Keeping it short

Technically I should be laying down right now, with my leg elevated, but I'm bored to DEATH of that, so here I am.

Hi!

So where were we?

Oh yes, I broke my leg. Short version is that I was horribly attacked by a rogue pinecone. This is more true that I want to admit. Basically, I was walking to my car on Wednesday after school and I stepped on a pinecone with my right foot. The foot twisted inward, resulting in a mild sprain. Then the fun started. As I was falling, I stepped out with my left leg, came down hard and hit with all my weight on the outside of the left foot. This turned the foot inward, resulting in a badly torn ligament and also sheared the fibula (that's the long thinner bone of the lower leg for those of you who failed anatomy).

At first I just thought, "Hey! I've fallen and I can't get up!" Which was sort of funny. And then... it wasn't so funny because I'd fallen. And I could. Not. Get. Up. My ankle hurt worse and worse and then worse and WORSE. I didn't want to move, actually. By this time there were about 4 people asking me if I was OK (which I certainly was not), if I could move (which I could not) and whether I wanted an ambulance (which, at that point, I did not).

Someone called Dave to come pick me up and a wheelchair was produced. Schools, man. They have everything. I was lifted into the wheelchair and props go out to the guys who got me in that thing. They're the heroes. I was brought back into the school office, and a more painful ride I hope never to take. Dave showed up after about 15 minutes and we collectively decided to call 911 because I was terrified to move my leg. Our school secretary told me that every time we moved the chair I was resting my leg on, I went white. I believe it too, because... OUCH.

Sooooooo, we called 911 and they came and asked me about twelve times what my name was and where did I think I was and all that, checking to see if I'd hit my head, I guess. And then the fireman asked me the one question that made me want to kiss him and run away to Bimini and live with him forevermore.

"Would you like some morphine?"

Yes. Yes, I would, thank you very much. So I was duly doped up and after a hit of morphine I was just fine letting everyone mess with my leg and splint it and whatever they had to do. Yay morphine!

I was brought out to the ambulance, secured, double checked and then... guess what they did? THEY GAVE ME MORE MORPHINE. I loved the lovely ambulance people.

We got to the ER and I was stationed in a hallway (they were busy). When the doctor came to look at me, he took off the splint, gently poked at the swelling and said, "OK, here's what I want to do. I want to give you some more pain medicine and then we'll take x-rays."

My first thought? More pain medicine? I need more before you'll take x-rays? Sign me up!

I got a hit of something even better than morphine and got my x-rays. Then I spent the next hour? 90 minutes? I do not know. Anyway I spent the rest of the time dozing in the hallway. It was lovely, actually.

After the x-rays came back, the doc told me I needed surgery so they'd splint me up and have the orthopedic surgeon call me on Thursday. Fun! I was really surprised at how fast everything moved. We were in the ER for about 3 hours, the orthopedic surgeon called at 8:30 the next day and I was scheduled for surgery at 11 the following day.

The surgery was anticlimactic. I went in, they hooked me up to an IV, initially said they were going to give me twilight sleep but I think they decided to knock me out instead and then I woke up in recovery. I spent one night in the hospital, hooked up to a morphine drip (love that lovey morphine) and came home on Saturday.

So here we are. It's Monday, I'm out of work until after the New Year and I have to keep my leg elevated. Updates will be scattered for the next week or so. Dave has offered to type in my NaBloPoMo updates so I'm still up for that. If you send me any emails it'll take a day or two for me to respond since I have to get upstairs to do that and I can only handle the damn stairs once a day. They're scary right now because... well, crutches, for one thing. Also my leg is only in a splint until Halloween because of possible swelling. I won't get a cast until at least the middle of next week, so support is sort of iffy on the leg.

My final words to you are these: Watch out for pinecones!!
Posted by GoddessKristin on 10/22/07 at 12:34 PM [link]

That's Why They Call Me Grace

Guess what I did yesterday afternoon.

Go on. Guess. I dare you.

You'll never guess in a million years. Give up?

I broke my leg.

Yeah! I know! Great timing, huh? Every mother of a four month old needs a broken leg! So, to keep up with the trends, I went out and got me one and boy was it fun!

Except for the whole broken part.

I'm off to the orthopedic surgeon now to have a consult. I messed me up good! So good I need surgery! Whee!

But for now, I am alive. I am on good meds. I have my husband and my mother to help with Dess.

And I am deeply, deeply embarrassed.
Posted by GoddessKristin on 10/18/07 at 08:54 AM [link]

Feeding time shenanigans

Hi! Good morning! I'm totally tired! How are you?

I have to be all upbeat and happy this morning because yay! Caffeine! It's the only thing keeping me conscious! Huzzah!

Also? I'm so tired I could drop to sleep right now. It's only Wednesday so... probably I will be dead by the weekend. Yay. And stuff.

My darling child is not sleeping through the night anymore. I don't know what the hell happened. She seems to have a bladder the size of Milwaukee and she appears to let it free at about one in the morning. Yesterday morning the dear child was awake at 3:30 am and Dave got up with her. This morning she was up and kicking at 2:30 am and... it was my turn. She was soaked through to the sheets and hungry.

The hell?

This is the fourth night in a row that she's wet through her diaper, her sleeper, her Miracle Wrap, the sheets and the mattress cover (which thankfully has a plastic portion before we hit the mattress, because otherwise... yuck). When I mentioned this to Dave before dawn today, the exhausted conversation went like this:

Me: Dess keeps wetting through. Maybe we should try double diapering her...?
Dave: Maybe we need to feed her and then wait and change her diaper later... maybe feeding her and then putting her to sleep at 7:30 pm isn't good...
Me (mildly): She's sleepy at 7:30. She's ready to go to sleep... we could double diaper her...
Dave: I mean, maybe we need to feed her and then change her later, before she goes to sleep... and she doesn't need to go right to sleep...
Me: She's sleepy at 7:30. She rubs her eyes...
Dave: Maybe we can double diaper her... can you do that?
Me: I JUST SUGGESTED THAT!
Dave: No. NO. Really?
Me (thinking, but not saying): Where did you think that thought came from? It was the voice in your head. MY VOICE.

Today after school I'll be going to the store to look for heavy duty steel belted radial diapers. And I will also be buying something else. Something I was sort of hoping to put off for a little while longer.

Rice cereal.

My baby is so ready to do these things... sleep in her own crib, eat solid food, turn over...did I mention that she flipped from back to front on Saturday morning? No? She did. I'm trying simultaneously to ignore it and also to see it for myself (she was on the floor at the time and I was looking in the fridge for a second. She was on her back and then... not. I missed the actual turning. And of course now, every time I watch, she gets three-quarters of the way over and fusses until she flips back. The shocked look on her face is priceless, the goof). Now she seems to need solid food at night. I wanted to wait until November because... because I guess I am a control freak? I don't know exactly. But Dessa seems to want more food at night, and we're in the window to introduce solids and...

Alright, alright, alright. I guess I'll get some damn cereal. JEEZ.

And the video camera. And the digital camera. Because if I'm going to be forced into these firsts, at least I can continue my father's legacy and document the hell out of them.

This afternoon I'll go home and finish putting together the high chair. I started to put it together at 6:15 this morning but didn't realize it required screws and a screwdriver. I thought it was a pop together affair. Not so much. I was wiped out at 6:15 this morning so why I thought opening the box for the high chair and putting it together was a good idea is anyone's guess. I'm on step 5 of about 900 right now. Wish me luck.

The high chair box has been in a corner of the living room since my shower and cracks me up every time I see it. My sister AC bought it for us and was convinced that it encourages "feeding time shenanigans" (her words). The high chair in question, by the way, is this one:

Her judgement is based on the removable toy that takes up the whole tray. Being Dessa's auntie, AC bought the high chair with the prissy admonishment that she chose it because it was prettier than the pack 'n play (which she refused to buy based on the fact that it was brown... go figure) but she actually wasn't all that thrilled with my choice because the toy probably encouraged "feeding time shenanigans". I would worry about my child's future based on this but... what the hell does my sister know, anyway? Also I can't stop laughing about "feeding time shenanigans". I mean... shenanigans? Who says that anymore!?

However, she could be right. I mean, honestly, what the hell do I know?

Updates tomorrow.
Posted by GoddessKristin on 10/17/07 at 10:30 AM [link]

Working for the Weekend

I saw this idea over at All Rileyed Up and figured I'd kick in my list. I'm always looking for ways to list things, because I'm a nut job that way. And also I'm a giver, as you know.

All the jobs I’ve ever had, in order (with comments!):

Babysitter - wasn't that everyone's first job?

Data input... person - I'm not sure how to explain this. I was in high school at the time, and my father was a database software test manager. When you test databases, you need data. Several times he got his company to pay me at a piecework rate to input things like names and addresses and build a test database. It was only years later, when I was a tester myself, that I finally understood what I had been doing. At $0.25 an address (a dime for corrections) it would sound like you couldn't make much money, but I think I got something like three or four hundred dollars for a couple weekend's work. It was a lot of data and a lot of money for a sophomore in the 80's.

Floppy disc copier - Another job my Dad set up for me. His company was putting out a beta software release and instead of outsourcing the copying of the floppy discs (this was in 1986, people!), he convinced them to let me do it for a weekend. My GOD it was boring.

Toy store clerk - read all about that debacle here

Hostess at Bobby McGee's restaurant - dressed as "Mistress Abigail" (in colonial costume, not leather you heathens! At this point I was still only 16!) A few weeks back, when I noted that I'd been working for a long time, I meant it. I wound up quitting this one because I was going to Europe for 3 weeks during the summer between my junior and senior years and didn't plan to work my senior year of high school. My boss didn't want me to quit at the time and said I didn't have to, but I wanted to. This job came back to haunt me after high school.

Craft store inventory... person - a lot of summer jobs don't have actual titles. They're just suck-ass jobs that you have for a few months. I did inventory at a Michael's craft store the summer before I went to college. It lost it's appeal about 2 weeks in, but I got to snag a lot of Jordan Almonds from broken bags intended for homemade wedding favors.

Dorm cafeteria worker - part of my work-study deal at UCSB (oh, you didn't know I went to UCSB? Well, I did. For a quarter. I'll tell you about it in November. Hey, I need something to write about every damn day, right?)

Back to hostessing at Bobby McGee's - I returned to the same place, dressed as Mistress Abigail again, switched to Scarlett O'Hara (a costume I freaking LOVED, despite the fact that a hoopskirt in a busy kitchen is a recipe for disaster. More on that in November), fell in love with my boss (more on that... maybe never, actually), lost my virginity (directly attributable to the restaurant, though not with the boss and not at said restaurant. And don't hold your breath in November for that story), and generally spent about 18 months completely confused. Good times...

Simultaneously, I worked as an...

On-call librarian - Yes, there is such a thing. The switch between the debauchery of the restaurant and the... the LIBRARY, people... It was a head-spinner, that's for sure. There's a story here, too. About a stalker. More fodder for November! Stay tuned!

While I was a librarian, I was also working as a...

Clerk at the student affirmative action office at Cal State Hayward - I got this job by the skin of my teeth and everyone there resented me because I wasn't dark enough. I think I only kept the job for a quarter before they found a reason to get rid of me. Oh, the irony. It was data entry again (using WordStar - remember WordStar? It sucked ass). I was glad to leave.

For one day (one day!) I was a...

Telemarketer - I tried to sell the local newspaper by phone. I loathed the job. I felt dirty at the end of the day, went home and called in to quit. By the end of the week the outfit had folded anyway. I was not sorry.

By the way, for those who are counting I had three part time jobs while I was a full time student at Cal State. I was young. I was busy. I had no social life, but I was actually really happy during that time. The restaurant gig eventually turned into a backstage job and I became a...

Restaurant Accountant - I graduated from McGee's hostess to dealing with the accounts. I had a key to the place and was usually the first one there in the mornings. I had to count the tabs and money, reconcile the tills, fill out the paperwork, hand over the loot to the (early and surly) Brinks guy, input the inventory (and I'm still fast and accurate on a 10 key because of that...), etc., etc., etc. I was actually good at that job, because I'm organized and I liked being behind the scenes, hanging around during setup, working with the day guys (and they were all guys. I liked being the only girl around. I was thin then...).

I was also sexually harrassed by a boss there... lord, I have so many stories...

Eventually that branch of the McGee's chain closed and I moved to the San Ramon branch. It was around that time that Cheese Boy moved to California and everything changed. By that time I had quit all my other jobs and was working solely as an accountant but the commute was a pain, I was trying to finish my degree and my Dad found me a job as a...

Software tester - I did this job for over 10 years. I eventually moved into management. LONG ass story here. God, I could just tell you stories about all my stupid jobs in November and write every day. Maybe I will. Although it will probably bore you to tears. Just like my NaNoWriMo novel...

Anyway. The software testing thing lasted many many companies. And countries. By 2000, I was in France as a software test manager (that still kills me! I mean... why?? Why were they paying me to live in France? There was no actual job there! AAAAhahahahaaaaa!).

Anyway. Again. So I was in France. And I changed jobs. Again. To become a...

Software program manager - arguably the worst job ever. Not because of the job. Because of the company. More on that... oh God, I really don't want to think too much about that. If I get really desperate in November I may revisit this time in my life, but I can't say I want to.

I got laid off from that job, finally. I wanted to get laid off; that was the funny thing. I was triumphant when I was laid off. I'd worked for the same company for 6 years and my compensation package was big. Big enough to take some time off, which I intended to do, but then a start up in the city offered me a job and since Dave was starting his own business... I took it. For the money. And I hated it. But once again, and for almost a year, I was a...

Software testing manager - God. The less said about this time in my life, the better. Mostly because I can't tell you too much about it because when I wasn't sobbing or drowning my sorrows in cheap wine I was trying like hell to keep my (admittedly gorgeous but dumb as they come boss's boss) happy. It was not possible and so I finally quit. With no job prospects in sight, I decided to re-evaluate and eventually went back to school to become what I am now.

8th grade English and History teacher - my current gig.

Worst job? My time as a software program manager, by far. That was less because of the job itself than the company and the people. Dear God, the people. Program Management at That Company... you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villany. When you call your boss The Hamster behind his back and sing "You're Not the Boss of Me Now" at top volume as you peel out of the parking lot the morning you're laid off? That's a bad job.

Most fun job? My time at Bobby McGee's. I was single, I was in school, I was busy. McGee's was my sorority, fraternity, job, soap opera... it was drama of the highest order. It was tailor made for me at that time in my life. I could never go back to that life now and I wouldn't want to. But for that time, in that place... for a girl just coming out of private Catholic school... I loved it.

Most satisfying job? I have to say that teaching has been the most satisfying. Good days are so incredibly good. Bad days are over at the final bell. Every day I start fresh and I like that so much. Plus, I like working with the hormonally challenged.

Most exciting job? Probably my midpoint days working as a software test manager for That Company, because of the travel. The list of places I got to travel on business was extensive (more stories! Remind me to tell you about the time I got incredibly drunk on white wine in a hotel bar in Dublin and tried to broker a peace deal with Northern Ireland along with two Irish guys blasted on Guinness. I stormed out at one AM disgusted with hundreds of years of history! I am a classy American!)

Dream job? Right now I'd like to have the resources to be a stay at home mom. The floors would be cleaner, I'll tell ya what. I know the pay is rotten (which is why I'm a teacher... the pay is so much improved!) but I know I'd find the work satisfying...

Wow. In thinking about this, I realize I actually have a lot of stories. Good stories and bad stories and embarrassing stories and coming of age stories. I am my own After School Special! What say I focus in November on some of this stuff? I've always meant to write about it in the past but for whatever reason I haven't revisited it all. Sound like a plan? I'm sort of dying to know if any of the stories will be new to Dave and/or Brat, since a lot of this time was in the years before I met either of them but they know really well.

Of course... the occasional Dessa Break will be included, because no matter what my W-2 says, my real job title? Is "Mommy".
Posted by GoddessKristin on 10/16/07 at 10:32 AM [link]

November commitments (or: I should probably be committed for the entire month of November)

Faithful readers might recall a few years ago when I participated in NaNoWriMo, at the behest (is that how it's spelled? It looks weird but you don't see it in usage very often so who knows), anyway at the urging of Brat. We wrote terrible novels together, or at least mine was terrible. Hers wasn't half bad, if I recall correctly. Mine was embarrassing.

NaNoWriMo takes place every November and I haven't done it since that first time. I'm not doing it this year. With a baby and all the stupidity that goes along with it (last night I couldn't find my underwear), committing to writing a 50,000 word novel in 30 days is plain nuts.

However, I will be participating in NaBloPoMo this year. That's National Blog Posting Month, for those who are wondering.


Visit NaBloPoMo


I can commit to posting an update every day in November. Some will be long. Some will be short. Some will be just right. Something every day. For 30 days.

I can do that.
Posted by GoddessKristin on 10/10/07 at 10:35 AM [link]

Good thoughts and tired moms

So, Dessa woke up for no fathomable reason at 3:30 am today, screaming and inconsolable until she had a bottle. It was really weird too, because she'd had a big bottle at 7:30 pm and was in her crib and out by 8:30 pm. That's usually a hit and run that she'll go through the night with ease. She wasn't overly wet, either so I don't know what her deal was. But awake she was and we had to go through everything - change of diaper, full feeding, walking and then Daddy took over so I could try to catch an extra hour of sleep. She didn't go back to bed until 5:15 either, so nobody was all that thrilled to greet the dawn today. We'll hope for better things tomorrow.

I'm not usually one to ask for prayers or good thoughts because I'm not sure what they do, exactly, beyond spreading the word that something bad has happened. My own faith or lack thereof is a messy thing that I never talk about on this blog, mainly because I don't know what I believe so it's hard to discuss. I don't even talk about it much with Dave. My idea of God is right up there with Franny Glass's - it's Santa Claus and my own father and Jesus all mixed up. Raised Catholic, I like the ritual of the church but don't respect much else about it. As a woman I am offended by its stand on so many issues and as a human being I'm appalled by its history. My problems with the church aside, I have faith issues around the big guy upstairs. Is he a guy? Is he really that big? Why does he need me, a lowly human, to worship him? And is there an upstairs at all? These are all mere starter issues for me. Don't get me started on the deeper stuff.

But there is a comfort in knowing that people are wishing well for those you love, and it's in that spirit that I ask you to keep my goddaughter in your thoughts. She was hit by a truck earlier this week and has gone through several surgeries so far (punctured lung, plates in the thigh). The doctors say she will recover and she's very fortunate that there are no brain injuries or worse, but she has a long recovery ahead of her. Knowing that people are wishing her well will help her, and maybe that's what it's really about.
Posted by GoddessKristin on 10/05/07 at 08:42 AM [link]

Getting Outta Here

September is over and I have to say we're finally starting to get the hang of getting up, changed, fed, dressed and out of the house in a reasonable amount of time (and that's just me! Ka-ching! Thanks! I'll be here all week).

Dessa's sleeping patterns are beginning to be a bit less erratic and most nights she's asleep for the evening by 8:30 pm. Sometimes it's earlier (tonight she conked out at 7:30) and sometimes later, but it's not a bad life, sleep-wise. We're also getting the hang of what she needs for naps. And the answer to that is? Swaddling. The kid almost invariably relaxes within 3 minutes of being swaddled. She can also usually be put down when she's swaddled, too, freeing her mother up for Very Important Tasks such as reading historical novels, setting up her TiVo season passes to tape as many episodes of The Golden Girls as possible (don't judge me. That's God's job), and general moving about.

I try to get the baby up after I have my breakfast. Those 10 - 15 minutes first thing in the morning to myself are lovely, though I admit that I constantly have one ear out for early morning stirrings. Some days the timing works out and I can have my breakfast and then get Dessa up and she's just starting to come around. Other mornings she wakes up first and the whole thing is out the window.

And then there are the mornings where she's still out like a light when it's time to get a move on. One fantastic benefit to my Mom being the day care provider is that I can grab Dessa at the last minute if I have to, stick her in the car seat, bring her to Mom's and hand her over with a, "She hasn't been changed or fed yet. Enjoy!" I don't like to do it often, because I like my mornings with my baby. I like to cuddle up and feed her, nuzzle her sweet little cheek, and watch her try to smile at her Daddy around the nipple of her bottle, a trick that spills formula all over her chin but is endearing nonetheless.

But on those mornings when I have to pack her up in her sleeper? Pretty damn cute.

Posted by GoddessKristin on 10/02/07 at 09:22 PM [link]