Pink Prickly Pear

Crafty.

Mini-pear's got a cold and her brother has now lodged his head so far down in my pelvis that I really prefer staying home.  It was time for a crafty project.

Tissue paper, old applesauce jars, flour and water.

Add votive candles for a happy glow.  I think we've stumbled on this year's homemade gifties. 

3 friends

Paxton is an equal opportunity kisser.

Any day now...

Baby Pear is hanging L-O-W (click here for a comparison photo) and, yes, I have pretty much given up on pants.  This evening it feels suspiciously like he's attempting to dig his way out.  I know.  That does sound awful.  Let's just call it a very intrusive tickle.

BP!  The original French tickler!

Okay!  Loopy this evening!

For a little bit there, I was feeling a bit finished with this whole pregnancy thing.  Not so much impatient, but sort of uncomfortable and large and shuffling.  I'm at the point where I require a daily nap, because I'm up half the night trying to ignore my all-gone-by-dawn contractions, but I feel pretty good - a little more energy, enough to make sure I get some good one on one time with mini-pear;)

I see Dr. Wonderful tomorrow*.  Saw my doula on Tuesday.  Mr. Pear is always available for light touch massage and sphincter jokes.  We have assembled SuperBirthingTeam2008. 

^{* If you so desire, you can see him too.  He makes a wee cameo appearance in Dave Stewart's American Prayer video.  He's the guy towards the end bouncing the baby.}

PPP:  Do feel like eating dinner yet?

Mini-Pear:  I can't talk right now, I'm with a client.

PPP: Oh.

I love olive oil.

Did she really? 

Nine times out of ten, I think Mini-Pear's stock response to "Why?" is "Why not?"

She disappeared into her bedroom this evening, "Don't come in!!!!"  A few minutes later she walked out into the living room, "Now I really look like Daddy!"  They'd been goofing around, pulling funny faces, and I'd remarked on how alike they looked.

Usually, I take her wacky antics in stride, but this?  This looked suspiciously like the work of a Sharpie marker.  She still has the remains of her Sharpie marker "tramp stamp" from last weekend's sleepover, despite numerous visits to the pool, the beach and the shower since then. 

"Why did you do that to your face?" I wailed.
"What?  Me and A. always draw on ourselves with Sharpies!"
"Yeah, but not on your face!"

I retired to the patio with my magazine, muttering something about 8 year olds knowing better.  Mr. Pear was in the shower and I heard her scamper in there as the water stopped.  From the open window, usually doting dad's first response was, "Oh, no!"

She was sent to the bathroom with instructions to scrub.  I went to check on her progress a few minutes later.  The white washcloth was streaked with black, but her face didn't look any different.  Suddenly I remembered hearing something about using olive oil to clean meconium off your newborn's bum.  Maybe...

Magic!  Olive oil just wiped it all away.  I gently wiped and it disappeared!  File that one away in your super-mama files.

She's got a gold tooth. You know she's hardcore.

Last night I was deep into my lengthy dental hygiene routine when I suddenly felt a big chunk of something in my mouth.

What the heck?!?!?

I spit and the something made a big clinking noise in the sink.  Just before it almost disappeared down the drain, I realized the something was none other than my crown! 

Kind of nasty.  Luckily my one and only crown sits fairly far back in my mouth, so I didn't have to go around all pirate-style with my big stump. Still, I kept smiles and things to a minimum this morning.  Oh gawd, I hope I did.  Mini-pear had her last Junior Ranger session at the state park, I hope Ranger Diane didn't get an eyeful of gah!

I called my dentist first thing this morning, but he doesn't work Fridays.  It seems no one in Southern California (except Dr. Wonderful who is on call 24/7) works a full week.  Which creates the lovely laid back atmosphere we love, but can also be a bit frustrating when you want to actually get something done*. 

There are other dentists at the office, and I could have come in this afternoon, but after I talked to one of the assistants, she recommended getting some dental cement from the drugstore and not coming in until Monday.  Everything looked and felt fine and fit together like a handy little periodontal jigsaw puzzle, so I suppose I can wait.

^{* Like yesterday, when I wanted to get my iron levels checked at the lab, but both times I stopped by, they turned me away because I was about to intrude on their lunch hour (despite arriving half an hour before hand) and their afternoon escape (I arrived at 4:15, assuming they closed at 5, but no, they hit the beach at 4:30).  Actually I'm quite annoyed they felt no shame in turning my gigantic waddling self away, not once, but twice.}

Most mornings, mini-pear sees her dad off on his ride to work. I wave them off like not-a-care-in-the-world-mommy and then crane my neck anxiously until I hear her scooting back around the corner. 

Letting go and giving her more freedom is so hard!

She is growing up though...

Last night we went to a local taco place for dinner.  She had brought along her sketchbook and a couple of little tiny horses.  After dinner, we were just chatting and she started drawing a little landscape for the horses - stables, pathways through little gardens, a skatepark(?).  We each got a horse and trotted them from the stables to the skatepark.  At some point, she lost interest a bit and Mr. Pear (with his dirty mind) mounted my horse with his horse. 

Of course, now she noticed, "Hey, what are you doing?  We're supposed to be skating!"
I attempted a recovery, "I think ours wanted to wrestle..." and realised we were talking at the same time...
"No mating!  They're all mares!" she scolded her dad.
I still thought I could keep it G-rated, "Nah, I think dad's horse just wanted to wrestle..."
She gave me this woman-do-you-really-think-I'm-that-stupid look and Mr. Pear shrugged, "I didn't know they were all mares..."

I think I attempted a kick under the table at that point.  He looked defeated, "She caught me red-handed..."
"I think it's the end of that game..."

***

I had to post that photo to make everyone outside coastal SoCal jealous.  Mild mornings, my friends!  The skies are grey due to the marine layer, my girl is wearing jeans and a little merino cardigan.  In an hour the sun will burn off the cloud cover and we'll have bathing suit weather;)  I remember waking up in DC drenched in sweat.  I'd take a cool shower and within minutes of getting dressed, I'd be all sweaty again.  Don't miss August on the east coast.  Not a bit.

As of September 1, we will have two less people to make jealous.  Mr. Pear's brother and his wife are moving here!  We both left DC at around the same time - us to vacationland, them to chillier (but decidedly less vehemently anti-intellectual) Boston.  Half-way through their first winter they realized that when people had told them just how cold it could get up there, they weren't kidding!  So they both scored jobs down here and will be joining us just in time for flip-flop and fleece weather;)   Free babysitters!  I'm so glad mini-pear will get to spend more quality time with her aunt and uncle.

Our freezer has a decidedly "bachelor pad" feel to it, doesn't it?  Now that the refridgerator is actually functioning again, I suppose I can't get out of hitting the grocery store this morning. 

Not sure how I feel about that one...

These days I wake up energetic and ready to attack my to-do list , but by the time I've puttered around the house a bit, I feel like I've run a marathon and am ready for a power nap.

Answering ones email, making smoothies and doing a load of laundry should not put one over the edge.

This morning I made a point of actually telling baby pear that he had my permission to come on out now, just in case he was waiting for an invitation.

Easy like Sunday mornin'...(and a rant about the sorry state of affairs in the Border's children's department)

I've been married to my father-in-law's son for over nine years now, and yet he still thinks it's perfectly fine to call me at 8 o'clock in the morning!

Granted, we have a child, and people with children are frequently up earlier than they'd like, but still, on the weekend, she often lets us sleep in.  Or one of us takes one for the team and lets the other one sleep in.

Mini-pear is sleeping over at her friend's house.  We both could have slept in!  But instead the phone, which was right next to my ear - where it should be when my baby is away for the night - started ringing away merrily.  For some reason, the dog decided to join this joyful chorus by retching violently in the kitchen. Mr. Pear got up and mopped up the vomit.  I listened to my voice mail (of course I didn't actually answer it!), just in case it was an emergency phone call (because really, that's the only reason I want my phone to ring before 9 a.m.).  Somehow Mr. Pear was able to flop back asleep and me?  Well, here I am with my tea wondering what I should have for breakfast.

Should I fill you in on all the hot details of date night?

We took a nap.  Went to Jimbo's to buy laundry soap specifically for cloth diapers.  Stopped at the new Apple Store to check out Mr. Pear's application on the iPhone.  That was really cool!  He wrote that!  And it's right there on the screen!  Apple!  Huge!  Then we stopped at Borders (I've yet to find an indie bookstore with a children's section in defiantly anti-intellectual San Diego county) to refill the summer book fairy's stocks.  Border's books has the most asinine method of organizing children's books I've ever seen.  One would think that fiction for independent readers would be organized in much the same way adult's fiction is shelved.  Wrong!  Instead, there is a section for "Animal Stories" and a section for "School/Friendships", etc.  For someone who went in with the idea of looking - oh, I don't know- say, by the author's last name, it was baffling!

Eventually this employee who soon revealed herself to be completely useless asked if I was finding everything okay.

PPP: No, actually, I'm not.

Useless Employee with No Knowlege of Children's Books: Oh, something in particular I can help you look for?

PPP: Well, I could probably find it myself if the books were shelved properly...

UEWKCB *smiles benevolently*: Well, it is the children's department...

PPP: Meaning?

UEWKCB:  Sometimes the children will pull things off the shelves and not put them back in the right places.

PPP:  No, I'm curious as to why they aren't shelved alphabetically.  If I'm looking for books by a particular author, but don't know the subject matter of each and every book she's written, I'm going to have to look in all these separate sections...

UEWKCB *ignores my logic*: Well, it is back to school time, so we are running low on a lot of things...Shall we look them up in the computer?

So I tell her we can start by looking for anything by E. Nesbit and Edward Eager.  She needs me to spell both their names, and while on one hand, I can appreciate her wanting to get it right, I am mostly really disappointed that she's obviously never heard of them.   If I were in a real bookshop, with a proprieter as opposed to an employee, with someone who actually cared about children's books, I imagine they might screw up their little face with glee and breathily declare how much they enjoyed E. Nesbit's books.  Perhaps they'd even say, "If your reader likes those, she should try something by ________", but, no, this lady is just an employee at a big, box bookstore and doesn't know jack about kid's lit.  So disappointing.

At any rate, they don't carry anything by E. Nesbit.  Really?  Really?  I craned my neck looking at the screen - not just out of stock, but you don't carry them???  And we went and looked under "Independent Readers/Science Fiction" for the 2 individual copies of Edward Eager's books they had in stock.  One, we already owned.  The other I found "mis-shelved" among the E's in "Independent Readers/General".

UEWKCB:  See, the kid's are always putting them back in the wrong place.

PPP:  No, I'm pretty sure that that's where I'd shelve him - with the other E's...

And she had the nerve to give me a pitying look!

/rant over.

We came home, made smoothies and watched American Gangster.  2 hours and 45 minutes!  Long!  A midnight dog walk, and I was more than ready for bed.

My day sucks. How 'bout yours?

8 a.m. Roll over.  Realize I took the last daytime Alka Selzer Plus packet yesterday.  Also realize that using up said meds, putting on a smiley face and not canceling our play date at the pool yesterday probably fell under the category of Too Much, Too Soon/Overdoing It and has a lot more to do with my grogginess this morning than I'd care to admit.

8:30 a.m.  Someone is cutting their nails in the bathroom and it is so loud.  [Cue Bitchmother stage left].

8:45 a.m. Refridgerator repair company (hereafter referred to as RRC) calls to say they will be here between 1 and 3.  Yes, our fridge is broken.  Yes, it's a total pain.  Yes, now's the time to stock the freezer with easily reheatable meals for after the baby is born.

9 a.m.  Tea magically appears at my bedside and I'm sufficiently awake to call our landlord to let him know when the RRC is coming.

9:30 a.m. Wobble into the living room to email my doula.  Must cancel afternoon appointment with her.  Our house must be crawling with germs and she does a lot of post-partum night time work with tiny little newborns who do not want this nasty cold.

9:45 a.m. RRC calls to say they could come now instead of later.  I call landlord.  He's moved his schedule around and can't come now.

9:47 a.m
I call RRC.  We'd like to keep our original appointment. 
Dispatcher tells me that all six calls scheduled prior to ours have cancelled, so their guy would like to come now so he can have the rest of the day off. 
I commiserate, but it's not my problem.  1 to 3 is what works, so let's just stick with that.
I'm told 1 to 3 is no longer an option.  He could come on Tuesday.
I patiently explain that I am very pregnant and need someone to look at the fridge before Tuesday.
I'm told that as I'm the one refusing a newer, earlier appointment time, I'm just going to have to be a little more patient.
I ask to speak to a supervisor.
Supervisor adds a layer of untruth.  Our repairman is having a family emergency and has to go home early, so this is why they need to reschedule.
I count to ten.  Actually, I've already been informed that he'd rather take the whole day off than wait until 1 pm, so why invent some "family emergency" excuse.  BTW, here's my family's emergency:  I'm very, very pregnant and I NEED A WORKING FRIDGE!

By 10 a.m the supervisor at RRC, hereafter referred to as BOMFC (Bunch of Mother Effin' Clowns), has by now tried to bamboozle me with all sorts of untruths, culminating with an offer to diagnose the fridge over the telephone and so will order the parts for me and thus make "everybody happy".  She also tells me I'll only owe $95 service/diagnostic fee as the repair is covered by the manufacturer's warranty.  I explain that our honest friendly neighborhood appliance repairman already told me that we will not owe any service or diagnostic fee (because our particular problem is covered by the manufacturer's warranty) and to be very wary of any company that implies I need to do so.
Much waffling on her end.  Lots of over-explained untruths and attempts at general bamboozlement.

As I pace my kitchen, I suddenly remember that this is not my fridge.  I wash my hands of whole situation with BOMFC, give them my landlord's number and instruct them to call him and work something out.

10:15 a.m. Ask mini-pear to get dressed so we can go acquire more Alka Selzer Plus.

10:30 a.m. Ask if she's dressed yet, or just trying on different outfits.
She's trying on different outfits.
I use a bad word or two.  Pull the "Mommy's head is literally going to explode if she doesn't get any medicine" card.

10:31 a.m. She's dressed and in the car.

10:38 a.m.  We walk into the drugstore.  An employee with a huge bandage wrapped around his nose asks if he can "hep ooo".
Try to keep all inappropriate laughter muscles under control while asking where they keep the nasal decongestants.

10:40 a.m.  We're walking out of the store.  Mini-pear asks how the cashier knew I was pregnant.
"You're kidding, right?"
"No, how'd she know?  Because you don't really look pregnant, just kind of chubby..."
That kid is lucky I love her to pieces.

10:41 a.m. I plonk 2 disks into the plastic cup I've brought along expressly for the purpose of taking medicine a.s.a.p.  Reason that by the time we reach the grocery store, I'll feel well enough to get in a couple of things for us to eat (because, as you know, we have no fridge! and hence, need to shop for just a couple of items per day - which really works when you've been sick...for days).

I have no idea what time we got to the shop.  Medicine not working yet.  I haphazardly throw chard, sweet potatos, grapes and an english cucumber in our cart.  I know better, but I also grab some just add water soup bowls and some of those yogurt/green onion potato chips.

11:15 a.m. I call my landlord.  BOMFC have not called him yet.  I give him all pertinent phone, model and serial numbers and tell him I'll just leave all this unpleasantness in his capable hands.

And now?  Now it's 11:50 a.m. and I'm just going to go and lay somewhere like a lump.

Hold my calls.

I haz godda cold...

...and it really doesn't seem fair. 

It quickly morphed from, "Huh, my throat's a bit scratchy..." to "Why woan my nose stob runnin'?" to "Holy fuck, I know exactly what this pain in my teeth means!"  Do you know what pain in one's upper teeth means?  No?  Well, aren't you lucky never to have experienced sinus pain so severe you've contemplated banging your head repeatedly against a brick wall in the hopes of cancelling the sinus pain out somehow...

Last night, after spending the greater part of the day either thrashing about on the bed in a sweat, or in the bath with as-hot-as-I-can-bear washcloths on my face, I finally remembered that last summer I discovered a cold medicine that not only alleviates my symptoms, but does not supplement my discomfort with paranoia and freakish auditory hallucinations.  Oh.  Duh.  I dissolved two disks in 4 ounces of water, took myself to bed and woke up in the middle of the night with a remarkably clear head.  Mr. Pear, on the other hand, was clearly having a bad night.  He'd turned off the window fan, and was trying to tuck us in under not one, but two extra blankets.

This morning I was...89% better and the sinus pain is gone.  Ahhh.

Mini-pear, as per usual, was completely unaffected by our plague and thus spent the day bored out of her little mind.  Actually, she was a little less bored than she might have been, because the book fairy's been extremely active this summer.  The summer book fairy is my best friend!  Every time Mini-pear finishes one, another one just magically appears!  And then roly-poly pregnant mommies get a couple of hours to...hmmm, what have I been doing?  Drinking water and running to the toilet mostly.

Oh, I've also been knitting a little bit, but actually it's been hard to find a good position to sit and knit in for any extended period of time, so this project (and baby pear's quilt and various other projects I'd assumed I'd finish before he arrived) are a bit slow going.  I suppose I could sit on my big exercise ball and knit, but something about that screams dork to me.