Monday, October 26, 2009

Baking a pie & messages in the sand...a picture blog.

My friend Vicki made an apple pie a few weeks ago. She made it look good. And easy. Good & easy...two words that describe me well. So I thought this would be right up my ally. After arguing with the woman at Sam's Club who didn't want to sell me apples, I finally got around to making it.

This is my adventure.

First, when making a pie you have to have a few things.

First (2nd first), you need stuff.

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Make sure your husband has dropped & broke one of your pie crust, that's important to get the right look later. Oh, you also need to make sure you have a random purple cow butt on your stove.

You also need a cat annoying you on your counter, while you scream "THAT IS RUDE, OLLIE!"

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Because, you know, cats have manners.

Next, have your baby demand an apple, only to throw pieces in your floor.

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Then, have your husband decide that is the time to feed all 8 of your cats.

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After that you need to go out & buy an apple peeler & corer. Is corer a word? Who cares, it is now. If you don't have these items, you'll be stuck doing this...

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Peeling your apples & trying to do the rest by hand, which turns out badly in most cases. And it has nothing to do with the fact that there is a ghost haunting that picture & making it weird looking. Looks like that apple watched The Ring & has 7 days now.

Anyway, I do have a peeler. I was very excited when I moved to Huntington because I bought a peeler. When I lived near my parents, they thought peelers were a waste of money. Most annoying fucking belief I've ever had to deal with. Almost as annoying as an ex of mine who carried water all the time because he was "dehydrated." He wasn't just thirsty, he was just dehydrated, he insisted there was a difference & he wasn't just thirsty. Both ideas are stupid. That obviously has nothing to do with pies, I just like making fun of that guy whenever possible.

Um, anyway, back to apples.

Know the other problem with apples? Slicing.

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I really suck at cutting anything up. My parents were paranoid growing up & didn't allow me the use of a knife until I was about 15. Seriously. So I'm lacking in knife skills. I asked Adam what he suggested & he told me to hold the apple while I cut it, towards my hand. Um, why don't I just avoid getting blood on the apples & just slit my wrist over the sink instead? Same end result, no pie & I go to the ER. So I just ignored his idea.

As I chop my apple, I realize I need a bowl. So I reached up....

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And got one.

Then...

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A bunch of stuff fell onto me. Fun.

So I go back to chopping.

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And every time I make a slice, it basically breaks apart. Fabulous.

VICKI WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO ME?!

But I slowly fill up my bowl...

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By slowly fill up my bowl, I mean I cut up 2 apples. And I kept trying to find ways to do this easier. So I finally decided I should core the apples. But how should I do that?

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I stabbed them, of course.

Then I just kinda scrapped them clean with my knife.

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Then I had to stop & look at my son with my mop pad on his head.

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Productive.

I finally decided I had enough apples...

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Then I put some shit in there.

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BTW, shit goes like this...cinnamon, sugar, brown sugar, & a little flour. I added sugar because I have a huge sweet tooth & didn't think just the brown sugar would be enough. I also used self rising flour, just because it was the easiest thing to reach. What can I say, I'm lazy.

I had my two thawed pie crust...

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And I dumped my apples into one of them...

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Of course, to do this right, you need to make a big mess.

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But then you just throw them in & make it look like you know what you're doing.

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I then peeked into the living room. Oh look, my son got naked.

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And I have no idea what he's doing to Elmo.

Anyway, back to the pie. I threw some butter on the apples...

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Pretty, huh? You haven't seen anything yet.

I rolled the 2nd crust out of the pan, quickly realizing that maybe I should have bought those crust that are just rolled & not in a pan. Why? Because my crust didn't work out that well.

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...that is bad, I know. To get a pie like this, that is why you have your husband drop & break one crust, because it continues to fall apart since it's all cracked.

I put the ugliest pie on earth into the oven...

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And hoped for the best. Best being that it doesn't taste like it looks.

At this point the pie directions from Vicki said to bath a baby. I didn't have a baby to bath, so I took a nap on the couch.

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And Jules tortured me.

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After about 45 minutes, my pie was done.

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I tried to find it's best side.

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I couldn't find it.

But eventually we cut into it.

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And plated it, of course. Or bowled it I suppose.

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And it actually didn't suck. It tasted nothing like it looked. If it did, we'd be in the hospital. It tasted just like apple pie!

...it was then I remembered I don't really like apple pie.

Oh well, the others who live in the house like it, so it's almost gone. Hooray for pie making!

Today, after I recovered from that pie making incident, we went to the park. First, Jules tried to run away & act like he didn't know us.

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So sweet.

Then he found a little girl & proceed to destroy her sand...things.

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Yay, I have that kid.

I then decided to write Jules name in the sand.

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He liked to stomp over it.

I then decided I should do some shout outs. So...

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HI LIZ! Oh yeah...

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Preston, too!

Adam drew this...

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Then I zoomed in. This one is Vicki...

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Nice rack, Vicki.

And this one? Neil...?

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Hmmm. I never knew Neil was really a walrus.

Then I thought about our friends Shannon & Lee & their wedding. That reminded me that...

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This is my graphic of what will happen when the zombie attack occurs. We three will survive. Adam? He'll get a week. And why?

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Because cats are better than zombies.

And then, of course, there was this glory.

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I'm really weirded out by some of the stuff at this park. I just noticed today that there is a dinosaur.

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I tried to get my kid to pose with it, but he just shoved his arm into it's eye & into it's head.

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Of course, know what was really disturbing to me? All the play stuff has little pictures. Like this one...

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It's a horse & buggy. Cute. But then I found, well, this...

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...stripper? Doesn't has as nice of a rack as sand Vicki above.

Everyone get your dollars ready anyway!

Started with pie & ended with strippers. Kinda came full circle there I think.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

The story of my friend.

My friend died today. The friend I'd had the longest.

My friend was my dog, Star.

She was a Golden Retriever. I still remember my dad telling me he was getting me a dog in the parking lot of Kroger. I picked her over another puppy, now idea why.

I mean, I know it may sound lame, but she really was my only friend at times. When life got hectic & I'd be crying, she'd be there laying in the floor with me. Sounds pathetic maybe, but living in my house you'd sit in the floor & cry, too. The dog didn't have a mean bone in her body. She was loved by many. Because of her huge size, she kinda became a bit of a legend in my school & was featured in several speech class videos. Not even mine sometimes. People shot videos at my house to have "Big Dog" in the movie or commercial.

She'd gotten old. But she was still my friend. She had problems getting around, but let me see if you don't when you're old. Hell, I have problems getting around & I'm not even 30 yet.

I can accept death. Obviously. But I can't accept what happened over the past few days. Star didn't die because it was her time, she didn't die because she was sick, she died, I believe, just because. Let me explain.

Once my parents moved closer to me about 18 months ago, Star was, well, a pain in their asses. It broke my heart to hear them talk about her, making fun of the fact that she just laid around or slept, complaining that she was slow & my mom commenting that she just felt like hitting her sometimes. My mom often complained that they couldn't go anywhere because of Star. Adam & I had discussed taking her in, but because of her size & age, our house with the hills & steps weren't very friendly for her. I knew the day would come where she'd be put down. I'm not stupid. But I didn't know it would all go down like this.

You see, my dad went out of state a few days ago to visit my grandma. My mom was getting sick before he left, the 2nd day he was gone I called & she told me she was really sick. I told her I'd let her rest, but to call if she needed anything. Just after 9 on Wednesday, the same day, she called & said she thought she needed to go to the hospital. I asked what was going on, her symptoms sounded like H1N1....Swine Flu...Piggy flu...whatever you want to call it. She again said she wanted to go to the hospital, but when I offered to pick her up she told me she couldn't ride in a car, she would have to take an ambulance but she didn't want to. I tell her to let me get off the phone & talk this out with people.

I tell Adam then I call my dad. My dad starts off telling me how basically she's making it sound worse than it is, she's not taking care of herself, she makes herself sick every time he's out of town, blah blah blah. Basically, he thinks it's no big deal & she's being dramatic. He talks me out of worrying too much. At this point I also explain that Adam & I realized that in case she does have the flu, I shouldn't get around her since I'm pregnant. He agrees, we hang up, I call her back. I tell her that we think if she's going to go to the hospital, an ambulance may be best just so they can start her on fluids & get her seen quicker. She wants me to come over & "look" at her to see what I think. I then explain that I shouldn't really get around her, just in case. She tells me she doesn't want to go to the hospital even though I try to talk her into it.

The next day I call her around 11. At this point, she wants to call an ambulance but only a certain ambulance that I can't find the number for. Ugh. I then tell her to just call 911. She gets mad & tells me I just "don't understand!" & that she wants to wait until my dad comes home before she goes. She's off & on yelling at me over it, but I ignore it & go on, talking to her calmly. I stress to her again & again that she needs to go now if she's that sick, not wait until my dad comes home late that night. I tell her not to worry about the dogs or anything, to just go & if she does we'll make sure the dogs are alright, I'll have Adam bring her what she needs or wants, I have a house key, it'll all be fine. She hangs up with me & tells me she'll call if she goes. I give her a couple hours & call back...no answer.

For the next almost 24 hours I call & call. No answer. Same when I try to call my dads cell phone. I leave messages & get nothing. I finally stopped calling around 11pm, start up again Friday morning. After several calls, my dad finally calls me back around 2. He's angry. Tells me that I "left her laying over there sick" & went into how I should have made her go to the hospital, I should have called an ambulance & just have them show up. He claims he thought this the entire time & tried to call & tell me, but I never answered.

...not true according to my caller ID, mind you, but whatever.

He really didn't seem to even want to give me her hospital room number, when I tell him I'll just call & get it myself he tells me how my mom doesn't want to talk to me. Um, alright. He then tells me that he got home late, had to take care of the dogs & clean up Star's mess since she peed (in the garage, mind you), & then he had to take Edna things to the hospital. I tell him what I'd told her the day before, he basically acts as through I'm lying about telling Edna I'd take care of everything. Again, she was just "left laying over there sick as hell." Turns out, she called an ambulance soon after our discussion the day before. He knew the whole time because she called him, but no one could bother to call me. And I love how he claims it was very serious all along, though he was basically saying she was putting on an act because he left her home for a few days alone just a couple days before.

I give it till that evening & call again to see if any of the test are back. Eventually my dad calls me back & tells me everything is negative. I, again, tell him I wish someone had let me know but he ignores me & starts on "Star is old & decisions are going to have to be made." He goes on to tell me how she's my dog so it's really my choice, but it's something to think about. He mentioned that she peed the night before, but again, that wouldn't have happened if someone had let me know I needed to take care of the dogs. We get off the phone & I move on about my night. A couple hours later, my mom calls me from her cell phone. She flat out starts the convo with "I want you to call a doctor & have Star put to sleep. I'm tired of it all. I told your dad to tell you that, but I don't know if he did, he says he doesn't remember."

I stop her & tell her dad & I had a small convo that we'd need to think about options. I guess she knew that already, but when she found out my dad didn't flat out tell me she was demanding my dog get put to sleep, she wanted to call & tell me herself. She didn't want to talk to me about anything involving her. She told me the hospital phone didn't let her dial cell phones...? Same hospital I had Jules, I called cell phones so I know that's not true. When I told her I tried calling the house & dad's cell phone all Thursday & all morning that day & that Adam & I were talking about going to check on her & all of this, that I wish I'd known she went to the hospital so I could help her & take care of the dogs, etc., I realized the phone was quiet. She'd hung up on me. According to my phone, the line had been dead for a decent amount of time, so as soon as I moved past "I want to put Star to sleep because I'm tired of dealing with her" she just hung up on me. Great.

At that point I let Adam know everything going on, he even ask again if we should just go get Star. We see her every time we're at their house, she was nothing like they claimed she was anytime we saw her. Yes, she had a hard time getting up, but I blame that on the fact that my parents insist on tile floors & she slips. But I don't worry anymore last night, I figure I'll call my dad this afternoon & see what's going on.

Well, my phone rings early this morning. When I finally find my phone it stops ringing. I go to unlock my touchscreen & right then my mom's cell number comes up & I accidentally hit "reject" because I was trying to bring up my missed calls list. Oops. A minute later I have a voicemail, I listen of course. It's my mom, in her crazy angry person voice, telling me "We already got rid of Star, so don't worry about it."

And that's how I found out my dog was put to sleep. Mind you, I live 10 minutes from them. If they were going to do it, they could have called me. There was no reason my dad couldn't call & tell me. I think my mom called just because she wanted to get to be the one to break the news to me. And there was nothing new going on with her. The dog was the same as she was a week before, but they had to put her to sleep anyway.

Real reason? Paranoid & weird of me, but it was spite in our opinion. My mom was annoyed I wouldn't come sit with her & expose myself & Piccadilly to whatever she could have had. My dad only heard her side of the story, which was that I just left her over there. Mind you, I offered Adam's assistance, told her not to worry about everything she was worried about that we'd do everything for her, but I guess since I didn't rush to her bedside I was wrong. And I guess since I was so uncaring, my dad decided to avoid my phone calls as well on Thursday. I suppose in my mom's fucked mind, she would have been able to go with my dad if it weren't for Star & wouldn't have gotten sick. And they decided that this was finally the time that they felt like she was too much of a problem for them. Plus, bonus, I get punished because my dog is dead & I didn't even get to say bye to her or be with her. Chances are she was alone, scared at the vets office. Great. Just great.

Again, I know this all sounds weird & paranoid, why would people put a dog to sleep for spite? Well, if you ask yourself that you obviously don't know how my family works. They are very good at spite & anger. I have that, too, but even I have my limits. While my parents love me, at the end of the day they are pretty, well, self centered. It's a problem they've always had & I"m sure they always will have.

At the core they are very appearance obsessed. Not just actual physical looks, but whatever can make people think badly of them. Even little things bother them, mainly my dad. I remember being little he wouldn't let me wear my new shoes out of the store because he thought it made people think we "looked poor" & I didn't have shoes until then. He use to get mad over a doctor sending us bills, claiming that their bills looked like a collections notice & he didn't want people to think he couldn't pay his bills. My mom was just worried about being fat & spend years not taking care of herself like she should to ensure she stayed in a size 3. Imagine me, not a size 3, growing up in that house. ....yeah, loads of fun.

And on top of that, there is the spite I've talked about. They will do just about anything for it. Hopefully it's not the case, but my mother once said that if certain people, members of our family, were invited to the kids birthday party she's not sure they'd come. I'll be the first to admit that my family has sucked in the past. They weren't very good to us for years. But that was also years ago. My parents want to continue to play the spiteful "we don't have any family interaction" game & I guess they expect me to play it, too, because they seem to think it's odd of my to get together with my cousins wife & their kids every so often, to talk & email family members, & to want to invite them to things. Sure, I could be mad over things from 10 or 20 years ago, I really could. But why bother? As long as things are different now, which they are, what is the harm? And if they don't want to, fine, but why expect us to follow suit?

Silly me though, I suck, so that's why. My parents were paranoia also involves me. From a young age through my adult years, my parents were suspicious of anyone around me. From friends to boyfriends, they didn't really like me. They wanted something from me. So chances are my extended family isn't spending time with us or letting our kids play, they are trying to find out something about my parents. Yes, this is something they would think. My mom actually lectured me not too long ago when I mentioned she came up in convo, in a very good way, that she was angry I talk about her with anyone & to not talk about her to any of my family again.

I'm sure they think Adam wants something from me, too. And it's true, he does. Blowjobs, he wants blowjobs.

So what does this have to do with my dog? Spite. And revenge when I go against the grain they think I should go towards. And this was not only revenge, but it also got rid of a problem in their heads.

I offered what help I could. I wasn't going to go personally expose myself to who knows what just to make a grown woman go to the hospital. And you'd think a woman who is so paranoid to think that I should remind everyone around me that I'm a dead baby mom would want me to stay away from sick people & hospitals. I wasn't going to risk getting sick, dying of some flu, or the health of Piccadilly to make my mom feel like I cared enough to be involved in what was going on. And, of course, I still love that my dad claims now to think the entire situation was serious from the start, but a few days ago she was a cry baby. Part of me wonders if he jumped on the angry bandwagon in order to prevent me from telling my mom about the fact that he didn't think it was a big deal. He's good at that, too, making a situation where things don't come back to haunt him. I've been a great scapegoat for years. I remember when I was growing up he'd get mad at my mom & rip up papers she wanted to keep or break all of her makeup...when he got over it, he'd tell her how I must have done it. For years she was convinced I was basically fucking with her. And I'll spare you about how there was a time I found an email from a woman directed to him & he swore up & down that I'd been online pretending to be him. Because, you know, 12 year old girls always pretend to be 40 year old men online...makes perfect sense.

I know, this has gone far away from my dog, but when this happened I can't help but to reflect on all the craziness I've dealt with when it comes to my parents & maybe I think if I explain a little about how they've worked you won't think I'm nuts for thinking that this was done purposefully.

So now they can go where they want, don't have to worry about Star moving too slow, & they got to hurt me by knowing that they purposefully didn't call me so I could say goodbye to the dog I've loved for years. The dog who played with me when no one else would. The dog who made me not mind going to my parents even when they sucked.

The only thing that doesn't make me sad? Realizing that she was too awesome for them anyway.

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Last picture of Star taken, just about a month ago.

Adam & I have already discussed...as soon as my mom starts moving a little slow, we're loading her up & taking her to the vet.

Oh, & if you're wondering, there is nothing wrong with my mom. Well, medically. Everything came back fine. Hope she's walking fast next time we see her.

Someone do me a huge favor.

Someone tell me this baby won't die.

I keep reliving that whole "there isn't a heartbeat" moment, only now I relive it in that little ultrasound room at the doctors office I'm using on the 2nd.

I guess your last memories of dopplers & ultrasounds showing nothing but death don't really make you very optimistic for the future.

I suddenly hate that we've told people. Not that I don't want them to know if we lose another baby...I just don't want to give people more proof that my uterus is spoiled.

Oh, the joys of fear. Here I am with something the size of a pea inside of me & I'm already scared, thinking too far ahead, & trying to make decisions from simple to huge. My mind races anyway, this hasn't helped it to calm down. I'm hoping that after the ultrasound I'll be better. I've never been worried about "viability" before, but now I'm suddenly scared since I know babies can die, even my babies. I know once I see Piccadilly is there, growing, & has a beating heart I'll be alright. You know, until the anatomy scan that tells us for sure if our baby is alright or not. I'm planning on making a list & having Adam check off everything they find & label, just so we can know he/she has all her parts. Not looking for fingers & toes, I'm looking for kidneys & other organs. And after that, I'll be alright again. Until the 3rd trimester. But that's a whole other story obviously.

I lie. I really won't be alright until baby is born & crying. But I can get by easier if I know I can start putting my eggs in this basket. Part of me is still trying to pretend it's not real until I know for a fact it is real. And by real, I mean safe.

A very kind person contact me last week & offered to send me their digital doppler. Very awesome of them, they saw I mentioned I was going to get one, they already had one & asked to be able to send it to me. I offered to pay for it, but they didn't respond to that comment, only that they'd be sending it out in a few days. So this is my official shout out & thank you to Sara. I appreciate your kindness & understanding my paranoia. I'll think of you every time I use it & feel better about going about my day knowing Piccadilly is alright. Thanks for the peace of mine, my husband & I will both needs it some days.

Oh, & this is my thank you shout out to all the kind people who've emailed me & left comments in the past couple weeks. I appreciate it all very much.

Nice people DO exist in this world, don't give up hope of those few people. They can show up randomly & they can be total strangers. Actually, I've found strangers to be more awesome than even family sometimes. So be nice to strangers, you never know, they could be there for you one day. And sometimes, because of what those strangers have been through, they know how you feel & what you think more than your best friend or family can. I know that personally, I'm thankful for those strangers. I hate any of us have this thing that binds us together, but know I'm thankful for you.

Now. Tell me everything will be alright. Thanks.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

With knowledge comes...paranoia.

When you're knocked up they give you all these testing options. Nothing requires more than a blood test, just screening test to see if you have higher odds for your baby to have this or that. It ranges to the basic downs to fatal conditions. Depending on how your test come back, they offer you actual test to diagnosis the condition, like an amnio.

This doctors office not only offered me the AFP test, but a test to see if I was a carrier of cystic fibrosis. If I was a carrier, they'd test Adam to see if he is & if he was we'd move onto actual diagnostic test.

Any other pregnancy I've passed on these test. I saw no reason to worry myself. The midwife I saw with Jules at a doctors office commented that she was glad I was passing because "it can ruin things." And that is my thought, I don't want to know my odds are higher for this or that.

Then I became a dead baby mom & things changed.

I suddenly wanted every test possible. Hell, if I thought I could get away with buying an ultrasound machine I think I would try to. So when the nurse at the first paper work visit handed me a paper to sign "request" or "decline," I didn't even think about NOT picking request.

You can never have too much info, right? Right. Knowledge is power, right? Right.

I've now been eaten up with guilt for a week over me signing request for those test.

I sit & think to myself "what would it change?" I compare it to Joel. If someone could have told me he was going to die, would it have changed things? No. No amount of prep can prepare you for that experience. If I found out that he had a condition without a chance to live only a short time, if any, after birth would I have terminated or just gotten induced early since he'd have no chance of survival? Would that have been easier?

It wouldn't have. It'd still hurt like a bitch. No amount of preparing can help you with that loss. I would have done things the same way...only difference is I might have went to another ultrasound place to get actual pictures so I could have more of them. But I wouldn't end my pregnancy early, I wouldn't have terminated the pregnancy. It would have been the same. Oh, Adam wouldn't have gotten that vasectomy I suppose either, but that's beside the point.

The only real difference would be those months before. I would have spent every moment thinking that my baby was sick, that my baby might die, that my baby may have died already, that the last thing I felt really was the last thing I felt. In that case, knowledge isn't power. It brings paranoia & fear. We have plenty of that already, I don't need anyone to give me a list of odds of this or that happening to add fuel to that fire.

I feel a huge amount of guilt for Piccadilly because I opted to do those test during my pregnancy. I feel like what I signed really said, "Dear Piccadilly, I have no faith in you & if you die, too, I want to be as disconnected as possible because I'm selfish & can't deal with that ever again Hope you understand. If you're good though, I'll bond & give you acknowledgment. But until we get those results back, Piccadilly, consider yourself a guest."

Yeah, I'm being dramatic. I'll totally admit it. I feel like I'm punishing something the size of a pea just so I can make myself feel kinda better about this pregnancy. Since I wouldn't opt to do any of the actual diagnosis test, because they carry risk I'm not comfortable with, I would get the odds for this & that, then the next several months I'd walk around on egg shells. And even worse, I'd walk around waiting to find out my baby was dead. Even if it wasn't a fatal condition the odds were increased with, I'd just wait for it to happen. I worry I would basically write this baby off. Again, for totally selfish reasons.

Of course, I must not be totally selfish. If I were, I wouldn't feel bad about this.

I can't do this to myself. And I can't do it to Piccadilly. We don't want him/her to live in this dead baby shadow, I don't want to treat my kids differently because one of their siblings died. And considering Piccadilly isn't even the size of a pea yet (I should look that up, I doubt that's right) & I'm already treating him/her different.

So on the 2nd, at my next appointment, I'll let them know they can mark those test off of their to do list. Some people push for them to be done anyway, but I'm guessing with my "history" they will really want me to have them. I'm still taking a pass though. In about 232 days, we'll find out for sure when Piccadilly is born. Since 232 days is a long time anyway, no need to make it seem like longer with paranoia & fear.

It's not any kind of leap of faith, but the same faith I've always had...that things will be alright. I figure if anyone is owed a chance, it's Piccadilly, who beat conception odds anyway. His/her existence alone is enough to show that even when the odds are bad, good things happen.

Plus I hate needles anyway. What on earth was I thinking when I decided I'd be alright with extra lab test? Jeesh.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Dead Baby News.

As a foot in the door, I've created a blog for my network...West Virginia Pregnancy & Infant Loss Network, to be exact.

Hey, they called it that on the news, it's the official name now. No going back. Should have been shorter. Oh well, you live & you learn I suppose.

Anyway, I have created a blog site for it. I hope to start gathering info for people interested & storing it all there, including links & such. Anyway, here you go...

The West Virginia Pregnancy & Infant Loss Network.

I'm also going to start a project, because I'm crazy like that. So if you've had a pregnancy or infant loss, look for that announcement very soon. Gotta officially iron out the details so I can make sure it'll work before I decide to get anyone involved. Nothing that amazing, but just following in the footsteps of various memorials to loss children for this Christmas season.

Even though the network is labeled for West Virginia, any projects I start, including this first one, is for anyone anywhere who wants to be involved. Obviously some in like Europe can't join in on any in person activities we end up starting eventually, but hey if they really want to come on in. But this first idea I hope to do requires nothing of anyone, minus a request to have their child(ren) added.

...you'd think I'd just tell you, but it can't be that easy. Just don't build it up that much, you'll be disappointed.

That is all.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

OK, I gotta say it.

This has been bothering me for a while. I tried to think up a post to be able to include it in, but I can't. So I'm going to be lame & just dedicate an entire post to it.

As I've mentioned, I have this neato invisible tracker on my blog, telling me where I get hits from. It gives me keywords, a map, & ISP info. You can see the map at the left side of my page if you scroll down enough.

As I've mentioned before, I've been found by, uh, companies I discussed on my blog.

I'm getting almost constant hits from the company I talk about in the above link. Seriously, constant. From google, from bookmarks, from emailed links to others, from the news site I was on...actually, within like 5 minutes of be being on the news, I had several hits from that company.

So I'm just curious. Is someone or many people reading as...fans? Or to see if I'm talking mean about them anymore? Are people...pouting? I'm really curious & confused. But hey, that's my life.

Yeah, like I said, petty. I know it is. But I'm dying to know how I get so. many. hits.

So, friends, give me your guesses. Why do you think people from said company are checking so much? Extra points for giving a good, detailed story of what you imagine. What do they think? What do they say? Why do they just come back for more again & again?

I know I have lots of creative people out there (Liz, Neil, Adam, etc.), so I expect something amusing. Do it for me & do it for them.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Another story of my day blog...with unrelated pictures.

I wanted to share my Halloween decorations, but I wanted to share my story of stupidity & my doctors visit. So enjoy this, well, clutter fuck.

First I was reviewing my grad school paper I'd just gotten back in email to see the problems with it. I was sitting in the living room, Jules got up & went into the dining room & kitchen area, I called for him & he came right back. I continued to review. When I finally finished, I looked up & saw this...

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Baking powder. In just a moment, he got into my cabinet & got out a full container of baking powder & dumped it.

In case you're wondering how I didn't see him doing this until it was too late, my view of what exactly he had & what he was doing with it was obstructed...

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That's why babies like toys, so they can block your view from the evil they are doing.

He didn't get why mom kept saying "are you serious?" in that defeated tone she usually saves for daddy when talking about his family...

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He looked like he'd been trying to make wine out of powdered donuts...

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Too bad it wasn't baking soda, I would have pretended he was just trying to deodorize our rug.

Then I went to the doctor. A random doctor I didn't pick, just who I could get in to see. His nurse was nice, so that was a plus. I found out that consult I had in August, well, he was an idiot. Um, confused, he was confused. He put in my report that with Jules I was induced at 39 weeks due to pre-eclampsia. Totally not true. What's funny to me about that is that he spoke with Adam & I about how since with Jules & Joel I didn't start labor on my own even as close to 42 weeks like with Jules, we would want to induce any future babies around 39 weeks. But anyway, I had to explain that to the nurse. Then I had to explain it to the doctor. Of course I had a slightly high BP...like 130/88. I'm not sure what cuff she used, but as usual I was slightly freaked out.

The doctor wasn't concerned, but he did mention if I have constant slightly high readings, he'd refer me to the local hypertension office to have a test run to see if I was really having high readings or not. I was fine with this...until I remembered the doctor who misdiagnosised Joel runs said hypertension office. *sigh*

Please blood pressure, please, get normal.

And now that I'm worried, I'm sure that'll do WONDERS for my blood pressure.

Anyway, doctor was 30 minutes late. He had four appointments at 1, he was still over at the hospital until the nurse called him over to make him come. His med student, who looked like she was in 5th grade, beat him over. Then he spent like 5 minutes at my door, I assume reading my chart. I appreciate him reading my chart, but don't you hate when a doctor just stands at your door? You're just itching to get the show on the road, you're just staring at the shadow on the floor under the crack, waiting to hear any noise that signals they are about to enter your room.

They finally enter my room. He goes into my BP eventually, then he asked where I lived. I thought that was an odd question, but he then said "good, because you're going to be here alot." The plan is this...consider me high risk & deal with me with gentle hands basically. That's why he wants to go ahead & rule out any BP problems, though he doubts there is anything there. Ultrasound in 2 weeks. Another around 18 weeks. Then when I hit the 28 week mark every 2 weeks. At 35 weeks, every week. All ultrasounds in that last trimester are going to include biophysical profiles, which basically insures everything with baby is functioning as it should. I'm also going to have non-stress test every week in my 3rd trimester. So, by the time I hit 35 weeks in the beginning of the week I'll have an ultrasound & biophysical profile, then at the end of the week I'll go back for a non-stress test. At 39 weeks, induction will happen. But he says if there are any worries as soon as I hit 35 weeks, depending on the issue, they will deliver then.

Basically, this doctor wants to make sure I bring this baby home. I'm all for that.

So in two weeks we go get an ultrasound. Here, I have proof:

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That is my ultrasound order. I have carefully placed the ninja turtle magnet in the center to cover the reason for the ultrasound..."viability." Ugh. Have I told you how much I hate that word?

Of course, what's funny to me is that the order tells me that if I don't bring it with me, my appointment will be canceled & I'll have to come back in another time. Not only is it the same office, in fact the ultrasound peoples office is right across the hall from the check out desk, but the woman who makes my appointments also writes my order for the ultrasound. So, she's basically reschedule my appointment & re-write the order herself. I find that somewhat amusing, but whatever.

But as far as my doctor, seemed decent enough. I didn't hate him or get annoyed by him, so that's a plus.

After my doctors visit, I went to Sam's Club. I wished I had my camera, because they had one of those "taste testing" booths set up, warning you to be careful of the hot samples. The product they were sampling? Kitty litter. Fresh Step, to be exact. I didn't stick around to see what that test involved.

After I collected my cat food, I stopped by & got a bag of apples. I have this plan to make a pie much like my dear friend Vicki did. I then went to the counter to pay. The woman working the register had just finished checking out a family who drove 3 hours to spent $600. But me with my apples, that bothered her. Alot. First, she didn't understand why I was buying cat food & apples, she found that odd. I finally said, "Well, the apples are for us...I'm going to make a pie."

"A PIE?!"

...I wondered what I had said, but bravely I said, "Yeah, a pie."

"You can't make a PIE out of these apples! They are RED! You can only make pies out of green apples!"

*blink blink* <-That was all I could do.

She went on for a few minutes about how it wasn't a good idea. I finally tell her I'm using a recpie of my friends & that it "looked good" which she didn't like either. She blurted out, "Oh, but you didn't taste it! You can't make a pie with red apples, it won't work." I finally say, "Well, I guess we'll see how it works out when I make it." She then looked at me odd & asked, "So you still want them?"

...

Yes, I want my apples. I finally got my apples & decided to go over to the deli area to get a pretzel. My pregnant ass loves pretzels. I also decided a root beer float would be awesome. They use to have them, I ask the girl, & she tells me they just did away with them on the menu. So I asked, "Well, is there someway we can create one so I can make it myself?" I mean, all they use to do was put some ice cream in a drink cup & hand it to you so you could go to the fountain machine. She looked at me like I had a penis growing out of my forehead & said, "Well, I'll have to charge you for an ice cream cup AND a soda!" I was fine with that, it's Sam's, that still just like $1.25. That along with my pretzel was less than $3.

She hands me my drink cup & walks off. I stand there & when she comes back over she goes to the ice cream machine & gets an ice cream cup out. I ask her if she can just put the ice cream in my drink cup. She then tells me no, I paid for two separate things so she has to put them in two separate containers. I then nicely throw out there that it just seems like a waste of containers since as soon as I get it I'm going to put it in my drink cup. Her reaction?

"You can't do that!"

...*blink blink*

She went on to explain to me that since they don't offer it like that anymore, if I did it in front of other customers they may "get confused" that they could have that for one price, so I'd need to wait until I was out of the store to mix my ice cream in my drink.

So you've heard it here first...I'm an evil genius who almost teased people with my tasty ice cream & root beer concoction.

Sam's Club...something was in the air there today. Maybe people had sampled too much kitty litter.

After I got home, I prepared my latest angry letter.

Later tonight we finally put our pumpkins out front. Our yard has been decorated for a few days, but the giant pumpkins I got at Sam's the last time I went there had been out back. I dug to the bottom of ever box to get the biggest pumpkins I could. I figured for $8 each, I should my moneys worth. First I was just looking for perfect ones, but then I decided that sized mattered much more. Insert your own joke in there.

So here I share with you pictures of my lame decorations. Enjoy.

First, everyone in my house gets a pumpkin. Well, every human. I can't afford a pumpkin for everything living my house. Anyway, here is Picadilly's pumpkin...

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Jules helped put them out...
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Then this picture happened...
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I'm not sure what is going on, but that's my dogs butt.

Here is his head, if you're curious...

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bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark...

Here is my house from the street...
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Stalk me.

And from the side...
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Because nothing is more scary than mums.

Oh, wait, yes there is...
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Garden. Gnomes.

Calm down, it's just a picture, they can't hurt you.

I'm not sure why I'm proud of some caution tape.

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But I am proud of...

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My natural predator owl.

We bought that last summer, when the birds were eating our dogs food & driving him nuts. Well, it didn't work. It really just gave them something to land on before getting into his food dish. So now we just put it out for Halloween, which is fine with me because really, how would you feel having that thing on your front porch all summer? Shame, I felt shame.

Even my decorative bunny is ready for Halloween...

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He's a caution ninja. It's an original costume idea, don't hate.

My annoying inflatable is out, of course...

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Oh yeah...

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HI MACY!!!

Here is my son, dancing in the graveyard...

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But he doesn't just dance, he destorys...

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He's obviously gifted, angering the evil spirits at such a young age.

The he & Adam ran away...

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Leaving me to deal with the angry spirits myself.

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Of course, in this case, the angry spirits are...

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as scary as my caution ninja bunny.

Yeah, the scarecrows are my idea of humor. I know, I know...

I can't wait until Christmas...8 foot tall Frosty, here we come! Maybe I'll pose the scarecrows poking around Frosty. You never know the kooky things I come up with. You know, like ice cream & soda mixed together.

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