The Little Car That Couldn't

So if you want details of our last few days of the trip, Chris' blog is slam full of them. Check it out. Of course, I do see one little difference in perspective, which is that once the car trouble started, I realized it was because my car didn't want us to leave Florida. It wasn't trying to be difficult... it just didn't want to go North! Makes sense to me!

And I must say that I kind of agree. I've been back for just over 24 hours and all the relaxing I did on my vacation is gone. My house is a mess (just as it was before we left), I've had to throw out two cooking vessels worth a total of about $100 because my house sitter (dear friend that he is) used them to prepare some sort of food that is apparently closely related to rust and they are now unusable. I do love him, but I will miss that pan and that cookie sheet. (It's still cheaper than boarding a dog for 12 days.) :-( My car cost $200 to fix, and they found another problem which they say would be $500 to correct. We're skipping fixing that for now. The car is once again driveable after $200... so I'm driving it. And then Murphy had another vet appt. to see how the medicine she is on is working. That was $230 plus she is now on medicine for hypertension. Add in the $23 for the rental car for today while my car was in emergency care, and we have managed to spend over $600 within eight hours, just after our not-so-cheap vacation. You would think we had money pouring out our ears. Alas, we don't.

And Murph has to go back next week for the same battery of tests to see if the new medicine is working. That's another $200.

So if you come over for dinner in the next two months, expect Raman noodles. And for Christmas, perhaps I can spare some soup from the pantry. *sigh*

I'm Falling

Well, this post will have to be short and will probably be full of typos. Why? I have lost the use of my middle right finger. How? Those who know me will not be surprised.

First, this trip has been great. If you are reading Chris' blog, you've heard various stories of Athena's cuteness and the fun we've had.

That said, yesterday we stopped in Grand Cayman. This is the only place where we purchased an excursion through the cruise line. We opted to go on the Nautilus, which is basically a glass-bottom boat. Athena loves fishes (especially pointing to them and saying, "FISH!"), so we knew it was a safe bet.

Upon exiting the boat, we had to cross a parking lot to get back to the little minibuses that were to take us back to town where we are to presumably blow a ton of cash. Again, those of you who know me know that crossing parking lots is especially difficult for me. After a hockey game a few years ago, I fell in the parking lot and broke a bone in my hand. Two weeks later, I was exiting the apartment building where I was staying in London and sprained my ankle. So you would think that I would be aware of this "walking across a flat surface" challenge and face it with more caution.

However, I was feeling great, I had the baby in my arms, and we had just had a terrific time pointing and saying, "FISH!" So I fell.

The pavement was uneven, and I didn't even notice that there was a danger until I was falling. The fall was complete slow motion in my mind. I had time to reach my other arm around Athena so her fall would be completely cushioned. It worked too! She emerged from the trauma very frightened but without a scratch on her person. I, on the other hand, put a nice hole in my knee and in wrapping my arms around the baby, I managed to crush my finger underneath my body.

Does it hurt? Hell yes. I happen to be travelling with two doctors, so they gave me a quick assessment (and didn't even charge me) and they think I have broken a bone in the top part of the finger... above the joint. Nothing to be done about it but watch it swell and turn pretty colors and take some Tylenol. I'll see my own doctor when I return to get some sort of protective wrap for it so I can work more efficiently. But the ship's doctor is not really covered by insurance and would cost a fortune. And since my doctors/travelling companions don't see it as a must-do... I'm putting it off until insurance will pay.

Now, is this a serious injury? Not really. It's not like some people I know who manage to actually cut off part of their thumb with a rope while boating, but it is a damn inconvenience. But it hasn't really dampened my spirits too much. After all, tonight is Pirates IN the Caribbean Night, and we get a real pirate show and fireworks on deck tonight. What could spoil a day like THAT? Certainly not a middle finger that looks more like a plum at the moment!

What I've Learned So Far

My husband has already posted some of the details of our trip on his blog, so I will offer you a few things I have learned from the experience rather than provide a travelog for you...

A man who normally does not wake up for major natural disasters will actually rouse himself out of bed at 5:15am without an alarm in order to get a sleepy baby into a car early so as to be at our destination 11 hours away that much earlier. This same man is a hero for this simple fact.

Another reason I love my husband... if we had been headed home instead of away from home, he would have adopted a stray kitten from a gas station. Of course, we can't afford to do that right now, but it's just enough to know he would have. (Don't tell him that I made a mental note of which exit it was just in case...)

Babies will not sleep in the car simply because it's a long trip and there is nothing left to do. They will also not sleep in a strange bed just because they are tired... at least not without a lot of prompting.

I love watching my child eat. She attacks food with such gusto and creativity. Some kids don't want their food to touch... Athena doesn't even care that the food is on her plate. In fact, she prefers anything that's on someone else's plate. And she will make a chore out of moving food from one plate to another. It's cuter than I can explain.

I cannot remember to bring a camera anywhere... even when I'm on a cruise and am just going up one flight of stairs for dinner. Eventually, there will be pictures of this trip... but none yet.

My daughter loves to dance. I knew this already, but I know it for sure now. She absolutely loved the deck party for sailaway, and at Ron Jon's Surf Shop, she was the little headbanger.

So I know a little more today than I did two days ago, and I will learn more soon, I'm sure.

The Amazing Transformation

I don't know if it's because he turned 30 or because we are about to take an 18-month old on a ten-hour drive, but my husband just changed from "guy" to "father."

Obviously, he actually became a father 18-months ago. That's sort of an instant thing. But what I'm referring to here is that change in attitude when you suddenly notice that a person has completely accepted and given in to his fate.

The evidence is as follows:

I called Chris at work today to see how the morning went and talk through a few pre-trip details (like the fact that my car sounds like it will tear apart every time I turn the steering wheel.) Then he asks, "What time do you want to leave for Florida?"

Now, this inquiry would be odd as I have told him about sixty times what my goal is for the morning in question, but after six years of marriage, I have come to expect these questions. So I once again explained that I would like to have the car packed the night before, so we can just get up and go whenever we are ready (preferably early, but I can be flexible).

Here is where it gets interesting.

Chris replied, "I'd like to leave earlier than we might normally get up. If the baby is still groggy, all the better... she will sleep in the car."

Now, I mentioned in a previous post that we have taken this same cruise (same ship, same itinerary) once before. That time we flew down the morning of the cruise. Even with a FLIGHT TIME that we COULD NOT MISS, I pretty much had to bodily drag this man out of the bed and roll him to the shower. (Actually, what I do is poke him in the chest and sing "We're going to DisneyWorld" until he gets up simply to get away from me. But it's just as effective.) Now he's telling ME that we need to get up EARLY to go on vacation! Either an alien has possessed my husband or he has made that switch from "single, carefree guy" to "father who wants to listen to as little whining as possible in the ten hours on the road so badly he will even give up sleep."

So we'll see if the transformation is complete when the alarm goes off that fateful day. :-)

Our Little Princess

Halloween was a blast this year. Every time the doorbell rang, Athena yelled "DOOR!" and ran to the door. We dressed her up, but didn't take her trick or treating. Before I got home, Chris had given her a Sweet Tart, which she loved, and then a Life Saver, which she also loved. So if her little mouth and nose seem sticky in the picture, you know why. And before you say anything, I know she is too young for hard candy. Someone tell my husband that, please.

Speaking of my husband, he apparently had blog envy and has started one of his own. I will eventually add links to the side of my blog so you can find it easily, but for now, you can follow this link and bookmark it.

Oh, and today Chris is 30 years old. And I didn't even say Happy Birthday to him until tonight. What a horrible wife I am. Happy Birthday, honey. I love you!

The Ugly Swimsuit - Part Deux

I have the best friends in the world. And I'm not just saying that because those of you reading this fall into that category. Really. :-)

On Saturday, I went to visit my friend Karen, who just delivered a handsome little baby boy about three weeks ago. Sleep deprived and milked to death, she received me with open arms and even fed me. (Hotdogs... yum!) Makes me proud to be a woman.

So as we chatted about all things maternal, I brought up my swimsuit ordeal. Having recently been through the whole pregnancy thing (right through the summer, I might add), she was completely sympathetic. And then, she went from friend to knight-in-shining-armour in one fell swoop. She retreated to her bedroom and produced two very cute maternity swimsuits! She thrust them upon me and I gratefully accepted her gift as if it were gold, frankincense, and myrrh (although there were only two of them).

Now, how shall I say this? I am... well... big-boned. And Karen is, well... not. My big bones extend into my chest area. And Karen... again... she is just not big-boned. She is tall, however, so often we can wear the same size, as long as it's nothing too tight. Sure enough, these suits are Large, and my normal size is Extra-Large. Still, I was willing to take the chance. After all, I've lost a little weight since conception, and Karen had just been pregnant... so perhaps we would meet in the middle.

So this morning, I tried on both suits, and can I just say... what is it they say in the Marines? BOO YAH! Yes, the boobs are a little mushed in, but they do seem to stay contained, and most important... these suits have BOTTOMS! And even better... those bottoms COVER MY BOTTOM! HOORAY!

So Chris and I made the ceremonious trip to JC Penney to get our $60 bucks back and send the hideous clown swimsuit to from whence it came. And this may be a good time to mention what a good sport Chris has been through this. He held his tongue when I tried on the suit, and even after I returned it, I had to tell him, "You know, it's okay to tell me that the suit was hideous." He merely indicated that I clearly KNEW it was awful, so why restate the obvious? He's so great!

Now I can look forward to sailing the Caribbean without inadvertantly flagging down the Coast Guard. Yay! Life is good.

Preparations Are Underway

Our anniversary cruise is just around the corner, and I am PSYCHED! We have our house/pet-sitter lined up (just in case someone was considering robbing us while we're gone), we have our tickets, and now, thanks to Hurricane Wilma, we have a new itinerary!

The cruise was supposed to go to Key West, Grand Cayman, Cozumel, and then the private island. However, poor little Cozumel was pretty devastated in the storm, and the port is not open to cruise ships at the moment. Instead, we are headed to Costa Maya, Mexico. I am especially excited about this because Chris and I did this same itinerary three years ago, and although we loved it, I am completely pumped to go somewhere I've never been. My friend Susan (who was kind enough to inform me of my itinerary change) said that she has been there before and enjoyed it very mucho. I'm kind of keen to see some Mayan ruins, although I have no idea how Athena will do at such a place. We'll play it by ear.

I also have managed to purchase the world's most hideous maternity swimsuit for the trip. I vowed I would not spend more than $30 for a suit, because I am only going to be able to wear it for a week, and I never intend to be pregnant again. So there was no need for me to dump a good deal of money into this. Well, my friends, there ain't much out there for under $30. And what there IS is God-awful. Here is what I selected. Go see for yourself.

Now, when you look at the picture, you may think, "That's not so bad." Which is indeed what I thought after looking at hundreds of REALLY ugly or REALLY expensive suits. But when it arrived in the mail, I thought, "Wow. That's pinker than I thought." And then I put it on. It fits, but let's just say I am not the model in the JC Penney catalog.

Oh, and did you notice that this is just the top? Neither did I! So when it came in the mail, I thought, "Where are the bottoms?! I need bottoms!" I looked at the catalog again and dammit all to Hell, the bottoms are sold separately. So suddenly, my $30 ugly swimsuit became a $60 ugly swimsuit. And before I ordered the bottoms, I did consider sending it back, but then I still would have had no suit. My belly isn't huge yet, but it's big enough that my regular swimsuit becomes a thong now when I put it on. Again, I stress my need for bottoms. It's pretty essential... especially when you are cruising with The Mouse.

By the way, go back to that page that I linked you to for the swimsuit. Do you see that other maternity swimsuit on the right? The cute black one with the little stripe? They don't have it in my size. Just in case you were going to ask... Trust me, I checked several times hoping they had restocked for some reason.

So we'll start packing this weekend. It's gotten cold here, so we can pack shorts and sandals and ugly swimsuits early. Hopefully that means I won't be running around in a last minute rush to get packed and I can enjoy my vacation right from the beginning. And don't worry. You will hear all about it as it happens. We plan to purchase an Internet package on the ship so I can update regularly.

Life in the 'Burbs

Our little town of about 30,000 people is just great. We moved here a couple of years ago after living in Raleigh for a couple of years, and although we felt like we were out in the country, we knew we had many conveniences close by. There was a Home Depot only about three miles away, as well as two grocery stores. And the downtown (all three blocks of it) had a small town charm that we loved... several antique stores, some offices, and three restaurants: a good Mexican place, a soda shop, and a Bistro. On top of that, one of the best Italian restaurants in the Triangle area is very close by. It has perhaps the most extensive wine list in the area. So really, we felt like we had what we needed. Then the movie theater and the Target were both within about a ten minute drive. So here we had the quiet of the country with the appeal of the nearby cities.

I really don't mean to write about all that in the past tense. Because we STILL have all that. But about a year ago, our area,which we were already pleased with, turned out to be the promised land... at least for us.

As odd as this may seem, the library here in our town is actually the busiest library in North Carolina. Again... that is in the entire STATE. That figure is calculated by counting circulation... how many books go in and out the doors. Seems odd for a town of 30K, right? Well, don't forget that we border Cary, which is one of the largest cities in North Carolina... and one of the richest. And many of Cary's fine citizens who live on the south end of the city limits come to our fair library because to date it is the biggest in the area. The downtown Cary library is also quite busy, but it is quite small.

So knowing this, you suddenly see why developers began to eye our little corner of the world. Perhaps only 30K people live here, but obviously people are willing to come here to visit. And within a year or so, we saw the beginnings of paradise (for us). Just as we started planning our family, we learned that we were getting a SuperTarget. Yes... Mecca was moving in. And with it was coming a whole lot of other convenience, including a movie theater and many many many restaurants. So as the business is moving in, we see our town spring to life, and we only have about a five minute drive to get to anything we want. The only way it would be better is if we could walk there.

So recently, that prosperity has come to our little downtown, and we noticed that they were building a new restaurant. The Peak City Grill sounded like it might be a little pub or sports bar, which would certainly be fine with us. But now it's open, and it's even better.

My sister was in town last night, so my mom drove in as well and we all had dinner together. With the baby, I really have to suggest restaurants that are close by and kid-friendly, but Mom wanted something "nicer." So we headed downtown to the little Bistro I mentioned earlier... good food, a more upscale atmosphere, but very tolerant of ranting toddlers. However, upon arrival, we found they were closed. It is Monday night after all... and they are always closed on Monday night. But the pregnant lady can barely remember she is supposed to go to work in the morning, none the less when the restaurants in town are open.

However, as we looked up and down the street for the alternatives, we noticed that the new restaurant was open! I didn't realize they had completed construction and were open for business, so we decided to give it a try.

Well YAY for us! This place was fabulous. The prices were reasonable based on the menu descriptions and they had plenty of specials. The kitchen is exposed to the downstairs dining area, so you know they have nothing to hide. They seated us upstairs and provided a high chair. And without going into a huge restaurant review... YUM!

My sister lives in San Francisco, so she's been living on some of the best food in the country for several years now. It's always intimidating to take someone like that out to a local restaurant... especially one you've never tried. Fortunately, she is very tolerant of all kinds of stuff, so I knew that disaster would be hard to come by. Still, I didn't even dream that I was about to have one of the best meals of my life. Food was expertly prepared and the cuts of meat we had were really phenomenal. I just can't say enough. If you live in the area, go eat at this place. If you don't live here, we'll go the next time you visit. I think I'm taking Chris there for his birthday on Saturday. I'm just so excited to have another fabulous, adult-but-okay-with-kids place so close by. I just see my property value go up and up! YAY!

Indoor Flood Zone

Chris' mother generously supplied us with a water filter system. It sits on the countertop and uses some advanced process to remove all the icky stuff from your water, a la Brita, only much better. It has a little spicket at the bottom of it and it holds several gallons of water at a time. So you dump water in the top, and a few minutes later... Voila! Drinking water so clean you can taste it.

So I bet you know where this is going. It's not really that bad, but it IS funny enough to share.

Chris is not a typical guy. When I say that, what I mean is that he actually reads the directions if not BEFORE assembling something... at least during the process. I love this about him, because when he has directions for something, he usually does it right... even if he's never attempted it before.

Needless to say, he has never attempted to put a Nikken water filter system together. So this morning after we had our waffles, he pulled it out of the box in all its little pieces and began to follow the directions. And he did a fine job... really. In fact, this is the first project he's done where there was absolutely no cursing or swearing through the entire ordeal. And despite the fact that I was hesitant to have yet one more thing sitting on the counter all the time, I must say it looks quite nice.

With the thing assembled, we headed upstairs as a family to begin our Sunday chores. They revolve around laundry, but include such subcategories as stripping and remaking beds, changing out towels, etc. Soon after we started the laundry running, it was time for Athena's nap, so Chris tucked her in and he and I got on our respective computers to pass some time and relax.

About an hour into her nap, I realized I was hungry. (An aside here: when you are pregnant, there are only two states of being... hungry and stuffed. There is no midpoint. One minute, you are content and feel completed sated, the next you feel you could eat your way through the State Fair. But I digress...) So I headed back down to the kitchen to forage for some lunch. And there I came face-to-face with about a quarter inch of water covering most of the counter and dripping onto the floor in front of the sink. By some weird luck, the only spot on the counter not affected by the mini-flood was where I had my handmade cookbook with all my favorite recipes in it. Someone was smiling down on me today, for sure.

Of course, the cause of the flood was immediately obvious: the water filter system. Apparently Chris stopped reading the directions right at the end, so he didn't realize that having the little lever in the "up" position meant that the spicket was open. Fortunately, it wasn't all the way open... just enough to let the water sort of drizzle out. And two beach towels cleaned up the minor deluge in seconds. So we're not talking post-Hurricane clean up efforts. We didn't have to call in FEMA or anything. Still, it was a sight. Spicket is closed now.

One day, perhaps we will get the hang of home ownership... The next project is to fix the huge holes in our wall where we tried to put a dog gate up and ended up merely tearing out chunks of dry wall.

And the Game Goes On...

Chris just posted a list to the comments field of my previous post, but I thought I'd bring it front and center:

Gavin
Marcus
Bryce
Donovan
Malcolm (Malcolm or Mal)
Ian
Nash
Drake
Alexander (Not sure)
Andrew (Drew)
Philip

We've been chatting a bit... and here are some thoughts on these that we've already discussed:

I have an issue with a first name that ends in "N" since our last name also ends in "N." This bumps Gavin (one of my personal faves), Ian (another name I love), and Donovan to the bottom of the list. The pisser is... all of these go GREAT with my maiden name. If only Chris had changed HIS name instead.

Malcolm - In the years following naming my dog Murphy, everyone who learned it commented "Oh, like Murphy Brown?" dammit. No TV names.

Alexander - I love this name and have lobbied for it since Baby One was of an unknown sex. However, even though it is a family name (Chris' side), he already has a cousin with the name, who may very well go on to be a professional football player. So this violates our "no names of specific family members" policy. However, that is not enough to eliminate it. And wouldn't a kid named "Lex" be the coolest kid on the block? It should also be noted that it's a very popular name at the moment, although the tendency is to spell it weird since people think that's the best way to justify the nickname "Zander" or "Xander."

Philip - Let's just say I know a Philip, and ... well... no.

Andrew - GREAT name. And millions of others think so too. I can't mark it off the list yet, though. I do like it.

Marcus - Great classic name. And we'd have a Roman to go with our Greek. However, it's not my favorite.

This leaves Bryce, Nash, and Drake. I like them all, but I have to say that Drake is really speaking to me. It means "dragon" and it reminds me of that great character from that series of books... you know... the one with the wizard... oh, what's it called? Yes, currently Drake is my favorite. How about you?

Banana Fanna Fo Fanna

We are in the midst of the name game at our house. We have three baby name books (two from the library, one from our personal collection) and we have begun the hunt. I've vetoed a name or two immediately (Hannibal?! Come on!) and so has he (Geoffrey and Sting... although I really was just kidding about the last one). So far the front runners are Ian, Liam, Andrew, and Donovan. I also still like Alexander, but Chris isn't sold.

So why don't you tell us what YOU think? Any suggestions out there? Remember, the middle name is set... it's Findley. Fire away. I can't wait to hear your suggestions...

No More Drama

Folks, pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit a spell. This entry may very well win a world record for length. I have much to tell about the events of the day. So much, in fact, that I'm not convinced today has only been one day.

When we last met, I told you about my ultrasound, the sex of my child (with illustrations) and the little calcifications on his heart. Because these calcifications are a "soft marker" for Down Syndrome, they wanted to schedule me for a Level II ultrasound (or in layman's terms, an ultra-ultrasound). Fine by me. More chances to peek at the little fellow in my belly.

So I waited all morning on Wednesday for someone to call me from the doctor's office with info on when my appt. would be. I was guessing for sometime next week. Just when I started thinking that I might need to call THEM, I got a phone call. It was my doctor's office... more specifically, it was one of the doctors. She was calling to tell me that they got the results of my AFP test and the score indicated an increased risk of Down Syndrome.

I won't bore you with the details of the test and how it is read, but you should know that this test is almost as likely to give a false positive as a false negative. It is merely a tool to determine if more testing is needed... it is by no means conclusive on its own. So, she wanted to schedule me for... you guessed it... a Level II ultrasound. *sigh* And even though I know this about AFP tests, I still found that getting results that are off of normal in any way is the single best way to terrify a pregnant woman.

Anyway, the doctor passed my file on to an appointment specialist (apparently she had it all morning which is why no one had called me yet to make the appointment) and they called me back within minutes. "Go to this office (address) at 2pm tomorrow. "

Egads! Tomorrow? Thursday afternoon? Why the rush? And dammit... I'm off Thursday morning and all day Friday! Why did they have to pick the afternoon?! So I called the office where I was to go to see if I could reschedule. No go. The next opening they had was next Wednesday, and my doctor really wanted me seen this week. Okay, now I'm scared.

So one of the ladies at work (without me actually asking her) offered to switch schedules with me so that I could work the day shift, thereby not having to come back to work after my ultrasound. Have I mentioned how great the people I work with are?!

Okay... so now we get to today. I went to work and spent all my time working desks because we were short-staffed. Ever since Friday (the Day of Bleeding), that level of work activity has been completely wearing me out. All the standing, sitting, walking, bending, lifting, stretching... it was killing me... causing great discomfort and generally draining my energy. Not today, however. Today, I felt like I wasn't even pregnant. No pain... no heaviness in the belly, and I was even breathing better. I was so excited to be feeling good that I almost forgot about my appointment. But I didn't.

I met Chris for lunch and we headed to the office together. Over lunch, we discussed some of the things that could happen today, and I relayed a conversation I had just had with my friend Staci. Staci has been my inspiration through all these difficulties with the pregnancy even though she lives almost as far away from me as possible while still residing in the continental U.S. She is my inspiration because when she was pregnant with her daughter, she failed every pregnancy test you could possibly take. She was driving three hours to Seattle once a month at least for ultrasounds while they monitored her baby for every defect known to man. And today, she has a perfectly healthy, happy, 16-month-old girl. Take that, you "soft markers!"

Anyway, Staci was very reassuring and gave me some pre-Genetic Counseling coaching, which I shared with Chris. And indeed, I was very prepared for the coaching session as a very pregnant counselor talked us through the risks. Basically, with the AFP results alone, she felt my risk factor was .4%. That's a 4 in 1000 chance I will have a baby with Down Syndrome. The calcifications, if the doctor today confirmed they were there, might bump me to 1.4%. So 14 in 1000. And I'm thinking, "Why the hell am I even here?! I wouldn't bet on those odds anywhere!" So the question of having them stick a needle in my belly to withdrawn amniotic fluid just to see if the baby really had any problems just floated right off the radar. Especially when she said that the risk of a complication with amnio is 1 in 200. I'm not seeing why I need to take a 1 in 200 chance of harming me or my unborn child just to confirm a 14 in 1000 chance. My math skills aren't good, but I'm thinking that's just silly.

Anyway, she left Chris and me alone to talk about it, and we both agreed that the only reason an amnio would even be a topic for further discussion is if the ultrasound showed some problems that we hadn't seen before. And considering how good the tech is at my doctor's office (well, in the Raleigh office... not the Cary one with the dino-sound machine), we really didn't expect to see problems.

And we didn't. What we saw, however, was extraordinary. We actually saw our son sucking his thumb. Better than that, we even got to watch as he moved his hand around in an effort to get his thumb to his mouth first, and then saw him succeed and enjoy the fruits of his labor. Our son is brilliant... even in the womb. The tech got a great picture of it, but unfortunately it doesn't scan well. Otherwise, I would have shared it.

Basically, they measured and evaluated every inch of him, which took a long time considering he's only a few inches long at this point. There was a calcification there (they called it an echo-something), but we once again saw all ten fingers and all ten toes. We saw a normal brain and a normal nose. We saw a heart that was beating well and plenty fast. And of course, we saw that little sign that confirmed once again that we are having a boy. The doctor released me saying that he doesn't feel my risk is any greater than the .4% we started with. We agreed with him, based on our extensive medical knowledge. And we are overjoyed.

So as I am driving home (Chris went to pick up Athena), I think about how glad I am that the drama is past. I'm feeling good, I have a healthy fetus sucking his thumb inside me, and life is good. I couldn't wait to get home and blog about it.

But when I got home, I went straight to the kitchen, where we keep my 13-year-old dog penned up during the day. There were two places where she had vomited, and she had also peed in a another part of the room. This was alarming enough, but then I saw her.

I don't know if I can describe this... basically... she had her head tilted all the way to the right. Her eyes were darting from left to right. And when I opened the gate to let her out, she could barely stand... and then she went the wrong way and ran into a wall. Clearly, this was not good. When I left her this morning, she was perfectly healthy. Now she didn't even seem to know where she was.

I called the vet (fortunately it was only 4pm, so they were open) and they told me to bring her right in. I carried her to the car completely convinced I would be putting my dog to sleep tonight. It takes about 20 minutes to get to the vet, and Murphy's condition was unchanged. She threw up again in the car and was clearly very nauseated.

They saw her immediately, and to make a long story short (?!) they felt sure it was a brain lesion... either a tumor or an infection. The vet started throwing cost estimates at me and explaining the sort of care Murphy would require for the next several weeks. This included a $1200 MRI to discover what was growing inside her skull.

So I'm trying to figure out what I can sell to come up with $1200. Is a kidney worth that much?! They took Murphy away to have blood drawn, which is a requirement for the MRI. I went out to my car to clean up the vomit. I returned to the exam room only about one minute before Murphy. And you will not believe this...

The technician returned with a huge smile on her face. I looked at Murphy and her eyes were no longer flashing back and forth. Her tail was wagging. The tech said that as soon as she drew the blood, the head tilted back up and the eyes stopped flicking. Sure enough, she put Murphy down on the ground and Murph came right up to me with tail wagging and no trouble walking. She followed me as I walked around the room and basically was right back to her normal self. The vet was completely flabbergasted. All she could say was, "I'm calling Neurology [at NCSU vet school] at 8am tomorrow. I have no idea what just happened."

This reminded me of an incident about two months ago when Murphy seemed to have lost the use of the whole right side of her body. I called the vet then, but within the two hours between the time I called and the time the appointment was for, the problem went away. I guessed that maybe her foot had fallen asleep or something, but now we think these two incidents are related. She will call me tomorrow after she talks to NCSU.

Mom thinks it was a stroke. I tend to agree with her. Of course, we have as much medical training as your average 5-year-old, but I still think that must be it. We'll see what they say tomorrow.

So this day has been full of ups and downs. Yes, I'm still scared that we are close to the end for Murphy. And no, I don't feel there is even a .4% chance my son will have Down Syndrome. He seemed perfectly healthy and happy. So not everything is resolved, but at least the coaster seems to have pulled into the station. May tomorrow be uneventful and boring. Amen.

I Think I See a Turtle There...

Well, folks. It's official. And 100% guaranteed accurate. In fact, you can see for yourself. We are having a boy. This image was taken from the bottom... literally. Think of it as having our little six ounce baby sitting on a glass coffee table and you are lying down underneath it, looking up. So you are seeing two legs, and between them... well, you know.

We had the ultrasound today to see what caused my bleeding, but they went ahead and did the full-on ultrasound that they would have done next week at my scheduled appointment. So not only do I know it's a boy (and won't he be thrilled at age 12 to know that all of you saw his genitals posted on the Internet way back in 2005?), but I have some other information, possibly scary, but probably not, as well.

First, let's talk about the bleeding. You may recall that when I went to the doctor on Friday, she performed an ultrasound machine that I believe had been used on living dinosaurs... it was that old. According to that reading, the doctor announced, "Well, the placenta seems to be where it should be." What she meant by that is that it was not over the cervix. This condition is referred to as Placenta Previa when it occurs later in pregnancy (often the bleeding occurs after week 26). If the placenta is still over the cervix at time of delivery, then a c-section is the only option.

Well, guess what! The ultrasound today showed, undoubtedly, that the placenta is draped quite clearly over my cervix. This is the cause of the blood. Now, the good news is that this is fairly common in second and third (etc.) pregnancies and often, the placenta migrates up the uterine wall as the pregnancy progresses (euw!! Gross!!). So, I am still somewhat restricted in my activity. But the doctor gave me the okay to lift up to 25 pounds or so and to do light housework (yippee). I can still work, but I should just "take it easy." Fortunately, I am looking at a rash of meetings over the next few weeks, so that keeps my activity level at work low.

The important thing is that I can still go on my cruise, assuming there is no bleeding within the next couple of weeks. So this is a secondary motivation (not that I really needed one) to really stick to the restrictions.

Now, the real purpose of this ultrasound would have been to look for possible problems with the fetus; most specifically, Down Syndrome. There are about four things they look for in the ultrasound that might indicate Down Syndrome. The presence of one of these is not much cause for concern, but the presence of all four is certainly alarm worthy. One is the presence of the fifth digit (pinky finger). One is the complete formation of the feet. So literally, they are looking for ten fingers and ten toes. Then there is something about the kidneys, which I didn't quite get. Finally, there are some calcifications in the heart that they look for. Turns out, baby boy Caran has those calcifications. But he has ten toes and ten fingers and his urinary tract looks okee dokey.

Again, one sign is not really cause for alarm, but they do have to follow up on it. Therefore, I will be getting a call tomorrow to schedule a level II ultrasound. This is basically an even better machine with even more skilled technicians. Hopefully, that will be scheduled next week. They will also get the results of my AFP test soon, and that will also provide some indicators.

So three times in two weeks I get a little peek inside me to see the newest family member. And now we know that he is a HE! So Chris is completely pleased with himself (he predicted a boy from about two minutes after the little plus sign appeared on my pregnancy test). If there is a bad side to it, it's me having to admit over and over again to friends and family that Chris was right. Again. *sigh*

The Scariest Day

Isn't it funny how you think you know exactly how your day will go, and then it takes some really unexpected turn and you have no idea where you are? Today was such a day.

I thought that tonight's blog entry was to be about the Hurricanes' season opener. Hockey is back and we are excited and we played Pittsburgh. They are a team that has Crosby, rookie to end all rookies. Just so I at least accomplish one thing I set out to do today... I'll tell you it was a great game and we won in a shoot-out. Very exciting.

Now, on to how my day was/is scary. I felt pretty crappy all day... just not enjoying being pregnant at all... bloated, crampy, icky. At about ten minutes of three, I knew I had to get back on the Circulation Desk for two hours, so I did what any smart pregnant woman would do. I went to pee. Here is where it gets scary.

Without giving you all sorts of details you don't want, I'll just say that I discovered I was bleeding. Quite a lot. So I did what any smart pregnant woman would do. I panicked and freaked out.

The true panic only lasted a moment before reason took hold, and I ran to a phone to call the doctor. I told my coworkers I would probably be leaving and they were quick to understand and cover the desk for me. I LOVE my coworkers. You couldn't ask for better people, really.

The nurse said I would certainly need to come in, but she said she wanted to confer with the doctor and then call me right back. I believe they needed to decide whether I should come into the office or go to the hospital. I called Chris to tell him what was happening and then read up on what bleeding during pregnancy meant on the internet to pass the time. The nurse called back fairly quickly and told me to come into the office. This, in itself, was reassuring.

Okay, long story short... baby looks good (I could only see the top of his/her head in the ultrasound, but saw a little reflection of a heartbeat). The placenta is where it should be (i.e. not over the cervix), but the equipment they have in the doctor's office dates back to Noah, so the pictures weren't crystal clear. There is possibly a blood clot on the placenta, which would explain the bleeding. However, it was hard to tell from the fuzzy picture. Most of the time, these clots go away on their own. Rarely, they cause the placenta to separate from the uterus, instantly terminating the pregnancy.

So, now I have an appointment for a better ultrasound on Tuesday afternoon. If all is well, it will take the place of the appointment I already had scheduled for two weeks from now for the routine ultrasound to check for problems/etc. I'll let you know how it goes.

In the meantime, the doctor did not put me on bedrest... but one step up from it. I was allowed to go to the hockey game (yay), but I was instructed to get to my seat slowly (i.e. don't walk fast and do anything considered aerobic exercise), sit there, do not cheer, do not stand and sit repeatedly, and when the game is over, climb back up the stairs slowly and leave. Then, the rest of the weekend, I am to "take it easy." No lifting, exercise, strenuous activity, etc. In fact, she encouraged me to do nothing but lie around the house. I am also allowed to go to work on Monday, but no lifting, bending, etc. Not sure what I will do all day in the library with these restrictions, but I suppose it will give me a chance to clean out my email box.

So that's the news. I'm still nervous, but hopeful. Thought you all would want to know. :-)

Superdad and His Trusty Sidekick, The Noodler

In our house, we make up superhero names for each other. I'm sure you do in your house too. And if you don't, humor me. We're card-carrying Geeks here.

I do not yet have a nickname. Although I suppose "The Librarian" is as close as I will ever get to one. Chris actually thinks his should be Ultra-Super-Megadad, but as great as a dad as he is, and as fitting as that may be, that's going a bit too far, don't you think? Indubitably. So Superdad it is.

Athena has already come into a name of her own... The Noodler. She has earned this nickname from her eating habits, of course. This is a child that will eat just about anything... raw onions, whole lemons - rind and all, and who can forget the tartar sauce? But... put a noodle of any sort in front of her... egg noodles, spaghetti, macaroni, tortellini... you name it, and she will devour them. She eats other stuff. She inhales noodles.

Now, you may think that being The Noodler is only a mealtime job, but no. It requires vigorous training. So Superdad has been teaching her to wrestle the enemy to the ground at any time. We suspect this may be why she tosses an occasional noodle to the floor with such force that if that noodle were a nail, we would need pliers to get it back out of the floor.

But what I really wish to describe for you is her training regimen. This strenuous program can really happen at any spontaneous time of the day, but many times, it happens after bath time and before bed time. It is at this time that The Noodler is appropriately dressed for wrestling in a stylish footed pajama and she is ready to work of the last bit of energy she has before collapsing into her crib. Tonight, I had the pleasure of watching as she moved through the difficult and taxing exercises. And when I say difficult and taxing... I am really referring to their effect on her trainer, Superdad.

First, Superdad worked on The Noodler's flying skills. Unfortunately for Superdad, The Noodler very much enjoyed being held over Daddy as if she were flying... so much so that she began to drool quite unexpectedly. This is not the unfortunate part. What was unfortunate was that she was positioned just over Superdad's nose, and... well... the drool has to go somewhere, yes?!

So as Superdad tried to recover from the sudden reverse nasal drip, he put The Noodler on the floor beside him. He continued to lie on his back, however, and I got to see The Noodler's patented move... the Rotini Butt Smoosh. She backed her bottom right onto Superdad's face, catching him completely unaware. She sat at the perfect angle to break Superdad's nose... but of course they were just sparring... so she didn't go for the kill. However, she did wish to assert that she had won the contest, so she proceeded to bounce on Superdad's face, as if he were her excercise ball.

And what did The Librarian do? Well, I have to ask, dear readers, what would YOU do? Hmmm? Exactly. I laughed my little librarian butt off. Who knew exercise could be so much fun?

Mama's Got a Brand New Yard

When I went to work today, my yard was a barren dead thing. Brown grass, overgrown hedges, and no real mulch in the natural areas to speak of. When I got back home at 5:45 or so, I returned to green grass and plenty of mulch mounded in my new natural beds. The hedges have been trimmed and moved to the side yard and new, nicer plants and hedges have been planted sparingly around. I also have a gorgeous young maple tree reaching up in my front yard promising years of shade in the future.

How did this miracle occur? Well, I tell you that it's amazing what happens when you pass a lot of money to a landscape designer. Chris and I have no hope of actually creating an attractive yard on our own. We both have black thumbs and absolutely zero knowledge of which plants grow in whatever zone it is that we live in. I wouldn't know a holly bush from a hemp plant. So after years of just wishing our yard would suddenly look beautiful... we gave in and paid someone to make it so. (If you live in the area, I recommend Brooks Landscape Design. I can give you the phone number).

Keep checking back to this post for the next couple of days. I will try to take a picture this weekend and add it. It's too dark now, unfortunately, to get a good picture. If I had really been thinking, I would have taken a "before" picture as well, but I obviously am not really thinking. :-)

On the Edge of Insanity

We have been pushing Athena this weekend. And we are learning quickly that she is not to be pushed. Saturday night would have been a disaster had we not had such understanding friends. Tonight went very well since we learned our limits last night.

We had friends in from London last night. They emailed us about a week or so ago and asked if we were free on the 24th because they were going to be in Cary "just for the night." Obviously, I was surprised at the short length of the visit, since Cary, NC, is not known to be a hub for international travel. Turns out, Wayne had a business meeting at Red Hat on Monday, and then they are leaving for New York to do some work in their office there. Cheryl is along for the ride. And they only had Saturday night because Wayne's boss was coming in today (Sunday) and he would be occupying their time.

The drawback to meeting them on Saturday was that their flight from Gatwick arrived at 4:15 or so. Athena normally eats around 6, so by the time they got through customs and picked up their car, it was going to be at LEAST 5:45 before they got to Cary. Still, how often do you get to see your friends from the other side of the Atlantic, so we arranged to be at their hotel at 6 to pick them up. We plied Athena with a snack, and since customs was slow, Athena had some time to work off some energy running around the hotel lobby.

Now, Cary on a Saturday night is often a challenge without reservations, but we didn't know where our friends would want to eat, so we didn't make any. I know of a couple of places where lines aren't normally too bad, and planned to suggest those places. We settled on Lone Star after we called Outback on a whim and found the wait would be 80 to 90 minutes. This may have been our first big mistake of the evening.

When we arrived at Lone Star, it was approaching 7pm. This is very late for our little munchkin to eat. Still, they said the wait would be 15 minutes maximum, and Athena was in good spirits, so we agreed.

30 minutes later, Wayne checked on our situation, and they said it would be... you guessed it... 15 more minutes. I went in to find bread for our child, who by now was pretty grumpy and pretty gosh darn hungry. The manager was very accommodating, and provided me not just with one roll, but with a whole basket. This did seem to help her mood quite a bit.

Then, she found the cactus. We were waiting outside, and letting Athena run a bit. Soon, she discovered the cacti growing around the front of the restaurant for ambiance. Most of the plants were quite dead, but she found one that was struggling to survive, and she touched it. This led to the meltdown of the century.

Fortunately, a spine did not lodge itself in her hand, but clearly the pain it had caused just in the brief contact she had was significant. Adding her hunger and her sleepiness to this, we knew it was simply time to go.

Chris ran in to tell the hostesses that we were leaving, and they practically begged us to stay. They offered to seat us next (despite three others in line ahead of us) and even said they had tweezers if that would help Athena's hand. Chris politely refused and we hauled it on out of there.

We dashed through the McD's drive through to get a happy meal in the hopes it would actually create some joy in our poor, exhausted child. The chicken and fries did seem to help, but we just couldn't get home fast enough to satisfy her. In our attempt to get home quickly, we lost Wayne and Cheryl, who had no idea how to get to our house. After some phone calls while Athena was in the bath, we agreed to order pizza at the house and I gave our friends directions to get here.

The bath seemed to calm Athena immediately, and sooth any pain she still had in her hand. We gave her some Tylenol just in case, and she sailed off to sleep without further incident. Our friends arrived just ahead of the pizza, and the rest of the evening went beautifully. But we have certainly learned our lesson about pushing our daughter.

Tonight, we arranged to go to the home of one of Athena's friends from daycare for dinner. His mom happens to work for the library system, which is really how we met, but Aiden and Athena are in the same class at daycare and they get along famously. We haven't been able to get together with them outside of daycare/work for quite some time, and I really wanted to make it up to Athena for keeping her out so late the night before.

We got there right at 6 with a side dish and some brownies, and they had just pulled the chicken off the grill. The kids sat at opposite ends of the table (I'm afraid Athena's manners weren't nearly so good as Aiden's, but he IS several months older...) and after dinner they PLAYED and PLAYED. They ran, they laughed, they threw pointed blocks at each other. They were so happy. It was such a different scene from the night before. So now I know... it's not so much how late she is out... it's whether or not she has a friend to play with.

That Fluttering Feeling

Any pregnancy book will tell you that if this is your first pregnancy, at fourteen weeks, you won't feel the baby move yet. That usually happens sometime around week 16. However, just as true as showing earlier (my belly stuck out about five minutes after I saw the little plus sign on my pregnancy test), you can feel movement earlier when this is your second or (God help you) subsequent pregnancy. And like clockwork, last night I felt a little gymnastics class in progress.

I am in Winston-Salem at a conference for librarians in North Carolina. During the long sessions yesterday, I had been having some back pain (a fairly constant thing lately, only exacerbated by the chairs designed by the Marquis de Sade that every conference hall buys in bulk) so when I got back to the room after meeting my mom for a delicious steak dinner in Greensboro, I decided to take a bath (also a fairly constant thing for me). As I settled down into the warmish (damn hotels) water, I noticed some fluttering in my belly. Of course, as any good human being would do, I wondered if it was gas. but then, I noticed my belly button kind of jumping a little all on it's own. THIS is a phenomenon I very much remember from pregnancy number one. It was a favorite passtime of mine to lie in the tub and watch my belly jump and shift all on it's lonesome. And yes, I watched this with an equal emotional mix of delight and horror.

Anyway, sure enough, I realized that the butterflies in my stomach were not actually in my stomach. I put two and two together and said hello to the little creature cooking inside me. We had a nice conversation where I asked how he (or she) was doing and he (or she) sort of kicked me in response. At this point, the kicks feel very much like a little tickle from the inside. Really, far more pleasant than the kicks I will get in just a few more weeks that are more like jabs.

Anyway, it's an exciting development in the growth of our newest family member, and I just wanted to share it with you.

At the Good Old Hockey Game

Tonight was Athena's first hockey game outside of the womb. I have to use that disclaimer, because the entire time she was gestating (or is that ME who was gestating?)... anyway.... while she was "cooking," we attended a whole season of hockey games. So she has heard the noise before, just from a very different perspective.

For anyone reading this who does not already know... we are season ticket holders for the Carolina Hurricanes, and have been for five seasons. This year will be our sixth. We took a forced hiatus while the players and the league worked out their differences, and that hiatus may have actually been the best thing that has happened to us.

The Hurricanes are so grateful to the season ticket holders for coming back, that we are getting all sorts of perks we didn't anticipate. They paid us 5% interest on our money while it stewed in their bank accounts last year. That was money I gave them before Athena entered our lives and drained our bank accounts. Then they applied one third of that money to this year's season tickets (this was a plan we chose... they had several choices including just getting this year's tickets with that money). Now the rest of the balance will stew for this year (giving us 5% interest) and one half of it will apply to next year. Finally, the remainder (still gaining 5%) will go toward year three.

On top of that, this year we got a 10% discount, next year we get 20% and the year after we get 30%. AND THEN they slashed ticket prices this year to get people to sign on. So, this year, I got my invoice, and INCLUDING the parking pass (we always buy one because it saves us about $41 in parking to buy in advance), the invoice was about half of what it normally is. In other words, we got two third-row NHL season tickets for the price of one.

BUT THAT'S NOT ALL! No, we didn't get a set of knives... but when we drove up to the arena using our normal route, the little parking lizard waved us on toward Premiere Parking (Normally about $5 more than standard parking and VERY close to the arena). I looked at the parking pass and almost fell out of the car. Sure enough, we had been given Premiere Parking for the price of regular. For the WHOLE season!!! This would have been welcome any year, but this year especially, with a one-year-old and being pregnant to boot. I nearly cried tears of joy as we slipped into a parking space only a few rows from the front doors.

So how did Athena enjoy her first hockey game, you may be wondering? I was concerned about how late she would be up (game starts at 7... her bedtime is anywhere between 7:30 and 8:00). I was also concerned that she wouldn't like being confined to our two little seats and our two little laps. And then, would she even like the hockey?

Well, folks, I am pleased to say that she had a grand time at the good old hockey game. She was fascinated byt the jumbotron. She loved watching the men skate around really fast. She thrilled at the music between plays. She headbanged. She danced. She clapped. She cried when she met the mascot (completely forgivable... he IS a giant pig, after all). She even quieted down during most of the play time and watched the game. She didn't seem to understand what all the fuss was about when we scored (which we did six times, incidentally), but she enjoyed it all the same.

There was a point, though, when I realized that I can never take her to a game by myself. Chris and I walked around the arena at first intermission to see some friends of ours. Athena got bored with that very quickly, and wanted to walk around. So I agreed to stay with her while Chris talked to his friends. When we got back onto the concourse, she took off running. She wouldn't hold my hand, and she was darting in and out of people's legs, nearly causing several serious injuries both to herself and to the poor, unsuspecting pedestrians around her. By the time we got back around to our seats, I was exhausted. Fortunately, Chris was at the top of the stairs waiting for us and he carried the baby down to our seats. I barely managed to huff and puff myself back down the stairs.

So, overall, tonight was a smashing success. I work this weekend, so Chris plans to take her to the next game (Sunday afternoon) by himself. She will not even be tired for this one... as she will have just woken from her nap, so I am sending Chris all my positive energy to get through the game.

My Kid Beat Up Your Honor Roll Student

As single, children-free folk (and even as married children-free folk), we all laugh at those bumper stickers that say something about someone's kid's good grades at ABC Middle School. We laugh because it seems so cheesy to put such a sticker on your car, and, remembering back to your own middle school days, the LAST thing you wanted your parents to do was to advertise your nerdy good grades on the car they drove you all over town in.

But when we have children, suddenly bragging is as natural as breathing. At least it is for my husband. I try to remain humble, quietly admiring how beautiful our little girl is, marvelling at how smart she is and how well she listens to us, and grinning whenever she tries something new. Sure, I notice that she is doing the same things that older kids in her class can't do yet. But I keep it to myself... like a nifty little secret.

My husband, however, would tattoo it across his forehead if he could. And I need to push a point here... it's not annoying at all to me. Instead, it warms me all over, listening to him fawn over her.

He always asks other parents in restaurants how old their baby is, knowing that Athena is probably younger and taller, just so he can say, "Really? My daughter is only 16 months! She's really big, isn't she?!" And he constantly sizes up Athena's classmates in school, noting how much more advanced she is compared to various children older than her. And he compares her temperament to others' as well. Athena, despite clearly having a very bad temper, is generally a very mild girl and treats others fairly well. (She does pull the cat's tail... we're working on that.)

There is nothing better than to see a father dote on his child. So where normally, bragging would set me on edge and drive me crazy, I find myself smiling and beaming with pride whenever he alludes to Athena being better than some other child. I can't help myself. After all, she gets all that good stuff from me... :-)

It's Potty Time

I am the one who reads all the books. What to Expect When You're Expecting, What to Expect the First Year, and soon, What to Expect the Toddler Years. Chris reads none of these, although he will listen intently if I share something with him I learned within their wise pages.

But his natural parenting talents came shining through tonight. And I will also say that this is a blog entry Athena will not be excited to read when she is older... Fair warning, Dear Reader, we are going to venture into toilets tonight...

When I came home from work on Friday, Chris had purchased a little training potty. Now, this is strange on several levels... as Chris is never the one to spend money on baby equipment. Toys and DVDs, yes... potties, no.

So I see it there and I think to myself, well, we would need one eventually... I suppose we might as well buy it now. Perhaps it was on sale...

Now, according to BabyCenter, children will normally show some signs of readiness for potty training between 18 and 24 months. So as the weary, pregnant mother of a 16-month-old (albeit an extra tall one) I haven't even really been looking at the articles about potty training in order to start preparing. After all, even though Athena has begun to show she understands pretty much everything we say, I have seen no indication that she is aware of the functions of the bathroom or of the physical signs indicating a need to go.

That said, Chris believes the time is now. And as he changes WAY more dirty diapers than I do, I can hardly blame him for trying. So when he took the training potty upstairs with him at bathtime, I cheered him on... secretly sure that this just was too early to work.

He tried to put her on the thing before her bath, but it was actually too late, if you know what I mean. So there was really no success to be had. Then this morning, he brought the thing in again before her shower and sat her down on it. She seemed to like it, but she climbed down off it and then peed on the floor. I'm telling you, the child just isn't ready, as far as I can see.

Then tonight, we went into the bathroom together, Athena and I, to get ready for bathtime. The training potty was in there on the floor, and she pulled it out. She lifted the little lid, and started to sit down. She then noticed she still had her diaper on, so she stood up, looked at me, and pulled on the diaper. I had to take the thing off anyway since I was about to plop her into the tub, so I did so immediately at her request. She then turned and went back to sit on the potty.

I continued to fill the tub and check the water temperature. When the bath was ready, I went to get her off her potty. When I lifted her from the seat... holy monkey! There was pee in the toilet! I couldn't believe it! I almost dropped her. I called Chris into the room and we both marvelled at the gift she left. (Parenting is the saddest, strangest business, I'm telling you.) Grandma Kervill is here too, so she came in to celebrate with us. It was quite a joyous moment.

Now, there's still a long way to go here, and that may be the only time she does it for the next three months, but wouldn't it be cool if she actually were potty trained before Baby Caran the Younger arrives? I am suddenly optimistic... and I suddenly feel the need to get a book on potty training.

Water Baby

Remember back at the beginning of the summer, I told you that Athena seemed to resist water? Well, our project "Force-the-Baby-to-Like-the-Wet-Stuff" seems to be a complete success. Here we are at the commemorative end of summer (just past Labor Day weekend), and we've seen a complete turn-around.

Athena has grown to really enjoy the water park at day care. She ran, frolicked, and splashed with the rest of her class for the majority of the summer. Bath time is still enjoyable for her, although oddly, she doesn't really play with her toys in the tub so much. But she sits patiently while you dump water over her head and shampoo her hair.

In addition to bath time, she also enjoys a morning shower. Sometimes it's with me, sometimes with Chris, and sometimes, she lasts through both our showers. She usually gets in, then stands there with her head down until she's completely wet. Finally, she totters over to the low shelf in our shower and takes all the shampoo bottles and soaps and puts them on the floor of the shower, creating a little obstacle course for whichever parent happens to be there with her at the time. You can put the bottles back on the shelf, but she will quickly correct your error and put them back on the floor.

And then, the final test... the pool. We have been trying to get to the pool each weekend for the last month and a half or so. We really slacked off about it at the beginning of the summer, but towards the end, when it was the hottest, we became more regular about it. It helped that we are heathens and found that Sunday morning, our community pool is completely deserted. We get the whole place to ourselves, which is quite nice.

So this weekend (Labor Day), we couldn't get there until Monday... the last day the pool is open for the season. And rather than go in the morning (which was actually a bit chilly), we packed up our gear and walked up there in the late afternoon. I looked at Athena and said, "Would you like to go to the pool?!" She ran to her room and grabbed her little swimming shoes! Chris was actually trying to resist going, but since she clearly wanted to go, he gave in.

We loaded her and the beach towels into her little red wagon that her Aunt Nicky gave her, and we marched up to the pool. For the first time, Athena REALLY seemed to enjoy being in the pool. She liked watching all the older kids splash around, and she wanted to "swim" from Mommy to Daddy and back again. We played until her teeth started to chatter, and then packed up to go.

It's really a shame it took her to the end of the summer to really enjoy the pool. Now we won't see one again until DisneyWorld. Oh, but that's only two months away! *bounce, bounce, bounce*

What I Learned Today

Most of my dedicated readers out there know that I am going on a cruise in November with my family and another family. And you all should know I'm pregnant, since I've nattered on about it for weeks now. The cruise line sent us some documentation right after we booked, and in the fine print, I noticed "DCL will refuse passage to any woman who has entered her 24th week of pregnancy."

Now, this struck me as odd, since a full term pregnancy is 40 weeks and most airlines, etc. will allow you to travel right up into Week 35. So I asked my prenatal nurse if she knew why the rule existed. She did not.

Mind you, I don't care, really, as I will have only entered my 20th week when we sail. However, I did have to carefully plan this. I probably would have started trying to get pregnant earlier than I did if I had been able to take the cruise. So this isn't coincidence... I knew the rule when I conceived.

Today, I had my first true prenatal appointment with a doctor. (First appointment is with the aforementioned prenatal nurse, and the second is with the groovy ultrasound machine and it's person.) So, I asked the doctor. And here is what she said:

If a woman goes into preterm labor before 24 weeks, there is little or no chance of the baby surviving. However, if the woman goes into labor during or after the 24th week, with good medical care (that is, NICU at a hospital), the baby's chances of survival are good to excellent. So, since a cruise ship doesn't have NICU, and could very well be some distance from the nearest hospital when something happens... they won't let you climb aboard. Liability is too high.

Who knew?! I find this information fascinating and depressing at the same time. Not as depressing as what is going on in Louisiana at the moment, but it's still icky to consider.

Speaking of Louisiana, does anyone think about those scenes of desperate people mobbing ferries and working vehicles in War of the Worlds as they watch the footage of Katrina's aftermath? Is it just me, or is living in Louisiana more frightening than living in Ethiopia at the moment? People are shooting at the folks who are trying to help them, and then complaining that no one will help them. The human animal doesn't take very long to emerge when survival is on the line. I intend to donate formula and other baby supplies tomorrow, but I'm concerned that the trucks will be looted and destroyed before they can get to the people who need the stuff. *shudder*

So Long And Thanks For All The Fish...

This weekend, we spent about two days with our very good friends Cathy and Kevin in beautiful downtown Frederick, Maryland. We drove up on Saturday, arriving about 4pm, and we leave tomorrow (Monday) as soon as they kick us out.

Athena has done very well in the car. The drive up was about six hours total including a Ruby Tuesdays stop and a McDonald's "Shake Your Sillies Out" stop. Then today, we drove her an hour to Baltimore to take her to the National Aquarium, which she really seemed to enjoy. She especially liked the sharks and the electric eel tank, which had lots of brightly colored plants.

The dolphin shows have been cancelled, since they just welcomed a new baby dolphin into the school (or whatever you call a group of dolphins). But we did get to see other dolphins (not mommy and baby) as they swam around and played. Finally, we ended at the "petting tank" where Athena met a sea star, a crab of some sort, and some rocks.

After the aquarium, we headed over into the inner harbor to meet Chris' sister and her husband for an afternoon dessert. They live just outside of Baltimore and were kind enough to drive in to meet us.

After returning to Frederick today, we decided to go out to eat for dinner and walked a few blocks to a local brewery/grill. Athena was being a bit squirrely, so at Chris' suggestion, I offered her the lemon from my water. She started nibbling on it immediately, and much to our surprise, she actually ate large chunks of it, rind and all!

Then, I ordered the Fish and Chips, thinking she would have some fish. After picking through some of my french fries and some of Chris' pizza, Athena discovered the tartar sauce. I will admit that this particular tartar sauce was quite nice, as it included lump lobster meat, but I am still surprised at Athena's next move. She picked up a fry, dipped it in the sauce, then sucked all the sauce off of it. We laughed, and then she went back for more. Needless to say, several french fries and a couple of ounces of tartar sauce later, we cleaned her up and headed out. Is there any nutritional value to tartar sauce at all? I sure hope so!

Anyway, a good time has been had by all. We hate to leave, and I'm always so sad when we do part company with them, as they really are the sorts of friends you'd like to have living down the street from you rather than several hours away. But we shall return... and probably in greater numbers next time! So be prepared, Bruce family!

An Update on the Walrus

Soon after I finished writing my last post about being constantly full and not being able to actually eat, I shut down the old laptop and noticed that the pain in my tum-tum was decidedly different. What is that? Is that... HUNGER?

Soon, I was in the kitchen, devouring anything I could put my little paws on, including a tube of Pillsbury biscuits (I did bake them first). And I felt okay. I thought perhaps the worst was behind me.

But alas, although now I am not uncomfortably full all the time, I am having a hard time knowing WHAT I am. Am I hungry? Am I pukey? Am I full? And if I think I may be hungry, anything I think to eat makes my stomach turn.

So this morning, I loaded up on carbs. Bread, really... okay, to be more specific, another tube of Pillsbury. After that, I felt perfectly awful. I almost couldn't go into work (I'm on a night shift tonight). I took a 45-minute nap (all that time alloted me) and struggled to get dressed and get in the car. As I drove into work, it dawned on me... hmmmmmmm... maybe I should have some PROTEIN! I tell you, a pregnant woman is a brilliant woman, n'est-ce pas?

So I got some chicken strips (I couldn't be late for work) and munched on as many as I could without filling up or getting sick. I ate them slowly, and I only got one down. Later, I went back and had another one during a meeting full of remarkably tolerant people (KFC has a pretty strong odor... not much you can do about it). Now, the final strip is in the fridge and it is calling me.

This protein plan seems to be working. I am also wearing my sea-sickness bracelets, so it is easier to tell when I am hungry vs. when I am just not feeling well. I'm still not in tip-top shape, but at least I don't feel like if I take a step I will collapse.

Now, a question for all those out there who have been through this (or perhaps those of you in the medical field). I have had cold chills almost every day since I found out I was pregnant. And it's been in the 90s here. I can't find any medical documentation of why this may happen. I do NOT have a fever... I have checked several times. Does anyone know what's up?

I Am the Walrus

Okay, I promise I will not lean this blog toward a pregnancy blog... well... no promises actually, but I really will try to mix it up. Today, however, I speak to you about pregnancy.

I am officially ten weeks pregnant. That is 1/4 of the way done. 75% of this pregnancy is still ahead of me. So why do I feel like a giant walrus?

You may remember when I told you about my cravings, that unlike my first pregnancy, this pregnancy has me eating every two hours. Well, as of two days ago, that is over, my friends. Yesterday and today, I have barely been able to eat breakfast and lunch, and I haven't been able to eat dinner at all.

I am not feeling nauseated, really. Let me describe it the best way I can... Picture eating Thanksgiving dinner. Now when I say "eating Thanksgiving dinner," I mean starting with the little olives and pickles and corn cob thingies all the way through the potatoes, stuffing and turkey (for my vegetarian friends... extra helpings of the potatoes will be fine), then CONTINUING IMMEDIATELY on to dessert -- pumpkin pie, apple pie, pecan pie, or any combination you may normally enjoy. You know that feeling you have right after you eat all that? As if you might explode if you simply pointed gently at your belly? Now, imagine feeling like that ALL DAY. You feel that way while you sort books out of boxes onto carts, as you bend down to the bottom shelf to retrieve that title for a patron, and as you walk across the library just to get to the breakroom so you can sit down for a cotton-picking minute. Are you miserable? I thought so.

So at lunch time, I still really wasn't hungry, but since I was scheduled to be on desks all afternoon, I knew I had to eat something -- last chance and all. I had a Chick-fil-a sandwich and then forced down about four waffle fries, simply because I paid for them, dammit... I needed to eat at least a few! And I have been paying for it ever since. All day, I feel like a giant walrus must feel... flopping around on flippers dragging that huge belly across the floor. I have been WADDLING today, and I'm not even showing! I can't wear my pants anymore, though... apparently my belly remembers what it is supposed to do, and it is doing it right now... way before it is necessary.

So I don't have slimy skin, a big moustache, or long pointy tusks... but I am the walrus... koo koo kachoo.

One Day We'll Wonder When She Will Shut Up

Athena is talking now. It's only a word here and there... Mommy, Daddy, doggie, kitty, see, yes, no, baby, and she does this little Tim Allen grunt for "What?" She isn't constructing sentences yet, but she's right on track for language.

She also cries a lot more frequently than she did. She gets very frustrated very quickly (not unlike her parents, I have to admit). For instance, tonight she was trying to pull her beloved train out of the toy box, and had not quite lifted it past the top of the box. Therefore, it kind of hung up on the thing, and rather than lift it further, she fussed. However, when I said "Lift it up more," she did, and successfully obtained said train and stopped said fussing.

In the spirit of saying a positive, then a negative, then a positive, I must say that she gives the most fantastic hugs now. You can ask, "Can I have a hug?" And she smiles really big and toddles over to you very fast and throws herself into a full body hug. It's quite lovely, I have to say. All those months of thankless nursing are finally paying off a year later.

Her hair is still very long. I have not given in to the urge to cut it. And I think I will be able to hold out until we go to Disney. The ladies at daycare managed to put it up in pigtails the other day. I tried, but couldn't manage it. But then, you know me and hair...

Today, My Sister Nearly Blew Up

Although it has only barely made the national news, there was an explosion in San Francisco today. A transformer under the corner of Post and Kearny blew up, injuring ONE person! Just one! With a big fireball and everything. Linda works one block away and heard/felt the blast. She called us immediately thinking it would be all over the news and that we would freak out... which we would have, had it been all over the news. As it was, I still had to dig around on CNN.com four hours after it happened.

But anyway, she is fine, most of San Francisco is fine (although the woman who was injured was apparently severely injured), and life seems to be puttering on as usual there. I'll be curious when they identify the cause of it. I just imagine some little cockroach walking across a wire and setting off the chain of events...

There is a better, longer story here if you are interested...

A Tribute to My Husband

The other day, my friend jl (a frequent commenter on this very blog) completely out of the blue, started telling me how great my husband is, mostly as a father, but also as a husband. And she happens to be a lesbian, so in my mind, this is really quite a tribute. She has seen him with me and with Athena, and I was so impressed to hear her say such great things about him. Sometimes I think I'm the only one who notices. And again, tonight, he did something worthy of public praise.

When I was pregnant with Athena, I took great pride in the fact that I had absolutely no unusual cravings. And I really didn't. I certainly craved fried shrimp or Mexican food from time to time, but as anyone who knows me knows... that is completely normal. I also crave a nice red, juicy cheeseburger from time to time, which sucks when I'm pregnant, because I'm only allowed a pinkish, not-really-juicy burger.

Anyway, as you can probably guess, this has not been the case this time around. About three weeks ago, I had to have some green olives or I was simply going to explode. I did, in fact, go to the store and get a jar... ate about five, and haven't touched them since. Still, it did feel good.

Then two weeks ago, I got a MAD craving for chocolate eclairs (with custard... not those cheap Harris Teeter knock offs) at about 9:30 at night. I was sorely tempted to head out to Wellspring to get one, but I wasn't sure they were open past ten, and it would have taken me just about that long to get there, so I talked myself down from the ledge and didn't give in.

Last week, I started craving yellow cake with chocolate frosting. The cake mix kind. Duncan Hines, pudding in the mix. I could have made one, but it seemed downright silly to make a whole cake just so I could have enough to squelch a craving. Finally, after three days of trying to push it out of my mind, I went to the store and got a small cake, but the closest they had to what I wanted was marble cake with that white sugar icing. I had a piece, and hated it. It's still sitting on the counter downstairs. I need to just toss it.

But tonight, I carried out the ultimate stereotypical scenario. Athena was about ready for bed, and all I could think about was a Nutty Buddy. You know the ice cream of which I speak? Those cones coated with chocolate on the inside, then filled with vanilla ice cream, then dipped in chocolate and nuts at the top? And I couldn't put it out of my head. I had already taken a bath, so I was in my robe. I debated... should I get dressed and go out to get one, or should I ask Chris? I have really been trying not to play pregnancy cards with him, as he really doesn't fall for it anyway, and I don't feel an overwhelming need to make him miserable whenever I am miserable. Don't get me wrong... sometimes I do just that, but it isn't intentional, I swear.

Anyway, this is why I sing the praises of my soulmate tonight. Because he put on his shoes, grabbed his keys, and, after explaining to our neighbor why he was heading out (I have to say that if I were him, I would have told someone too... somebody needs to be the martyr in this), he went to the store and bought me a whole box. In fact, he did one better and bought the Klondike brand, which has that pseudo-chocolate-esque stuff down the middle of the vanilla ice cream. YUM!

And to my credit, despite the fact that I was not at all hungry and was, in fact, feeling a bit overfull, I ate a whole cone, and I felt BETTER after doing so. So it really was medicinal... not just some wacky craving that really did not need to be acted upon.

So I've done it. I've sent my husband out at night to get me ice cream. Fortunately, I didn't wait until midnight or anything. It was only 7:30. But all the same, I love the man for doing it. I love him for many reasons, but he HATES to go back out at night for anything... especially to go to the grocery store.

Thank you, honey. You are da' bomb!

The Pilot's Wife by Anita Shreve

This is a book that Oprah once chose for her esteemed book club, which would normally make me resist it with every bone in my body. I am not one to want to follow the crowd when it comes to reading...

However, my book club selected this book, and I read it from cover to cover. It was depressing, yes, just as any Oprah book usually is, and just as Anita Shreve usually is, but the style and language were easy to read and really engaging. Through a combination of "here-and-now" chapters and brief flashback chapters, a woman discovers that her recently deceased husband (a pilot) was leading a double life. Worse yet, she never even SUSPECTED a problem. This raises all sorts of philosophical questions about trust and secrecy and sharing in a relationship. It also reminds us how important it is to really communicate.

Maybe I'm sentimental because I'm pregnant, but I would recommend this. It's a good summer read, since it goes so quick, but I wouldn't recommend reading it while on a plane. The pilot dies in an explosion over the Atlantic. Not really something you want to tuck into at 30,000 feet.

Sleep

One of the side effects of early pregnancy that I felt last time AND that I am experiencing again this time is sleep. You may ask, do you mean you sleep all the time or do you mean you can't sleep? And to this I say, yes.

Basically, I cannot stay awake very well for more than two hours at a time. Obviously, I do it, because it is generally considered poor form to sleep at the reference desk or while checking in books. However, on a day I don't work, I generally take a nap in the early afternoon (often the same time as Athena) and then on any given day, I generally have trouble staying up past nine pm.

But then, I find myself waking frequently in the middle of the night due to my overactive pregnancy bladder, and then I can't get back to sleep. Like now, as I write this at 4:30 in the morning, munching on Triscuits. The Triscuits are not meant to help me sleep, except for the fact that they will hopefully stop the intense hunger I am suffering, which will, in turn, make it possible for me to return to peaceful slumber.

The insomnia hasn't actually been too much of a problem over the last week, because Athena has been waking around 2pm for no apparent reason (perhaps teething, perhaps nightmares) and wailing uncontrollably until one of us goes in there to comfort her. To get her back to sleep, we have to rock her for hours (usually two to three hours) and we have been switching off in this task some nights. There have been some nights when Chris has just done it himself, bless him, since she seems to calm faster and easier in his arms. But I certainly have done some time in the rocker. Often, after that period of rocking, I am able to sleep through the rest of the night with no incident.

Tonight, however, Athena is sleeping like an angel (do angels sleep?!) and here I am, cramming crackers into my face and wishing I could drift back to dreamland. I am counting the days until the second trimester, when my body will supposedly return to a fairly normal state... unless you count the lump that will form in my abdomen. But I'll take a lumpy tummy over this any day...

The Rabbit is Dead

You may or may not know the old story about how a woman used to know she was pregnant. There are several versions floating around out there, but basically, a woman's urine would be injected into the rabbit. If the rabbit died, she was pregnant. Or, another version of the story says that actually the rabbit HAD to die, because they had to look at her ovaries to see if she had reacted to the pregnant woman's urine. I'm thinking that either way, I'm certainly glad we now have little sticks to pee on. Poor bunnies.

So yes, the proverbial rabbit is dead. We are expecting a wee one round about March 21. Then our family, as far as I'm concerned, will be complete. Chris still makes noise about a third, but I've told him he can have the third one if he wants.

So far, this pregnancy has been more difficult than my first. I started feeling sick at about three weeks, which is before you can technically do a home pregnancy test. I finally took the test a few days before you are really supposed to because if I hadn't seen that little plus sign, I was going to call the doctor to have my head checked. The nausea was really significant.

And last time, I could barely eat. I lost a good ten pounds in the first few weeks of pregnancy. Not true this time, unfortunately. I'm maintaining a steady state of overweightedness. Joy. And I have to eat every two hours or so from waking until midnight! And I'm craving cake. *sigh*

I have included our first ultrasound in this post. When we did this with Athena, we saw a little black and white fuzzy lima bean on the screen with a little E.T. heart lighting up as it beat. So this time, Chris and I were certainly looking forward to seeing our little plantlife, but we weren't going in with high hopes. And, as we started out, everything looked the same as before. The machine seemed newer and fancier, but it was the same black and white blur on the screen. Then, the technician flipped a switch and... what's that? A HEARTBEAT!!! Normally, you can't hear a heartbeat until the 10th or 12th week. And there it was. Strong and regular. And then, just when we were sure the surprises were through, she announced it was a 3-D ultrasound! She flipped another switch and we were presented with images like the one I've posted here. A lima bean no more, our little offspring clearly has a head, little arms, little legs, and a little tail! (That tail does go away... we all had one). This image really doesn't even do the images we saw justice. The still shots are not as clear as the motion. (Oh, and if you are wondering, the little blob toward the bottom left is the yolk sac -- baby food).

So there's the big news! Chris thinks it's a boy, and I have to side with him (even though I really want another girl) because this one has been so different. However, I hear that no two pregnancies are the same... which is really unfortunate. My first pregnancy was a breeze. I was really hoping for a repeat.

How Not to Sell Me Something

First, I should apologize for taking so long to post an actual interesting story rather than just book reviews. We are having some issues with our wireless network (again) and I haven't been able to plug in with the laptop. I'm home sick for the morning, so thought I would seize hubby's computer, which is hardwired in, so I could share this little tale with you.

Last Monday afternoon, I called Chris at work and explained that my Mexican Craving Gland had taken over control of my body and the only hope to cure it was to go to La Rancherita for dinner. He agreed, which was odd in itself, since he normally fights going back out to dinner once he is home... and also since we are broke and promised ourselves we wouldn't eat out so much. But, he also knows that once the Mexican Craving Gland takes over, well... all hopes of a normal home life are gone until it is stopped.

So I arrive home Monday night at my normal 6pm-ish (damn commute) and I am pretty much starving. I dart into the house, planning to scoop up the baby and toss her and Chris into the car to head back out. As I turn the corner into my living room... what's this? A twenty-year-old blonde, cute and freckly college kid is in my chair! And she has... what's that? A SALES portfolio.
Muttering a small curse under my breath--part of this curse was dedicated to my husband's endearing weakness for cute sales people--I smile and allow myself to be introduced.

She's selling an "educational kit" designed to help me teach my child at home. Yippee. I'm starved. So I say, none to kindly, "Look, I am starving and need to eat now. Could you possibly come back another time?"

"Oh SUUUUUURE," she purrs... and we set up a time for tomorrow evening. We go get Mexican food. I am happy.

Tuesday evening arrives, and so does she. This time, and this is partially my fault because I actually agreed to the time we arranged, she arrives just as dinner is ready. So she sits at the kitchen table while I stand in the kitchen cutting up the baby's chicken, and she launches in...

"So do you KNOW what I LOVE about APEX?!" she coos. We have already learned that she is from Montana.

"No... what?" I take the bait.

"People here are SOOOOOOOO interested in their kids' eduCAtion!"

Oh brother.

"Did you know that children learn more between the ages of 0 and 5 than at any other time in their LIFE?!" she continues...

I nod. I did know that. I am a parent, and I studied to be a teacher. I've read a book or two.

"Well, is little Athena in daycare?" she asks.

"Yup." I offer, helpfully.

"GREAT!"

Oh, good. I am so relieved that the 20-year-old approves of my choice for child care. Of course, it turns out that she was setting me up.

"You know... most daycares today won't even put the ALPHABET up on the wall, because they don't want to make the kids who are less able feel bad that they can't read..."

Um... what?! "I'm sorry... I don't mean to call you a liar or anything, but I assure you that we pay quite a bit of money for a daycare that we researched pretty thoroughly. And I have seen alphabet flash cards in the room for the two-year-olds. They DO teach children the alphabet, among many other things..." I'm getting pretty annoyed now, and my food is getting cold.

"Oh." She tries another angle... "So have you lived in this neighborhood long?"

I'm thrown a bit. "Three years."

"So you must know..." and she opens up her book and starts rattling off my neighbors' names. I only barely recognize one or two, but apparently, this tactic is designed to make me bow to peer pressure. If ERIC down the street bought this product, then I must buy it too! Steam is coming out of my ears.

"So," she pauses, "are you interested in seeing these books and software products."

Now, I am normally very nice to sales people, as I used to be one. But I NEVER knocked on doors without previously being invited in. And I am watching my egg noodles get cold. There is very little in this world worse than cold egg noodles. So I turn on the mean meter.

"To be perfectly honest," I say, "I am not interested. However, you have come a long way, and I am willing to at least look at what you have. But I will tell you up front that I will probably not be buying."

I have to give her credit. She doesn't take it personally and she plows ahead. "What if I tell you how incredible affordable it is?"

Now, you and I know that I just admitted we really didn't have the money to get Mexican food the night before, so I am tempted to say, "you mean less than $20?" But I refrain. I DO say, "I would like to see the quality of the books..."

She opens her bag and produces a book. I have to admit, the books were nice and colorful, and I certainly see that if I were homeschooling, they would really come in handy. But since I turn over an amount of money equivalent to a second mortgage to pay other people to educate her all day, I am not really thinking we need these, even a little bit.

Then she describes the software. This software (a collection of CDs) is designed to be used when she is in grade school. Like 4th-6th grade. 4th grade is 10 years away for her. Miss Montana called in "an investment in the future." I call it "coasters" since I am fairly certain any application I buy today is not going to work on my computer in 10 years. I mean, 10 years ago, I was using a Mac Performa with a 2X CD-ROM drive. Oh, and did I mention that they are all about science? I'm equally sure that science will change a bit in 10 years. As a librarian, I wouldn't recommend an encyclopedia that was more than 5 years old... So I'm failing to see the value in the "value added" products in this package.

So I ask her the price. She gives us the spiel about how much people would expect to pay for this number of books (citing that picture books cost $25 each, mind you -- I'm a librarian, so I kind of get them for free, at least for a little bit at a time). She comes up with something like $1200, which I imagine is true for the number of books and coasters we would be getting. Then, drum roll please... she announces it can be ours for $450!!! The best part is, I can pay now, and the books will be here by the end of the summer! Whopee!

So I politely decline her offer to take my money, and she looks me square in the eye, opens her own eyes wide, and says, "Don't you want to help your CHILD?!"

I almost threw the cold noodles at her. Fortunately, Chris shuffled her out the door while I muttered to myself about how people are duped into spending way too much on their kids. Then I look around my house and remember that I am one of those people. I may have passed up this one, but I know I won't escape forever...

The Traveler by John TwelveHawks

Don't you just hate it when you really look forward to a book because you have heard so many wonderful things about it, and then the book turns out to be a total turd? Alas, this is what happened to me with The Traveler.

Basically, The Traveler = The Matrix. There are chosen ones (well, really one, when you get right down to it, but there are several with similar talents) and there is a Vast Machine that gives all the people on Earth an illusion of freedom when it is really all a mock-up. Only the Travelers can see other realms, and therefore reach enlightenment. And the Harlequins have sworn to protect them through all time.

But The Brethren have wiped them all out (except two Travelers and about four Harlequins) and... oh, forget it. You know the rest.

This book is the first in... wait for it... a trilogy... that has already been sold to... wait for it... a major motion picture studio. The only thing that makes this book remotely unique is that the author may actually believe this stuff. He lives "off the grid" (no credit cards, phone numbers, etc.). Apparently, he doesn't want the Vast Machine to know of his whereabouts. Apparently, he doesn't think they will notice all the money spilling over to him from the major motion picture studio. Apparently, he hasn't been taking his meds.

Harry!

I shall try not to put any spoilers in my review. However, you may comment all you would like and include spoilers. That said, do not open the comments window unless you wish to read spoilers.

My review...
Harry. Brilliant. Dark. We knew that person had to die eventually, didn't we? Is Malfoy as bad as he wants to be? Is there a more complex character out there than Severus Snape? Harry and the gang hook up. More angst in one chapter than in a whole Sweet Valley High book... oh, but it was GOOOOOOOOD angst.

When did my little Harry grow up to be such a man? *sigh*

When is book seven coming out? Isn't it a shame this has to end one day?