Thursday, March 29, 2012

Bat Crazy

David planned our 1-year anniversary trip, so it was my turn to plan our 2-year one. Makes sense. I booked us an adorable one bedroom cabin in the Smokies that had a loft area upstairs with ping pong and pool tables. David loves ping pong and pool, so I knew it'd be a hit. And I know I don't look like it, but I'm actually pretty amazing at both. David didn't know that when he met me and he thought he was going to "teach me" how to play. You can't teach a master.

Just a little side story...(you know I love those). For our 4-year anniversary, we went on a cruise to French Polynesia/New Zealand. We're in this AMAZING location and what does David want to do? He wants to enter the ping pong tournament. I wanted to sit on the balcony and watch the dolphins play in the water below, but he wanted someone there to cheer him on. And I should have known better. Every cruise we ever go on he enters the tournament. And he always wins. He even beats the guys that bring their own paddle and gloves. Seriously. There are people who do that. I don't ever play in the tournaments. I just "practice" with David to help him "warm up." Truth is, I go easy on him so he won't feel bad about losing to a girl. This particular tournament lasted the whole length of the cruise. It was one of those bracket things and every day at 6:00 p.m., another 4 players would be eliminated. Finally, toward the end of the trip, only 2 players remained. David and a French gentleman. Hearing him smack talk in his thick accent was one of the greatest things I've ever witnessed. He was one of the ones that brought his own paddles. The day of the championship game arrived. It was 6:02 p.m. and the Frenchman never came. The game mediator, an Australian employee of the ship who couldn't have been more than 10 years old, said, "Well, someone has to be a winner and we can't have a winner without the final game." The Australian called the guy's room because he had his name, but no answer. He chickened out. Then, he mediator looked at me and said, "Do you want to play him for the championship?" David laughed and said, "Oh yeah, Ruth...come play me." I waved my hand and said, "We'll just call it a tie between you and Monsieur No Show." The Australian wouldn't have it. "NO! There must be a winner!" I gave in, I was getting hungry and didn't want to miss our dinner time. "Fine. Give me a paddle. I'll play with my left hand." Well, you can probably guess who won. I have a gold medal and Tahitian Princess cup cozy to prove it. I was the ultimate ping pong champion of the South Pacific. BOOM. Next.

SO...back to the Smokies. David flipped when I showed him the loft. One night, after a long day of hiking, we headed upstairs to play some strip pool. Yes, you read that right. Thankfully, we were only a few minutes in when I stepped back and felt my bare left foot (ooh, saucy) brush something. I looked down and, puzzled, couldn't quite make out the form in the shadows of the loft. I squatted down to get a closer look. Oh, holy cow, that's a bat. I did a little freak-out dance, dropped my pool stick and squealed, my voice reaching decibels unheard by humans. I vaulted down the stairs and never went back up the entire rest of the trip. David determined it was dead, but still. I felt like breathing the air would give me rabies. I love all of God's creatures, but I don't have to touch all of them. Bats, lizards, possums...I would rather sit in a bathtub of snakes than touch a possum. Those are the UGLIEST critters I've ever seen. And they hiss. They're basically miniature R.O.U.S.'s and there's no use for them. Anyways. David called the housekeeping service, who thought we were saying we had been bitten, but he assured them the bat was already dead and no bites were exchanged.

An hour or so later, we were downstairs watching TV and I noticed some shadows fluttering across the wall. I thought it was my eyes being weird while watching TV, but it kept doing it. So, I focused on the wall. The flutters were still there. "Do ghosts make shadows?" I queried. David just looked at me with one eyebrow raised. I hear squeak squeak squeak flap flap flap and look up. Bat. "IT'S ALIVE!!!!!" I grab the blanket off the back of the couch and cover myself, leaving David to fend for himself. I could not move. I kept asking, "Is it on me?! Is it on me?! I feel like it's on me!" David responded, "Ruth, it's way up in the ceiling, trying to get out through the skylights." And then I felt sorry for it. "Aw...he's just trying to go home. Let's help him. And by 'let's', I mean you." He said I had to help him. I said, "Maybe if we leave him alone, he'll just die again." Then David brought up a very horrible thought, "If we don't get him out, you're going to have to go to bed tonight knowing he's loose in the house." That was not going to work for me.

Have you ever seen Black Sheep with David Spade and Chris Farley? The scene with the bat in the cabin? That's pretty much exactly what happened. We found a broom. David went up to the loft and shooed him down lower. Then he ran back downstairs, helped me grab the other end of the blanket and we corralled him toward the open door. It actually only took about 10 minutes to get him out...10 straight minutes of me screaming, but we did it. He came back to life and we helped him return home.

I wanted to go play ping pong now that the loft area wasn't infested and we headed back upstairs. DEAD BAT STILL ON THE FLOOR! Then, I felt really bad because I thought maybe they were together and he didn't want to leave his lady bat friend. (I'm just assuming the girl was the dead one because, let's be honest, girls aren't as good in survival extremes as guys are. Well, ha, tell that to Katniss Everdeen). But, I fo sho wasn't gonna touch it.

The next day we went hiking and when we returned, Bat Lady was gone. I wonder about her buddy sometimes...if he misses her still. Well, kids, that's what happens when you sneak through the roof into someone else's house. One of you dies.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Life with Red Ruth: Pangea

Being "self-conscious" doesn't begin to scratch the surface of the range of emotions you go through as your body is being transformed from something "normal" to something unearthly for 40 weeks. I didn't have the pregnancy glow with the girls and I FO SHO don't have it now. Celebrities can pay for that glow and I do believe there are a lucky few that get it and I hate them. For the rest of us, we spend our days looking in the mirror at everything changing, hoping this or that stays tucked in or tucked up for just a little while longer.

While it's all definitely worth it, no doubt, I think it's frustrating me this time more than with the girls because it's happening WAY faster. Dr. Mac said that would be the case. Your body prepares earlier on because it's like, "Oh, hey, here we go again."

David has been nothing but wonderful through my whining and questioning. "Is my back fat getting bigger? Is my nose huge? Does my butt jiggle more than normal? Do I have sausage fingers?"

He is so sweet, says I'm being ridiculous, and tells me how beautiful I am. I tell him of course he has to say that, but he insists he's telling the truth. He's a good man. The other day was a rough day for me and I was feeling down in the dumps...mainly because I looked like a dump. He came along to encourage me.

The real conversation went like this...

Ruth: Ugh.
David: What is it?
Ruth: I'm too tired and sick to exercise. I don't feel like myself and I don't look like myself. And I feel like everything is moving around.
David: Moving around?
Ruth: Like, body parts.
David: You are insane. You look the exact same as you did before you got pregnant. You felt like this with the girls, too. You'll be back to yourself in no time.
Ruth: I know, I know. Well, just call me Pangea until then. (pout)

But, in my head and in my rage-induced world, the conversation went more like this...

Monday, March 26, 2012

A Short One

This weekend was crazy. Today is crazy. I'm more sick than ever. I even joked with David that, at this point, I'd rather have twins again than be this sick, but then I quickly took it back in case God heard me. So, this is all I have for a post today.

Friday afternoon, the fabulous Aunt Moo came back over again to take out the rest of Piper Lee's stitches. She came over last Wednesday and took out two, but it wasn't quite ready yet, so she left the other two in.

PL did so great. Never made a peep. Laid so still and shut her eyes. She gave us high-fives when she was done and proclaimed, "Boo boo gone bye bye!" Dr. Sara still put a steri-strip on it to just keep it covered for a few more days. She likes that. I think bandaids are her new security blanket. She made sure we all knew where her boo boo had been.

We don't normally let them wear off-the-shoulder looks and here, she's a little bit racy, but the dress is just a tad too big.

Assistant Nurse Harper, who insisted on having a bandaid on her face as well. "SCALPEL!"

The End.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Gender Guesses, Upchuck, and Stitches

Well, now you guys have me questioning this gender thing. I originally thought boy and then I was thinking girl...but now I don't know what to think. Ha, like my "thinking" does anything. We were talking about waiting until he/she was born before finding out, but I don't think I can wait. I told David I would find out and then do that surprise cake thing with him. And he did not like that idea and suggested HE find out and make the cake for me. Uh no. That won't work.

I've had a few dreams that it was a boy, but I've also dreamt that it came out super fast and ran down the hall and we couldn't catch it. Not sure how trustworthy my dreams are. I did something really really really stupid and spent $20 on a gender prediction test that had a "90% accuracy rating." After I took it, I thought, if these things were actually legit, then wouldn't doctor's offices use them before the screening ultrasound? Yeah, should have thought that through. It turns pink for a girl and blue for a boy, obviously. Mine turned purple...so. I'm getting my money back.

In person, it was actually closer to the girl color...maybe a shade or two past the color bar on the left.

I've been getting progressively more sick at night. I finally upchucked Monday night. It was EPIC. And wonderful. I felt so much better. David was in the living room and thought I was pouring water into the toilet. ??? Because I do that sometimes. No no...I was giving back all of my supper and chocolate milkshake. I've been going to bed every night about 8. It's the only way I can get through the nausea. It's nice and I do feel rested, but nighttime is the only time I have with David during the week and I miss him. I'm really sick of being sick. I know it's all part of it and I know/pray/hope it'll pass soon.

Last Friday night, sweet Hugs was bathing the girls like he does every night for me. I could hear the stomp splash stomp splash stomp splash of their nightly dance competition...the girls, not David. This time, though, the tub was extra bubbling with bubble bath and little Pipsqueak slipped and ate the side of the tub with her face. I rushed in there because it was a bad cry, the kind that rips your heart out. David was holding her and we checked her over, nothing. But then, I notice a skinny river of red running down the side of her face. We brushed her hair back and noticed a 1/3" cut to the right of her left eyebrow. We took her in the living room and the bleeding stopped within 20 seconds. I moved the skin above and below and they always say if you can "open" the cut by doing that, it needs stitches. Sho nuff...she needed stitches. I was about to throw up because it was my baby and she was hurt and I cannot handle it if my family is injured. I know I need to suck it up and it was such a small little cut, but gracious alive...I was about to pass out.

Growing up in a medical family, we got to see a LOT of things. We got to assist spaying/neutering our cats because the veterinarian was a close family friend. We got to watch Dad sew up a lot of people, including my brother Peter when he was bitten right in the heiny cheek by a German Shepherd. When Sara was in nursing school, she watched a lot of surgeries at the hospital in our hometown because Dad was buddies with the resident surgeon. I was bored, so I went, too. We saw a wrist reconstruction where this guy busted his hand riding a 4-wheeler. We saw a splenectomy. We had to scrub in like they do in the movies. Took me an hour to wash my hands. Poor guy's spleen was 5 times larger than it should have been. The doc pulled back the diaphragm and lifted some other stuff up and let me see his heart beating. It was amazing! Don't even get me started on what all we saw during our years in Jamaica. People I don't know...I'll deliver your baby in a restaurant while eating a bowl of spaghetti. But, don't ask me to take my daughter to get a few stitches.

So, David took her for me. Harper was upset and didn't know what was going on, so she and I watched TV on the couch while waiting for Daddy and Sister to come home. David said the nurses/doctor said Piper Lee was a champ and was so brave.

We don't dance in the bathtub anymore.

The next day, she was back to herself.

The great thing is, Aunt Moo (Sara) can take out the stitches! It's good to know some medical people.


Monday, March 19, 2012

Life with Red Ruth: The Pillows

I'm going to start a stick figure series called Life with Red Ruth: The Chronicles of a Hormone-Stricken Crazy Woman. When I was pregnant with the twins, I honest-to-goodness was pretty chill, totally relaxed. I did not freak out about anything. You can ask David. I regretfully admit that this time around, it's not the same. Which is weird because I actually had more hormones with the girls. Maybe they cancelled each other out, I dunno. This time, though, at the drop of a hat, I can be overcome with a rage monster I like to call Red Ruth. It's a term from the TV show Friends, when Ross would become "Red Ross" when he freaked out over something ridiculous. And poor David gets the brunt of Red Ruth's flames of anger.

There's a chaise lounge type of thing in the girls' bedroom. It came with 100 pillows, which is silly, but they look nice, so we (I) kept them on there. They have to be put on a certain way in order to fit them all and still be able to sit down. Men don't understand this. The other day, I walk into the room and there are pillows EVERYwhere. There were some on the ceiling, I don't know how they got there. Of course, "fun Dad" was letting the girls play on the couch thing. I walk in and see the pillows and freak out. We had a showing in just a second, he knew that and it does take a little while to get those pillows back on just right. And not that the kids can't play on the furniture in their own room, but not RIGHT before a showing, right.

The conversation actually went like this...
Ruth: David, honestly? We've gotta go. Can you fix those please?
David: Yeah, of course, no problem. Come on girls, let's fix the pillows for Mama.
(30 seconds later)
David: Done!
Ruth: Yeah, that's not even kind of how they go.
David: Well, show me how they go and I'll make sure they're like that from now on.
Ruth: (sigh) Fine.

But, in my head and in my rage-induced world, the conversation went more like this...

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Booooooriiiiing

This past weekend, my parents and brothers drove down to Key West. LAME. I feel sorry for them, I really do. Noah was on Spring Break...for the very last time ever...and then it's the real world, Noah! It's the real world! No more Spring Break! You gotta work, suckah! (That's me being Mom.) But for real...hehe, no more Spring Break.

Noah loaded some pictures on Facebook and I stole them so we could all share in their misery.

They made a few stops on the way down just to break up the monotony of the grossest state ever, Florida. Ugh, Florida. Tropical America. Crystal clear waters, white sugar sandy beaches, hues of blue and turquoise that are impossible to reproduce outside of nature. Blah...kill me now.

They stopped by Silver Springs to see the, well, springs. Despite the swarms of rednecks that frequent the tourist trap, it's a beautiful...I mean, disgusting place. Cool, clear, calm water encapsulated by lush Florida vegetation, haunted by ghosts and legends of man-eating creatures. They have glass bottom boats that take you to see all the main springs and some of Florida's indigenous wildlife.

Then they stopped by the Everglades to see the Everglades.

And they went on an airboat ride.

After the Everglades, they drove the rest of the way through the Keys and ended up at the very bottom...Key West. The bottom of America. Fitting, too. Pristine scenery, amazing seafood, unparalleled water sports...it's a wonder people don't die of boredom when they get there.

One day, they took a two-hour catamaran ride out to Fort Jefferson...70 miles from Key West. In the middle of nowhere.

It was a fort built to protect the Keys against piracy and during some of the wars, but then it became a prison. I can think of worse places to be imprisoned. It's surrounded by a seawall to protect against the surf and it forms sort of a moat. It's the largest brick formation in the USA.

Over a decade ago, a saltwater crocodile got blown off course by a storm...WAY OFF COURSE...and ended up in the moat. He's been there ever since. They say as long as he doesn't bother tourists, he can stay. I feel so sorry for him. Noah said he seemed to be okay.

Interior walls.

The most famous prisoner was Dr. Samuel Mudd...one of the conspirators charged in the murder of Abraham Lincoln. That's where the saying, "Your name will be Mudd," comes from. This is his cell.

Noah went snorkeling outside the fort in the reef. He was the only one that went, which was a super smart idea.

Inner courtyard.

Another day, they walked on the original Seven Mile Bridge to Pigeon Key and back.

Mom and her pumpkin hat.

Pigeon Key

Ugh, really? Barf. Give me a pollution-hazed dreary city locale any day of the week. Who wants to live in paradise?

Key West has the best hole-in-the-wall restaurants and my family insisted on sending me pictures of everything they ate. Coconut-encrusted grouper, mango pecan snapper, white chocolate mousse brownies, Key Lime pie, tempura fried green beans. "Heh, sorry excuses for tropical cuisine," Ruth smirked at her family's food choices as she removed the plastic film from her own frozen chicken alfredo lunch.

Whatever, I mean. Key West...I don't care. I have to finish my Cocoa Puffs and get back to work. Bye.



Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Catch Up Post

Happy Tuesday, fellow humans.

The girls are finally all the way better and are sleeping through the night again. PRAISE THE LORD! (I sung that part...a sustained A sharp)

I have a new superpower...in addition to all my regular ones. I can now smell everything. EVERY.THING. It's not a great superpower. I'm not really pleased with it. My favorite Philosophy lotion: on hold until my Super Sniffer powers chill out a little. The girls' shampoo: barf. Waffles toasting: that's nice. David coming in from working out: sexy, but barf also. I wasn't bothered with smells when I was knocked up with the girls. Wait, what did I call it last time? Babied. Yeah, smells didn't bother me when I was babied with the girls. Overly-powerful food smells or really flowery lotions or shampoos are way too much. I've had to change my own shampoo because I couldn't sleep at night, the smell was so strong. I have a pregnancy acne face wash that's safe to use and it about knocks me out. I have to hold my breath when I wash my face. But clean, light smells like fresh-cut grass or my face toner or strawberries...those I like. I can smell the neighbor's cologne from three houses down when he goes to check his mail. I can tell you all the ingredients in a marinade someone is using to grill their chicken when I'm out for a walk. If you wave at me, I can smell it. If only I knew how to use this power for good and not evil!!!

I have decided that this baby is a girl. Don't get me wrong, we'd be just as happy with a boy. No, we weren't trying for a boy because we "already had" two girls. That's ridiculous. We were trying for a baby, but I would have settled for a capuchin monkey or sea otter. We wanted and prayed for three kids and God blessed us richly. I don't know why He chose us, but I am so so so very thankful. But, I'm almost certain it's a girl because of all the old wives' tales...which are, in fact, infallible ways to determine your baby's gender. Not that I was a supermodel before, but this kid has stolen ANY beauty I had (girl). I am just as sick, if not more, than I was with the twins (girl). I did the red cabbage test and if you held the glass under natural light, it was red (boy), but if you put a flashlight behind the glass it was purple (girl). But, I did it in the morning again and it was green (alien). I'll update you on that one once I know more myself. And well, really, that's all I have. But, I've heard that girls bring on the nausea more than boys. We would be thrilled with a girl (I'm a little biased). We would be thrilled with a boy (I hear they're just as awesome). We would be thrilled no matter what with the baby God has chosen us to take care of. (I think it's a girl, though :) )

The first go-round with being babied, I couldn't eat anything for several weeks. I lost a good bit of weight. Dr. Mac had me drink Ensures for awhile. Not a problem this time, said the heifer. I'll eat anything. I mainly want cheese and meat and eggs and cheese and chips & dip and cheese. And seafood! Big, heavy stuff. I want a bison burger from Ted's Montana Grill like nobody's business. I wanted Chinese for awhile, but I think I ate too much of that. Then, it was Mexican. Right now, I'm pretty happy with egg salad sandwiches. And peaches. Okay, everything.

The other night, I was about to hop in the shower and noticed my bracelet David got me for my birthday was gone. I haven't taken it off since September 1. I freaked out and ran in and told David who was like, "Calm down, we'll find it." But, I had no idea when it fell off. It could be out in the yard or on the trail or anywhere in the house. But we had to start somewhere. I HAD to find that bracelet. It had been a crappy week and I did not need that. I said I had been rough-housing with the girls in the recliner earlier and David vacuumed around there, so he said he'd look in the vacuum. I went and felt down in the cushions of the chair, nothing. I looked underneath the chair, nothing. I went to lift up the foot rest...PAIN. There was another section of the foot rest I didn't see and it pinched the fire out of my finger. I thought it had broken it. I lowered the rest to pull my finger out, but was so mad and was desperate to find that bracelet, I lifted the rest up again and pinched my OTHER finger doing the exact same thing. The chair was crying by the time I was done with it. I'm not proud of some things I said. David heard me yelling and walked in, grinning after hearing some of the word combinations I used, and asked, "You okay?" I was a mess. Long week + missing bracelet that was very special to me + raging hormones + two "broken" bloody fingers = Ruth in a pool of tears. I went to get some bandaids and David went back to the vacuum. Then I hear, "I FOUND IT!!" And so I cried some more. It was in the vacuum, whoddathunk. I had a good cry in the shower. I always get a little homesick this time of year, too. In the spring and fall. Just homesick for my childhood, if that makes sense. I'm home when I'm with David and the girls, but you know what I mean. So, there's my chair story. We've kissed and made up and I even sat it in this morning.

Okay, that's all I have for today.

Friday, March 9, 2012

Friday...You're Here

First of all, thank you so much for the sweet, sweet comments here and on FB and through email. Hugs! They meant more than you know. :)


You guys...YOU GUYS...

I don't know that I've ever been this grouchy, overwhelmed, exhausted, or whatever ever before. Let me vent for a second and then I'll take a step back and realize I'm overreacting and acknowledge just how blessed we are.

It begins...

We've had a showing every day this week. So, statistically speaking, I AM NEVER SELLING ANOTHER HOUSE AGAIN. Sweet David keeps saying the reason we haven't sold it yet is because God isn't done with our next one yet. And he's right and I have to keep reminding myself of that. But, also, working and keeping up with two crazies and trying to keep the house looking show-worthy all. day. long. because you never know when somebody's going to stop by...it's, well...I'm over it. Soooooo over it. And I know when we're at the closing table, it'll all have been worth it, but right now, I'm gonna eat the next person that doesn't buy our house.

The girls have been sick for a week now...a.k.a. we haven't slept in a week. I look and feel like the Crypt Keeper's great-grandmother. That also means that all during the day, the girls are super fussy. I mean, I can't blame them. I'm super fussy, too. But, if you're a graphic designer, or are required to think at all during the course of your day, it kind of wears on you to constantly hear a monotonous "uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" all day long while you're trying to get work done. And they can't help it. They don't feel good. I'm just saying I'm going crazy.

When David and I planned for this new baby, I just knew it'd be one. David was a little nervous it might be two again, and we would have been okay with that, but we're both definitely grateful it's "just" one this time. However, I, in my arrogance and stupidity, thought, "Shoot. One? Piece o' cake." NO, IT'S NOT A PIECE OF CAKE. I am JUST as tired and JUST as nauseated as I was with two. God laughed at my little "oh, just one baby will be easy" plans. I'm sick all day long...much worse at night. Like Jess told Nick on New Girl this past week, I'm walking around like a Disney witch. So hunched over and ridiculous.

OKAY. I'm done venting. I realize selling a house ain't easy and it has to be at the buyer's convenience and this is all just part of it. It's just hard. And I'm very much looking forward to our new place, wherever it may be.

I wouldn't trade my snotty-nosed whiny little sickos for anything. And hearing them whine when they're sick and ask for me to hold them just reminds me of how much they have blessed our lives. I can't imagine life without them. They are perfect.

We are so thankful God has chosen to give us this new little life to care for. I have another post on that later. But, nausea and all, it's amazing and I am so happy.

Here's a video of Piper and her weird language.
video

Sunday, March 4, 2012

For Lent

It's been so crazy around here the past few weeks that I totally forgot to tell you guys what I was giving up for Lent. Mom decided to give up Chapstick or Vaseline for her lips. I asked, "Oh, are you like obsessive about putting it on even if you don't need it?" And she said, "Oh no...my lips are really chapped all the time." And I said, "Mom, you don't give up something you actually need." And she said, "No. I said Chapstick and I'm sticking to Chapstick." And by golly, people, don't you try to talk her out of it.

I thought and thought and thought about it...what to give up, what to give up. This is what I came up with.

- Unpasteurized cheese, milk, or juice (Can you actually buy that anyway?)

- More than 200mg of caffeine a day (I've calculated my chocolate intake and it's 199mg, so we're good.)

- Cold deli meat (Lame. Whatevs. I just heat the meat up to steaming.)

- Spas (Because I frequent them so often.)

- Alcohol (Y'all know I'm a lush.)

- Shark, albacore tuna, swordfish (The last time I had swordfish, I got Norwalk's disease in the South Pacific...so, never eating that again. Remind me to tell you that story later.)

- Aspirin (Fine. Tylenol's got my back.)

- Parkour (That's a tough one. It's hard for me to just drop my passion in life.)


This Lent will actually last until mid-October, so I don't know what I'm going to do without my unpasteurized goat cheese and shark salads every day.

We went and visited the Lent specialist the other week.

This "Lent" ordeal is also the reason my posts have been extra lame and sparse the past couple of weeks. In bed at 8 every night. Sigh.

And yes...just one this time. (sigh of relief)