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!