Looking for Doctor Right

Last Thursday I had an appointment for my annual physical. I had scheduled all of my various yearly check-ups to be done before I went on vacation and this was the last of them. Plus, I needed to get my prescription renewed since I'm on the final pill pack. Doc used to be at the clinic within walking distance of my house but she switched to the new one that's way up in the northern suburbs when that opened up. But I've been going up there and taking Kirk up there out of loyalty to her and because I honestly like her so much. So when I finally got up there Thursday afternoon? I was beyond dismayed to discover that she wasn't there; she was out delivering a baby.

When we took Kirk for his 2 year well child check-up Doc told us that she's going to stop delivering babies at the end of the year. She's 50 now and it takes too long for her to recover from the middle of the night calls and she just decided that she's done. To be honest, I felt betrayed. Sure, I haven't exactly jumped on the let's-make-a-sibling bandwagon but I do intend to get knocked up again. And now I won't have Doc as my Ob. I don't know that I've felt this attached to a particular physician before. Is it just because she's cool? Or because I saw her so often during my pregnancy and then for all of Kirk's well baby visits afterwards? I feel like I really know her and I don't want to find another doctor. I've seen quite a few random doctors at the nearby clinic for just miscellaneous visits and none of them have seemed like the right fit. But I guess I need to start trying to find one. I still like the idea of seeing a GP so that both Kirk and I can go to the same person. And I don't really have a hang-up about only seeing female doctors. My last physician was a man and I quite liked him but his clinic moved and then we moved and it just didn't seem worth going back to him.

In the midst of this debacle I had to really examine my intentions about getting pregnant again. Since I'm not going off the pill for France I've been wavering on how long I want to wait before trying again. And a lot of it has to do with my vacation plans for next summer. It's a family reunion year and we're going to be at a beach house on the North Carolina coast and I would really like to look halfway decent. But that's just my own personal vanity getting in the way. Do my cousins honestly give a damn? I doubt it. I don't know that I'd want to be hugely, third trimester preggers though. That's just not particularly comfortable. Especially since we plan to drive. So I realized that maybe first or second trimester would be OK. It's not like lis and I are going to be partying it up in DC during The Summit; she'll have a 4 month old after all. So my new thought is New Years. We'll see if I have a new excuse for putting it off when that rolls around.

Walkin' Tall

I think we're weaning ourselves off of stroller dependence. It was not intentional at all. When we went to the zoo Labor Day weekend we just completely forgot to bring it. And it was fine. Kirk was perfectly happy to walk on his own and responded pretty well to me telling him to "pick up the pace" when he started slowing down or wandering off course. If he had been in the stroller he would have demanded to get out all the time and be held up to see the animals. And then he would have wanted to push the stroller himself. That's what happened when I picked him up from daycare via the bus and we took the bus home. The final walk was excruciatingly slow because "Kirkie do it." But then Kirkie started gazing up at the clouds instead of watching where he was slowly pushing the stroller, decreasing his speed even more. So when we recently took a walk up to the city offices to drop off the water/garbage bill we decided not to bother even trying to strap him into the stroller. It was a lovely promenade and he stuck with us well and didn't get too tired out by the end. Oh, I'm not going to get rid of it any time soon. But I'm also not going to be as desperate to make sure it's in the car whenever we go to the mall anymore.

Fruits 'n' Veggies

Kirk eats apple slices the same way he eats melon wedges. And then we’re left with a field of spent apples. I don’t really want to be the kind of mom that always peels the apples but he just eats around them. Even if I cut each apple slice down to bite size pieces he leaves the peel.

Thankfully he eats the crust on his bread. He seems to have switched off macaroni & cheese as his failsafe, always-ready-to-eat-it food and is now on peanut butter (with or without "purple jelly") sandwiches. And those he eats strangely, too; he pries the bread slices apart and eats each side as its own open-face sandwich. Very messy. But "dood".

The only other failsafe food at the moment is "O-bars". He’ll eat a granola bar no matter what. We refuse to make him a whole separate meal of his own if he has decided that he doesn’t want to eat what we’re having for dinner so he has had quite a few O-bars in the past couple of weeks.

He’s a bit of a menace in my garden, too. I don’t have much growing in the way of vegetables but he took his soft Twins baseball bat to my yellow pepper plant and managed to knock off the only branch that was producing fruit. So, no peppers for me. He’ll pick tomatoes, either the Cherries or the Romas, and take one bite before spitting it out as "icky". For some reason the no pick rules I’ve hammered home regarding my flowers just haven’t stuck on the tomato front. "Mama’s pretty flowers. Kirkie no pick. Nose. *snorting exhalation as he attempts sniffing*" Maybe because I pick them but leave the flowers? Oddly he leaves the zucchini alone.



Except when it’s sitting on the counter of course. Then it’s a hilariously awesome thing to carry around. I have no idea why my zucchini plant produced such a monster. It really hasn’t put out that much fruit at all but two of them have been those ridiculously State Fair sized behemoths.

Finish Line

Today is my sister's birthday. She's 29 now and is about to have her third child. Third. Before 30. The thing that really struck me is how hugely pregnant she is. Her official due date is one week from now but her doctor thinks she'll deliver this weekend. And I don't know what that level of pregnancy is like. I never experienced the massive frustration, waiting for the end to come. I never got a chance to be desperate to get the baby outta me. It's sort of fascinating to look at it objectively like that and I realized it's a whole aspect of female reproduction that I just didn't participate in. I have secretly wondered in the past if women that have had C-sections really can understand what giving birth, actual delivery, is truly like. But in most instances, there was a serious medical reason that they had to operate. They did go through labor, at least somewhat, and that wasn't good enough. So I feel bad that I held that slight prejudice. I think realizing that I missed out on an integral part of pregnancy by having Kirk nearly a month early has helped me to change that opinion.

But seeing my sister tonight at her birthday dinner made me realize just what she has in store for her. And that I really am not ready to do it again. Not yet.

Remembry

Kirk's memory is kind of astonishing. He will bring up events, a bug biting him for example, that happened months ago and out of nothing he'll just start talking about them. I've certainly prompted him about stuff when we just get done, like on the drive home from the zoo yesterday I sort of drilled him on all the things we did (dolphins, train, monkeys, sharks, butterflies, etc.) but that's just making conversation. He does better on the phone with Nana and Papa or Auntie and A1 and A2 if he's got stories to tell. I don't think he's really got much of a sense of time yet though. I never know quite how much advance warning I need to give him before babysitters or big events or anything. Sometimes I'll tell him about something a few days earlier and sometimes, quite frankly, I forget to tell him at all until it's happening. So far he's fine with just rolling with it. But I figure that the France trip is huge enough that he's going to need to have it in the back of his little head. I've been mentioning it whenever vacation comes up or whenever Nana and Papa come up. I don't think he has any clue what's really going to happen but I'm hoping that it'll be in there enough so that he doesn't freak out entirely. I have no idea what to expect actually. Now that it's so close I'm starting to realize the enormity of leaving the continent without my son.

The Wedding March

Last weekend Kirk and I drove out to Wisconsin with my parents to attend a wedding. Kirk had a blast. My sister and brother both came out so he got to spend some time in the hotel with my nephew and then dance at the reception with A1. I knew that he would have fun, but that's not the reason we went. I felt compelled to go. The groom was my brother's best friend growing up. It's the only wedding I've been to for anyone from the old neighborhood. And it's the first wedding I've been to of someone that I used to babysit. All his brothers were his attendants; I probably haven't seen a single one of them since I babysat them. Oddly, that didn't bother me or freak me out in any way. It was neat seeing the boys all grown up. What I did notice, however, was a strong feeling of future-self when I saw their mother. The Mother of the Groom. I really identified with her. It's not like we were ever particularly close, I was just the girl across the street. But this time, I could really see an eventuality for me. It was fascinating. I recently read a lovely line in something about how a son's mother gave him the best gift in loving his wife. Even thinking of it now brings tears to my eyes. I often wonder if I need to have a daughter to carry on the bond with her that I have with my own mother. And it's always been strong but it's most definitely mutated and grown and evolved since I've become a mother as well. And yet I find myself now looking to my mother-in-law. Who thanks me each and every time I see her for loving her son. I can only hope that I'm as gracious when Kirk someday brings home his mate.

Love is a Battlefield

Mr. b and I continue to pick our battles. My sister sometimes claims that we're spoiling Kirk but I just don't see it. Why should I care if the boy wants to wear his jammie shirt as his shirt for the day? It's not like it's particularly obvious that it's pajamas. Why should I care if he wants to walk to the car barefoot? It's not cold out. Sometimes it's just easier to buy him the one dollar Spiderman ball rather than fight with him in the store. I'm not getting him a pony or anything! And we do have rules for him; I could never abide having a no-really-I'm-my kid's-best-friend parenting style. I'm sure things'll change as he gets older. For now? I'm sticking with the lazier method.

Random bits: today Kirk asked for milk on his cereal. That was new. He actually ate about two-thirds of the bowl, too!

He counts thusly: 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 12. Every. Single. Time.

Play-Doh is endlessly entertaining. Meaning Kirk demands that we use certain colors in certain molds and then changes his mind in the middle.

Help! is now as popular as Yellow Submarine. "Darth Vader Movie" requests are bumping up in frequency as well.

Actual quote: "No, Dada. Don't ever touch Kirkie's green candy." Swearing can't be far off. Heh.

Gettin' the lead out

Well, it looks like we just made it through our very first toy recall. K had gotten the Sesame Street Tub Pots & Pans for Kirk for his birthday. I followed the instructions they sent me and it would seem that we’re in the clear! I had to look for a date code between 1097LF and 1877LF. Kirk’s was 100. Yay! Thankfully he didn’t notice that I had removed it from the shower wall. I’m sure he’ll be excited to have it again though.

Sibling Shuffle

Kirk spent the day with his cousins today since K was closed. My sister is hugely (like 36 weeks) pregnant right now and we've been explaining to Kirk that Auntie's got a baby in her tummy. It was just starting to sink in last week when we saw her but apparently he got to see A3 kick and now he really believes it. He kept saying, "Baby comin'."

He's not particularly curious about where babies come from, which I suppose isn't that suprising considering he's still so little, but he was talking about having a baby in his own tummy. I just explained that boys don't get to have babies, only girls. Mr. b added that only grown up girls that are Mommies have babies. Kirk took that in stride except for one thing, I'm apparently not a girl. "Kirkie, boy. Dada, boy. Mama, boy." He refused to believe me when I corrected him on that last part.

I'm not sure if that means he knows, or at least suspects deep down, that there's a real good chance that he won't be an only child. Maybe I'm just reading too much into that. I do know that I have a short reprieve from my planned Pill deadline. I did the menstrual math for our upcoming France trip and if I went off then I'd get my period halfway through our vacation. Nuh-uh. Me no likey. So I'll just do the suppression trick. Of course my sister did not like it when I told her that. She wanted me to suppress this month so my cycle would be a week earlier. But the last time I did that (a friend's wedding in Jamaica) I ended up spotty for the next two months so that would totally defeat the purpose of being rag-free on vacay!

I'm slightly relieved that I can put the decision off for another month. (Or more?) I know that Mr. b was also showing signs of hesitation. My SIL is newly pregnant with their second and their son is younger than Kirk! They apparently started trying when he was barely over a year! I know that two years is an extremely common age gap but it just seems like too soon for me. My sister and I are nearly 3 and a half years apart and we recently discussed how much we liked that. Because of her birthday being after Labor day, it also meant that we were 4 grades apart. So once I left elementary school, we never had to be in the same school at the same time. That was really nice for both of us. Our brother is nearly 2 years younger than she is but again, due to birthday placement, they were only 1 year apart in school. And it was hell on both of them. Her girls are 8 and 5 and so they'll have that nice gap, too. I know that it's human nature to think that whatever difference you have is the perfect amount but I've really been analyzing this a lot. Obviously.

Mostly I'm just not convinced that I'm ready to be pregnant again. But I suppose I need to get it out of the way because I've definitely come around to agree that Kirk needs a sibling.

Two Transitions

We took Kirk to see The Simpsons Movie on Sunday. It's the first time he'd been to a movie theater since he was a carseat baby. He really did pretty well but I ended up spending the final 15 or 20 minutes watching from the entrace hall while holding him. If we had come a bit later and avoided the millions of previews and other bullshit at the beginning, maybe it would have timed out better. We did go to a 10:45am showing but that meant it was pretty much naptime when the movie ended. Nevertheless, it was a great experiment. Kirk had fun and now we know that it's possible to see movies as a family, as long as we schedule it right. I think typically people don't take kids to movies until they're a bit older but he knows about the Simpsons and likes them so we figured it would work out.

We seem to be behind the curve on Kirk's sleeping arrangements however. He's still in his crib and we're not making any move to switch him into a toddler bed any time soon. I think all of the other two-year-olds we know have been transitioned already. But Kirk still hasn't ever climbed out! And so many parents have warned us that we need to treasure the crib time while it lasts because after that the random mid-night appearances begin. Though I think that Kirk needs new bed clothes. When I get him up in the morning he has often covered himself with one or more of the random baby blankets that are piled in and amongst the stuffed animals. Does he need proper blankets? He also doesn't have a real pillow; he's been using my old Boppy for probably a year now. I intended to at least get him a normal pillow for his birthday but that got away from me unfulfilled.

The switch to 2% milk Mr. b was on top of right away though. He took Kirk off whole milk several weeks before his birthday. Apparently the kids at daycare make a note of who drinks red milk (whole) and who drinks blue milk (2%)!

Tragedy

How do you explain something like an historical tragedy to a two-year-old? Of course the TV was on news coverage of the bridge collapse from 20 minutes after it happened onward. Mr. b had to leave so it was just me and the boy. And I was too busy being stunned and answering phone calls whenever someone was able to get through and sending out emails letting people know we were all OK to pay much attention to him. I tried to take time out. We sat on the front steps and watched the rain come in. Kirk claimed he was scared of the "bunder" but I don't buy it. We sat in his bedroom and had a tickle war. But mostly, my mind was elsewhere, trying to process what had just happened. My only attempt to explain it was to tell Kirk that the bridge broke and now there was a big mess. I wonder how much of this he'll retain in memory as he gets older?

I worked from home yesterday and went over to Dinkytown to meet Mr. b for lunch. As I drove by, and saw the destruction with my own eyes for the first time, I gasped, clutched my chest, and fought back tears. It's real. We walked over before eating to look again and take a couple of pictures and just reminisce about all the times we spent in the area, in the neighborhood, under the bridges, along the riverbank.

Mr. b got interviewed by a Sioux Falls news station later that day. A print version is online, with a link to the video.

Painful Phasing

I'm having a real hard time with Kirk's preferential treatment of his father. It would be one thing if he just ignored me. But it's more than that. He refuses to sit in my lap even when Mr. b's not home. He wails when his Dada leaves for band practie or recording or a gig. "Mama no!" "No kisses!" "Mama leave!" "Mama go!" This weekend he actually tried to push me out of bed when we brought him in to sleep in with us. I left and went and bawled in the kitchen. It's hitting me way harder than the last time he was being mean.

I know it's just a phase. I know I should enjoy having the pressure lessened while he hangs on his dad. Mr. b makes a good point that I'll always be Mama, the comforter and care-giver, even when he's long grown past kisses on his owies. But I don't care. It hurts so much.

I Get So Emotional, Baby

I stayed home with Kirk on Wednesday. He just had a cold but I think he gets better quicker if he stays home and has a quiet day instead of being crazy at daycare. Plus it was nice to have an explanation for his extreme whininess of the previous couple of days. Dinner on Tuesday night he was so whiny we started making fun of him. We honestly thought his voice was going hoarse because of the constant whining! But when he went back to daycare on Thursday? Mr. b says that he freaked out and started crying, "Kirkie home!"

That sadness is a new thing. He's starting to feel more than just the base emotions like happy and mad or the physiological ones like hungry or tired. And it's just heartbreaking to see him genuinely broken up by things not going his way. But it's not like he can win every battle. Now's the time when kids are able to be spoiled. I don't think you can spoil them earlier because it's just basic needs. But if you give in just because he's got a sad face? Or because he's throwing a temper tantrum? Then he learns how get whatever he wants by being a total pain in the ass. And I refuse to fall into that trap because I hate getting ripped off. And that kind of manipulation definitely qualifies.

It still doesn't do anything to assuage my worry about what the future holds. If Kirk experiences that level of sadness now, when he's two, what's he going to be like when he's fifteen and every day is the end of the world? Teenage years are hard on anyone but boys are more likely to act on it. And lord knows his father was hugely depressed even into his twenties. I don't exaggerate when I say that there were countless times when I was afraid to come home from class or my student job because I honestly didn't know what I would find when I came in the door. I'm so thankful that Mr. b came out of that darkness and I just can't bear the thought of Kirk going through it, too.

For now, though, the worst that happens typically involves poop. While at home with him on Wednesday, Kirk had his hand down his pants, as usual.
Mama: What you diggin' for down there?
Kirk: (continues his excavation)
Mama: What are you playing with?
Kirk: Fingers.
Mama: What are your fingers playing with:
Kirk: Poop.
And then he pulled out a turd nugget and dropped it on the floor.

Boobies

"Mama bra."

"One, two boobs."

Kirk can count to two. And he’s obsessed with my boobs. He grabs hold and gives me a titty twister when I hold him. For a short time he tried biting but thankfully that never caught on. He thinks he’s being hilarious though. I try to divert him from actually grabbing on and then he’ll lift up my shirt and try to tickle my belly to distract me. Cheeky monkey.

Sing, Sing a Song

Kirk has always been a very aural baby, really into music and sounds. Lately he's begun singing actual lyrics to the songs he knows. But he doesn't get in all the words, he'll only hit the high points. The cute thing about that is that he pauses, exactly long enough for the missing words to be sung, before he moves on to the next one.

T'inkle ... ... star
... wonder ... are
Up a' ... ...high
... di'mon' ... sky

It's frickin' adorable. His other favorite songs are Sing, Baa Baa Black Sheep, On Top of Spaghetti, and the Alphabet song.

And Yellow Submarine. He's obsessed with Yellow Submarine. He got a Beatles t-shirt from Angelmamma & Fam for his birthday so, since I was home with him the rest of the week, I decided to show him the movie Yellow Submarine. I hadn't actually watched it in years. Wow. Crazy madness. Such a drug trip. Which was the point, of course, but holy cow. I didn't think he'd really pay that much attention since it's so bloody long with lots of bizarre filler between actual plot elements and songs. But he loved it. Loved. He asks to watch it all the time. He knows the names of all the Beatles now (Ringo is his favorite) and has noticed the Beatles poster we have hanging in the garage porch and the "Hard Day's Night" record cover jigsaw puzzle we have framed and hanging in the stairway. It's awesome. We're both so proud.

Of course once his Papa finds out, he'll have to start brainwashing him over to the Rolling Stones. Heh. My dad's always been a Stones guy over the Fab Four. I suppose we can always show Kirk The Rock and Roll Circus DVD we gave him next time we're up at Nana & Papa's house. Lord knows that's plenty psychadelic, too.

Poor Kitty

Sally’s not getting better. It’s been over a year since we got Chloe and she’s still completely bonkers and hiding and not using the box and barely eating. She was semi-fine in the basement living room if we kept the door latched. Yet even then she rarely came out from under the bed. And the door didn’t stay closed all the time because it’s not her room, it’s our room dammit! We’ve evicted her a few times over the past year but she always seems to end up back in there. I feel sorry for her crazy ass and let her go back in. But it was starting to reek of catshit from her crapping under the bed whenever she was too chicken to go the three feet to her catbox. So we evicted her when we were staying down there while my in-laws were visiting. It seemed like she was better for a little while. She even came part of the way up the stairs! And then she started hiding. I would find her behind a box or under a desk or on top of my sewing basket or under a table and sure enough, there would be a pile of turds right next to her. She even pissed all over the old iMac! I’d clean it all up, put her back into her box in the laundry room, stop up the access to the space, rinse and repeat. Right now she’s been sitting in the laundry room sink. I don’t know if she’s moved out of there for a couple of days. She’s not the kitty that I used to know and love. She’s an empty shell.

I can’t blame Chloe though. It’s not her fault. Sally was like this before but hid it better. When you live in a one bedroom apartment it’s easier to overlook the fact that she’s never in the same room as Smoe; she’s just sleeping in the bedroom! But the truth is, she can’t live with other cats. And we would’ve gotten another cat eventually. I’m sure the only reason she was fine with Tron is that she could sense he was dying.

Sally has really brought this upon herself. We did everything right to introduce those two cats to each other. But she chose to let her hate consume her. I don’t know why I should’ve expected any other fate for a Sith lord. So now I have to call a vet and find out if they think she can be rehabilitated. I have to keep hope that she’ll be fine in a house without any other cats. With a patient human that will care for her and not have the distractions of a two year old son. She’s only ten; she’s got a lot of years ahead of her. But I’m terrified that the answer will be that Xenoba cannot be turned from the dark side. I’ve never had to bring a pet in for *that* reason before.

Video Rage

Mercurial Rage has a video for one of the songs off their new CD, The Funeral Sessions! Check out Mr. b's mutton chops.



I'm wearing a fur coat.

TWO!

Kirk's golden birthday was today and we had his party yesterday.


Mmmm, frosting.


Yay frosting!


Ooh hey, more cake!


Cousins are fun.


Kirk had both sets of grandparents at his birthday party.


Aunties are good for winding down after a full day of craziness. I'm pretty sure he had a massive sugar hangover today.

Fact and Habits

Tagged by lis

The rules: Each player lists 8 facts or habits about themselves; the rules of the game are to be posted first; at the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people.

1) I like making overly elaborate costumes of characters from shows and movies and video games – but I think that Cosplay is kinda weird.

2) I have used the public transportation system almost exclusively since I was 14 years old and have never owned a car exclusively in my name.

3) I garden because I like dirt.

4) I often seem to watch TV more so that I can talk about it online than because I’m truly addicted to the show.

5) I organize my closet by length of skirt or sleeve, type of fabric, and color.

6) I check TWoP and my email obsessively both from home and work.

7) I walk from one end of the corporate campus to the other and back again, twice, at about 2:30pm every day, because it’s usually the only exercise I can manage to fit into my day.

8) I set my alarm early enough to be able to hit the snooze button at least three times before actually getting up in the morning.

Tagged (I'm listing folks because the "rules" say I have to. Obviously, no obligation is implied):
Anabanana
Diablo
Jon - though I just found out he had to shut down his sites so that’s probably out
Christie
LA
Hmmm, I don’t think I know anyone else that both reads this and has their own blog. So…add your own lists to the comments here my dear 2 or 3 readers! You know you want to!

The Mommy Blues

I am just on a roller coaster of emotions dealing with Kirk of late. He’s so manic! Last weekend, for no reason, he turned to me and said, "Mama? Love." Oh! Joy! I’ve prompted him before but this was out of nothing. And yet last night he was so mean and nasty to me, taking out his anger at his dad and uncle for deserting him to go have a drinking and gambling trip with their cousins. He fought over every little thing, from dinner to diaper to bath. He didn’t even want to sit on my lap for bedtime stories! But when I dropped him off at K’s this morning he wanted up and then proceeded to give me the sweetest prolonged hug. I got a little choked up.

It is neat how he’s holding on now when he gives hugs. He used to just lean in and touch you with the top of his head. He still does that when he’s apologizing for being naughty. "Sorry. Hug." He’s starting to do that without any prompting, too. Manners with a nearly two-year-old are an ongoing process to say the least.

Another new development? His hands down his pants. All. The. Time. Seriously. And he fights so much harder getting his diaper changed because while it’s off he has unrestricted access to his wiener and balls. He finds it "funny".