Ruby Red Cheeks!

Those cheeks are rosy since the little one's been teething. I thought for sure he had Fifth's disease, but intensive internet searches do have their benefits!

Dinner and Drinks with A & I

I treated myself to a cut and style with Rodeo today since I've been feeling so stressed out. He really brightened my day with his outrageous observations and hilarious jokes. All I needed was a reflexology foot massage by Ewbliette!

On the way home, I dropped by the store to pick  up goodies to bring over to the housewarming party A & I would have tonight. I felt very pretty.

"A" was the best man at our wedding a zillion years ago and "I" is his Russian girlfriend of six years. They moved to an upscale apartment complex at the end of last month and have been lavishing attention on their new home by way of new furniture and linens.

Their place was tastefully decorated in a sleek, modern style. Although "I" would cringe at my description, it looked very Ikea to me (she considers Ikea to be "too middle class"). I like their style very much, and I'm not ashamed to be an Ikea patron. Heck, if it looks cool, I'll buy it at Target, K-Mart or Walmart.  I save my money for books!

Anyway...I loved their apartment and classy furniture. "I" fixed us a simple but delicious meal and served it on elegant tableware. We relaxed with drinks afterward, while "A" showed us a scrapbook he had made to celebrate the years he and "I" have had together. I was truly impressed with the effort he put into the project. I was initially under the impression that all of the intricate cut-outs and decals were made on his computer and hand etched by him until he explained that he bought them at Hobby Lobby. On the way home that night, Tennisfiend observed that if they had a child, they would have little time for such pursuits. We laughed the way many parents before us have laughed at those without children (or dogs!).

Six Months Shots

I took Tyoma to the doctor's today for his six moth shots. He received four shots today plus his rotavirus dose. And he screamed! Lord, you would have thought they chopped off his little legs! Anyway, he was so upset he barfed up his rotavirus, but it still counted as a dose. Yeee.

Vet Appointment

I took Misty to the vet today for her three years rabies vaccine and usual check up. I left home extra early to find their new location only to arrive fifteen minutes early to a huge and overcrowded waiting room.

For some reason, Misty's appointment had been scheduled on Tiny Dog Tuesday. Misty looked longingly at rabbit-sized chihuahuas and tender, fluffy Pekingese. Although she behaved admirably, in her doggy heart she would have gleefully savaged the other canine patrons.  Anyway, Misty is swell and showed the world her vigor by boldly pissing on their floor (I was shocked!!!).

We Broke the Bed!

It is not what you think! Exhausted, Tennisfiend dramatically flopped down heavily on my bed in the nursery. This melodramatic gesture was accompanied by a loud THUNK, which was the back of Ewbliette's bed breaking. We stuffed some wood blocks under it for support and although it creaks, it's functional. I'm thinking of putting it on the floor tomorrow.

Squirmy De Wormer!

When Tanya was here she always wanted to bathe Tyoma. She said it would soothe Tyoma and help him fall asleep. I dunno. The whole water thing seems to freak him out. I dislike Tanya's pushiness, but I let her bathe him. Why not?

Anyway, I got it into my mind to bathe the litte guy today. He looked so alarmed by the whole process that I sang to him "Squirmy-de wormer, squirmidy-poo" to the tune of Jesus Christ Superstar's "This Jesus Must Die." Odd song to pick, considering the subject, but E's been singing it around the house.

Anyway, I will wait till the little guy gets really smelly before another bath. I keep him very clean but the bath and hair washing looks too difficult for his tiny mind.

Fontessa Returns to Moscow

Whew! Despite all her help, this whole visit was strangely draining. Now I can get back to raising my son without feeling that the Secret Police are watching me.

Exploding Microwave!

Fontessa was quietly eating her usual meal of a half a bagel and some cream cheese when the microwave exploded. As I puttered in the library , my pasta was warming in our built-in microwave.  I heard a loud "pop," but thought nothing of it since micro-explosions are a part of microwaving.

Anyway, when I caught the scent of  burning electronics, I dashed into the kitchen. Fontessa followed me with her eyes while continuing to eat calmly as thick black smoke poured from the microwave, polluting the kitchen. Alarmed , I debated what to do, not wanting to ignite or electrocute myself. The circuit breaker snapped as I whisked the fire extinguisher into position. The smoke stopped instantaneously. I popped open the door and retrieved my pasta (which was in pretty good shape!) and inspected the kichen thoroughly.

After all this excitement, Fontessa calmly asked me what had happened, feigning concern when I frantically related my panic. Later, whenTF came home from the gym, he explained to her what I was not able to relate. Fontessa was shocked. I had wondered if smoke filled kitchens were so commonplace in Moscow as to be mundane. However,  she related that she  thought that I had simply burned my pasta. Heh. Lotta smoke fer some pasta!

Old Mesilla

Went to old Mesilla today with Fontessa to pick up goodies for her friends in Moscow. I found some cool stuff for Cthulumas presents plus more non-denominational holiday cards that I will never send out to add to my collection. Oddly enough, at one of those tacky touristy places that host rows of personalized license plates and coffee mugs, I discovered some little doggie footprint sticker with the name "Misty" on them. I reckon that they will find a comfortable spot right next to my unused holiday cards.

Hip-hip Hooray!

Today was my final appointment with Dr. Rubble. Only a few minutes passed in a waiting room inexplicably full of rambunctious children before his nurse ushered me to an exam room. Out of the blue, she told me that she thought I resembled a Hollywood actress, but she couldn’t recall which one. I secretly hoped she wasn’t thinking of Melanie Griffith.

I scribbled in my journal until Dr. Rubble entered and I popped open my blouse for the moment of truth. Ahem. I am pleased to announce that my incision scar has healed and that I will not need any “revisions” (cosmetic procedures)! Yay! I’m tossing out the q-tip box in celebration.

Dr. Rubble chatted amiably with me (perhaps he’ll even visit my blog!), gave me a topical prescription to “mature” my scar, dictated relevant notes into his recorder and warmly shook hands with me. I think it’s hard for a doctor to balance being both professional and personable. Dr. Rubble has it down pat. What a swell guy.

Afterward, I raced home since I forgot the family paycheck and my shopping list. I left an hour later since I couldn’t resist chatting with Momfiend and playing with Babyfiend. I dropped off a toasted Philly cheese steak for my poor starving father and met Tennisfiend at Big Pushy Bastard Tire Center to have a flat fixed. TF treated me to a surprisingly delicious oven-fired (translate: charred black on the bottom) pizza with a Black Forest cheesecake chaser. I continued errands until my bosom was ready to burst (I’m still breastfeeding.)

After taking care of “Mommy Business” I handed Tyoma over to his Russian Grandma and gobbled a snack while watching last night’s Metalocalypse. I just love that show! Right now TF is grilling shashlik while I enjoy a half a glass of red wine. What a great day!

Back to Normal

Today is the first day that I’ve felt normal in about two months. Since I’m a goof who didn’t manage her privacy settings properly, here’s a summary of what’s been going on:

1. We had our baby boy August 21. Here’s a picture as proof:



2. For the next several weeks I struggled with mastitis and thrush, thrush, thrush.*
3. Tennisfiend’s Mom came to visit us from Russia.
4. I went in for surgery for an abscess on my left breast that developed over a weekend.
5. I have overcome a good deal of squeamishness.


* Thrush is a yeast infection of the breast that nursing moms often get after a course of antibiotics.

Happy Birthday Patricia

Ewbliette you are the epitome a best friend! I couldn't have made it through my pregnancy without you!

Top Ten Reasons Why You Are The Best Friend Ever:

1. You’re super generous. You pick up the neatest little gifts, “just because.” Funky souvenirs, cool rocks, comfy t-shirts, yummy candy, trashy mags, squooshy pillows—you’re the best!
2. You’re always reliable. Whether I needed you to stop by the store to buy my hubby bananas or to take my early morning “I think I’m having my baby!” phone calls, you were always available.
3. You’ve got the sturdiest vocal cords. Thousands of years from now, aliens in distant galaxies will be receiving soundwaves of you (loudly!) coaching me: “One, two, three, PUSH! Four, five, six, PUSH! Seven, eight, nine, PUSH! Ten. Cleansing breath…”
4. You give the best pedicures. When my belly was too big for me to bend over and paint my toenails, you rescued me with your first class fancy pedicures and reflexology sessions.
5. You’re quick thinking. When I almost collapsed at the hospital with shooting leg pains, you whisked that computer chair under my butt in an instant. The ride to the bathroom was fun, too…
6. You’re tough as nails. I’ve sent a number of frantic and panicked phone calls your way—you handled each and every one of them with aplomb, including the “My feet are fantastically swollen, I must be dying!” incident that took you away from your work duties.
7. You’re super thoughtful. I remember you calling me make sure I was okay before you treated yourself to a beer. I also thought it was really kind of you to drive me around aimlessly in your air conditioned car during the hottest days of summer.
8. You are an awesome note-taker. Kudos to you for the copious notes you took during our childbirth classes and doctor’s appointments. You saved my sanity when all I heard was the bad stuff!
9. You’re hilarious! Two words: “camel toenails.”
10. You’re a good listener. Thank you for putting up with my manias and endless ramblings, whether or not I’m pregnant. You always take the time to hear me out and offer sensitive support or a much needed reality check.

Have A Happy Birthday!

Thanksgiving

Mom's Turkey

This year Tennisfiend and I hosted Thanksgiving, despite my minimal participation. Momfiend did the hardest work, roasting a delicious free-range turkey with all the trimmings to perfection.  Fontessa made fassol (Russian green beans) and yams, while Tennisfiend whipped up mashed potatoes. I supervised the baking of pies, set the table, poured (and drank!) the wine. Happy to be with the family on a food oriented holiday, Misty feasted on mashed potatoes and turkey.

We all had a wonderful time, despite the language barrier.  Dad reads and writes Russian quite well, but is sometimes flummoxed in rapid conversations. On the other hand, I can barely read Russian and my grammar is marginal, yet I yammer endlessly and somehow manage to make myself understood. My mom, apparently, can read minds, so she doesn't need a translator at all.

Bangs!

Being a new mother put me in the mood for a new hairstyle, but I didn’t want to inadvertently convert myself into a soccer mom. So, I went to my stylist Rodeyo and suggested a slightly different hairstyle. He said “Lets do BANGS!” I gasped and almost fell out of his cushy salon chair. What was I to do?!

To help you understand my dilemma, the chronicle of my struggle with bangs follows:

4 ½ years old: I decide I want bangs. I chop off the hair above my forehead, continuing several inches backward to a length of ½ inch, giving myself a spectacularly unlovely reverse-Mohawk.

10 years old: The pretty new girl at school has bangs. I tell my mom I want bangs too. She says bangs are for little girls. I’m too big for bangs. I give my self an unattractive but salvageable hair cut that evening.

15 years old:  The night before a trip to Disneyland with my bff, Jean, we color each other’s hair and give each other bangs. My hair color and bangs look fabulous; Jean is rushed to her mother’s stylist at 8:00 p.m. for emergency reconstruction.

High School : I wear bangs and bleach my hair white throughout high school. In college I decide that bangs are unflattering and give them up entirely (I still bleach the crap out of my hair).

The Melanie Griffith Incident:  Several years ago, I go for a shoulder length cut with bangs. TF spends the next two months pointing out bang-less hairstyles on TV and in magazines, casually mentioning how becoming they would be on me. The real killer is an assessment from my bff, Susan. She tells me that my new hair makes me seem “mature” adding, “You look just like Melanie Griffith.” AAUUUGGGHHH! Needless to say, I swore off bangs for good—until today!

Another Week of Sleep

 I spent the week battling with a mild but draining case of the stomach flu. Sometimes I wonder if the usual contagins we pass around don't have an emotional component. I have not been myself. I've felt depressed, irritable and inexplicably stir crazy.

My weekly highlight was a brief shopping trip to the organic food market with Tennisfiend. Despite my love for exotic snack food and unlovely but healthy vegetables, I still felt bummed. Bleagh.

I Might Need Cosmetic Surgery

Went back to see Dr. Rubble, who informed me that my infection had cleared, but that my inscision needs to remain open to heal and prevent re-infection. He also reminded me to q-tip my wound, but shot me a look that suggested that  he knew I'd avoid q-tipping at all costs.

He discussed the possibility of me having an  unlovely scar on my left breast that might need revision (aka a cosmetic procedure), but that we'd worry about that after I have healed. Yep. I will definitely need it. I feel rather depressed and self conscious over the whole thing. Not that a nude photo shoot or Girls Gone Wild appearence is on my to-do list. But man, I don't want to look like a Fangoria centerfold either....

Sleep Week

I spent most of this week either asleep, attached to the breast pump, or reluctantly making my shower quota. I’ve barely q-tipped my wound, I’m just too much of a squeamish pussy in too much pain. It’s unbelievable how tired I’ve been. Initially, I thought the pain meds I was prescribed were wiping me out, but I quit taking them during the day (using ibuprofen instead) and I’m still exhausted! Whew, who knew growing a few square inches of new tissue could be so tiring?!

Thanks to both grandmas for helping care for Tyoma, it would have been crazy hard without them. Well, back to sleep!

Dognapped!

We Have your Dog

If you xpect to see her again in good health

and with only a few bad habits, wire 5 million

Rasbuckniks (84.50 American Dollars) to

'RC2007  account 69, Bank of Nigeria'

You have till Midnight tonight, otherwise !!!

The Dirty Hand

My folks have had Misty on and off for almost two months while I have been recovering from Artyom's birth. She's back at their place again while I recuperate from my recent surgery. Anyway, this email greeted my grumpy, pain-bedeviled self this morning and really cracked me up. Heh.

The Waiting Room

Much gratitude to Momfiend for springing into action at a moment’s notice to help my disabled self! She has baby-sat, given me rides, stopped by the store, picked up prescriptions and cooked meals for us. Whew!  Today she did double baby-sitting duty at 2 am for Tyoma and at 10 am for me at the doctor’s office. In anticipation of another painful procedure, I took a full dose of pain meds leaving me feeling groggy. I really needed her to drive and take notes on Dr. Rubble’s latest treatment plan.

We were lucky enough to snap up the last two unoccupied seats in a waiting room packed full of miserable looking couples. A half hour into our wait, we encountered one of Tennisfiend’s senior colleagues, Dr. Voran, who we knew to be a cancer survivor. Walking hunched with a cane, he looked disturbingly bloated. His eyes were yellowish and bulged unhealthily; one was cocked permanently to the far left. I tried not to appear shocked by his condition, but I am a lousy actress. Nevertheless, he chatted amiably with a smooth graciousness that only Christopher Walken should be able to pull off. I admired his affable attitude made a mental note to send him a card.

After another ten minutes passed, our neighbor Mr. D entered with his wife.  She looked very unwell and in considerable pain. Although the couple recognized me, they immediately avoided eye contact. I took the hint and remained silent, but I felt bad for them, both for being there and for feeling the need to avoid me. Mom and I continued to chat and make jokes, being occasionally joined by Mr. Voran and his wife. Some of the other patrons smiled at our hilarity. I wondered how many people we annoyed. When they finally called Mr. Voran, he made a point to come over to shake hands with us before he left. What a cool guy.

When it was my turn, Dr. Rubble gave me a thourough inspection and answered my neurotic questions (yes you can take Ibuprofen, any type of Q-tip, of course your antibiotic and pain meds are compatible with breastfeeding, etc). He pronounced me well, reminded me to shower and q-tip clean and said he’d see me next Friday. On the way out I gave the lone Mr. D a sympathetic smile, which he grimly returned.

The Day After

So what was the significance of Dr. Rubble instructing me to take a shower before I came to today’s appointment? I’ll tell you. By showering and letting water flow into the wound, the gauze he packed into it would not adhere to my healing abscess, making the extraction of the two feet of material not agonizingly painful. Sure wish I would have understood that clearly before I came to my appointment! Dr. Rubble even made a point of asking me if I had showered. I said sure--I showered dutifully. He asked if the gauze had gotten wet. I said sure, because it had. If he would have asked if water had saturated the gauze, I might have been spared a good deal of pain. Oh well. His nurse held my hand while I bit my lip.

Tennisfiend witnessed the extraction, later commenting that the gauze looked like “a yard of meaty bacon” as the doctor removed it. He was quite remorseful for not clarifying the doctor’s instructions to me since my perception of Wednesday’s instructions was blurry. The doctor’s next set of instructions were obediently memorized by both us. I must shower 4-6 times a day, letting water flow into and rinse my wound. Friday I should be able to clean the insides with a q-tip (gasp!).  If he noticed the look of inexpressible horror on my face, he ignored it. The doctor prescribed me a mega-dose of Cleocin, an antibiotic so powerful it gives you diarrhea for weeks after treatment. Assisted by TF, I bravely staggered out of the office five minutes later. We sat in the parking lot for ten minutes while I recovered.

It took most of the afternoon to build up enough courage to take my first shower. I started by wetting the bandage thoroughly to keep it from sticking. Heh.  I tried not to look, but morbid curiosity overcame my usual squeamishness. My first glance made my stomach clench. Immediately, an image from the Discovery Channel popped into my head. A group of fishermen butchered a great white shark. The gruesome combination of pale white skin and bloody red flesh looked exactly like eviscerated shark meat. I felt simultaneously dissociated from my incision and utterly repulsed by it. Despite my love for horror movies, I am ridiculously squeamish over real life medical procedures. I vow to desensitize myself with some Discovery Health programming.  Brrr.

Breast Surgery

Yep. This is backdated, fer sure. I was in no state to write on the day of my surgery, let alone compose coherent sentences!

Anyway, I went in for breast surgery today at 12:30 p.m. This is twelve hours after I learned that surfing the internet at light speed under the influence of  Tylenol 3 can make a person barf, big time. I spent the rest of the night worrying about dying from my infection prior to surgery (think Jim Henson) or dying during surgery (think my grandpa) or waking up in recovery without a left breast (think neighbor lady).

Around two in the morning, I woke up to discover that my giant red lump had developed a purplish center. Since I still had no fever, I calmly called our nurse hotline and chatted with Barry, who assured me that I was not going to die--abscesses sometimes develop purple centers. He told me to truck down to the emergency room if I developed a fever or red streaks (I knew that having googled my condition extensively). Overall, he was sweet and reassuring; he made me feel much better. Mwah! Big kiss to Barry. 

How ironic that someone who worries so much over her health in general could be taken by surprise and wind up needing a surgical procedure. Someone should have told me to see the doctor if a milk duct is plugged for more than three days.  I also should have started pestering the radioligist sooner. Waiting the extra day and a half for surgery allowed my abscess to double in size--the difference between a needle in a doctor's office and general anesthesia in the hospital. Well, I survived the ordeal--

9:00 Arrive at Dr. Rubble's office.  The nurse gasps when she looks at my abscess. She puts some pain relif lotion on it and tells me that the doctor will be in to lance the abscess shortly. I balk.

9:15 Dr. Rubble enters, non-chalantly looks at my breast, frowns at the nurse  for putting on the lotion and tells her to schedule me for general anesthesia and a Incision and Drainage at noon today. I was rather expecting this. I actually request an IV from Dr. Rubble since I feel so dehydrated from last night's puking festival.

10:45 At the hospital with Tennisfiend, with the IV sloshing glucose, electrolytes and water into my system. A loquacious asian nurse makes me comfortable and continues a dialoge about asian culture with me nonstop until her lunchtime. I appreciate the distraction.

11:00 Momfiend and her backpack arrive. She leaves in an hour to relieve Fontessa, who has been babysitting Tyoma.

11:15 I am grateful that I brought my breast pump, since one is not readily avaible. I pump for a half an hour and worry about genral anethesia while TF tries to stay awake. My abscess is spectacularly painful and I can't take any meds for it.

11:45 The anesthesioligist arrives. He is a short, swarthy Robert Duvall with an inscrutably dry sense of humour. To prevent another barf-fest he orders medication to prevent nausea. Oddly enough, the anti-nauseant nauseates me. Bring out the pink puke cup!

12:00 The chatty nurse returns to inform me that Dr. Rubble will arrive shortly. In sotto voce, she tells us that he is running late.

12:30 The nurse starts the happy meds. I'd be sillier if I weren't so groggy. Pain decreases, yay!

12:45 Dr. Rubble arrives and I am whisked off to the operating chamber.  They put a mask on me and my lights go out.

1:??  I wake up in recovery, still thinking i am in the operating room about to go under. Everything is foggy. I try to make some jokes, but clearly I'm the only one who realizes how hilarious I am. TF arrives. Dr. Rubble gives me detailed instructions related to wound care. I repeat everything back to him. He gives me a prescription for oxycodone. The next hour  mysteriously disappears.

3:30 On the way home my lack of pain meds kicks in. Every bump is agonizing. I curse and whine at TF in a never ending stream. He escorts me to the couch and heads to Walgreens to drop off prescriptions. At home Mom listens patiently while I blather on endlessly. Must be some drugs left in my system! 

4:00 I call Pat to let her know I survived the surgery (she told me I would) and to beg her to stop by with some trashy mags after work. Fontessa naps and Mom continues to listen to me blabber non-stop.

Sometime after the pain meds kick in: Ewbliette arrives with a super sweet halloween ghost-bag full of goodies: The Enquirer, Star, Sun, The Globe, Weekly World News ("Alien Mummy Goes on Rampage," YAY!), Acoustic Guitar Magazine (for TF), chocolate covered macadamia nuts, and my favorite cheaparoonie candy--a Christoper's Big Cherry! Ewbliette takes over for Momfiend in listening to me prattle on, even giving me a foot massage! Friends and Family rule!

Ultrasound Adventure

I had my breast ultrasound early this morning and spent the rest of the day twiddling my thumbs waiting for results. Fortunately,  the cool US tech girl gave me a heads up on the radiologist's propesnsity to drag his feet on sending reports. As a result, I spent an hour on the phone harassing various agencies to get my reults sent to my doctor's office. Lucky me. Almost ten minutes to the second after my final phone call,  a Dr. Rubble calls me. I have no idea who he is, but he will be my surgeon tomorrow! I have a serious breast abscess. I need surgery. Would I like to come in tonight? Perhaps tomorrow would be better since I need to be without food for at least six hours to avoid aspirating my meal and dying a horrible death? A nine o'clock appointment with Dr. Rubble is scheduled for tomorrow. The evening passes with about five more phonecalls to prepare me for tomorrow's procedure, including a call from Sarah Seamstress for stronger pain meds (codeine).  I make a few more phone calls to my mommy (Wah! Poor me!) and Ewbliette (am I going to die?). Damn, I was hoping to avoid all this.

Day From Hell, Really!

Today was the day from hell. Despite a night of little sleep due to breast pain, I woke up at my usual 2:00 am to take Tyoma for the remainder of the night. Twenty minutes into my shift I began to feel very unwell and achy--still no fever. Alarmed, I woke up Tennisfiend to finish my shift. I felt terrible. At dawn I'd call Gretta Granola for an appointment. I'd also reschedule Tyoma's two month shots today since Tennisfiend did not want to miss work to take him. Dr.Coppola would not reschedule me and  Gretta said she's see me at 2:00.

I managed to make Tyoma's appointment with TF in attendance. We were stuck watching a video on immunizations and I had to ask the nurse to skip it so we could make my 2:00 appointment with Gretta. It was a bit of a last minute circus, since tyoma was fussy/crying after his shots and TF wanted to take him straight home and I needed to go straight to my appointment since I was miserable. I wound up meeting Momfiend in the parking lot. We raced across town to dash into the doctor's office at 2:01, only to find that Gretta had called, she was delayed in traffic.

When I showed her my poor swollen breast, she gasped and called the doctor who immediately wrote me a prescription for strong antibiotics and a slip for an ultrasound at the hospital (the ultrasound will rule out a condition called a galactocele). I also received a prescription for yet  another breast ointment, and the doctor dismissed my primary's concerns over being allergic to Tyoma's saliva.  When I went to the hospital for my ultrasound, I spent an hour struggling with the medical staff over scheduling concerns. Apparently, one simply  doesn't request a walk in for a breast ultrasound. After much aggravation and four phone calls to the doctor's office, they scheduled me for an appointment first thing tomorrow--much better that late Wednesday afternoon!

I've spend the balance of the afternoon distracting myself on google, looking up "galactocele," and preying that I don't have to go in for surgery to have my breast drained. The idea of surgery horrifies me, especially since I squick out easily. I'd have to hire someone to care for my healing wound, I swear! Fortunately, surgery is uncommon, and I haven't had a fever so maybe it will go away with antibiotics.  I do curse myself for not calling Gretta on Friday, I really thought that this would go away with heating pads and massage.

Two Months Old!

>
Well, has finally arrived! She came in late Friday, full of energy and love for her new grandson. It was a sweet moment, when she laid eyes on him for the first time. She wept, Tennisfiend wept, I wept and Tyoma wisely broke out his ten mega-watt smile for all of us. Naturally, when we recovered and thought to break out the camera, he turned it off. Saturday we made an attempt to capture his elusive smile (he’s obviously camera-shy), with no success. Nevertheless, we snapped some cool pics (more on Flickr). We didn’t use the cool reflectors that lent us, since we were a bit frazzled and lucky enough to get the baby in the picture without chopping off the top of his head. Anyway, here’s some photos of Tyoma in honor of his two month anniversary.

(Click on image for a larger view)

Tennisfiend's Mom

Well, the day has finally arrived. E's mom, Tanya will be arriving from Russia in less than twelve hours! This will be her third visit to the states, and her first visit in five years. We hope that she will stay with us for a couple of months, at least. Yay! She will cook for us! Not that my mom hasn’t been breaking her back to cook, but with the two of them on duty, we won’t have to stomach another Stouffer Classic Lasgna meal for a long time. Actually, Stouffer isn’t half bad, Hormel meals are the worst. Bleagh!

All food fantasies aside, Fontessa is a caring, sensitive and generous woman. She was so kind to me when I first came to Moscow eleven years ago. A strange American woman marries her son after dating for seven months and she welcomes me with champagne and kisses. Treating me like the daughter she never had, she never once made me feel unwelcome. Fresh flowers greeted me every time I visited her dacha (country home) and she always fixed my favorite dishes. (More cooking references, hmmmm…) At family parties, with no one but my husband speaking English, she made sure I was included and even the center of attention. I was treated like a genuine queen.

A flower from Fontessa's garden.

In the time that we have been apart, Fontessa (and the rest of our family) never forgets an anniversary, birthday, or special holiday. She constantly sends photographs of her lovely garden and plenty of nifty care packages. When Fontessa visits us, she is just as delightful. None of this bossy mother-in-law stuff--total respect for my way of doing things, but her spirit and attitudes always shine through. Do I love this woman? You bet! Her visits are a dream!

Okay. I’m calm now. Gooey relative rave is over.   J

Garden Despair

Early this morning I stepped in to the backyard for the first time in many weeks. Although part of my absence has been due to being busy with Tyoma, we have also been infested with mosquitoes. West Nile always lurks in southern New Mexico, so I’ve been extra cautious, not wanting to be a statistic filling airtime on CNN. 

No mosquitoes this morning. Surprisingly, I noticed that I could see big white clouds of my own breath! Whoa. Just last week I wore shorts and blasted the AC, now it’s time for sweaters. I took stock of my poor, neglected garden. Survivors of my birthday planting looked blighted and misshapen. Weeds overtook most of my flower beds. Unkempt ornamental grasses swallowed their delicate neighbors. Totally depressing. 

On the bright side, our new gravel was immaculate—free of weeds and raked lovingly by in the finest karesansui fashion. The koi pond, filled with mosquito fattened fish, sparkled crystal clear. Our pool rests tidy and clean under its recently installed solar blanket. And finally, our new porch, recently scrubbed by TF, glistened with dew. Sheesh. Am I off base feeling that all this order is incongruous next to my wretched garden? Humph. I plan to find some mosquito netting for the stroller and get caught up on my work before the first frost.

Babyfiend

Allergic To My Baby?!

I went in for my annual physical today, visiting the avuncular Dr. Trout, my doctor  (and occasional savior) for many years. After the he gave me usual congratulations on the new baby, I made my usual comments on continuing breast problems. After much questioning and an exam, he diagnosed me with allergic dermatitis of the nipple and suggested that I might actually be allergic to Artyom's saliva! Whoa. He prescribed a powerful anti-inflammatory  (Ultravate) and gave me the litany about breastfeeding and topical steroid use. All of this is at odds with the "you still have thrush" coming from my nurse practitioners. I'll see if the meds help.

When I came home, I spent my obligatory hour and a half on gooogle checking all this out. Tomorrow I'll call Gretta Granola and ask about the both the diagnosis and medication before I use it. What a weird diagnosis! And how depressing. I feel like I need to call Maury Povich.

On a cheerier note, I spoke to Patricia for almost a half hour today. Our schedules have been incompatible--she comes home from work when I go to sleep prior to my evening/early morning baby shift. I can't remember everything that was said, but I know that I yelled "Ahhhh!" into the phone and that she had some delicious gossip for me.

E.T.A. Subsequent doctor visits revealed that I still had thrush compounded by dermatitis. I was allergic to the nipple cream originally prescribed to me for thrush. Go figure.

What's been going on...

It has been too long since we last chatted! And it's all my fault! I was out shopping for Tanya on Sunday since I spent all Saturday at home/having my hair done. Derpy-de-durr. So here's what's been going on:

Tyoma is growing like a weed! I can't wait to have you over to take a peek at him. I plan to take some pics soon, Lord knows when that will actually materialize. He's been healthy and non-colicky. We did have a little problem with acid reflux (!), especially as a result of me drinking too much cranberry juice. I thought that I had a bladder infection, but alas, Lisa told me that it was normal bladder stuff after the epidural. It could take up to six months for my bladder to return to normal. At least I'm not pissing my pants anymore (well, I'm not pissing them much).

Speaking of my six week appointment, I've got some over-healing skin tags that might need to be burned off.  Geeze, that sucks. I'm waiting to see if the over-healed parts will resolve themselves.  Other appointment stuff is boring, except I still have that damn nipple thrush, so I'm hooked up to the breast pump every three hours. How shitty. I've been on a month plus of anti-fungals plus my diet is almost carb free except for oatmeal. I never thought I'd get so sick of cheese and meat. Sigh.

Mimi and I are getting along swell, she's been babysitting for me on Wednesdays while I shop. Since Tanya will be here this Friday, she was here three times last week. It went really well, she's super sweet and entertains Tyoma tremendously. She and Walt have been keeping Misty on and off, too. Misty will be bummed to return here--she just doesn't get the same loveys. This weekend we're leaving Misty at their place till Tanya gets settled.

Saturday  Robert did my hair and he suggested lowlites and bangs for me. Holy crap, I took a chance and WOW! I look different! E was going to snap a pic for me to show you, but we got way too busy and we forgot. I really like the new look, I hope the hair color stays true. Since my hair darkened so much with the pregnancy, my highlights have an orangish cast. Robert said that he'd fix it for me but I didn't want to overprocess my hair. Let's see what I say in two weeks.

I am really looking forward to Nukestock, though my breasfeeding needs may curtain my presence, either that or maybe Brotherkurt could let me pump in his private bathroom so I can stay for a longer time. I have NO clue for a costume, though Robert made some great suggestions. He suggested that I bring Tyoma by for a quick "How do you do" and that we come in a matching costume. His idea was a Popeye-Olive Oyl-Sweetpea triad. How cute! And how sooo not happening. He aslo suggested Angelina Jolie & Shilo, Little bo Peep and Sheep, and Little Miss Muffet and Spider. As if. Heh, I do admire his creativity. I am all out of creative thought!

Well, girl, I do miss you terribly and hope you have a second to tell me what's up with you. For now this post is for your eyes only, so feel free to post whatever. Hope to hear from you soon!

Much love,
Lori

E.T.A.

Well, its four something and I am unwinding for my upcoming three-four hours of sleep. It's great to hear that you'll be home early tomorrow and Wednesday. I've got an appointment for an annual physical with my old physician, Dr. Bass. I haven't had a physical in forever. I'm going primarily so I can get a flu shot this year, that and I have a funny mole on my tummy. Anyway, borrr-ring! I'll check in later tonight since I'm up every three hours to do the breast feeding/pumping thing. How are you? And Brotherkurt? and Daddy? Work? What have you decided on for Nukestock costumes? Hot gossip? You rock!!!

At Long Last

Well, our brand new baby boy arrived a little more than two weeks ago, on August 21. Artyom Alexander D. weighed 8 pounds, 5 ounces and measured 19 and 3/4 long. I'll post my birthstory later, it was wonderful!

Finally, I can sit at the computer comfortably!!! Despite not feeling truly miserable until the final three days of my pregnancy, I realize that the past two-three months were uncomfortable enough to keep me off the computer chair and ass deep in pillows on the couch. At last I hope to transfer my journaling online. Actually, I'm not totally normal yet, I feel like we have welcomed more than our new son into the household. My breasts have taken on a life of their own, including not only a size change that seems to be keeping pace with our baby's robust growth, but also a fussy character that surpasses colicky witching hour awakenings. I'm just waiting for my nipples to burst open and start squalling inconsolably. That's all for now.

Pics at Three Weeks

I'll spare you the dozens of poorly illuminated/overexposed shots that our tired selves took of Tyoma and leave you with these two shots we took of him on a sunny weekend right before his one month anniversary.

(Click on image for a larger view)

We'll post some more pics once we can catch him in the act of smiling.

Newborn Pics

The first pictures of Artyom(A.K.A Tyoma, Malootka! Russian tradition/superstition dictates that no one but immediate family can see a newborn baby until forty days after the birth (some Russians hold out for two months!).

This restriction surprisingly applies to photographs also, as we found out from Artyom's great grandmother Lydia (who was quite concerned about it). So, the only souls to have seen the baby (aside from medical staff) are us (duh), his maternal grandparents, and his Godmother . So, at long last I unveil his "Home From The Hospital" photos:

(Click on image for a larger view)  
We arrived home from the hospital around 8:00 p.m., with plenty of help from Ewbliette, who schlepped our birthing expedition gear. It must have taken me twenty minutes to gingerly climb out of the back seat of my truck, even with 's help! My bottom was unbelievably sore! Anyway, two hours later, we snapped shots of Tyoma to send to his family in Russia. Unfortunately, our sleep deprived state resulted in thirty shots that were all a touch too dark.
Poor Tennisfiend looks absolutely wiped! He slept less than seven hours in the past three days. Part of the sleep deprivation came from caring for Tyoma while I spent an extra few days in the hospital. He changed diapers, rocked the baby, brought the baby to me for feedings and even helped with the supplemental feedings the Doctors recommended. Funny, I don't recall much of the first night home except for the photographs and Ewbliette buying us a half dozen towels.


I just had to share this pic, unlovely though it may be. Poor little devil looks like he just realized what a crazy family he was born into!

Goth Nipples

 I haven't gotten around to posting my breastfeeding drama(s) yet, but I just had to post this.  Naturally, I plan to nurse Tyoma exclusively for the first six months and I ambitiously hope to continue for one whole year. It's something you do for your child that will impact him/her for the rest of their lives. Well anyway, after a few extra days in the hospital with attendant  nursing problems, I came home and worked on developing a painful case of mastitis. 

Did I say painful?  Heh. Thrush is painful.  Mastitis, meh. Got thrush two weeks ago on a Saturday and liked to have died. Bless icepacks and Diflucan. And bless Sarah Seamstress, who took care of my agonized self at nine in the evening.

Two weeks on the antifungals have passed, and I was still itchy/burny so I called my lactation consultant for help. She suggested more Diflucan and painting my nipples with Gentian Violet. Gentian Violet is like iodine, except it is purple-black and it smears and stains everything.

Since I have lost all modesty with the birth and breastfeeding, so I'm tempted to post a pic of my grotesque deep-purple nipples for your amusement. But I am restraining myself. Egor observed me painting my  poor  monstrously huge nips and laughed, "You've got Goth Nipples!" That struck me as being outrageously funny.  That's all. :D

Happy Grandparent's Day!

Happy Grandparent's Day Momfiend and Dadfiend!I can't thank you enough for all of the help that you have given us! The shopping, the cooking, the babysitting, the panicked phonecalls, the cranky phonecalls, the moral support--the list goes on! I appreciate you and love you very much!

Thrush

What a miserable night! One problem with a woman taking antibiotics is developing a yeast infection. Thankfully, I haven't had one of those in years. Until now. Did you know that yeast infections can occur in a breastfeeding mom's nipples? I'd heard of the dreaded nipple infection, thrush, from a former co-worker who struggled with it for four months. She was agonized by it. Out of fear I gobbled acidophilus tablets and guzzled yogurt while on anitbiotics. I suspect that I have been developing an infection since Wednesday, but it hit full force last night. Zow, what pain!

How can I describe the pain? Well, it was about an eight on my pain scale--an intense shooting, stabbing pain that took my breath away. Ibuprofen could not take off the edge of it. I slept with icepacks on my boobs. Unbelievable! Sarah Seamstress rescued my miserable self with a prescription for a powerful antifungal late yesterday evening. Although the medication didn't stop the infection in its tracks, the icepacks she recommended allowed me to sleep. Whew!

Mastitis

Last night I started shivering at nine in the evening. I continued to shiver with increasing violence until two a.m., when I became alarmed and woke up Tennisfiend. I took my temperature while he made me some hot tea. Naturally, I consulted our medical library and diagnosed myself with mastitis.

Breast pain? Check. Chills? Check. Fever? Check. Headache? Check. And so on. First thing in the morning I called Gretta Granola who confirmed my suspicions. She gave me a list of self care suggestions and told me she'd call me in the afternoon to see if I was any better. I shook and sweat all day. Since I just felt worse, she called in an antibiotic prescription for me. This sucks. The last thing I wanted was to start taking meds while I'm trying to breasfeed. Anyway, there should be no problem with nursing with this antibiotic, it just sucks to be sick.

Gretta Granola

Today Tennisfiend, Tyoma and I visited our lactation consultant, Gretta Granola. She had visited me on my third day in the hospital since my nipples were so inflamed from breastfeeding. At the time, she could find no problem with my latch and seemed a bit mystified over my super-sore nipples.

Anyway, I am still sore as hell so I needed to see her, again. I was rather nervous about the appointment, since I had the feeling that she would be judgmental toward me. Sometimes earthy folk take exception to aging goth-types. She wound up being very sweet and helpful, I guess what I took as distance at the hospital was concern for my breastfeeding future. I learned a bit about my latch and had a very comfortable experience with her. Tennisfiend was utterly bored and skulked behind her, looking at his watch surreptitiously. I hope that her suggestions clear up any problems I was having so I can wean myself from the breast pump..

Tyoma's First Appointment

Whew! Today we took Tyoma for his first pediatrician appointment. The hardest part was getting comfortable in the waiting room. Dr. Candy Coppola recently moved to a new location, and with it came new furniture. Her Southwestern decor is quite tasteful but a bit of an odd choice.  It looks as if she duplicated a trendy page from Santa Fe magazine, right down to the Navajo rugs and carved hardwood furniture.  It was more of a dentist's office than a waiting room for kids. Actually, her new furnature would be an odd choice for any office since the hard wood furniture is bulky, angular and unpleasant as stone to sit on. Looks swell, though.  Strangely, the toys looked shabby and overused.

Maybe the problem wasn't the furniture so much as it was my poor sore bottom. I could not sit down!  The couches had no cushions, and the stack of Highlights magazines was not any softer. I had to ask the receptionist to borrow a computer chair so I could sit. With surprise she told me that no one had mentioned the uncomfortable seats before. I would have been offended if they had been in their new location for more than a week. As it was, I gave her a wan smile and gratefully sat down.

Tennisfiend quickly became bored with the wait and began rolling his eyes and making faces. At least he wasn't moaning, "Skuchna!"  ("Boring") in deep baritone. The nurse, Lupe,  who took us to the exam room managed to pronounce Artyom's name correctly the first time. She weighed him and Dr. Coppola joined us. She fielded questions for the next half hour, encouraging us to call the nurse if we have any questions. I wonder if she knows how neurotic I am. Heh.

Our Son Born!

Yeah, this is so backdated. And also so unfinished.

Since it will take me an eternity to post my birthstory in its entirety and I am such a perfectionist, I'll just post a timeline, otherwise Artyom will be in college before I finish.

12:10 am Contractions wake me up. I time them to see how regular they are. I am excited that they are painful and regular, but not too excited. This will be the fourth morning in a row that this has happened.

2:15 Woke up Tennisfiend to help time contractions, they are becoming more painful and regular. Yay!
4:00 Continued contractions, resisted the urge to call birth partners (Momfiend and Ewbliette).
5:45 Contractions slowing down, irregular. This sucks! Thank heavens I have an appointment scheduled this morning.
7:00 called Ewbliette to give her a heads up before work. I felt rather stressed, can’t recall exactly what I said to her! I reckon I was incoherent.
9:30 am Ultrasound reveals that amniotic fluid is very, very low. Labor needed to be induced this morning for the well being of the baby. Sarah Seamstress, our midwife, told us we have time to stop by the house to pick up our bags.
10:30 Bags in the car, we are on our way to the hospital. TF calls Moscow, I call Momfiend and Ewbliette. 10:45 Waiting to be admitted. Seems to take forever! Patricia meets us at the hospital (her co-workers rejoice) She brings a ton of trashy tabloid magazines (including the World Weekly News, which I aspire to write for!). A true friend indeed!
11:30 Finally we have a room. It is very nice, like a hotel suite almost. We treat it like a hotel, filling up all the cabinets with our stuff--pillows, bags, drinks, books. It looks like a bunch of nerds are going to have a sleep over.
12:30 Momfiend arrives. She is bringing even more stuff with her. Her 42” expedition back pack is loaded down so heavily that she needs TF to help her remove it. I contemplate the logistics of Momfiend and the backpack, wondering how she ever managed to get it on her back in the first place. Everyone is jolly, joking and cheerful, this definitely feels like a sleepover!
12:45 Sarah Seamstress visits and performs an internal exam; she gives me a tablet to induce labor. IV is inserted, I am remarkably not as freaked out by it as I thought I would be.
1:05 Contractions begin again, and these puppies are really painful. My team hunkers around me: Ewbliette coaches my breathing, Momfiend times each contraction and Tennisfiend pets my head. I alternately contemplate my dad’s moonstone and Ewbliette’s eyes. The contractions begin to come just minutes apart close and the pain intensifies. This is absolutely unbelievable. I am practically screaming my “hee-hee” breathing as Ewbliette coaches me. Mom squeezes my hand as if she could take some of the pain away herself.
1:25 Despite my resolve to avoid painkillers, I ask for Stadol to hold me over until the epidural. The Stadol doesn’t take away the pain, but it helps me relax enough for the epidural.
1:35 Sarah Seamstress does another internal exam, I am dilated between 4 and 5 cm, time for an epidural! If I weren’t so preoccupied with contractions, I’d be more cognizant of my gratitude.
1:40 The epidural team clears the room, a very Nordic looking nurse talks me through contractions as her older twin sister applies the epidural. Relief takes some time, but when it finally hits, it is complete. I am comforted, knowing that after several sleepless nights, I can get some rest.
2:00 Very cold. Momfiend and Ewbliette haul out my sweater and socks. Once I warm up, I alternate between resting and chatting with my birth partners. I look across the room to see TF browsing through The Globe. Momfiend has on her giant eye reading glasses and peruses a detective novel. Ewbliette is just out of my field of view, but I bet she’s reading The Weekly World News. Some rednecks caught Osama in Alabama, you know. I feel wonderfully fortunate.
4:00 A nurse rolls me on my side to help Artyom’s heart rate. 4:10 The nurse returns to roll me onto my other side.
4:30 It’s time to begin pushing. Tennisfiend leaves us, expecting to have his son in his arms within the next hour. Our team is so ready! We have been practicing with our DVD for the past few weeks. Ewbliette will count out loud “One, two, three, PUSH! Four, five, six, PUSH! Seven, eight, nine, PUSH!” While Momfiend supports my legs and knees, and fetches a damp washcloth in between contractions. 5:00 Contractions are not strong enough, they add pitocin to the IV to make them stronger.
5:15 Pushing is hard with an epidural! I can feel when to push, but not exactly how to push. Sarah has her fingers (hand?!) in my hoo-hah and presses down, to tell me to push “there.” She tells me 40,000 times how to hold my legs. Every bit of success is met with cheers by my midwife, birth partners and whatever staff also happens to be in the room.
5:45 Lost bowel control, pooped all over the place. I had wanted to take an enema before leaving for the hospital, but since my amniotic fluid was so low, I was worried about harming Artyom. Anyway, nothing a few tasteless jokes can’t fix. Although the nurses have probably heard them all, I relish the chance to make Momfiend and Ewbliette chuckle. Wish I could remember exactly what I said!
6:00 Still pushing, though I am getting better. I am pushing at every contraction. Bless the epidural, I would be so tired now without it.
6:30 Still pushing. I have enough energy to joke in between contractions.
7:00 Still pushing. Not so many jokes now. I appreciate Ewbliette's loud coaching and worry about my Mom's hip since she is holding my left leg.
7:38 Artyom is stuck in my birth canal. Sarah calls Dr. Aggitator to bring the forceps/vacuum extractor. He will arrive in ten minutes.
7:40 Sarah tells me to keep pushing, we might make it without the forceps. She guides my hand down to feel Tyoma's little head. I burst into tears and push like a motherf***er.
7:47 Two pushes later, I squeeze him out without the aid of forceps! They put him on my belly and I weep copiously. To be continued...

Happy Birthday Tennisfiend!

Thank you Auntie Marina for the sentimental photo from overseas! The little doggie is Druzhyok, E's childhood lovey, dressed in a traditional Russian outfit, handmade by Auntie!

Tennisfiend, with all of the hullabaloo over Artyom’s inevitable arrival, we can’t forget your birthday! We worked hard to surprise you!

I hope that you enjoy your grill master’s themed birthday, complete with a charcoal grill, and obscure accessories! What a selfish gift to give, really, since all that fine gourmet grilling will wind up in my tummy! Yum!

All Is Well

Had my ultrasound, Malootka is doing fine! No problem with my placental grade. The ultrasound tech said I was normal and not to worry. The baby has a great heart rate with no arrhythmia and all his other little parts are fine.

My amniotic fluid is a touch low--they were looking for a 10 when I had an 8--but everything else is swell. A follow up scan is scheduled for next week, just in case. Whew! Ate a delicious plate of ribs to celebrate!

Soon...

I look more zaftig than preggers!

Misty Care Sheet For Dadfiend

Dad! Here's everything you need to know for Misty and our House while everyone is at the hospital:

Misty

Feeding

We feed Misty in the morning after we have eaten (she usually won’t eat before since she wants our food instead!). She gets a can of dogfood and two scoops of dry food mixed with a treat. 

Problem Foods

Avoid giving Misty eggs, milk products (including creamy soups, sour cream & yogurt), almonds, walnuts, pecans and chocolate.

Misty is fine with peanuts, all meats, bread, grains. She can have a small amount of beans and cheese (Velveeta cheese slices) without problem. You can give her as much doggie biscuits as you like, she tolerates them well.

Tummy Trouble

If you think Misty has tummy trouble, three things seem to help:

• Give her broth to drink, about ¼ of a cup every half hour to replace fluids. If you think she needs some energy, a spoon or two of honey is helpful.
• No people treats for two days (a few doggie treats are fine).
• Wait at least six/eight hours after her last bout of sickness to feed her. Skip the dry dog food and give her one can of dogfood, you can give her another six/eight hours later.

Hydration/Heat

Sometimes Misty forgets to drink enough water. Filling a quart jar with fresh water in front of her seems to help. On a very hot day, you might want to keep her in during the hottest hours. She will chase lizards until she drops!

Late Night Restlessness

If Misty rams around late at night (11pm-3am), wanting outside, chances are her stomach is upset. She usually wants to go outside to eat a mess of grass-- not to be sick. The grass she eats will cause vomiting. Watch her very carefully outside, she is terribly sneaky about grass eating. After a walk or two outside, we usually keep her in and toss a special “barf carpet” by the door if she gets sick.

If she doesn’t seem interested in sneaking away from you to eat grass, she might want to hunt neighborhood cats--especially if her tail and ears are up. This usually happens around the full moon.

Misty might want outside around dawn (430am on). This is normal.

Doggie Meds

We will give you some doggie calm meds for Misty. The dosage is ¼ tablet, although she can take up to one whole tablet. We have never given her more than ¼ tablet in a twelve hour period. The tabs seem to take 3 hours to reach a maximum effectiveness (they might not seem to work at all till then!), and then they last for another four to eight hours.

When we leave for the hospital, we will leave you a note/message with the time of the last dosage we gave her to keep you from dosing her too soon. You don’t need to give her any more meds unless you choose to. In fact, she may be just fine and not need any until we are ready to bring her home. We’ll give you call to dose her a few hours before I come home.

Misty’s Vet:            Dr. Calista 525-1000

                                    1080 Medpark Drive

Other House Stuff

You are welcome to come on over and watch dvds on our TV. I’ll leave you detailed instructions and hopefully have things set up for you.

You don’t need to worry about mail or the lights, but you are welcome to check on each.

Sunroom Flooding

• If the water is more than halfway up the sunroom floor, turn off the breaker switch to the sunroom. The switch will be marked in the laundryroom.
• We will leave our pump hooked up so all you need to do is plug it in if it floods. Plug the pump into the outlet with the blue tape on it. Or use the extension cord if the room is too flooded. Be sure to use chairs to keep the cord connections out of the water if you use the extension cord.
• The pump will need time to prime itself, this can take five-ten minutes. You can hasten the process by priming it in a basin filled with water that we will leave nearby.
• We will leave towels out in case you need them. If we forget, they are located on a cube shelf in the big closet in our bedroom (the one with the door on the south wall). Please don’t worry about cleaning up anything. E will be happy to have something to do when he comes home!

 Yay! Thank you!

Placenta Problems?

I asked my midwife if she had received the results of from my perinatologist appointment in El Paso. Clara said yes and proceeded to read me the results, which were, "Normal, normal, normal, normal, normal, huhn?!"

Apparently my placenta is maturing a bit rapidly, which could be a problem. She scheduled an ultrasound for me next week to check on the age of the placenta. I've spent the balance of the day perusing the babycenter.com chat rooms, feeling successively relieved and anxious.

Ultimately, if a problem serious existed, Dr. Topgun would have said something and Clara would have given me an Ultrasound right away. I am going to eat a banana with a heap of peanut butter for comfort.

Buying A Pump

After spending three hours wringing out wet towels last night to drain the sunroom finally agreed that we needed to break down and buy a pump. I was inordinately excited about a trip to Lowes (yay shopping!) until I spent fifteen minutes standing around while Tennisfiend meticulously studied the pump assortment.

I dragged a white five gallon paint bucket over to the pump aisle and took a seat across from the display security camera system so I could entertain myself while TF satisfied his research instincts. Thirty minutes later, after some discussion, we left with a moderately priced pump that will hopefully suck out the next onslaught of flood waters. To commemorate my victory in the pump war (I've been campaigning for one since last summer), TF took my pic in the back yard. I'm eight and a half months pg!

As Predicted...

Well, that took longer than I expected. At 3:am I decided that the blurr near his neck just had to be his umbilical cord. Sigh.

 At 7:am, my sanity returned. Sheesh. Oh! And the sunroom flooded again! Water was six inches up the side of the house and an inch and a half deep in the house. So much for our new patio averting floodwaters. We don't have it too bad, though--the neighbor's chain link fence washed away. An arroyo sprung up on the periphery of their property; it looks like the Colorado River over there!

Birth Plan

Birth Plan
To my Health Care Providers: Thank you for taking the time to work with us and our birth plan. These are our preferences; however we are open and flexible to any medical intervention that may become necessary in the case of a medical emergency.
My Name:	Best Fiend	My Due Date:	August 12, 2006
My Husband:	Tennis Fiend	My Doctor:	Sarah Seamstress
My Labor Partners:	Momfiend and Ewbliette

Monitoring
I do not want an internal monitor unless the baby has shown some sign of distress.

---

Labor Augmentation/Induction
I would prefer no augmentation or induction unless medically necessary.

---

Anesthesia/Pain Medication
I would like to have an epidural.

I would like the strength of the epidural adjusted to facilitate pushing.

---

Delivery
I would like to have routine pitocin given to me to assist in the delivery of the placenta.

---

Episiotomy
I prefer to have no episiotomy and risk tearing (unless I'm having a medical emergency).

I would appreciate guidance in when to push and when to stop pushing so the perineum can stretch.

---

Cesarean
I wish to have an epidural for anesthesia.

I wish to have my husband, Egor XXX, present with me during the procedure, if possible.

---

Immediately After Delivery
If the baby must be taken from me to receive medical treatment, Egor XXX, my husband, will accompany the baby when possible.  

---

Breastfeeding
I plan to breastfeed exclusively and would like to begin nursing very shortly after birth.
I do not want the baby to be given a pacifier.

---

Circumcision
I do not want the baby circumcised.

---

Other
I would prefer that no students, interns, residents or non-essential personnel be present during my labor or the birth.

Please keep my door closed during labor.

Pool Project Complete!

Well, its been almost eight months and we finally finished repainting our pool.
 
You can't image how long this project took us! Draining the pool was a bucket of fun, and we almost gave up on the entire project, but the temptation of a fresh, new swimming pool was too much to resist. The hard work began in late March. We had to hire someone to sandblast the old paint off and only two people sandblast locally.
 
Naturally, we picked the scary sixty year old alcoholic with rickety equipment and a bad leg simply because we didn’t want to wait two months for the other company to get around to us. For $200 he pulled his wheezing machine up to the side of the fence and tottered over to Egor, who had to help him inside the pool. E said he smelled about 40 proof.
 
Pool guy was too infirm to clean up the buckets of sand and old paint liberated by the procedure, so we were stuck with the chore. E spent the balance of the weekend sweeping and vacuuming the fine, chalky dust, which seemed to have spread everywhere. I was grateful that we had the foresight to cover the koi pond. What a mess.
 
 While we tried to figure out how what to do next, the pool project remained in limbo. Thirty years ago, when our pool was poured by overly ambitious homeowners, it came out not quite right; they messed up the concrete forms. The pool’s distinctly lopsided appearance has been marred even more by deteriorating concrete painted over repeatedly in lieu of sensible repairs.

Quality restoration would involve an endless succession of patching, cleaning, solvents, washing, more patching, more solvents, multiple coats of primer and epoxy paint. We chose a simpler (and cheaper) route, consisting of lots of patching and minimal solvent use. Weekend after weekend Tennisfiend mixed and mashed epoxy patch and hydraulic cement into the numerous craters, fissures, cracks, chinks and crevices populating the pool.

In the 100 degree plus weather, epoxy oozed down the sides of the pool requiring plastic sheeting and duct tape forms to keep it in place. Hydraulic cement needed to be applied at the crack of dawn to prevent it from setting up in the mixing container. Well, you get the idea, it was lots of work.

When Tennisfiend wasn’t smearing noxious pastes on the pool, he was sanding and shaping the previous patch job. The whole process took about six weeks. After he finished patching and we ordered the paint, New Mexico’s monsoon season began. It rained and rained.

We spent three weeks either pumping rank water out of the pool or hosing off the accumulating dirt and plant particles. Finally, three days of clear weather were forecast and Tennisfiend began to paint. Unsurprisingly, the weather changed and it rained midway through the project. Sheesh. Anyway, it was poolpaint, so he finished. Here is our new pool:




Of course our desire for insane home improvement projects remains unquenched, so take a peek at our pool area:

 
To polish off our project, Tennisfiend will install a ladder (my pregnant self can't get in the pool without one!). We will replace uneven concrete pieces (by the table and chairs)next spring, and paint the entire deck tan. We also plan to remove the unsightly chain link fence and erect an attractive wood fence. It would be great to build a porch over the sitting area, but that might be way too expensive and/or time consuming. Most likely, we will buy one of those shaded enclosures you see at Lowes and Sam’s Club-- has a nifty set up in his back yard that I’d love to imitate!

Sweet Relief and the 3D Ultrasound

I am so relieved to report that Artyom’s appointment with the perinatologist revealed that his heart arrhythmia was nothing to be concerned about. I was so worried for him! I spent most of the night sleepless and became almost hysterical when I could not feel him move first thing in the morning. Sheesh.

The drive to El Paso seemed interminable for everyone. I annoyed both Tennisfiend and myself being neurotic over driving and parking. Other mothers in the waiting room at the specialist’s office seemed sleepy and bored, except for the older pregnant lady in a wheelchair who looked completely miserable. I made a mental note to be more grateful for my life.

The perinatologist, Dr. Topgun, pretty much ignored me, except for the routine health related questions and struck up a conversation with Tennisfiend about North Korea and nuclear weapons. He intently studied the ultrasound, explained why Artyom had a slight heart arrhythmia and that it would disappear at or before birth.

He then examined the rest of the baby’s little organs, proclaiming him to be perfectly normal and healthy. I asked a question or two, and Dr. Topgun made me feel like we had regressed to the 1940’s, when the “little woman” shouldn’t worry when the doctor tells her it’s all going to be okay. I was so relieved that I didn’t even mind. In fact, I’m ashamed to admit that his attitude actually helped me to feel better at the time.

Although in retrospect, it still chaffed a bit, and a non-pregnant, unworried Bestfiend would have certainly asserted herself with dignity and aplomb. To pay me back for a sleepless night, morning panic attack and backseat driving, Tennisfiend (quite chummy with Dr. Topgun, who seemed genuinely impressed with TF’s work with lasers) made me ask the question that I was too embarrassed to mention concerning umbilical cord entanglement.

His answer was totally redeeming. He said, “You can’t let yourself worry over every little thing, bad things can and do happen. You’ll drive yourself crazy if you do. Just focus on being parents. That’s the best you can do.”

Cool. Adding to the warm fuzzy feeling I left the office with, they gave us a nifty 3D ultrasound picture of Artyom. That blurr in the upper right hand corner is his foot! I personally think that he looks just like Tennisfiend, look at those lips! Naturally, he inherited his flexibility from me (not!). I wonder how long it will take me to find something horribly wrong with this picture. I’ll keep you posted!

Uhhm...

Pregnancy makes a girl, really, really canky.

Heart Arrhythmia

I am so grateful to always take someone with me to my appointments. Today, my midwife, Sarah Seamstress, found a heart arrhythmia with Tyoma. Ewbliette was with me in the office, taking copious notes. All I heard were the words “heart arrhythmia” and I sank into despair and anxiety. I did not seem to hear that 90% of the time that this is developmental and indicative of nothing. After telling me about the arrhythmia, Sarah scooted me over to the ultrasound room “for my peace of mind.” When the tech confirmed the arrhythmia, I heard the concerned in her voice as she asked Sara about scheduling an appointment with a perinatologist. I was so overwhelmed that I spaced out while they discussed whether they should send me to Albuquerque or El Paso. The Ultrasound tech said she’d give me a call tomorrow (translation, in three days) to let me know about the appointment.

I went home and immediately googled everything I could find on heart arrhythmias, and made peace with myself, vowing not to obsess over the problem since I can do nothing. I did vow to give up my daily indulgence of a cup of white tea, since I had two cups today. With less caffeine that a soda, this should not be a problem, but at least I feel like I am doing something.

The best thing I can do for myself is to read Ewbliette’s notes and reassure myself that everything is okay. I am so thankful to have a no-nonsense, non neurotic friend. What a lifesaver!

First Flood of The Season

We had our first mini-flood in the sunroom. I wasn't really paying attention to the rain, but it was wonderfully refreshing after weeks (month?!) of drought. I mopped the whole thing up with one of our sunroom towels. Hopefully the new patio we put un will keep the water out of the sunroom. Yay!

The Name Has Been Chosen

Here are the finalists for our little boy's name:

1. Timur
2. Artyom
3. Liev
4. Ruslan 
5. Aristarh 
6. Valentin

Our goal was to choose an ethnic Russian name over any iteration of popular American names. Why? Well, to honor papa's heritage. And of course, having the same name as somebody else is boring. You might fit in better as a Michael, Jacob or John, but I think already it's too late for the little guy. E and I never fit in, so I reckon he'll be unconventional as well.

I personally did not want a Christian name. Both of us are agnostic and I felt insincere bestowing a Biblical name for that reason.  But his beloved Grandmother was named Valentina, thus Valentin. On our final list, E nixed Valentin because of Val Kilmer. I kid you not.  I think he took Top Gun way too seriously.

We also nexed Timur, one of my favorites, due to it's strong Islamic use (agnostic perogative). Liev and Ruslan are wya cool, but my tummy has an A in it. Aristarh or Artyom? Ari or Tyoma? Tyoma.  That sounds so sweet on the lips. We have a winner!

 

Toe Gout!

I woke up an hour ago with the most intense pain in my right toe. The pain radiated from my toe knuckle. I got up to take some Tylenol, wondering what could cause me such pain, when it occurred to me that I must have gout. Since the warning flag for gestational diabetes was raised, I have been on a low carb-no sugar diet. That means lots of protien. Protein + painful toe = gout. Anyway, after consulting my medical library, I decided against gout. Then I realized my toe hurt from the awkward way I propped myself up on the Taurus when viewing fireworks. D'oh!

Twelve Years Ago

Twelve years ago Tennisfiend and I met for the first time! The anniversary always makes the holiday extra special J
As expected, the weather was traditional Forth of July--dreary, muggy, rainy with poor visibility. When I was a kid , this annual weather phenomena was a bane neighborhood children. It frequently affected our viewing of the local fireworks, or worse, it postponed or even prevented our own firework displays. Nowadays, they have seriously restricted firework usage, so all the fun stuff is prohibited. How many kids actually blow their fingers off, anyway? Oh, yeah, my cousin. He lost the tips of several fingers.

Our problem in 'Cruces is weather related. Except for today, it has been very hot and extremely dry. Thus aerial fireworks and even firecrackers have been banned. If I were a kid, I would be prostrate with grief. I loved blowing stuff up. We never spared an anthill, mailbox or stray soda can. On the bright side, Misty is relieved. Fireworks seriously freak her out.

Tonight Tennisfiend and I enjoyed a very low key evening. We ate delicious ribeye steak that TF grilled along with mushrooms and taters (none for me). We also had some wine--well I had some faux wine--and went out front to watch the city fireworks. Usually, we would go on the roof, but my pregnant self is certainly not climbing a ladder and scuttling about on a steep incline. It was difficult to find a comfortable place to sit where we could also see the display, but with the help of some pillows and the hood of the Taurus, we managed.

The city spent more on fireworks than usual this year. I can't decide if it was because of the firework ban or upcoming elections. I imagined how spectacular the display must have been from Pat's place. His house is adjacent to the park when they shoot everything off. Something fun is always happening at Brotherkurts! Whew, I'm tired. That's all for now!