telerib: (uhh)
All right, it was the ceiling, not the sky. My mother-in-law's ceiling, at about seven in the morning, at which point the kids had already been up for an hour and a half.

Thankfully, no one was under it when the several square foot hunks of plaster came crashing down. We hustled the kids onto the porch so that they wouldn't try to eat old damp plaster. This was Wrong and Bad and resulted in much whining and crying until we were packed up and in the car. (To be fair, it was a long weekend and they were low on sleep because they GOT UP AT 5:30)

Brother-in-law came to the rescue later, getting the rest of the creaky ceiling down safely.

Just so very random.

Oh noes

Jul. 21st, 2010 07:32 pm
telerib: (Default)
According to Wikipedia, my marriage is a sad, sad sham, an empty shell, the merest cover for my husband's closeted sexuality.

But, you know, [citation needed].
telerib: (uhh)
Also at the event (Moose Tourney and Collegium) this past weekend... I was chatting with several ladies, comparing baby notes. One, young but certainly an adult, mentioned something about how she was born/very young during Desert Storm.

And I'm thinking, There's no way you could have been born during Desert Storm. I remember Desert Storm, I was in high school, that was only ten... no wait, fifteen... no wait... when the hell did it get to be 2010?

1991 is almost twenty years ago. Holy cow. I've lived in Maryland for over ten years now. On the one hand, it hardly feels like it, like I must still be the new transplant. On the other hand, my "hobbit hole" basement apartment in Hyattsville feels like it was part of a different life, long ago. Longer ago, in some ways, than my family home in NJ - maybe because I still go there? It's still a part of my current life, whereas that first apartment and the whole lifestyle that went with it (living alone, grad school hours, late nights at the gaming store, daily calls to my long-distance boyfriend except on Buffy Night) are vanished, gone, and replaced with my current married with two kids, townhouse-dwelling, weeknights-in schedule.

I wouldn't trade back, although I'm sometimes envious of the freedom that younger me had. Those were good times, but so are these. Just different.
telerib: (spud)
I successfully did the interfacing at the neck of the Arnegunde coat I'm making. Finally! I made a neckline that isn't deformed and the contrasting fabric on the interfacing ended up right-side out! Woo!

...okay, so two of the gores are wrong-side out, but the seams are finished very nicely (thankyouverymuch) and I'll just sew them flat and pretend like it's embellishment.

So. All going quite well. Going to bind the cuffs in satin, sew up the sides, slice down the front and then bind the raw edges in more satin. Hem the bottom, more satin optional, and it's done.

And guess who has started rejecting the breast at feeding time? It's been 50/50 the past three days whether or not Ben will nurse. I think he prefers the instant gratification of the bottle, or maybe he's just more used to it now - on an average workday, he gets one, maybe two feedings from me.

I mean, it'll be a nice overtunic regardless. It's just very *headdesk*y that the person for whose benefit the garment is being made is now mooting its purpose.
telerib: (spud)
Ben turns four months old in a week and a half! He is rolling over and pushing up when he's on his stomach. He can try solids. Solids!

Where did the time go? The first four months with Spud seemed a lot longer. Maybe it was the NICU/breastfeeding drama and the spit-up problem and the first-time parenting drama. Moving might have been a factor - the pictures of Spud getting his first cereal are in our current house, but he was born while we were in the trailer. So that "break" seems to separate things in my mind. Maybe the extra month of maternity leave, and the relative quiet of a one-infant house, slowed things down.

When Spud was a baby, I remember all the advice about treasuring every moment because it's all gone so fast, but thinking that my actual lived experience was that each day could be very, very long. With Ben, the days seem much shorter and they're ticking past faster.

Solids!
telerib: (sca)
New reconstruction of the 'Arnegunde' grave outfit.

I have been trying to figure out early period nursing garb and... oy. I figure nursing slits, but how do you layer them on the under and over-tunic so that nothing gapes or shows through? Well, if your over-tunic is open down the front, Frankish/Kentish style, there's half the problem solved! Discreet side vents on the undertunic and you're in business. And the outfit just looks awesome, anyhow.
telerib: (Default)
As personal tradition insists, today I must mention, at every possible relevant opportunity, that my grandfather lived near Punxatawney and that indeed, I once went shopping at the Jamesway that used to be there when I was a kid. Not that I remember the trip, or anything about Punxy, but I do remember the grey coveralls with rainbow hearts on them.

Honestly, I like Groundhog Day. There are no Socially Mandated gifts to buy, no drinking culture. And isn't February 2 Lammas/Candlemas? I could totally get behind making it a small weird family holiday, marked with some special food and some stories or poems looking ahead to spring.
telerib: (Default)
...pushing your kid around the kitchen in a cardboard box.

Laziness is deciding it would be simpler to tie a ribbon to the box and pull it.

Engineering is realizing that the ribbon will probably tear through the box, so you poke two holes in each side, thread the ribbon all the way around, and let the kid's own back (pressed against the far side of the box) help support the stress of pulling him. And then, wondering if a dual-ribbon tiered system would be even better for an even distribution of the stresses.
telerib: (sca)
Dear Spouse: I saw your posts on the tafl thing on your LJ. I had no idea it was so involved.

Me: I told you, I tell the LJ about it to spare you the details.

Dear Spouse: I didn't know the embroidery was so... fraught.

Awww....

Jan. 3rd, 2010 08:07 am
telerib: (Default)
Ben has started smiling, 'ah'ing and cooing. I won't say that it's the sweetest thing, because Spud does a lot of very different sweet things too, but it does seem very... pure. In the way that new things are pure. And he seems as delighted to be able to share his happiness as he is to be happy.
telerib: (captain)
The four series we watch again and again (and again and again and again and...):

Bob the Builder: Dynasty for Kids

Bob's an alright bloke, but Wendy? Look out. Wendy will cut you. You don't think it was accidental that Martha broke her ankle just before the line dancing contest so that Wendy would have to dance with Bob, do you? Also, something seems not quite right between Mr. and Mrs. Sabatini - I think she's having an affair, but he's too besotted with her to notice.

Mighty Machines: Best Unintentionally Porny Dialogue

There's usually a questionable line or two in any given episode, if you have a sufficiently juvenile mind ("Heh, he said 'big load,' heh heh") but the choicest quotes come from the "At the Sawmill" episode

"My scoop is really big. It might not be the biggest in the world, but it's the biggest in the lumber yard, and I'm proud of it."

"My scoop is so big, it just takes a minute to fill you up."

"Maybe they could take a picture of me!"
"Yeah, the calendar boy for Big Scoops."

Pocoyo: Best Nods to the Parents, Best Body-Positive Messages Without Preaching

Pato the Duck in particular has moderately subtle reactions that the kids won't get, but the parents will.

We've counted two "Screw you, Stephen Frye!" moments when the characters seem to be silently telling the narrator to bugger off.

In an episode featuring a hungry caterpillar, Pocoyo feeds it Pato's cake, his table, and his chair. Then he eyes Pato, but shakes his head 'no' and gives the duck a pat.

Also, I like that, without making a big fuss over it, the Pato and Ellie the Elephant characters are disabled and fat, respectively. But Pato's tiny wings don't prevent him from playing blocks or baseball (he balances blocks on his bill and drops them into place, and also uses his bill for a bat), and Ellie is a graceful ballerina and just as active as the others.

Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends: Most Unintentionally Creepy

Sir Topham Hatt is emotionally abusive. "Really useful engines don't argue," he tells James, when the engine protests an assignment. He appears to be the Secret Ruler of the Island of Sodor, doing things like opening the fair. Shouldn't a mayor do that, not the railway controller? And what's up with him and Mrs. Kindly? She's sad because her sister cancels a trip, and he drops everything and assigns a helicopter and a train to chivvy her around to cheer her up?

Never mind the whole "sapient trains who work all day for no apparent recompense" aspect. The only things they seem to want are baths and new paint jobs, both of which they can only get at the say-so of... guess who? Sir Topham Hatt.

And really never mind the "Magic Railroad" movie, the deconstruction of which would be its own post.
telerib: (Default)
"Breastfeeding should not hurt!" - Rhode Island Department of Public Health

"Though some tenderness during the first few days is relatively common, this should be a temporary situation which lasts only a few days and should never be so bad that the mother dreads nursing." - Pediatrics.About.com

"Breastfeeding should not hurt." - US Department of Health and Human Services PDF

LIES. ALL LIES.

Eventually, breastfeeding should not hurt. I am happily at that point now. But that "some tenderness"? Or the "gentle pulling sensation" I read described elsewhere? Yeah, maybe for some women, but "pain that makes your toes curl" is also normal. It was probably worst for me the first week, but that seems like a really long time when you're looking at toe-curling pain every 2-3 hours.

I had this problem with Spud. Trying to breastfeed him kept hurting. His latch looked okay, but "breastfeeding should not hurt," so I'd pull him off and try to latch him again. And again. And again. Eventually, we saw a lactation consultant who said, "His latch is fine."

"But it hurts!" I said. "I read that it's not supposed to hurt."

"You have a baby gnawing on your sensitive bits," the consultant said. "Of course it's going to hurt."

Word.

Also, what appears to be my hyperlactation (aka "damn near drowning the baby") is starting to resolve itself. Which is good, because I think Ben is learning to be a lazy nurser - why suck if the milk will just stream into your mouth?

On the other hand, this could be my last chance to write my name in the snow. Heaven knows we have plenty of snow.
telerib: (spud18)
I seem to be having some problems with Flickr. Right-clicking no longer lets me save the picture's URL; the link in the page source appears to go to a small version of the picture. Hrm.

Well, here's what I got.

Mom and Ben
Mom and Ben, after delivery.

More behind the cut )
telerib: (captain)
1. Blackberry pie is made.

2. Someone Else will cook the turkey breast.

3. Someone Else will scrub and cut up the potatoes. I will boil and mash them. (The belly makes it hard to get close to the sink and counter to scrub and chop.)

4. Stuffing out of a bag, augmented with fresh onions and celery, probably Dear Spouse preparing it.

5. Nana will make squash, possibly tonight.

6. Gravy out of jars.

7. Peas in a steamer bag optional.

I am totally okay with this. My Big Thing is the pie, honestly. The only other thing that could say "Thansgiving" louder is grandpa's homemade sage stuffing, and dear grandpa isn't around anymore to make it (and I haven't hit upon the right trick to making it yet). I am just psyched about having a low-stress, pleasant family meal in my own home.
telerib: (spud)
I had an ultrasound this morning to check the baby's position (head down, hurray!), and he is very much a boy. He's weighing in at 7.25 lbs (+/- 1 lb) and measuring 37.5 weeks - a week older than expected. But late-term ultrasound estimates of due date aren't so reliable (because babies come in an assortment of sizes and shapes), so I'm not going to pencil in Nov 12 as a new due date.

I meet the Labor Companions on Wednesday - they're nursing students with some doula training who provide free doula services out of Johns Hopkins. Our doula from last time does not do the doula thing anymore, and the other one we contacted cost twice as much. (And I can't guarantee my dad will happen to be in town this time! Seriously, he was an awesome doula.) Then Thursday is another midwife appointment.

Nana arrives on Thursday and is staying til Tuesday, mostly to give the Dear Spouse a break. I'm doing okay taking care of myself, but there's a bunch of stuff I can't do around the house anymore and it's all falling on him. Add to that Spud's sudden need to always be on Dad's lap and he's feeling frazzled. Nana plans to come back down a week before my due date to help around labor and delivery time, too.

Cross fingers and knock on wood that it all goes at least somewhat closer to according to plan this time!
telerib: (captain)
...we name the next kid Laurence, then get the family a Portugese water dog?

Larry, Moe and Curly, right?

(ba DUM bum, cssh!)
telerib: (spud)
I had my 20-week sonogram today. Preliminary results were at the midwives' by the time I got there this afternoon, and no major problems were reported. I assume they'll be taking a closer look, and in particular the tech had trouble getting a good view of his spine, just because of positioning. So I may or may not have to go back, we'll see. But hurray for healthy!

The tech thought she "saw something" and said it's "probably" a boy, but the angles were such that there was no clear image. Looks like a baby brother!
telerib: (Default)
...but totally spaced on needing to send it several days before the holiday because, you know, mail...

Hallmark E-cards FTW! (link has video and sound)

He's a big e-card sender, too, so there's no risk of paternal ire over 'you couldn't be bothered to send a real card, eh?'

And when I saw this book featuring robot gorilla pirates from Mars, I knew what Moe was getting for Father's Day.

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