Sturm Haus

So. We're getting more snow tomorrow! Wow! Such a thrill! At least it justifies the money I plonked down on new tires this week. Can't be sliding off the road now, can we?

Otto's feeling better. Now I'm the one with a scratchy throat and weak cough. Grr.

I hauled him to day care today despite the fact that he kicked and fought every second of our morning routine, crying piteously at opportune moments. We got there and he did the whole Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde routine. Otto unhappy? Unthinkable! Otto unpleasant? Never! He cheerfully tossed Puppy into his bag and bounced through the door to his classroom, all happy to see his teachers and show off his puzzle-fixing skills.

Some days he just kills me.

He slept late this morning. I checked on him when I first got up, closed his door again, and went on about my morning routine. When I looked in on him about 15 minutes later his door was wide open compliments of Jake, who has decided (evidently) that his day can't begin unless the boy is up. So he went in there to check on Otto himself. And, knowing Jake, he probably did a little collar-tag rattle to try and rouse him. I've never figured out how Jake can sometimes open closed doors. He's magic that way.

Despite the fact that it's a royal pain to live with a dog who completely sheds his undercoat every spring, I'm actually kind of glad to see him molting this year. It means that the snow really WILL melt and spring WILL come. Eventually. Just not tomorrow.

I feel like I should post something this week. But I have nothing great to say. Otto's been sick and crabby and generally challenging. Jon's not even done with his current round of travel, and today he sent me another list of new trip dates to look at. I have a weird work schedule this week. And on top of it all, it's been sunny lately and the sun is staying up until - gasp! - 6pm or later. Which means I can see how filthy my house is. In the depths of a Michigan winter you can't even see the dirt, let alone muster the energy to go after it. Today I got home and went after the stove, the mantle, and the television. Tomorrow it's the guest bath and general vacuuming.

Speaking of which... Jake is looking like he's ready to shed his winter coat. I'm more than ready for a new vacuum to help with that this year, since our old Hoover is showing its age. According to Consumer Reports, these are the top three pet-fur conquering models:

Kenmore Progressive

Hoover Windtunnel 2

Eureka Boss Smart Vac Ultra

Call me old-fashioned, but I just don't like the new bagless vacuums (the three above all have bags). I like having all Jake's fur going into a bag along with the dust and other junk. I like HEPA bags, where the bag is the filter and you don't have to hand-wash anything to keep it running. I like not having to see all the gunk I've pulled off the floor when I dump it in the trash. There's no way we're spending $300 on a new vacuum, though, so the Kenmore is out. Ditto for the Hoover (plus, no one at Target liked it). Looks like the Eureka might be our winner -- and hey, I can get a deal on it at Costco, bonus.

Wow. How did I ever do this before the Internet?

Alrighty then - time to go down and watch a little Runway. I guess tonight is the walk-off between Chris and Rami. I haven't been as enthused about this season as in the past. I was sorry to see my personal favorite, Sweet Pea, knocked out of the running the last week. I enjoyed her, tattoos and all. I hope Chris wins tonight just so we have something different to look at next week. Otherwise it'll be Rami and his interpretations of Christo & Jean-Claude for people. Yawn.

letter of the week

The letter of the week this week is T:

Tired: I've been wide awake at 6am every day this week, too early for this night owl. I blame the baby, who seems to think it's a good time to practice his/her goal kicks or play DDR or whatever.
Trains: Otto and I had a mom/son date tonight and indulged in a new train at B&N. He chose Whiff, an engine I've never heard of before, and Hector the coal car. He knows all about them, of course. Where was I when that happened?
Tuneup and tires: I'm finally getting both and they're past due. This whole car-in-the-shop thing is really inconvenient, you know?
Timing: I just found out there's a job posted in Wisconsin that I always said I'd apply for when it came open, only the start date is a week before my due date. In many respects it's my dream job (or one of them, anyway). Is this bad karma? Fate? A sign from God? Perhaps I'm just not worthy yet, I don't know.

Time to turn in. Have to kick my dog off so I have somewhere to put my feet...

wednesday

• he and Dad need to go get haircuts Saturday
• that sweatshirt (a gift from Grandpa Steve) is just about the cutest thing ever
• I got a backhanded "bye" when he headed into his classroom (the doors behind him)

serendipity

On my Twitter list today, the following two posts showed up one after the other:

strongwall: "I dream of a job where students in the library don't entertain themselves with flatulence"
woodge: "don't sit next to me, I'm a little gassy today"

another serendipitous find: our YS Librarian found the following while researching craft books - hambone and porky chop plush toys - perfect for our nursery, yes?

My guys are at the grocery store this afternoon. Otto insisted on going with his Dad and asked to take along his "monies" at the last minute. I did indeed order the little pizza money pouch for him last week, and he's taken quite a shine to it. His grandma sent him a few dollars to put in it, and he's loving the idea that he can go places and buy things with his own cash. Last night after dinner he insisted I sit next to him on the bench at the table with my arm around him so we could peruse his Thomas catalog. After we reviewed each item he told me we needed to go to the store, take the elevator, and buy more engines. I'm pretty sure he means the local Barnes & Noble with its train table and wall full of Thomas products in the kids' area. It's a little scary sometimes how quick he is, how much he remembers. We go to B&N maybe once every 2 or 3 months, and the only engine we ever picked up there was Henry.

Now that he has his own monies, though, all things are possible. He just needs a chauffeur.

I didn't sleep well last night, kept waking up from nightmares and odd dreams related to Otto and the new baby. In keeping with my general crunchy-granola approach to pregnancy I'm planning to attempt a vbac this time. With my first delivery I didn't know what to expect or how I'd do. This one, I'm not afraid of the labor process itself, more of the outcome. I don't want to be in the hospital for 4 or 5 days recovering from major abdominal surgery, don't want the restrictions or prescription pain meds. I don't feel the need to prove I can have a baby the old-fashioned way -- I just don't like the idea of being in the operating room again. In my dream I woke from a week-long coma-like sleep to find the baby had been born and named without me. I'd had another c-section and was fine, the baby was fine, but I wasn't there in any meaningful sense of the word. It also made total dream-sense that because Jon was in charge while I was out cold, the baby was a boy. My subconscious is not particularly subtle.

All of this is boiling up because we're half-way there. Less than 5 months to go! I'd better get moving on those plans to re-do closets and paint bedrooms and thoroughly clean the house. Yep. Better leap on that.

Oh! Otto's back! Can't wait to see what he got at Kroger with his monies.

Wednesday morning I hied myself along to the drs office for the usual mid-pregnancy ultrasound. A visit with my midwife was to follow, and Jon was planning to meet me there to see the baby on screen.

After a quick pit stop to refill my wiper fluid (really, it was an emergency, I couldn't SEE through the thrown-up slush and salty road spray streaking my windscreen), I arrived at the office and checked in. I was right on time for the ultrasound. Jon wasn't there yet so I called him.

him: "I'm stuck in traffic, there was an accident."

me: "but where are you?"

him: "uh... when are they going to call you back?"

me: "any minute now," looking nervously toward the window where I can see heads bent together over my order sheet

him: "I'll be there as soon as I can."

A few minutes later I get called to the window, then get buzzed through to the hall that leads to exam rooms and the ultrasound room. I warn them that Jon's on his way, and they promise to send him back.

The ultrasound room is warm and dark, most of the light coming from the green-white glow of the ultrasound monitor. I greet the tech and put my things down, then climb onto the table. "OK, go ahead and lie back there and push your pants down" she says, efficiently getting me situated and smearing warm goo on my stomach.

I explain Jon's stuck in traffic, and she shakes her head in sympathy. "My schedule is so tight today," she says apologetically, and I nod in understanding. Then we start the ultrasound. The tech is friendly as she explains what we're looking at, starting with a quick view of my innards to make sure things are ok, then moving on to the main attraction.

The baby is calm, floating peacefully with one hand up by his/her face, seemingly undisturbed by the pressure of the ultrasound wand as we look. Feet, perfect tiny toes. Legs. Arms. Curve of the spine. Shape of the skull, and the ghostly little alien face with its huge dark eyes. Round tummy. As we get towards the end, I say "if we can find out if it's a boy or a girl, I'd like to know."

We jiggle the baby around a bit, try looking from different angles, but baby is not only sound asleep, he/she is sleeping in a sort of lotus fetal position -- knees tucked up, ankles crossed. He/she barely moves and certainly doesn't kick. We can't glimpse anything to give us a hint, and can't wake the baby enough to get him/her to move.

And then we're done. I wipe off the goo and head to the bathroom for the obligatory sample, where I take a minute to call Jon. "I'm done," I say, "you can go back to work." He sounds more annoyed than anything to hear this, having just pulled into the parking lot. "I'll come up and say hi," he says.

By the time we meet up in the waiting room (which is wall-to-wall people), I'm near tears. We've seen everything we need to know the baby's healthy and developing well. There's no good reason to take another look, and I have my few blurry photos on plastic paper. It'll be another 20 weeks before either of us sees the baby again.

I'm unreasonably hormonal about Jon being late, but despite being fed up with me he offers to stay and see the midwife. We head back to the exam room together, and when she comes in and asks how the ultrasound went, I say "well, Jon got stuck in traffic and missed it, and we couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. So two strikes." (I am an enormously optimistic and cheerful person, can't you tell?) Trish says airily "Oh, we'll take another look later."

This hadn't even occurred to me. I know ultrasounds aren't anything special anymore, but in the grand scheme of things, knowing whether we're having a boy or a girl seems petty and unworthy of taking up more professional time. But when we finish with the measuring and the listening, and go over diet and nutrition and pregnancy tea, she checks to see if the tech is busy, then comes back into the room hauling a bedside ultrasound. We spend the next 10 minutes or so taking another peek, laughing at how the baby has his/her legs folded up so tightly while still bouncing around. "That's one active baby!" Trish says as we watch him/her wiggle around. Not one kick, though. Pork Chop is determinedly modest. Jon gets a good look at her (or him, as he insists on believing), and by the time we leave we're both feeling much better. Disaster averted by a kind midwife.

As we head off to have lunch I say, "well, I was going to paint the baby's room yellow anyway."

budding photographer

Otto took this great picture of his Uncle Jamie during the holidays.

(Yes, I realize it's Valentine's Day and I'm just getting the Christmas photos uploaded.)

Coming soon! A story about a husband, a baby, and an ultrasound!

oops

Otto rocks!,
originally uploaded by sturm95.

have decided I need this rocker

cannot find artist info (photo is from 2006 ann arbor art fair)

not even sure what to call it (handmade rocker? hickory bentwood rocker? bentwood rocking chair?)

now what do I do???

sigh

his first photo essay

www.flickr.com sturm95's otto's view of the world photoset

Yesterday Otto and I went to see a very nice surgeon about this little problem he has. Seems it can show up about any time -- Otto's favorite Doctor just happened to pick up on it at his last exam.

Jon's been pretty concerned (he had the same kind of thing when he was a baby), and he's done more research on it than I have, which is saying something. I'm the queen of panic research. For most medical info I can find 10 peer-reviewed journal articles, at least one white paper, and 3 reputable web sources in 15 minutes. This time around I'm listening more to the docs and reading less. Does this mean I've learned something about life, or that I'm avoiding things? The surgeon told me to assure Jon that it's not hereditary - there's no gene that they've found for it - but it's not unusual to have it run in families. It's the most common surgery they do on little people, and very routine.

I asked yesterday about anesthesia, and the doc said he knew basic info but would refer me to them with specific questions. O will need more anesthesia than he did for his ear tubes, and the operation will take longer (30-45 min.). These are the things I don't like. The nurse/PA assured me that, having been through it before with no problems, O is an excellent candidate to come through again with flying colors.

One thing I do know is this: when Jon was a baby and had complications related to his hernia, it was scary. Fixing Otto's under more controlled conditions, not an emergency situation, is the right thing to do.

(sticks fingers in ears and sings "lalalalalalala!")

After our appointment yesterday we stopped at the hospital's cafe for a little snack. Otto got to pick out a cookie for us to share, and, like his father, was only interested in one kind.

"Do you want peanut butter or chocolate chip?"

"I wannna choclit chip cookie!"

(15 minutes later, after eating his half of the huge cookie and drinking his milk)

"I need more monies, need more choclit chip cookie!"

"Maybe later, you've had enough for this afternoon. We need to go to the grocery store now."

"Get more choclit chip cookie?"

"We'll see."

Thankfully, he forgot all about the cookies on our drive to Kroger.

But seriously, Jon -- I don't know why you're worried about his having a hernia when you've quite obviously stamped him with a more significant lifelong affliction. This addiction to chocolate chip cookies? I have no doubt it's genetic, inherited, and quite quite serious.

my valentines

things I might buy for my guys for V-day include...

this adorable little pizza pouch from fredflare.com (perfect for holding Otto's pizza money on Fridays)

this key chain sold at delight.com - Jon needs a new one, and I think he'd like it

a Sigg bottle for Otto's lunchbox - the astronaut one has a glow-in-the-dark cap

to help him survive the off-season, Jon could dress up his iPod (not that he would)

This weekend Otto and I need to make a few Valentines for his class. I'm thinking of doing this for his teachers:

Valentines Tea Bags

We've had such wretched weather lately that I'm making more of a deal out of Valentine's Day than usual, since it gives us something to look forward to. I'm considering making these cupcakes for dessert that night. Mmmm... cupcakes.

My endocrinologist is happy with me (I saw him this morning), so that's all good. He also thinks this baby should be born on his wedding anniversary (the 8th). Hah! We'll see about that.

It's official, I'm too big for my biggest pair of jeans.

I wore them over the weekend anyway, with an elastic hair band doubled-up to expand the reach from button to buttonhole on the waist. I haven't been to the basement yet for the box of maternity clothes -- I don't want to. I don't remember dreading this with my first pregnancy... but maybe that's because I really didn't show, at all, until after we had our ultrasound at 19 weeks. I'm only a couple of weeks ahead of that this time, but I now know the horror that is maternity clothes shopping, so the dread grows.

Don't tell me about JCPenney, their stores only carry clothes for people 5'7" and shorter (no offense but I LIKE sleeves that cover my wrists). Old Navy, old gravy - they're fine, but I have to order it all on-line and hope it fits. Ditto Gap, which is also a bit too nice for my daily life. Target saved me last time, but I tried on a few things the other week and nothing fit. So far I have a $7 dress I bought on clearance there, I like it but it's a wee bit chilly to be wearing cute wrap dresses made of thin knits. And I'm sorry, folks, but in general, there is no way that a 3" wide strip of stretchy knit wrapped around the bottom of an egg-shaped torso is going to hold your pants up all day. I want me some high-riding old-lady-style maternity pants that won't slide down when I sit in a chair for a meeting, requiring me to try to subtly hitch them up as I rise to exit the room for yet another bathroom break.

Pork Chop has settled down the past couple of weeks. I'm no longer getting flurries of kicks, just the occasional "whack!" or flutter. I have no doubt this is related to my jeans situation -- in order to have room to dance, the house needs an addition, so to speak. Sleeping is already uncomfortable. I'm a stomach-sleeper from way back, and this whole left-side or right-side routine gets annoying fast. The only good thing so far about Jon's frequent trips is that I can steal his pillows and create a little fortress to lean into when he's gone. When he's home I lean into him, which works OK unless he's snoring (hint hint).

In general I can't wait for next Wednesday. I'm ready for another peek at the cosmonaut down there, the one causing all this anxiety and anticipation. Hopefully we'll get an indication of gender so I can go full-steam ahead on the room arrangements and clothing situation. Oh, and names. The child will need a name other than Pork Chop, I suppose (don't forget, Otto was Hambone until birth, that's just the way we do things).

We had a really fun weekend hanging out. Amanda and I have 3 little people between us, 3.75 yrs old, 3 yrs old, and 2.25 yrs old. They were kind of a riot to watch as they explored the hotel together, spelunking hallways and taking over the elevator, invading each others' rooms to check out toys. We swam, went to Chuck E Cheese, etc. Otto helped me pack his Thomas the Tank Engine suitcase (toys went in first), then pulled it in and out of the hotel himself as a big boy should. He had a great time, especially the swimming. We need to go swim more, for sure. I've never seen him strip so fast as he did when I said "time to put on your swim trunks!"

So, I haven't harped at all on the fact that Jon's traveling a lot for work lately, have I? In case you've forgotten, my husband/significant other/parenting partner has been flitting in and out of the house, running off to sunny Indiana to work on a special project, leaving me home to be both the drop-off and pick-up parent. Oh, and the supper-maker -- I find I lack the skill to plan and execute evening meals anymore, he does such a good job at it that I don't need to.

Last night Otto got sick. Some stomach bug or 'nother, picked up at school, had him puking in the middle of the night. By morning we'd gone through 2 sets of pillows/linens/blankets and I'd given up on putting PJs on the poor kid. I was throwing laundry in the wash at 1am so I could get one of the Puppies clean and dry by morning. There's nothing more tragic than a sick 3-yr old wailing that his beloved Puppy is "wet." He was sick just a few times, and by the time we woke up for the day seemed to be feeling better.

We got through our morning visits to two different specialists. By 12:30 we were home, and I got him to eat a waffle for lunch, then go down for a nap. I collapsed back into bed myself and we crashed for... hours. We ate another bland and starchy dinner, watched a little Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and came back upstairs to fold laundry and get ready for bed. Nothing too taxing or exciting. I haven't even attempted clearing our driveway -- we had about 4 inches of snow this morning -- and Jake is mightily bored.

These are the things husbands are handy for, you know. Helping with a sick kid (especially when you think you're going to be sick, too), shoveling snow, carrying heavy laundry baskets up and down the stairs. I miss mine, and admit feeling a lot discouraged by the fact that he doesn't know when it will end. It'll be a few more weeks at least, and I'm not feeling challenged by any of this in a good way, just drained.

Hopefully this weekend will help perk me up. We're running away to Ft. Wayne to meet up with friends so our kids can run wild together at Chuck E Cheese and spend quality time together in the hotel pool. Jon's meeting me there, which is the thing keeping me going right now. At 2pm tomorrow, it's hand-off time!