Southern Hospitality-schmality

One thing I knew about moving to FL from OH was the fact that I had excellent prenatal care in the Midwest and had heard less than rave reviews about Southern care. I loved my crazy, cowboy, singing doctor in OH that gave me at least five ultrasounds and told me to go eat milkshakes and candy bars. We referred to the hospital where I gave birth as the country club as well. It's aesthetically-pleasing, clean, cherry wood piano-player-in-the-lobby facilities only had private rooms, and the day after leaving the hospital (which also offered mommy massages for the new mom) your very own nurse comes to your house to check on mom and baby. She was also a lactation consultant who came back twice to help me when I was having trouble with breastfeeding. I had a really great experience and was warned that it probably would not be the case here in FL. It seemed like we were always hearing about someone getting life-threatening infections in the hospital where I would likely have my next child. This was less than thrilling to me.

Yesterday, I finally had my first visit with my new OB (my first with Em was at six weeks, I'm now at ten weeks). I went in with a good attitude, excited to finally get this process started, and tried not to think back on how good I had it in OH. From the moment I walked in, things went downhill. I first had to meet with some new patient accounts person who told me that I would have to pay $719 by my fifth month of pregnancy, with adjustments made if I have to have more than one ultrasound. Ew. Our insurance at my husband's last company covered all but $250, which we were billed for after Emma was born. Makes sense to pay after the service is actually rendered.

Strike one.

I went up to the waiting room, where I waited...and waited...and then waited some more. After almost an hour of waiting, a nurse came out and apologized for the wait, there was an emergency. From what I could tell, someone had gotten sick in the back. Fine. I can handle that. But then I watched as every single person in the room was called before me. There were people there that had come in a good hour after me and went in before me.

So. Dang. Annoying.

Now, this was pretty much my first time out since I've been sick, and I had a sick little Emma at home that I wanted to get back to. As I watched the time tick by, the more annoyed I was. To top things off, I had an early lunch and wasn't feeling great. I reached my breaking point when the receptionist told me after my hour and a half wait, I would still have about thirty more minutes.

AHHHHHHHHHH.

I tried to control the tears as I called Matt to explain my woes, but there was no holding them back. This was not how my first appointment was supposed to be. FL, you suck. I think the receptionist overheard my breaking voice because five minutes later I was in the back, now having to explain to the nurse that really, I was fine, and didn't even know why I was crying. Ugg, except for the fact that the reason I was crying was that it's depressing being stuck in your house sick for a week and now my baby's sick and I miss my family and just want to go home for the holidays, dangit. I figured this wasn't the time to go into that, however.

So I waited some more.

Aaand had to pee.

That would be one of the first things I would do before an internal ultrasound, right, after pregnantly waiting for so long? Well that would just make too much sense. I asked for my pee cup and was given two alcohol sheets to wipe with. Whhaaat?? Um, strike twelve. Who makes a person wipe down there with an alcohol swab?? Not OH. Since the lab at this office was downstairs, I had to carry my cup around until after my ultrasound too. Thankfully, after asking about this, one of the nurses stole the cup while I was talking with the doctor and put it in a bag. Plus one point for her.

I finally undressed in the freezing room, and told the doctor that I hoped he had some warming gel because if not, we may have some problems getting this exam done. I was feeling pretty sassy at that point. He gave me an extra sheet cover. Finally, I got to see my little alien growing inside me and hear the little heartbeat. At ten weeks he/she has two arms and two legs, which is a good sign. I got my pics and headed downstairs to give my five vials of blood and call it a day. Three hours and ten minutes from when I arrived, I headed out into the now dark parking lot.

Ohio, there aren't a whole lot of things I miss about you, but when it comes to having a baby, you win hands down. With thirty more weeks to go, FL, you have a lot of catching up to do. Win me over, baby. Win me over.

I'm Pregnant..and am Surviving the Swine Flu

Now that I’m a survivor, I prefer to call the disease H1N1 because really, of all the nasty names you can come up with for a disease, throwing the word swine in front of it really trumps anything. I mean really, oh you have measles, mumps, gonorrhea (ok now that’s pretty nasty)?? Oh, well I have SWINE flu. You know, it originated with pigs. And to top it off, I just read that it not only has pig genes but bird genes, along with human genes making it a "quadruple reassortant." So really, I have the pig, dirty bird flu. Eeewwww.

Obviously, I did not heed the CDC’s warning to get myself vaccinated. I debated whether or not to. Given more time, I may have even been convinced, but saying you’ll be vaccinated and actually doing it is a different story when the vaccine seems nowhere to be found. Really, I don’t know a single person in my area who has actually received the shot. Chances are you’ve already had this pesky little flu or will get it sometime in the future, so to help you better prepare, let me share with you what it’s like. I’m sure you’re dying to know.

After returning from a run a few nights ago, I complained to Matt of discomfort in my chest, which we attributed to running in the cold. I mean, it had dipped into the sixties. Other than that I felt fine, went to bed and awoke the next morning to meet a friend at the gym. I felt a little weird when I woke up but figured exercise would do me good. The closer I got to the gym the worse I felt, and had to text my friend that I wouldn’t be coming and call my mother-in-law to see if she could take Emma while I slept this off. I was overcome with nausea and was sure it was just pregnancy hormones finally catching up with me. I dropped Emma off, went straight to sleep, and woke up throwing up and miserable. I couldn’t stop coughing (and puking) and suddenly my body was aching and I had awful chills (even though it was 80 degrees in my house). I threw on a sweatshirt and blankets and fell back asleep. Emma came back home to nap, as I fell back asleep and realized that this probably was a little more than just pregnancy hormones. I gave the doctor a call, and my symptoms and pregnant state gave me a free pass to an appointment (turns out they’re diagnosing most people over the phone). That evening when Emma awoke from her nap I was almost in tears at the thought of taking care of her feeling like this. Thankfully my mother-in-law is just a few minutes down the road and was able to take her (and still has her might I add). I slept most of the evening away and went to bed early. The next morning I felt quite a bit better and was off to the doctor. I was directed by my mom and pharmaceutical rep friend to demand a swab test, but thankfully they gave it to me willingly. So, my nose was violated with two long swabs, and I was told that even if the test comes back negative it doesn’t mean I don’t have the flu because it only shows up 50% of the time.

Sweet.

I went back to sleep and awoke from my slumber to find out that I indeed did have the dreaded swine flu. Gross. I headed to the pharmacy to fill my prescription for Tamiflu (after reading about it on the Internet and calling my OB for more confirmation that it was safe). By this time I was starting to feel pretty bad again, so I was thankful to get my meds from the nice pharmacist who also assured me that the CDC recommends that all swine-flued pregnant women take Tamiflu. Ok then. I took my pill and headed back to bed only to wake up an hour later to an awful afternoon of yacking my guts out. I went back to the pharmacy with the anti-nausea prescription that the doc had prescribed me but didn’t think I needed and proceeded to repeatedly vomit at the nice pharmacist's window. Embarrassing? I’d say so.

So, now I’m on day three and think I’m on my way back to the land of the living. I still get achy and tired and have coughing fits here and there, but the nausea/vomiting has subsided. I’ve been slowly trying to disinfect the house before Emma comes back home and sleeping a lot still. I woke up from an afternoon nap wanting food other than crackers or chicken noodle soup for the first time. A cold chocolate shake sounded so good, so I threw on a bra and headed out with my greasy hair to grab one. Unfortunately, I came home bawling because it didn’t taste good at all and fell asleep on the couch to my husband’s understandable confusion. After I woke up we headed over to his parents' house to pick up some soup, and I gazed in the window from the back porch to watch Em play. Turns out she’s doing fine without me. Tomorrow I think I’ll be ready and hopefully de-germed enough to pick up my daughter. Though now Matt is complaining of not feeling good. Ehhh, so it goes.

Keep Ten in Real Life, Shave If Off in Photos

At the gym yesterday, I read this article (not in Self, we'll come back to that though) about how when you're in your 60's it's actually healthy to carry around that extra ten pounds, making your BMI between 25-29%. I don't really remember the details, but something about how the skinny, um, mature ladies, were 23% more likely to die. I imagine there's probably a bit more to it than that though (details, shmetails). But anyways...

Cha-CHING!! Hello, guess who can't wait for her 60's now!? I think that's reason enough for 60 to be the new 20.

Because you know, I love how celebrities that are in their 40's and up are always saying, "Oooohh, I love who I am now. I'm so much more confident in my (enter old age) than in my 20's. I feel beautiful and so much better about myself now." Blah, blah, blah. Well hello, of course you're more confident now. As the ladies around you keep aging, you remarkably stay the same. There's a confidence booster for ya. A little nip and a little tuck. Silly celebrities.

Now to Self magazine.

Awhile ago, Kelly Clarkson was their cover model looking beautiful and confident and...skinny. It was quite obvious that the admittedly non-twiggy Kelly had been skinnified (it's a Hollywood insider term, thank you). Okay, this wasn't a surprise to me. Whatev. What really blew me away was the editor's response. If you want to read it, go to

http://www.self.com/magazine/blogs/lucysblog/2009/08/pictures-that-please-us.html

It's pretty long but worth reading if you don't mind your blood boiling a bit. I'll just give you the jist of it. Basically, she said that cover pictures are not meant to be accurate representations of reality but a projection of what your best self could be. She went on to say how she ran a marathon five years ago where she worked her butt off, but then would only put up pictures with her hips a little "shaved off." Awesome. Way to add to the ridiculous insecurities that women deal with on a daily basis, Self magazine. Instead of focusing on her hard work, shave off those dang hippos.

Ug, the madness.

So, the moral of the story and my new pregnancy goal:

Do not let myself get to the point where I have to Photoshop off chunks of my body.

Ohhh, to be 60.

Day at the Museum: Battle of the Besties

Last night, as I was putting Emma to bed, I told her that we were going to the Children's Museum tomorrow and would get to see all her little friends. To this she responded with her customary hand-clap and,"Yeeeaaayyy!!" I love it.

This morning I got her all decked out in her sweet butterfly-fairy costume and headed over to the museum. Not to brag buuut Emma is usually very good at playing with other kids. I mean, she's pretty even-tempered, and shares, well kind of, but generally, she does a good job. Of course, today (in honor of Halloween) when the museum is packed full of people, she chose to explore her, um, inner-devil-woman. Kids would brush against her and she would just scream at them. If they came even close to her toy, watch out. Then, on the slide, she was the terror-child cutting in front of all the other patient angels (and elmos...ahhaha) waiting their turn. So, I was that mom, intermittently disciplining and apologizing for my kid. Gotta love being on the other side of the my-child-that-you-don't-know is pushing your kid over fake, "That's okay..heh, " smile. Ehh. Oh well, such is life mothering an 18-month old.

She also had her first fight with her bestie. I mean, really, it wasn't her fault. She was just eating pizza with another boy at lunch. So, when D got up from his lunch to walk over to see her, little A got the glare that only jealous 2-year olds can give (who knew??). He proceeded to throw a tempter-tantrum or two, while Em played coy. Can't blame her though. I mean, a girl's gotta play hard to get once in a while. She was just reminding him what a catch she is.

Some pics?

Sure.

Pumpkin Patches and Palm Trees

Last week I got really excited when I heard a commercial for a fall festival complete with a pumpkin patch, corn-maze, and pony rides. Woo hoo-an opportunity to pretend that we actually have more than one season here in FL! We rounded up some friends and made the hour and a half trek to the farm by the beach.

The temperature was supposed to be in the mid to upper eighties, but I refused to wear anything but jeans. It just didn't seem right to be in a tank top and shorts. Good thing for me, I sweated so much that I didn't have to use the restroom all day because I think it would have been reminiscent of the Friends episode with Ross and the leather pants.

We pulled up and the first thing we saw was this:

Whoa- this ain't yo mama's punkin fest. This was complete with dirt bike jumpers and pumpkin tank launchers. Hey, I was just happy to see the tank flying an American flag instead of a the "Dixie Pride." In other words,

It. Was. Awesome.

I mean, I had to suspend my disbelief walking through the waist-high, green corn-maze, but other than that, it was fantastic. I mean, if you're into hillbilly bands, frog-jumping, and fire-juggling men on six-foot unicycles (which I am) than this is the place to be.

Actually, it can be quite scary being in a corn maze in FL. So scary, in fact, that it made moms go wild.

But thankfully our fearless leaders lead us out of the wilderness in time to catch

this rough and tumble group perform.

Emma danced her pretty little heart out and took time to share a laugh with her bff.

We saw some real dead-beats

and got spit at (we could have, at least).

After a long day, we rested in a pumpkin patch, which wasn't really a pumpkin patch but a tent with pumpkins placed under it.

Emma asked the nearest woman, "What the heck...doesn't a pumpkin patch imply that the pumpkins will be growing from the ground, waiting for me to pluck them from the vine?"

The woman kept her mouth shut and only blushed,

which sent Emma running back home to where the palm trees and pumpkins know their places.

The Main Events

Here's the thing. I haven't blogged in a couple weeks. It's not because we haven't had anything going on. Nope. Quite the opposite. We've been going and going and going and...well, you catch my drift. I've missed out on maaaany bloggy opportunities. Here's the problem- I'm so effing tired all the time! If I'm in the house, I feel like I'm going to drop dead unless I "just put my head down." So I've been "just putting my head down" a lot lately. Uggg. I feel so worthless. There's a million things that I have to do, I think, but I haven't really identified what they are. Um, is that a problem? Am I just going psycho? Could be. And my husband says I'm grouchy, which I can admit to here and there but really, I think he's extra touchy these days. Oh, and I want peanut M&M's like it's my job. I mean, I'm ravenous for them. In fact, as soon as Em wakes up, we're heading over to Publix to get some. I keep getting these weird craving for veggies too. I had an absurd amount of asparagus for lunch today. Yup, just asparagus. Who does that?? Oh, and to top it all off, I realized that I'm currently doing nothing to change the world. Awesome.

So, while I dwell on all my woes, here's some pictures of our last few weeks...

I spent a weekend with my three best friends of all time. We've been friends since 4th grade, (Colleen and I since we were 5) and I know it's the type of friendship that'll last till death do us part. Haha. But really. Even though we're so far apart, I know I could count on these girls to be there in an instant if I really needed them.

Two weeks later we headed out to the freezing state of Michigan for Matt's brother's wedding. We arrived at 11:00 PM and then drove two hours from Flint to Grand Rapids. Good thing I've molded Emma into such a good little traveler.

We put together many-a-programs and caught up on our reading.

And took time to check out the fall foliage on four-wheelers.

Emma practiced being a cute, well-dressed Finnish citizen with her studly daddy.


And took time to hang out with her funcle.



She was surprised to see Mickey and Minnie in Michigan!



And dreamed of being a beautiful bride...

while dancing the night away with her Prince Charming.

When the clock struck midnight she looked like this:

Ah hahaha...she's going to love this someday. :)

Sign Posts

From the time I was a little girl I've had this innate desire for something outside myself, a yearning that has made me realize that there's more to this life than just what I can see or touch. Sometimes it manifests itself through simple things like sunsets or being in a beautiful place. I think that's why I love traveling and nature so much. It reminds me of a greater story and makes me yearn to know the Author of this story. Literature, film, and music have always had this effect on me as well. Hence my reason for being an English teacher. All of these things are sign posts for me that point to the pursuing of a loving Creator.

Friday night we sat up in the nose-bleed section of a U2 concert, which was just an incredible event. Whether or not you like U2 I think it would be nearly impossible to attend their concert and not leave loving them. They just put on a fantastic show. I consider them a sign post band, and not only because of my love of all things Bono. Though I think his tinted-glasses and leather jacket are uber cool, I know his cool guy image can be annoying. I usually get annoyed by celebrities that use their status as a platform for whatever cause they choose to support because really, I don't care if their one-million-square-foot home is completely green and they own ten hybrid cars. It nauseates me. While I'm sure Bono is as big of a hypocrite as any other human, I do respect him for the work he has done on things such as the One campaign. From interviews I've read I think it's obvious where his passion for justice and unity come from. But, Bono is not why U2 is a sign post band for me. Yes, part of their sign post status does come from the plethora of biblical allusion and general themes of hope, redemption, and reconciliation that their lyrics offer. However, last night it wasn't about that. Sitting among thousands of people with music pounding throughout my body awakened that yearning for God and the reminder that He is working in our world. The reminder that He is a God that pursues us and sets us free. Maybe part of it was being in a stadium of over 70,000 people from all walks of life with all different stories, all singing "Amazing Grace." Did they all believe what they were singing? Nope. But someday. Someday, all will be made right. Someday there will be no injustice or hurt or pain or tears. Someday all knees will bow before my Jesus. Someday...

As I said, we were in the nose-bleed section of the stadium, so some of these pictures are taken by my friend, Rob Chestnut, who was lucky enough to be close enough to feel Bono's sweat drip from his leather jacket. Ridiculous.