a taste of what's to come

Six years ago today, I woke up at about 4:20 AM with mildly uncomfortable and regular contractions. My due date was 2.9.05. My husband had died on 1.1.05 (I had learned of this on 1.2.05), and the preceding month had been a fog of grief, painful moments of clarity, and waiting. I filled my waiting with many things, not least of which were cold walks in the neighborhood I grew up in, accompanied by my mother and sisters. I wore big B's new down jacket, and we all hoped to generate some uterine action so that I would have something else upon which to focus my time and energy. God alone knew the gender of our baby, and while I thought a daughter would be fun, I knew in my heart that it could only be a son.

4:45 AM: When I was quite sure I was in labor - I'd had Braxton-Hicks contractions throughout my pregnancy and they were quite painless to me, though occasionally alarming to my doctor with their frequency and regularity - I shook my finger at the two framed photos above my bed. "You should be here." Both were of big Blake and I, at a good-bye party hosted by dear friends as we neared our move to Los Alamos, New Mexico. Realizing I could be in for a very long day, I pulled my Bible from my nightstand and began to read and pray and cry, all while making sure that my body was centered on the waterproof sheet and towel... just in case my water broke. No sense in ruining a mattress unnecessarily!

6:00 AM: I decided I had been in on the secret long enough, and I woke my parents to announce my contractions.

6:00 AM - 3:00 PM: A flurry of family and friends came by to see us, hug me, touch my stretch-mark-free belly. The contractions got worse. I knew that Mom, my replacement labor and delivery coach, was waiting for four critical words to get me to the hospital: "I can't do this." I waited as long as I could, then dropped the bomb.

3:00-9:00 PM: Waited.
Cried to my mother about how I wanted Blake. She cried back with words I cannot remember and tears and stroked my hair.
Told the nurses my water had broken and they didn't DARE send me home. They didn't believe me. They checked (owie!) and laughed about how I was right (wanted to punch them) and that when the baby was delivered, it would likely be with a gush of fluid that would soak the doctor.
Thought I was at least at 5-7 cm upon arrival. Learned I was 3 cm. Realized that I was in both physical and emotional torment and that I could make one of those two things go away. Asked for an epidural.
Got immediate relief as well as an accompanying drop in heart rate. Asked for gloves because my hands were so cold. Was put on oxygen.
Heard that Reese was weeping in the waiting room because they would not permit her entry (after my doc and I had agreed upon who was to be allowed in, but a whooping cough epidemic made the hospital cranky and careful). Gathered all my persuasiveness and manipulation to make the case that those I wanted there should be there, damn the rules. Welcomed Reese and Matt.
Whimpered as the contractions got stronger. Remembered a friend that wanted to be a fly in the room when I delivered just to hear the creative cursing... and laughed inwardly at my complete and total lack of toughness. Reverted to a five-year-old when in that much pain.

9:00-11:20 PM
Felt the need to push. Remembered that I didn't want to push with my face or chest and hurt myself with popped blood vessels. Held back as I tried my hardest to push in a very localized area. Heard the phone ring during this time as family, believing we had forgotten to call in the rush of a new baby, called to ask if I had delivered yet. Demanded that someone take the damn phone off the hook or better yet, yank it out of the wall.
Pushed for two and a half hours. Decided a popped vessel was worth not having to do this anymore and really bore down.
Saw the look of concern as my doctor quickly whipped four loops of cord from around my baby's neck. Did not hear my baby cry. Desperately asked the nurse just to hold the baby up, I needed to know if it was a boy or a girl. The nurse answered, flustered, "I can't yet, he's peeing on me!" then looked horrified at usurping my desire to announce to the room whether we'd had a son or daughter. Laid back, exhausted: "I don't care that you said it. I have a son. Now make him cry," as they worked feverishly to make sure that my son was okay.
Held my son for a brief moment. Realized I had poop on my hand (not sure whose, but probably his).
Felt quite numb (though not physically!) as they whisked my baby off to the NICU for observation. Trembled violently as the adrenaline coursing through me sought exit through my vibrating limbs.
My family called everyone back with the news. He'd arrived. He was okay but being monitored in the NICU.

His name is Blake Samuel Morstad.

I look back now and am overwhelmed by many things, the first of which is this: my father and brother-in-law were in the room with me when I delivered my firstborn. At the time, it was appropriate and right and what we all wanted (especially the part where they stayed behind my shoulders at all times). Now? Now it makes me want to do this:

But that's not the strongest response. As one friend aptly put it: The days are long, and the years are short.

Tell me about it.

He's cute, but he still needed time to fluff, and pregnancy brought my freckles out in FORCE!

Blakie Sam, you gave me something else to live for at a time I desperately needed it. That's a lot of pressure, but I am confident that you have what it takes. Happy birthday, dear boy.

that's what we said

(while watching Dirty Jobs)
B: That's a mad house... I would not wanna be there.

*****
A: I'm trying to help you.
R: I need you to be gentle. That way I can help you too!
A: WHAT AM I, A WIZARD? Gentle is not who you married!
R: "I'm not a witch, I'm your wife!"
(high fives all around)

*****
A: Blake, why don't you tell Grammie about the things on your tongue that help you taste your food?
B: What things?
A: You know, those little bumps?
B: (turning triumphantly to Grammie Mony) Taste bugs!

*****
B: 'Scuse me, tooted. That was an air toot. It sounded fluffy.

*****
A: My weather app said the low today was -1 even as it showed a current temp of -14. LIAR! In related news, I have decided to learn how to hibernate: gorge, go to sleep fat and warm in winter, wake up skinny in spring.
RO: Most hibernating females give birth during that time, correct?
A: I've made a huge mistake...

*****
(in comments on a video I posted for work over a year ago - the pic he refers to is my profile pic, posted at the end of every article I publish for BPL)
Anonymous: I thought she was going to be goodlookin from her pic but not so much...
A: Yeah, but false lashes and styled hair to float down a river is just silly! Good thing my husband likes me fresh-faced and freckled. He's a keeper.

R: (privately, to me) You start out hot and just keep getting better if you want to. That poor asswipe needs his butt kicked... but we should feel sorry for him. No matter how hard he tries, he'll always be stupid.

*****
A: Uh-oh. Looks like we'll have more cupcakes than we'll know what to do with for Blake's birthday.
R: I'm sure we'll figure something out.

*****
A: Because I love Rob so very much and he loves SCUBA so very much, I tried it. SCUBA and I do not agree, so I'll be happily snorkeling above him while in Hawaii.
J: Last time we were in HI, we tried "Snuba" and it was awesome! The O2 tank floats on a little raft on the surface and you get to "snorkel" about 15-20 feet down.
A: I have done snuba and liked it, so we have a lot of possibilities. Also, I hurt like crazy this morning, which is another strike against SCUBA. Or maybe just swimming. Or probably just getting out of bed.

*****
A: You know what cleans laminate floors REALLY well? Pledge.
You know what makes Pledge-cleaned floors downright deadly and/or hella fun? Wool socks.
L: You would put clean before safety.
A: I would just like to say that ROB did this, and I discovered it when getting home. "A: 'Wow, the house smells really good!' R: 'We mopped!' A: 'Haha! Not with Pledge, right? ... Right?'"
But now I must confess that nothing else I use has worked as well... or been as exciting.

*****
(while watching Planet Earth, and if you see a theme here... YES. We love us some Discovery Channel. The world is just awesome amazing. Only God is awesome.)

Narrator: There once were 30,000 blue whales-
R: (melodramatically) But now there are only three... and two of them don't even like each other.

*****
(after a conflict earlier this week, Rob started to do something I do not like, then abruptly changed to something I welcome from him)
R: Oh, no.
A: What? (kissing him repeatedly)
R: Now you know I listen to you.
A: Yes, but don't worry. I know it only happens with a major increase in volume.

big winner tonight!

Served with jasmine rice (seasoned with rice wine vinegar) and edamame, this was a hit with everyone, including Blake, the I-take-30-minutes-to-eat-2-bites-of-meat kid.

I remember being a slow eater too, but I remember hating vegetables (especially cooked carrots) more than meat. Both my son and I are/were really motivated by a timer and the promise of dessert and/or the threat of losing dessert. As I type this, he has 8 minutes left to finish his last 3 bites. He just shoved all 3 in his mouth.

Atta boy. Ice cream tonight!

Anyway, it was easy, chicken thighs stand up better than breast meat to high-heat grilling and are REALLY tender, and everything was super tasty! We'll be making this again, even though bamboo skewers scare me - I invariably give myself at least 1 splinter.

Japanese Chicken Yakitori

• 1/4 cup plus 2 T soy sauce (I use reduced sodium stuff)
• 1/4 cup plus 2 T mirin (in the Asian food aisle)
• 4 T sake OR substitute rice wine vinegar (I substituted)
• 2 T sugar
• 2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken thighs, trimmed and cut into 1-inch pieces
• 1 bunch scallions (apparently different than green onions, which is what I used, to everyone's satisfaction), sliced into 1-inch lengths, using both white and green parts
• 12 9-inch bamboo skewers, soaked in water for 30 minutes

Whisk 2 T each of the soy sauce, mirin, and sake/rice wine vinegar in a large dish. Add the chicken, toss gently to coat, and refrigerate for 1 hour.

In a small saucepan, combine the remaining 1/4 cup each of the soy sauce and mirin, and 2 T each of the sake/rice wine vinegar and sugar. Bring the mixture to a boil, lower the heat, and let it simmer until the glaze is slightly thickened and glossy, about 15 minutes. (I did this too far ahead, let the glaze cool... and it solidified. Better do it when your hour of marinating is almost up!)

Prepare your grill or heat a grill pan to medium-high. Lightly oil the grates or pan.

Thread 4 chunks of chicken and 3 pieces of scallion onto each skewer, alternating the meat and the vegetable. Discard the marinade.

Grill the skewers until seared on both sides and just cooked through, about 10 minutes, turning every 2 to 3 minutes. During the last 3 minutes of cooking, brush the skewers with the glaze on both sides, turning them often so the glaze doesn't burn (move the skewers to a cooler part of the grill if necessary). Brush the skewers with the glaze a second time in the final minute of cooking. When finished, the chicken and scallions should be deeply glazed. Serves 4.

(side note: using numerals rather than typing out the numbers for this whole post was really hard for me!)

thanks for the good time, girls!

S: So you think she had butt implants?

*****
S: But you have to suck on it for a while, then you can chew it.

*****
S: And Ricky Martin... just thinking about him makes me hot. WOO!

*****
S: I gotta cross my legs!

*****
He just does it SO GOOD!

*****
A: Oops, sorry. I groped you.
S: There's a lot to grope.

*****
S: I can have sex whenever I want.

*****
S: Not SEX, six!

*****
S: The girl just does not want any! The boys always did.
A: Sounds about right.

*****
S: Both A (her husband) and G (her brother-in-law) like PBR. They have bad taste.
A: But not in wives, right?!

*****
L: It's like antibacterial spit.
C: It's like a dog licking its butt.

*****
C: I hate the ones where I have to scoot because I pee a little bit.

*****
A: We're both a dummy.
L: YOU'RE a dummy!

*****
A: It's just like that, but without the armpit sniffing.

*****
K: We're not the crowd that cares about presentation!

*****
S: A little bit of Addie rubbed off on me!

*****
A: Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
B: YOU'RE SCARING ME.

*****
C: Can I leave Rob A ROW?!

*****
A: I got one.
J: You got one Brazilian wax?
A: No, no, one POINT!

*****
A: It's been warming up my thigh.

*****
A: That was a man burp.
L: NOT OKAY.

*****
S: I have a blister on the roof of my mouth, but it popped.

*****
K: Was it you, or me?
A: I'm confident it was me because it was my hand.

i'm on the ragged edge

After over a week of a nasty head cold and weird sleeplessness issues, I find that my judgment is seriously impaired and accompanied by large quantities of used Kleenex for snot and tears... so I'll keep this short.

I got both of these comics (click to enlarge) on the same day, and both made me laugh uproariously for very different reasons.

My job has changed a lot in the last two years, and we're moving me back toward what it was intended to be: managing editor. But it comes with a lot of change, more hours, and I'm finding it hard to get my feet back under me. I have more meetings with my boss, and they often end with him instructing me to brainstorm solutions to the problems/puzzles we've uncovered or started. But the ten-day forecast is not good.

This is for everyone else who is friends with me. The context is about a secret, but it's particularly applicable to me, the girl who simply cannot keep her mouth shut about anything. Ever. I don't WANT to be the friend everyone else has to warn "Please don't put this on the internet," but I'm afraid I'm sliding down that slippery slope. It might even be too late.

in which i overshare again, by putting it on my blog

Once upon a time, Rob and I found ourselves at home one afternoon while Blake was at school. We had fun. I posted a three-word status update to Facebook, carefully blocking the status to all but a close few friends who can handle me, closed my laptop, and went to pick up Blake. I ran a few errands, got home, made and ate dinner, and eventually put Blake to bed, at which point I reopened my laptop.

Somehow, the filter I had so carefully set had not worked. Instead of posting to a handful of women who would shake their head and laugh, THIS was shown to anyone and everyone on my friend list:

"Afternoon delight indeed."

My subsequent comment made it clear that I thought I had kept the display to a precious few people. As I looked at the TWENTY COMMENTS and saw people commenting who should NOT have even seen that post, I turned a lovely shade of red, then grey.

A girlfriend: "If this is what you post to the limited list, maybe I should request to be on your PG-13 list!"
A very close friend: "You know how I feel about TMI - no such thing - way to go!"
That close friend's father: "Why save all the fun for the dark, cold winter nights?"
A not-very-close male friend: "Awesome."
Another-not-very-close and recently divorced male friend: "This made my day, mostly because I am so glad to hear of the fruit of second chances - beautiful expression of marriage!"
My mother's friend: "Now I know why your mom's not on FB, Addie! Don't worry: I'll fill her in!"

I about died. I sputtered. I asked Rob's forgiveness for being so foolish. He took one quick read through everything and burst out laughing. I was confused, convinced he'd be mortified by his wife's idiocy.

"Why would I care that everyone knows I got a little nooky? I think it serves you right FOR PUTTING IT ON FACEBOOK! Oh, that's funny."

A friend from church approached me the following Sunday and confessed that she'd had no idea what it meant until she had read the comments. When I expressed my horrified initial response, she chuckled:

"From anyone else, it would have been shocking, but from you, it's hilarious!"

mice tails

I really really hate rodents. Mice especially, but voles, gophers, prairie dogs, and ground squirrels are all pretty disgusting and low on my list. They are just so DESTRUCTIVE. I have been known to kill them while gardening, in actions that can only look like a partial seizure to those observing from afar.

One night this summer, I went outside and lay on the sidewalk to watch a meteor shower. Rob joined me, and after seeing about a half a dozen, we went back inside. I reached the back door first and saw that Rob had left it open a few inches, and I thought, "That's not ideal," but thought no further.

No further until the next morning, however, when it was clear that something had eaten 'round the perimeter of all the mini-cakes I had set out on the counter. Looking closer, it appeared that same something had dive bombed itself into one of the cakes and dug hard through the frosting, looking for cake treasure. I about lost my mind as I began frantically pulling open drawers and cupboards, looking for (and finding!) more sign that we had a small, furry intruder. My spice drawer was seriously compromised, as was my thickest oven mitt and a lovely apron given me by my sisters as a wedding gift. Everything had to be washed/tossed/sanitized, as it had either chewed through things or crapped a ridiculous quantity thanks to the cake cruising through its system. Oh, and did I mention the condo was still on the market at the time? Super.

As a friend noted, even after trapping the small field mouse in our pantry, "Keep looking. There's never just one." I have no idea how the second died - Rob found its body next to our wastebasket in the master bedroom. It had nested in one of our towels, doing a surprisingly small amount of damage, though I fully expect to find more whenever we pack up and move out.

During Christmas time, I began noticing tiny tracks in the snow, leading from beneath the corner of our porch. And this guy got bolder, running back and forth across the porch to access the birdfeeder round the corner. I was transfixed and torn: "Way to go, little buddy! Way to survive in a tough, long Bozeman winter! Except... I hate you and kind of want to kill you. No rodent close to our home survives long."

I hoped that one of the many many cats around here would catch wind of the little turd and take care of it for me, but no dice. Early this week, I finally set out a few snap traps and one I had borrowed from my father: battery-operated, it actually zaps the mouse. Then it started to snow, heavily enough that by midnight, I had pulled the electric trap inside (didn't want it to short!) and moved two of the snaps so that they didn't get lost in the snow, only to be discovered by a careless hand or foot in the spring.

Upon coming home with Blake after school on Wednesday, I was startled then, to see a dead body near the middle of our back porch. No trap. No sign that it had been a cat-er-mauling. Just a dead vole (a little bigger than a mouse, shorter tail) lying there. I guess the very presence of the traps scared him to death?

It does beg the question: what sort of strange powers do I possess that kills nearby rodents without the use of traps?

Could be this tough guy...

alternating between these two things today

that's what he said

A: How old are you again? No, wait! How old will you be?
B: Um, six. How old are you?
A: Thirty.
B: Oh my word, I'll NEVER catch up!

*****
(We had friends over for dinner, which took a l-o-n-g time to be ready. While we waited, P played Star Wars Legos on the Wii with Blake, thereby making him Blake's favorite person ever that night.)
B: Thank you for saving me, Yoda.
P: Welcome you are.

*****
B: (telling Rob something that neither Rob nor I can remember now)
R: That's crazy!
B: Your FACE is crazy! HAHAHA! I gotcha Dad! I gotcher back! I gotcher back!

*****
A: I think we should get your skis on tomorrow and practice going down a little hill.
B: (gasps) And... is there jumps?!
A: No, you have to get used to the feel of skiing first.
B: AWWW, MAN!

*****
B: Mom, I heard about something called a splitboard when my alarm went off this morning. It's a snowboard that splits and turns into skis! Isn't that awesome?
A: My friend Sam is going to want to talk to you. He's a splitboarder.
B: AWESOME!

*****
A: You know you get to go be with Peter, Kale, and Joel tomorrow.
B: And Mayomi.
A: Nope, Naomi's coming with me.
B: (jumping up and down behind me) YAY! ALL BOYS! ALL BOYS! (walking over and quietly putting one hand on my arm) But don't worry, I still love you and I like being with you too.

*****
A: (thinking he's been brushing his teeth for a very long time) B, are you done yet? Are you ready for bed?
B: A'course not, I'm pooping!

buzz-worthy

For the very few of you who know me from Backpacking Light, I wanted to drop you a hint: good stuff coming up this week in cooking, clothing, packing, and fishing. There will be special pricing. There will be extended sizes. Spread the word!