I just came from my "last" prenatal appointment.
Based on the exam, I think that is a very good thing as I am still only dilated to apx 1+1/2 centimeters. (I've been dilated to apx 1+1/2 centimeters since about a month ago when I was checked for the very first time back in San Diego.) Now, perhaps there isn't as much dilating going on because there is no head pushing down onto my pelvis, but also that would tend to indicate that I'd probably not be having this baby here any time soon without the C-section. It might be a few more weeks before anything starts progressing. (ugh!) Or that might mean I'd need to be induced. (double ugh!)
Dr. Huxtable (not his real name) said that the baby is trying to move down (which explains all the pain and pressure on my pelvis) but that it isn't really happening because the butt doesn't fit in as well where the head is supposed to go. Then he said that he definitely felt a nice squishy bottom there where the head "ought" to be and the heartbeat is still high. How special.
So, apparently we are all set to go for next Wednesday. (But the Doctor did tell me to take it easy this weekend and stay hydrated to ensure I don't go into labor sooner.)
And, still we wait.
buck·eye - noun, \ˈbək-ˌī\ 1: any of various shrubs or trees (genus Aesculus) of the horse-chestnut family; also : the large nutlike seed of such a shrub or tree 2: capitalized : a native or resident of Ohio — used as a nickname
Friday, June 26, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
"Good Things Come to Those Who Wait"
It seems that for Matt and I, all that's left is the waiting.
The new house is organized, as much as it is ever going to be, for now. Even the pictures are hung on the walls. The only thing we're still waiting on is the cable guy (who FINALLY comes tomorrow.)
Matt was able to get checked into school early. He wasn't supposed to get started checking in until this Friday, but they let him in early because of the baby. Next week he has some things to do on Monday and Tuesday, and he needs to buy textbooks, but pretty much other than that he is mine until the 6th (Happy Birthday Uncle Joe) when his classes officially begin.
As of today I am 38 weeks and 2 days pregnant.
Friday at my appointment with the new doctor the baby was still sitting breech so after a lengthy ultrasound and some discussion he decided to schedule a C-Section. It was interesting meeting this new doctor because he is so very different then the midwife I was seeing in San Diego. To begin with, he's a man, and he's probably several years older. He came in wearing scrubs and immediately apologized for meeting me for the first time after working 4 nights in a row. Then while we talked he joked around about the pitfalls of pregnancy and when we discussed breast feeding he warned me about the "Nipple Nazis" at the hospital here. "CHOMP," you see (AKA the Community Hospital of Monterey Peninsula) is proud to have been named the "41st Baby-friendly" Family birthing center in the US, and has earned awards for the support it gives to breast feeding mothers. Basically, Dr. Huxtable (which is really who he reminds me of) said that if I didn't want to breast feed that was 100% okay by him but I'll have to be ready to fight off much of the nursing staff.
Good to know.
And I still have decided for sure.
Anyway, after consulting with Matt's schedule at school, we are all signed up to go in for the Parent-Making surgery Wednesday, July 1 at noon.
How very exciting.
And also terrifying.
People keep asking me if I feel disappointed that the baby is turned "wrong" and I won't get to delivery normally. I think my answer to that is no. I mean, my mother had to C-sections, so I guess I grew up thinking that was just the way to go. I've also had close to 3 weeks to get used to the idea. I mean, sure I'd love to deliver vaginally and be able to share horror stories (or not) with all my girl friends and compare war wounds (so to speak, because otherwise, EW,) but, I guess it's just not in the cards for us. Also, based on the few rounds of contractions I've had so far, I'm feeling happy to kind of just skip them.
Seeing as Matt and I are the parents of this child... I'm not really surprised this is how things are going. My husband, the notorious jokester, will often do anything to complicate a situation just for the fun of it. It would figure that while this pregnancy has annoyed me for the last 9 months it has gone perfectly smoothly until the last month when suddenly the position of the baby is revealed and we are labelled "High Risk."
Actually come to think of it maybe Matt and I should get t-shirts made that say that. They would be very fitting. Hahah.
Meanwhile, I am ridiculously stubborn. Matt often explains my behavior by saying, "Jen is going to do, what Jen wants to do, and nobody is going to change her mind." As weird as it is to hear my husband say that about me, he's right. Once I set my mind on something there is NO changing it.
Apparently, the baby has set it's little mind on sitting on it's bum, and nobody is going to tell it to go the another way.
My child, ladies and gentleman, proving to be difficult before even making an entrance into the world.
*Applause*
So yea. Now we wait. I stare at the suitcase and the list of stuff to take the hospital and I procrastinate about packing. I wander in and out of the baby's room flipping through books and making sure everything is ready. I freak myself out about the c-section by watching disgusting videos on You-Tube. I go to the pool and float around (its AMAZING how buoyant a baby-belly makes you) like a big pale walrus to relieve the swelling in my arms and legs. I spoil the dog in case I neglect him a little in the coming months. Matt, well, he plays video games.
After all those years of Marching Band one would think I'd be better at playing the "Hurry Up and Wait" game. I feel like an airplane in a holding pattern circling above my new life, just waiting for the clearance to land and get started.
The great debate of course, is whether or not "knowing" when the baby is scheduled to come makes the waiting easier or harder to handle.
The jury is still out.
I've begun to wonder if it is possible to annoy God with your prayers. I mean, obviously it isn't supposed to be, but for the last few weeks my prayers are looping. "Please Lord let us get settled before the baby comes, Let someone rent out our house SOON, Let the baby be healthy, Bring me through the delivery safely, protect and watch over our friends and family, but oh by the way if you could please send a nice family to us to rent our house it would reduce SO VERY much of our stress...."
But of course I can't end with that, not that the Lord doesn't know my true heart, but I can't possibly come off like I am more concerned about finances than the baby, (even though at this point I probably am, a little,) so I rewind back on myself "and Lord, please get the baby and I safely through this delivery and watch over our friends and family.... etc, etc, etc...)
As if asking more than once makes any difference.
There was time when I was kid where I convinced myself that God wouldn't know who I was unless I told him my name at the beginning and the end of my prayers. Lately, I think I am rivalling my own previous ridiculous behaviors.
Waiting stinks.
Oh, and P.S...
My friend Allison wanted to see photos of the baby's room... so here it is so far. Go Bucks and Enjoy!
The new house is organized, as much as it is ever going to be, for now. Even the pictures are hung on the walls. The only thing we're still waiting on is the cable guy (who FINALLY comes tomorrow.)
Matt was able to get checked into school early. He wasn't supposed to get started checking in until this Friday, but they let him in early because of the baby. Next week he has some things to do on Monday and Tuesday, and he needs to buy textbooks, but pretty much other than that he is mine until the 6th (Happy Birthday Uncle Joe) when his classes officially begin.
As of today I am 38 weeks and 2 days pregnant.
Friday at my appointment with the new doctor the baby was still sitting breech so after a lengthy ultrasound and some discussion he decided to schedule a C-Section. It was interesting meeting this new doctor because he is so very different then the midwife I was seeing in San Diego. To begin with, he's a man, and he's probably several years older. He came in wearing scrubs and immediately apologized for meeting me for the first time after working 4 nights in a row. Then while we talked he joked around about the pitfalls of pregnancy and when we discussed breast feeding he warned me about the "Nipple Nazis" at the hospital here. "CHOMP," you see (AKA the Community Hospital of Monterey Peninsula) is proud to have been named the "41st Baby-friendly" Family birthing center in the US, and has earned awards for the support it gives to breast feeding mothers. Basically, Dr. Huxtable (which is really who he reminds me of) said that if I didn't want to breast feed that was 100% okay by him but I'll have to be ready to fight off much of the nursing staff.
Good to know.
And I still have decided for sure.
Anyway, after consulting with Matt's schedule at school, we are all signed up to go in for the Parent-Making surgery Wednesday, July 1 at noon.
How very exciting.
And also terrifying.
People keep asking me if I feel disappointed that the baby is turned "wrong" and I won't get to delivery normally. I think my answer to that is no. I mean, my mother had to C-sections, so I guess I grew up thinking that was just the way to go. I've also had close to 3 weeks to get used to the idea. I mean, sure I'd love to deliver vaginally and be able to share horror stories (or not) with all my girl friends and compare war wounds (so to speak, because otherwise, EW,) but, I guess it's just not in the cards for us. Also, based on the few rounds of contractions I've had so far, I'm feeling happy to kind of just skip them.
Seeing as Matt and I are the parents of this child... I'm not really surprised this is how things are going. My husband, the notorious jokester, will often do anything to complicate a situation just for the fun of it. It would figure that while this pregnancy has annoyed me for the last 9 months it has gone perfectly smoothly until the last month when suddenly the position of the baby is revealed and we are labelled "High Risk."
Actually come to think of it maybe Matt and I should get t-shirts made that say that. They would be very fitting. Hahah.
Meanwhile, I am ridiculously stubborn. Matt often explains my behavior by saying, "Jen is going to do, what Jen wants to do, and nobody is going to change her mind." As weird as it is to hear my husband say that about me, he's right. Once I set my mind on something there is NO changing it.
Apparently, the baby has set it's little mind on sitting on it's bum, and nobody is going to tell it to go the another way.
My child, ladies and gentleman, proving to be difficult before even making an entrance into the world.
*Applause*
So yea. Now we wait. I stare at the suitcase and the list of stuff to take the hospital and I procrastinate about packing. I wander in and out of the baby's room flipping through books and making sure everything is ready. I freak myself out about the c-section by watching disgusting videos on You-Tube. I go to the pool and float around (its AMAZING how buoyant a baby-belly makes you) like a big pale walrus to relieve the swelling in my arms and legs. I spoil the dog in case I neglect him a little in the coming months. Matt, well, he plays video games.
After all those years of Marching Band one would think I'd be better at playing the "Hurry Up and Wait" game. I feel like an airplane in a holding pattern circling above my new life, just waiting for the clearance to land and get started.
The great debate of course, is whether or not "knowing" when the baby is scheduled to come makes the waiting easier or harder to handle.
The jury is still out.
I've begun to wonder if it is possible to annoy God with your prayers. I mean, obviously it isn't supposed to be, but for the last few weeks my prayers are looping. "Please Lord let us get settled before the baby comes, Let someone rent out our house SOON, Let the baby be healthy, Bring me through the delivery safely, protect and watch over our friends and family, but oh by the way if you could please send a nice family to us to rent our house it would reduce SO VERY much of our stress...."
But of course I can't end with that, not that the Lord doesn't know my true heart, but I can't possibly come off like I am more concerned about finances than the baby, (even though at this point I probably am, a little,) so I rewind back on myself "and Lord, please get the baby and I safely through this delivery and watch over our friends and family.... etc, etc, etc...)
As if asking more than once makes any difference.
There was time when I was kid where I convinced myself that God wouldn't know who I was unless I told him my name at the beginning and the end of my prayers. Lately, I think I am rivalling my own previous ridiculous behaviors.
Waiting stinks.
Oh, and P.S...
My friend Allison wanted to see photos of the baby's room... so here it is so far. Go Bucks and Enjoy!
Friday, June 19, 2009
The week in review
When last I blogged it was the morning of our first full day in Monterey. Wow. A lot has happened since then.
A few hours after my previous post, the movers arrived. From about 10:00 that morning until around 2:00 that afternoon they first unloaded the truck of all our boxes and all our furniture and then they unloaded all our boxes.... leaving the contents of said boxes ALL OVER THE PLACE.
There are 2 schools of thought on the Navy movers. Some say they should just drop the boxes and go, leaving you to unpack them at your own leisure. Unfortunately, this also leaves you with all the packing material to dispose of. On the other hand, there are people, like me, who'd rather have the movers unpack all the boxes, despite the ENORMOUS mess they leave behind because it frees you from the nightmare of paper and box disposal. Also, the mess means you are forced to get your house together faster, or else risk insanity.
In this particular instance, with they movers coming just shy of 3 weeks prior to my due date I definitely opted to have the boxes unpacked.
Here is the result in my dining room:
And also my kitchen:
*shudder*
Needless to say Matt and I spent the rest of our Tuesday trying to get things put away. By bedtime that night the the kitchen, dining and living room, along with our bathrooms and bedroom were at maybe 75%.
Wednesday morning I had a doctors appointment. The lovely Navy medical insurance program that is so easy to navigate when you live in a fleet concentration area turns into a real bitch when you move to some place else. Monterey, while home to Navel Postgraduate School isn't a Navy-ful town enough for Military health care, so we have to make the transition to civilian health care.
This meant that first we had to turn in a lot of paperwork. (Matt did that on Tuesday.) Then Wednesday I had to go "establish care" with my new Primary Care doctor. Matt had made the appointment ahead of time, so I could go in, have my pregnancy confirmed and get referred to an OB/Gyn. I loved the part where I had to get medical confirmation of my pregnancy. As if Tri-Care hasn't been paying for my prenatal appointments for 8 months already. And as if any 3 year old on the street couldn't tell you I was pregnant.
Seriously, I wanted to walk in and be like, "Help me, I recently noticed an enormous amount of swelling in my midsection!!!"
But whatever, the appointment was short and the primary care doctor called around and found me a good OB. When it was all said and done, I was scheduled to see my new OB/Gyn Friday morning.
So anyway, the doctor ate up most of Wednesday morning and the rest of the day we shockingly spent organizing the house. By bedtime on Wednesday, we'd gotten the baby's room set up and all in all I'd say the house at a whole was about 80%.
The baby furniture and paraphernalia took a TON of time what with all the packaging that had to be torn through and the assembly that was required. Also, I came to the conclusion that although we spent a decent amount of money on what is supposed to be a very good quality crib, the manufactures are morons...
...as this was the label showing us the "right" side of the crib.
To celebrate our triumph over the nightmare of Baby room assembly we treated ourselves to dinner out that evening. And when we came home we were shocked to see a small family of 5 deer running through the neighborhood. Unfortunately, the photo isn't very good. It was getting dark and the flash was highlighting all the wrong things. Still, after a little digital adjustment, you can see a few of our visitors.
Our first mission on Thursday was to get rid of the packing material we still had from the few random boxes we'd asked the movers not to unload and ALL the baby furniture as the boxes were limiting out ability to walk in down the hall upstairs. Matt broke all the cardboard down and we took it over to a recycling center. Then we picked up some needed items at Target before coming home, hanging the curtains in the baby's room and FINALLY organizing the guest room.
So this morning we fond our mess was suddenly starting to look like a home. Hip-hip-Hooray!!! Matt started hanging pictures while he waited around for the delivery of our new washer and dryer while I headed off to see the OB/Gyn.
The doctor did his exam and ultrasound and determined that the baby is still very breech. And not moving. Well, I mean, there is movement, lots of it, just not the sort to make anyone think that this time next week the head might be down. He measured and estimated the baby is still between 7.5 and 8 lbs. He looked at the heart and saw that it is healthy and beating strong, he checked that the lungs are doing their thing and the umbilical chord is doing whatever it is an umbilical is supposed to be doing that shows the baby is ready for delivery. He did all this because he doesn't think we are good candidate to try and turn the baby. He's recommending we do a C-section in a week or so. At this point it is just a matter of me getting all registered at the hospital and finding a date that won't conflict with Matt's orientation schedule.
I find it funny how Matt is reacting to the news of the C-section, because I think I am reacting the same way. It isn't like we didn't know it was possible, especially since we found out about the position of the baby. But suddenly it became so real. So. Very. Real. The baby is coming, and probably at least a week sooner than the due date. There probably will be no waiting or guessing about whether or not I'm in labor. There won't be any breathing and pushing. There will be something else entirely. Something, surgical. Wow.
All that's left is to pack a bag, check the calendar and pick a date.
Double Wow.
A few hours after my previous post, the movers arrived. From about 10:00 that morning until around 2:00 that afternoon they first unloaded the truck of all our boxes and all our furniture and then they unloaded all our boxes.... leaving the contents of said boxes ALL OVER THE PLACE.
There are 2 schools of thought on the Navy movers. Some say they should just drop the boxes and go, leaving you to unpack them at your own leisure. Unfortunately, this also leaves you with all the packing material to dispose of. On the other hand, there are people, like me, who'd rather have the movers unpack all the boxes, despite the ENORMOUS mess they leave behind because it frees you from the nightmare of paper and box disposal. Also, the mess means you are forced to get your house together faster, or else risk insanity.
In this particular instance, with they movers coming just shy of 3 weeks prior to my due date I definitely opted to have the boxes unpacked.
Here is the result in my dining room:
And also my kitchen:
*shudder*
Needless to say Matt and I spent the rest of our Tuesday trying to get things put away. By bedtime that night the the kitchen, dining and living room, along with our bathrooms and bedroom were at maybe 75%.
Wednesday morning I had a doctors appointment. The lovely Navy medical insurance program that is so easy to navigate when you live in a fleet concentration area turns into a real bitch when you move to some place else. Monterey, while home to Navel Postgraduate School isn't a Navy-ful town enough for Military health care, so we have to make the transition to civilian health care.
This meant that first we had to turn in a lot of paperwork. (Matt did that on Tuesday.) Then Wednesday I had to go "establish care" with my new Primary Care doctor. Matt had made the appointment ahead of time, so I could go in, have my pregnancy confirmed and get referred to an OB/Gyn. I loved the part where I had to get medical confirmation of my pregnancy. As if Tri-Care hasn't been paying for my prenatal appointments for 8 months already. And as if any 3 year old on the street couldn't tell you I was pregnant.
Seriously, I wanted to walk in and be like, "Help me, I recently noticed an enormous amount of swelling in my midsection!!!"
But whatever, the appointment was short and the primary care doctor called around and found me a good OB. When it was all said and done, I was scheduled to see my new OB/Gyn Friday morning.
So anyway, the doctor ate up most of Wednesday morning and the rest of the day we shockingly spent organizing the house. By bedtime on Wednesday, we'd gotten the baby's room set up and all in all I'd say the house at a whole was about 80%.
The baby furniture and paraphernalia took a TON of time what with all the packaging that had to be torn through and the assembly that was required. Also, I came to the conclusion that although we spent a decent amount of money on what is supposed to be a very good quality crib, the manufactures are morons...
...as this was the label showing us the "right" side of the crib.
To celebrate our triumph over the nightmare of Baby room assembly we treated ourselves to dinner out that evening. And when we came home we were shocked to see a small family of 5 deer running through the neighborhood. Unfortunately, the photo isn't very good. It was getting dark and the flash was highlighting all the wrong things. Still, after a little digital adjustment, you can see a few of our visitors.
Our first mission on Thursday was to get rid of the packing material we still had from the few random boxes we'd asked the movers not to unload and ALL the baby furniture as the boxes were limiting out ability to walk in down the hall upstairs. Matt broke all the cardboard down and we took it over to a recycling center. Then we picked up some needed items at Target before coming home, hanging the curtains in the baby's room and FINALLY organizing the guest room.
So this morning we fond our mess was suddenly starting to look like a home. Hip-hip-Hooray!!! Matt started hanging pictures while he waited around for the delivery of our new washer and dryer while I headed off to see the OB/Gyn.
The doctor did his exam and ultrasound and determined that the baby is still very breech. And not moving. Well, I mean, there is movement, lots of it, just not the sort to make anyone think that this time next week the head might be down. He measured and estimated the baby is still between 7.5 and 8 lbs. He looked at the heart and saw that it is healthy and beating strong, he checked that the lungs are doing their thing and the umbilical chord is doing whatever it is an umbilical is supposed to be doing that shows the baby is ready for delivery. He did all this because he doesn't think we are good candidate to try and turn the baby. He's recommending we do a C-section in a week or so. At this point it is just a matter of me getting all registered at the hospital and finding a date that won't conflict with Matt's orientation schedule.
I find it funny how Matt is reacting to the news of the C-section, because I think I am reacting the same way. It isn't like we didn't know it was possible, especially since we found out about the position of the baby. But suddenly it became so real. So. Very. Real. The baby is coming, and probably at least a week sooner than the due date. There probably will be no waiting or guessing about whether or not I'm in labor. There won't be any breathing and pushing. There will be something else entirely. Something, surgical. Wow.
All that's left is to pack a bag, check the calendar and pick a date.
Double Wow.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Moving Day
The Night Before
As you know the movers came and took most of our worldly possessions away last Tuesday. We kept with us our laptops, a small TV, an air mattress, a camping cot and chair, a set of sheets and comforter, a good heavy blanket, bags of clothes for each of us, an "emergency" set of baby stuff just in case, all the cleaning supplies and of course our pets.
Tuesday night through Saturday night everything was pretty good. However, on Sunday we loaded most of that stuff up into Matt's car and drove it up to Fallbrook so my friend's husband could drive it up to Monterey for us. A lot of people had warned me by 37 weeks pregnant I'd be in no mood to drive that far. (They were probably right, but I was more worried about Matt and I getting separated and then me going into labor at a gas station in the middle of nowhere or something.) In Matt's car went the camping cot and chair, the big warm comforter, all the baby stuff, most of our clothes and the cleaning supplies (as well as a lot of other junk that seemed to start coming out of the woodwork once the movers left.)
So, you know, we thought it was no big deal. We still had our air mattress to sleep on and the big heavy blanket. What we didn't consider is that our very "loved" (i.e. spoiled) pets would be in no mood to sleep on the floor. We also didn't plan on it being unseasonably cool that night.
Let me sum up this "tail" (har, har) by telling you all that at 3 or 4 in the morning Matt and I found ourselves clinging to one another as we were freezing to death. The dog meanwhile was whining and shivering so he came under the blanket between us (and man were his feet cold!) As if that wasn't bad enough, the fat (and now mostly bald) cat has apparently been freezing since his haircut crawled in on top of my feet.
I don't know where the skinny cat was actually which is strange because he's usually the first to climb in the bed with us.
All in all though, it was a very strange last night in San Diego sharing a blanket with my spouse who's usually a nuclear power plant for heat, the dog and one very funny looking cat.
The Drive
Eventually, morning came and it was time for us to face the day, pack up the rest of the stuff into my car and head out. Matt mopped the kitchen floor one last time then loaded (shoved) everything into the back of my car, while I ran the vacuum over the WONDERFUL new carpet we had put in (I can't believe how nice it is and that I only got to enjoy it for 4 days.) The whole time I pretty much cried like a baby (I blame the hormones.)
Somehow, magically, there once everything was packed there was almost the entire backseat available for the cats and dog to share. Still, this had us a little worried:
KC and Brutus tend to "fight" all day long and Chase spends a large portion of any given day perched on something and batting Brutus on the head whenever he runs by. I was a little afraid we were going to get Wrestle Mania 2009 going on in the back for 7 hours. But no, this was not at all the case. Brutus laid down and went right into a drowsy half-sleep. KC shoved himself into a corner head first and found his Happy Place. Chase, on the other hand LOST HIS MIND.
Let me sum the first hour and a half up for you:
Matt: (Driving)
KC & Brutus: (Seemingly, comatose)
Chase: Meow, Meeeeow, Merrrow, Mew, meeeeee, Meow
Me: Shhh, Kitty, it'll be okay
Chase: Meow, meow, meow, meow, MEOWMEOWMEOW!!! (While crawling all over everything.)
Me: Chase, kitty, buddy, man, Calm down!
Chase: MEEEE-OOOOOW!!!! pant pant pant* (While attempting to crawl all over Matt who was trying to drive through morning traffic and in the process getting his arm scratched up.)
Me: Oh Kitty, for the LOVE of GOD!!!
Chase: Meow, meow, meow, (pant, pant) meowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeow, (pant, pant pant)meow, meow......!!!
*Yes he really was panting.
It pretty much went on like that until somewhere just south of LA at which point Matt pulled over and we dug out the little travelling crate and locked Chase in it. For some reason this calmed him down mostly and we only heard random peeps from him after that.
So we drove on. Brutus dozed on top of my pillow in the back seat the entire time unless Matt drove over something loud at which point he would lift his head up and his ears went all funny. Chase sat in his crate and was unhappy. KC, meanwhile, hadn't gotten his own spot on the seat and mashed himself down into a tiny space on the floor between our computer bags and a half a case of diet Pepsi. I reclined my seat just enough that my enormous belly was no longer resting ON my lap and tried to keep everything from falling asleep. Inside my tummy the baby hiccuped a lot and judging by the movements I felt probably, did a little yoga between my very sporadic contractions.
Cut to, apx 7 hours later.
Arriving
Naturally the first thing we did was go to the housing office and pick up our keys. Man was I ever glad to have already signed the lease, but it still took forever to get what we needed.
Then we came to the new house, released our little herd and tried to unload the car. Brutus was alternating between laps around the yard and sprints up and down the stairs. KC and Chase set off exploring, presumably trying very hard to find the location of their litter box and food which we were scrambling to get out for them.
Not long after our arrival, I too began feeling, the "need," so to speak. Apparently 7 hours in a car eating nothing but Burger King was having a number on my tummy. The problem was of course, that we didn't have any toilet paper. We'd bought a whole new package earlier in the week, but it had gone in the other car. The car that wasn't going to be arriving until the next day. And in a random fit of niceness (stupidity) I left the last 2 rolls we had in the 2 bathrooms at our house for the future renters. Oops. I looked for some tissues. Nope. Paper towels? Nope. Baby wipes? Nada. Everything like that had gone in the other car.
Matt was immediately dispatched to the mini-mart in search of supplies. And, also, dinner.
Then Brutus peed all over the living room floor.
I should have expected it because that tends to happen when he gets to a new place but I found myself desperate not to have the stain soak in. I scrambled to find any sort of paper that might absorb the mess... because the only towels we had need to last us until Friday when the washer gets delivered. Tearing through bags, I eventually settled on... Coffee filters.
Not the best plan, but they did soak up some of the mess.
The trouble was, I still REALLY had to go. And, while I danced around as long as I could the moment soon came when nature wasn't going to be put off any longer. I contemplated going next door to the neighbors who I'd be sharing a wall with for the next 18 months and begging but this seemed too embarrassing. I considered doing my business and just sitting there, waiting it out until Matt got back but that really seemed just as embarrassing.
So I decided to try the coffee filters out for myself.
In fairness, they did the job nicely.
Trouble was they also clogged the heck out of the toilet.
And, the plunger was definitely NOT an item we felt essential enough to bring along with us in the car.
So, when Matt returned a few minutes later, he found his blob of a wife, bordering on hysterical over the two humongous messes she had to clean up after only 15 minutes time left alone in her new home.
Man is that ever a good sign.
Not.
Luckily, Matt had bought paper towels. I'll skip the rest of the clean up details.
And just think, the baby is still to come....
Oh and one last thing.
The Chase
At some point around dusk I thought I heard the doorbell. It turned out to be the neighbor's doorbell but that quickly became beside the point. The trouble was, when Matt opened the front door to see what if anyone was there, Brutus ran out.
Brutus is a Shiba Inu. Shiba Inu's are runners. Everything you will ever read about them says Shiba Inu's are NEVER to be trusted off leash. While they are very loyal to their people, they just love to run entirely too much.
And Brutus was OFF running.
(In a brand new neighborhood that is bordered by woods where none of us knows our way around.)
I tried not to panic.
Matt followed the dog and told me to go inside.
Brutus has gotten out 3 times before. Each time, he runs and runs, all the while checking to see that his people are behind him. Matt and I are both very curious how far he'd go if nobody followed him. Or if he's be smart enough to find his way back. We're just really not willing to test it and find out.
So, after about 35 seconds I, wearing my brightly striped pajama pants, and "Pregnant is the New Skinny" tank top, threw on my flip flops and charged out after Matt and my little escapee.
I barely caught a glimpse of them turning a corner maybe 5 blocks up. By the time I got to that corner, they were no where in sight. Then I caught a glimpse of them coming back around from behind me. Apparently Brutus had decided to circle the block. When he saw me, he came running, just not too me. He wanted me to chase him too. A random jogging dude came along and together with Matt and I we started to box in the crazy dog which of course only made the game more fun for my puppy.
Thankfully two more blocks up the road a large family with a chihuahua was on their front porch watching the whole thing go down. The chihuahua was going BALLISTIC. Brutus went to check him out and a man in the family thankfully grabbed him and held him until Matt caught up and could carry him home.
It was all I could do not to kiss the random man.
The random man looked me over and told me I probably should not be chasing a dog through the neighborhood in my current condition. I feebly thanked him and tried to explain that we'd only moved in a few hours earlier. I decided to skip the part about how I really would have to say at this point I love the dog a lot more than my unborn child. At this point the dog IS my baby. It's a tangibility thing, as the baby doesn't seem real to me yet.
Anyway, Matt carried Brutus home. I tried not to get hysterical again thinking about what might have happened. We all went home and eventually went to bed.
As you know the movers came and took most of our worldly possessions away last Tuesday. We kept with us our laptops, a small TV, an air mattress, a camping cot and chair, a set of sheets and comforter, a good heavy blanket, bags of clothes for each of us, an "emergency" set of baby stuff just in case, all the cleaning supplies and of course our pets.
Tuesday night through Saturday night everything was pretty good. However, on Sunday we loaded most of that stuff up into Matt's car and drove it up to Fallbrook so my friend's husband could drive it up to Monterey for us. A lot of people had warned me by 37 weeks pregnant I'd be in no mood to drive that far. (They were probably right, but I was more worried about Matt and I getting separated and then me going into labor at a gas station in the middle of nowhere or something.) In Matt's car went the camping cot and chair, the big warm comforter, all the baby stuff, most of our clothes and the cleaning supplies (as well as a lot of other junk that seemed to start coming out of the woodwork once the movers left.)
So, you know, we thought it was no big deal. We still had our air mattress to sleep on and the big heavy blanket. What we didn't consider is that our very "loved" (i.e. spoiled) pets would be in no mood to sleep on the floor. We also didn't plan on it being unseasonably cool that night.
Let me sum up this "tail" (har, har) by telling you all that at 3 or 4 in the morning Matt and I found ourselves clinging to one another as we were freezing to death. The dog meanwhile was whining and shivering so he came under the blanket between us (and man were his feet cold!) As if that wasn't bad enough, the fat (and now mostly bald) cat has apparently been freezing since his haircut crawled in on top of my feet.
I don't know where the skinny cat was actually which is strange because he's usually the first to climb in the bed with us.
All in all though, it was a very strange last night in San Diego sharing a blanket with my spouse who's usually a nuclear power plant for heat, the dog and one very funny looking cat.
The Drive
Eventually, morning came and it was time for us to face the day, pack up the rest of the stuff into my car and head out. Matt mopped the kitchen floor one last time then loaded (shoved) everything into the back of my car, while I ran the vacuum over the WONDERFUL new carpet we had put in (I can't believe how nice it is and that I only got to enjoy it for 4 days.) The whole time I pretty much cried like a baby (I blame the hormones.)
Somehow, magically, there once everything was packed there was almost the entire backseat available for the cats and dog to share. Still, this had us a little worried:
KC and Brutus tend to "fight" all day long and Chase spends a large portion of any given day perched on something and batting Brutus on the head whenever he runs by. I was a little afraid we were going to get Wrestle Mania 2009 going on in the back for 7 hours. But no, this was not at all the case. Brutus laid down and went right into a drowsy half-sleep. KC shoved himself into a corner head first and found his Happy Place. Chase, on the other hand LOST HIS MIND.
Let me sum the first hour and a half up for you:
Matt: (Driving)
KC & Brutus: (Seemingly, comatose)
Chase: Meow, Meeeeow, Merrrow, Mew, meeeeee, Meow
Me: Shhh, Kitty, it'll be okay
Chase: Meow, meow, meow, meow, MEOWMEOWMEOW!!! (While crawling all over everything.)
Me: Chase, kitty, buddy, man, Calm down!
Chase: MEEEE-OOOOOW!!!! pant pant pant* (While attempting to crawl all over Matt who was trying to drive through morning traffic and in the process getting his arm scratched up.)
Me: Oh Kitty, for the LOVE of GOD!!!
Chase: Meow, meow, meow, (pant, pant) meowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeow, (pant, pant pant)meow, meow......!!!
*Yes he really was panting.
It pretty much went on like that until somewhere just south of LA at which point Matt pulled over and we dug out the little travelling crate and locked Chase in it. For some reason this calmed him down mostly and we only heard random peeps from him after that.
So we drove on. Brutus dozed on top of my pillow in the back seat the entire time unless Matt drove over something loud at which point he would lift his head up and his ears went all funny. Chase sat in his crate and was unhappy. KC, meanwhile, hadn't gotten his own spot on the seat and mashed himself down into a tiny space on the floor between our computer bags and a half a case of diet Pepsi. I reclined my seat just enough that my enormous belly was no longer resting ON my lap and tried to keep everything from falling asleep. Inside my tummy the baby hiccuped a lot and judging by the movements I felt probably, did a little yoga between my very sporadic contractions.
Cut to, apx 7 hours later.
Arriving
Naturally the first thing we did was go to the housing office and pick up our keys. Man was I ever glad to have already signed the lease, but it still took forever to get what we needed.
Then we came to the new house, released our little herd and tried to unload the car. Brutus was alternating between laps around the yard and sprints up and down the stairs. KC and Chase set off exploring, presumably trying very hard to find the location of their litter box and food which we were scrambling to get out for them.
Not long after our arrival, I too began feeling, the "need," so to speak. Apparently 7 hours in a car eating nothing but Burger King was having a number on my tummy. The problem was of course, that we didn't have any toilet paper. We'd bought a whole new package earlier in the week, but it had gone in the other car. The car that wasn't going to be arriving until the next day. And in a random fit of niceness (stupidity) I left the last 2 rolls we had in the 2 bathrooms at our house for the future renters. Oops. I looked for some tissues. Nope. Paper towels? Nope. Baby wipes? Nada. Everything like that had gone in the other car.
Matt was immediately dispatched to the mini-mart in search of supplies. And, also, dinner.
Then Brutus peed all over the living room floor.
I should have expected it because that tends to happen when he gets to a new place but I found myself desperate not to have the stain soak in. I scrambled to find any sort of paper that might absorb the mess... because the only towels we had need to last us until Friday when the washer gets delivered. Tearing through bags, I eventually settled on... Coffee filters.
Not the best plan, but they did soak up some of the mess.
The trouble was, I still REALLY had to go. And, while I danced around as long as I could the moment soon came when nature wasn't going to be put off any longer. I contemplated going next door to the neighbors who I'd be sharing a wall with for the next 18 months and begging but this seemed too embarrassing. I considered doing my business and just sitting there, waiting it out until Matt got back but that really seemed just as embarrassing.
So I decided to try the coffee filters out for myself.
In fairness, they did the job nicely.
Trouble was they also clogged the heck out of the toilet.
And, the plunger was definitely NOT an item we felt essential enough to bring along with us in the car.
So, when Matt returned a few minutes later, he found his blob of a wife, bordering on hysterical over the two humongous messes she had to clean up after only 15 minutes time left alone in her new home.
Man is that ever a good sign.
Not.
Luckily, Matt had bought paper towels. I'll skip the rest of the clean up details.
And just think, the baby is still to come....
Oh and one last thing.
The Chase
At some point around dusk I thought I heard the doorbell. It turned out to be the neighbor's doorbell but that quickly became beside the point. The trouble was, when Matt opened the front door to see what if anyone was there, Brutus ran out.
Brutus is a Shiba Inu. Shiba Inu's are runners. Everything you will ever read about them says Shiba Inu's are NEVER to be trusted off leash. While they are very loyal to their people, they just love to run entirely too much.
And Brutus was OFF running.
(In a brand new neighborhood that is bordered by woods where none of us knows our way around.)
I tried not to panic.
Matt followed the dog and told me to go inside.
Brutus has gotten out 3 times before. Each time, he runs and runs, all the while checking to see that his people are behind him. Matt and I are both very curious how far he'd go if nobody followed him. Or if he's be smart enough to find his way back. We're just really not willing to test it and find out.
So, after about 35 seconds I, wearing my brightly striped pajama pants, and "Pregnant is the New Skinny" tank top, threw on my flip flops and charged out after Matt and my little escapee.
I barely caught a glimpse of them turning a corner maybe 5 blocks up. By the time I got to that corner, they were no where in sight. Then I caught a glimpse of them coming back around from behind me. Apparently Brutus had decided to circle the block. When he saw me, he came running, just not too me. He wanted me to chase him too. A random jogging dude came along and together with Matt and I we started to box in the crazy dog which of course only made the game more fun for my puppy.
Thankfully two more blocks up the road a large family with a chihuahua was on their front porch watching the whole thing go down. The chihuahua was going BALLISTIC. Brutus went to check him out and a man in the family thankfully grabbed him and held him until Matt caught up and could carry him home.
It was all I could do not to kiss the random man.
The random man looked me over and told me I probably should not be chasing a dog through the neighborhood in my current condition. I feebly thanked him and tried to explain that we'd only moved in a few hours earlier. I decided to skip the part about how I really would have to say at this point I love the dog a lot more than my unborn child. At this point the dog IS my baby. It's a tangibility thing, as the baby doesn't seem real to me yet.
Anyway, Matt carried Brutus home. I tried not to get hysterical again thinking about what might have happened. We all went home and eventually went to bed.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Sadness
This is my last day living in San Diego. *Sniff!*
Actually, technically I guess this is my last day living in San Diego, AGAIN.
Since the Navy let us come back here once, maybe there is hope for the future. At least I can feel glad that this time I am not bound for Japan.
Still, I keep looking around my house and getting all weepy. I remember what a train wreck this place was when we bought it. The HORRIBLE rotting siding, painted hideous blue and the awful yellow front door. The ridiculous 1950s style solid wood, non-bending garage door. The horrible plants in the front yard. The old, single pane, aluminum windows. The popcorn texture on the walls painted to look like clouds. The highlighter yellow kitchen. The powder puff pink bathroom The bright orange laundry room. ICK!
All of which I have fixed.
Nowadays this house is so lovely. I've spent 18 months fixing it up and I am not ready to leave it to some dumb renters who will probably wreck it.
Well, no technically I guess I really AM ready to have some renters, even if they wreck it, because I am REALLY not ready to keep right on making mortgage payments on our empty house next month on top of our rent for the new place in Monterey. Especially since I am no longer employed.
Prayers on finding a renter soon please!!!
Anyway, I'm going to miss this place.
And all of San Diego too. The weather. My friends. My job and my students(believe it or not.) The malls. The beach. Downtown. Shamu.
*Sniff*
I really love Shamu.
San Diego is my second home. I'm FROM Ohio, but San Diego is home.
I don't want to move again.
Stupid Navy*.
(*To be read accompanied by the most pathetic pouty face a girl can muster.)
Actually, technically I guess this is my last day living in San Diego, AGAIN.
Since the Navy let us come back here once, maybe there is hope for the future. At least I can feel glad that this time I am not bound for Japan.
Still, I keep looking around my house and getting all weepy. I remember what a train wreck this place was when we bought it. The HORRIBLE rotting siding, painted hideous blue and the awful yellow front door. The ridiculous 1950s style solid wood, non-bending garage door. The horrible plants in the front yard. The old, single pane, aluminum windows. The popcorn texture on the walls painted to look like clouds. The highlighter yellow kitchen. The powder puff pink bathroom The bright orange laundry room. ICK!
All of which I have fixed.
Nowadays this house is so lovely. I've spent 18 months fixing it up and I am not ready to leave it to some dumb renters who will probably wreck it.
Well, no technically I guess I really AM ready to have some renters, even if they wreck it, because I am REALLY not ready to keep right on making mortgage payments on our empty house next month on top of our rent for the new place in Monterey. Especially since I am no longer employed.
Prayers on finding a renter soon please!!!
Anyway, I'm going to miss this place.
And all of San Diego too. The weather. My friends. My job and my students(believe it or not.) The malls. The beach. Downtown. Shamu.
*Sniff*
I really love Shamu.
San Diego is my second home. I'm FROM Ohio, but San Diego is home.
I don't want to move again.
Stupid Navy*.
(*To be read accompanied by the most pathetic pouty face a girl can muster.)
Friday, June 12, 2009
King KC the Lion Hearted
As most of you will know, or at least remember from previous posts, Matt and I are the proud parents of 2 extraordinarily furry cats, in addition to our dog Brutus.
The older of these kitties is called KC and he's a little bit of a train wreck. I guess we should have expected it because from the first moment we ever saw him we noticed that his eyes were crossed a little. And they really are.
A month or two after we brought him home we started to notice the "swelling" in his middle section. And by swelling I mean he was getting fat. KC, you see, has a bit of a problem with food. The problem being that he can never get enough of it. We've often found him rolling around in his food after having dumped the dish out all over the floor. In the mornings, when his dish his empty he'll sit sadly by it and meow pathetically at who ever will listen in the hopes that someone will feed him soon.
Since we got Brutus though, he's just as likely to be found eating the dog food.
Needless to say KC has developed a bit of a weight problem. Even while on a strict diet he still weighed in at a little over 15 pounds yesterday at the vet. Yikes!
Then of course there's KC's problem with hygiene. While most kitties are neurotic about grooming and cleaning themselves KC apparentely couldn't care less. Or perhaps he is just too fat to properly clean himself. At any rate, on any given day he is very likely to have several poopie cling-ons hanging off his backend while his thick fur is likely to have several large nappy matted knots. It's kind of gross.
All of this is commpletely ignoring KC's doofus behaviors. Like for example the other day when the movers had come and taken away the large enclosed cat box and KC had his first go at using the smaller temporary litter box where he did manage to keep at least a little of the litter in the box.
Very little.
So this week I decided I'd finally had enough. Not of KC, we still love him, stupid though he may be, but of his nappy fur and dirty behind. I decided that I was in no mood to fight him into the bath tub again and sturggle with the little monster for and hour to get him clean and cut off all the knots in his fur. No, I decided just to take him to the vet and have it all shaved off.
(Matt thinks I am very very mean.)
So, post-vet, here is my new, clean butted, nappy-fur-free kitty.
The vet calls it a lion cut, but I decided they could leave his legs and tail furry since they didn't have any knots so I'm not sure the affect is very lion-ish.
It's more like he's wearing those really furry Ugg boots and an eskimo hood.
Matt says I may have destroyed his self confidence and that KC no longer feels very good about himself.
Whatever. He's a cat. And THIS cat only needs food to be happy, even if his new short haircut really shows off his fat rolls.
It'll grow back. And in the mean time I get a break from dealing with his mess.
The older of these kitties is called KC and he's a little bit of a train wreck. I guess we should have expected it because from the first moment we ever saw him we noticed that his eyes were crossed a little. And they really are.
A month or two after we brought him home we started to notice the "swelling" in his middle section. And by swelling I mean he was getting fat. KC, you see, has a bit of a problem with food. The problem being that he can never get enough of it. We've often found him rolling around in his food after having dumped the dish out all over the floor. In the mornings, when his dish his empty he'll sit sadly by it and meow pathetically at who ever will listen in the hopes that someone will feed him soon.
Since we got Brutus though, he's just as likely to be found eating the dog food.
Needless to say KC has developed a bit of a weight problem. Even while on a strict diet he still weighed in at a little over 15 pounds yesterday at the vet. Yikes!
Then of course there's KC's problem with hygiene. While most kitties are neurotic about grooming and cleaning themselves KC apparentely couldn't care less. Or perhaps he is just too fat to properly clean himself. At any rate, on any given day he is very likely to have several poopie cling-ons hanging off his backend while his thick fur is likely to have several large nappy matted knots. It's kind of gross.
All of this is commpletely ignoring KC's doofus behaviors. Like for example the other day when the movers had come and taken away the large enclosed cat box and KC had his first go at using the smaller temporary litter box where he did manage to keep at least a little of the litter in the box.
Very little.
So this week I decided I'd finally had enough. Not of KC, we still love him, stupid though he may be, but of his nappy fur and dirty behind. I decided that I was in no mood to fight him into the bath tub again and sturggle with the little monster for and hour to get him clean and cut off all the knots in his fur. No, I decided just to take him to the vet and have it all shaved off.
(Matt thinks I am very very mean.)
So, post-vet, here is my new, clean butted, nappy-fur-free kitty.
The vet calls it a lion cut, but I decided they could leave his legs and tail furry since they didn't have any knots so I'm not sure the affect is very lion-ish.
It's more like he's wearing those really furry Ugg boots and an eskimo hood.
Matt says I may have destroyed his self confidence and that KC no longer feels very good about himself.
Whatever. He's a cat. And THIS cat only needs food to be happy, even if his new short haircut really shows off his fat rolls.
It'll grow back. And in the mean time I get a break from dealing with his mess.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Moving.....
I hate this week.
Actually, if I really think about it, I'm probably going to hate the better part of the next two weeks... at least.
It all started this past weekend. Matt and I had to drive up to Monterey to sign the leasing paperwork on our new place because its suddenly time for Matt to transfer again. It's Base Housing, but apparently there are rules about how long they can hold an unoccupied house which is what led us to drive 6 and a half hours each way for an overnight stay in our soon-to-be new hometown, exactly a week and a half before the actual move.
The prospect of making the trip was less than thrilling to me, but Matt was eager for me to see the new town and felt it was easier to just take me along rather than deal with my tears and anxiety if he'd try to go without me.
He's right. I do tend to cry a lot if he leaves me.
All in all, Monterey seemed nice, but also VERY confusing. There seemed to be absolutely NO rhyme nor reason to the layout of the roads which were constantly curving around hills and through dense foresty areas of trees. Don't get me wrong, I love hills and trees, but I've been in Southern California too long and let's just say I've gotten used to the wide open spaces when trying to figure out where I'm going.
Then of course we came home Sunday evening and it was time to start preparing for the movers. UGH! We both had to work all day on Monday and the movers were coming today so the process of taking down all the pictures, and sorting out the items we wanted to keep for ourselves to live with until our stuff arrives at the new place after we drive up there next week became sort of frantic. (As if I don't stress out enough about anything all on my own.) Plus, I still had to teach today and pull off the final one of my four Spring Performances so I wasn't home all day to help guide the packing.
So now, after along day of chaos, most of which I missed out on (while I was dealing with another sort of chaos entirely at work) I am home, in an almost entirely empty house laying on a camping cot and trying to ignore my surroundings and the unsettling feeling of yet ANOTHER move.
In case you wondering, this is not a new experience for us. Thanks to the Navy, Matt and I have done this before all of the following times:
1. In January of 1999, Matt moved himself from Ohio to Newport, Rhode Island (I didn't move with him because I had to finish college, but I helped.)
2. 6 months later the Navy moved Matt moved from Rhode Island to Corpus Christi, Texas.
3. 1 month after that I moved myself from Ohio to Texas to be with him.
4. After a year we moved ourselves to a different apartment
5. After another year the Navy moved Matt to San Diego and I moved myself to a different town in Texas to teach and finish my Master's degree.
6. About 8 months later I moved myself from Texas out to San Diego to be with Matt, again.
7. 3 months after that Matt and I moved ourselves to a bigger apartment in our same San Diego apartment complex.
8. 8 months later the Navy moved Matt to Georgia. I moved to another apartment in San Diego, hoping after 6 months Matt would get stationed back in San Diego.
9. 6 months later our plan back-fired and I moved myself to Georgia so that the Navy could move us both to Japan.
10. After 2 long years in Japan the Navy moved us back to San Diego.
11. A year later we bought our house here in San Diego and moved ourselves into it.
12. Finally, after another 18 months we arrive at the present in June of 2009, and the Navy is moving us up to Monterey, CA.
Just looking at that list makes me tired. And it makes me question my sanity a little bit in continually doing it "just" to be with Matt.
Although, I will state that for the record, when the Navy moves you, THEY MOVE YOU and you barely have to lift a finger. It's all those other moves that pretty much kill you.
And, for the record, doing this a 36 weeks pregnant is one of the worst ideas I've ever heard of.
Not to mention that the doctor told me this afternoon that the Baby is Breech. She's not concerned yet, but stressed to me just how very IMPORTANT it is that I find a doctor next week upon arriving in Monterey to immediately take over my prenatal care. Sweet.
So anyway, rather than continue to think about the unbelievable fact that I am moving AGAIN, I would like to now take a few moments to share with all of you some pictures I took on the drive to Monterey.
Somewhere a short while north of LA we had to leave the security of the 5 freeway behind and cross through the middle of nowhere as we made our way back toward the coast. So far as I can tell, the teeny little town where this split happened makes its money by "farming" for two things:
1. Pallets
and
2. Oil.
Seriously there were A LOT of pallets and the oil pumpy thingies extended in either direction as far as my eyes could see.
After leaving the town we found ourselves surrounded on both sides by some sort of tree farm. Matt says there were signs for Pecans, so I'm going to go with the assumption that these thousands of trees are growing the lovely nuts used to makes delicious Thanksgiving pies. MMMMmmmmmm.... pie.....
As we drove deeper and deeper into B.F.E. I was happy to find some Happy California cows.
Although I think those commercials are kind of misleading because they always show those Happy Cows in very green grass.
This grass is definitely NOT green.
There were also Happy California Sprinklers.... which mostly made me have to go to the bathroom.
We passed some "Amber Waves of Grain"
and funny hills which reminded me of piles of fabric....
Somewhere in there I think we got lost and made a detour through the African Tundra...
Before driving through lots of vineyards.
As we entered Monterey County, we started to see LOTS of fields that looked like this:
Eventually, based on the trucks we saw leaving the fields we decided that they grow a lot of Romaine Lettuce up there.
Which really makes me want to eat some Caesar Salad.
Actually, if I really think about it, I'm probably going to hate the better part of the next two weeks... at least.
It all started this past weekend. Matt and I had to drive up to Monterey to sign the leasing paperwork on our new place because its suddenly time for Matt to transfer again. It's Base Housing, but apparently there are rules about how long they can hold an unoccupied house which is what led us to drive 6 and a half hours each way for an overnight stay in our soon-to-be new hometown, exactly a week and a half before the actual move.
The prospect of making the trip was less than thrilling to me, but Matt was eager for me to see the new town and felt it was easier to just take me along rather than deal with my tears and anxiety if he'd try to go without me.
He's right. I do tend to cry a lot if he leaves me.
All in all, Monterey seemed nice, but also VERY confusing. There seemed to be absolutely NO rhyme nor reason to the layout of the roads which were constantly curving around hills and through dense foresty areas of trees. Don't get me wrong, I love hills and trees, but I've been in Southern California too long and let's just say I've gotten used to the wide open spaces when trying to figure out where I'm going.
Then of course we came home Sunday evening and it was time to start preparing for the movers. UGH! We both had to work all day on Monday and the movers were coming today so the process of taking down all the pictures, and sorting out the items we wanted to keep for ourselves to live with until our stuff arrives at the new place after we drive up there next week became sort of frantic. (As if I don't stress out enough about anything all on my own.) Plus, I still had to teach today and pull off the final one of my four Spring Performances so I wasn't home all day to help guide the packing.
So now, after along day of chaos, most of which I missed out on (while I was dealing with another sort of chaos entirely at work) I am home, in an almost entirely empty house laying on a camping cot and trying to ignore my surroundings and the unsettling feeling of yet ANOTHER move.
In case you wondering, this is not a new experience for us. Thanks to the Navy, Matt and I have done this before all of the following times:
1. In January of 1999, Matt moved himself from Ohio to Newport, Rhode Island (I didn't move with him because I had to finish college, but I helped.)
2. 6 months later the Navy moved Matt moved from Rhode Island to Corpus Christi, Texas.
3. 1 month after that I moved myself from Ohio to Texas to be with him.
4. After a year we moved ourselves to a different apartment
5. After another year the Navy moved Matt to San Diego and I moved myself to a different town in Texas to teach and finish my Master's degree.
6. About 8 months later I moved myself from Texas out to San Diego to be with Matt, again.
7. 3 months after that Matt and I moved ourselves to a bigger apartment in our same San Diego apartment complex.
8. 8 months later the Navy moved Matt to Georgia. I moved to another apartment in San Diego, hoping after 6 months Matt would get stationed back in San Diego.
9. 6 months later our plan back-fired and I moved myself to Georgia so that the Navy could move us both to Japan.
10. After 2 long years in Japan the Navy moved us back to San Diego.
11. A year later we bought our house here in San Diego and moved ourselves into it.
12. Finally, after another 18 months we arrive at the present in June of 2009, and the Navy is moving us up to Monterey, CA.
Just looking at that list makes me tired. And it makes me question my sanity a little bit in continually doing it "just" to be with Matt.
Although, I will state that for the record, when the Navy moves you, THEY MOVE YOU and you barely have to lift a finger. It's all those other moves that pretty much kill you.
And, for the record, doing this a 36 weeks pregnant is one of the worst ideas I've ever heard of.
Not to mention that the doctor told me this afternoon that the Baby is Breech. She's not concerned yet, but stressed to me just how very IMPORTANT it is that I find a doctor next week upon arriving in Monterey to immediately take over my prenatal care. Sweet.
So anyway, rather than continue to think about the unbelievable fact that I am moving AGAIN, I would like to now take a few moments to share with all of you some pictures I took on the drive to Monterey.
Somewhere a short while north of LA we had to leave the security of the 5 freeway behind and cross through the middle of nowhere as we made our way back toward the coast. So far as I can tell, the teeny little town where this split happened makes its money by "farming" for two things:
1. Pallets
and
2. Oil.
Seriously there were A LOT of pallets and the oil pumpy thingies extended in either direction as far as my eyes could see.
After leaving the town we found ourselves surrounded on both sides by some sort of tree farm. Matt says there were signs for Pecans, so I'm going to go with the assumption that these thousands of trees are growing the lovely nuts used to makes delicious Thanksgiving pies. MMMMmmmmmm.... pie.....
As we drove deeper and deeper into B.F.E. I was happy to find some Happy California cows.
Although I think those commercials are kind of misleading because they always show those Happy Cows in very green grass.
This grass is definitely NOT green.
There were also Happy California Sprinklers.... which mostly made me have to go to the bathroom.
We passed some "Amber Waves of Grain"
and funny hills which reminded me of piles of fabric....
Somewhere in there I think we got lost and made a detour through the African Tundra...
Before driving through lots of vineyards.
As we entered Monterey County, we started to see LOTS of fields that looked like this:
Eventually, based on the trucks we saw leaving the fields we decided that they grow a lot of Romaine Lettuce up there.
Which really makes me want to eat some Caesar Salad.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Three Things
I've read a lot of pregnancy books. I've read the ones that tell you what to expect and how wonderful it is. I've also read several that tell you about the stuff that probably won't expect, but might happen anyway and probably won't be that wonderful at all.
I've really go to say, aside from the early arrival of my tummy and the constant remarks I've had to hear about it as well as the nausea, fatigue, swelling and NEVER-ENDING head colds it has been pretty easy. I mean, I'm not loving it, mostly because I long to have own my body back. Not to "normal," or even to "what it was before," just back to "myself," you know, without the "parasite".... that's my husband's word not mine. But I am really glad to have gotten to go through this whole experience. It has certainly been unique.
However, I do feel that the "Tell all/100% straight-up honesty" books have left out a few issues. Which has left me wondering the following:
*Ahem*
Why didn't anybody tell me that for the entire last three months of my pregnancy my pelvis would be "sore?" We've officially progressed from the feeling of a 15 pound bowling ball sitting on my cervix to something more resembling somebody cracking the bones in two with a sledge hammer. I'd expect this sort of pain IN the delivery room, just not for all those weeks leading up to it.
Also:
Why didn't anybody tell me that towards the end of your pregnancy your maternity pants will refuse to stretch any further resulting in the already obnoxious elastic band rolling over on itself? As if those pants are not stupid enough already now there have to be all bunched up around the area formerly known as my waist. And I know what you're thinking, that I should just stick to dresses. However, I've noticed lately that when I sit down wearing a dress I can actually feel my tummy sitting ON MY LAP. Ugh. Not a good feeling. Too weird to handle.
Finally:
Why didn't anybody tell me that when you're pregnant you'll eventually get SO humongous that each of the 900 times a day that you go to the bathroom you will actually struggle to, um, well, wipe. I mean, I'm sorry, and I don't mean to be vulgar, but this is becoming a reeeeeaaal problem. I seriously can barely reach and when I do it hurts to bend that way.
A little warning would have been nice that's all I'm saying.
Although I guess if somebody had told me this stuff before it actually happened there is no WAY I would have believed them
I've really go to say, aside from the early arrival of my tummy and the constant remarks I've had to hear about it as well as the nausea, fatigue, swelling and NEVER-ENDING head colds it has been pretty easy. I mean, I'm not loving it, mostly because I long to have own my body back. Not to "normal," or even to "what it was before," just back to "myself," you know, without the "parasite".... that's my husband's word not mine. But I am really glad to have gotten to go through this whole experience. It has certainly been unique.
However, I do feel that the "Tell all/100% straight-up honesty" books have left out a few issues. Which has left me wondering the following:
*Ahem*
Why didn't anybody tell me that for the entire last three months of my pregnancy my pelvis would be "sore?" We've officially progressed from the feeling of a 15 pound bowling ball sitting on my cervix to something more resembling somebody cracking the bones in two with a sledge hammer. I'd expect this sort of pain IN the delivery room, just not for all those weeks leading up to it.
Also:
Why didn't anybody tell me that towards the end of your pregnancy your maternity pants will refuse to stretch any further resulting in the already obnoxious elastic band rolling over on itself? As if those pants are not stupid enough already now there have to be all bunched up around the area formerly known as my waist. And I know what you're thinking, that I should just stick to dresses. However, I've noticed lately that when I sit down wearing a dress I can actually feel my tummy sitting ON MY LAP. Ugh. Not a good feeling. Too weird to handle.
Finally:
Why didn't anybody tell me that when you're pregnant you'll eventually get SO humongous that each of the 900 times a day that you go to the bathroom you will actually struggle to, um, well, wipe. I mean, I'm sorry, and I don't mean to be vulgar, but this is becoming a reeeeeaaal problem. I seriously can barely reach and when I do it hurts to bend that way.
A little warning would have been nice that's all I'm saying.
Although I guess if somebody had told me this stuff before it actually happened there is no WAY I would have believed them
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