I've decided

I still have every intention of having an unmedicated birth. But I want an epidural nonetheless - I just want it N.O.W. It's the only way I think I can survive the coming days or weeks (please be days...please be days...please be days). That or perhaps simply being knocked unconscious.

This message brought to you courtesy of being 36 weeks and 1 agonizing day pregnant.

Oh, the mortification

Maggie and I decided to have an idyllic little morning at the park today. We even drove the 15 minutes to the "nice" park to fully enjoy the mild late summer day we're having. All was going well, and Maggie was making lots of friends, as she does anywhere she goes.

The problem, however, is that Maggie is not very good at remembering names. (She got it from her mama.) When she forgets a new friend's name, she tends to simply call them "girl" or "boy." Or some days, she'll add a modifier to that to make it clear who she is talking to.

So the drama of our story today began innocently enough when Maggie made a little friend named Maria, who was wearing a white shirt and pink pants. They'd been playing together for awhile, but Maria decided to come visit her mother and get a drink of juice. Maggie was at the top of the tallest playscape, quite a distance away from Maria, and was apparently quite lonely for her companionship. So what did she Maggie yell alllllllllll the way across the park at the top of her little lungs?

"HEY, WHITE FRIEND! COME HERE!"

I nearly choked. I thought to myself, "I must have misheard her." But she put that notion firmly to rest when she proceeded to yell this at least 6 times. At this point, it became quite clear to me (and surely everyone else at the park) that she was indeed saying, "white friend." Humiliating enough at any time, it was quadrupled by the fact that she was no more than 10 feet from a black family and a white family with an adopted Asian boy.

Keep in mind, that *I* know she was referring to Maria's white shirt. Maggie doesn't have any concept of race. I'm sure she could pick up different skin tones on sight, but it's not something we've ever discussed with her because we believe in trying to raise her as color blind as possible. And, if you think about it, no child would instinctively call a light skinned person "white," because...well, we're not. We're pinky or peachy.

But I digress. The point is that none of the other parents knew this, and I can only imagine what they were thinking. So what did I do? I stared at my feet, cheeks ablaze, and pretended not to know her, praying fervently that it would end soon. I mean, really..what else was there to do? Should I have screamed back, "Hey Maggie, it's not polite to call someone "white friend!" I know you're just talking about her shirt, but everyone else here now thinks your parents are hood-carrying members of the KKK!"?

So I waited for her to come down one of the slides and then quietly called her over to me. I explained to her that it's not polite to call someone "white friend," because some people might think it means something other than what she meant. Which I'm sure was crystal clear in her little 3-year-old brain. But I truly had no idea what else to tell her. (If anyone else can tell me a better way to have handled the situation, please feel free to share!) I did remind her that her friend's name was Maria and that she should call people by their names. At the very least, that worked, and I didn't have to endure any further hollers to her "white friend."

But this is most certainly a park trip I will not ever forget.

Some observations on children's programming

The following ponderings are brought to you courtesy of Noggin and PBS Sprout. In no particular order:

1. Where the hell are Max on Ruby's parents? Is Ruby REALLY his sister, or is she his "much older sister"? Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. She certainly acts like she is his mother. Very suspicious indeed.
2. On the same note...where the hell are Dora's parents? Are they not the slightest bit concerned that their daughter roams the countryside, fending off scary things like crocodiles and trolls, all alone except for the companionship of a talking monkey? Shouldn't someone call CPS?
3. Does anyone else think that when Boots says, "Say, 'Map!'" the tone of his voice sounds just a bit too creepily like, "Say my name, bitch!"?
4. Do the Backyardigans live in a commune? Because where on earth are neighborhoods built with circles of houses that have facing backyards?
5. Will Ming Ming ever outgrow that speech impediment that is simultaneously endearing and grating? But leaning more toward grating.
6. Will the dragons on Dragon Tales get irritated with Max and Emmy one day and just decide to incinerate them with their fire breath?
7. Why must EVERY episode of ANY children's cartoon end with all the characters giggling an obnoxiously fake laugh together?
8. What on earth is Pingu supposed to be saying? What language is that? And am I the only one that thinks that if you close your eyes while it's on, it sounds vaguely like foreign masturbation porn? I mean COME ON. Listen to the sound his flippers make!
9. Do you think the adult stars of live action shows cry themselves to sleep every night? I imagine they all expected to be Broadway stars or Hollywood icons, and instead they find themselves singing stupid songs and pretending that they don't know how to read clocks for the gratification of a bunch of snot-nosed 2-year-olds?
10. Who wrote the theme song for "The Bearanstein Bears" show? Because whoever is capable of coming up with the lines, "They're kinda furry around the torso/They're a lot like you an' me, only moreso," NEEDS to be slapped. By me. Repeatedly.

Alarm! Alarm!

There's a spider on the ceiling! Directly over me! And no N home to kill it! Must move, must move, must move!

Gah, it just pounced on a bug! It's eating it! Oh no, the bug just tried to run away, but spidey caught it! Arrrrrrrgh! I signed up to watch a Notre Dame game tonight, not a live performance of the Circle of Life!

*shudder*

Have I mentioned I'm an arachnophobe? Seriously.

Public Service Announcement of the Day

If you are planning on mattress shopping while you are 8 months pregnant...don't. Unless you enjoy looking like a fool as you attempt to hoist your body off of each new mattress you try.

The more you know...

So maybe I live in this dimension after all...

Considering my recent post, I came across a rather interesting find today. N and I were digging through a box of "important papers," looking for M's vaccination records (preschool begins soon!), and he noticed a letter from my very first pediatrician's office. Thinking maybe it would contain shed some light on the half-alpha brain wave mystery, he dug it out and handed it to me. Unfortunately, this was not the case, but it did provide some interesting insights into the childhood seizure episodes I had.

First, I was under the mistaken notion that I didn't actually seize but rather that I simply blacked out. However, I found my mom's handwritten notes (boy, was that a strange feeling) about the seizures and discovered I was wrong. I only had two - about three weeks apart, when I was just over 2 years old - but they were true (if mild) seizures. During the first one, in addition to going rigid and jerking slightly, my lips turned blue! She also reported that my eyes looked frightened; I can only imagine what I must have been thinking. :( It lasted about 45 seconds. The second one was a bit milder: shorter and no blue lips.

At that point, they apparently put me on Dilantin and ran one or more EEGs. And this is where the contents of the letter actually comes in. It was dated July of 1981, a few months after we moved to a new town, and over three years since my two seizures. My previous pediatrician had written my mother a letter about my condition to keep with her medical records. I was absolutely SHOCKED by the contents! According to this letter, the EEG showed "clear" evidence of a seizure disorder, and the doctor hypothesized that it would likely get worse as I got older. He said I'd likely need frequent visits to a neurologist and a close eye on my medication dosages.

After reading that letter, I had to call my mom. I'd never realized that she and my father had been given such a dire prediction about my future. As a mother myself now, I can only imagine how devastated I would have been reading that news. So we chatted for awhile, and I finally understand a bit better how the half alpha brain wave thing fits in. She told me that a couple of years after the date of that letter, I had another EEG at a university lab. There, they discovered that the initial reading of my results had been wrong; what appeared to the untrained eye as a pattern indicating a seizure disorder was actually this half alpha anomaly. The doctor told her it was the first time he'd ever seen one himself; he'd only read about it in textbooks! However, he also assured her that there was no medical evidence that this brain wave caused seizures or any other kind of disorder. The two seizures I'd had back when I was two were either infant epilepsy or possibly even febrile seizures, but pure coincidence nonetheless. Since I had been seizure free for five years at this point, they decided to take me off the Dilantin and see what happened. Over twenty years later, I've never had another seizure!

So although I still can't find anything on google to explain better what this brain wave is, it seems that at the very least it was not all in my head. I guess I do have flashes of sanity.

5 Weird Things

I was just tagged by Nicki to do a 5 Weird Things meme. I am sad to say that I can't tag anyone else because, well, Nicki already tagged the only bloggers I know personally. So here is my meme, and if you're reading this and have a blog I don't know about, consider yourself tagged.

1. This one will come to no surprise to any of my current readership (being that I have an audience of about 5), but in case my blog ever really takes off (see: delusions of grandeur post), I want this one front and center. And actually, I don't consider it weird in the least, but I know most of America does. So I suppose this one falls less under the "weird" category and more under the "you might think it's weird, but it's really not" category.

I breastfed M for 2.5 years, and I plan to do so for at least as long with A. I have no qualms about breastfeeding in public. I selectively vaccinate my children, having chosen to decline Prevnar and the chicken pox vaccines for M and quite possibly some others for A. I won't even consider beginning solids until after 6 months (unless reflux is an issue). M slept in our bed until she was about 18 months old. Even now, at nearly 4, M sleeps in the same room as N and I, but in her own bed. (Although we're preparing to move her out to make room for A. *sniffle*) However, she's welcome in our bed at anytime. I don't spank. I'm planning an unmedicated birth. A will not be circumcised. I'm going to cloth diaper and babywear (ie, use slings, wraps, mei tais, etc.) A when he arrives. In general, I'm what some would call "crunchy."

But you know what? I'm not some crazy hippie. (Not that I have anything against hippies!) You'd likely never guess I did these things if you saw me on the street. Most people who know me think I'm a pretty normal person. (Erm, yeah...I'm gonna stick with that.) I'm tired of the media portraying people who do the things I do as a) unshaven, commune-living, society-shunning nutbars, b) religious zealots, or c) overachievers who are attempting to mold the most perfect child ever. I'm just a regular person who has done a lot of research and chosen to do the things that feel right for me and my family. I think if more people looked past the stereotypes and actually read the available research, they'd recognize that these are valid choices. That's not to say that they are the only RIGHT choices. But please don't brand me a lunatic because I nurse my toddler or don't believe that every vaccine is all that and a bag of chips.

2. And now onto lighter material. I love whiskey/whisky (yes, there is a difference). A friend introduced me to it last year, and I've found that when you drink it right, it's one of the most pleasurable drinks out there. The trick is that you have to move the drink directly to the back of your throat; that is where the flavor is right (and where it won't burn your tastebuds off). The beautiful, smoky taste at the back of your mouth just can't be beat. It also does a lovely job of numbing the throat and just generally inducing a sense of pleasantness when you have a cold! Take THAT Robitussin. I'm just sayin'.

Of course, it can't be just ANY whiskey/whisky; it must be a single malt for true quality. I haven't had the money or time (especially since I've been pregnant for the last 7 months) to experiment with different brands, but I do love The Glenlivet and of course good ol' Irish Bushmill's. Everyone who knows this about me thinks I'm crazy. (Hm, does anyone see a trend here?) For one, I'm a woman. And for two, it's WHISKEY, fercrissake. But I swear to you, it really IS good.

And now off I go to count the days to my due date once again...

3. I can't burp. I'm dead serious. Well, I take it back sort of...once every year or two, I burp. But it's not a normal "open your mouth and let 'er rip" experience. I have no advance warning that they're coming. They just slip out in mid-sentence or some other equally inopportune and humiliating time. I really have no idea why I can't burp. I've had people try to teach me how. (Wow, writing that makes it sound really weird.) It just doesn't happen.

But my theory is that I make up for it from the other end. *blush* I may not be able to burp the alphabet, but let me tell you, I am the Queen of Cheese Cutting. Very, very, very stinky cheese. (I suppose you could call that tidbit "Weird Thing About Me, Number 3a.")

4. I have many food-related idiosyncracies, but this is likely the weirdest: I must drink milk from plastic cups. It just doesn't taste right to me in a glass. So we have a selection of children's plastic cups in our cupboards. Not because M uses them, being that she's still on sippy cups. Just because I love me my milk, but heaven forbid you serve it to me in a glass. Should I ever visit any of you, make a mental note of this. If you give me milk in a glass, I may be forced to make general mischief in your household, including but not limited to: unscrewing your salt and pepper shakers, pouring out your vodka and substituting water, and leaving a Baby Ruth floating in your toilet.

5. As an infant and toddler, I had a couple of seizures. They stopped by the time I was 2, and the doctors chalked it up to infant epilepsy. However, over the years until they declared me "cured," I had to have a handful of EEGs. At one of them, they discovered that I have something called a "half alpha brain wave." The vast majority of people have a full alpha brain wave. The doctors told my mother that science had never discovered any effect, for better or for worse, of having this kind of brain wave, but that it was notable simply because it was so rare.

However, I must admit that I googled this, looking for a link to share that would explain what exactly a half-alpha brain wave is. And I found none. So there are a number of theories to explore here. a) I had an active imagination and made this up. b) My mother lied to me. c) I actually live in a parallel dimension where things like this really happen, but I sometimes bleed through into this dimension. d) I'm currently drunk on whiskey. Or whisky. I can verify that it's not d) - oh, how I wish it were d)! - but I think the other 3 are equally likely. Well, probably not b) either - my mom's not generally cruel like that. I'm starting to lean toward parallel universe.

And there you have it folks. Five completely weird and random things about me.