motto when it comes to sports involving flying objects coming at my head is stop, drop, and roll. On the other hand, we do drive a subaru.
If you think you can talk me through this, or you have instructions for a similar crib you could fax or scan for me (the brand is Nod-a-Way), please, please… let me know. There will be some sort of Guatemalan goodie in it for the helper… along with my undying gratitude.
In other news: I think we’ve found a house in MUCDTR. My desire not to spend every weekend shlepping back and forth is at war with my essential indecision factor. I don’t love this house the way I loved our house here and our condo in Flat City. But it’s down the street from the library, on a block with lots of kids and liberal looking families (although not so great as far as ethnic diversity), it has a huge back yard with a sandbox and a small guest house for our friends who are allergic to cats, and I think I could learn to love it. The owners are friends of a friend, and they are happy to split the difference not selling through a realtor with us. This is really happening. This is really happening. Holy Crap.
On the plus side – it’s finally, finally spring. And these are from my garden.
I got a letter in the mail today officially offering me the position in more-urban-city-down-the-road (MUCDTR) that has been in the works since november.
I am thrilled. I am panicking, big time.
Homes in MUCDTR are twice as expensive as our house here. There is actually more than one neighborhood where we’d consider living. We need to find a home. Very very soon. Mortgage. House selling. House buying. Movers. Aaaaaaaaaack. [sandbox, head, insert, deeply]
We will be moving. I will be starting a new job. And possibly hopefully bringing home our boy. All right around the same time, if g-d and pgn* cooperate. Aaaaaaaack. [deep breath of sand]
Pili will be commuting a loooong way to her job and staying over a few nights a week while school is in session. I will be single momming it a few nights a week while school is in session. [Daycare. Add to list of Things. To. Figure. Out. Very large breath of sand.]
House. Daycare. Car. Two-door tin-can. Want to replace with car that does not require advanced yoga skills in order to get car seat in/out before boy comes home. Buy house. Buy car. Sell house. Sell car? Finish Big Projects at Current Job. Start New Job. Bring home baby? Move. And Still Leave time for Pili to Write Book.
Plus: As much as I gripe about the city with only three thai restaurants, we’ve made some really wonderful friends here. We have a beautiful house here. Now that this possible job is becoming Real, I find myself clutching onto the familiar and wondering whether I could have overlooked some way – in all my trying – that I could have made this place work for me professionally.
I know this is the right move. I think I know this is the right move. I’m so so freakin’ scared.
*This is assuming we are actually in PGN. Because this is a HAPPY albeit panicky post, I am not going to get into my current irritation with GAL today.
… Or, why you don’t want to move to Upstate NY.
I kept holding out, hoping I’d be able to come up with some nice Spring photos. But Sunday found me outside, in my winter coat, vacuuming out the mouse droppings from the frame of our old garden lattice, which was peeling and disgusting. In the snow.
This seems to be a trend for me.
On the irony front: After I took all of your wise counsel and accepted that Pili ought to stay on with the Boy, she took a good hard look at her schedule… and decided that she ought to come back with me.
The weather around here of late has made me dream lots of warm dreams.
This is one of my favorite summer places – lying in the hammock on the deck off our bedroom, surrounded by trees, the sun on my face and a cat on my lap.
This is what said deck looks like right now.
Perhaps it’s a good thing that Guatebaby isn’t coming home anytime soon – can you imagine being four months old and coming from warm humid Guatemala to this? Never mind, I’d still rather have him home.
This is one of my favorite places during the winter. Our bed, flannel sheets, and all four cats.
Lazy? Me? Never…