I may be pregnant, but I'm not made of freakin' glass!

Yesterday Vic's grandfather was giving me crap....he only speaks Spanish, but I got the gist of it. He was upset because I had the effrontery to stand on a chair while pregnant and he thought I would fall and injure myself and/or the baby. Now, I get that he was just concerned, but it pissed me off. I told him in my crappy broken Spanish that I was being careful and it was fine. (As an FYI, the chair was very sturdy, my feet were flat on it the entire time, and I was paying close attention to my balance as I cleaned the bookshelf.)

So two minutes later, I'm off the chair but he comes back to tell me once again I shouldn't do stuff like that. Once again, I tell him it's fine! I didn't have the vocabulary to fully express my feelings but I'm sure the angry, impatient look on my face tipped him off.

Then, yesterday evening when Vic's mom calls him, she starts telling him what happened and that I need to be more careful. I knew this would happen! No incident is too small for drama, with people pushing in where they don't need to. Vic has already listened to me grumble about this incident, and is on my side (or at least so he tells me) so he just starts telling her "Bye" on the phone. This is apparently his way of telling her he doesn't agree and doesn't want to discuss the topic at hand.

Of course, this call just pissed me off a second time and he had to listen to me rant about everything all over again....though I could tell he wasn't really listening to my repeated vent--just "uh huh"ing at appropriate moments :b

Next time I see his mom, no doubt I will hear about it for a third time. And I will go off! It'll make her mad, but I do not care. After 9 months, I am just soooo tired of being treated like I am a child, too stupid to be able to make decisions about what is safe for myself and my daughter and what is not. I'm pregnant, not broken!

Stupidity and S***

Last night I thought my head was going to explode.

It started off innocently enough, with an experiment in roasting a whole chicken. That process, while easy enough, set off a chain reaction of events, the first of which was getting tomato sauce on my white shirt. Last week it was ink on the same damn shirt....so I'm learning a lot about stain removal lol. Anyway, I changed clothes, pretreated the shirt, and threw it in the washer.

As the washer is running, Vic and I hear some odd gurgling in pipes and a few other strange noises. The gurgling appeared to be coming from the kitchen sink pipes, but there was nothing there. We also checked the washer hoses and they were fine too. So, we shrugged it off.

Fast forward about half an hour. I happen to walk into the master bathroom and find the toilet bowl full of water....and stuff (the smelly kind). Water is also on the floor. YAY! I immediately retreat from the stench, to the other toilet in the guest bathroom, where I find the toilet full of water and possibly urine. Great. Just great.

Now, perhaps we should have seen this coming. After all, the toilet in our master bathroom has been acting up for a couple months--not always flushing fully, even for just urine. But, blithely assuming all would be well and that eventually we would just pour some Rid-X down the toilet, we procrastinated and that worked out about as well as it usually does.

Vic calls the septic service, which apparently has an after-hours message service, so we have to wait for a call back. In the meantime, I pull the chicken out of the oven and set it on top of the stove. Being the genius I am, I attempt to take the metal lid off the roasting pan.....with my bare hands! Hastily replacing the lid, I yell in shocked surprise. I mean, who would've thought a metal handle would get hot after being in the oven for 90 minutes? Vic asks what's wrong and I have to confess my idiocy. I don't know where the hell my brain went. As my fingers begin to stiffen (they don't hurt much....yet), I decide to open the carrots and put them in the microwave before bothering to run my hand under cold water.....yet another genius move. After all, why NOT delay first aid? Now I am essentially one handed. Either my hand is soaking in water or (once I remember we have them) sitting on an ice pack for the remainder of the evening.

Vic's parents show up--to help, ostensibly, but really just to listen to our septic story and further distract us as we finish cooking. However, by now, I have to pee....which, being 9 months pregnant, is never a remote concern. I ask Vic to drive me to his grandfather's house so I can use the toilet, leaving his parents at our house without so much as telling them we are leaving. He and I walk outside, and right then, the septic service calls back. So he stands there, talking on the phone, while I am shifting from foot to foot, and blowing on my burnt fingers, which are stinging like mad due to lack of cold water (I hadn't yet remembered the ice packs). So I'm making faces like "let's get in the DAMN CAR!!!" and Vic, who is just trying to concentrate on the phone call, is waving me off with a harassed look on his face. This did not go over well, to say the least. Finally he gets in the car and drives me over to the other house while still talking on the phone. Aaaahhhh....sweet relief!

After we return to the house (septic guy will arrive in an hour), Vic talks to his parents for awhile as I sit inside and nurse my hand. Finally, he comes inside and says he excused himself. Translation: he told them to go away. We decide we might as well eat the food we cooked. Vic carves the chicken on a cutting board. Tomato sauce is EVERYWHERE...it's the recipe's fault, he says. Can we clean it up? Not easily, as we can't run any water! So we use several trees in paper towel form to mop up the tomato sauce and clean the counter, which would stain otherwise.

It's now about an hour after we finished cooking, so thank god for microwaves!! Vic ends up cutting up my meat for me, since I can't use my left hand and it's not quite tender enough for just a fork. Poor guy--as if he isn't stressed enough, I require dinner service :b

The septic guy arrives in due course, pumps the tank, which wasn't full, btw, and cleans out the portion of the main line that he can reach with the hose he has on hand. He tells us if we have any more issues, it's a clog further up in the main line and we'll have to call a plumber. After then relieving us of $250, he's on his way.

Clean up time. I had just cleaned the bathrooms the DAY BEFORE. Grrrrr.....but at least it made it quick and easy to wipe down the toilets, tubs, and mop the floors. Not fun, but easy. By now, I have to use the bathroom again (I'd already taken a 2nd trip to his grandfather's house), but thankfully, we have the joy of working toilets again! This is a convenience you never fully appreciate until it's gone.

After doing my business, I flush the master bath toilet....and it doesn't fully flush. Just like it'd been doing the past few months. So, while the immediate crisis is past, the problem is not resolved!! I have been able to run the washing machine without incident, but I know it's just a matter of time before I lose my toilets again.

Today, after much research, Vic has decided he will rent an electric sewer eel so he can clear the clog himself. I have grave reservations, but if it works, at least we won't have to pay a plumber! And if it doesn't, I'll have inspiration for another post ;)

New Blog

So, I just found a new blog to follow in my free time...it's about a woman's attempt to breastfeed her child. It's a pretty niche audience, I admit, but I'm in that niche, so it works out :) I am very nervous about breastfeeding my baby and I hope by reading her stories, I can a) relate and b) see how she overcomes the challenges that can arise.

Should you happen to be interested, you can find her on my blog list further down on this page, with the apt title of Milk Machine.

Choose Your Own Adventure

Wow, I didn't realize it'd been so long since I last posted anything....guess I haven't had much to say :)

Anyway, for those of you who miss "Choose Your Own Adventure", here's an updated (if morbid) version: http://www.slate.com/id/2223285/. I linked to the article so you can read it if interested before clicking on the link to launch the game.

It's fun, and gives people yet another way to waste time on the Internet, because there aren't enough of those!

Penne Pasta with Creamy Tomato Sauce

A very yummy recipe that I just tried tonight....it originally came from the Cook Yourself Thin show I guess. My neighbor tried it and passed it on to me.

Ingredients
2 tsp olive oil, plus extra
3 cloves garlic
1/2 cp chopped red onion
3/4 tsp salt
1 (14 oz) can diced tomatoes
Pinch red pepper
8 oz penne
1/4 cp heavy cream
2.5 oz evaporated nonfat milk
1/3 cp grated Parmesan
1/4 cp shredded fresh basil
1/8 tsp black pepper

Directions

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to boil for the penne.
2. In a large saucepan, heat the 2 tsp oil with the garlic over low heat until the garlic begins to brown, about 3 minutes.
3. Add the onion and 1/4 tsp salt, cover, and cook until the onion is softened, about 2 more minutes.
4. Add the tomato, 1/2 tsp salt, and the red pepper.
5. Bring to a simmer, reduce the heat, and simmer very gently for 10 minutes.
6. After the sauce has simmered for 5 minutes, add the penne to the boiling water and cook until just shy of al dente, about 6 minutes.
7. After the sauce has simmered for 10 minutes, stir in the cream and evaporated milk and simmer 1 more minute.
8. Drain the penne, reserving about 1/2 cp pasta water.
9. Add the drained penne to the sauce and simmer until the penne is al dente, about 1-2 more minutes. Add a little of the pasta cooking water if the mixture is dry.
10. Stir in 1/4 cp of the Parmesan, along with the basil and black pepper.
11. Sprinkle additional olive oil and Parmesan over the food if desired. Serve.

This yields 4 servings.

When we made the dish, we just used minced garlic instead of whole cloves, since that is what we had on hand. For the same reason, we substituted shredded Colby-Monterey Jack cheese for the Parmesan. It turned out really good!

Getting nervous....

You'd think someone who's wanted a baby for years and totally planned her pregnancy would be more excited than scared at this point. Sophia is due Sept 14 and I am just terrified. I don't have all the stuff I need yet, which makes me very anxious. The bigger issue, however, is I'm just not sure I'm going to be a good mom. I don't have the patience I think I should, nor do I particularly enjoy playing games with little kids. But I don't want to be one of those moms who resents their kids and parks them in the playpen in front of the TV all day either.

It probably doesn't help that I've been watching my neighbor's baby this week. He's a good baby, and a cute one, but needy. I don't mean he needs food or diaper changes or things like that, because those are normal and no big deal. It's that you can't put him down for a more than a minute before he starts crying to be picked up again. His mom carries him around all day apparently, and so he expects the same from me. I love holding and cuddling with him, but when he's crying because I have to put him down on the floor for 2 minutes so I can pee, it becomes a bit of an issue. Especially when I have to pee about every 25-30 minutes. Vic told me maybe I should try to break him of this habit, but I'm not sure it's worth it for only 2 more days of watching him. I don't think he'll learn that quickly and will just cry the entire time. If I were watching him for a longer period of time, I'd put up with that so he would learn, but it's hard to undo 11 mths of training in just a few hours. In any case, I feel a sense of relief when his mom comes to pick him up--which really scares me, as soon I'll have my own and no one will be coming to pick her up.

So, I'm just starting to wonder if having my daughter is going to be like this too. I'm hoping the whole maternal love thing will kick in so I enjoy being a mom. I feel a bond with her, but it's still more abstract in some ways than I expect it to be when she's actually here. At least I hope the bond will get stronger. And I enjoy being pregnant so much--rubbing my belly and feeling her kick in particular--but I'm not sure I'm ready for the actual child herself. I know that, ready or not, Sophia's coming in 2 months but it's just freaking me out!

A Rough Week

Last week my husband Vic and I flew up to Iowa to visit my parents. We needed this vacation, and were excited about seeing my family again. People in Florida often ask me what we do when we go to Iowa--no doubt they imagine cow-tipping and other stereotypical pastimes. And NO, I have never in my life tipped a cow! In any case, we go to Iowa to relax, so we spend most of our time sitting around and visiting. It may sound boring, but we always have a lovely time. This time we got to see my brother and his entire family, as well as an aunt I hadn't seen in 11 years, so it was pretty neat.

Unfortunately, this particular trip was cut short by a day, as we received some very bad news from Florida. Vic's grandmother, a lovely woman named Ofelia, passed away. This was a nasty shock, as you can imagine. She had been in the hospital while we were gone, due to a cold, swollen, painful foot. Obviously a circulatory issue, though we were (and still are) unsure as to the underlying cause. Vic was on the phone with his family every day to get updates on her condition, and as far as we could tell, the worst-case scenario would be amputation. Now, she was 86 years old, so that would've been hard on her and possibly the beginning of a decline, but we certainly did not expect her to die. The day before she died, the doctors were even discussing discharging her. Of course, the doctors and the quality of their medical care is a whole other angry story that I won't be posting, in case legal action is taken.

So, Sunday night, Vic got the call. I was outside talking to some friends until my mom came and told me I was needed in the house. When I came in, Vic was sitting at the table. He just looked up at me and told me she had passed. The look of anguish on his face...oh my god...it just broke my heart. Completely wrung it out...and that image has been haunting me all week. I can't get it out of my head. It makes me cry every time. I wish I could erase that memory instead of seeing it over and over in an exhausting mental loop.

Vic, naturally, cried himself that evening. I have never seen him cry before. He's held it together ever since, and truth be told, seems to be in better emotional shape than I am at the moment. How stupid is that? It's his grandmother, that he's known and loved all his life. I didn't even know his grandmother that well, as she spoke only Spanish and I know very little. But I have grieved for his grief and that of his family. Vic's mother and his grandfather have been the most visibly affected. I found out at the funeral that his grandparents had been married for 67 years--an amazingly long time, and I cannot imagine the loneliness his grandfather is feeling now. Vic told me later he was talking to his grandfather at the viewing and could see in his eyes just how lost he felt.

The viewing and funeral service was held in Miami on Wednesday. Nobody likes funerals, of course, but there is an undeniable feeling of closure afterwards. Not that we don't all still grieve, but it's a first step towards learning to adjust to life without the one we love.

Descanse en paz, Ofelia. Te extranaremos y estaras siempre en nuestros corazones.