@#$%&*!!!

spellcheck is down and my new laptop does not have word. Grrrrrr!

Parent Teacher Conference

Tuesday, I had a meeting with Tyoma’s preschool teachers, Miss Rhoda and Ms. Sue (who had to leave early). I was very surprised by the developmental assessment that I was given, which showed very little improvement since the last meeting in November.

Although it was reported that he been interacting more, and showed improved listening, speaking, vocabulary and skills, the report did not match up with the verbal or written reports I was given when I picked him up from school. *deep breath* For example, Ms. Rhoda had reported that he was “nowhere near” forming friendships, when she had actually reported a friendship forming in our November meeting (the child turned three and was moved to another classroom).

Additionally, I have seen him playing alongside the same little girl more than once. I suspect that the winter holidays, in combination with illnesses (the teachers and Tyoma’s) have resulted in a lack of quality teacher/student interaction and thus the discrepancy between reports. Also they could be underpaid and overworked, or perhaps even dimwitted and inattentive. I am open to all possibilities.

Nevertheless, we were in complete agreement on a few important points. Both teachers agreed that Tyoma performs his best when only 2 or 3 students share the same space with him. Having taken Tyoma to many parks and play areas, I completely agree. So I am seriously considering taking him out of KinderCare. Why have him stuffed in a classroom with 12 students and two teachers when he does better with one teacher and two peers?

We can find something better for him. And you know, I’m pissed. How many times did I pick him up and hear accolades on his progress? How many half-assed communications did they send me telling me everything was wonderful? I agreed with their developmental assessment from three months ago. This one doesn’t ring true. WFT.

Speech Therapy

Well, another day has passed and again the speech therapist seems to think Tyoma’s autistic.  She sweetened it with a “But he would be clearly a very high functioning autistic”. 

Potty Training

Tanya expressed her ideas about toilet training.  I think she meant well, but it came out a bit snarky, anyway.  In Russia, she explained, a mother's first job is to toilet train her child.  She said it was very important, especially since blankets and sheets had to be washed.  Pampers changed all that she lamented, since it is so easy to let them go.  She even asked for a potty and to start training. 

Is it just me, or does that sound like a sly way of her saying that I don't know what I'm doing?  I don't want to think that way, but I feel it.  My own research tells me that you can "train" but that you will not be accident free until a certain internal milestone is reached.  I don't think that he's anywhere near ready and that putting him on the potty will freak him out. He won't sit for it.

So she wants to try. I don't care.  I talked to TF about it, he said get the potty, let her do it, and ignore her.  He also said that I should ignore her drama over Tyoma's crying, because it's not about me, it's about Tanya and how she feels.  This maybe true, but I can feel the tension and it makes me feel like a prisoner in my own home.  It's been less than two weeks and I am ready for her to go back to Moscow.

Naps

I am about to loose my mind. I feel angry, frustrated and a teeny bit hopeless. 

Tyoma is having trouble sleeping.  He won't nap during the day and he's waking up at night.  I remember sleep problems last time Tanya visited, but that was long ago.  He's older now.  But as soon as she visits, his behavior is whack.  It seems like he can't sleep because he gets too excited.  He needs calm and quiet, or just to be ignored until he cries it out.
It seems like sleep always gets messed up when Tanya's here.  I think it is because she does not respect my way of doing things.  When he was a baby, I'd have to shoo her out of his room at night and during the day. She disrupted everything. I dunno, it just seems like I need to be doing the same thing I always do for sleep and when she's here he cries more and he's upset more. But we must keep to our little schedule that he is used to, otherwise it makes it worse and he gets even more wound up.

She tells me that she raised two boys and that she knows.  Well, I've done a fine job raising Tyoma who slept just fine before you came, thankyouverymuch. I have little clouds of cartoon steam coming out of my ears now.  I hate drama in my home.  I hate that she makes a big deal of swishing out of her room on to the back porch so she can't hear him cry. Ugh.

If that was not bad enough, he's skipping his nap. So now he's not sleeping during the day and he's having trouble sleeping at night.  It's just getting worse. The move was easier on him than her visit.  I think because I was in control and I didn't change any rules to placate her.  I hate that she dramatizes his crying as if I am killing him. Its all about her and how she feels and not about how we do things  here and keep order. 

No one listens to me. TF stays uninvolved. I am making an appointment with a pediatrician to get some support. Grrr, grrr, grrr.

$@&%!!! Swamp Cooler

What a day. We've been having problems with our swamp cooler since the start of the season.

On, off. On....Off.  Algae smell. Algae smell. Hot air. Off. Blech.

Marilyn Manson said it best, "I don't have enough middle fingers."

French Open

Today was insane. It started out at six a.m. with a fussy baby. I put him down learly ast night since he skipped a nap and  because I wanted to race over to Ewbliette and Brotherkurt’s, A.S.A.P for game night. Of course, I raced back home less than two hours later, but that’s another entry. I promised to be up at the crack of dawn this morning to provide TF with annoyance-free French Open viewing.

Transfixed by the match, Tennisfiend rooted for the Swede, Roger Federer. This was a much anticipated match in our household. TF fretted with the rake out back during commercial breaks and coughed nervously during important points. Tension is contagious to me, so I stayed well away. Despite my best efforts to keep baby quiet, he fussed noisily and skipped his morning nap. At lunch I noticed that two more teeth were coming in. That is a total of SIX teeth in the past three weeks!!! Yikes!

Exhausted by the match and dissapointed by Federer's loss, TF took a long afternoon nap, while I coped with squirmy baby. It was too hot to read or play in the house, so we trekked outdoors and played near a sprinkler. After TF woke up, I plunked naked baby in the issy-pissy pool and patted papa on the head, saying, “He’s all yours.”

The swim distracted baby and relieved mama. I used the time to puree baby food and listen to music. Post swim activity included MORE fussing followed by a gargantuan poop; necessitating two for clean up (unless I hosed baby off by the roses). After I put baby down to sleep, I drove to the local specialty store and bought sushi and white wine. Ahhhh!

Baby Stuff

Return of the Mommy-Blog! Squirmer missed his morning nap and fussed until he conked out for an extended afternoon nap. Tooth pain was certainly the culprit. His second nap was an Elysian respite for mum and dad. I took this time to relocate his baby play arena in the sunroom by my computer, imagining that he would cry less if I was in full sight.

Anyway, this was a brief and annoying experiment. The acoustics of the sunroom are such that baby seems to be positioned two inches from my ear with a megaphone. I found that each minute in the playpen incrementally boosted by aggravation to an unprecedented level of pissiness. The playpen is back in the library.

Hail Storm

I passed a few wonderfully pleasant hours with Ewbliette today, ostensibly to help decorate for tomorrow’s monster wedding reception. Instead, we had an amiable gabfest and I trundled home to spend a quiet evening with Tennisfiend. Baby fell asleep early and easily, so the two of us read drowsily until the weather turned really bad.

I suppose the ordeal originated with sharp, gusting wind. Then again, house-shaking wind is so commonplace; we ignored it. When I heard the first few “pops,” I was curious but unfazed, until I realized what it was—hail! As the pops became bangs, I raced out into the storm to pull my precious SUV into our garage, nearly taking out a portion of wall and barely missing Tennisfiend’s feet.

The instant I turned off the engine, the hail transformed into a solid sheet of water, a heavy and violent deluge. We had only an instant to think of all that needed to be done to rescue our sunroom from an unprecedented flood. TF swiftly sealed the backdoor with duct-tape as I wrangled the industrial mop bucket into position and tossed last weeks flood towels on the floor. Donning my dad’s gortex jacket, TF situated our water transfer pump out the porch window to prevent water from inundating the sunroom via the dog door. I snapped the above picture right before water began to slither in through the back door, despite the duct taping.

Actually, we’ve endured worse downpours. The water only rose two inches above our back door, dampening but not soaking the sunroom. Plus, not a drop seeped in from the dog door. On an even brighter note, I won’t have to water my garden for a week!

Just between us sexy bitches...

The week before Tanya arrived; I had a nagging suspicion that this would not be a peaceful visit.I had overheard her quizzing Tennisfiend over the phone. She was concerned about how I fed Tyoma. Why was I giving him finger foods so soon? Why wasn’t he was eating (cow’s) milk or wheat products? Was he sitting up when I fed him? And so on.

I took a deep breath, attributing the session to her pre-travel nerves. Her last visit had left me feeling frazzled, but I attributed that to my then undiagnosed PPD. So, she arrives and is as sweet as ever. During her first hours here, she brings up her concerns about his diet. She repeated four times that TF ate wheat and cow’s milk products from his third month on, and that it is very healthy and necessary for growth. I thanked her each time and responded that it is too early to start him on such a diet according to my pediatrician (and my own copious research).

The next day, she brought it up again and I was visibly aggravated. I suspect TF spoke to her, since she did not bring it up subsequently. Two days later, a major blow-up occurred over Tyoma. Tyoma was protesting over being put to bed.  Fontessa is a “no cry” person. I am a “some-cry person.” We butted heads. She told me she knew about babies and that I didn’t understand--my baby needed to be comforted and she would take care of him. I replied that it was typical of him to cry for a few minutes before falling to sleep, especially after a stimulating day, so please leave him alone. It got ugly.

I’m not going to re-hash all that happened, but the end result was a tearful apology to me. I find such emotional turmoil insufferable. I prefer logical, rational discussions. Brrrr. During her last visit, we had some minor control issues. I frequently felt monitored by the Secret Police, but this was new. Anyway, this scene set the tone for the next two weeks.

We had another battle a week later over Tyoma. Again, I’ll spare you the details, but I was spitting mad. She got into my face and continued to harangue me about what she thought was right for the baby. After she locked herself in her room I tried to calm myself down, but wound up absconding with Tyoma to my parent’s place to cool off. It’s been years since I was so pissed off. Afterward, we had another happy family reunion, this time without the tears.

Was I beginning to detect a pattern of drama/reconciliation? TF did tell me that a hallmark of his mother and step-father’s relationship is a three hour long passionate argument, accompanied by tears, slammed doors and joyous reunions. Nonetheless, they love each other very much and are very, very happy. The hallmark of our relationship is a long tranquil evening spent reading, gardening, or sharing a movie; often punctuated by rational discourse or random goofiness. We, too, love each other very much and are very, very happy.

TF observed that the beyond the obvious differences in dramatics, we differ in the amount of tolerance we have for each other. No one is trying to change anybody in our home. TF reads philosophy books non-stop, while I am a Richard Dawkins kind of gal. We listen to each other, applaud the other’s insights and go back to our favorite pursuits. No one gets into the other’s face to make them think or act differently. Maybe it transcends interpersonal dynamics and becomes a matter of culture. TF said that such heated discussions are a part of the Russian way. Hmmm.

Anyway, back to the Fontessa story. After the second incident, she ceased to impose her baby-raising beliefs on me, avoiding me whenever a conflict might arise. Tennisfiend would remove her from the house as needed.  She could not bear to hear Tyoma cry. This irritated me, because it is not about her, it's about what is best for Tyoma in the long run.  A great deal has changed in baby raising over the decades, not to mention the differences in culture.

She says, "I raised two sons!"  This gives me pause, but there is a great difference between E and his brother. And E was raised in part by his grandmother, since Tanya worked. I don't think she was a bad parent. I just think that her time to parent is over and I resent that she doesn not trust me and that she tries to impose her will on me with theatrics.

TF and I reached an agreement concerning her next visit: only three weeks long, with a focus on the quality of her time rather than the quantity of her time here (I came to this conclusion after my second needy visit to Ewbliette, who suggested that paying more special attention to Fontessa would cure all my ills—she was 100% right).

In conclusion, I don’t want to give the impression that Fontessa was an impossible woman. As my Dad said, “It’s not like she’s Hitler.” Aside from the above events, she was quite sweet; cooking TF’s favorite meals, sewing plush decorative pillows, and helping me with the gardening. It’s just that I felt on edge around her more than was necessary and I became suspicious of her instigating incidents to meet her level of drama/attention. Ultimately, I think I need a few weeks to digest the whole visit. I think I especially need to look at myself and not blame her for all of the conflict.

Tanya's Coming!

Whoa! A surprise for everyone! Tennisfiend brought me Fontessa's flight schedule today.

She'll be here the last week of April through the last week of May. I suggested that she come earlier or leave ealier since it is often in the upper 90s in late May.

I feel like this was visited upon me, rather than mutually and agreeably decided upon. Oh, well. With partial and even no paychecks, we've got bigger fish to fry. Jeeze, I gotta clean house.

AC Out

Spring is upon us, and summer impends. A few unseasonable spikes of hot temperatures make afternoons prickly and nights uncomfortable. This is why we started up our swamp cooler a month ago. Nothing is more unpleasant than servicing the cooler in a sudden heat wave, especially if it’s windy.

We’ve enjoyed almost a month of fine cool air at the flick of a switch until yesterday. I turned on the AC. Whackada whackada whackada. Gnrrrrrr. Nngrrrrrr. WHUMP. Total silence. The engine died. Tennisfiend came home an hour early from work to inspect the problem.

I called repair shops only to discover that they won’t service a motor that is crimped closed. At nine p.m., TF pried the damn thing open and tried to repair it. No luck. Several phone calls today revealed that we would have to order a new motor. ONE place has a motor that will fit our ancient machine. It will be here next Thursday, one day before TF’s mom arrives. House cleaning will be very sweaty.

Problems at Work

So, we are on a reduced paycheck for the next few months. I knew we had to watch our money and there are certainly expenses with the little one, but this is sounding scary.

It's not the first time that we have had troubles with E's company. But we had to have a little talk to decide what we are going to do. Just how long are we going to stay at a reduced salary? When do we cut our losses and move on? I want answers to all these questions, but E doesn't have them yet.

It seems like someone decided that now E has bought a house and has started a family that we won't leave the company now. We need make some firm decisions and soon.

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!

No House Guests, Please

I've been a cranky hormonal mess. In November, the acne freight train,  dropped off twin parcels of cheek pimples and a load of painful chin bumps. I'm better now, though still freaked out over using anything but the softest rain water on my face for fear of baby contamination.  Too much in the news about autism and other developmental problems for me to use shampoos with sulfates or even shaving cream for my legs.

Oh, no! I think that I just realized what's making me irritable! Lack of 21st century chemicals. Well, after baby is born and I've nursed him for a year I'll  go rub my body in Pantene and Twinkies.

So, last night Egor told me that he wants his mother to come here and stay for a few months of my pregnancy. My first reply was, "Oh, hell no!"  I am so totally spazzed out over the slightest thing that I can't imagine having to get the house ready for a visit plus entertain his mother,  in Russian, for two months. My mom is handling me with kid gloves, Patricia shovels big buckets of sweet sugar on me, and I'm still a mess.

But, E said how much it would help me and him. He said I needed her and most of all,  it would mean so much to his mom to be a part of my pregnancy. I cried, I wept, but I eventually said, "Okay, if you really think we need it." 

He called and gave them the green light.

I could not sleep that night. I really, really really did not want his mom here. At all. Until after the baby is born. I can't even put my reason in words, it just feels like it would be too much stress. Stress for me, not so bad, but stress on my baby is unacceptable. So I cried and cried and pleaded and he called the family and told them it would be too hard for me. Everything is okay, now. But I get the impression that they don't understand why I don't want company. I just don't. I'm not that person. I am a happy book reading, TV watching, writing little hermit.

Amnio Results, For Real This Time

Results were supposed to be in this Wednesday. No results. Waited till Thursday to annoy the clinic, “Results today, for sure, Mrs. Fiend.” Ack! I worked on the computer with the phone perched six inches away from me. At 10:00 a telemarketer called. I replied viciously, venting six years of the aggravation, frustration and nastiness that I stockpile exclusively for people trying to sell me crap over the phone.

At noon another marketing company called wanting me to answer a survey. I fumed. I decided that those bastards from Ikea sold my phone number despite my written request to withhold it. I will send them such a vituperative letter. Anyway, at 12:30 Tennisfiend called, “Are the results in?” Poor sweet guy, I was cross with him. Ten minutes later, my Mom called, “How are you doing?” Poor woman, I was practically hysterical with her.

To empower myself, I bounced phone calls back and forth to Women’s Medical for the next two hours. At three thirty, a harassed receptionist called me to say that the fax arrived, and that all the results were normal. No Down’s Syndrome, Trisonomy 13 or other serious birth defects.

What a relief! I was so grateful and effusive with my thank-yous that I almost made the receptionist feel less annoyed. At last I feel like this is a “real” pregnancy. After three miscarriages, I can't begin to describe my joy over the positive test results. Now to make amends to my loved ones and order a truckload of maternity clothes. Yay!

How Not To

I’m aggravated. Sometimes I wish I could post a little list of helpful hints to guide people as they are searching for how to help me when something stressful and important hits my life.
So here’s my little bit of bile:

1. Please do not tell me how worried you are for me. Suck it up. I am already worried enough for both of us. Most of the time I can find a good mental spot where I am calm. Telling me you’re so worried for me really shoves everything in my face and increases my stress level. Instead, ask me if you can do something to help. 2. Don’t deliberately time a major flake out over your own enduring problems to coincide with my difficult time. Weeping over the phone to me about your life sucks out my energy. You don’t need to dramatize some other aspect of your life to compete with my problems. It’s disrespectful and selfish. Sheesh. I'm so bitchy, I can barely stand myself. That’s all.

Amnio Results

It's so hard to write with everything going on. I'm having trouble sharing my anxiety and fears. My worry over the baby being okay is surreal. I could spend all day obsessing over terrible incidents. There seems to be no limit to the circles of worry winding around my brain. and there is absolutely no end to the horrible things you can find on google. I pray that birth brings an end to this crushing anxiety and obsession.

Today, the amnio results were supposed to come in, but unfortunately the bit of blood that contaminated the sample will delay the results for another six days.

Five minutes after Loretta called me, I panicked, thinking that I would have to repeat the procedure. After a twenty minute Internet search, I broke down and called her. No, I won’t have to retake the test. Whew.

It's so hard to write with everything going on. I'm having trouble sharing my anxiety and fears. My worry over the baby being okay is surreal. I could spend all day obsessing over terrible incidents. There seems to be no limit to the circles of worry winding around my brain. And there is absolutely no end to the horrible things you can find on google. I pray that birth brings an end to this crushing anxiety and obsession.

It would be so much better if I could talk to someone. Egor shuts down and I feel that my mom has been freaking out non-stop since I got pregnant, adding to my stress. Thank god for Patricia, but I don't want to become her Charlotte, invading her tranquility with my non-stop preoccupations.

Pool Pity

This week flitted by without making me blink, until last night.

We decided not to repaint the pool until next fall/spring. Devastated, I debated with Tennis Fiend for over an hour until we reached the point where he said, “If you really want it repainted this season, we will.” Naturally, I replied, "No, you're right, let's wait." Sigh.

The conflict arose from his new work responsibilities, which thwarted our DIY pool renovation plans. To finish the job, we must hire someone and that will be expensive. I will dearly miss the pool. Full moon evenings and fireworks will be less glorious without it to reflect serene and festive lights. Hot desert afternoons will be more oppressive and summer parties will lack the much-loved riotousness of Marco Polo and bellyflops.

Most of all, I will miss the concept of a finished pool. Few things are more odious than major projects left undone for months on end. It reminds me too much of my parents. At my folk’s house, under every sink lives a cluster of bleach bottles, but lurking elsewhere, uncompleted household projects burgeon. I remember my high school days, when our family cooked on a single burner stove from Kmart for three years after the demise of Mom’s favorite GE range.

The perfect replacement could not be easily found. When finally located, the fancy gas range sat in the garage for a year until the perfect installation specialist was located. Recently, my folks spent a year without carpeting. The house could not be re-carpeted until the cement floor was properly sterilized (a two-week exercise in OCD ecstasy).

After seven months of living with bare cement floors, I dragged my mother to the carpet store and bought them the carpeting required to finish the job. I made sure to have the workers come the very next day and requested an army of furniture movers, not wanting to leave room for a single excuse or delay. Despite the new carpeting, Mom and Dad have still not moved back into their bedroom, preferring to sleep on a floor-bound decrepit mattress in the TV room.

Yes, you guessed it—they must buy the perfect bed before moving back into their old room. Sheesh. So, that’s why the idea of leaving the pool unfinished for a year freaks me out. Ultimately, I realize that waiting is the best policy. I am resigned to the postponement of our project, although I’m still feeling a bit sorry for myself. I think a Tim Burton movie marathon is in order.

Getting It Out of My System

I don’t like to write about my worries, but sometimes I find that I can write nothing until I address them somehow. So, dammit, I’m going to get this over with by listing what’s been bothering me of late.

1. I’m damn tired. My doctor ordered blood tests to check for problems (i.e. anemia, since I hate green freakin’ leafy vegetables). Everything came back fine, but I am such a hypochondriac that I stressed myself needlessly for two whole days. Sheesh.
2. My serious conversation with Mother two weeks ago about her seeing a doctor for a simple check up (she hasn’t had one in many years) did no good. She is already backing away and making ridiculous excuses. I could pull out all of my hair, plus some of hers, too.
3. Tennisfiend’s younger brother is having some serious health problems in Russia. Andrei’s condition is not life threatening, yet his quality of life has been dealt a serious blow. Poor kid.
4. Petty annoyances have been conspiring to bombard me all at once. I’ve had my fill of Netflix shipping problems, insurance company incompetence and those check loosing fools at Wells Fargo. And if one more f***** from the police/fire/sheriff association calls to pressure me into another donation, I’m going to commit a crime just to spite them.

Whew. All done, I feel much better. On the bright side, Tennisfiend and I finally bought a new TV for New Years. We wound up buying a modest HDTV instead of the lottery-winning monstrosity we lusted after two month ago. A quick call to Comcast and we added a small handful of HDTV stations to our programming.

Our first morning with the new TV set up, we gazed slack-mouthed at Discovery HD’s Sunrise Earth, which featured an hour of nature footage in the Florida Everglades. It was so serene; I expected to be euthanized any second