Monthly Archives: November 2005

If I tell you to read this, and also tell you that I just about peed my pants laughing at it, will you think I’m going to be a bad mother?

(Thanks to Laddie and Matt for the link.)

That would be me. Do you know why? Because I just completed a good 80% of my Christmas shopping. Mr. Squab met me at Marshall Fields downtown after work; we went up to the 8th floor to see the Holiday installation (it’s Cinderella this year, one of my very favorite fairy tales – I memorized the little golden book version when I was two); we went to the Oak Room for supper (I had the chicken pot pie with a spinach salad); figured out what we were going to get whom and strolled around the skyway system from shop to shop. Downtown was all decorated with lights and evergreens, and since it was a Monday night the stores weren’t too crowded or picked over. We turned the radio to the oldies station on the way home – they play all Christmas music between Thanksgiving and Christmas – and started getting into what I believe is called the “spirit of the season.” It was a really lovely way to get a jump-start on the shopping, particularly for a couple who typically waits until about December 22nd to even begin shopping for presents. Now I just have to figure out what I’m getting Mr. Squab for Christmas …

No luck in scheduling the funeral on Saturday; the wake is on Thursday and the funeral is on Friday. So no trip south for us. Which kind of bites. And, with the wake from 4-7 on Thursday, not so much with the Thanksgiving dinner, either. Which also kind of bites. In fact, let’s just say it: this whole death thing pretty much bites any way you cut it. Sigh. But at least Mr. Squab and I got to see Harry Potter this afternoon. And, um … now I have time to do some laundry. So there’s that, which is nice.

Maybe Christmas will be better.

Had a lovely, relaxing weekend up at my friend’s cabin. There are four of us who go up, all in our mid-to-late 30s. We all met through work, though we don’t all work at the same place anymore. What’s interesting about the trip is that these aren’t women I see on a daily basis or anything. We all socialize, but we see each other in person maybe once a month, if that. Nonetheless, for the past three years, we’ve made time in our busy schedules for the 4 1/2 hour trek up to the northern part of the state, to spend a long weekend at the cabin. We go sans husbands or partners (but sometimes with dogs), and when our sig-O’s ask us what we do all weekend, it’s sort of hard to explain! We eat, we talk, we knit, we play card games and board games … we stay up late and sleep in, we dance to our favorite tunes on the CD player, we go for walks and sit in front of the fire – really, we just sort of hang out. There aren’t a lot of people you can do that with. And it’s not like we all have similar personalities or anything! In fact, widely divergent: two squabs, a squin and a squo. But for some reason we all mesh perfectly for a weekend of vegetation. I hope it’s a tradition we can continue for years to come.

It was especially nice to have the relaxing weekend because this week is shaping up to be anything but. We’ve been planning for months now to go down south and stay with my grandma and aunt over Thanksgiving. My sister is coming, too, and we’d planned an extra long break: leaving tomorrow and not getting back until the 29th. We figured, it’s our last real vacation until the baby comes, which means our last real vacation for the next 18 years, so let’s do it right! Mr. Squab hasn’t ever visited my birth state, so we planned to show him around the area and take an overnight trip to Savannah just to see the sights. BUT. This morning, Mr. Squab got a tearful phone call from his mother to say that his beloved great-aunt passed away this weekend. She’s been in bad health for a few years now, and in rapid decline for the past few months, so her death wasn’t too much of a surprise and in many ways is a blessing. But in her prime, she was a sharp old lady with a wry sense of humor and a lot of love for Mr. Squab and his family, to whom she was basically a second mom/grandma. She’ll be missed.

As her funeral will be on Saturday, Mr. Squab and I had to rearrange our flights so we can get back from my grandma’s house on Friday night, meaning we’ll miss out on the Savannah trip and have far less time to spend with my rellies. Selfishly, I’m really disappointed that we have to cut back on our last real vacation. But of course we can’t miss the funeral (nor would I want to even if we could), and maybe this will mean I can take more time off over Christmas. But can someone explain to me why close relatives always have to die so near the holidays?

I’m leaving early today for a weekend up north in a cabin with some girlfriends. We’ll be, you know, wearing baby doll pajamas and having pillow tickle fights, because that’s what chicks do when they have sleepovers. (Just trying to keep Mr. Squab’s fantasy life intact.) So anyway, no posting from me until I get back, but I encourage you to check out the blogroll for some fine, fine reading. Have a good weekend!

Had my initial diabetes consultation today, and it wasn’t anywhere near as scary as I was afraid it would be. Which is nice. First off, the only other woman in the class was having triplets(!) in about four weeks, and had been confined to bedrest for the past two months. So right away my life was looking better. Second, they gave us a bag of free stuff. I mean, sure, it was a blood sugar monitor and extra strips and punchy things, but it was electronic and it came in a cool carrying case and they let us play with it, so it counts, dammit. I was *seriously* paranoid about the blood sugar monitoring. The only times I’ve had my finger punched to draw blood is when I donate blood and they have to check first for iron levels and stuff. And that shit HURTS! Also I have this irrational sense of ickyness about poking holes in my fingertips. I’m not scared of needles, and even punching my arm wouldn’t bother me, but my fingertips … *shudder*. I voiced my wussy anxiety to the nurse, and she acknowledged it, but said she thought I might be pleasantly surprised by how little I’d feel it – they’ve made a lot of improvements, and the meters they provide are touted as the gentlest. And she was right! I can feel it, but it’s more like a mosquito bite than the terrible spike of death I’d been fearing. Which is a good thing, since I have to test my blood sugar FOUR TIMES A DAY. Once right after I get up (which will make me love mornings even more than I already do) and then one hour after each meal. Oy.

We also went over the dietary restrictions, and those are looking fairly manageable as well. I have to eat a lot more protein than I have been, and I have to make sure I get enough carbs as well (though I have to be careful with those). The nutritionist said I *can* eat the occasional slice of pumpkin pie or Christmas cookie, I just have to be careful when I do it and adjust the rest of my meals and snacks accordingly. This should make the holiday season a lot easier to manage. Overall it looks like it will be a slight, but not massive, pain in the ass … though I may change my tune after doing this for a few months.

Also, can I just say that I frickin’ love nurses? Some of this may possibly have to do with the fact that my stepmom is a nurse, as are lots of my parents’ friends, but regardless: I think nurses are the bomb-diggity. With very few exceptions, the nurses that I’ve interacted with since I got knocked up have been extraordinarily kind, informative, and supportive – and the nurses today were no different. They took the time to answer all our questions, and were careful to emphasize the need to take care of our health as much as or more than the need to do it for the baby’s sake. (The feminist mom in me really appreciated this.) I’ve heard horror stories from friends and acquaintances about some of the horrible things their healthcare practitioners have said or done, but I’ve had nothing but luck with mine.

Oh – and I got back the results from my quad screen (the test for genetic anomalies) and it came back normal, as did the results from my 24 hour urine test. Man, you guys know a lot about my inner workings!