Late Onset Group B Streptococcus Infection

I am a person that has to put distance between a terrible event before I can comfortably talk about it.  When Jack got sick, he wouldn't eat all afternoon.  This from a baby who never missed a time to nurse.  He was crying and crying a terrible little cry that was weak and moany.  It was Friday afternoon and the doctor's office was going to try to fit us in at 3:05.  I called twice to see if they had anything sooner, his little sounds were so torturous and two hours was too long to wait.  His fever worsened and by the time we got to the doctor I was scared.  I was glad I called the doctor instead of trying to wait out the fever. At 103° the pediatrician insisted we go straight to the emergency room.  She said the odd cry was because he was struggling to breath.  I rushed Ella into the car and drove as fast as I could three blocks and found a parking place.  Inside the triage nurse just asked us our names and ran us into the back where doctors swarmed and poked and scratched their heads.  Jack's neck started to swell up as he was going septic.  He was six weeks old.

This video is what it sounds like when a sick infant is having a hard time breathing. This was just before we left for the doctors office.  



I tested negative for Group B Strep (GBS) at the end of my pregnancy so antibiotics were never given.  In fact I've had occasion to be tested again and I'm still negative.  It's a bacterium a good amount of people carry on their skin, it's something you can get from a grocery cart, a handshake, a library book, a baby present.  Most people never know they carry it, because it's a wimpy bacteria killed by penicillin.  For babies it can be deadly.  That is what Jack had.  Babies usually get it when they are born, it's very unusual for a six week old to get it, but it happens.  Late onset Group B Strep can lead to meningitis, brain damage, hearing loss, life long handicaps or even death.  Jack escaped all of those things.  He's scrappy like that.  I stayed in the NICU with him for 13 days while he received intravenous sterile antibiotics. He responded well to them in the first few days and so doctors were optimistic.  I lived in dread of his IV falling out again.  His veins were so small and hard to find to get it back in was a delicate catastrophe of blowing out vein after vein, searching under the skin with a needle and holding him down.

Leading up to the day Jack wouldn't eat, he had a rash.  It looked like a heat rash all over his face, I called ask-a-nurse and she suggested if that was the only symptom he had that is was likely baby acne and I should just keep a close eye on it.  It was hard to tell if he was sleeping out of the ordinary, or acting differently, we just met and I wasn't sure what the usual Jack behavior was yet.  Once he was in the hospital and on the antibiotics the rash went away, almost immediately.  It wasn't baby acne, heat rash, 'stork bites' or sensitive skin, it was infection running all over his whole body.  By the time Jack got a fever, the strep bacteria was winning, his white blood cell count was in the hundreds.

This was Jack's rash

I still wonder how his stay at the hospital effected him, how it may or may not have shaped his personality or pain tolerance or zest for life. He is so much like my littlest brother who was born with a club foot and endured similar poking a prodding and even surgeries.  He's spirited and particular, funny and bright, he figures a thing out quickly and is awesomely coordinated - both Jack and my brother. 

This is strong, scrappy Jack now.

July is Group B Streptococcus Infection Awareness month, the same month Jack was born.  I'm posting this now though because it's important and I was finally ready to say it.  One in four pregnant women carry it.  All doctors here in the U.S. test for it.  It's not something most people need to worry about, just something you should be aware of.  It's far scarier and more dangerous to put our baby in the car and drive everyday.  I have only this advice, wash your hands often, if your baby is under six months old and has a fever - see a doctor right away and if you feel something is "off" or "wrong" follow your intuition, it's hardly ever wrong. 

A Change is Gonna Come

Dear friends and family, after 19 years Dan and I are splitting up. This is very difficult for both of us. Together, we decided at the end of this school year, the children and I will move back to the Midwest. We know it is better for them to be near their extended family. All of us are looking forward to new beginnings and happier days.

Deviled Dish

I noticed yesterday Jack would only eat fruity Cherrios if they were lined up in a row.  He likes his food to be orderly.  Today at the resale shop, I picked up the best dish ever, for .49¢.  He ate everything on his plate.   

Remind me later to add this to my resume under "Can solve difficult problems efficiently and in a creative way."

Living in Toddler Land

While everyone else is drinking beer and cheering on our home town Hockey players, I am in the lobby holding a sugared pretzel and the hand of my son.  To his squealy delight, we are riding the escalator for the fifteenth time and flirting with the ushers on two levels, flashing them tiny smiles and bashful waves.  I can hear the crowd cheer for fisticuffs on the ice and I am getting a high five for successfully jumping at the end of the moving stair-ride.  It's odd to exist in an alternate parallel universe and when I see other parents on the same plane as us, we smile at each other in exhausted recognition.

In Toddler Land, loud noises are scary, anything mechanical and near the floor demands ample time for inspection, there are only a few good foods (cheese and macaroni and cheese,) you never have a clean shirt, and nobody speaks the language.  Time is fluid in Toddler Land; a simple wait in line at the grocery store is long enough to attempt to juggle a TV Guide, Bubblelicious and Carmex into the cart, cry about the grapes going into the bag, get tangled up in a purse strap, make new friends and wipe something sticky on the lady behind you and demand to hit all the buttons on the check out key pad.  A single stop light can last five years if there is crying involved and alternately; seventeen  hours can't possibly be enough time to play trains, nor is three months enough time to hear that one song.  Luckily the free flowing Gift Economy is solid and fueled with sticky kisses, pearly smiles and tight hugs which is why everyone in Toddler Land is rich.

Saturday Roller Derby Recap

Via Kiki @ I Still Hate Pickles.  I'm in there!

Cartoons

Go see THIS and THIS. I have art there!

day three

The real hair-do test comes the first day you don't have the stylist's magic and the expensive potions in your bathroom and you don't have time to blow dry.  So here it is air dried, like it would look after the pool or at the beach or any busy morning.  Yay for genius stylists.

The Kilted Coiffeur

A guy at the copy shop said to me, "Wow you have such long hair, let me guess, your husband won't let you cut it."  I took immediate offense as I realized I looked like a person who had no control over how I wear my hair.  I replied "No, I'm just lazy and haven't had it cut in three years."  I started looking at it in the mirror, all the heavy locks that I usually just put in a bun every day.  The same long, heavy, dark mane I had in college.  I once read that people keep their hair in the style they had when they had the most fun in life. I think about this when I see women with the big bouffant feathered hair from the 80s, I think about it when you see comb overs and mullets and I was thinking about it looking in the mirror.  Just six years ago I had a pixie (see profile picture on the right) so clearly I'm not hanging onto the past.... or am I. "Oh no" I thought.

So, I looked online for a hair cuttery close to home, I read reviews and perused a few websites before I found The Kilted Coiffeur who said "Love Your Hair, Every Day"... Nope I didn't love my hair, not any of the days.  Sometimes I loved it just after I blow dried it and flipped it upside down and was standing in a certain light, just slightly to the left, but only for about five minutes and I wanted to love it every day now that I thought about it.  I stalked The Kilted Coiffeur on Facebook, carefully looking at all the hair and eye-balling the stylist to see if it was someone I thought I might want to talk to while being coiffed.  Dark thick nerdy glasses, asymmetrical hair cut, standing next to Rachael Ray smiling - yep, that was the guy.  That was the guy I wanted to save me from being a dowdy housewife, the guy I could trust to figure out what I needed.  I called him, he was out of state teaching a class solidifying my choice.  I booked an appointment online.

On this St. Patrick's day morning I got up early and ran out of the house while the children slept, not knowing what I wanted my head to look like.  Michael, quite literally, Thee Kilted Coiffeur, walked in for his first appointment (me) wearing an actual kilt and carrying bagpipes slug over his shoulder, no I'm not even kidding.  He has an event tonight where he'll play bagpipes, but I like to think he wore the kilt in recognition of my new do.  We talked about my hair and I explained the last cut (years ago) wasn't my favorite and how I'm scared and hyper critical now.  I think I mentioned I was going blog about it too so really no pressure at all (haha!) Michael made his suggestion and I said "do it." I trusted him. He chopped a big hunk off the bottom and held it up like a savage Celt who just got a rabbit.  I was happy to see it go.  Then scissors were flying.  I felt the weight coming off and off and off and off and finally an hour and a half later...

What I'm not sure you can see is how freaking soft and bouncy my hair is.  Get ready for the slew of photos of my head so I can show it off and try to convey how awesome it is.  I keep shaking my head like some kind of Prell commercial just to feel it move.  On this day I love my hair and I think probably I will tomorrow too and when I'm not feeling the love so much, I'll just call Michael again.  

The Kilted Coiffeur Studio Salon

12010 Jones Road Suite 105

Houston, Texas 

713.518.2173

KiltedCoiffeur.com

Two Wheels!

Not to be outdone on milestones this week, Ella and Grandpa perfected bike riding on two wheels!

Curls

I was afraid to get his hair cut because I didn't want his little curls to go away so I just cut the bangs hanging in his eyes.  Then someone mentioned "his cute little mullet" and that was the straw that broke the mother's back.  I took him to the hair cuttery while Grandpa is visiting.  Sitting in the little car went a long way and the barber was fast and efficient.  She was used to getting her photo taken and said often times she has the whole extended family circling and taking photos like paparazzi.  She did a wonderful job, the curls are still there and Jack looks less like a chubby toddling baby and more like a tall scrappy boy.

Woman

Happy International Women's Day.  On this day, I propose we redefine feminine. Let's get rid of ridiculous societal gender constructs, it would solve a lot of problems.

currently:
fem·i·nine/ˈfemənin/

Adjective:	Having qualities or appearance traditionally associated with women, esp. delicacy and prettiness.
Noun:	The female sex or gender.
Synonyms:	adjective.  female - womanly - womanlike noun.  female

I propose:
fem·i·nine/ˈfemənin/

Adjective:	Having a vagina.
Noun:	The female sex or gender.
Synonyms:	adjective.  female - woman  noun.  female

Just Words

It is believed if you know the name of a demon, you have the power to summon it with a simple utterance. We wait with tender hearts over our babies singing and cooing until they call upon us with one sweet word.

We pledge our allegiance; we pray; we vow; we debate, sway, teach and command; we change the world with words.

Mr. Limbaugh let slip his loathing of women by flinging around the word "slut", with such ease that he mistakenly used it. He assigned this word such little importance, it accidentally fell from his face, as if he, who makes a living on the backs of words, didn't understand its power.

The ease of which profanity slips from swirling frothy hate filled mouths like fouled laundry slopping out the front of a broken washing machine door, offends humanity.

Some words come with a history, they are sacred or profane and if your business is words, then you should know which are what, like any decent preacher, legislator, poet, or tattoo artist.

What About the Mens?

From Bill modeled after similar legislation to help women make informed decisions

"..."By implementing more intensive screenings before prescribing the medication and requiring outpatient educational services, we can do more to prevent the potential side effects linked to PDE-5 inhibitors," Senator Turner explained. "We must advocate for the traditional family, protect the sanctity of procreation, and ensure that all men using PDE-5 inhibitors are healthy, stable, and educated about their options--including celibacy as a viable life choice. This legislation will do just that."

more posters at Strollerderby

GOP's War on Women

Every time I start to write the post I end up sputtering a string of expletives and there are so many that have said it far better, so for now, I defer you to where my art is on the subject.

photo

SPARK 15

In the midst of moving and all the children being ill and having a house guest, I decided to join a new art project that had a deadline.  Because I was feeling relaxed about my days and thought I'd ratchet up the expectations.  Actually it was super fun.

Spark is "Open to writers, musicians, and visual artists of all kinds, SPARK is a participatory creativity event that takes place four times each year.

During each 10-day project round, participants create a new piece of work using someone else’s art, writing, or music as inspiration. All resulting work is then displayed online, alongside the piece that inspired it."  

I sent in a little ink from a few months back and received a poem from Amy Moffitt. The pieces are starting to get posted this week, I just put mine up today and am excited to see everyone's work. I find it interesting to see what inspires people and try to understand what their process is. 

go see SPARK 15  and leave a comment.

Calling In

I totally don't feel like doing anything today.  I don't want to unpack any more stuff, run any errands, do any physical therapy, wash, brush, clean or cook anything.  I just want to continue sitting in front of this screen with my fuzzy little dog at my feet, while one baby sleeps and the other is at school.  I want to stretch this morning out into a whole day of eating Girlscout cookies and drinking French press coffee while reading blogs in my pjs.

Almost There

We're almost settled in.  I have all the pertinent items for everyday living unpacked and today I moved on to artwork and serving plates.  We finished another ten day round of antibiotics and the children are ill again and I want to say to all of the parents of sick children in the world  "Keep your little pie faced germ factories at home like the rest of us sensible people.  For serious. If I hear that you have taken your children out and about, even to the Walgreens to get a prescription, allowing their plague ridden sticky fingers to touch the shopping cart my son will later lick, I will kick you in the shin. Hard."  That is all.

Pics of the new house to follow.

Found

We're moving again, just up the road this time.  Our lease was up, the landlord decided to sell and we have to get three years away from our short sale* (June 2010) before we can get a home loan again.  We are staying in the neighborhood, switching grade schools and moving to a bigger place (ART STUDIO!)  Today is the day we are packing up dishes and the very last bits before the movers come in the morning.  I keep shoving things in my pockets that I find around the house.  When I started packing I was finding hair ties and hot wheels all over but now I'm really digging into the corners of our lives and today's haul of pocket novelties for your consideration are; a tiny nickel belonging to a magician, a brown penny from 1969, an orange paper-clip, a die, a paper hedgehog, a pink Lego flower and the bebe from last year's Mardi Gras King Cake.





*I want to explain we sold short but were not underwater.  What does this mean? The house sold for less than we owed after the bank agreed.  After making two house payments for a year, it was better than us just walking away from it.  The house was appraised for double what is sold for, it was just such a depressed market, nobody was buying.

Are You in an Abusive Place?

We know that people stay for a lot of reasons—for financial reasons, out of love, because they feel pity, because they’re too afraid to leave, because they can’t afford to leave, because they have children, and so on.

Have you heard yourself say any of the following phrases?

• "It's not Rockford's fault."
• "Rockford is trying to be better."
• "There were some bad choices in the past and we're working on it."
• "It's a good city in it's own way, really."
• "Stop criticizing and and ease up, Rockford is trying hard."
• "It's not that bad, at least we aren't Detroit."
• "Rockford is actually really creative and misunderstood."
• "I don't know what I'd do if I moved."
• "It's better for the kids to stay."
• "You don't understand the way it is."
• "Being in Rockford is tough, but a few times a year it's wonderful."
• "It's hard to get Rockford to see that anything is wrong."
• "I'm strong enough to weather the tough times, I belong here with family." 
• "It's up to me to make it work."
• "It's my fault, I just need to try harder."
• "It's just a small problem with drugs and alcohol."
• "It's not really that violent."
• "It's fine if you just stay away from Rockford's bad side."
• "You should've seen Rockford back in the day."

(Yes, I know I still choose to visit a few times a year.  Rockford, it it weren't for the people I love still there, you'd be history!)

Where I'm from.


****


In all seriousness if you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship there is help.

Where I'm from

Forbes Magazine: Rockford is the 9th Most Miserable Place to Live

Rockford in the Top 20 Most Dangerous Cities

Rockford 15th Highest Jobless Rate in the Nation

Rockford Register Star Responds: More Than a Set of Statistics

Our City Our Story - Rockford, IL

When I was fifteen, I went to the hospital for my appendix, upon release the next morning I discovered someone had stolen my boots.

Heart Attack Jack

A fellow blogger and I were discussing the virtues of a weekly top ten feature when I jokingly mentioned I could do one called "Top Ten Most Dangerous Things Jack Does on a Daily Basis" and then I startled myself by rattling off the following list without having to think too hard about it.

#1 Try to eat tacks, paper clips, pennies, and/or staples from the desk drawer, and/or the sidewalk
#2 Roller skate on the end tables
#3 Pull the dog's ears until she gets mad and yelps
#4 Get knives out of the dishwasher
#5 Try to plug things in
#6 Reach things by standing tippy toed on the seat of his tricycle
#7 Throw a kicking, screaming fit half way up the stairs
#8 Run, laughing manically with a mouth full of food
#9 Stand up in the high chair and jump towards me trusting I will see him in time to catch him
#10 Be Jack

Of course, you may be reading this thinking "Why would you let him do those things?!"  to which I say, I don't!  The kid is fast. In the time it takes to put newly confiscated pair of scissors on top of the refrigerator, my son can balance a skate board atop a step stool to reach the car keys and hit the fun red button of car-honking. It's a diabolical thing to do to a lady who's first child has the concentration and patience of vulture.


Just last week I was in the kitchen finishing chores watching Jack play on the patio through the open door when I reached down under the sink to get the dishwasher soap.  When I stood up I didn't see him, instead I heard the side gate rattling.  I ran to the side yard and found Jack hurriedly closing the gate behind him, with his sister's two dollar allowance in his hand. Thank God he's polite enough to close the gate behind him or I'm pretty sure he'd have caught a cab to the zoo.  Let me remind you Jack is one and a half year old. (I can't even make the word "year" plural yet!)


So I try to keep a steady stream of new toys for Jack coming through the house.  It's enough to buy me time to help with homework, fill the washing machine, or chug coffee in silence while staring off into space. A new toy arrived in the mail yesterday in exchange for all those diaper reward points turned in from the club thing on the side of the box (like frequent pee-er miles.) I saved opening the box, until I needed to cook dinner, figuring the new toy would buy lots of time and dear bloggies, they sent my son this... 

No seriously, did you see that?! Oh yeah! Melissa and Doug and Huggies taught my son in less than ten minutes how to undo any lock, latch, or clip.  Thanks guys, thanks.

Republican Coyote Fables

Ella: A lady came up to our school and told us three stories about coyotes.  They had a lesson at the end.

Me: Did the lady belong to a tribe?

Ella: Yes, I think she was a Republican.

Cessation

I stayed up while the girls giggled late into the night.  I checked often to make sure nobody was homesick and all the barbie shoes fit.  I laid out a fine bed of pink comforters and fuzzy blankets, in a queen sized pile on the floor, just before I put the last movie on and coaxed everyone into pajamas.  I delivered pickles and fresh band aids, iced water and hugs and finally, I demanded everyone just be quiet and lay still for a minute, because I knew if they did, they would sleep.  A request for a glass of ice water came in and by the time I reached the top of the stairs again she was snoring.  The last child peered through heavy lids and blinking eyes wanting a banana.  She found four bites sufficient fuel for whatever dreams awaited.

At 2:40am I steal these last quiet bits of the night for myself. Like the last few minutes before getting out of the shower, where all the pertinent jobs are finished but I stand there letting the water fall down over me in white noise. Or when I pull in the driveway and the baby is sleeping in his car seat and I listen to the last part of Mozart's Violin Concerto No. 3 in G Major before jumping out to hike the groceries in the house.  These stolen minutes are the spaces in between the chaos, the long quiet corridor that leads from the rumpus room to the family room. Those stolen instances of calm, when everyone is taken care of and I stretch time slightly just for me, those minutes are sweet and they are mine.

This!

Zombie Logic Press Blog

then this!

The Poetry Daily

Grateful Heart

The Houston Roller Derby Awards Ceremony was Saturday night.  It was a formal, at the very elegant Nouveau Antique Art Bar and everyone looked stunning.  When you are used to seeing people all sweaty and with helmet hair it's amazing to suddenly see them looking like Ginger on Gilligan's Island. I wish I'd taken more photos.  Even the referees wore tuxedos.  I was excited to hear the awards, as people I voted for won things.  Notably my team mate and pal, Shocker Zulu won most improved.  She's gone from not being able to do a cross-over to pure blocking menace.  I love watching her play.  Shank, also my team mate and friend, took MVP because she is an amazing unexhaustable triple threat.  The award was accepted on her behalf as she was home getting ready for a marathon on Sunday morning - yeah, she's awesome like that.   Yours truly won the Purple Heart award for getting hurt this season and though it's the part of the ceremony where we give out the not so serous awards for things like Best Rack and Miss Congeniality, it meant a lot to me to know that people missed me and recognized such a tough event in my life.

Order Now!

Ella is selling girl scout cookies.  If you needed a reason  to buy them beyond tasty tasty exclusive cookies, click on THIS LINK.  Seriously everything I read made me say "Oh, good! I'm glad." Thank you Girl Scouts for being the kind of organization I'd always hoped for my daughter to belong in and for propelling society forward.

Tex

I've often wondered how long one must live a place before you feel like that's where you are from.  I've spent three Christmases in Texas and welcomed another child.  I have a library card, a voter registration and a drivers license that all say I'm a Texan. I rub my arms and make an effort to dig out socks when the temperature dips to only 65°. I like to let the ocean be my therapist, the briny water washing troubles from me with every visit. I use "ya'll".  I know that brisket is more than something you corn on St. Patrick's Day and I've tried five different kinds of tamales and seven different bread puddings. But today, I sat down at my computer with a coffee, saw a post from a place I used to work, and heard my first Midwestern accent.

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Avoid Unnecessary Furnace Service Calls - Axberg Heating from
Axberg Heating on Vimeo.

I'm a Picker and a Grinner

I went to the out picking on Sunday and found:
- Two designer dresses one vinatge  = $30.00  --- VALUED $150.00 & $320.00
- One antique two-pint pottery bed warmer = $6.00 --- VALUED $80.00
- One tall mocha coffee = $0.00* --- VALUED $3.30

Total spent $39.30 TOTAL VALUE --- $403.30
I came out $364.00 ahead!

Mike and Frank would be proud.

*They keep messing up my order and giving it to me free! Best coffee place ever.

Take Your Medicine!

Day three of antibiotic slinging and I have no idea if any of it is making it to the designated target.  I do know Amoxicillin smooths fly-aways when applied directly to the head after scraping it off one's tongue with flailing panicked hands. I just hope the pharmacist puts a little extra in there.

Wonder Child

Happy 8th birthday to my green eyed baby.  

Striped

A Bad Case of the Stripes
By David Shannon

For a bout of Bronchitis, I managed to cajole the children through a round of Godzillomiacin.  Just in time for them to contract what Ella refers to as striped throat.  Since Jack never eats what I cook; but only what he can find on the floor of his sisters room or bite off the end of a writing utensil (see pencil eraser, crayon, and marker felt,) I've given up on making antibiotic frosting and have opted for going in quick.  I get that dropper in there and squeeze with as much force as one can exert whence pinching a squishy little rubber dropper into a squirmy toddler's mouth.  Then I blow in his face, hard, until he swallows and offer his bewildered demeanor an M&M.   After I've used my super ninja medicine giving skills, to get ten days of Pinkacyllin into Jack's tightly pursed lips, we're going to pretend we're cowboys for a while and wear bandannas over our faces when we go out.

Santorum? I Barely Even Know 'Em.

Quick facts:

Budget busting tax plan
Pro foreign aid, including troops
Against gay marriage
Intelligent design
Wife and seven children
Pro life
Google rank problems


Thirty year time line:

Graduated High School 1976
BA in Political Science at Penn State in  (Tau Epsilon Phi Frat) 1980
Master of Business Admin 1981
Law degree, Pennsylvania Bar, Kirkpatrick & Lockhart 1986
Married 1987
House of Representatives 1990
US Senate 1995
Re elected US Senate 2000
Google Bombed 2003
First Book 2005
Unseated 2006
Second Book 2006

Changes

Blowing my ACL and giving up skating was a shock to the psyche. Unlike when I was just pregnant, I needed to be cautious with my leg and let it heal, I had to relearn how to walk up and down steps and make it to physical therapy three times a week.  It takes up all of my energy chasing a fraggle haired, little danger man around the house while also being mindful of the gentle feelings of a drama loving seven year old.  Hiring a sitter and going to derby practice once a week over November and December to stand in the middle of the track I so desperately wanted to be on, seemed like it would be torturous, both physically and mentally even though I missed it so much.

In January I hope to be cleared for endurance skating and would like to start attending Houston Roller Derby's Recreational League on Tuesday nights. I want to have a little of it back, with less of a commitment, at least until I'm done healing.  Then I'll reassess my situation and think about what is next.  I'd like time to plan and dream and anticipate what's next.  I'd like to be able to have a little control back even though I don't know what will come of it.  I just want it to be on my terms.

I miss skating until my legs are numb, my lungs burning with lactic acid and ego. I miss celebrating and being proud about the little accomplishments, both my team mates and mine.  I miss being soaking wet with sweat and delirious with happy.  I miss having all sorts of interesting people in my life every week and knowing who is ill, in love, has a blister and what people are seeing, eating, reading and listening to, what their goals are. I wasn't ready to give it up so abruptly.

I am used to living along side an army of diverse, tough women. It's hard when life changes without permission. Sometimes it takes a long time to adjust. I'm just now feeling like I live in Texas, despite my third Christmas in the Bayou.  I still feel like I can't buy expensive jeans because I just had a baby, though Jack is looking towards age two and riding a trike. Though I don't see my skatey-mates enough to tell you what color their hair is any more, letting go of these women and the derby community may take a lifetime.

Middle of Book

Woody Guthrie's New Years Resolutions 1942, stolen from Boing Boing.  

Merry Merry

I  hope whatever it is you celebrate this time of year was as awesome as ours.

What is Art?

Do you think accessibility to material dilutes art or inspires new talent?

I say both.  And sometimes one has to sit down and play Heart and Soul with their best pal to realise the genius of Bach.

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Need to find out who did that peice of work you grabbed from timblr, pintrest, facebook but can't find the original?  Check this awesome tool out!    ?¿ src-img

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Improv Everywhere is making a film.

Whiff

I smelled the live oaks on cool humid air and was reminded of vacations in New Orleans. If I had a recording of it I'd hit play, right along with the radio on Saturday mornings.  I'd invite listeners to take a breath while I am retelling about visiting the City of the Dead.  I'd play it on quiet nights when it is too much to open the windows.      

Bleachable Moments

I've gone on before about gender in casting and this commercial surprised me enough to share.

Oh My Darlin'

Tonight I was peeling another clementine for Jack when he started playing with the peel.  Because he has the ability to find the most dangerous thing in the room in three seconds or less, I was powerless when he maced himself in the eye with the twist of the rind.  I'm sure it stung, as I look into it on wiki, I see those oils are used for stripping varnish and garnishing things that have vodka in them.  I washed his eye out and put some saline in it, which also pissed him off, but I figured the more he cried the better it would be for his eyeball.

From the Daily Painting Blog
Postcard from Provence
by Julian Merrow-Smith

This Bird is Half Empty

Some folks miss the magic in life, it goes right over their heads.
(Listen up at 48 seconds)

Wish List

Dear Santa,

For Christmas this year, please bring toys that occupy my kids.  Also I'd like a black cover for my phone, booze, and a very expensive hair cut.

Love,
Jenny

One and a Half Jack

Jack is sleeping or he is a whirlwind of chaos.  He likes all things little boys are supposed to like; cars, sports, playing ball, whacking things with a sword, running after women with his wolf claws out and growling,  climbing and jumping from the top of things and most of all pretending to be big.  His dark eyes glower when he's told "no" in a way that assures me he'll have to get some sort of fight training in life, both to back up his uncontrollable glare and to rein it in. His laugh starts with squinched up eyes, and a wide smile full of pearly teeth, one already chipped from a mishap while running on cement.  He'll give you five if he likes you and he feels like it, and sometimes he'll put his whole open mouth on your face and give you a kiss.  He speaks in song; though he doesn't always get the consonants or the vowels right, he does match syllables, cadence and melody.  We have a joke we tell when we're in the middle of a project and Jack runs into the next room, you say "What can he possibly get into in ten seconds?" and you laugh maniacally while setting the project aside in a hurry and giving chase.  Because soon he will be naked and shaking a lamp, or moving the dog food, or buttering someone on the head.  He's hopelessly devoted to his big sister who loves him enough to afford him all the patience a seven year old can muster.  Under a layer of baby chub, he's sinewy, independent and determined.  He's almost one and a half.

Important Link

SWAT Raids, Stun Guns, And Pepper Spray: Why The Government Is Ramping Up The Use Of Force By Radley BalkoSenior Writer and Investigative Reporter The Huffington Post 

Trophies of 2011

I gold medaled in momming.  I silvered in housewifing. I got the bronze for getting crayon off the wall of a rented house.   After winning the UHaul-Grand Prix for moving an entire household while eight months pregnant, in June, in Texas last year, I went on to win the Illini-1000 in November, when I drove to Rockford for Thanksgiving with two children, a dog and a hip to ankle leg brace.  I got the Rubberband Prize for outstanding efforts in the categories of super cute hair braids and piggy tails that aren't lopsided and I was awarded the Mrs. Mathews Sash and Crown.  Consistantly when I wake up in the morning, the Worlds Best Cup of Coffee is found in my kitchen.  I got the Runneth Over Cup for breast feeding Jack back to sleep, Rookie of the Year for chasing ten month olds who can run, and of course the Hindend Trophy for changing a poopy diaper in a truck stop with one baby wipe.  I was MVP of derby skaters named Bombadee.  I swept the National Championships of Long Black Dog Hair Removal from the floor and couch. I garnered a blue ribbon in Tiny Drawings for the second year in a row and I think I won some sort of certificate for being consistently under-rated and under-collected in the art world, but I'm sure it got lost in the mail. I got my merit badges in grocery shopping with a toddler, reupholstering an ottoman, repairing laptop keys pulled off by children, and blowing out a tire at 75 mph on I-290 as well as waiting two hours for a tow truck by myself on a Saturday night. I also made employee of the month at ZLP at least twice this year and for the seventh time in a row I received Blogger of the Year from Bombadee's Garden. Also, I was gifted the Star of Gratitude for having amazing family and friends. I did not win any awards in modesty nor can I seem to land a spot on My Morning Hair.

Seven Weeks After ACL Surgery

Doctor Lowe said I have the knees of a teenager.  I'm healing up nicely and should be back to at least endurance skating in January.  I still have some swelling and some bruising and my thighs are different sizes, though I don't think it's terribly obvious.  I'm doing physical therapy twice a week and I'm able to stationary bike and get on the elliptical and some basic squats and stair step things.  I have a little spot that remains numb and the scar isn't terrible, you can click on the pic and zoom in to see.  I'm able to get around pretty well and I no longer have to wear what affectionately became known as the iron maiden on my leg.  I'll get a smaller one just for exercising, late next week.

Projects from the Home Sick Department

She put  four stuffed animals under the cardboard box on the living room floor, a cat, a whale, a frog and Charlie peacock.  She put a sign on the box that said "Chaos" and then announced to the room there was a terrible animal fight going down inside the box.

Adventures in Momming

My very good pal Kiki over at I Still Hate Pickles said "Sharing struggles doesn't mean that your struggles don't matter. It helps to know that you aren't alone, and that you always have things to be thankful for!"  I am thankful she said it, because here I go sharing:

Today, I am home with two sick kids, a fever, no voice or groceries and a dog with a flea.  When a toddler that is still nursing gets a sore throat, do you know what happens? He wants to nurse non-stop.  So while I am trying to clean up the dog barf resulting from the hair ball the dog pulled from the spot in her hind quarter where the single flea that she's very allergic to bit her, my son is frantically yanking on my shirt trying to get things out, and the harder he cries the more snot pours from his face.  I am thankful Ella is content to lay about on the couch and overdose on cartoons, but a few times she's had some odd requests; "I need to put pockets on the inside of my robe so I can whip out tools and weapons like a spy, where's the tape?"

At some point this afternoon, I need to pack everyone up and their snot and venture out to the grocery store because we were in Illinois last week and the ice box has in it: tortillas, clementines, old lunch meat, pickles, a half bottle of wine and ketchup. If I can get my boob back in my shirt long enough to get shoes on we'll go get supplies and maybe plumber will finally call me back.  While we were gone, the odd smell in the master bathroom's toilet room, that didn't go away when we bleached everything in there, got worse.  I think an animal expired in the exhaust vent, Dan thinks there could be something wrong with the pipes, so I need a plumber who knows ducts and won't hang up on me when I say "dead animal." So far I've called six and only one called me back.  He wants $120.00 to walk in the door.  Also before he walks in  the door, I need to put the dirty laundry away, empty the diaper pail and wipe the toothpaste off the mirror. In the mean time, I've shut the door and am pretending that room no longer exists. Which brings me to being thankful for having a second commode.

Four Things

I've lost all hope in ever getting any sort of customer service from a store with more than 2,000 square feet. I'm shopping, hence forth at small stores, literally.

***

A first grade boy told me a story in the car the other day, it started with alien robots and wrapped up on Mars with farting and dinosaurs.  I encouraged him to make it into a comic book.

***

That all said about small stores, this presumably big store makes a wonderful commercial :



***

Jack needs these pants

***

Another Cherry Vale Mall Response

Jenny - I am not clear what your intended use is. Many uses can be acceptable if cleared thru the mall management office. Feel free to contact me as the need arises.

 Mark Peterson
 General Manager
 CherryVale Mall
 815-332-2451 x.228

***

Mark, I was at the mall on Thursday, November 25th with my mother, a friend, and my two small children. I was using my iphone to record people singing an impromptu version of "This Land is Your Land" when mall security approached me and said policy was "No filming" and I must stop or leave. It was confusing because several other people were recording this event, but I was the only one with several shopping bags, strollers, coffee, phone, and children in hand. The rest of the people recording were men with nothing in hand but a camera. The video of the incident is here    http://bombadee.blogspot.com/2011/11/occupy-cherryvale-mall-rockford-il-on.html    I was unable to find any mention of this strict policy on your website in the Cherry Vale Code of Conduct, so I was looking for a clarification of your use of cameras.

Awaiting your reply,
Jenny
Houston, Texas

***

Jenny - mall security is correct in speaking to you regarding filming as prior authorization thru the mall management office would need to have been granted.

Thank you for shopping CherryVale.

***

First post here
Initial response here

Occupy Cherry Vale Mall Response

Original Comments:
To Whom It May Concern;
re: http://bombadee.blogspot.com/2011/11/occupy-cherryvale-mall-rockford-il-on.html
What exactly is the policy on using my camera in your facility? Thank you.


***

from CherryVale Mall  malls@shopcherryvalemall.com
Tue, Nov 29, 2011 at 9:53 AM

Hi Jenny, the mall's policy is that if you are taking a picture of your family, there is not an issue, multiple pictures or trying to "sneak" a picture at Santa's set are when there are issues, either store proprietary information or the fact that the pictures are sold with Santa visits. Thanks very much for asking and have a wonderful holiday season.

***

On Friday November 25th I was singled out and asked to stop using my camera by two security guards. I was told it was "Mall Policy" and if I didn't stop I would be asked to leave, while the security guard had her hand on my iphone. I'm confused because several other people were also using their cameras, but I, having my mother, a friend and two small children in tow, one in a stroller, seemed to be an easier target for enforcing the imaginary policy. I was not trying to take a photo of Santa, nor was I stealing any proprietary information. The link to the video of the security guard claiming it is policy and putting her hand on my phone is here http://bombadee.blogspot.com/2011/11/occupy-cherryvale-mall-rockford-il-on.html Awaiting your response.

Sincerely,
Jenny
Houston, Texas

Occupy Cherryvale Mall, Rockford, IL on Black Friday

Shortly after eating lunch and taking the children to see Santa, we heard people yelling in the town square of Cherryvale Mall.  We stopped just past the elevator and looked around.  A few years back someone lit themselves on fire in protest at the very same mall so of course like a true American I got my camera out.  I was face to face with the Occupy Rockford movement.  People strolled in calling and responding "Occupy Rockford!" They hung a banner from the second floor mezzanine and read a short paragraph just feet from us.  We were unable to discern much over the din of the holiday shoppers, other than "...We are your friends and neighbors!..." Next the police rushed up and confiscated the banner and stood very close to our neighbors who started to sing "This Land is Your Land."  Then I raised a camera to capture what felt sort of patriotic and sweet and this is what happened.

Other full video here.

Way to welcome out of town visitors Cherryvale Mall!

UPDATE: There is nothing in Cherryvale Mall's Code of Conduct that says anything about taking a video.

Camping for the Future

I got a new phone.  I love it.  Dan gave it to me right before I left on the long drive to Illinois for turkey, with two kids, a decrepit old dog and a bum knee in the car. I like to think he gave it to me so that if the car broke down I could tell Siri "I need a tow truck" and she would order one up for me, like a small computerized body guard or an obedient domesticated pocket robot assistant.  The idea of domestic robots is exciting to me.  Ten years ago, I named my first robot; Algernon will never know how to do more than vacuum a room, much less tell me what a Wappy Dog is or where to locate one but he is still monumental to me.

I want to keep my new pocket assistant safe, so I decided to find a case, or as I like to think of it a tiny little toddler proof vest.  I went to Best Buy.  To my surprise, there were people in tents on the side walk.  I got excited about talking to some Occupiers; maybe they would ask me not to patronize the corporate box store, maybe they would tell me about all the things in there not made in America, or about how none of the people working inside have the leverage to negotiate decent health insurance.  As I saw the camper's smiling faces, the realization they were camping in preparation for black Friday descended.  It was the exact opposite of what I was anticipating.

I thought about it the whole time I was shopping.  Protesting campers are maced and removed from public space under the guise of safety, but these voracious consuming campers preparing days in advance to storm the gates and trample people, possibly to death, in hopes of consuming more plastic electronics assembled by impoverished children in other countries, the very same items that will later be obsolete and occupy landfills also in other countries, leaching mercury and poisons out into the dirt, washing into the ocean and riding out on the winds young developing lungs breath... these campers are welcomed. (Ok, maybe I didn't think all of that at the time, maybe I was just trying to keep a one year old from falling out of the cart and the brilliant consumerism commentary was discussed and read later on Facebook) but, while I was shopping there was the echoing question of why these campers, but not those and as a result I couldn't buy anything.  I just didn't want to.

Breakfast at Bombadee's V

Jack's snack.

  

Breakfast at Bombadee's IV
Breakfast at Bombadee's III

Breakfast at Bombadee's II

Breakfast at Bombadee's

Breakfast

Jack bounces out of bed and climbs upstairs to wake Ella who is already sitting on the side of her bed rubbing the sleep from her eyes. I hobble up the steps as fast as I can to keep anyone from going back to sleep or eating any leggos. After we pick clothes, we all rumble back down to the dining room and eat cereal in various dampnesses while I sip instant coffee. Everyone is officially UP and I lament running on five hours of sleep.  I am a notorious insomniac. While we wait by the window for the neighbor to pick Ella up for school, I peel the tape off my knee and we all peer at the scar underneath. Ella asks me if I am all right and I say the truth, "No it hurts, and it's going to hurt for a while, while it heals." Then her ride is here and she is off to school.  She is bursting about her first Girl Scout meeting and I can hear her already telling everyone in the carpool it is tonight.

Jack sits down in the living room ready to watch his favorite show while working at peeling the tabs on his diaper. I finally help him and upon feeling the open air on his hind side, he takes off running through the kitchen. He makes six or seven giggling laps around the island before he comes back to the living room dancing to the music from the television.  I turn towards the computer to see if I have any e-mail and turn the volume up on NPR. I tune in WNIJ, because I like to hear the news and the voices from Illinois, the same people that have told me things every morning of my adult life, it makes me feel stable.  I hear water hitting the floor behind me and remember Jack isn't wearing anything on his bottom half. I grab a paper towel, wipe up the little puddle and explain to my son again, that if he has to pee he should go to the potty in the bathroom. He seems to be telling me something, perhaps explaining his reluctance, but I don't speak seventeen month old as fluidly as I'd like so I just nod and say, "I see."

He runs to the kitchen and pulls on the refrigerator handles telling me he's ready for something more exciting than dry cereal. I open the door for him and he peruses the eye level shelf where I keep all the Jack friendly foods. He hands me a small crate of blueberries and an avocado. "Good choice" I say and cut a slice of avocado into little squares and put them next to the berries on a plate. While he munches, I get my bagel out of the toaster and spread butter on it. I think; butter in Texas spreads so easily, you don't have to fight with it like you do in Illinois. Up north the butter is never warm enough to spread and you are trying to shave a millimeter from the top so you can put a thin curl of it on you toast to melt and you have to do it while the toast is still warm, so there's a time factor.  If you say, screw it and get a solid square from the end you end up with big divots in your toast as you try to drag the chunk across your breakfast.  This must be why that southern lady, on television, likes butter so much; she never had to fight with it in the morning.

I wonder how long it will take before I stop comparing here and there when a quiet knock at the door drags me from my thoughts.  The neighbor lady I like so much is standing there with a Starbucks in her hand. I say "Come on in" and she says she doesn't have time, but she was having a tough morning and stopped for coffee for herself and thought I should get a fancy coffee too. She hands me a mocha and smiles. I tell myself again, I must do something amazing for their family on Christmas. I'm not sure what, as she out housewives me on a regular basis, so I consider doing a small painting of their house. She compliments my pajamas and I become hyper aware of the fact that I only seem to see people around here when I have no bra on.  I thank her and say we should go to lunch sometimes soon, again vowing in my head to buy lunch for her and she agrees we should go sometime soon.

Next, I'll get dressed and drive to my physical therapy appointment.  I'm hoping there will be a nap after, in which Jack and I snuggle up into a tight knot of chubby limbs and soft curls. I'll lie perfectly still trying to will Jack to sleep while he squirms and kicks and fights off missing a minute of the waking world. When his blinks get longer and longer, I'll know it's alright to drift off.  But first I'll set my alarm for 2:30 to ensure I don't miss picking the children up from school, knowing Jack always wakes me far before the alarm does.

The Prefect Car Seat

I'm going to buy a new car seat today.  A front facing one so Jack can sit up high on longer drives and see the world.  I went and looked yesterday for one that reclines so when he falls asleep his little head isn't lolling about with every bump and the one I liked was the most expensive one in the store - damn.  So today I'm going over to Once Upon a Child to see if they have that model or one similar, for less.  It needs to be side impact tested, have a five point harness, and recline slightly.  It would be awesome if it also had a cup holder and easy clips so getting Jack in and out isn't always a yoga experiment.  While I'm at it, it'd be stellar if the thing could;
-have a heated and cooled seat depending
-clean itself of crumbled gold fish and raisins
-be antibacterial
-have a vibrate to sleep setting
-only use up the space of one seat
-fold into something portable on wheels so I could take it to the airport
-have quiet little speakers on each side so Jack can listen to Justin Roberts while I listen to NPR
-be less than $100.00

Stupid Yesterday

Yesterday was stupid.  After closing out the day with three beers, I just don't have the energy to write the narrative, so let me just give you this list of things that yesterday brought to my house in no particular order; dog pee, a broken glass, tiny shards of glass in every corner of the entire kitchen and dining room, poo on the floor (not the dog's,)  dog food scattered across the dining room floor, robot head making instead of homework, three different dinners nobody liked, flying macaroni and cheese, almost non-stop nursing, dog pee, small leggos under my feet, 4 baths (not for me,) a soaking wet bathroom floor, an astonishingly refreshing five minute nap at bedtime (again, not for me,) two bedtime snacks, late night beat-boxing from bed, clean laundry on the floor, broken dishwasher, and dog pee (yes, again!)  All I have to say now is good riddance and Yesterday better run and hide, because if I ever see it around here again I'm going to slap the crap out of it and sick my dog on it and my dog will totally pee all over Yesterday's feet.

We Like the Biz

Ella: "You know Biz's Beat of the Day on Yo Gabba Gabba?"

Me: "yeah, what about it?"

Ella: "I was thinking his mom must be very proud of him."

Me: "Why is that?"

Ella: "Because he's such a great beat boxer."

Me: "I'm sure she is, Sweetheart."