Sunday, April 29, 2007

you'll wish I didnt bother to post


Officially we have made it through the horrible winter. We've been somewhat healthier as a group. Quinn is quickly approaching his first birthday and toddlerhood. I've lost my baby weight. We are settling into what is perhaps the first stretch of time since Darin and I have been together -- or at least certainly since I first found out I was pregnant with Mia -- that I can envision the horizon more than a few months away. We have been in survival mode since moving to Missouri: scrambling for a decent job, our next mortgage payment, etc. Now we are in a more or less reliable pattern of life. What a trip the last few years has been. holy crap.

The next two years: Darin will work at Solo on the night shift. I will work at the hospital. Mia will be in preschool; Quinn will be in daycare. In the landmark summer of 2009, Mia will be headed to kindergarten and Quinn to preschool. Big changes that year - stability in the plan until then.

It is going to be a hard sprint. Hard, but I am determined to take the time and appreciate the good. My babies will be growing up a lot in this time. Darin and I won't be seeing a ton of each other. We will be scraping every day to keep ourselves from sinking under the weight of our financial obligations and at the same time take care of our health, and try to remember to be patient and good to each other so that we may still like each other when times aren't so tight. If we work as hard as we can and everthing goes exactly right, our reward will be seemingly small: the family will stay together, in our house, reasonably healthy and not broke. No new cars, no nice clothes, no furniture, no vacations, no landscaping or remodelling, no fat savings account. Just a material breakeven as reward for the hardest work and most sacrifice I've done ever.

Don't get me wrong; I am so grateful. We've been luckier than many who are more deserving. My family is the best thing I've ever done, hands down.

I do have new empathy for people whose marriages fall apart, families are a mess, diets and exercise routines nonexistent. This responsible parenthood thing can be really hard, choices extremely limited, indulgences unheard of if not arriving in an ice cream carton. I talk to my coworkers more than I get to talk to my own husband. These are the type of years when women lose themselves and couples lose each other. I can see it there like the big ditch along highway N, a threat parallel to my path and easy to see.

My resolutions during these next few years of young motherhood:


  • Continue to lose weight, no matter how slow the process

  • play a lot with my kiddies, including in a bathing suit no matter what my vanity says

  • keep blogging - reminds me I do have my own brain and point of view. I almost forgot.

  • continue to set personal goals for myself. for myself and the example I'm setting.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

data analyst, data fatigue

I love many things about my accidental career as a data analyst, especially the part where I wind up working in the medical field.

But there are days.

Since I returned from CA there have not been many pressing projects for me, so I've spent time building templates and cruising the data, learning new ways of querying, etc. I do this with a medical code book in front of me, experimenting with criteria by diagnosis and by procedure.

After being exposed to all those thousands of medical cases, a few things:

1. Diabetes BAD.
2. Uncontrolled diabetes DOUBLY BAD.
3. Many people tempt fate with their lifestyle over many years. These people fill the files, and it really sucks to think how much of it could have been avoided.
4. A few others really do not, and that perhaps sucks even more.
5. There better be a special place in Hell for people who abuse little babies.
6. Some people in their nineties survive some crazy stuff, and roll out of there just dandy, thank you very much.
7. I love Wikipedia.
8. Surgery, like airplane flight, might be a big scary deal to you the consumer, but seen in the aggregate is impressive and reassuring in its routine success and professionalism.

Monday, April 16, 2007

bummer. but i'm over it.

I really thought a blog by me would be more clever observation, deep thoughts, etc, less "look how my kids are cute today." But c'est la vie. Or at least c'est ma vie.
I do have other things rolling around my brain. Perhaps one day inspiration will coincide with energy.
Meantime: Here are a few more pics. First, Grandpa and Mia coloring eggs on Easter Eve. Are they cute or what? Second, some Quinn. Phil and Colleen: I need a lesson on how to do cool photo montages like you guys.














Back to work in old Bethlehem

I've been trying to put my nose to the grindstone since being back from California. The universe has not exactly been cooperating. Quinn got as sick as I've ever seen him last week, and I wound up missing two days of work. UGH. I used up all my paid time off for the vacation. Just tempting fate, I know.

Today Mia had an appointment across the street from my building at 9:45 with an otalaryngologist (one of my very favorite English words. Say it three times fast. It will make you smile if you are as twisted as me). Darin took her, and after the appointment they came to meet me. By the way, her ears are fine. Fluid, but nothing to worry about.

As a trio we walked over the skywalk into the hospital to buy Mia one of the 60 cent frozen yogurts at the "Atrium Cafe." Hand in hand we passed Same Day Surgery, Radiology, then turned the corner towards the Labor and Delivery Unit-- the last section before hitting the Cafe. So I point out to Mia, "here is where Quinnie was born." "Why?" she asks. I answer, "Because this is the part of the hospital everyone comes to have their baby born." As loud as she can, in astonished voice: "BABY JESUS WAS BORN HERE?"

Sidelong glaces from nurses, passing members of public, geriatric visitors to same day surgery, no smiles. Not amused by heathen child. Brace yourselves, Bible belters. I unleash upon you my Godless brood.

We heap on the ignorance, upon the ignorance.

"No hon, baby Jesus was born far away and a long time ago."

"Well, my baby Jesus is in my tummy. She will come out when she is big enough."

What the heck to say? "Sweetie, if your baby is a girl, you should name her something else. Jesus is a boy's name." Long ago I gave up trying to argue with her about her pregnancy.

"NO! My baby Jesus is a girl."

"Okay, that's fine. Want some ice cream?"

Saturday, April 7, 2007

Aye aye

Mia to Quinn, as he is crawling around the house this afternoon:

"where ya goin, Captain Peter?"

Friday, April 6, 2007

Notes on the Trip




We are back from our great California adventure. It was exhausting, but well worth the effort. The kids were troopers I have to say. It must be hard to spend 6 days sitting, waiting, arriving in rooms full of grown ups talking about who knows what, getting no playtime, spending hours in the car, and eating the crappiest food you ever have. There was actually a point at the airport in Denver when I was feeding my 8 month old child KFC mashed potatoes and bits of a biscuit. Hello yuppie travellers, observe the ghetto mamma.

When you lose that jar of wholesome Gerber baby food and drop your last piece of Zweiback toast on the nasty floor of the terminal, I defy you to find anything better in the airport for your hungry little wannabe toddler. Yes, I suppose I am defensive.

Another bit of info that gives some insight into our trip: Quinn HATES the car. For anyone who knows the area you will appreciate that he screamed from Arden Fair mall in Sacramento CONTINUOUSLY until we passed Milk Farm Road in Dixon. I think we all hated each other by the time that little car ride from Hell finally came to an end at the outlet mall in Vacaville.

I think I'm done venting. Now for the happy observations.

Mia had the time of her life from day one, despite any trials of the road. From playing with her cousins at Norm's house to helping Tim cut strawberries for our dessert, she was a star. And man does that girl love to dance. She danced and danced at Matt's wedding till she literally dropped. I love it!

It was awesome to see the Maffeis again. I have been so out of touch with any friend I might have since we moved to Missouri. Sometimes I felt like I had nothing positive to say so I didn't call to say anything at all. And then Matt invites me to his wedding and Mark, Sandy, Gina, Andrew... they all just welcome my family into theirs like three years have not just gone by. It made me realize that as I get older I need to hang on to these people who I have essentially grown up with. It is a precious thing to be reminded where you came from. That you have bonds with people that are worth attending to. I'm happy to say I've got good people. Now I should keep in touch with them!

For weeks and weeks before the trip I was sick. Very sick and very overhwhelmed with being sick, being alone with the kids almost constantly, going to work, and doing it all on as little as two or three hours sleep. I had this respiratory infection I couldn't kick and an ear infection that migrated into all sinus cavities.

A couple of days before we left I broke down and called my mom and asked her for help.
My parents always say they don't want to intrude. I think they fear being the Ray Romano type of parents, always coming over and butting in. They are very busy, loathe be "pesky"or presumptive-- and self-sufficiency is a Martell family value-- nay, a religious principle. Perhaps as a result of all of these well meaning factors we go weeks without seeing each other. It is not automatic that I would call Grandma to ride to my rescue.

But ride she did! She came over after Darin went to work one night to help with kids so I could get some packing done. I was sick as a dog, burning with fever, numb from sinus pain, wracked with coughing, all horrible stuff. She sent me to bed at 7pm. Sweet glorious sleep! What a luxury, to lay in bed alone at 7pm. Holy Moly.

Thank you Mom. I have felt good for two weeks now. A record! I think it's because you gave me the gift of sleep and motherly concern. Can't remember the last time someone put their hand on MY forehead.

Pop over anytime! Bring that Grandpa guy too.