I'd like a ham sandwich please

This kid already knows when the camera is pointed at him. If it's video he stops immediately whatever cute thing he was doing and just stares straight into the lens. If it's a camera, well, he still just stares right at it. And it eats him up! What is it about kids and technology these days? I'm convinced he's going to be building his first computer before he's five. And do we stop them? Do we inhibit this new evolution of mankind? Is it evolution or just addiction? What is a computer anyway? Or the internet? It wasn't so long ago we existed without these things. And for a very long time too. Now we can't imagine going a day without our smart phones...

Dust Wars

Katherine vs. the dust. I like to think, when I've just cleaned something, that it will stay clean for a long time. And somehow it is disappointing each time. I have the same illusions when I fill up my gas tank or when I've just bagged a lawn's worth of leaves. It seems like I've done such a good job that it'll be that way for good. But oh, the dust. It's not seasonal. It's not dependent on how often I drive. It's forever. And it always wins.

Never-ending battles seem to be my forte lately. Or maybe ironic check payments. Example one: this year I decide to be unnervingly prompt with Frances' rabies tax (um, we pay to get them vaccinated and then have to pay the government for it as well? I've actually gotten a call before saying I'd have law enforcement after me if I didn't pay my cat tax), and, well, he dies that night. As if my cat passing away wasn't hard enough, I'm out an extra ten bucks (let alone the fact that he had an extra expensive well visit two days earlier and they said he looked just great).

And then there's Walt's birth certificate. They got my birth date wrong. On the back it gives instructions on how to make corrections. This includes getting a notary public to witness Dave's and my signatures as well as sending original documents stating my birth date. Since I don't feel particularly good about sending in my drivers license or passport, I thought I would get my birth certificate from my mother. As anyone with a newborn knows, this rigamaroll is the last thing on my to-do list and it takes me a while to accomplish it. However, I decide to call in last minute and ask if I really need to send in my birth certificate or if a copy will do. The guy has the audacity to tell me that since I waited an extra couple of weeks instead of sending it right back in with the typo that they'll have to charge me extra to fix the problem. As in more than it took to get the two copies in the first place. I sent the stuff in without any money attached and a nice post-it note saying I'd like my baby's birth certificate fixed.

If you were worried that was it, you don't have to be.

My OB/Gyn, two-thirds of the way through my pregnancy, decided to start sending my lab work to an out-of-network provider. Even after I told them not to. So I've been calling the OB, the lab, and my insurance to work all this out. A lot. Round and round we go, who will help Katherine with this problem? Finally I talk to a sane person at the insurance company. But they still need to do some investigation. After a couple more weeks of this, some rejections and more investigation pending, I decide to send in the d*mn check anyway today, thinking if this, by some miracle, gets worked out, they can reimburse me. Well, of course the insurance company calls this afternoon and tells me that they've readjusted some claims and I owe less money. I run to the mailbox and what do you know, this is the one day the mailman came early.

Ten years already?

I keep having zombie apocalypse dreams. Last night included a ghost train that ran through our safety house. I was also worried about the dessert supply (we had to buy our own goods from the store still). As if running from the zombies wasn't exhausting enough.

Friday was my ten year Marist reunion. Dave was worried he wouldn't know anyone there except me and Jason, but I kept telling him he would know the same people I did. I enjoyed catching up with my friends, but I'm not sure I talked to anyone that I didn't talk to in high school. If I did it was awkward and short. What do you say, "Hello. We never talked when given a six-year chance, why don't we correct that in the next three hours? Let me buy you a glass of wine. Oh yes, that's right, it's open bar." Though I did convince one guy that he shouldn't use the title "dictator" when he attempted to take over the world. I told him I'd help him.

Next time I'm planning the reunion. I see it including some media, games, kids, better food, and tables and chairs. I'm tired of the popular kids telling us how things are going to go. For goodness sakes it's been ten years already.

Walt's First Thanksgiving

He slept ten hours straight last night. Then, when he ate for an hour and was still wide awake (even after falling asleep while nursing), and I put him in his bed anyway (cause unless something is wrong I only stay up with him for an hour during the night), he was quiet and put himself back to sleep for two more hours without making a peep!

I'm pretty sure that was Walt's way of saying: "I'm thankful for you, mommy. I love you."

Politeness is a Virtue

One of my favorite things about Frances was that before he would come inside the house, he would always pause to clean his claws on the welcome mat.

Last night at 3:30am instead of either eating or sleeping, the only two things I would find acceptable at that hour, Walter was staring at me and smiling and sticking out his tongue. Cute; the boy knows how to work his audience!

I've forgotten how much longer it takes my bath towel to dry in the cold winter rather than the hot summer. Sad.

Another thing I will greatly miss is that Frances would follow us down the street meowing at us to come back when Dave and I would go for a walk.

Sunday Evening Thoughts

Today at Costco this big lady rushes past me, Dave and baby shouting "Hey Walter!" and Dave and I look at each other confused and surprised until we see the sample guy with the name tag "Walter" peddling his goods next to us.

The weekend has gone wonderfully despite the death in our little family. That and my family has to convince me that overcooked pork and undercooked vegetables suffices as a decent meal. It never works out for me when I just throw things into a casserole dish and put it in the oven hoping it'll all come together perfectly. Or the crockpot. I have to have a decent recipe to make that device work.

It is inevitable that when I put on a coat or a pair of pants that hasn't been washed in awhile that I will find at least one tissue in one pocket... does this happen to anyone else? I'd like to blame this on winter-time but David would disagree. I blame instead the nose job I had as a 16 year old which left my nose health in shambles ever since.

My father in law likes reading my blog because he finds the in-person Katherine to be a little different (or a little less revealing) than blogger Katherine. I think this is always true when I write. I have some friends I've been completely different with via email and it is so much easier to write certain things down than to have to live them face-to-face. This is compounded by the internet being a haven for publicly shared private information. Perceived anonymity that is completely false.

I'm glad I'm not pregnant anymore so I can enjoy a glass of wine or two. That, a puzzle, a fire, and a movie with David is my idea of a good date night. Yes, we were already totally boring and ready to have children before we did.

Efficiency Mode

A term coined by David to express one's state of mind when things are getting accomplished, usually at a speedy pace. It is easy to recognize in one's partner when they travel from chore to chore and you can't even ask how you can help cause then you'd be getting in the way.

I was going to write a blog about this week, how I am getting in the groove and how Walt lets me get things done during the day now. During his first nap in the morning I get ready for the day, eat breakfast, empty the dishwasher and make the bed. His afternoon nap, usually longer, provides me time to get one large chore done (or two medium ones). This can be making dinner (or banana pudding like on Wednesday) or an eventful household chore like cleaning the whole house or blowing and bagging leaves in the yard (why do we have so many oak trees on our small piece of property? I'm hoping the one large one won't drop its leaves this year or possibly they'll just disintegrate before they hit the ground).

But instead I will write about Friday evening.

David and I were getting Walt ready for bed. Everything was as it normally is and we were enjoying our time as a family (bedtime is always a fun routine with the three of us). We are dogsitting Tashi (my mother's shih tzu) this weekend and the three animals had been especially wild that day torturing each other (in between bouts of sleeping on all the surfaces in our living room of course). Walt was getting his nightly bottle - a puzzle, dinner, movie & bottle of wine waiting for us - when we heard a sharp meow from downstairs. I looked over the railing to check it out, but seeing two of the three small creatures on the landing and Frances by himself downstairs I wondered what it could have been. I called out to Frank and he didn't respond, so I stayed upstairs and went into the second bedroom to work on our Christmas card while David had some father/son time with Walt. Ironically I was writing down all the things we were thankful for in 2012 when I hear a scuffle and David shouts at me to come take Walt. I come out to the landing and David is looking at Frank huddled in the corner while the other two examine him (or bother him?) and Walt is crying in his bed. I pick up Walter, continue to feed him, and David comes in and says that Frank is acting paralyzed in his back legs. My adrenaline spikes as Frances meows and meows and David doesn't say things are getting any better. They go into the second bedroom and shut the door. Walt is full but not yet sleepy, smiling at me so it's hard to do anything else, but we go to see what's up with Frank. He's under the bed and flopping around using only his front paws and crying out every time he does it.

I finally get Walt to sleep and we find a 24 hour vet to take Frances to. He's hard to handle when he's happy so it takes a towel and some biting to get him into the carrier with him in such pain. Luckily Dave's parents were able to come over on short notice so we both could go to the vet. We get there and meanwhile Frances is shredding the carrier and while the tech examines him Frances is biting the towel and freaking out and causes his mouth to bleed. No obvious fractures and his back feet are significantly colder than his front (I felt them; they were scary cold). Diagnosis: a clot from underlying heart disease has caused paralysis. Prognosis: most likely would never be able to walk again even with significant medical intervention and care and even after that his heart would get worse, throw more clots, and he could die any time.

End result: I wish Frances was meowing at me to go outside right now, or to get out of the shower, or to hurry up and feed him... I had him for 7 1/2 years and we loved each other a lot. Not everyone understood him, but he and I were close. He was a good cat and I've been writing down all the silly things I can remember about him (I did the same for Shogo last year). I'm sad. I thought we had many more years together.

Life is short. Life is not perfect. But if we love every day together then when that final goodbye comes it's missing a good friend not regretting missed opportunities.

Snippets

We have an evil dog neighbor. Our kitchen sink window looks directly to the side of our neighbor's house and their backyard. They have two windows facing us. In the closest window, the dog - some pointer breed - will sit there, framed by the white curtains, giving you the death stare and not moving. Those types of dogs are made for the death stare. Creepy.

Watching two and a half hours of Walking Dead the other night caused me great anxiety. I spent the rest of the evening looking at our supplies of canned goods in the pantry and wondering where we could store extra water.

A couple days ago it was a Babies R Us kind of day. I met my friend at the one in Perimeter and ended up running into my aunt there. And then my aunt ran into her sister-in-law.

We've encountered our first cold. Walt has no symptoms except congestion. But what a symptom! I'm constantly worried about his ability to breathe. Luckily we have bulb syringes, saline solution, a humidifier, and lots of love on hand to combat this. Yes he cries during our mucus extraction surgeries.

He slept 9 hours straight last night! Victory is ours!

Today we're going to take our holiday photos for our Christmas card... I can't believe it's already that time of year!

An extra hour at night means nothing to a baby

My son likes to collect lint in between his fingers. We have to clean it out daily. Today was a lot.

This weekend was a great weekend despite my brother going home to Belgium! Let's see... a visit from Dave's cousin just to hold the baby, baked salmon, church, yard work, sleep, movies, puzzles, my book, extra Halloween candy: all good things.

This week should be an interesting week. An important election on Tuesday and I'm wondering how the US/world will react to either result. However, I'm more excited about my expensive Catbird Pikkolo baby carrier arriving in time to take the baby to the polls with me. I'm not sure it's going to happen though. I guess I will have to come up with an alternative. I'm wondering if a screaming baby will help move me ahead in the line come Tuesday?

Friendships post-baby

I knew my life would change, but how much I could not guess beforehand. No one knows what it is going to be like to be a parent. And every situation is different too. But no one "on the outside" can grasp what it is like to have your own child. I thought I knew what it was like, but there is just no way. And you cannot maintain the same life as you once had. Maybe some people do, but that seems unimaginable to me. Maybe it's just that I am a different person now and not much else has changed.

Friends. It's hard to stay friends with people who don't quite get you. Who live a completely different life than you do. I can't claim to have many close friends. But I considered those in my inner circle to be indefatigable. I had hoped nothing would change. For a while it was hard to even get to my phone to answer calls or texts. Now it seems like friendships are already shifting. I don't know what to do... I will always have to take care of Walter. I am lucky; I have babysitters at the tips of my fingers. But I still have to plan ahead if I want to go somewhere on my own. I enjoy bringing Walt with me, but there's bags of baby utilities to bring and naps and food to schedule around, and I am still a slave to my own body (on my bad days I would characterize it like that). Even though Walt is no longer inside of me, I am still his sole source of food. I know that could change if I buy some formula, but my body would not immediately stop producing milk even if I did that. I would get an infection if I cut him off cold turkey. So for the next year this symbiotic relationship will continue (by my choice of course).

Maybe I did have an illusion even while pregnant that nothing would change; I could just lug my baby gear around with me to hang out whenever I wanted... I could work and read and create and... well, I still will do those things. But in terms of relationships... I am lucky for the friends I do have. I am closer to some people now, I still have my true die hard friends, and my family is there for me too. They don't give the baby back when he starts crying. He is a cute crier. His bottom lip pouts out and Mr. Grumpus emerges...

I will have to wait it out. If I'm the only one who has changed, I just need to work harder at being the friend I always want to be and believe I am.

I should try to be funny in my next post. This seems heavy for a Saturday night.