Uno's song

Apparently she's learning this song in Primary, but doesn't quite have it all down yet. Her version:

I hope they call me on a mission
To all the gospels that are true
To leech and teach and preach as missionaries do!


~RCH~

The diagnosis

Apparently it's simple bursitis -- inflammation of a bursa (a small fluid-filled, pad-like sac that reduces friction between moving parts like bone and skin, bone and muscle, bone and tendons, or tendons and muscles) in my knee. Sometimes referred to as "housemaid's knee," which seems vaguely insulting but whatever.

The likely causes are first, as I figured, too much front-loaded weight, and second, the fact that I change Dos's diapers on the floor while kneeling. (Another reason to try again with the potty training -- she's 3yo, for Pete's sake; why are my kids always so late? -- except that it seems pointless with a new baby on the way. Don't they universally regress or something? Ugh.)

The pain is getting worse, not better. I'm seriously considering a little trip to the drugstore tomorrow to buy a cane; that's how hard it is for me to walk around. (I've tried to improvise with things from around the house already, but nothing is quite the right height.) The only problem is, my affected knee is my "driving knee" -- the right one, the one I use to press the break or the gas pedal. It hurts to hoist myself into the car at all, and it kills to bear any weight down on those pedals.

It's pathetic. Seriously. I feel like a bona fide cripple.

I've never had a difficult pregnancy before -- not remotely! -- and this one hasn't been, either, for which I'm grateful. Thanks to a solidly sedentary lifestyle, lol, I've never been prone to injury; I've never had a sprain or a broken bone or anything of that sort. I rarely even get sick! I'm not accustomed to feeling so debilitated. (And I guess it goes without saying that I'm not accustomed to pain, lol. It has turned me into such a cry baby.)

*Sigh!*

Anyway, that's the update. Bursitis. It hurts. I can't walk very well. Only a week and a half to go before I lose a chunk of weight (and gain a daughter!), and you can bet I'll be motivated to lose the rest if keeping the weight means keeping the knee pain. :-P


~RCH~

My pregnant knee

Have I mentioned my pregnant knee before? I don't recall. Whatever. I'm going to kvetch again (or for the first time) on this subject so bear with me. :-P

I guess it's not unusual to experience joint pain after having gained a lot of weight in a short amount of time (like, say, with pregnancy), but for some reason only my right knee got the memo about my 30+ pound increase.

The pain -- which has come before and gone, so maybe there's hope -- has intensified over the last three days to the point that I'd rather walk around like a peg-legged pirate than bend my knee. (DH says that instinct is exactly the wrong thing to do; it'll only stiffen the joints further if I don't use them. *Pppbbfftt!*)

I can't sleep at night. Which isn't anything new, lol, but now it's not because of the frequent trips to the bathroom or the impossibility of finding a comfortable position with a 30-lb sack of potatoes permanently strapped to my midsection (not to mention the paranoia about staying on my left side to avoid squashing some critical blood veins -- whatever!). It's this pressure in my knee that keeps building and building as if it wants to pop, but it never does and no relief ever comes.

I take as many acetaminophens as I possibly can (cursing the pharmacy gods all the while that I can't take some decent pain killer like ibuprofen ... or better, wink-wink). I bought an adhesive heat wrap that I tried for the first time this morning; my knee felt nice and cozy warm for the few hours it stayed put, but the heat did nothing to ease the intensity of the pain.

I've got less than two weeks to go (HOORAY!) so even if this knee pain doesn't relent or at least lessen on its own, as it has in the past, I have hope that the loss of some of this weight will help. My knee can't stay pregnant forever, right?

OWIE.

On the bright side, my girls are treating their poor mother very well today. Uno keeps drawing me Get Well Soon pictures and Dos wants to kiss my knee and see my "scabbage" (her word for scab; I've had to tell her several times that the hurt is on the inside of my knee so there's not much to look at). What nice kids I have. :-)


~RCH~

Not exactly feelin' the love

Holy cow. The wackiness of Mormon Corridor Relief Society lessons continues.

Those of you who attend the LDS women's auxiliary church meetings will recall that today's lesson was on achieving an honorable, happy, and successful marriage. The nuclear family is viewed as the most fundamental unit of the church, so of course a successful, gospel-centered marriage is the ideal to strive for. No problems with that.

I did have a problem a few months ago when, visiting the church I grew up in, the RS lesson veered off whatever course it was supposed to be on and instead focused on why it's wrong -- nay, evil! (cue spooky music) -- for girls to marry much later than the age of 20. Obviously you're succumbing to the temptations of the devil and the diversions of our wicked secular society if, within a couple years of graduating high school, you haven't snagged a man. One poor newlywed even confessed with some embarrassment that she had planned to marry "late" so she could gain some life experience on her own -- 22 was her target age (22!!!) -- but luckily she came to her senses / repented and got hitched sooner.

Aaaaaiiiieeee!

I also had a problem with the presentation of today's lesson in my own Relief Society. After the teacher's brief introduction of the topic, a sister in her mid to late 50s raised her hand to ask how someone like her, who has never been married, might still get some value from the subject. The teacher gave the standard reply that those who do their best to live righteous lives won't be denied any blessings in the hereafter. Okay, fine answer so far. But she kept talking: "Whatever people's individual failures are, though, we have to speak to the ideal. Marriage is the ideal and that's what we're talking about today."

She continued to use the word failure throughout the lesson to refer to people who have never married and to those who are or have been divorced (which includes at least one member of our RS presidency).

I couldn't believe it. Neither, apparently, could the sister who asked the question; she was stunned into injured silence for the rest of the hour.

I felt relieved when another woman raised her hand and tried to steer the conversation gently into more rational waters. She explained that, while she and everyone else in the room knew that marriage was important and desirable, a distorted emphasis on the principle could be very damaging: She had been married for 21 years to an abusive husband but she stayed because she thought she was supposed to. She felt that her choices were [a horrible] marriage or spiritual oblivion. Besides, her husband held the priesthood so, beatings aside, she must have been living the ideal, right? The best of all possible worlds. She finally did leave, but not soon enough to save her children from the example of their father; she wonders if they would have remained active in the gospel if they hadn't had his negative influence so centrally in their lives. (The member of the RS presidency had a similar story to share.)

Now obviously, I'm a believer in the principle of marriage. I'm a fan. My own marriage (though wickedly entered into at the ages of 30 for DH and nearly 26 for me) has on the whole been a happy one, despite the expected ups and downs and stresses of life. I long for the eternal family that my temple sealing promises contingent on our remaining faithful.

HOWEVER.

I think there is some serious and damaging baggage attached to discussions of marriage within the LDS culture. Particularly here in the heart of Mormondom, where the purities of faith have had a hundred years and more to stew into hollow tradition and folk doctrine.

I don't begrudge anyone their early marriage -- everyone has their own path, and for some it's precisely the right thing to do -- but I hate that I felt like an old maid at 21. (Not that I had any prospects then, but for the record I would have made anyone a disastrous partner at that age.)

I hate that certain people feel it's all right to pity -- and not only that, but to label as failures! Out loud! -- mature women with full and purposeful lives who haven't made that proverbial trip down the aisle or knelt at the altar. (I confess I fully expected this to be me.)

I hate that there are women who, feeling the intense pressure to be one half of a couple, would subject themselves to abuse rather than face life as a faithful single woman in the church.

It's wrong, wrong, wrong.

The ideal of an honorable, happy, successful marriage is a wonderful thing. The doctrine is sound and good but the cultural lens through which so many people see it is insanely distorted. How could it not be when, instead of spending a pleasant hour focusing on how to develop more Christlike relationships (which could apply just as easily to friendships, for those who live in different circumstances), we spent nearly the entire lesson chastising each other for perceived failures that are more accurately described simply as different paths? None of us will travel the same road back to our heavenly home; our personalities, upbringing, opportunities, and challenges all vary infinitely. One thing we have in common, though -- male and female, bond and free, married and single -- is the command to love one another, to have compassion for each other.

Frankly I wasn't feeling that love today.


~RCH~

Tag!

So apparently we're playing tag, and I'm it (unless of course my seester meant her other friend with my name, lol). Oh well. Whatever the case, I now tag my best friends. :-P

1. What I was doing ten years ago:
   Ten years ago I was 22. It was 1997. Had I moved back from Happy Valley by then? I don't remember. I hope so, lol. I believe I was living at home, probably working temp jobs on my way to a real job....
   


2. Five years ago:
   2002.... I was pregnant with Uno. Maybe on bed rest for a few weeks, or maybe that was next month.... (DH says that was October.) Working as an assistant to intellectual property lawyers.
   


3. One year ago:
   You'd think I'd be able to remember at least that far, lol! Living in a new town, chasing after my two little chickens.... Busy days, but not much to report.
   


4. Yesterday:
   I can't remember what I did all day (wow, I need more sleep) but in the evening I took the girls to the homecoming football game. Our team, which had the game all sewn up until the last three minutes, lost. (With one minute to go, the other team tied. With less than that, they scored another touchdown; their ... touchdown guy ... ran all the way down the field with nobody anywhere near him, lol. And frankly I was glad because it meant no overtime and we could go home.)
   


5. 5 snacks I enjoy:
   Fruity ice cream (does that count as a snack or a treat?), chips & salsa, anything with avocados, apple berry granola bars, and cheese.
   


6. 5 Things I would do if I suddenly had $100 million:
   That's more money than I can fully wrap my brain around, lol. I would pay off all our debt, including mortgage and DH's educational debt. I would set up philanthropic trusts and trusts for the girls' education. Maybe for them generally, too, but that seems kind of scary (don't want them to turn into little Paris Hiltons!). I would travel, travel, travel. Maybe go back to school, myself. Who knows. Save the rest. I can't imagine it's possible to actually spend that much in one lifetime.
   


7. 5 locations I would like to run away to:
   Portugal, Brazil, West Texas (I still miss it sometimes), NYC, and my cozy bed (assuming I could feel cozy in it).
   


8. 5 bad habits I have:
   I'm lazy, I don't floss as often as I should, I never answer my phone (more a pathology than a bad habit, but whatever), I eat junk too often because it's easier than cooking, I lose patience with my children too easily.
   


9. 5 things I like doing:
   Sleeping (not that that's ever comfortable anymore, grrrrr), traveling, creating, hanging out with my family (both the one I came from and my more recently begun one), and playing with my girlfriends.
   


10. 5 TV shows I like:
    House, Heroes, the original CSI, HGTV's Design Star, and [insert trashy VH1 Celebreality series here, i.e.: Flavor of Love Girls Charm School, Scott Baio is 45 & Single, Rock of Love with Bret Michaels -- holy cow, they're bad, lol].
    


11. 5 things I hate doing:
    Talking on the phone, mopping the floor (I love my robot vacuum, so now I just need the robot mop!), folding laundry, socializing with people I don't know well or at all, waking up early, and playing outdoors in cold weather.
    


12. 5 Biggest joys of the moment:
    Listening to my girls tell about their days at school (they're soooo big!), watching Dos do her "angry dance" (it's hilarious) when the band plays at high school games, anticipating Ponybelle's arrival, spending time with DH (wow, adult conversation!), and having opportunities to be creative.
    

Okay, Mrs. McMitchell & K2, it's your turn!


~RCH~

Today is September 11th

...and I didn't even realize it until a few hours ago. How is that possible? (Well, too otherwise-occupied to turn on a tv, for one....) But now that it's occurred to me, I can't stop thinking about it, remembering that day six years ago and the weeks and months afterward....

I wasn't personally affected by any of the horrors of that day, but I still managed to be profoundly affected, if that makes sense. Any date I hear that's pre-9/11/01 -- the year someone was born, the year someone died, some historical event, whatever -- I reflexively think, "Wow, they didn't know yet what the world would become." It's become this morbid delineation in my mind: Before, and after.

I worked for an airline at the time. I was a secretary in the budgets department at TWA; our offices were at the Kansas City, MO maintenance hub. When the FAA grounded all flights, the airport didn't have enough room to house the planes so they sent some over to us. It was surreal: The complete silence in the sky for days (very weird when you work right near the airport) and all those planes -- American, United, Delta, Frontier, Southwest -- that weren't ours, lined up next to the TWA jets, just sitting there. Waiting for the world to get back to normal.

I cried for weeks, even at work. Which was fine; many of my coworkers did, too. Everyone understood. After two weeks, DH finally put a moratorium on the news because he was worried about the depth of my reaction. (The whole thing made him angry. It made me so, so, overwhelmingly sad.)

I'll probably avoid -- on purpose this time, lol -- any coverage of the anniversary tonight for the same reason. It's too overwhelming, even six years on. I can stand to remember my experience of September 11th, but I can't bear to watch the footage or hear the stories of the real people who experienced real horror and loss.

My heart and prayers go out to them, still.


~RCH~

Time for school!

I couldn't sleep. You'd have thought it was almost my very first day of preschool, the way those butterflies flitted around in my stomach all night long (or was that Ponybelle?). Every time I got up -- which, thanks to Ponybelle, was a lot -- my thoughts raced around:

School tomorrow. Will we wake up in time? Should I make her a special breakfast? That means I'd have to wake up even earlier. Will she be suddenly struck shy? What if it doesn't live up to her expectations? I hope she behaves herself. Will the other kids like her? Will she like her teacher? School school school!

Every time before coming back to bed, I'd peek in the girls' room only to find Uno sleeping peacefully, snoring away.

I woke up early, a victim of that restless energy that had plagued me all night, using the time to write an email or two and pick out some First Day of School clothes for Uno. (I don't usually choose her clothes, but come on, folks -- this was for posterity. She looks charming in pink and orange and mismatched patterns, or turtleneck sweaters paired with shorts, but on this very historic day I hoped she'd look a little more put together.)

When Uno woke up, I asked her what she'd like for breakfast -- absolutely prepared to whip up some homemade pancakes (from a Bisquick box, but hey) or scramble her some eggs. "I want Pop-Tarts, please!" she said with a grin. So Pop-Tarts it was. It's all "part of this nutritious breakfast," you know. :-P

We talked while she ate and I snapped pictures. I wish I remember now exactly what she said (I should have blogged sooner!), but I remember thinking a little wistfully how grownup she sounded. She's always been verbally precocious -- a bigger vocabulary than she ought to have, and very clear diction almost from the beginning -- but this was something different. Her thoughts, not just her speech, sounded older to me.

I guess that happens eventually. Ready or not.

(But how could she? She's my baby, my first! I remember when she was born!)

She gussied up after breakfast and indulged me with a few more quick poses:





Uno excitedly gathered all her things before we left: Her Nemo backpack (which is technically a lunch pack, but whatever) and the folder you see above. The preschool teacher, Mrs. Jones, had brought folders over for each of the girls a week ago when she came for a little meet-and-greet. It contained information about the school for me, a picture of a bug for the girls to color and name, and an All About Me page which I helped the girls fill out. To fill in the blank after "I am good at __________," Uno had me write, "hopping on one foot, dancing, and spinning."

Side note: Dos, who had her first day of preschool later in the week (Uno will go M-W, Dos Th & F), had me write that she was good at "exercising, eating Cheerios, and buffalo hello-ing." I asked her for clarification on that last one and she waved her hand at me. "You know, Mom, saying hello to buffaloes." Ah, you've got to love the mind of a freshly minted three-year-old. :-)

After a few too many First Day photos (we were on-the-dot on time, but she was the second to last one to arrive), we hopped in the car and raced to the little house a few blocks away where preschool meets. I wanted to get a picture of her walking up the steps and over the threshold of this brave new world of academia into her teacher's living room, but my camera had jostled around in the rush and knocked the memory card loose. By the time I realized why the shutter wouldn't click and fixed the problem, she was already in.



I poked my camera in the door and took a couple more shots, and then Dos and I drove home to wait the two and a half hours to go pick her up. Dos moped a bit. And then she watched Scooby-Doo.

Uno walked out of school as the consummate cool kid, Nemo backpack in hand and finger guns a-blazin'! Obviously she'd had a good time, but I had to drag and pull the details from her on the drive home and throughout the day; I guess having lived the experience so recently, she didn't see the point in rehashing. But for the record: She met some kids and had snacks and played games and learned about bugs and about the weather. Apparently she even got to be the class Weather Person for the day. That's my girl!

And, inspired by her morning of creative and intellectual pursuits, Uno spent the afternoon writing and illustrating a five-page fairy tale (with all the requisites: princess, dragon, prince and magic pony) that she tucked in her backpack to give the teacher the next day. I don't think she'd been assigned to write a story (do preschoolers have assignments?); I think she was just excited about school and wanted to impress the teacher. Again, that's my girl! (And DH's, lol.)

I'll spare you the details of Dos's first day of preschool, a mere two days after Uno's, because they are remarkably similar (take my anxious energy down a notch and substitute Cheerios -- she's very good at eating them, you know -- for Pop-Tarts, and there you have it). But obviously Dos deserves a pictorial of her own, so you'll find that below.

*Sigh!* My little girls are growing up. :-)














~RCH~

Uno, 0w0d

I had Uno pose for some pictures this morning before her very first day of preschool (more on that in another post, I promise). She did some standard "look at me!" poses, showed off her school folder, etc., and then -- completely unbidden -- she did this:





Look familiar? LOL.

Dos often talks about the baby in her tummy (he growls when he's hungry); I don't think she quite gets the concept of pregnancy. Mostly yes, but the details for her are fuzzy. Uno, on the other hand, understands how it works (well, not the goriest of gory details, but she knows the baby is only in Mom's tummy) -- which is why these poses crack me up so much.

Kids are hilarious. :-)


~RCH~