Practice Run

I didn't want to write this before C was born, because I knew too many people would worry. I do, however, want to record it. For posterity? For history? For whatever reason.
The week before Calvin was born, we had a practice run to the hospital.
You see, this baby I was carrying was "very active". Ever since one of the first ultrasounds. Apparently watching a bean jump is indicative of activity; I mean that bean would eventually become my Calvin, but it was weird then.
I carried "high" throughout my entire pregnancy--which is why everyone thought I was going to have a girl. For 32 weeks Calvin was transverse--it was like he was in a baby hammock on  tropical location (poolside, obviously). Then he snuggled up on the right side, tightly tucked under my rib cage. (So much so that I often put my arms over my head when at bedtime so I could catch my breath.) I put myself on "couch rest" for a week (week 37) so that I could make it through the school year since my doc told me I was 70% effaced and 3 cm dilated--and could go at any time. I wanted to make it through the year, so I stopped doing just about everything at home--and often taught while sitting on a perch at the front of the room. At week 38, in the final days of the school year, I was vacuuming, sweeping, hauling laundry, carrying things up and down the stairs. I was doing everything to get things rolling. Calvin dropped a little every day for three days. And, he was still.
When he was inactive for two days, I called the hospital to see what they wanted to do. They asked if I had counted his movements; I hadn't though I knew they'd probably ask me if I had. I told them I was high risk and that this baby had been super active for the entire pregnancy. They told me to come in just so they could check it out.
We went. We checked in to labor and delivery. They were busy that day and didn't have an assessment room for us, so they had us set up in a delivery room. It was a huge space--larger than our living room--and the bathroom echoed. (It was large enough for a standing shower, a stand alone whirlpool tub for hydrobirths and a separate water closet. Pretty sure it was large enough for an aerobics class to meet.)  I would say we were both a little spooked. I tried to remain calm as I changed into a gown and climbed into the bed. Dan wandered around the room (rather nervously). We fiddled with the bed, we poked around in the closets, and we punched the buttons on the remote to manipulate the TV.
The nurse asked us a battery of questions. Some of those questions might have raised my blood pressure, but I was doing my best to tell all of my body to remain calm. When the nurse put the tocometer on my belly and we heard the thunder of horse feet, she said--in practically a whisper--"there's your baby." I have to admit that I breathed a sigh of relief.
Because of all sorts of issues happening on that floor in the hospital, we spent almost three hours there. Almost long enough to enjoy "Just Go With It" (perfect mantra for our situation); we finished watching the final scenes one week later.
In the end, the practice run was good for us. We were able to get a feel for where we would be and how things would work. It made our birthing experience a much more calming experience. It also inspired us to finish packing our hospital bag!

The Rest of the Population

Alright, it's Day 11 and I have had to deal with the outside world twice. And, frankly, twice was enough.

Door-to-door in the 21st CenturyOn the day that I was doing two hour feedings and the doorbell rang every hour, I ran down to answer it once. It was one time too many; I have been stewing about it ever since.
There stood a salesperson with his navy Window Concepts polo shirt on. Because I was so sleep-deprived, I don't know that he introduced himself or what he was selling; I also don't know that he didn't. What I do know is:

• He didn't give me any eye contact during our conversation 
• I might have purchased a lifetime supply of anything he was selling, no matter if I needed it or not 
• I didn't even have my nursing bra attached at the straps; he certainly didn't notice 
• when I told him I just got out of the hospital, he didn't ask why or how I was doing; he just worked on completing his job 
• he asked me who the primary homeowner was; I gave him my name 
• he asked me who else lived here; I gave him Dan's name 
• he tried to set an appointment with me to come back even though I told him to call the day before to confirm since I had a newborn and had no idea what hour it was 
• when he gave me the confirmation sheet, it only had Dan's name on it. Not mine. 
• the company called me 15 minutes after the man went about his merry way (again, interrupting my nap time) 
• the company called me every single day over the course of the week--always asking for Mrs. Keller 
• I am not Mrs. anyone I was outraged. I live in a feminist household in the 21st century--and I am sometimes reminded that not everyone has made progress and some people don't know that there is progress to be made. It left me feeling like a.) whatever progress the Women's Movement had made was all for not. b.) whatever work I had done in the world to break down barriers was pointless and c.) apparently I didn't even matter enough to have my name listed on this salesman's contact sheet (who was I, Curly's wife??).

Needless to say, Mrs. Dan didn't do business with Window Concepts.

Target MarketThe other outing I had was to Target. I think I needed to wear a sign that read "I JUST BIRTHED A CHILD NINE DAYS AGO, GIVE ME A BREAK." Unfortunately for me, I didn't wear such a sign.
Unfortunately for the young man filling my prescription, he didn't know what was coming to him. When he couldn't look up my account and asked me if I knew where my prescription card was, he made a false move. I quickly reminded him of the sign I should have been sporting and asked him why he couldn't look it up. He/his company can target market the heck out of consumers, but he can't look up my account number? Ridiculous. He said, "Lady, look, if you don't know the number, I can't look it up." I am pretty sure my response was, "I don't care. Give me my prescription. I can't deal with this right now."
Unfortunately for the young woman at Guest Services who resisted refunding an item full price, she didn't know what was about to transpire either. After trying to reason with her logically, I just said, "This is asinine. I hope you realize how asinine this is. I need to leave now; I need to go feed my baby; this is the first time I have been out of my house. Just do whatever you need to do because I have to go." She did relinquish and I almost cried all the way home.

Lessons learned:

• the universe doesn't know/care about the birth of my child 
• I would rather deal with a two hour feeding schedule than the rest of the population 
• I love everything about Calvin and Dan 
• I need a sign to wear for my next outdoor adventure

The Beauty of Little Boys (not my original thoughts)

Here's a forwarded link from Great Auntie Jean Ann; since she had four boys and found this SPOT ON. I thought I would post it so I would have it to refer back to as we go along here. I do have to say that we've certainly experienced the joys of #8. Yesterday. And, today. Both times were equally as shocking for all of us, but only non-stop hilarity for two of us.
Enjoy the list!
Feel free to add your own if you have some. :-)

20 Things Nobody Told Me About Little Boys

May 22, 2012

(Or Maybe They Did While I Was Only Pretending To Listen)
1) You will spend a crazy amount of time clipping their weed-like fingernails, even though your own nails don't grow worth a damn.
2) They will also probably have nicer eyelashes than you.
3) Little-boy funk-smell kicks in sometime around age three.
4) It smells like a combination of feet and maple syrup.
5) You will totally get peed on. In the face, directly, at least once.
6) I also do not suggest painting the walls immediately around changing tables or toilets with a flat finish. Go with eggshell or satin, or else just thumbtack up some freaking towels.
7) Those little PeePee TeePee things do not work, unless you care to see just how far your son's urine can propel a tiny, soggy cone of fabric across the room.
8) All that said, a lot of times they just manage to pee right on their own heads. Memorize their shocked expression when it happens, because hiiiiiiiiiilarious.
9) Boners.
10) Yeast infections are not just for girls.
11) EW.
12) The instinct to turn random objects into guns/blasters/lasers/phasers/swords/lightsabers/arrows/cannons/etc. is something they are born with. Don't worry about it too much.
13) Buy helmets, though.
14) Remember that one mean little girl in first grade who would randomly announce that she wasn't your friend any more; she was someone ELSE'S friend now and you couldn't be friends with either of them because she said so and made you cry but then the very next day the rules were all completely different?
15) There are mean little boys like that, too.
16) The good news is that once you're a grown-up you realize it's perfectly okay to think that they're annoying little shits and tell their moms on them when they color on your walls with markers.
17) Even after many mature, frank discussions about body parts and the differences between boys and girls, you will definitely be asked — loudly and publicly — about your own lack of a penis and whether or not you pee out your butt.
18) At some point, you'll have to sack up and send them into the mens' room by themselves. This is both amazing and terrible.
19) Wearing a dress makes you look beautiful, Mommy. A single sequin on your shirt or a sparkly necklace earns you an upgrade to princess. Your hair looks gweat. Your hugs are nice. Your cuddles are the best. I wuv you, Mommy.
20) Ugh, they are so awesome, it hurts.
http://www.amalah.com/amalah/2012/05/20-things-nobody-told-me-about-little-boys.html

Beach Boys are hip

Of course the jaundice test came back positive. The home healthcare nurse said he was borderline, but that we could order a light bed if we wanted. (She also said he should start sporting Hawaiian shirts and audition for the Beach Boys. She thought he'd be a hit!) I would do whatever it took to get my little man back in action. It's tough to see your baby so sleepy and listless--and it's a slippery slope. There were a few moments when I had to remember that jaundice is pretty common and very curable--and that it wasn't my fault--and that it would be alright.
The billi-bed arrived and I slept with Calvin (alright, I didn't sleep well--neither did he). I mean, the kid was wearing paper scrubs that crinkled every time he wiggled and he was glowing like some character out of a horror flick. Though, he would make a pretty adorable poltergeist, if you ask me. And, we set alarms so that we would get up every two hours to eat. (Though I will admit I didn't need it because I wasn't sleeping anyway.)

He would make a pretty cute little ghost in the next Ghost Busters film.

Through the night and all during the following day we kept up our two hour pace. It was brutal to force him to wake up, hold and feed him in his little paper sheet, and have to velcro him back to his light bed. But, a mom's gotta do, what a mom's gotta do. If this was going to make it better, then this was what we had to do. And, that's what we did.

Auntie BA came to spend the day with us since Dan was in a wedding. I don't think she minded feeding him the supplemental feedings--even in his paper gown. It was nice to have her company and assistance for the day. (Interestingly enough, the doorbell didn't ring once while she was here!)

BA meets CMK. I think they will get along quite well.

When the home healthcare nurse called back with his results, he was on the mend. I mean, we weren't in the clear by any means, but we didn't have to stick him to the bed immediately after feedings. I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God. 
BA and Grammy Pammy got to hold him as long as they wanted. Needless to say, after the 5:30 p.m. all clear call, he didn't get a chance to enjoy his personal tanning bed any more. There were too many people here to love him that he couldn't spend time under the lights.

Dressed in his scrubs: do we have a future doc on our hands?

Eating, Sleeping and Pooping--sounds easy

And thus began the crash course in parenting. Indeed it was a crash course.

Once we came home from the hospital, there were no longer teams of people to call--it was Dan and me trying to figure out how to keep our newborn happy, healthy and alive. One of my friends said all we had to do was sleep, eat and poop. That may have sounded easy days ago, but now, making sure those three things happened was a challenge!

You see, Calvin likes to sleep. A lot. More than he likes to eat. More than he likes to poop. More than anything in the world. I didn't think it would be a problem--I had envisioned my screaming baby telling me when to eat and when to sleep; he didn't. Parenting class didn't talk about this.

Since Little C didn't eat enough, he didn't poop. (Our first day home resulted in zero diapers. Zero. I knew then that we might be in a little trouble.) We tried everything we knew to try to get our little man to eat. Three things happened: my body changed, C-Mo wouldn't eat and jaundice set in. (Which reminded me that he and I are still deeply connected and dependent on each other. That's why people call this the fourth trimester.)

When the home healthcare nurse stopped by for a visit on Day 4, it was like getting a scheduled visit from an angel. She weighed him (he had lost 1 lb, 3 oz.), tested him for jaundice (it was obvious! He could practically audition for the Beach Boys) and put us on a strict feeding schedule.

Two hours.

His feedings had to start every two hours--no matter how long it took to finish.

Dan had to trek to a friend's wedding rehearsal that afternoon, so it would be just the two of us. Liz + Calvin against the universe. For 17 hours, Calvin and I woke up to an alarm. I forced him to wake up--and stay awake so I could feed him. (Sometimes it was torturous--for me.) I gave him a supplemental feeding. (The home healthcare nurse called it an "after dinner drink." We knew he needed some "fast food" that he didn't have to work for. And, the bottle was going to be the ticket.) Then, I would put him down to sleep, pump for the next feeding, clean the equipment and accoutrements, and assemble what was needed for the next feeding. Usually, I had 20-30 minutes before the next round began. Enough time for a wee little nap. (However, that day the universe sent all of the door-to-door salespeople to our address. Every hour the doorbell rang. The phone buzzed. I got no sleep.)

When Dan came home, I sent him to bed because he had to drive to the wedding the next day. I told him that we needed him to stay awake tomorrow, because we needed him to come home to take care of us afterwards. By 5 a.m. I was standing holding our wailing baby, swaying back and forth in the dining room with my eyes closed, begging Dan to make a bottle of formula. I couldn't conceive of breastfeeding or pumping or anything except sleeping. I knew that I really could sleep standing up, right there, right then. Dan and I were both nervous about continuing this brutal schedule on my own for the entire day.

Dan took over for the next three hours and I got three hours of uninterrupted, glorious shut-eye before it all began again.

Going Home Day

After a busy day of entertaining visitors and admiring fans--including a good chat with my "work wife" Lisa (with whom I texted during labor and delivery), it was time to pack up and head home. It was as if we had an extended hotel stay, complete with room service. We started out leisurely gathering items, taking glorious showers, and getting dressed in our "going home outfits." Calvin wore the sleeper that Dan wore home when he was born.

C: "I know this is a sentimental moment and all,
but you do realize it's not December. Right?"

In the end, we just threw things in the bags we brought. Jeff and Seamus popped their heads in and we put them to work. I am pretty sure the universe sent these angels since it was exactly what we didn't even know we needed. They hauled us out of there, took a few pics, valeted the car and sent us home. I seriously can't thank these two honorary uncles enough. 

Leaving the hospital as a little family.

And, we were off. Off into the land of taking care of Calvin and each other. 

I have said this before, and I'll say it again:
I'll go anywhere with Dan; it's guaranteed to be a fun ride.
Parenting will, no doubt, be the ultimate roadtrip together.

And, we're off!

I didn't worry that we wouldn't be able to do it, I just knew that our new little family would figure it out together. 

Calvin's Fan Club

After a night of sleep interrupted by two tiny cries (one resulted in me building a pillow cave on my hospital bed to hold your swaddled body next to mine so we could sleep together--it's tough when you miss your momma), the visitors flocked to see our little man. We tried our best to take photos of everyone that came to see us--Beth Lewerke escaped unphotographed! We entertained guests from morning until night (I got a little nap in there somewhere...pretty sure...). Here are photos of just a few of the 20 people he graciously entertained:


Great Aunt Patty and Great Uncle Todd and crazy cousin Halle flew all the way from Arizona to meet him. (Well, not exactly, but we're actually writing history here. Let's make it sound grand!) Since they were in visiting before anyone else, they each got to hold him as long as they could stand his cuteness. Doesn't he look handsome after his bath?!

Crazy Cousins. I'd say they are both pretty darn cute!

Great Uncle Dave, Mary Rose, and Great Grandma Keeling were in the next shift. G2K said that he was the first grand and great grand baby that she got to see and hold in the hospital. That's pretty impressive since she has 30. It was a special moment for her. And, I loved that she came to sit on the edge of my bed and talk with me about her births, who he might look like, how great it was that he was born while she was visiting, and how everyone was recovering. She is one proud G2K.

Again, people came from far and wide to meet the One And Only Calvin Maurice. Uncle Seamus flew in from Seattle to take this picture. He and his wife Meg are waiting for their first baby, too, so Seamus got a little practice in! This is a pretty good look for him, I'd say. Uncle Jeff also earned mad props for a baby holding session. These two earned lots of punches on their MFV (Most Frequent Visitor) and MVV (Most Valuable Visitor) cards. We're lucky and honored to have them as friends!

Heather couldn't not stop to see wee Calvin. We're glad she tracked us down!

The last visitor of the day: Aunt Maggie. (10 p.m.)
Auntie M brought Dad's rootbeer and vanilla ice cream to celebrate!

And our family friend (I can say that now, since we have a family), Joe, came to take a few shots of us. Enjoy!

Our family chorus. Dan thinks we might be a little off key.
With a little fine tuning every day, I think we could make it big!

Welcome, Baby K

I am writing on day 4 because I have a few seconds. Only enough to post a few photos for the blog followers. Sorry, no stories right now. (But, there are stories to tell! Don't let me fool you!)


To get to the nitty gritty of it:
We had a son born on Father's Day, June 17!
Calvin Maurice was born at 8:29 p.m., weighed 8 lbs and 7 oz, and measured 20.5".
I promise I'll tell his birth story. At the moment, we have bigger things to do around here. 
Here are some photos of his hospital days to tide you over. Enjoy!

Our last day together

And so, it comes to pass. I will not be pregnant for much longer. It could be a matter of just hours, or this could take all day. I guess it just depends on how our bodies work together, dear baby. Honestly, no one knows how you are still hiding in there or why. I am effaced as much as can be and dilated, too. Your head has dropped into the perfect position and you are making all the right moves to begin your beautiful exit. And, all of these people in the world are rooting for you. The whole universe is calling out for your success; we can't wait for you to shift the planet for us, baby. 
Some people think that you aren't here yet because you are strong-willed. (I may live to regret this, but I'd be delighted if you were a person of great strength and will.) I have a hunch it might be my body that wants to hold you and keep you forever. You see, there were times in my life that I wasn't sure I wanted to have children. Then there were times when I wasn't sure I could have children. And now, I am not sure I want to let you go. Logically, I know that's not possible--what? am I going to be pregnant all my life??
 If you've been reading the blog, you know that it was with great risk that we chose to have you. There were many conversations between your dad and I about what life might be like if we lost you or if you two lost me. And, we chose to try to have it all. We choose you. May all of us always remember that you are a blessing. A miracle. A wonder. (It might get hard to remember this in about 13 years...and I don't want it to go to your head before or after that time.) Know that you have been loved ever since even before the first moments of your existence--and we will love you long after you've outlived us.


Because we'll forget, and you'll probably ask...
Since we couldn't convince you to come out (contractions just wouldn't start and the doctor was afraid of a prolapse situation if the water broke), your dad, the doctor and I decided to give us both a little nudge. You would be born on Father's Day, June 17. (We didn't choose the date, though it's a good one. It was the soonest we could be induced and our doctor was delivering that day.)
The day before your arrival I spent mostly in solitude. I continued to try to avoid pitocin by carrying laundry baskets up and down the stairs, cleaning the upstairs of our townhouse, running errands, etc. I also reflected on how wonderful my time with you has been. I spent time writing thank you notes to all sorts of people who have already given you so much. It was a great day of peace, love and gratitude.
Then I went to see my grandmother, Dad, aunts and cousins who were gathered to watch a parade in Waconia. It was hard not to tell them that you would be making your appearance into the world the next day--especially when Grandma told me she was hoping to hold you when she visited. I offered to let her hold my belly, but she didn't think that was quite the same. Your dad spent the day with his friends playing paintball and celebrating the upcoming marriage of one of his closest friends, Ryan. (Yup. He was at a bachelor party. I didn't want to tell very many people that either because lots of folks think that I shouldn't let him out of my sight, just in case. I only gave him one guideline--just don't get "Frank The Tank" drunk. I'll let you look that one up!)
Though we spent the day apart, when we crawled into bed, your Dad fell asleep with his hand on my belly (and you kicking and punching, of course). And we both decended into dreamland thinking about today. Your birthday.

On Attend

As the French say, "On attend." One waits. For a baby, one waits--not expects. And so, we wait.
There are signs that things might be progressing, but no contractions to write home about and--obviously--no water break yet. Either of those two things are going to land us in the hospital.
Otherwise, I feel like the ballerina in Kurt Vonnegut's short story, "Harrison Bergeron" (pre-Diana Moon Glampers, of course). It takes me forever to gather up enough motivation to get something done. And, when I do, it's like dragging lead weights around with every step. Ugh. So, I try not to exert too much energy and have been taking naps to prepare for the ultimate use of energy...coming soon. 
An evening walk might just do the trick. If only I could get off the couch to do it. ;-)

Summer Reads

Over the course of my latest grad school run, my summers have been occupied by research and writing. Last summer I read one book "for fun." Since the The Great Keeling-Keller Clean Out, I have created a pretty ambitious pile of summer reading material and have delved into it.

The first two were baby/parenting-related reads:

This book came to me from a dear friend, Maia, who met me during the Liz 2.0 stage. She was present during the updates and upgrades--and our relationship remains to be the sort of relationship that picks up right where it left off. No matter how long its been since we've seen each other. It's a relationship I treasure.
A gift from Maia is always thoughtful and meaningful. This book was no exception. Anne Lamott (who wrote a book on writing, Bird by Bird) was hilarious, honest and raw. At one point she talks about how grateful she is because her son got his father's straight hair. She says, "When you have extremely curly hair, it is always getting mashed down into weird patterns, like grass that's been flattened. You get it when you wear hats, and you get it when you sleep. In extreme cases, you wake up looking like a horse that has been grazing on one side of your head all night." I laughed so hard, I could barely read this passage out loud to my coarsely-haired husband.
Because this book was written in the trenches of raising her baby, it's a glimpse into reality. The diary-like entries are short and authentic vacillating between blissful and loving to loathsome and bitter. Within two pages she swings from describing her son as the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to "I am afraid I am going to have to let him go. He's an awful baby. I hate him. He's scum."
Lamott is a single parent who struggles to stay sober and sane to support her little family. She learns a great deal of lessons from her son:

"It's funny to watch a baby crawl backwards because it's something you grow out of--after a while you're only supposed to go forward, I think this is a part of the voice that says constantly, fix, fix, fix; do, do do...nothing can make me more frantic than sitting and trying to just be. I watch Sam be a baby and crawl backwards and it's such an alien concept because it seems so natural to think that all the action is forward. Actually, backwards is just as rich as forward if you can appreciate the circle instead of the direction."

Lamott triumphs through faith and friendships learning that blessings and losses come together and that the capacity for both joy and grief increase together. And, that's why this book was a perfect gift from my friend Maia!

The second book of the summer was also given to me by a wonderful friend. Heather is a Canadian who takes pride in her family's Scottish roots. She and I have shared many cups of tea together solving the world's problems. Before reading this book, I knew it was perfect that it had come from her! (Little did she know at that time, I had just been assigned to teach French next year!)

This book by Pamela Druckerman, an American ex-pat living in Paris, is an ethnographic look at the wisdom and philosophy of French parenting. Some take-aways:

• pregnancy is an act of waiting not expecting (the French don't buy anything for the baby before it's born; it's considered bad luck, so they don't stress about the color of the nursery, etc.)
• just because you're pregnant doesn't make you less of a woman. Don't give up your sense of fashion, your figure or your sex life. A new mamma guide claims "pregnancy should be at time of great happiness!"
• birthing is not a time to sacrifice. In France, 87-97% (depending on the hospital) of women have epidurals. There is no such thing as giving birth "naturally;" it's called giving birth "without an epidural." They don't ask how you're planning to deliver; they only ask where because the way you give birth doesn't situate you within a value system or define the sort of parent you'll be. It is a way of getting your baby safely from your uterus into your arms. One Parisian said, "I've never heard of a woman wanting to suffer so much to have a kid." (In the U.S. the more you suffer and sacrifice, the more you have the right to strut around like a war hero.)
• breastfeeding is also not a measure of one's values or abilities.
• child-rearing is not an all-consuming vocation. Rearranging one's life to fit the baby's schedule is a no-no (after about three months). You should have a life, too.
• being your sexy, pre-pregnancy self is important for women. After all the couple is prioritaire. You choose your spouse, so it's important to maintain the sanctity of that relationship. Parents need time together--without kids. Loving each other is just as important as loving the kids.
• let children "discover" the world. Let them faire la nuit; it's expected that babies sleep through the night after about three months. It's not an anomaly; it's the norm. Use The Pause to let babies/kids figure things out. Don't always rush to the rescue. (It's not necessary for moms to climb on jungle gyms at the park.)
• children are people (according to Francoise Dolto). They understand. Treat them like they do. They are also expected to politely address adults with bonjour, au revoir--as well as please and thank you.
• sending children to day care is part of socialization. It's not optional. Neither is sending your child on week-long field trips. It's part of their education. (In general, French women go back to work. They view it as important to maintaining their own lives.)
• feed small children what you eat--make no special meals. If they don't like something, introduce it again in a different way. French pre-schools (ages 3-5) have professional chefs; the kids are served three or four courses at meal time. Kids are expected to try everything. Druckerman writes that the result of French parenting is a "fully functioning society of good little sleepers, gourmet eaters and reasonably relaxed parents."
• it's important to understand both that kids need choices, and that it's parents who decide. They have a phrase that's part of the parenting frame "C'est moi qui decide." (It's me who decides. p.s. I have to figure out how to type French accent marks again; I apologize!)
• it's also important to remember that kids don't always make the best choices. They are allowed to "faire les betises"--make small acts of naughtiness. Not all betises warrant discipline. Some just create an opportunity for a little education. (Instead of saying, "be good," French parents say "be sage" (in control of yourself).)

The most important concept I got from this book is to chill out. American parenting often produces enfant roi--kids who demand to be the center of attention and cannot cope with frustration--and kids who do anything they like without limits or regard for others (i.e. Nicole). We'll just have to see how this translates into our own parenting style chez Keeling-Keller.


Next up: The Happiness Project, The Wealthy Spirit and Life is Short, But Wide

Voting Polls are Open

I hope Mom doesn't mind that I shared this with you, but I just got a message from her this afternoon that says she's started to take a poll. Here are the guesses so far:
Girl:
Nick 8lbs 6/13
Me 8lbs 12oz 6/12
Rose 8lbs 6oz 6/17
Jane 8lbs 2oz 6/24

Boy:
Dad 9lbs 1oz 6/14
Barb K 9lbs 2oz 6/15
Karen 7ibs 15oz 6/13
Barb S 8lbs 14.5oz 6/20
Susan 9lbs 1oz 6/15
Mel 8lbs 8 oz. 6/16


I thought you might enjoy just seeing what we all think. For me things will have to begin pretty soon in order for it to happen. I remember with you it was late, after visiting hours when your Dad went home and they called him back. Tomorrow will be the telling time. When is your appointment?

Anyone else want to "weigh in" here?

School's out for Summer

After the day of I-swear-to-you-labor-has-started-whether-I-am-really-ready-or-not, things calmed down. Way down. The baby was quiet and resting, so we took advantage of the opportunity. When I checked out of the building for the summer, Dan and I went out for lunch, I walked around downtown Anoka while he finished his last duties, then we went to celebrate with fine folks.
Kelly and Josh threw one of the best backyard parties I have ever been to! EVER! They catered in the food, hired a live band, let a million kids run around, and spent time with all of their guests. 
I spent a great deal of the evening talking about research, the art of the dissertation, immigration/visas and raising kids with Harold. It reminded me of how much I love my cohort friends; these people really are amazing! And, Harold is doing some ground-breaking work in his research in business and development training. He'll finish his dissertation in a few weeks; I am sure of it!

This is Harold, one of the finest, funniest, talented people I know.

Javier and Doug scored the best seat in the house! (Aren't they adorable together?!) I got to meet Doug a few weeks ago when they joined us at the Chatterbox for graduation. He's patient, funny and lovable. Not surprising that he and Javier get along so well. Javier's moving through his proposal and his HSR; I see data gathering in his future! I hope to run into him a few more times this summer to keep abreast of his progress--and to see him relaxed and smiling!

Best seat in the house!

Here's Josh and Harold. Two wild and crazy guys.

Here's Kelly.

Josh and Kelly are the type of people that I hope everyone can know in their lifetimes. They are inspiring, generous, smart, fun-loving, open, and adventurous. They are the kind of people we hope to always have in our lives. (Actually, we hope to always have these exact people in our lives!) :-)
Kelly and Josh officially signed a contract to go teach in Brazil--Rio de Janeiro--for two years. And, they have jumped in with both feet! Their two boys are looking forward to learning how to surf and dance in the Carnival. We love them, will miss them dearly, and will be stalking their online presence in the years to come. (Next July seems like a great time to visit Brazil, huh?)

Kelly and Josh will be well protected in Brazil. ;-)

While we dreamed of future adventures, mingled with good friends, giggled about the past and future, the band played on into the evening. What a way to celebrate the beginning of summer!

Feeding and pooping and diapering and caring

When we took the childbirth course, we also got a package deal on two other one-night classes. We registered ourselves for breastfeeding and baby care basics. And, we attended a seminar on cloth diapering. Here are the highlights:


The breastfeeding class was really great for both Dads and Moms. I the top three crazy things I learned were:

• I am about to become a milk sprinkler.
• When this baby is hungry it will try to get milk out of everything--including non-human objects.
• I'll most likely be hooked up to a machine that looks vaguely like something I last saw in a barn in Linton, ND: 

only mine will look like this so I can happily work at my desk like a sane business woman:


The diapering class was taught by lovely woman, Katrina, who runs a store called My Sweet Pickles. Here are the top tips Dan gleaned from that evening:

• Diaper services are like magical storks. They bring clean diapers to your house and take the stinky ones away forever. This service would make a great gift for someone expecting a child. ;-)
• There are a billion choices. Some are made of hemp, bamboo, cotton, etc. Some have flaps, some flip, and some snap. We'll stick to Bum Genius brand, thank you.
• Baby's poop varies in texture and color. The number of diapers used in a day increases every day until they are 10-12 days old. It's good to track all of that. Don't worry, there's an app for that.
• We already knew 90% of what was talked about, so it felt good to go to this course. We feel like we know what we're doing on Poop patrol.

FYI: For what it's worth, this is the only class where we did not see someone's boob in a video.

The baby care basics class was equally as enlightening. We learned 

• how to swaddle our kiddo, like when it's cattle-branding time 

• how to bathe it while it flails about in the sink or tub
• not to say to a class of parents-to-be that "our due date is a joke" (Oops. Too many nervous  type As in the room. We were the second people to introduce ourselves and I could practically feel the stress level rise after we explained why...)
• having contractions in a public space filled with nervous type A personalities is interesting in its own right
• having contractions in a public space with birthing experts present is comforting;they put me at ease because "everything is as it should be"
• we're pretty much ready for our baby to come--especially as we compared ourselves to the wide-eyed folks sitting around us. This was most comforting news.

The contractions and the birthing symptoms stopped after I got a good night's sleep on Thursday. I haven't had a day like that since.

Surviving and failing the final

So, I spent all day Thursday feeling nauseous and contraction-y, post doctor visit. I pretty much sat in front of my classroom and directed the action during the day.
My fourth hour class, the children we were seriously inconvenienced when we had to move the date of their final up by 24 hours, was actually quietly working. I hated to interrupt them to move them to further instruction. Neither I nor my para could believe that this group of kiddos had it in them. It was like a gift from God.
My fifth hour final consisted of one thing: ice cream sundaes. 

Chocolate is necessary in all ice cream sundaes. Not kidding.

It was yearbook, we don't have a district-mandated final (I'll take the credit for that), and we were celebrating our completed spring supplement deadline.  Everyone was in charge of something to bring. During the planning phase, one of the kids asked what would happen if they forgot to bring their contribution. I told them they'd fail the final. When the time came, I took roll call by saying things like: 
Laura: bowls? 
Danielle: rootbeer? 
Jack: straws? 
Everyone pulled through except Nicole. She said, "I didn't think you were serious." You know what Nicole was supposed to bring? Chocolate sauce. What kind of ice cream sundae party doesn't include at least one bottle of squeezable chocolate syrup? Seriously. 


But, some people don't get that what they do or don't do actually impacts others.


Nicole also proceeded to ask me when I was to birth this child and if I would text her on the way to the hospital. Things to learn here: a.) It matters not that I might be slightly uncomfortable and not feel like texting anyone at all, including Nicole. b.) It doesn't occur to Nicole that if I did feel like texting someone, I might have other people in my circles that would have more priority; and c.) Nicole is the center of the universe. 
This is current American Parenting at its finest. (Another post on that soon. If you can't tell, I've been getting some reading in these last couple of seeks. More to come.) 
Bottom line: some of us survived finals and some of us failed. Epically.

Settle Down

It's my fault. 
I posted this on facebook knowing quite well that it might cause a flurry of excitement:


Warning: TMI. Update: 3cm dilated, 70% effaced. If you don't want to know what that means, don't look it up. :-)



I had no idea. 


People, please know that I am fine. Baby is fine. All is fine. The universe is a wonderful, beautiful place to be right now. Peace be with all of you.


Here's how I know:
The doctor checked everything out this afternoon. 


Dan even came with me to my weekly appointment. He hadn't seen an ultrasound in quite a few weeks, and I am glad he came along. We got to see our beautiful baby's face--looking right at us. It could have passed for the Gerber Baby. Seriously. (Let's see what a trip through the birth canal does!) :-) Our little peanut (or Phenom as one fb friend said last week) kept moving its hand in and out of the picture and passed its biophysical profile test in under 10 minutes. All that movement will come in handy in labor, I hope.


Dan watched the stress test and heard the child's heartbeat for about a half an hour. He smiled when he heard it move and watched my belly bulge and twitch. No surprise on the movements from me. However, no indication of contractions, either.


And my husband decided to stay in the room for the pelvic exam. He's brave. The doctor and I talked about the loss of the mucus plug, the possibility of induction, and the merits of 27-30 gauge needles (yup, I now have an opinion about such things). (That's for a later post.) And, voila, there was a pelvic exam. Doc measured me and did a little swipe of my membranes to continue to encourage dilation and effacement. Though I haven't needed encouragement since my membranes are distressed already--due to extra water in the swimming pool. Doc said it would be a matter of time. She gave me the diagnoses: a couple more baby-free days.


That's that.
In the meantime, I have to finish posting my final grades. I need to clean my classroom. I have my first meeting with my new yearbook editors. I have a student with special circumstances (think: big wig parents) who has not yet turned in her final exam even after setting her deadline twice. I have a few final yearbook-y things to do. And, there are probably a zillion tiny to-dos. There's the story of my life.
And, all of that may or may not be interrupted within the next 24 hours.
Only time will tell if "open swim time" is closing and the whistles are blowing to signal that it's time to get out of the pool. We'll do whatever the lifeguards say.

Ticking Time Bomb

I guess this is the part of pregnancy that gets kind of messy. Well, not literally. But it gets tricky to tell people how things are going without talking about what is actually happening. 

The science-y people get it, because it's simply biology.

The moms get it, because they went through it.

However, that leaves a whole heck of a lot of other folks out there in the world--an in my life--that I don't know how to quite explain what's just happened and what's about to transpire.

Here goes: at the end of pregnancy, there are certain things the body does to signal that the end time is near. Here's a link to a very straightforward list of signs of labor (not some lady's grossly detailed ranting blog--there are a few out there, let me tell you. These are not helpful.).

Here's what I will tell you: my body released the material protecting the baby's cocoon. I'll admit that I had a little internal freak out at happy hour when I discovered what had happened. (The virgin Bloody Mary was good before that moment. So good.) Fortunately, it was time to pay the tab and get home. 

At that moment I knew: all that separates this baby from the outside world is one distressed membrane.  I imagine that this is what it's doing up in there right now:

Our baby getting a good look at the world before it decides to make its arrival.

How long will the water balloon hold up? I did some online reading and discovered that I could go into labor in hours, days or weeks. Not helpful. I also learned that my body would repair itself in 1-2 days. I decided I was putting myself on "couch rest" to let that happen and to buy a little time between peeping-Tom-stage and head-through-vagina-stage. 

Heck, I'd hang upside down from the rafters if that meant babe and I could live symbiotically for seven more days. For now, I'll put my feet up, cross my legs (and fingers) and tell the universe that I need a little more time.