Disjointed Musings

Home is where my stuff is

2007-10-26T07:42:00.000-06:00

It'll be two weeks I've been in Sudbury soon, living out of my luggage at my Mom's place, and I'm already going nuts. I love my Mom dearly, really I do. But I'm too much of an independent person who likes things her way to enjoy this setup for long. It's not that I don't love my Mom. It's more that I miss sleeping in my own bed, eating my own food, watching my own TV and playing on my own computer. I know where the comfy spots are on my couch, and I much prefer the look of my red micro suede living room furniture to my Mom's semi-formal dusty rose colored things. Heck, I couldn't stand living at home after college... Love my family, love my space.

Eh, it's for a good cause. I got my job, Gunther's transfer is looking more promising by the day, G Jr is loving the attention he's getting from the family he didn't get to see very often, and I'm sure GIII would too if he knew what was going on. All that needs to be done is get out of my Mom's place and into our own house, and we're set. Shouldn't be too hard.

And don't get me started on the lack of transportation... I don't think I'd be too horribly bored if I could get out of the house while my Mom was at work. My car is still in Edmonton right now, but a good friend of ours is going to be flying out and driving it back for us early next month, so I won't be without wheels for long. But unless I want to take a rambunctious 3 year old and a growing like a weed infant on city transit, I'm stuck here until my Mom's off work. Well, I could pick her up and drop her off, but I really don't feel like packing the kids in the car at 5:30 in the morning. G Jr would wake up and there would go my sleeping when we got back idea.

I know... These are really minor things to gripe about in the grand scheme of things... But you get used to things being a certain way and it's hard to change. As is, I'm slowly getting used to the fastest speed limit in town being 30 less than what I'm used to travelling at, the lack of malls to wander on crappy days, and the fact that all my scrapbook supplies will have to be mail ordered. The rest is taking a while.

Like there was any doubts...

2007-10-18T20:52:00.000-06:00

Well, we're in Sudbury. We being the whole family, minus Gunther. I hope the house sells quickly. The sooner it sells, the sooner Gunther can head this way. And phase 1 has already been executed and is successful.

I got the call a few hours ago. I got the job for Technical Trainer, making more that I was for the other company I was working as a trainer for. (No complaints there!) Like I said before, I was confident that I was the best candidate they could find, but it's still nice to know I beat out anyone else who tried. Bout fucking time a good job pans out for me in this city. Perhaps this is a sign of things to come. Perhaps Gunther's transfer turns out... (the company got bought, so there's still hope.)

G Jr's at his Grandpa's place having a "sleep over". So I'm down one rugrat tonight, and GIII is contently sleeping on me... And now I know we'll be ok here. I've got work, Gunther can get work, and we'll be able to start again. Nice to have things work out.

OMGWTFBBQ

2007-10-15T09:27:00.000-06:00

Point and click typing is a royal pain in the ass, which is why I haven't updated in a while. And I'm going to be sorry I haven't after this one. So much has gone on in the past few weeks, it's scary.

G Jr and GIII are still doing good, so no real worries there. GIII does have a slight newborn hernia that will need surgery soon, but aside from that he's doing exceptionally well. So fear not, the kids are alright. It's everything else that is questionable.

We've been slowly working on the move back home to Sudbury plan until the beginning of this month when it got forced into high gear for us. On October 2, the company Gunther and I work for went belly up nationwide.While Gunther is still working for them on a day by day basis so they can keep the contracts alive for whoever wants to buy them, I'm off the list, along with a load of other people. So there goes my health benefits. And who knows how long they'll need Gunther?

So, we needed to speed things up considerably. We'd rather be broke in Sudbury than bankrupt in Edmonton. And that's when we put the house on the market and I started looking for jobs in Sudbury.

As it stands right now, I've got a job interview for a technicial trainer position in Sudbury on Wednesday (I'd like to see them find someone more qualified than me in the area), and so me and the boys are getting on a plane tonight to head out east. Gunther's sticking around to move our stuff and sell the house.

So I'm going loopy, still have to pack, people coming by to see the house, GIII won't let me put him down and G Jr is doing everything in his power to make my head explode... And then I get to fly the red eye with two kids to Toronto, then spend 4 hours in a car with my father in law... I'm going to need copious amounts of booze when I get in.

Point and Click Typing - cruise control for Mommies

2007-09-20T15:31:00.000-06:00

To think, GIII should only be a few days old, yet a month has already passed. The days are slow, but the weeks are fast. He's growing quite well, and aside from being gassy and hating it (you can rarely get a burp out of him, and he squaks in pain and frustraition when he tries to toot), he's settling in well.

I can't help but be smitten with my boys (even when G Jr doesn't listen or when GIII keeps me up all night). Looking at my youngest makes me realize just how much my oldest has grown. Oddly enough, I miss the baby stage. This coming from someone who swore she would never have kids.

It's been a challenge. One-handed computer work was easier with G Jr because of the setup. I had abig desk where I could move the keyboard in range of my free hand and still be able to reach my Pepsi or snack. The chair I had had fixed arm rests that would hold my lap pillow snuggly. This desk is tiny and the adjustable arms are busted. Mind you, at least it provides me an intellectual outlet in compairson to children's television programming, which is the only channels G Jr will let us watch :P

So, I've become a user of the on-screen keyboard in Windows. You want to see slow? This makes 2-finger typists look like they're breaking the speed of sound. But it's better than nothing and without it, this post would not be... But now my mouse hand's tired...

Alive and kicking... albeit not too energetically

2007-09-07T18:42:00.000-06:00

GIII will be 3 weeks old tomorrow, and to think that I shouldn't have met him until this coming Monday. He's healthy and growing, but gosh, the idea of 3 extra weeks of sleep?

Eh, I can't complain too much. Gunther's been the best man ever, waking up in the middle of the night with GIII and letting me sleep on those nights when he knows there's no way in hell I'd be able to sit upright for more than 15 minutes with a warm baby against me. And giving me the chance to nap in the evenings on the days when I do get up with the little guy. Not to mention, helping out the other day when we were on "concussion watch" with G Jr after he and the sidewalk had a face to face meeting... Wonked his head so hard he vomitted... You'd think that with all the years I've protected his head (and protected other people/things from his head), that he would try to give it the same respect... But he wasn't paying attention, and neither was another kid, and *slam*. It happens.

And so, I'm in a fog and taking my fair share of advil to stave off the head pain caused from broken sleep (and the fact that when I do get some shut eye, it feels like someone's increased the gravity in my bed 10 fold), but it's worth it. G Jr's been good considering. Sure, he's acting out and he's at that age where he's going to "assert his independance" (read: argue every little thing he can think of), but he still likes his brother. Even though he has told me a couple times to put the baby away so I could get him some juice or tuck him in when he was lying down on the couch.

And GIII, while he still thinks night times are a perfect time to be awake, is getting better at staying asleep for longer periods of time. He's filling out, getting chubbier (his arms and legs are still spindly though, mind you they didn't fill out for G Jr until he was about 2 months old), and eating like its going out of style. I have this sinking feeling he's going to be bigger than his older brother. Which might be a good thing - someone needs to put that boy in his place from time to time :D

So, sleep and decent food, and perhaps a shower during daytime hours is all I really need. Other than that, I'm doing pretty good for someone who hasn't got anyone other than her husband to help out. Everyone I've talked to in the past 3 weeks from around here is absolutely amazed that we've made it this far without flying my Mom out or hiring a nanny. Guess Albertans are wimps :P

Motherhood can be gross

2007-08-30T20:04:00.000-06:00

Well, it hasn't been the easiest few days, but we've survived so far. GIII still has his days and nights mixed up, but there's not a lot of difference between his days and nights. I swear, he sleeps 20 hours a day and we have to wake him up for feedings (and it's a battle to get him to wake up too - cold washclothes and laying in his bed in his diaper still don't wake him up quick). But his wakeful periods are somewhere between 2 and 6 am, so I'm still suffering from sleep deprivation, among other things.

Like postpartum sweating. Gosh, I don't remember sweating like this with G Jr, and I had a load more fluid to get rid of thanks to being bloated from 2.5 days on an IV. At least it doesn't stink, but it's been a pain sleeping. It's cooled off enough to sleep with blankets, but if I cover up, I end up drenched. And if I take the blankets off, I freeze... Lovely, eh?

Then there's the chest cold I ended up getting. I've been snotty and coughing and wheezing since coming out of the hospital. It started off as a sinus cold, and I'm not sure what's better. Coughing phlem or having my eyeballs feel like they're going to drain out of my head with all the snot. Either way, it's not a pretty sight.

Lastly, the c-section... At least this time they did a damned good job putting me back together. If I was in the same pain I was after G Jr's c-section, I'd have shot myself after the chest cold started. Coughing nearly put me into tears for 4 weeks. This time, I'm a lot more mobile and in a lot less pain. And things were fine until yesterday when a hard and raised section of my incision popped... Fluid buildup. I thought Gunther was going to toss his cookies on me when I asked him to take a look at it for me (since I'm too short to see my lower abdomen in the mirror in the bathroom). So yay, a round of antibiotics started... Joy.

But all in all things are going well. GIII's doing good, even if he spends most of his time sleeping. Wish I could get away with that, but G Jr's out of daycare starting Monday... Can't afford to be on maternity leave and keep him in daycare. That one's bugging me, not because I want to be rid of the oldest during the day, but because he enjoys it so much. *Sigh*

And we're still working on the move to Sudbury. Still have too much stuff to do before we can do that, but it's still going to happen. And still before this winter hopefully.

1 of the three things my little GIII does (you can guess the other 2)

2007-08-25T22:37:00.000-06:00

Welcoming GIII

2007-08-23T20:09:00.000-06:00

First, let me start by saying that these past few months have been long and frightening. While I knew that going in, I didn't realize just how scared I would be. There was the threatened miscarriage at the beginning. The inital loss of my mucos plug at 18 weeks. Being diagnosed with a short cervix at 24 weeks. And every little thing that felt odd set me off - and when you're on rest and asked to count kicks every hour, it's hard not to notice a million things that don't feel quite right.

So with all that said, I honestly thought that if my son was born and given a clean bill of health, my fears would subside and I could start my life as a new Mom again. Sure, I'm not as nervous as I was the first time around. I was absolutely wired for G Jr's first 9 months of life. But with GIII, I have a whole different set of fears along with the new Mommy jitters, some of which may seem unfounded to others, but are quite real to me.

Wednesday of last week, I had abdominal cramps that came and went at regular intervals for a few hours. Thursday, it was back cramps. But Friday, into Saturday morning, it was real and true contractions. Considering the teasing my uterus gave me the past two days, I didn't take these contractions 100% seriously, even after they got worse. I stayed awake, but only after a while. Made something to eat, read a magazine, and when they got really bad, I took a hot bath to try and relax.

That didn't work. About 5 minutes after getting into the tub, the water started to turn red. I stood up and a small trickle of blood flowed down my leg. Then the contractions set in like they have for me in the past - 1 to 1 and a half minutes in length, 30 seconds apart, if I got a break at all. Found the only pad I could in the house, got partially dressed, sat down in my bedroom and woke Gunther up. He and G Jr. were ready long before I could muster the energy to move. Finished getting dressed, spent the time walking to the car and the drive there reassuring G Jr. that Mommy's alright, and got to L&D where things went at record speed.

I think at most, there were 4 nurses, 1 lab technician, and the OBGYN on call at my bedside after my inital assessment. Regardless of how far into labour I was (I don't even know how far I was dialated, if at all), my placenta was abrupting because of it. They told Gunther to find someone to watch G Jr. (which he did, bringing him to a friend's house) and get back as soon as possible or they would start without him. All I can say is that I hope there wasn't any photo radars set up on 91st.

Prepped, got the ever wonderful spinal block, and had the curtain put in place (which drooped over my face) by the time Gunther was brought in. Last minute blood test (I couldn't remember my blood type), and before I knew it, they were delivering my baby.

GIII entered this world at 8:15 am, Saturday, August 18th, weighing in at 5 lbs 7 oz and measuring nearly 19 inches long. He also didn't sound too thrilled about being taken out of his warm home and into the cold operating room. Then, it was a brief stay in the nursery for him for monitoring, and Mommy got stapled shut and brought to recovery.

Day 1 went relatively well. GIII, who they expected to spend 24 hours in the Premature Nursery, was discharged with flying colors and brought to my side in less than 12 hours. And although my nurse advised against it, I was up and walking after 8 hours. Finally had "real" food the next morning (if you count anything served in the hospital as real food.) So, all good. Day 2 started off the same way. Since I was healing well, there was no real need to keep me much longer. Now it was all GIII. First was the carseat test. Since he's smaller than they would like him to be, they needed to check to see how he faired in a carseat for an hour and a half. Back down to the nursery where they hooked him up to a bunch of monitors, strapped him in, and let him nap in there for 90 minutes. He passed (no shock there). And then there was the elevated bilireubin levels. GIII was a tad jaundiced. No shock there either, it's a common issue, particularly with premees. So he would have to spend the night under a blue light to help break it down. I was fine with that idea, until I saw how they were going to do it.

Gunther, GIII and I got back to my room after the carseat test to find a neonatal isolet at the end of my bed. You could have zapped me with jumper cables and I wouldn't have noticed. A damned incubator, just like the one Menerva Jr. spent her short life in. I couldn't help it, I began to cry. It hurt to see one of those things, especially with GIII in it. And it got no better during the night. The nurses tried to see if the nursery could take him so I could calm down, but they were full (and the neonatologist pretty much told me to "suck it up, princess"). Let's just say that my reaction to it was so bad that my OBGYN perscribed me anti-anxiety meds, just in case. That's right, my crotch doctor gave me something for my head. That's gotta say something (like "fuck you, asshat" to that neonatologist).

GIII spent 2 days under that light. And I spent two days bawling, hyperventilating and awake. With Menerva Jr., I had to associate the bad things with stuff I could leave behind. That pain is still too fresh.

Between Gunther and my Mom, they would like to throttle a number of the staff at the hospital for how they treated us after GIII began his light therapy. Gunther firmly believes that they have screwed my chances of rest and my Mom (a nurse herself) swears that their actions will greatly affect how long and how well I recover. I have to agree with them. Which is why I'm hoping I'm back in Sudbury when K has her baby, because I will not let her suffer like that. Gunther had no choice but to go home and watch G Jr. If I have to, I will stay with K in the hospital somehow.

But, we're home now. GIII got a clean bill of health and we were on our way so fast I'm sure I burnt rubber off the soles of my boots as I went. And there are no incubators here, just your typical baby stuff, which shouldn't trigger any horrible memories. And we're doing alright. GIII's got his days and nights mixed up and isn't the easiest to burp, which causes him to have bouts of tummy paid that heeps him up and squaking unless he's being held and bounced about. Gunther and I are a lot more calm this time around. Not much could bring a bigger smile to my face than watching Gunther talk to and hold his little boy. And G Jr. is a proud big brother whi is just absolutely amazed with how small and cute his baby brother is. It's quite entertaining to watch G Jr. make silly faces for GIII (every now and then, GIII gives him a "fart grin", which G Jr. interprets as his brother showing pleasure for the display and not that he's got gas. So far, it's all good.

And by the gods, I hope it stays that way.

Well, I guess we can stop counting now...

2007-08-22T12:55:00.000-06:00

More later, but I'm a proud Mommy again.

GIII was born at 8:15 on Saturday, August 18 at 35 weeks, 6 days gestation. He weighed in at 5 lbs 7 oz and nearly 19 inches long. Right now, he's sleeping, and I should follow his lead.

The tummy that cried wolf

2007-08-16T08:34:00.000-06:00

All day yesterday, my abdomen cramped up at irregular intervals. Nothing painful - just a somewhat uncomfortable clenching, kind of akin to really bad gas without the bloating. And it didn't seem to matter what I did. If I stood up, I'd cramp. Sit down? Cramp. Eat - cramp. Lie down - cramp. Do nothing whatsoever and just veg on the couch - cramp. So to hell with that, and since I've had my restrictions somewhat lifted, I took it upon myself to take a little walk when Gunther took the dog out. Just once, halfway around the block. And guess what? The cramps stopped.

Go figure.

Until I went to bed that is. That's when they like to come the most. Just as I'm trying to get comfortable and go to sleep for the night. I can nap during the day unaffected (save for the fact that everyone and their damned dog either calls me or makes a ruckus outside, and it's usually too warm for a good long sleep), but at night? Nope. And poor Gunther, I know he wakes up most times I do just because he knows I've gotten out of bed (even though we have one of those "independant pocket coil" mattresses that are supposed to prevent one person's movements from bothering the other) or I just can't take the being awake anymore and turn on the computer to check out the news or something and the light from the monitor stirs him. He usually just asks if everything's alright and when I answer "yeah, just (insert reason here)", he goes back to sleep, leaving me to eat my antacid and read up on the latest stupid thing the government's been up to.

Well, I swear, the moment I got the idea in my head that I was going to go to bed shortly, my stomach decided to clench on and off. I was playing World of Warcraft at the time, and telling a friend of mine that if this keeps up, I won't believe I'm in labour until GIII's waving at me from the excape hatch. Logged off shortly there after, curlled up in bed beside Gunther with my body pillow, and *cramp*... Ooookay, ignore it, try to sleep.

*Cramp*

I'm ignoring you. Time for sleep now.

*Cramp* and this time with mild pain wrapping from my back to my front.

Hmm... That's different.

Well, my stomach kept up that routine from 11:30 at night till 3:00 this morning. Just annoying enough to keep me awake. Every now and then, it would also send a shooting pain from my hips straight along my pelvic bone, just to change things up. They weren't horribly painful. Can't say that they tickled, but I could have slept through them if I wasn't so interested in seeing where things were going. And like labour, they picked up in intensity and duration up until 3 this morning and then...

Stopped. Completely. Just.stopped.dead.

Of course, the entire time GIII's doing his rendition of Stomp (normal for him late at night), so I wasn't concerned that he was being negatively affected by any of this, but I was then wired. Is it really happening? Now? What should I pack if things do progress? (Yeah, don't have bags set up yet.) I wasn't about to go rushing my ass to the hospital at the slightest twinge. Considering the incompitence the last time, plus the fact that my OBGYN has told me that they're not going to stop labour this time, there's no point in going in early. Might as well stick around at home until I have to go. So I lied in bed, wondering if things were progressing, just to have one helluvan anticlimatic experience that kept me up for another 30 minutes after that, just wondering what the fuck happened?

Then, wake up at 4:00 with heartburn (GIII's Stomp rendition included my stomach I guess). Then again at 6:00. Then again at 7:00... So I'm bloody tired.

And guess what? We've gone back to the non-painful tightening (and GIII's now doing a soft shoe dance instead of his more active performance of this past night, so I know he's still doing alright but damn, figures, he gets to sleep). And I'm supposed to be working right now (still working from home, loving that part). If it wasn't for the fact that I'm a touch typist, I'd never have made it this far in this posting cause I can't see straight thanks to being horribly drowsy. Good thing I don't have to drive anywhere. So, for my lunch break I'm taking a nap, and if the contractions resume when I lie back down, I'll be tempted to go in after the kid with a can opener. Like my Grandfather used to say, "shit or get off the pot." Crude, vulgar, but makes sense. Get it over and done with, or stop wasting my time and sanity. It's not like I'm not anxious enough to meet the little guy as is.

35

2007-08-12T10:45:00.000-06:00

Another week down. Slowly getting closer to GIII's birthday. And I've still got a lot of work to do. Not necessairly to get ready for his arrival - I just need to do a bit of laundry for that and make a run to the store for diapers and wipes. But I mean packing the house. Cause the moment we can move across country with him, we're going. Especially after yesterday, when no conscious 11 year old neighbour boy decided to pull a knife on 9 year old boy of friends of ours in what started as a shouting match over picking on each other's siblings. G Jr. is NEVER playing with ANY of the neighbour's kids EVER AGAIN! And he's not going to be outside if they are either. And that's fucking sad that I have to do this in my own fucking home, but since H (the 4 year old G Jr. used to play with), aside from being a backtalking twit that G Jr. has learned too many bad habits from already, emulates her brother? What other choice do I have?

Yeah, like we'll be psycho family free in Sudbury. I'm sure there's a fair number of insane gene pools in that area too, but hopefully we'll be able to screen the neighbours before we settle on a house. I just can't take much more of them. If I caught G Jr. doing anything of the sort that happened yesterday, he'd not see the outside of his bedroom for a month. Yet, what does the boy's dad do to punish him? Lets him loose in the back yard with power tools to help finish their deck, something he enjoys doing!!!!! Where as our friend's kid, who didn't start it but should have walked away, has lost his TV privelages for a week and isn't allowed to go outside of his own properity, nor have his friends over for his part in the fight and for not walking away. Our friends' kids, aside from being typical for their ages, are well behaved. Mom and Dad say come in, it's time for bed, and yeah they may whine for a bit but they head in the house. They say please and thank you. They ask for permission before doing things. You know, stuff you'd expect from well raised kids. As for the neighbours... I don't want to find out the full extent of carpel tunnel syndrome in order to write out the huge stain they've made on the human gene pool, but believe me, there is nothing polite or civilized about the lot of them.

After that incident yesterday (Gunther was keeping an eye on them from the window, not wanting to intervein unless necessary cause lets face it, kids will bicker and argue regardless), I have a new found respect for my parents moving our family to the middle of nowhere when we were kids. Sure, we had idiot kids near by. But there was something about not having to see or hear them when in your own back yard. And if that didn't detour the twits, the company of canines we kept did. Dobermans and rottweilers, albeit sweet and friendly (anyone who says Angel was otherwise did NOT know my pup-pup) incited enough fear in others for them to mind their P's and Q's when on the properity. I don't think that was the intent my parents had when they got our first "mean" dog Beau. She was just a sweetheart and my parents wanted something that was not only beautiful and elegant, but was intelligent (and boy did they get that with her). But still, I remember well that the twerp kids in the area wouldn't come over to play if Beau was in the yard (and I do remember my Mom saying "No, Beau wants to play with you and your sister, she's not coming in and you're not leaving the yard"... I'm sure that was her intent to keep the neighbourhood kids at bay from time to time). Apollo doesn't incite the same fear... Maybe I should get a rottie... Wonder if my Mom will lend me hers?

*Sigh* Just waiting for September to get here... And then, for the house to be sold. Not putting it up until after GIII's born. So now I've got another reason to want it to happen sooner than later.

34

2007-08-07T22:13:00.000-06:00

So, I've made it to the biggest milestone yet - 34 weeks. If GIII is born anytime now, there's a good chance he'll be able to come home with me in a few days after birth. And it's getting to that point where I wish I could evict the little guy from my belly. Don't get me wrong - I'm not about to go doing every wives' tale out there to start labour early. He can stay in there as long as need be. But if he's ready to come out with no harm or affect to him short or long term in any way, then geeze, get out please!

I don't remember things being like this with G Jr. He prefered to stay curlled up in a ball until he was born, and then he decided to stretch out. GIII is constantly stretching. I actually have bruises on the top of my abdomen by my rib cage where he's been stretching his legs out to. And waking up 2 times a night to chew a bunch of rolaids is getting to be an old joke. When he isn't trying to kick my boobs (I swear, he's going to hit them soon enough), he's trying to rearrange my supper. Thanks to the heat as of late, I haven't eaten a full meal in a long time. Just been snacking and having small meals instead. But its getting annoying when you're in the middle of having a sandwich and after 3 bites, you feel full cause someone's decided to put his feet where your lunch should be.

And this time, his wiggles and stretches hurt. With G Jr, it was just cute to watch. With GIII, I feel like he's wearing stelleto heels while doing his acrobats. I never thought it was supposed to be painful. At least not for me, with my extra padding. Mind you, it could be much worse... So I guess I can put up with another few weeks. It's just beginning to feel like forever.

Shrugs

2007-07-31T09:50:00.000-06:00

Although I've known this for years, it only seems fair to say to the city of my birth - I'm too good for you.

I'll always love Sudbury. To some extent, it will always be home to me. It's the place where my family lives. It hosts a load of familiar places, faces, smells and sights. It's where a quarter of a century's worth of memories were made. But at the same time, it just doesn't seem the same, you know? It's like those TV shows where you see a grown child staying with his or her parents, in their old childhood bedroom which has been kept exactly as it was when they were teenagers. Everytime I go back, I feel older, wiser, and in all honesty, too good for Sudbury.

So, it would seem odd that we're looking to move back in a few months, wouldn't it?

Well, like I said, it's the place where my family lives. Edmonton is booming too big and it's going to crumble under its own growth soon enough. And I don't want to be one of its casulties. So that's part of the reason. I mean, if we lose the house, we lose how much money, above and beyond what is still outstanding on the mortgage? Not to mention, like we can truly afford 1400 a month in daycare, and there's no way we can survive out here without two incomes. Everywhere you look, there's a "day home", and the prevelance of them all doesn't make me comfortable thinking that they're being watched properly or licensed accordingly. That and you get what you pay for, and G Jr has enjoyed and learned so much at his current daycare, that I would be conflicted with the idea of pulling him and placing the two of them in some other care center.

Yet still, Sudbury thinks its all that and a bag of chips, so I'm sure that I'll have trouble as I did before finding decent work. But this time, I plan on being a bitch. I'd like to see someone try to say that I don't have experience now. 2.5 years of keeping the training department of an international computer company's office in Edmonton afloat, providing various levels of training to people of various degrees of technical knowledge (and IQ, I swear) on various technologies and skills? Yeah, I may not have the experience to be a brain surgeon, but I'd love for them to prove I don't have the skills to be a tech. Plus, I'm loving how that since my departure, the training department in Edmonton has become the laughing stock of the head office of my old employer >:) What can I say? The only person who didn't understand that I was the best damned thing they had was my boss. Even the head office is saying "If we had Menerva there, we'd be able to do that." I'm LOVING that! Mind you, that and a buck won't get me a coffee.

And I already know how it's going to go. We've told everyone out there that this isn't a permenant thing. That if Sudbury doesn't work out again, we're off to wherever we can make things work. If that means Edmonton again, then so be it. Could be anywhere between BC and the east coast. The plan is at least to stick around the Sudbury area for at least 3 to 5 years. The first few months, people will be all excited that we're back. There will be phone calls, visits, etc. And then after that, it'll wane horribly, to the point where if we don't instigate the calls or visits, they'll barely happen. They'll take for granted that we're here, and people will go back to contacting us because Gunther has a truck and they could use his help, or if their computer is on the fritz, and then they'll be shocked as hell when we say we're packing up and moving again. How do I know this will happen? Cause I know our families, and its exactly how they reacted to our original move to Edmonton. Plus, it's how we get treated to some extent now. Phone calls grow short and far apart, visits are limited... And we still want to move back? Well, we're doing it more for the little G's. They deserve to know their family. I can put up with being ignored... I know that they wouldn't ignore them.

Over the years I've developed a stronger introverted, self sufficent personality. And I think it'll get stronger when I move back. And perhaps I'm just being bitter and pessimistic but I'd rather think of it as realistic and jaded. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, own the company. Gunther and I have survived this long without our families around, and could do so for years longer. While I still need them, I haven't been dependant on any of them for ages. I think it's just that I feel bad that I don't feel they need me.

33 weeks and TMI

2007-07-29T12:06:00.000-06:00

We're finally in the "calm down and wait" stage. No longer am I going in for weekly ultrasounds to ensure that my cervix isn't shortening further, and my doctor's taking a relaxed approach to my visits, treating me as if I were a normal pregnancy at this point. Reason for all of this is that if GIII were to be born today, he's have an extremely high chance of making it unscathed. With that being said, if I go into the hospital, they're not stopping labour on me this time.

Now, this is where it gets interesting. GIII is give or take 4 lbs 3 oz according to my last ultrasound. Mind you, that's give or take nearly 7 oz, so I'm going to guess closer to 4.5. Still, that's all within norms. However, they're telling me that GIII's small (between 10th and 50th percentile)! And they're telling me that G Jr was small when he was born! He was 7 lbs 1 oz at 39 weeks 1 day. Sure, a far cry from the 8 to 10 pounders common nowadays, but by no means small. And no one would dare say he's a small kid now, given the fact that he's a 40+ pound, solid and sturdy 3 year old. He's been confused with kids 1 to 2 years older than him.

Because of that, and the fact that my OB still doesn't want to bet money on me making it to my scheduled C-section, he's trying to talk me into trying VBAC. If there is anything that has made my being a patient of his more of a pain in the backside than anything, its the fact that I'm extremely well informed. I know what VBAC is, the risks associated with it, the percentages of sucessess and failures, the requirements for a good candidate, etc. And you know what? I won't kid anyone and say that I don't want to try going "normally". Just the prospect of not having to put up with 6 weeks of recovery from an abdominal wound would be worth it. But given the discussion I had with my OB back in Sudbury at my checkup after G Jr was born, I'm leary of the idea.

My labour was, in a word, scary. The nurses were spooked by it, saying it mimicked an induction gone horribly wrong. In active labour, when there is supposed to be breaks in between contractions and only 1 peak in your "textbook" example, I had contraction on contraction on contraction, and they had to adjust the monitor to actually read how high it was rating. That, coupled with the fact that G Jr still remained high in my pelvis (barely to say engaged) and that when they had to perform the C-section, the doctor noted that the muscle that they cut into was thinner than he would have liked, my OB suggested that I not try giving birth vaginally at term. We never did discuss preterm delivery (cause it was never speculated that I was going to have the trouble I did), but he did specifially say "term". I believe this to mean a 5 to 7+ pounder. Preterm, well... We know I can do that. And my current OB keeps reminding me that I have delivered vaginally in the past. And I keep reminding him that Menerva Jr was a mere 1 lb 14 oz. I don't think that counts as a true vaginal delivery. Not to sound crude, but I could have sneezed and delivered her at that size.

And lets face it, with my luck, I'd be one of those women who would rupture or require a histroectmy (spelling?). I'm not trying to focus on that, but it's hard not to have those fleeting thoughts when GIII decides he's going to stretch out and I feel the twang against the old scar. No one can tell me exactly why I can feel that or why it feels like my pelvic bone is vibrating when he's sitting against the scarline (I keep being told that I shouldn't feel anything in the area of my scar). But it's hard to ignore it at times, and Gunther has given me a few of the weirdest looks when he sees me nearly jump out of my chair when one of those sensations hits.

Mind you, I still have a number of weeks to go. And GIII hasn't tried any other escapes (although a small part of me still wishes he would so I could stop all of this worrying). So if I can make it to Sept 10, or otherwise talk my OB into seeing things my way, it should be good.

Does this make me a bad person?

2007-07-27T09:47:00.000-06:00

There are a load of kids that live around here, however, the closest in G Jr's age and location happens to be a 4 year old that lives next door... And does it make me a bad person if I want to throttle the little twerp every time I have the displeasure of seeing her?

Well, perhaps I should explain a bit more before you make that decission.

She's the second youngest of the insane family that lives next door to me. We have the mid 40's father, his common-law second wife who's the 24 year old best friend of his step daughter, his 14 year old daughter from his first marriage who the neighbourhood kids and parents are calling the lesbian wannabe, the 10 year old jackass boy fromt he first marriage who has no conscious or care of what his actions do to others, the 4 year old lippy bossy twerp from this odd union, and the 2 year old girl from this union as well who's normally found running around the back yard in the nude and has already been brought to the hospital once last year for eating paint when no one was looking. Then there's their yappy dog that I could cheerfuly shoot when it wakes me up in the middle of the night. But that thing's another story, as is the encounters I've had with the rest of them. We'll stick with H, the 4 year old.

If I've learned anything, its that regardless of how well you raise your own children, you face the threat of having all your hard work thwarted by everyone else's kids. While I will never say that G Jr is the most polite and thoughtful child of his age (cause I know he's just a kid and being rude and selfish comes with the territory), he's honestly a good kid. And I'm not saying that cause I'm biased either. Although we still need to remind him on occasion, he does remember to say please and thank you most times. He does share, even though sometimes he needs to be prodded to do so. He doesn't like it when he knows someone's hurting and wants to help. And he is a very loyal friend to those he enjoys being around. For example, a boy that lives 2 doors down (one of our friends' kids), G Jr has loved since they first played together. Sure, the kid's 8 and doesn't always want to play with a 3 year old. But he's good with G Jr, and G Jr thinks the world of him. It's actually quite sweet to see them playing together, cause our friends' kid will do his best to limit what he's doing to involve G Jr, like playing kickball without kicking it over his head, or having bike races and he lets G Jr win :) It's going to be fun to see that kid when he's older... I just have a feeling he'll be good with his own kids when he has them.

Now, G Jr will do what he can to make his friends happy (much to my dislike at times). Being the youngest one running around, not all the kids want to play with him all the time. And that upsets him. At least once a day he comes into the house crying cause the other kids don't want to play with him, and while I don't try to baby him, I do usually get him to either play by himself with some of his toys, or get him to calm down by watching a cartoon. It makes me feel bad because I know that these kids are snubbing the best friend they could ask for (yeah, perhaps I'm slightly biased there), but I also understand how much I didn't want my sister tagging along with me when I was with my friends, so I can see how G Jr would be like that to others.

So that's where H comes in... Being close to G Jr's age, the two of them play often... And I can't very well tell him he can't, even though I really, really want to.

Like I said, G Jr's a pretty good kid. He's got his moments, sure. But what progress has been made in his politeness and acceptable behavious has been thwarted by this twerp. She has the respect for authority (read: her parents) as a criminal has for the police. She's extremely manipulative, bossy and a control freak. For example, her and G Jr will be playing outside, and if G Jr doesn't relinquish control of a toy of his that she wants to play with, then she'll throw a fit or go inside until G Jr's willing to give into her way. She comes over to our house to ask G Jr if he wants to play, and invites herself in, or tries to tell us that her parents said she can come with us if we're going out or join in our dinner if we're eating. Yesterday she tried to invite herself to sleep here. Gunther and I would much prefer not to have her anywhere near G Jr or us, so it's not like we've ever given her the idea that she could tag along on rides or sleep here.

But what gets my goat the most? How G Jr is now emulating her disregard for her parents' wishes. G Jr has been pushing boundaries. For example, he knows how far and where he's allowed to go on his bike. And yesterday I had to go chasing after him (Gunther got called out to do a server move) down the back laneway because H thought it would be a good idea to go biking down to the end and back and stopped on the way to say hi to some guy working in his back yard about 10 houses down. Yeah, so that good and pissed me off, cause he ignored me calling him (the twerp was heard to say "It's your Mom, just ignore her, she's coming this way anyways."), and cause afterwards, I started cramping up from movement and I'm sure stress. But then there was when he came in after that cause I wasn't letting him run amok outside when I can't go chasing after him. Told him that because he couldn't stay where I could see him, then he was staying inside and no, H was not coming in. He could watch TV, play with his puzzles or toys, whatever he wanted to do. So long as he was inside. And what did he do? The same thing I've seen H do a number of times. Open the front door and say over his shoulder that he didn't have to listen!

And that attitude continued all night, even after Gunther got back from his service call. But 90% of it was directed at me (as H's is always directed at her mother's). It took me a few hours to calm down after all that last night, because I mean, how do you correct this issue without removing the problem? And I can't very well do that without breaking the law. If G Jr's outside, it's likely H is outside too. And like I need to have that fight if I tell G Jr he's not allowed to play with her. Either he'll throw a fit, or the crazy neighbours will be a pain in the ass moreso than they've been lately.

So here's what we're doing... Although it wasn't decided last night (we've been throwing this idea back and forth since I got pregnant with GIII and it officially solidified shortly after I was discharged from the hospital after being in there for a week), we're moving back to Sudbury after GIII's born and settled. It may seem a little drastic to move half way across the country to get away from a family of nutcases, but they're only a small part of the reason. The rest of it stems from a number of things, such as the fact that our families have got a lot smaller since we moved out here (recent additions to the list would be now both of my grandparents on my Mom's side, Gunther's Mother, and soon will be his grandpa), the profit we make off this place could afford us a better place in Sudbury and possibly mortgage free, and the free babysitting would be nice. Plus, we've done the math and if things work out, we could live on one decent income (which shouldn't be hard for Gunther to get), and so that would save us a load of money because we wouldn't be spending my paycheck to put the kids in daycare.

Besides, it's more legal than what I'd prefer to do... Unless I can claim Darwin's theory for stomping out an entire gene pool, it's best to leave the nutcases in Alberta and hope they don't travel east.

Street Freak

2007-07-23T21:47:00.000-06:00

I'm sure my neighbours think I'm clinically insane now. Meh, like I care.

It's been extremely warm here these past few weeks (well, extremely warm for Northern Alberta), and we've been at "risk" for thunderstorms since this heatwave started. And until tonight, nothing really came of these warnings. A few raindrops, a bit of wind, but nothing much. Then, the wind ripped the screen out of my bedroom window (that makes another screen I have to replace, damnit) and the rain started to come down. As Gunther was looking out the window, he realized a problem. He forgot to put the spouts down on the eves, and was not looking forward to getting drenched in order to do it. At this I scoffed, grabbed a towel, and headed outside.

What should have been an in and out job (two spouts, 20 feet from the door) tuned into a 15 minute frolic in the front yard as it poured. G Jr got the guts to join me (crouched down so the water wouldn't run down the back of his shirt), and the two of us splashed bare foot on the sidewalk while Gunther laughed.

And now I'm back inside, drying off, and realizing it was a much better temprature outside, regardless of how wet it was. But I can't sneek out until G Jr goes to bed, or I'll have a three year old tagging along. However, I can't blame him. I felt like a kid again doing that.

32, finally

2007-07-23T12:07:00.000-06:00

Closer and closer every day... And I'm getting a tad excited about it being all over and finally meeting this guy. Not to mention, to be able to walk without feeling like my pelvis is going to split in two. Same problem I had when I was pregnant with G Jr. I swear I was going to snap in half. But then again, I didn't feel that way until about 36 weeks along. Plus, I carried G Jr. more outward than I'm carrying GIII. Still got a big belly, but comparing my current stature to photos from the same time period when I was pregnant with G Jr, and my belly stood out a lot further the first time around. GIII is more up and down.

It wouldn't surprise me if I wasn't suffering from overly slack bones at the moment. There's a technical term for it, but damned if I can remember it at the moment. My neck seems to crack and pop moreso than before, and I swear that when I try to stretch my arms and chest, I can sometimes feel my ribs pull apart ever so slightly. That might also just be me being a tad over sensitive to my own current state. Not like I have a load to focus on when I can't move around.

My stamina has gone straight down the tubes. I've been allowed to do a little more activity than before, considering I'm closer to my due date than they figured I'd get, plus the fact that my cervix has behaved all this time. So on Saturday, I walked from the car to the bookstore to get myself a copy of the new Harry Potter book. All of maybe 50 feet? And I had to sit after I paid for the book (good thing the food court is right outside of the bookstore in the mall we went to). I remember doing groceries the day before G Jr was born. Although my back hurt (little did I know that I was in early labor), I had the stamina to go up and down all the isles and push the cart. And now I can't even walk from the car to the bookstore. A part of me (the part that's hating the heat at the moment, oddly enough) hopes the weather stays nice for quite some time, so that when I bring GIII home, I can take him in a stroller for walks and hopefully regain some of my pep. Yeah, I wasn't an energetic individual before all this. My motto was "Running is an unnatural act, except from enemies or to the bathroom." But this getting winded and dizzy walking BS is driving me nuts. And its really not helping the bedrest thing. I don't think it would bother me so much if I could get off bedrest and be able to go back to normal. Knowing that I can't irks me, especially considering how much energy I'll need with two boys under one roof.

We took G Jr to one of my ultrasound appointments so he could see his brother. He knows his brother is in Mommy's tummy, but he doesn't seem to believe it much. So we thought it would help him believe and understand it. And so, Gunther brings him into the room after the technician checked out all they had to. First thing out of G Jr's mouth? "Where's the knife to make the hole in your tummy Mom?" So much for the 3 days of explaining to him how ultrasounds work. But when the tech was showing him his brother, he got all quiet like when he met my friend's newborn. She did a good job of making him understand what he was seeing. GIII had his hand up infront of his face, and she told him that he was giving him a high 5. G Jr smiled and high 5'ed the air towards the monitor. Mind you, after the experience, I wished I brought him in months earlier to see his brother, when there was more room for his brother to move and so he'd get a better image. However, since then, he's hugged my belly daily out of the blue. He still keeps asking when his brother will come, so his concept of time hasn't improved, but he's getting more excited.

And so am I for reasons mentioned above... Mind you, that will change afterwards and I'll be excited to get a full night's sleep.

31

2007-07-16T09:34:00.001-06:00

You know, I never thought I'd make it this far. Especially considering last week's fiasco. But here I am, 31 weeks, and GIII's still in there. He's still facing my back, which means I don't get to feel as many of the movements I normally would, but he does enjoy stretching so I can for sure feel that.

And I've finally gone past my fear of buying stuff for his arrival and did some shopping. G Jr's playpen was falling apart as he was getting too big for it, so I really didn't want to reuse it with GIII. And then Toys R Us had one on sale that has the top cover (which is a good "keep the cats out" cover), so I bit the bullet and bought it. And, on top of having that cover thing, it has one thing I would have given my left eye for when G Jr was an infant - an attachable higher level bottom. You know, like with a crib, where you can have the bottom of it raised higher so you don't have to pretty much get into the thing to get your child out of it? Oh gosh, I would have loved that, at least when I was recovering from the c-section. Remember I'm short... the top of the playpen was level with my scar. I had to get on my tiptoes to get G Jr out of the playpen until he was old enough to sit up.

So, 31 weeks... I'm glad. You know what? I'll shock the heck out of everyone and go to term. Or I'll try. But here's hoping he doesn't decide to come out today... My damned car's on the fritz. Stupid electrical problems.

The lesser of two evils at this point

2007-07-12T21:50:00.001-06:00

Well, it's official. Regardless of the fact that the GNH has said that given GIII's status I can deliver there, I'm going to the place I hate - RAH. Why? Well, let's see...

After all the bullshit yesterday, I was discharged from the hospital by one of my OBGYN's partners. I'm assuming he didn't get the opportunity to tell him that much (as he was just getting into the office after being on call when my appointment came today.) GNH had informed my doctor's office that I had delivered... And not only that, that I discharged myself from the hospital. So here I am, ready to complain about the substandard care I received at the hospital and my OB's ready to tear a strip into me for discharging myself from the hospital hours after delivering! And then he had the adacity to side with the nurses at the hospital, saying that he'll "look into" my complaints, but that they know what they're doing.

At least the RAH is known for it's L&D and NICU. As much as I hate the place, I'll put the extra 20km on my car the next time I go into labour. If this kind of care is what I can expect from the GNH, then that's it.

Pisses me off though... I really liked that place until today. But if that's what I can expect post-natal and they "know what they're doing", then no fucking way am I letting them care for my son.

I think I jinxed myself

2007-07-11T19:27:00.000-06:00

Midnight yesterday. In bed, sweating like usual (it's been warm here lately, and me without A/C). Nose is driving me nuts because of the fan, but there's no way in heck I'm turing it off. Sneezing fit comes on. Then, 5 minutes later, my stomach clenches up like a fist.

GIII is still wiggling and moving, but every now and then it feels like someone's sucking the excess space out of my abdomen and I can feel every little bump, joint and curve he's got. So I do what the nurses tell me to - pee, drink a huge glass of cold water, and lie down for a bit to try to make it go away. Worked the last time...

1:30. I nudge Gunther and tell him I'm heading to the hospital. The cramping hasn't gotten any worse, but it's no better either, and we've passed the 1 hour mark. He asks if I want him to drive me there and I say no, that I'm only going to the GNH which is 5 km away. I get dressed and head over to the emergency department of the hospital, which brings me upstairs to the maternity unit shortly thereafter.

Turns out that my OBGYN is on call that night too, so lucky me, I get to talk to someone I consider compitent. They hook me up to the fetal monitor and sure enough, I'm having very mild, regular contractions. My doctor comes in and reconizes me, and immediately brings the staff up to speed on my history and current state. He does a few tests, the nurses give me something to halt contractions, and they call the RAH to confirm when I was given the steroid shots to help speed up GIII's lung maturity. My cramping slowed down considerably by the time they verified that I was indeed having contractions, and stopped altogether shortly after the nurse gave me the NSAID. But they decided to keep me in for a little while, just incase, because my fFN test came back positive.

And that's when it got fucked up. They brought me up to the post-natal unit (for whatever reason, I'm not even bothering with trying to figure it out anymore), and one woman spent a half hour trying to find a vein in my hand to start an IV in. She then brings in another nurse, who spends another 15 minutes trying to find one, decides to use my right hand instead of my left, pokes and because they've had the tourniquet on for 45 minutes, my vein is super full. So, mess all down my hand, on the floor, and get this, the nurse wasn't even wearing gloves! Sure, I know I haven't got anything contageous, but who's to say she washed her hands well enough after visiting a different patient who may have? I was none too pleased. That was 7:00 this morning, since I had been there at quarter to 2 in the morning. No breakfast (didn't help having an empty stomach when seeing myself squirt blood on the floor), and nothing until lunch, which was served at 1:00.

They hooked me up with antibiotics and when I asked why, they said "Well, it's cause your membranes are ruptured silly!" Uh, no they're not. And they wouldn't take my word, nor check the chart until I told the charge nurse that no, my membranes were intact, and illuded to the fact that I know how to disconnect IV lines correctly. Well lo and behold! My chart actually said what I was saying! Who would have thought that?

The neonatologist came by to talk to me, and was a lot more positive than the rest of them (who still thought that my membranes were ruptured.) Because of GIII's size, gestational age, and the fact that I got the steroid shots, he has a 96% survival rate and will have about the same rate of being perfectly fine as a term infant. And because of that, plus the fact that using medications to halt contractions for too long can have some negative side effects on both me and the little guy, if I come back into the hospital with contractions, they're going to let it go.

I was discharged this evening at 5:00. When everyone realized that not only were the contractions gone but I knew what to do and what to expect, they realized they weren't doing anything (except giving me antibiotics I didn't need, not too thrilled about that one either). GIII's still wiggling, I'm not having any cramping, and I've gone back to sweating in my own house. Oh well. At least now, I know not to plan on a September baby... I don't think he'll make it that long.

3 Year Old Logic

2007-07-10T10:46:00.000-06:00

Gunther Jr.: "Where did the ladybug go?" (pointing to a plant in the flowerbed that had a ladybug on it a few minutes ago)
Mom: "I don't know honey, he probably flew away."
Gunther Jr.: "I like ladybugs."
Mom: "You do, do you?"
Gunther Jr.: "Yeah, I like to squish them."
Mom: "That's not nice! Why would you want to squish ladybugs?"
Gunther Jr.: "But Mom, you have to squish them to see if they have batteries or not."

We're now into single digit waiting numbers

2007-07-09T09:26:00.000-06:00

30 weeks. Going well if you ask me. We're out of the woods for a number of problems. GIII's chance of survival is now above 92% if he were to be born. And a small part of me sort of wishes that it would happen. I know, doesn't sound nice, but I'm sick of worrying. The rest of me knows that isn't something to wish for and feels guilty for even thinking of it. But, I've been a bundle of nerves (and understandably so) and honestly? It's getting tiring. Just 10 weeks till term, 9 till the scheduled C-section. I think I can wait. But it's been hard to not worry about every little thing, and harder still for me not to wish that I could breathe easily again.

Mind you, he's growing like mad. Average weight around this time is 3 pounds, and they figure he could be nearly 3 and a half. But another thing that they're freaking out about is that he's head down. Facing the wrong way (he's sticking his butt out, so he's facing my back), but head down. And for whatever reason, they take this as a sign that things might go early. GIII seems to be enjoying stretching out and sticking his butt out just below my ribs, making me look oddly lopsided. Gunther Jr. still hasn't seen him doing his acrobatics, only because he's got the attention span matching his age. If it doesn't happen right when I tell him to look, then he's not going to wait around to see.

And so the fun begins. Gunther Jr. knows his brother's in Mommy's belly, but where's his sister? (He doesn't remember Menerva Jr. I don't think he really knows he had a sister for 2 weeks. But he did want a sister, and I think because he figures he wouldn't have to share his toys.) And how did his brother get in there? (How do you answer that?) And how is he going to get out? I did tell him that a doctor is going to carefully take his brother out of a hole they'll make in my tummy (he was worried that Mommy would have a big owwie, but seemed to be calmed by the fact that he came out the same way and Mommy's fine). However, when Gunther Jr. first started asking all those questions, his Dad told him that there was a zipper... So that one was fun, trying to convince the little guy that no, Mommy did not have a zipper installed anywhere.

Ask G Jr if he's going to help with his little brother, and he's all cheerful and glad to help. I know that'll be short lived. But to hear him tell of it, he's going to teach his little brother everything from how to walk to how to ride a bike. We'll see though. A few weeks ago, a friend of mine had her little girl and we went to visit her in the hospital. Gunther Jr. was all excited to meet the new baby and was telling me on the ride there that he was going to hold her and sing songs. Mind you, when we got there, he was absolutely shocked with how small she was, and was too scared to come too close. Not like I would have let him hold her (love my boy, but I've seen what kind of damage he can do to his toys), but I crouched down to show him my friend's little girl, and Gunther Jr got all quiet.

"She's small Mommy."

"Yes honey, all babies are small. You were small like this once."

"What happened?"

"You grew up. All babies grow up. They don't stay small forever."

"Is my brother small?"

"Yes hon, and he'll get big just like you as he gets older."

"I was small?"

"Yes you were."

"Was Daddy small too?"

"Yep, when he was a baby, he was small like this too. So was Mommy."

"Wow."

I still don't think he gets the idea that he was small. He's seen pictures of himself when he was a baby (and refers to them as "Baby Gunther Jr." or "Me when I was a baby" but never as just himself), and he's seen babies before (my friend's child was the first newborn he's met). But as far as he's concerned, he's growing, but he's always been that size. Well, he can't remember that far back, so it's understandable. Boy is having a little baby around going to be a shocker for him. Aparently he's been telling all his friends at daycare about how he's going to have a new brother soon. And how his Mommy's going to have a hole cut in her tummy to get his brother out... The daycare staff think its cute, and haven't given him or us heck for that information circulating around the place. Gunther Jr. knows that when Mommy goes in to the hospital to have GIII, the doctors are going to make sure that I'm fine and not in pain (that was one of the things he's asked about). And that they're going to stitch the hole closed after so it goes away. Mind you, he doesn't seem to get that this will happen in September, cause every time I go in for a doctor's appointment or an ultrasound (so, twice a week), he asks if they're taking his brother out.

It's going to be interesting, two boys in this house... And when I get that urge to want things to be over sooner than later, I just remind myself of what's going to possibly happen when GIII's born, and how G Jr. is going to react to not being the only child anymore... Then I could cheerfully stay in this state for another year.

I'm melting!!!

2007-07-03T11:22:00.000-06:00

29 weeks... 10 more to go really, given the scheduled c-section. And this week is supposed to be in the mid to high 20's. I swear, GIII is a little heater. My blood pressure is well within norms, even in the evening, and it's the evening and overnight that I seem to feel overheated. Last night I slept with an ice pack on the back of my neck in attempts to cool myself down so I could sleep... And that didn't work until 3 this morning, and that's after the ice pack got to room temp.

I've been doing my best to keep cool, considering early in the morning Saturday I had nasty abdominal cramps because of it. Not quite contractions, but not exactly your run-of-the-mill upset tummy either. That took a huge glass of cold water and an hour of relaxing to get rid of (and GIII kept wiggling as normal through them, so I doubt he cared or was affected.) But I don't feel like going through that one again.

Gunther is doing his best not to get too excited about GIII... I think it's because of Menerva Jr. He doesn't want to get his hopes up and find out that things don't work out. Can't say as I blame him, but it's getting a little difficult for me not to get a little excited. I can feel the little guy move, grow, hiccup (although that hasn't happened nearly as often as it did with his brother)... He's more removed from it, and I think that's where his safety zone lies. I know that once GIII's born and all's declaired fine, he'll be beaming and happy and whatnot. Just right now, he's trying not to. Wish I could do that... Not nearly as much as I wish I could cool off... If it wasn't for the fact I'm sure I'd have to spend a week at a chiropractor's office, I'd sleep on the cement floor in the basement.

Oh well. We're just going to have to move where there's more lakes to swim in...

28 weeks :)

2007-06-25T22:08:00.001-06:00

I was planning on updating, honestly. But I have a good excuse - it's Gunther's birthday :)

28 weeks and nothing new to report, save for my belly getting bigger.

27 and still going strong (I'm hoping)

2007-06-18T21:10:00.000-06:00

I was 5 and a half months pregnant with Gunther Jr. when that huge power outtage hit Eastern Canada and the North Eastern States. And, to add insult to injury, I was living on the 3rd floor of an already hot, all dark brick, south facing apartment building built on a huge rock outcropping. I swear I was going to melt. It was that day that I swore I was never going to have a summer pregnancy.

Yeah... That promise lasted :P

Meh, I can't complain. Gunther III is doing well so far, and so am I, save for being extremely sensitive to heat. It's a mere 23 degrees Celcius in here (so 2 degrees above average room temp) and I feel like I've been sitting in a hot tub for the last hour. You know that radiating heat you get after a hot shower or the like? That's what I feel like.

But aside from that, I feel fine.

26 weeks and counting

2007-06-10T20:32:00.000-06:00

Depending on who you ask, my "due date" (in quotes cause Gunther III is supposed to greet the world via scheduled c-section on September 10th) is either September 16 or 17. So, I'll go with the 16th in the evening and count that the middle mark and say I've made it 26 weeks so far. 1 week and 1 day longer than last time.

I'm still nervous. If anyone would have told me that my pregnancies would have gone this way after Gunther Jr., I'm not too sure I would have tried for any more. Not saying that I don't want Gunther III, or that I didn't want Menerva Jr. Gosh, I wish I could have both of them, alive, healthy and here driving me bonkers, just like their older brother is so capable of doing. But I'm the type who generally errs on the side of caution, and would prefer not to have that risk... The only reason why we tried again was because we believed the speculation the doctors made about Menerva Jr... That her premature birth was because of an infection that no one noticed. Guessing that was 50% of the problem at least. This time though, I've been checked and double checked and everything seems to be fine in that area.

Haven't got a thing ready for Gunther III's arrival. Some people have been telling me to go out (or rather, have the hubby do it) and get the things that we'll need now, not only to be ready, but so that in my own mind, I am "prepairing". However, I'm too bloody scared. I don't want to jinx anything. I've got enough room on my visa to get everything I need in one day when I can bring him home... I don't even want to go out and pick up so much as a pair of baby socks.

But so far, so good. Although I don't have another ultrasound appointment until this Thursday, things don't feel like they've changed. The little guy is enjoying the opportunity to kick Mommy's supper and give her heartburn. And I'm being entertained by watching him bounce about. So far, Gunther Jr. hasn't quite noticed it... He has once, but thought it was me just kidding around. And he's scared the cats, who I don't think understand that there's a baby in there. Omen will just stare, and Taboo will try and bat at the spot that moved with his paw.

Just one day at a time, right? I'm surviving so far. Unlike last time, my house is unpacked, I have a lot of things set up, and I have people around me I can call up for support. We were only in this house for 2 weeks the last time. I can do this. I did it the last time. I just hope this time, it works.

...at least they kept their promise

2007-06-09T09:53:00.000-06:00

I was told that at the very latest, they would assess my cervical length on Thursday and if there was no change, I could go home. I already had an appointment booked for 2:15 for an ultrasound on that day in the hospital, but since I was an inpatient, they cancelled my appointment and then managed to squeeze me in at the last minute. And lucky me, no change!

But then they had to wait for the results of my glucose test. Then they had to contact home care and see if they could take me on as a patient twice a week (they just come in and assess my and Gunther III's vitals). Then the charge nurse took her lunch break. So at 8:00, I finally got discharged.

I'm at home now. I spent these past days enjoying the fact that I could sleep without someone coming by and waking me up. Or that I didn't have to try to sleep through other people snoring (after all these years, I'm used to Gunther's tone of snoring and I sleep right through it), talking, or their inductions (which was what was going on the last few days, how bloody wonderful is that to be happening in the high risk ward?). I still feel tired and run down, but that's partially because I can't get up and move to wake myself up. My doctor wants me to either sit or lie down for the most part. I can stand and walk minimally. Like going to the bathroom, grabbing myself something to drink, or to go from one part of the house to another to sit. I may have not been the most energetic and active girl in the world, but this is annoying. Mind you, it's not worth the risk just to go for a walk. Not to mention that all this not moving around is already weakening the legs. I've spent the past week in a wheelchair at the hospital (the only way they'd approve of me getting around) or in bed. And Thursday, it was obvious I was losing muscle tone in my legs. When I got up, it took me three times as long to get 5 feet away. I was walking like someone with bad osteoperosis.

So far, things are good. Just got to take it one day at a time, and hope like hell I make it to September. My doctor is taking it as "small goals" as he put it. Strive right now for 28 weeks. 28 weeks gets past a certain number of problems if he's born. After that, strive for 30. Then 32. Then 34... Every 2 weeks longer brings him closer to being born with no issues. Although I would prefer him to be term, striving for a 2 week point past my current situation doesn't seem as hard. Things are still touch and go, but he's gone further than Menerva Jr. did... I guess that's saying something.

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

2007-06-04T15:52:00.000-06:00

At home again, for a few hours. At least they're letting me get out every now and then, cause I'm moments from plastering a few of them with boot prints. What has happened in the last few days??? Well, just a great realization of what kind of bullshit I should have come to expect from the medical community.

I had a fairly in depth conversation prior to being admitted to the hospital with the doctor who signed up the orders. I said I wanted to be assessed after the steriod shots would have taken affect to see if things are staying stable, because I can't afford, financially or emotionally, to be in the hospital for an extended period of time unless it was damned well necessary. And I told her my opinion and history of bedrest, and she agreed that I would be sent for an ultrasound on Saturday to ensure things are still where they were. So Saturday, I inquired as to when I would be sent for that test. "Whenever they call you down, and that's only if they figure its worth it." Excuse me? Who's "they"? The ultrasound technicians, who have no medical say in things??? Saturday came and went. Sunday came and went... And I found out that I was never even penciled in for an ultrasound, save for the one scheduled for me on Thursday (which was scheduled months ago).

Then there was the phone call to my OBGYN, who unfortunantly I'm currently not under the official care of while in this hospital. However, because he is my doctor and the one I'm currently under has no authority over him unless there is an emergency, if he says "Send her home", then I go home. Providing that when he calls me they let me know before his practice has been shut down for an hour! And part of the message he left, that I didn't find out about until I called his office this morning? That he wasn't going to be in today. So I'm going out and throwing some more money on my fucking VISA today and buying a cell phone. There's no bloody phone service in the ward I'm in! I can't get a phone there, but I can bring a cell. So that's fucking it, I'm getting one.

Still not a fucking test or assessment or even a minor check to see if things are changing. They ask me the typical questions. "Any cramping, contractions, leaking fluids?" No, no, no. But do they ask anything else? "Have your stress levels increased or decreased since being admitted? How would you rate the empathy or compassion of any of the health care workers you have encountered during your stay? Do you feel your questions and concerns are being addressed?" Increased 10 fold, poor and not in the bloody least.

I think what angers me the most is that if I'm so fucking high risk, then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!!! Making me stay away from my family, worry about reneging on my mortgage, and prodding me in the middle of the night to ask me how I'm doing isn't going to help at all. I'm not stupid. I know my options, I know what to do in the event something goes wrong, I'm not intending to come home and spend the next however long doing jumping jacks and straight leg lunges while carrying a load of 50 pounds on my back. I intend on working while sitting at my desk (which is acceptable according to the doctors), sleeping in my comfortable bed (which doesn't make me sweat the moment I lie down as it's not one of those stinking rubber covered hopsital jobbies), and doing as little as possible. And I'm bloody lucky that Gunther is the kind of man he is because no one could ask for better right now. If he needed to, that man would carry me from my chair to the bed, all of 2 steps in its current setup. I live 5 minutes away from a hospital that would be able to rush me back to the RAH if necessary, and has already agreed that if they see me pop into the emergency room, they'd be doing just that for me. I live the same distance away from my OBGYN and my family doctor, both of whom know my history and have been extremely helpful. And I've got a good network here of people who are all willing and able to help if necessary. I wouldn't be homesick. I wouldn't be sad when Gunther Jr. says "Mommy, I want you to come home. I miss you." I wouldn't be fretting about how I'm going to pay my mortgage. I would be able to sleep without staring at the celing for hours until the twit in the bed next to me stopped snoring. Or being woken up by babies crying because they're so full up in the L&D ward that they've been rooming new mothers in the high risk ward... SMART fucking idea, like I need that. And I wouldn't be spending hours sitting in a wheelchair on the sidewalk by the edge of the properity because I just can't stand being surrounded by people. I am a social creature, yes, but damnit, I want to be alone right now. Phone conversations, email, maybe a visit, sure, but right now? All I want to do is curl up in my bed with my husband and my son and watch them sleep.

Tomorrow the shit's going to hit the fan... This morning I didn't get the chance, but if I have to stay up all night tonight in order to prepare then I will. Give me a good fucking reason to keep me or send me home.

Not Again

2007-06-02T19:40:00.000-06:00

Thursday was another one of my "routine" weekly ultrasounds to ensure that the escape hatch was still closed shut. This time, I brought Gunther along. I wanted him to see how things were progressing, but I had this feeling that I was going to need him for more than just that. And how right I was.

1.4 cm. Again. Not horribly surprised... My cervix had been getting shorter over the weeks that I've been going in. 4.25 to 4 to 3 to 2.5 and now to 1.4... So they admitted me into the damned hospital again to "monitor" me until at least today, preferably until Thursday.

You know what? I'm beginning to get really fucking pissed off with the medical profession, beyond last time. Probably doesn't help that my opinion of the lot of them still stood where it did in November of 2005. But let's see... I'm considered "high risk" due to this. But oddly enough, not high enough risk to be monitored in any way, shape or form. The only thing that has been done since Thursday that has been (or could possibly be) of any use is two shots of steroids to help develop Gunther III's lungs in the event he is born early. That's it. Any medications? No. Have they checked out my cervix? No. All they've done is provide me with crap hospital food, an uncomfortable bed in a room that's too warm, and excuses about why they're delaying everything from getting calls from my OBGYN to answers as to why I don't qualify for a circlage.

I managed to get an "evening" pass. Meaning, I'm at home at the moment, but I have to go back tonight. However, if they think they're doing me a favor by keeping me there, they're horribly mistaken. Due to how things are, I've been more mobile in the past few days than I would be at home. I can work from home with no troubles, which would be really fucking helpful since my health care won't cover much of a short term leave. My neighbours have already been quite helpful in watching Gunther Jr. while Gunther has come out to see me or had to do work late. And everything I could possibly want or need to do is in much closer proximity in my home than it would ever be in a hospital room. So unless they're planning on doing more than what they have been (which is pretty much next to nothing), then I want out.

Not again... At least I'm at 25 weeks at this point... Menerva Jr. was born at 24 weeks 6 days. So I'm at least 1 day past that and with no sign of the exit route opening just yet. If history repeats itself, I've got another 2 weeks before I meet him, since that was how long from diagnosis to delivery it was for me to meet my daughter. And I'm bloody well hoping that he stays in there until at least 32 weeks, minimum. Still, every day longer is a step ahead of what his sister had.

Yeah, so much for having faith, eh? I ain't defeated yet. I'm extremely greatful for the antidepressants I'm on at the moment, let me tell you. But you know what? It's hard right now not to feel like I know how the story is going to progress.

Stuck between a rock (Sudbury) and a flat place (Edmonton)

2007-05-23T17:25:00.000-06:00

So, my Mom and sister landed in Ontario yesterday from a week long visit here. Wasn't long enough, but it's better than not seeing them at all. And as usual, things were good and bad. Gunther Jr. was absolutely smitten with his Auntie K who would play cars with him in the dirt, and loved sharing popcorn and a movie with his Gran. And that was good. Then there was the manditory visit with my Dad's side of the family. Just because it's been 6 years (this past Friday to boot) doesn't mean we get to write that lot off. While I've been able to manage to grin and bear it for the past 2.5 years living here, my Mom and sister are quite happy with the fact that they don't have to put up with them... So joy of all bloody fucking joys, I got to put up with silent, cranky family members after a trip we did our best to cut shorter than the 3 hours we did stay. And it's like "breaking the seal" with them. The fact that I popped out of the woodwork and visited, now I'm being invited to everything from barbeques to my cousin's high school graduation (7 grandkids on that side of the family and this guy's the first one aside from me and my sister to graduate high school... I plan on rubbing that into any of them who dare say one thing bad about my Father. At least his genetics weren't warped the next generation down.)

Although Gunther Jr. isn't too happy about his Gran and Auntie K going back home, he keeps asking if we're going to visit them. A little annoying when he asks "Tomorrow?" all the time but at least he wants to see them. I can't help but remember that I didn't want to visit my Dad's Mom too often... It was always sooooooo boring! Sit on the couch, watch TV or read a book (at 3???) and don't move or talk back. Where as at my Mom's parents' place, my Grandma would give us cookies and my Grandpa would sneak us seconds at dessert. They had a park nearby and would walk us there. (There was one in the back of my Dad's Mom's apartment building, but do you think anyone would let us go there??? Nooooo.) And my Mom's parents actually talked to us. You know, "How are you liking school?" and "What's your dolly's name?" and stuff like that, things that a kid enjoyed talking about. All stuff the other one knew was through asking my Mom or Dad, and even though my sister and I answered her, she'd just ask them...

But I digress... The point? I'm just happy to see that it seems that Gunther Jr. is enjoying his family like I enjoyed mine when I was his age. Unfortunantly he doesn't have my Mom's parents for Great Grandparents... He got the chance to meet them both, but they've since passed away and he was too young to remember them. And don't get me started on how he never got to meet my Dad. Gosh, he would have loved his Gramps. But where I'm going with this is that here I am, in Edmonton, pretty much a world away from the family we love in Ontario. I traded family for fiancial stability. And while I wouldn't fault anyone for doing the same as I, I can't help but feel somewhat guilty for doing it myself.

I can't say I haven't given some thought to moving back as of late. With the housing boom out here, I can easily sell my house for double what I bought it for, if not more. Why not sell the house off, pay off the debts we have, use the remaining profit to put a huge down payment on a house in Sudbury (which for the same price, would be bigger), and live on one income? And that fills me with happy thoughts that are too clouded with dust of 3 years since I lived there. Until the breeze picks up and clears that dust for a moment and I realize that it's a bad idea.

Sure, there's family. I have my Mom, my sister, Gunther's Dad and Stepmom, all his aunts, uncles and cousins, and the only "aunt and uncle" (read = cousins that are more important to me than my real aunts and uncles) B and J. Then there's "Unkie" Paul and "Auntie" Joanne, Gunther's childhood friend and his fiance, who Gunther Jr. loves to visit when we're in the area. But really? No offence, but I left two people behind - my Mom and my sister. My Grandparents are dead (as much as their deaths should have never happened, long story). B and J are wonderful and amazing, but I talked to them more often than I visited. Skye lived in BC before I moved out here, and then 2+ hours outside of Sudbury after I left. Gwen lived 4+ hours away. Ashton and I worked different shifts... Love them all, but we all talked via email more often than in person anyways. And as for the rest of the population who bothered to keep me company at any time prior to me getting pregnant with G. Jr., they avoided me like the plague after they realized I was a "breeder". Out here? Well, I've got my Dad's family... Not like that's something I like to admit to in public but at least there's a lot of them, they're close by, and if I needed anything I could probably count on them to provide some assistance. There's my neighbours' D and C, and G. Jr. just loves their kids and C, who every now and then brings home his bobcat from work. Mikey, my co-conspiritor when I was working for the other company. Laurie, my scrapbooking pal. Gunther's friend Vern. So, more friends, less family (even if that side does outnumber my Mom's in quantity, I'm talking quality).

And then there's the job situation. If I were to lose my job tomorrow, I could find another job in 10 minutes. Would it pay as much? No. But lets face it, any money is better than none when you're unemployed. And that's something I couldn't get in Sudbury. If Gunther or I lost a job in Sudbury, we'd be screwed. And what if it gets bad there again? We could never afford to live out here in Edmonton now. We bought our house in the nick of time before the prices skyrocketed. Even apartments here are insanely priced.

Plus, lets face it. Sudbury's decrepit. Old, dirty, crumbling... Outside of the city there is natural beauty in the lakes and trees, but within the city limits it's rather ugly. The city began its downward spiral in the 70's and it looks like the place just stopped right there in that decade, regardless of whatever "rejuvination" has been done to the main areas. Plus, as much as I'd like to be closer to my family, they never visited much either. It was us who treked our asses over to their place, hardly the other way around.

Do I still want to go back? Yeah. And if it was worth the risk, I'd be packing right now. Doesn't help that my Mom and sister are back in Ontario and I would have much prefered them to still be here. And it also doesn't help that its bloody freezing here while its perfect swimming (in a LAKE!) tempreture out there. Mind you, I'm sure this desire of mine will die off when I'm out there next and become reminded why I left in the first place.

Saxamaphone!

2007-05-08T19:54:00.000-06:00

My last semester of high school was filled with courses I needed in order to get the few credits I required to graduate. So, “bird courses”. Something a bird brain could pass. For me, that was teaching Communication Technology, doing an art class, and music for fun. I started off the class playing the drums, but soon learned that I have no internal mechanism with which to keep a beat. That and there were two others looking to play, so I would have had to share. So I switched to the tenor saxophone, partially because my music teacher Ms. Hogan said she needed more people in the baseline for the class, and partially cause I’ve always wanted to play the sax.

And wouldn’t you know it? Me, who had never bothered to learn an instrument (save for a brief stint trying the trombone in grade school, until I realized my arms were too short to play it), find out in the last semester in high school that I was damned good at the sax. Especially considering I’m bloody tone deaf (I can mimic, but don’t ask me what key that was) and I can’t read sheet music (I had my own notation for it which I could understand).

Well, that was 10 years ago. And perhaps it’s the hormonal state of which I’m living at the current moment, but I’ve been rather nostalgic as of late. Miss home, miss spending weekends at my Mom’s place, going on this kick of music from my youth (Duran Duran, Men At Work, Quarterflash, Jethro Tull, etc.) And it was probably not the best of ideas for me to go searching for Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty. But damn it, I got this sudden urge to play a sax again. The rift from that song was one I always wanted to learn to play.

It was the next morning that, for shits and giggles, I decided to look on eBay to see what was there for tenor saxophones. I was expecting a load of them, well out of my price range. The average brand new tenor costs about $2,500. Like I got that kind of cash lying about. And sure, I found a bunch of those. Mostly Yamahas, what I played in high school. And then I see one with a buyout of $215 US. Intrigued, I check it out. And there’s a huge bankruptcy sale going on! Shit! Hundreds of tenor’s on sale for like $300 and change Canadian!

So, in a few weeks, I’ll be the proud owner of a red lacquered (like you couldn’t have guessed that :D ) tenor sax. And I’m sure Gunther and Gunther Jr. will shortly thereafter be proud owners of ear plugs. And I of an insulated, sound proofed basement :D. But damn, like I could turn that price down! Sure, it’s not a Yammie. I would have much preferred one, since I know the quality of their instruments. But I’m not that bloody good to be that picky about my instrument. If one of these days it turns out I can make some scratch playing, then sure, I’ll save up and get one, but until then, my $300 saxamaphone will make me happy and my family deaf.

Maybe I’ll start my own ska band.

Arrg

2007-05-06T10:55:00.000-06:00

So, my bane of being pregnant – shopping for clothes. The stuff I have was for winter pregnancies, and let’s face it, even at -40 your average pregnant woman would like to cover up even if she’s warm. So I have sweaters, long sleeved shirts and thick pants. Not good for the summer months.

The only two choices that I really have are Thyme Maternity or Motherhood Maternity. Not doing the Old Navy route (their stuff is so cheaply made, it’ll be a shock if it lasts a week), and the stuff in department stores is absolutely hideous. You will not see me even in my house in a lavender moomoo with bows on it.

So, the other day I went off to Thyme Maternity, since it was right beside the Sony Store and they were having this event where kids could get their picture taken with some guy dressed as Spiderman (Gunther Jr. was absolutely thrilled.) And at least I walked out of there with a few shirts, more because I was desperate for something to cover my ever expanding belly. They didn’t have anything that really jumped out to me and shouted “BUY ME!”, except for one shirt. Long, tunic style shirt, that’s lopsided in the front… Doesn’t seem to matter how I rearrange the front, my right boob keeps wanting to show off more of its fleshy goodness than the left. Figures… Eh, I’ll take a seam ripper to it when I’m done, pull a pattern, and custom make myself a few later with that problem fixed. But of course, I said the same thing about two other shirts I have, and have yet to even find the seam ripper. Oh well, I can just wait until K comes to visit and get her to do it :)

Then there’s Motherhood Maternity. They should change the name to Hoochymama Maternity. And with that explanation, you can guess correctly that I found nothing there.

And what is it with maternity underwear? I’m one of those women who like the full belly pants. Low rise is alright for this stage, but when I’m as tall lying down as I am standing up, nothing feels better than that whole big elastic panel holding things. So, all my jeans are that style, not this new fangled “low rise” style where you’re lucky if the playground isn’t exposed to the elements or you’re not sporting a second form of cleavage. And so, it was natural that when I got underwear, I got the full belly kind. Sure, they look like granny panties, but I figure I don’t have to play sexy for Gunther, as he already seemed to think that a number of months prior ;) Now, all they have are low rise and thong underwear.

Let me tell you my opinion of thong underwear. Aside from the fact that when I’m out shopping with my underwear purchasing sister, I like to tease her that “Hey, look! Underwear, 2/3rds off!”, I have never had luck with the buggering things. Either the back part is way too short, the middle is way too thin, or they’re made out of a material that chafes like hell. So, I don’t bother. I’m a lover of the “boy short” style underwear myself. Good coverage, low on the wedgie scale, and comfortable. And when I’m having fun trying to get in and out of sitting and lying positions, like I want underwear that rides up. But no one seems to carry the good ol’ granny style anymore. At this rate, I’m contemplating going commando for the last few months.

You’d think by now I’d know that I dislike the average clothing store. If I was any good at it, I’d design my own stuff, and market it to the world of women pissed off with the choices of outlets and shops across the country. Hey! Look! Underwear that cover your ass! Shirts that don’t show off every extra pound you’re carrying! Pants that don’t need to be hiked up every 5 minutes! Maybe I should change careers :D

Bout time something went right.

2007-05-02T19:23:00.000-06:00

20 weeks. The halfway point. And so far, so good.

This past Friday, I had my first appointment with my new OBGYN. A short Irish man who is very disarming and a close talker (you almost feel like he's going to give you a hug). And rather interesting. Complimented me on my Doc's. Was impressed with Menerva Jr's name (her name is that of a Celtic Goddess). And was adamint that I was NOT going to go through the same bullshit I did when pregnant with her. He set me up with appointments with specialists, has got me on a 2 week rotation of visits now with a note to his schedulers that if I call with an emergency appointment, I get in, ran a number of tests on me to determine if there were any outstanding problems at the moment, etc. So, it's a wonderful change. Him, coupled with my family doctor, I'm actually much more comfortable and calm than I thought I would be. Do I trust everything? No, and they both are aware of that. But so far, they haven't given me reason to doubt their judgement.

Had a big scare on Sunday though... (TMI and icky stuff proceeding for the next few lines. You've been warned.) I went to the bathroom late that morning, and noticed a big glob of bright red mucus staring back at me when I sat down. Blood + mucus = cervical effacement in most cases. And let's face it, I'm only 4 and a half weeks shy of what happened with my last pregnancy. So off to the GNH I ran, went through emergency and was immediately sent up to the L&D ward to be monitored by the doctors and nurses up there.

The GNH was the first place I went to with Menerva Jr. It's close to where I live, and so a natural choice, but they were very nice when I was there the last time... And they were this time too, even telling me that if I so much as think something's up, head right back and they'll do everything they can. Turns out that whatever happened was just a freak thing. The "escape route" (as my Mom likes to call it) was still closed up, and they figured it was just a delayed reaction to the internal exam I had that past Friday. But not once did they make me feel like I was overreacting or being silly. That's good, cause every time I went to the doctor I was seeing when I was pregnant with M Jr, that's what they made me feel like... And look where that got me?

Then this past Monday, I had my routine halfway ultrasound with a stipulation that they check and double check cervical length. And that was the first thing the woman did - over 4 cm. Perfect. And then the bun. Everything's measuring spot on, all development is 100% normal. Got to see all the fingers and toes (saves me from counting them later), and the defining point... It's a boy.

Another boy. Am I disapointed? Not really. I kinda had a feeling I was carrying a Gunther the III instead of a Menerva the III. I was not so secretly hoping for a girl. But you know what? He's healthy, he's growing and active, and it looks like he'll be staying put for another 20 weeks. So that's the thing I'm most happy about. Gender is inconsiquential. I had a 50% chance, right?

So, a boy... Already got a name picked out (email me if you want to know), and now I feel comfortable enough to go out and get those things I don't have from Gunther Jr's infancy anymore. I have a box full of baby clothes that's sitting in K's basement, but it's not worth getting her to ship it out here.

20 more weeks to go. And so far, all's good. I'm liking the change.

New Favorite Quote

2007-04-28T01:12:00.000-06:00

...aside from a handful of ones from the Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, of course :)

From "The Island"

Lincoln Six-Echo: What's "God"?
McCord: Well, you know, when you want something really bad and you close your eyes and you wish for it? God's the guy that ignores you.

The Downside of Being the Software Guru of the Edmonton Office

2007-04-26T19:00:00.000-06:00

It was my background in software deployment and troubleshooting OS issues that made me the perfect pick for this new position. The guy I report to now is just as good as the one I reported to when I was working out of the Edmonton office. In fact, I've known this guy for a lot longer. And he's in my WoW guild on Bronzebeard :) But still, there are so many things to get past...

I haven't come home and cried since Monday, which may be a positive thing depending on who you ask. I also haven't been to the 5th floor of the Active Treatment Center. Or the 4th floor of the Women's Center, another place that would trigger the tears too (Labour and Delivery ward). But today was just as depressing.

Since the batch of systems I was to image appeared to all have bad network cards in them, I was kind of stuck in the morning with not a lot to keep me busy. So that's when my team leader thought it would be a good idea for me to shadow that geek again, and deploy a few systems in some department (I can't remember what he called it, all he warned me of was that I was going to have to put on scrubs to be there). So off I went again, following the cart-pushing dork to the bowels of the hospital.

Little to my knowledge before hand, there's a whole set of underground cooridors benieth the 3 buildings to this place. A winding maze of concrete walls, sloped floors and insulated pipes. It's the easiest way to bring equipment between the buildings, and I'm guessing perfect in the winter when you don't feel like freezing your ass off to go from one building to another. But still, it feels dismal. Artifical light, no windows, the temprature changing drastically from one cooridor to the next, and the smell stale. And then we get to this huge room with secured access. The first thing I had to do upon entering was put on a hospital scrub gown overtop of my outfit, and one of those big, baggy blue hair nets on my head. The room started off as a series of rows of large metal box carts, each being filled with gear necessary for the care of patients in the hospital. Sterile water humidification attachments for oxygen masks, bed pans, bandage changing equipment, etc. Rows and rows of this stuff. In another section, huge spray booths for disenfecting carts which carried used equipment. Further down, huge industrial sized washing machine type units with big spin wheel closures, looking more like a missle launcher in a submarine than a washing machine. Another part was hand sterilization of smaller equipment, such as forceps and those nasty duck billed doohickies all women know and loathe cause they pinch and are way too bloody cold. And then, the section I stood by for the longest period of time while hooking up one of the systems. Rows and rows of huge baker's racks with labled bins of plastic and paper sealed equipment. In there I found countless things I've never seen. This weird looking thing that was about 2 feet long and looked like a drill chuck attached to the end of a stiff plastic cord. This odd type of circular net attached to a 1 foot pole, with what looked to be a handle that would allow for the closure of the top of the net at the other end. And then there was the stuff I did reconize. Intubator tubes for neonatal machine assistat breathing. The teeny tiny little circle patch things they use for premies to read their vitals. Packaged lengths of IV tubing. The list goes on.

Wasn't nice. But a little less connected to the sadness than my expierences on Monday. Those were just items, items LIKE the ones they used, but not the exact ones. Still, and maybe it's just me, but looking at that stuff I can't help but think that for the most part, this place was equipped to assist in the horrible parts of people's lives. Not a whole ton of people go to the hospital with a smile on their face. Most go in because of an accident, a problem, pain, whatnot. And while the goal is to fix things before they leave, it's that time inbetween that they're preairing for.

Negative spin, I know. That's just how I see this stuff. And to me, the RAH is home to some of the most horrible events I have ever had the misfortune of living through. Menerva Jr.'s life was the only joy amongst all that pain and sorrow, and yet, all I can do is associate the negative portions of it all to that place. The joy of seeing her face, watching her move, feeling her heartbeat steady when I held her... All of those things I can remember without linking them to that place. I can link them to me and her. But everything else just festers in that place.

After my Dad passed away, my Mom went to college to become a Nurse. I have to give her credit - I could never do her job. However, her teachers were horrible. During the latter half of her course, they were to spend a number of days a week on site at a hospital, doing the rounds of a regular nurse, with the assistance and guidance of the nurses on staff. The teachers of her course had already driven out a number of students from the course via their predjudice of some, and trying their best to find the akilie's heel of the others. And one of the teachers thought she found my Mom's. While every other student went on 3 week rounds of different departments, my Mom was stuck on 4 months straight of working on the 4th floor of the Laurentian Hospital - the palative care unit. Where my Dad passed away, not even a year ago. And to make it even more horrible, this same teacher ensured my Mom was only paired up with patients that had soon-to-be fatal problems.

She made it. I still remember her coming home and doing just what I did last Monday. And who can blame her? But she made it because she was not going to break, not in front of the bitch who was trying her damndest to get her to. Although no one's forcing me to be there, I kind of feel the same way... Like I've got no choice. It's either that or quit, and let's face it. If I could afford to do so, dontcha think I would have?

*Sigh* I am a strong woman. Just like my Mom. If not stronger in some areas (just ask her, she'll agree). But damn, it's trying right now.

Looking For My Escape Route

2007-04-24T20:36:00.000-06:00

I should have known that everything was too good to be true. My job as Work Center Coordinator was no where near as stressful as was my job as a Technical Trainer. The person I reported to was helpful, not a useless twit. There was the opportunity to work from home via secure remote access which I had already set up. I was finally getting into my groove. And yet, I should have realized that it all would get trashed, given my employer's past history.

No, I'm still employed by them. And still making the same money. But now instead of scheduling on site visits for servers, plotters, printers and computer systems, I'm imaging and deploying computers for Capital Health.

One could say that there would be less stress involved in sitting on your ass and imaging a computer (a job that takes about an hour), then wheeling it on a cart to someone's office and installing it than it would be trying to meet SLA's and organize the day of 10 people. And yeah, normally you'd be right. But the downside of this whole thing is that I'm now working out of RAH. The hospital I spent 3 of the worst weeks of my life at.

You know what? I thought I could turn it off. And it worked in some instances. I shut my brain off when I walked past the spot I parked in most of the time when I went to visit Menerva Jr. Turned it off again as I got into the glass elevators in the Active Treatement Center. Did it again when walking through the Woman's Center pedway between two buildings.

I'm shadowing one of your typical young geek males. Bad hair, can't dress himself, has the social capabilities of a doorknob. His only redeeming quality (and that's only cause I'm a geek myself) is that his cell's ring tone is the Doctor Who theme song. But still, Monday was my first day. (I took today off because of doctor's appointments, and am glad for it.) And so, being egar to figure things out (and getting thoroughally pissed off at the inability of this geek to train anyone, however biased my ex-trainer self is), I didn't pay attention to a key set of words when he asked if I wanted to tag along for a system deploy at the Bear Lounge. I said sure, and followed along.

The Information Systems department is located at one end of the properity. And where we had to go was all the way at the other end, in the Active Treatment Center. And as we walked there, in my head all I was thinking was "don't go to that building, don't go to that building." And then, "shit, we're in that building." Get in the glass elevators. "Don't get off on the 5th floor, don't go to the 5th floor."

"Shit. Alright then, go straight, gooooooo straight."

"Shit!"

5th floor of the Active Treatment Center is the Neonatial Intensive Care Unit, among other units, but takes up the grand majority of the floor space. And then it hit me. Bear Lounge... One of the radio stations out here, The Bear, has sponsored a family room just outside of the NICU. I spent a lot of time in that room...

So when the guy I was shadowing pondered aloud where was this place, I pointed over my shoulder to the room beside the vending machine. Inside we went, and I couldn't hold it. And it didn't help that inside that room, I met up with a girl I knew from Dell, who was there because she had just given birth to her son that Saturday at 30 weeks. The tears came... I managed to stop them in a few moments, but the seal was broken.

When I got home, the first thing I did was go up to bed, curl up, and bawled. So I can't turn it off... I was naive to think I could. And while I could probably desensitize myself to the surroundings, I don't know if I really want to deal with this right now. Being pregnant as is is bringing enough painful memories of losing Menerva Jr, like I need to be reminded of it further.

Mad World

2007-04-22T10:33:00.000-06:00

Profile of this blogger:

Social Life:

I was a loner throughout school.
I was picked on and teased horribly throughout grade school, and ignored completely in high school.
I had few friends. To this day, I still don't have a huge social circle.

Violence:

I played violent video games as early as the age of 7. I still play violent video games.
I watched a number of violent movies and TV shows from my youth to present day.
I beat up my sister on a fairly regular basis as a child.
I got beat up in grade school, and fought right back.

Subculture:

I was a goth in high school.
I listened to Marilyn Manson. Still do.
I did drugs as a teenager.
I was/am a computer geek.
I was a Wiccan. Still follow much of it today.

Weapons Access:

I knew where my Dad kept his hunting rifles and the bullets for them.
At 16, I could purchase large knives from various stores. And I had, either as decoration or in the case of one I got Gunther, for hiking.
I own a number of swords, knives, daggers, etc.
I know where I can buy firearms, and have the room on my visa for them.

Well damn, by this account, I should be high on the list to kill loads of people!

When will society learn that you can't label people based on what color clothes they wear, what music they listen to, etc? If such is the case, I know more people who would be potential mass murderers than not. Such categorization is just an attempt to turn the world into a bastardisied version of The Minority Report. Put the "problem kids" away before they commit a crime. Quasi-scientific precogs.

But the Virginia Tech shootings can't be marked as the crimes committed by a guy who got picked on in school. Very rarely can one thing in a person's life affect them so greatly. In my opinion, the ball was dropped a million of times by loads of people who honestly, deserve no blame in the make up of this guy and the events which lead to the murders this past Monday. The blame lies squarely on Cho, and even I can't say he's 100% to blame either.

Let me explain.

Life sucks, we all know that. Certain events or circumstances in our past shape us into who we are today. It's like all those sci-fi books and movies that go on about how changing one minute in the past can greatly affect the future. Every nasty part of my youth - getting picked on, abusive boyfriends, mistreatment by friends, etc. - has made me who I am now, both positive and negative. This in turn will affect how I raise my children. This in turn, as well as life experiences, will affect how they raise their own children. And so on down the line.

However, there are events in everyone's past that affect them negatively. I have very limited trust in people, even family, thanks to events that have happened. The deaths of my Father and Menerva Jr. have given me a great mistrust in the medical community. Past employment has proven to me (even if it is a cruel realization) that hard work means nothing and asskissing is everything. I've learned that the only constant in your life is yourself and your kids, everyone else can be left behind if it means survival. And yeah, this isn't nice. For these reasons and more I've been told I'm a horrible person and you know what? That just goes to prove even further to me that people in general can't be trusted. That event reinforces my truth.

We all have our own personal truths. Things that to us cannot be disproven. Things that have been proven to us over the course of our lives. For example, it's a proven truth to me that my Mother loves me. It is a proven truth that my Dad loved me while he was alive. It's a proven truth that the sky is blue. That I hate raisins. That my current neighbors are insane. Etc. But it is also a proven truth to me that the human race is flawed, and many will never admit it. This is where one of my truths lie - that no one understands humanity.

This is where the current state of mental illness and its horrible and inaccurate diagnosis comes into play. Let's take Post Partum Depression as an example, shall we? It appears to be a widely held belief that new Mothers should be the happiest people on earth. They've got a brand new baby, someone they've been waiting 9 months to meet, and that their lives are complete by caring for them. Yet people will instantly downplay any sign of PPD, saying it's just an adjustment thing, or that something must be horribly wrong with the Mother if she's not completely ecstatic. Aside from the joys of meeting that person who's been kicking you and making you crave olives and peanut butter, let's look at what happens to a Mother and her life when a baby is born.

Hormones change drastically.
Recovery from delivery be it vaginal or c-section.
Insufficient sleep.
Many times, multiple doctors’ visits for any complications after giving birth or any ailment the child may have.
Many times, the support network the woman had prior to becoming pregnant leaves. And those that remain after giving birth diminish as well.
Advice coming from every direction, solicited and not, and many times given in a fashion that makes it sound like the Mother doesn't know what she's doing.

Add to that if the Mother or child has any condition that could affect their lives, how helpful her partner is (if present or not), financial situations, etc, and yeah, the live of a new Mother isn't not all peaches and cream. Yet numerous people can't fathom why a woman would become depressed, even if the hormone imbalance is not enough of a biological factor for its onset.

And that's just one of the more common beliefs I've run into. Any time there's a mental illness mentioned, it's almost as if people shudder, like the thought of being delusional, bi-polar, schizophrenic, etc, is just too much to bear. But I'd like to think that there are probably more people today with some form of mental illness, be it inherited or developed, than society would like to believe.

And I believe Cho was one of them. Yes, it has already been stated that they believed he had a mental illness. And given the circumstances, they couldn't fully diagnose or treat it. But there you have it. Was it caused by video games? I doubt it. It has about as much of a likelihood as if he was forced to eat peas on a Sunday in November at the age of 4. Yet had he been treated early on, perhaps (and this is just speculation) things would have been completely different, thus changing the entire future.

My point with all of this is that people don't like to talk about, deal with, or admit to any form of mental distress. Most don't even know they have any. I know in my own form (severe depression); I just thought my down and out mood was normal. Seemed almost par for the course. I mean, I lost my Dad when he was very young, my Daughter to something completely preventable had the medical community listened to my requests early on, my cousin to a drunk driver, my Grandmother to suicide, my Mother In Law to a preventable cancer, a friend's Mother to a annorisim, my marriage nearly dissolved in the middle of it, I was living 3000 kilometers away from the family I loved, and caring for a toddler while working full time proved to be stressful. Yeah, I figured the drop of a hat crying was to be expected. That the thoughts of causing harm to myself normal. The desire to spend my day in bed and not face the world common. But at least I realized they weren't normal. Took a while. Thought I could snap out of it if life would quit killing off loved ones and throwing roadblocks in my way. If I could just have a few good, quiet months, I'd be better. Yet that didn't work. And now, on treatment, I'm feeling loads better. I'm one of the lucky ones if you ask me. Because I know loads of people who are in the same funk I was who don't believe anything's wrong and won't hear such words from anyone else.

I think that was Cho's problem. He didn't believe anything was wrong. And no one wanted to admit that there could be a problem. Does that mean he and everyone in his life is to blame? I don't think so...

Because those are their own truths. And society has yet to disprove to the masses that mental illness is not something to be ashamed of.

Boogers

2007-04-09T21:20:00.000-06:00

Tis the season for spring time colds... It started with Gunther Jr. He came home from daycare one day with a runny nose. The next day there was a cough. And then it went from there. More snot, more coughing, and then the realization from him. "I'm sick." All because Daddy didn't want him to go outside without wearing a warm outfit and a coat on. So, he became clingy, mopey, and quiet... That lasted for a day and a half. Now there's still boogers. Still coughing. And he still knows he's sick. But it's more fun to be a rampaging snot monster than a boy who curls up on the couch to watch cartoons and play with his puzzles.

Then, as nature would have it, Gunther got Jr's cold. I swear, that man is the healthiest sick person I know. He takes his vitamins, eats his veggies, and still, if someone sneezes within a 50 mile radius of him, he'll catch whatever's going around. So now both my boys (Gunther isn't overly fond of it when I say that) are sick. At least my husband isn't being a rampaging snot monster...

I guess it's a damned good thing I have a strong stomach. Between the two of them in the past few days alone, I could probably paste wallpaper across the house with the guck they've produced. And there's nothing that tests your gag reflex like a 3 foot toddler with a gooey string of stuff connecting from his nose to the floor.

If anything though, the positive is that now I have an exucse to make a big batch of soup.

Belief vs fact

2007-04-03T21:43:00.000-06:00

If age has given me any trait worth noticing, it's skepticism. I take nothing at face value, and honestly, why would I? What separates fact and opinion in this day and age is beliefs. For example, it has been "proven" that male circumcision can prevent the spread of AIDS, albeit marginally. One would figure that there would be a multitude of alternatives that could be taken instead of lobbing off the male equivalent (even if it's lesser) to the female clitoris. The male foreskin is home to a plethora of nerve endings, protects the head of the penis, and prevents desensitization. People can argue based on cleanliness (since when have guys had a hard time washing their naughty bits?). People can argue based on "moral" reasons (one of the original arguments towards circumcision was to prevent boys from masturbating). People can even argue based on religious reasons (those are just too weird and vast to comment about). But now an Edmonton group is trying to pressure parents of boys to circumcise their kids as to prevent the spread of AIDS, claiming that Canadians today are too uptight to discuss safer sex and that this is the best alternative.

These same Canadians who should circumcise their male children because we're too uptight to discuss safer sex are being told to not vaccinate our girls against HPV because that may teach promiscuity...

My belief? I ain't chopping anything off my son's wiener to provide a slightly lesser chance at him contracting from someone or infecting someone with AIDS. Why? Well, first off, if I find that he ever has unprotected sex outside of a long time monogamous relationship with someone he trusts very much, his foreskin is not all I'll chop off. I am not an uptight parent, if that hasn't been proven in this post alone. Gunther Jr. will be well aware of safer sex options. I will not sit there and blush and tell him that when he's older he'll want to stick his peepee into a girl's woohoo through fits of giggles. But at the same time I will not tell him that just because he knows all about the birds and the bees that he should go out and practice.

And if the bun turns out to be a girl? By all means I will have her vaccinated against HPV. I'm sure this is TMI, but I come from a long line of women who have had "abnormal" cervical cells. I've gone through the bullshit that's involved with having nasty pap smears and skin biopsies and all that painful and embarrassing crap. I may not be able to prevent her from inheriting these "abnormal" cells (I quote them cause they can't find them in advanced tests for me, but for some reason show up on routine pap smears), but if I can prevent her from going through any sort of cervical cancer scare, then by all means, I'll even pay for it out of pocket. She will get the same education as Gunther Jr. will about safer sex. I won't skip her because I don't want to teach her to be permicious. I'll teach her BECAUSE I don't want her to be permicious.

Are we still stuck in a society that believes its fine for males to be aware of their sexuality but shun females from even giving a proper name to their parts? Maybe I'm living outside of this realm. Perhaps because I'm working in a male dominated field, I've become too "male" in that regard. Nah... It's because I hate not being provided information when I want it. I was well aware of the fact that grade school "sex ed" was essentially biology without censorship. There was no education on sex per se. It was all biological. Sperm fertilized eggs, made babies. Sperm came from boys, eggs from girls. But if one were to go based on the education that your average school kid got, they would have no clue how sperm met egg until high school. And still, that would be stuff learned from others in gym class. Penetration was never discussed. The purpose of specific parts were never touched upon. And this is something I argued about in school. Oddly enough, so did a male friend of mine. And he was answered, where as I was labeled a slut.

I would have thought all these years would have changed this... But apparently not. And considering I live in the Canadian equivalent of the Bible Belt (so I guess that makes this the Bible Armpit), I'm not too sure that the education that will be provided to my children will be any more forward thinking than that it was back in the 80's. Guess it's up to me.

At least my kids have a Mom that isn't one of those "typical" Canadians depicted by media who wish to prevent the spread of AIDS via skin removal than education. Or who would prefer my daughter to stay "pure" by not putting the idea in her head that she has free reign to sleep with whoever because she's protected from an STD that affects millions of women, permicious or not.

Here's hoping that my kids don't have the same trouble with their children and society in the future.

Survival and Fatigue

2007-04-02T21:29:00.000-06:00

Today was the first official day of me doing the job that I was hired to do... Did I survive? Yep. Did everyone else? So far. Did I do it flawlessly? BWAHAHAHAHAHA! No. But if they expected perfection day one, particuarly after the piss poor training I recieved, then they're idiots. And lets face it, if anyone in the Edmonton office knows anything about training, its me.

So, the rest of this week should be fun. Note the puddle of sarcasm under that sentence.

In other news, I'm tired as hell. Sure, one can say that's to be expected when pregnant, but damnit, this is excessive. This past Saturday I slept 12 hours (how nice of Gunther to let me sleep in, love him for that), then a few hours later, I took a nap when Gunther Jr. did. And I could have cheerfully slept longer.

When Gunther Jr. was born, my family doctor back in Sudbury thought I was having a bit of a hyperthyroidism problem. I couldn't sleep, I was jittery and tense, and (although I'm not complaining at all) I was losing weight just sitting there. And it appeared to be linked to breastfeeding. The less I breastfed Gunther Jr., the less the symptoms. And when I stopped alltogether, I went to what most would consider a new mother to be like - tired as all heck, iritable at times, and really wanting to sleep whenever she could. And this is the state I've been in for the past three years.

Then, when I was talking to my Mom this weekend, it turns out my sister (we'll call her K, or Auntie K when in reference to her favorite nephew) had just been diagnosed with hypothyroidism. An underactive thyroid... And had the exact same symptoms I'm suffering from, and no pregnancy to blame it on.

So, sometime this week I get to get blood work done to determine if that's a possibility... Yay, more needles stuck in me. Like being pregnant doesn't get me enough of those. While I don't like the idea of taking yet more pills but it would be absolutely wonderful to have this endless fatigue explained.

...and now, off to sleep.

I'm so glad I'm not cleaning that mess

2007-03-31T09:43:00.000-07:00

The things people do.

Only 800?

2007-03-29T19:52:00.000-07:00

Gunther and I decided to sign up for Zip, essentially the Canadian version of Netflix. So, he went in and queued up a few DVD's to ship, then told me to go in and rent what I wanted...

It only took me a few hours to find out that the maximum you can queue up is 800. And it's rather easy to do that when you're renting a number of TV series seasons. Something that's 4 discs is considered 4 seperate rentals. Well, that sucks!

Then I thought about it. Given that we have a maximum we can have out at a time, and the time it takes to ship a disc to us and then back, it would probably take 4 years to see 800 discs anyways.

*Sigh* So much for the M*A*S*H series, or the old Doctor Who's, Xena, Red Dwarf and the Thundercats. And then I thought to myself - I'd be the only one watching it anyways.

...so then I rented it all again :)

The New Job

2007-03-27T20:54:00.000-07:00

While the new job's a cut in pay (kicking myself in the ass for not asking for more when I had the chance), it's loads better than the old one. And this is even still when I have no clue what it is that I'm to do. Due to unforseen problems (such as a time issue thanks to the new daylight savings time and the birth of a child to the guy that was supposed to train me weeks ago), my training got pushed out a few times. Today I got my first taste of the software and processes I'll be working with in order to schedule the lives of 10 technicians covering over 150 km of service area, and more than likely the subcontractors who work outside of it. Do I have any more of an idea as to what it is that I'll be doing from 9 to 5? Barely. But still, even with as little information as I have, this is loads better than the old job.

The money thing is a thorn in my backside though... Should have asked for more. Oh well.

However, its not like it would have taken a lot to improve on the old job, thanks to how badly the department deteriorated in the 2.5 years I was with the old company. For anyone coming across this without any previous knowledge on who I am (or was), I used to work as a Senior Trainer for an international computer company. Sounds like a pretty sweet gig, don't it? Yeah... It was for the first year. But that was when I helped shape the Edmonton site to what it is today and was recruited by the head office to lead any new project, line of business, or phone queue brought in because they knew that out of the group of trainer we had, I was the one who could do it all. When I left, the technicians in the Edmonton office were sad to see me go. So were the higher ups in the head office. The managers in Edmonton? Not so much. Why? Cause I stepped on a lot of toes in order to get things running smoothly for the people who mattered to the company - the technicians. And I didn't kiss any asses to get it done. Didn't sit well with the big wigs that I got by on performance and not politics.

But as things changed in the Edmonton site, and the Training department's merger with the Operations department (which got headed by a woman who was for all intents and purposes an Operations manager and had no fucking clue what Training did), things went downhill. My license to create and modify curriculum as necessary? That was something the head office did, not me, even if it was a part of my job description and a qualification needed to get hired. Then there was the expansion of the whole Operations department, and the subsequent hiring of the Training manager... And then it went to hell in a handbasket.

2 and a half years of finding out what you're doing on Monday come Friday evening was getting to be right fucking annoying. I could never schedule anything, cause the next week I could be working 6 to 3, 3 to midnight, 8 to 5, who knows? I was getting sick of constant delivery... My poor legs and back couldn't take much more of the standing for 8 hours a day while delivering curriculum in an energetic and entertaining enough manner as to keep people awake long enough to grasp the boring and convoluted processes that they needed to learn. I was getting absolutely pissed off with being a part of a department who got blamed for everything (Agents not keeping their call times low? Training's fault. This person doesn't know how to use one obscure tool? Must not have taught it to that one individual, even though the other 30 people in his/her class know how to use it. Etc.) And I was getting really sick of the bitch running the Training department. Never have I met a more self centered heartless twat, and they gave her the power to oversee 20+ people? Yeah, flipping burgers at McDicks would have been a step up.

So yeah, I still don't have much of an idea as to what I'm to be doing, aside from what I've known from the start. I'll be handling the scheduling of just about every service call that comes into the Edmonton office. These guys handle contracts from piddly little Ma and Pa self owned businesses to major government contracts. So far everyone seems to be quite pleased with my presence and willingness to help. Plus, my sick and twisted sense of humor makes me a perfect fit (what did they expect from a woman who's worked in the tech industry for a number of years, and who grew up in a mining town... I doubt a single thing any of them could say would curl my hair). And I'm loving the laid back nature of the place. We play World of Warcraft on our breaks. I've watched a few movies during work (and some TV shows, such as Robot Chicken). Everyone uses their own personal MSN account at the office, so I can keep in touch with family as well as coworkers. I've done a few service calls with some of the techs, even if the one I've gone with the most has been Gunther (yeah, he works there too). Even resolved a few calls myself. Tore apart a Toshiba portable (something I said I would never do again if I could avoid it, but they've got somewhat better over the years). Nearly knitted an entire poncho. Made fun of the team lead to his face and had him laugh... All of this is good if you ask me.

Sure, there are some issues... The company I'm working for is not known for paying their employees well... That's something I've known since working for them 9 years ago (did contract work for them when I was still living in Sudbury). And since Gunther has worked there for the past 6 years, it's not like I'm not aware of that issue either. But as much as the entire group can bitch about that, they're still an amazing bunch. Right there, it's worth it. Sure, these people have their quirks. I think what's making things easier for me is that I've known the grand majority of them since moving out here nearly 3 years ago. So it's not like I have to get to know them all, I already do. Greatly reduces the whole "forming/storming/norming" phase to any team building.

Do they know I'm pregnant yet? That, no, they don't. Good thing I'm chubby enough to hide it. If I was a beanpole, it would probably be slightly noticable at this point, but between being a computer technician (read=not a very active career) and the job Gunther Jr. did on my midsection over 3 years ago, the bun's well hidden until at least May. And at that point, people will probably just think that I've spent too much time on my ass at the new job that things are starting to settle around my waist. And who's going to ask a woman if she's getting fat, particularly when they have to face her husband in the same office? :)

Will they care? I don't think so... The topic has already been brought up that considering I don't need to go on site at any time, that when things get settled and the roll gets more stable, that there would be very few issues with the idea of me working from home if/when necessary. And since there's no way in heck I can afford to live on the Maternity Leave pay for any length of time, I don't forsee myself taking the year off Canadian women are entitled to. Unless someone would like to pay my mortgage for me.

So, it's off to bed to get ready for another day at the office. Hopefully I can level my character up in WoW, providing I don't have to fight anyone else off the system :)

Oh, and learn more about my job. Yeah... That too.

Hello World!

2007-03-26T20:53:00.000-07:00

Please allow me to introduce myself...

The name's Menerva. Is it my real name? No. My real name is shorter, doesn't have any M's in it, and is rather plain unless you look into its origin, but whatever. Menerva's fine. I answer to a number of different names - it all depends on what answer you're looking for.

I am the wife of a great guy, even if he has had a few marks on his past history to prove otherwise at times. And we'll call him Gunther, shall we? It's a nickname he was given by friends ages ago, and well, it stuck. His name, like mine, is shorter, doesn't have a G in it, and is kinda plain unless you go into its origin, but still, Gunther works.

I am a Mother to the world's sweetest, smartest, strongest and most handsome boy. You might say I'm biased, but then you haven't met my son :) We'll call him Gunther Jr. as he's a Daddy's Boy at the age of 3. He can be trying at times, and believe me, I'll bitch at great length about his misbehavings, but still, at the end of the day, he's the biggest cutie-pie. Plus, he gives the best hugs.

I am also the Mother of the most beautiful girl this world had the honor of seeing. Menerva Jr. She was born premature and lived 2 weeks. While many would think that someone who only lived 14 days would have a relatively small impact on the life of anyone else, I beg to differ. She changed me, for better and for worse, in the short time she was here. And regardless of the fact that she's gone, she still impacts my life on a daily basis. I was blessed to at least have had the chance to meet her.

Also, I am the soon to be Mother of another child. No nickname for this one just yet, as I have no clue what gender it is. But M Jr.'s short and tragic life has made me a lot more cautious this time around. Almost to a fault.

Aside from the family part, I'm a Canadian, born and raised in Northern Ontario yet currently living over 3000 km away in Northern Alberta. When you have to choose between living near your parents and extended family, or being able to feed your own, you choose the province with better job opportunities. I gave up the free babysitters and home cooked meals on weekends to live out here... Can't say it's the best trade off in the world, but thanks to the move, Gunther and I have managed to do many things that were mere dreams back home. Like own a house. Or for me to find full time employment that paid enough to live on. Who would have guessed that Northern Ontario is a horrible place for 20-something computer geek females to find work? Scratch that, all of Ontario, and regardless of gender. The market there was horribly saturated. It's better out here, even if only marginally. But still, I can afford to live, and can even plan on my escape from the technology market and go into my first love, which is architecture.

I'm an avid World of Warcraft player. It's my escape from the day. There's nothing better, or more legal, than to take out your daily stresses on poor, defenseless NPC's. Especially on those days when they all look like your boss, from the humans to the hellbors in the Outlands. However, since leaving my old job, I haven't had that many encounters with pigs I called Christina (and no, that's not a nickname). Although I try to stay away from my old office site around lunch time, as to prevent myself from being tempted to drive her flat into the pavement... Which is no easy task. 1) I work and live only 5 minutes away from where I used to be employed, and 2) I only drive a 4 cylinder, so it would take a fair amount of speed or repetition to flatten that lard ass. Is it apparent I hate my old boss? Eh, I have my reasons, but they're too long for this introduction. Besides, since moving to my new job, I don't have to worry about that twit anymore. Plus, I can play World of Warcraft at the office when I'm on break, so I can blow up NPC's when needed, and not let it gather up and fester until I get home.

As for the rest of this introduction, here it is in a nutshell. I enjoy scrapbooking, my favorite beverages are Pepsi and chocolate milk, I'm a sucker for spicy food or a Scottish acient, I do math in Base 2 for fun, I love Brittish television and movies because they usually have more wit and wisdom in their creation than American made productions, yes I have read Harry Potter (the books are good, the movies suck), I wear 8 hole Docs, I have VoIP cause I hate paying for the long distance I normally rack up, I hate Alberta's health care and government cause they do next to nothing for the price you pay for them, I am a disgruntled agnostic, and I'm opinionated as all hell.

Welcome to my blog.

First Post!

2007-03-26T20:18:00.000-07:00

I live. I love. I post.

But later.