The top ten things I hope to avoid seeing and hearing by eliminating TV from our household:
10. Jerry Rome Hyundai commercials featuring his retired dog Buddy or the new replacement, Jack. I can't help but wonder if retired is a euphamism for dead.
9. The TV Guide Channel. I know that somebody must like to watch Dirty Dancing back-to-back for a month but really, can't you show more than 3 channels at a time? By the time I know what is playing on all the channels, I missed the show.
8. Real Housewives of anything (Thank you NJ!)
7. Commercials for Vagasil, Summer's Eve, Tampax and any other remedy for my vagina. (Ok...I know I was watching Lifetime...but still.)
6. Benefiber commercials featuring beautiful women with flat tummies lounging by the pool. I don't know about you, but when I think about fiber supplements, I think about pooping...not putting on a bikini.
5. Commercials commercials commercials...for all the novelties out there like granola squares (because bars weren't cutting it) and Oreo straws (because dunking a cookie is SO yesterday)
4. Reality TV. I don't hate all reality TV but come on, enough is enough. Did you know there is a show called Dance Your Ass Off??? It is a weight loss/dance competition show. Seriously.
3. Having visions of perfection shoved down my throat every time I change a channel. Perfect body, perfect hair, perfect wife, perfect mother, perfect baby, perfect clothes, perfect food, perfect technology, perfect house, perfect car, perfect perfect perfect. (Do I sound bitter?)
2. The Kardashians.
1. Commercials for the Miss Universe pageant hosted by none other then Bret Michaels.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Sunday, August 1, 2010
J-J-J-Jaded
Definition of Jaded according to dictionary.com:
–noun
1. a worn-out, broken-down, worthless, or vicious horse.
2. a disreputable or ill-tempered woman.
–verb (used with object), verb (used without object)
3. to make or become dull, worn-out, or weary, as from overwork or overuse.
This is so me right now.
–noun
1. a worn-out, broken-down, worthless, or vicious horse.
2. a disreputable or ill-tempered woman.
–verb (used with object), verb (used without object)
3. to make or become dull, worn-out, or weary, as from overwork or overuse.
This is so me right now.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Who I Used to Be / Animals: Part 2
Go figure things got away from me and I slacked on the blog...I'm back for another try. This is a good post for today because I have been feeling, once again, like being a mother inevitably means losing oneself. I am in a very different place than I was when I felt this way before. Shortly after having Oliver, while in the depths of severe post-partum depression, I felt like I was gone. I could never do anything I enjoyed ever again. The baby would become my only hobby.
I now realize that this isn't true. I can still do so many of the things I enjoy doing. Sure there are limitations on when, and how long, but I can still fit things in. The loss of myself that I am starting to feel now is the loss of the capable, talented, smart woman I used to be (nevermind attractive...that one might be gone for good). I used to work and get a paycheck. I was a valuable asset to a company and a valuable asset to my husband. I helped sick and injured animals...I was valuable to them and to their owners. I had skills that not just anybody has. I was challenged intellectually and physically...my mind was engaged and active.
These days I have "mommy brain" so bad that when I get OFF the highway I stick my hand out to take a ticket from the toll worker when I, in fact, have one sitting on the dash to give to him. My "purse" consists of diapers, bottles, toys and various teething relief supplies. I have yet to be successful in spending one whole day at home with Oliver. He requires so much activity and stimulation that I am often on-the-go. This leaves such little time for anything other than packing and unpacking his things, washing them, driving to and from activities, feeding him, diapering him and soothing him in between all of this. When he naps at home, I clean. Most of his naps happen in the car so I rarely get to "sleep when he sleeps." At home, we sing songs (I sing songs and make hand motions while he crawls around demolishing the apartment), play with blocks (I stack them as fast as possible because he feverishly knocks them over), read books (I try to read while Oliver tries to close the book), or play outside (I sit in a chair while Oliver crawls around from toy to toy only to eventually end up on the concrete playing with non-toys). Needless to say, there's not a whole lot of mental stimulation going on here.
I feel I have digressed. Back to the animals...and to finish up this post so I can eat dinner (at 8:55pm - Yay!) So...before having Oliver I worked as a Veterinary Nurse in an emergency/critical care hospital. Before that I worked in a different animal hospital that did wellness, surgery, critical care and emergency during hours of operation. My job included many different tasks in the areas of patient care, radiology, laboratory, anesthesia, surgery, and much more. Following are just a few photographs of animals I helped care for. I enjoy looking back at these because it reminds me that I am still capable, still talented, and still smart and someday I will have the opportunity to show it.
***CAUTION: Some of these images may be graphic in nature! If you have a weak stomach, you may not want to look!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
A fluffy pomeranian with a broken leg.
This is what happens to a dog's foot if you do not come in for the required bandage changes.
A whippet impaled with an arrow.
His Radiograph.
Two basset hounds accidentally dragged behind a trailer...their feet were largely degloved and their bellies scraped raw.
A pit bull puppy thrown out of a 3rd story window. This was in the news a lot and the puppy was ultimately adopted by one of my co-workers.
Me with one of the tiniest and cutest dogs I have ever seen.
I now realize that this isn't true. I can still do so many of the things I enjoy doing. Sure there are limitations on when, and how long, but I can still fit things in. The loss of myself that I am starting to feel now is the loss of the capable, talented, smart woman I used to be (nevermind attractive...that one might be gone for good). I used to work and get a paycheck. I was a valuable asset to a company and a valuable asset to my husband. I helped sick and injured animals...I was valuable to them and to their owners. I had skills that not just anybody has. I was challenged intellectually and physically...my mind was engaged and active.
These days I have "mommy brain" so bad that when I get OFF the highway I stick my hand out to take a ticket from the toll worker when I, in fact, have one sitting on the dash to give to him. My "purse" consists of diapers, bottles, toys and various teething relief supplies. I have yet to be successful in spending one whole day at home with Oliver. He requires so much activity and stimulation that I am often on-the-go. This leaves such little time for anything other than packing and unpacking his things, washing them, driving to and from activities, feeding him, diapering him and soothing him in between all of this. When he naps at home, I clean. Most of his naps happen in the car so I rarely get to "sleep when he sleeps." At home, we sing songs (I sing songs and make hand motions while he crawls around demolishing the apartment), play with blocks (I stack them as fast as possible because he feverishly knocks them over), read books (I try to read while Oliver tries to close the book), or play outside (I sit in a chair while Oliver crawls around from toy to toy only to eventually end up on the concrete playing with non-toys). Needless to say, there's not a whole lot of mental stimulation going on here.
I feel I have digressed. Back to the animals...and to finish up this post so I can eat dinner (at 8:55pm - Yay!) So...before having Oliver I worked as a Veterinary Nurse in an emergency/critical care hospital. Before that I worked in a different animal hospital that did wellness, surgery, critical care and emergency during hours of operation. My job included many different tasks in the areas of patient care, radiology, laboratory, anesthesia, surgery, and much more. Following are just a few photographs of animals I helped care for. I enjoy looking back at these because it reminds me that I am still capable, still talented, and still smart and someday I will have the opportunity to show it.
***CAUTION: Some of these images may be graphic in nature! If you have a weak stomach, you may not want to look!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
A fluffy pomeranian with a broken leg.
This is what happens to a dog's foot if you do not come in for the required bandage changes.
A whippet impaled with an arrow.
His Radiograph.
Two basset hounds accidentally dragged behind a trailer...their feet were largely degloved and their bellies scraped raw.
A pit bull puppy thrown out of a 3rd story window. This was in the news a lot and the puppy was ultimately adopted by one of my co-workers.
Me with one of the tiniest and cutest dogs I have ever seen.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Animals: Part 1
Animals are my life. Oh...wait...animals were my life.
If you had asked me even just one year ago, when I was hugely pregnant, I would have said that having a baby would in no way change how I felt about my animals. Or all animals for that matter. I was SO wrong.
I have always loved animals of all kinds. Wild ones, farm ones, pet ones. It sounds hokey, but I also feel that on some level, I can communicate with animals. Not all animals. Not wild ones. Not even all pet ones. When I was a kid we just had cats and rabbits. My grandmother had a horse that I helped take care of and her cousin, Kenny, kept a cow in the same pasture. I rode the horse bareback in the Berkshire Hills where I grew up. I chipped the ice out of their water tub and carried buckets of fresh water to refill the tub twice a day in the winter. In the fall I walked the bare corn fields bordering our house collecting the dried out ears to feed them for treats over the winter. In the spring and summer I brushed the horse and bathed her. I also brushed the cow. They both had chestnut colored hair, quite the same as the color of my own hair. I didn't know back then that those reddish cows, Herefords, are a beef breed.
I have a vivid memory of the cow, Annie was her name, birthing her twin calves. She was having trouble. One was stuck. Kenny came to help her. He removed his shirt and reached his arm up in her to untangle the long calf legs. He slowly helped ease the babies out. They were dead. He barried them on top of the hill in her pasture where they were born. For weeks afterword he had to bring her hay to her at that spot. She would not leave it. I would walk out to her, pet her, tell her I was sorry. She was sad. You can never convince me that cows don't know sadness. I grew up across the way from a cow farm and every spring when the calves were taken from their mothers, the desperate calls of the cows could be heard all night long for over a week. It was a sound I fell asleep to each year. Sometimes, as a child, it made me cry. I'm fairly certain if I had to listen to those sorrowful moos again, I would cry now too.
Most of the veterinary work I have done has been on small animals - cats and dogs. I have had the opportunity however to assist on a number of farm calls for cows and once got to assist on an abdominal surgery on a calf with a very large hernia. When he woke up from anesthesia I fed him.
Today Oliver met his first cow at the Tuesday Market. His reaction was exactly as I suspected it would be. He sat motionless in my arms and stared at the baby cow with a furrowed brow. He studied that calf. He loved that calf. I helped him pet it. He liked the feeling of it's fur. He smiled, though only briefly, and then stared some more, making a few quiet whines as he does when he is trying to understand something.
It was a pleasure to share this moment with Oliver. The past 10 months have been far more challenging than I ever imagined possible and caring for Oliver, let alone myself and my husband, has left little time for the animals that once owned my heart. I still love my animals, and I take good care of them, but it's not the same. I miss the bond I had with them and I hope, that over time, I will regain that special connection as I show and teach Oliver about the wonderful creatures who share our world.
If you had asked me even just one year ago, when I was hugely pregnant, I would have said that having a baby would in no way change how I felt about my animals. Or all animals for that matter. I was SO wrong.
I have always loved animals of all kinds. Wild ones, farm ones, pet ones. It sounds hokey, but I also feel that on some level, I can communicate with animals. Not all animals. Not wild ones. Not even all pet ones. When I was a kid we just had cats and rabbits. My grandmother had a horse that I helped take care of and her cousin, Kenny, kept a cow in the same pasture. I rode the horse bareback in the Berkshire Hills where I grew up. I chipped the ice out of their water tub and carried buckets of fresh water to refill the tub twice a day in the winter. In the fall I walked the bare corn fields bordering our house collecting the dried out ears to feed them for treats over the winter. In the spring and summer I brushed the horse and bathed her. I also brushed the cow. They both had chestnut colored hair, quite the same as the color of my own hair. I didn't know back then that those reddish cows, Herefords, are a beef breed.
I have a vivid memory of the cow, Annie was her name, birthing her twin calves. She was having trouble. One was stuck. Kenny came to help her. He removed his shirt and reached his arm up in her to untangle the long calf legs. He slowly helped ease the babies out. They were dead. He barried them on top of the hill in her pasture where they were born. For weeks afterword he had to bring her hay to her at that spot. She would not leave it. I would walk out to her, pet her, tell her I was sorry. She was sad. You can never convince me that cows don't know sadness. I grew up across the way from a cow farm and every spring when the calves were taken from their mothers, the desperate calls of the cows could be heard all night long for over a week. It was a sound I fell asleep to each year. Sometimes, as a child, it made me cry. I'm fairly certain if I had to listen to those sorrowful moos again, I would cry now too.
Most of the veterinary work I have done has been on small animals - cats and dogs. I have had the opportunity however to assist on a number of farm calls for cows and once got to assist on an abdominal surgery on a calf with a very large hernia. When he woke up from anesthesia I fed him.
Today Oliver met his first cow at the Tuesday Market. His reaction was exactly as I suspected it would be. He sat motionless in my arms and stared at the baby cow with a furrowed brow. He studied that calf. He loved that calf. I helped him pet it. He liked the feeling of it's fur. He smiled, though only briefly, and then stared some more, making a few quiet whines as he does when he is trying to understand something.
It was a pleasure to share this moment with Oliver. The past 10 months have been far more challenging than I ever imagined possible and caring for Oliver, let alone myself and my husband, has left little time for the animals that once owned my heart. I still love my animals, and I take good care of them, but it's not the same. I miss the bond I had with them and I hope, that over time, I will regain that special connection as I show and teach Oliver about the wonderful creatures who share our world.
Monday, July 19, 2010
The Thinker
A lot of people comment on how pensive Oliver is. He has been since conception. Here's the proof:
Rodin's famous "The Thinker" statue
Oliver poses as "The Thinker" in utero around 20 weeks
The truth is, Oliver gets this trait from me. I am ALWAYS thinking. My mind never stops. You might be talking to me, and I am listening, engaged and participating in our conversation...but in some other compartment of my mind I am also still thinking. It could be related to our conversation, or not. It could be a deep and profound thought or a completely shallow and useless thought. I also like to know what other people are thinking. Are they thinking about politics? The weather? What they should wear the next day? That they wish I'd shut up? But you can't just ask people that....unless you're like, bff's.
Sometimes I figure because I always have some thought process going on, everybody else must as well. Apparently this is not the case. I often ask my husband, "What are you thinking about?" and he replies, "Nothing." For a long time I thought he just didn't want to tell me, that he was embarassed or hiding something. I would keep asking and be annoyingly persistent, but the answer was always "Nothing." I now know that sometimes his mind is just turned off. Resting. This is a concept I cannot comprehend.
So...when I see Oliver sitting quietly, appearing to be deep in thought, I feel like there is something so special about him. It's not that he doesn't do the same things that other babies do, it's the intensity and manner with which he does them. Toys generally don't amuse him, nor even interest him for more than a moment. He prefers bigger, more "real" things. It's as if he's aware that there's more to this world, his environment, the people around him, and even himself than what is right there in front of him. On the outside Oliver resembles his father, but on the inside, he's my spitting image.
Rodin's famous "The Thinker" statue
Oliver poses as "The Thinker" in utero around 20 weeks
The truth is, Oliver gets this trait from me. I am ALWAYS thinking. My mind never stops. You might be talking to me, and I am listening, engaged and participating in our conversation...but in some other compartment of my mind I am also still thinking. It could be related to our conversation, or not. It could be a deep and profound thought or a completely shallow and useless thought. I also like to know what other people are thinking. Are they thinking about politics? The weather? What they should wear the next day? That they wish I'd shut up? But you can't just ask people that....unless you're like, bff's.
Sometimes I figure because I always have some thought process going on, everybody else must as well. Apparently this is not the case. I often ask my husband, "What are you thinking about?" and he replies, "Nothing." For a long time I thought he just didn't want to tell me, that he was embarassed or hiding something. I would keep asking and be annoyingly persistent, but the answer was always "Nothing." I now know that sometimes his mind is just turned off. Resting. This is a concept I cannot comprehend.
So...when I see Oliver sitting quietly, appearing to be deep in thought, I feel like there is something so special about him. It's not that he doesn't do the same things that other babies do, it's the intensity and manner with which he does them. Toys generally don't amuse him, nor even interest him for more than a moment. He prefers bigger, more "real" things. It's as if he's aware that there's more to this world, his environment, the people around him, and even himself than what is right there in front of him. On the outside Oliver resembles his father, but on the inside, he's my spitting image.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Here We Go Again
I spent nearly 3 hours weeding in the Community Garden Friday night. Weeding is tedious. It gives one time to think. And I thought...and thought...and thought...and, well, you get the picture.
I read the blogs of several friends and am always inspired by them to keep my own blog. I set this one up in December of last year hoping to make blogging a New Year's resolution. You can see how well that turned out. But after reading this post You Might Think I'm Crazy I have decided to make another go of it. Tamara describes how her "laughter and smiles are being transferred onto time with family" and pain and anger and sadness are deposited in her writings. I carry far to many of these negative emotions around with me, and perhaps if I allow my thoughts and feelings to flow on these pages, I too will reap the benefits of laughter and smiles with my family.
I have two pages of notes and partial writings that I scribbled down in between pulling weeds and wiping sweat off my brow. I was having so many deep and profound thoughts, to me anyway, that I needed to write them down so they wouldn't get lost in the mommy brain void when I sat down to record them. I will save these musings for tomorrow's blog. It will even include pictures. Wow.
I read the blogs of several friends and am always inspired by them to keep my own blog. I set this one up in December of last year hoping to make blogging a New Year's resolution. You can see how well that turned out. But after reading this post You Might Think I'm Crazy I have decided to make another go of it. Tamara describes how her "laughter and smiles are being transferred onto time with family" and pain and anger and sadness are deposited in her writings. I carry far to many of these negative emotions around with me, and perhaps if I allow my thoughts and feelings to flow on these pages, I too will reap the benefits of laughter and smiles with my family.
I have two pages of notes and partial writings that I scribbled down in between pulling weeds and wiping sweat off my brow. I was having so many deep and profound thoughts, to me anyway, that I needed to write them down so they wouldn't get lost in the mommy brain void when I sat down to record them. I will save these musings for tomorrow's blog. It will even include pictures. Wow.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
(A)typical
Typical: Oliver woke up too early this morning.
Atypical: Oliver's diaper leaked overnight soaking the seat padding of his swing.
Typical: Because said swing was "out of order" Oliver did not have a morning nap.
Atypical: Oliver is sleeping in his swing because of a cough which is due to either
a) his reflux
b) teething
c) a cold
d) all of the above
e) some of the above
or
f) none of the above
Typical: We went to the Tuesday morning MotherWoman Postpartum group
Atypical: Oliver had a nice length nap in the car afterwords
Typical: I had to sit in the car waiting for Oliver to wake up from said nap to cash a check because I was stupid enough to choose a bank that only has branches inside a grocery store.
Atypical: Oliver remained content for almost a whole hour in the Ergo while we killed time in Amherst
Typical: We looked in the Toy Box for anything that might make Oliver happy
Atypical: We went to the baby-friendly showing of The Babies
Typical: Oliver was clingy yet wiggly and totally uninterested in the movie
Atypical: Oliver fell asleep during said movie while drinking a bottle
Typical: Oliver had a mega coughing fit in his sleep and projectile vomited all over himself and me
Atypical: Oliver held still while I changed his wet clothes
Typical: Oliver fell asleep on the way home
Atypical: Oliver stayed asleep for 30 minutes after we got home
Typical: Oliver woke up cranky and cried until bedtime
Atypical: Tonight I actually got around to a few things I've been meaning to do
Typical: I have many more things to do
Atypical: Tomorrow night I get to have a night out, taking a class on needle felting!
Typical: I am exhausted and going to sleep to dream about crafting.
Atypical: Oliver's diaper leaked overnight soaking the seat padding of his swing.
Typical: Because said swing was "out of order" Oliver did not have a morning nap.
Atypical: Oliver is sleeping in his swing because of a cough which is due to either
a) his reflux
b) teething
c) a cold
d) all of the above
e) some of the above
or
f) none of the above
Typical: We went to the Tuesday morning MotherWoman Postpartum group
Atypical: Oliver had a nice length nap in the car afterwords
Typical: I had to sit in the car waiting for Oliver to wake up from said nap to cash a check because I was stupid enough to choose a bank that only has branches inside a grocery store.
Atypical: Oliver remained content for almost a whole hour in the Ergo while we killed time in Amherst
Typical: We looked in the Toy Box for anything that might make Oliver happy
Atypical: We went to the baby-friendly showing of The Babies
Typical: Oliver was clingy yet wiggly and totally uninterested in the movie
Atypical: Oliver fell asleep during said movie while drinking a bottle
Typical: Oliver had a mega coughing fit in his sleep and projectile vomited all over himself and me
Atypical: Oliver held still while I changed his wet clothes
Typical: Oliver fell asleep on the way home
Atypical: Oliver stayed asleep for 30 minutes after we got home
Typical: Oliver woke up cranky and cried until bedtime
Atypical: Tonight I actually got around to a few things I've been meaning to do
Typical: I have many more things to do
Atypical: Tomorrow night I get to have a night out, taking a class on needle felting!
Typical: I am exhausted and going to sleep to dream about crafting.
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