Shelley's Case

Ch-ch-ch-changes

If someone had said to me a couple of years back that I would willingly go from living with my husband and 2.5 year-old in a three bedroom, two and a half bath 1700 square foot, two story house to move into a 750 square foot loft in a converted warehouse with said husband and 2.5 year-old, I would have thought they were absolutely freaking nuts. 

And yet...I have. And I love it.  I don't understand why more people live like this. 

More to come. 

Gratitude

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  It isn't commercial, it isn't hyped, and it's a relatively low-stress meal with friends and family.  I can wear my Mayflower necklace without feeling like a snob.  It's a day off!  Who doesn't love that?

This year - which has been one of the hardest ever - I am grateful for:

• Peach.  She grows in maturity and communication every day, and every day, she is just that much more fun to be around. I especially like that she is out of diapers and that she doesn't fight being dropped off at school.  Those two things alone have given me back an hour of every day!
• Matthew. Amazing to think that it's been 18 1/2 years since I met my best friend - and almost 17 years since we were married.  It makes me feel old to write that...but in a good way.  He is the most stand-up and honorable person I've ever met, and I'm lucky to have him in my life.
• My community of friends, in real life and online.  I love you guys!  Thank you for writing comments, sending supportive messages, taking me out to lunch, and generally making sure I stayed human during the last year.  
• Hats.  I love hats! And, um, red cashmere-lined kid gloves, size 6 1/2.  They're the only part of me that's currently a size 6, and they're fun.  And warm.  And they go with black or brown.  
• And, as always, that John Howland caught that topsail halyard during the storm, so that I could be here in the first place.

New kind of normalcy

Since Matthew's mid-September surgery, we're getting back to a sort of normalcy.  The hospital bed is gone from the house.  The shower chair isn't used in the shower, but has been converted to a special place for Peach to sit when brushing her teeth.  My sister in law, who came here to help out for a week, returned to Nevada today.  (Unfortunately, Peach never warmed to her - perhaps it was cultural, or her accent, I don't know. It would have been a lot easier on me if she had, but ah, well.  It was nice having Elina visiting, in any case.) 

A Wednesday night trip to urgent care revealed that the feeling like I'd been swallowing ground glass was, in fact, an infection, and after five days on Zithromax, I am all better.  I'd had that thing for weeks, and it had seriously run me down. I actually feel human today!

Matthew still limps, still has a lot of pain, and still has to resolve the upper back issues. (Recap: he had surgery on his upper back in January, a lengthy recovery, then back to work.  He fell in July, and we had to wait for federal comp to approve the surgery on the lower back he had in September.  Unfortunately, the fall made the upper back situation much worse - we will hopefully find out how much worse this week.) 

But we're a unit again.  After months of being the primary (and often only) caregiver, it's so wonderful to hear Peach ask for Daddy to read stories, Daddy to hold her, Daddy to snuggle. (Not just because it's a break for me, but because there was a long period of time when she was quite distant from Matthew. That made my heart ache.)  

Tonight we all hung out in our living room.  I read a novel, Eden bounced and danced to the "country chick" playlist I was listening to, and Matthew tweaked the media computer.  We ate dinner, quietly at home.  It was exactly the sort of ordinary evening that we haven't had in so very long - it was lovely.  I could use a lot more evenings like this one!

Not created equally

There's a very well-written article about how National Guard soldiers are shafted on GI Bill benefits on Truthdig -- by a name some of you might find familiar. 

To the three of you still reading this blog

We are all alive.  Peach has some lovely gastrointestinal thing that has turned me off of chocolate frosting forever.  My only free time comes after the screaming fit that is putting her down for a nap.  (Thankfully, the naps have been long.  The nights, however, involve lots of screaming at 1-4 AM.  I am 36, Matthew is 47, and WE ARE TOO OLD FOR THIS.)  Also thankfully, I haven't gotten whatever it is that got Peach - although I have enough of a hard time staying home when I'm sick that staying home when someone else is sick is a bit maddening!

After spending almost a week in Nevada with family, we came home to normalcy - which is to say, work chaos and feeling infinitely behind.  Two forced days "off" were not on my radar, and I have come to the conclusion that it is infinitely more difficult to stay home with a kid than go to work. Seriously. Does it make me a bad mom that I would rather review discovery than do "ring around the rosey" until I'm sick to my stomach? 

It distresses me that this blog is becoming an apology piece, interspersed with pictures.  Sorry I haven't posted, sorry I have nothing interesting to say, sorry I can't talk about work, sorry for all the apologies. 

The apologies out of the way, here are some pictures:

Our trip to Reno was Peach's first airplane trip.  I was a wreck about this, because she hates loud noises - the vacuum, the garage door opener, and the time we watched a helicopter take off?  A NIGHTMARE.  So I'd prepped her with books and even though I am a member of the "pop a xanex before takeoff" club, I managed to feign excitement for her.  And it worked!  She loved it.  We had a hell of a time keeping her in the seat we had to pay for (because she'd turned 2 the previous week), but heck, she had fun and there was very minimal screaming, mostly to do with trying to keep her in her seat.

Most of our pictures of her on the plane are like this one - the back of her head while she watches out the window.

While in Reno, we had the third of Peach's three birthday parties.  Yeah.  I went from not wanting any to having three - one at daycare, a casual one with neighbors (Matthew was the orchestrator of this - he bought a cake all on his own), and one with my family in Reno.  All of them were a lot of fun, but it was so neat to see her interacting with my family.  For example, she'd never met either of my brothers, but had chatted with Phil via Skype.  When she first got out of the car in front of my sister's house, Phil came around the side of the car - and as soon as her feet were on the ground, she ran up to him and hugged him, with no prompting on my part.  Auntie Sarah was incredibly patient and wonderful with her and thought of a million ways to entertain her that never would have occurred to me, Uncle John fed her pizza, and she loved all the attention.  I loved the break.

She had an epic tantrum the day of her party, but hey, what toddler doesn't?  It meants she took a nap and I got to open her presents...which was actually pretty fun for me.  Most unusual gift: toilet seat with a toddler-sized seat that fits up into the lid with a magnetic catch - no idea what the TSA folks thought about it, but it has already made the potty training much more pleasant.  Loudest gifts: from my brothers, naturally.  Everyone was so kind and thoughtful to Peach, which was a delight for me, since my family is so far away.  My brothers had never met her and my father hadn't seen her since she was about a week old.  My sister hadn't seen her in over a year.  It was fun.

The point of the trip, getting my brother John married off, was accomplished with very few snags.  Peach fell asleep in the car about 20 minutes from the Squaw Valley Chapel - naturally.  She made it through the ceremony with only some squirming, but we couldn't stay too long.  For those who might remember my sister's wedding, or the stories therefrom, almost three years ago?  Let's just say that my parents GOT ALONG NICELY.  I have pictures of that, too, in case no one believes me, but would rather not risk a jinx by posting them.  Instead, I leave you with this:

Which is pretty much how I feel after having not gotten a full night's sleep in...um...I can't remember when.  Here's hoping her nap lasts long enough for me to get a few Zs in myself.

I'm an auntie!

The C-section went great!  I haven't gotten to speak with my sis yet (I am finishing up a sleep study - ugh), but can't wait.  The "little" guy was over 7 pounds - pretty darn big for my family. 

Not an auntie quite yet - but close.

Sister Sarah has been in labor for days, and is finally being prepped for a C-section now.  I am in the middle of a second sleep study, but I am just hoping that sleep gets interrupted ASAP for good news!

Please think good thoughts!

It looks like sister Sarah is in labor with her little boy!!!!

My first mother's day

First, the negative bits: I have always hated Mother's Day.  I think it's a cheesy, made-up, commercial holiday that preys on guilt, and I end up feeling manipulated.  My feeling is that if your relationship with your mother isn't great for 364 days out of the year, a card and flowers on the 365th isn't going to fix it.  (And while maybe in a few years I'll want someone to take my kid away for a day, I'm not really sure I like the message that conveys, either.)  The overtone that Mother's Day is a day for the other half of the parental outfit to act as the dominant caregiver also bugs me.  I mean, shouldn't he be doing his part the rest of the year, too? 

So this is where I was when Mother's Day rolled around.  I announced to Matthew that while I think it's a cheesy, made-up, commercial holiday that preys on guilt, a gift was not optional, and that I was partial to the idea of a digital picture frame so that I could have an all-Peach, all the time slideshow.  And I also decided I was going to take the Peach to the zoo, just the two of us, because I wanted Mother's Day in our household to be about spending quality time, alone, with the Peach.  Maybe next year she and I can go to the beach or something similar. 

Anyway, that was the plan.  We rolled up to the zoo at 9:12, and it was cold, windy, and threatening rain.  For an hour I tried rolling her right up to the viewing spots -- within inches of some animals -- and took her out of the stroller, pointed, cajoled - but no luck.  She was having none of the zoo.  Finally, just as it was starting to rain, we left.  It was a nice trip for me - with few people around and crappy weather, the animals were very interested in us - but not so much for the Peach. 

At home, Matthew was sleeping.  He'd caught some virus from the Peach, and was sleeping it off.  (He  spent most of the day sleeping, then went to work this morning at 4:30 because he was wide awake.)    She didn't go down for a morning nap at all, but finally crashed at 12:30.  This was the amazing on-off Mactyre sleep day, which went something like this:

05:30: Matthew up with Peach.
07:30: Peach asleep, Shelley awake.
08:30: Peach awake.   
09:00: Matthew asleep.
12:30: Peach asleep.
13:30: Shelley asleep. 
14:00: Matthew awake with Peach.
15:30: Peach asleep. 
16:30: Shelley awake.
17:00: Peach awake.
18:00: Matthew asleep.
19:30: Matthew awake.
21:00: Peach asleep.
22:30: Shelley asleep.
23:00: Matthew asleep.

Productive, no.  Restful, yes.  Needless to say, this came on the heels of Peach's latest daycare virus.  Sigh.

Spoke too soon

Little Girl* did not stop vomiting.  I ended up calling her physician and under advice, have only given her very small amounts of food at a time. (When she'd eat -- lots of times she refused to eat at all.)  At five this morning, she woke up ravenous, but I only let her eat two ounces, because I really didn't want to be thrown up again. Selfish?  Probably.

Matthew woke up in the night with a similar (but not identical) gastrointestinal bug -- he suspects food poisoning.  So when Little Girl wasn't waking me up with fussing, I was waking up because I was worrying about Matthew, who was also up and down all night.

I didn't entirely escape food poisoning, but I don't seem to be suffering as badly.  Good thing, too, because even with the aches, sore throat, stuffy/runny nose, and exhaustion, I'm the most functional member of the household right now. 

I have a scheduled client call at 9 AM.  Right now, I'm just shooting to get through it so that I can collapse on the couch and drink the pedialyte that Peach hated.  And feel completely sorry for myself.  And maybe take a nap.  If I'm feeling really decadent, I might give in to the extremely bad (cranky, annoyed, frustrated) mood I've been fighting off. 

Blech.

*Another of Peach's nicknames, but one that just Matthew and I use (I think).  It's inherited from our menagerie days, when we had gazillions (OK, five) of ferrets at a time, and pronouns just didn't do the trick for distinguishing them.  Any female ferret we had was Little Girl, as compared to (I guess) the border collie and me - the only other females in the house.  For some reason, we only had one female ferret at any given point, but oodles (OK, four at the most at any given time) of males.

State of the House

Matthew: recovering from sprained ankle and using cane, House, MD-style. 

Peach: projectile vomiting, followed by dry heaving and bile vomit every half hour. 

Me:  Painful sore throat and generalized achiness, headache, and generalized feeling sorry for self.  Annoyed that cashmere sweater is covered in baby vomit. 

Laundry: Finishing up big load of baby clothes, nearly all of which were blanket and outfit changes from baby vomit. 

Dishes: 36 hours behind. 

Norris: Happy, but annoyed he was fed late.

UPDATE: Matthew stayed up all night with the Peach, who has finally stopped vomiting and is sleeping peacefully. (So, for that matter, is Matthew.)  My throat is still killing me, I still ache, and I'm clearly still feeling sorry for myself.   There is nary a bottle of Chloraseptic to be found in the house - leaving me with the old standby, salt water gargle.  Blech.  I suspect I'll be heading out to the store before long. 

Congrats to Phil!

Brother Phil has been accepted into an IT baccalaureate program in Finland - one of 33 accepted out of 3600+ applicants.  Go Phil! 

Week(s) in Review

The last couple of weeks have been a mad juggling act.  The time I spend with the Peach is precious and wonderful, but exhausting (just like working a desk job, I always wonder why it's so physically draining).

She's straining the feet in her 3 month sleepers, but the 6 month sleepers are still a bit too long.  Her head is massive -- none of the baby hats in the 3-9 month range fit her.  I managed to find a cute pseudo-trapper hat at New Seasons that should fit. Fortunately, we don't have to worry so much about the cold, just the wet.

In other news...

• High blood pressure and a headache do NOT a good jog make.
  • New blood pressure med is working splendidly, but the water retention associated with it?  Not so good. 
• I was given a thrombophilia panel by my perinatalogist a few weeks back.  Two of the results (of the 9 tests) came back showing I have two genetic mutations (one is heterozygous, meaning one bad copy and one good copy, and the other is homozygous, meaning two bad copies). A lot of people have one or the other, but usually not both, and most people with the second mutation usually only have one bad copy of the gene.  Bonus for me, right?!  Well, I guess it IS nice to know -- I get to go to a hematologist now for more tests and they'll be able to monitor me to make sure I don't throw a clot -- but doesn't explain the blood pressure problem.
  
  • So long, cheap life insurance...
• The Peach and I spent seven hours (!!) together yesterday (her 4 month birthday) going to (my) appointments and running errands.  She was such a trooper!
  
• A sex abuse case I drafted the trial memo and jury instructions for returned the highest damages EVER in the county I live in for a PI plaintiff.
• Lugging the Peach around (13 pounds) in her carseat (7 pounds) has strained and inflamed my right rotator cuff.  Normal people can take ibuprofen to reduce inflammation and help the pain....but I can't take anti-inflammatories. I took an Ultram (really for my migraines) but it still hurts.
  
  • Naturally this happens when I am starting to play the cello again. 
  • Also hurting: right knee, neck. 
  • Itching: spider bite on my stomach (!) -- it's getting cool and the spiders are sneaking inside.  And biting me.
• I have a client who is insisting on going to hearing on a guardianship matter even though I've advised her  against it, for various reasons.  Worse: the hearing is set for late next week and she isn't communicating with me now -- making it awfully hard to prepare.  Sigh. 
• The Peach has started reaching and grabbing relatively small objects in front of her.  It's been so fun watching her go from randomly batting her arms to grabbing things she accidentally touched to this movement with intent. 
• The Peach also likes to sit up.  When she's reclined (in a car seat, or Papasan, or swing) she tries to sit up, and she loves to be pulled into a sitting position. 
• I've decided that I don't want to travel to Nevada in December with a 6 month old.  I know it's doable, but I don't want to do it anywhere near the holidays.  Maybe in March.
• I realized this week that on December 30, Matthew and I will have been married 15 years.
• The Peach did her first massive projectile vomit yesterday afternoon -- about five ounces of formula all over her, me, the couch, and the floor.  Ugh. 

A flaw in Geni

Apparently Geni doesn't think anyone can trace families back past 30-odd generations, so it tells me that Duncan I of Scotland is my grandfather's thirtieth great grandfather.  I can tell you all about how cousins are removed from one another, but trying to calculate my relationship to Duncan makes my head hurt.  A lot. 

Buy this week's issue of The Nation

Particularly if you followed my brother's progress on my blog during the time he was deployed -- you'll get to learn the things I wasn't able to blog about then.  And look online, too, for a really gorgeous picture of him. 

In way and manner following

One of my favorite things to do as a lawyer is draft wills.  I get to ask super-nosy questions and people cheerfully tell me the answers (when they probably ought to slap me).  So it was fun to discover this evening morning a will drafted by my great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather, William Faris (1734-1818).  (Since Matthew started our family tree on geni.com, I have been busily filling in my family tree, so that someday I can present Eden with it. Geni is a LOT of fun -- probably best described as genealogy meets MySpace.)

William Faris's will goes like this:

In the name of God Amen I William Faris of the County of Ohio and State of Virginia being weak in body but sound in Mind and Memory, call to Mind my Mortality, and that it is appointed for all men once to die and come to Judgment - do make and ordain this my last will and testament in way and manner following, and first I bequeath my Soul to Almighty God that gave it me trusting that (through the merits and intercession of Jesus Christ) I shall receive the same again and my body to the earth from whence it was taken to be buried with Christian decent burial and so to such worldly substance as it hath pleased God to bestow upon me,

My will is that all my Just debts and funeral charges be fully paid, out of my moveable estate, and as to my Real estate my will is that my land be sold to the best advantage as soon as may be convenient, or as it can be sold at its value, and for that purpose I allow the space of three years if it cannot be done sooner or longer time if it cannot be sold in Said time to advantage and the rent after my Executors hereafter named is satisfied for their trouble to be equally divided among my four children hereafter to be named, and when my land is sold my will is that the price of it together with my Moveable estate that will not be hereafter mentioned, be equally divided between my children John, Adam, Mary and William, with this exception that John and Adam shall have one hundred dollars each of them more than my other two children and to be paid before any distribution of my estate be made and the remainder to be divided as above stated.

Lastly my will is that my sons John and Adam Faris be Joint Executors of this my last will and testament, renouncing and making void all former wills and testaments confirming this and this only to be my last will and testament,

In witness whereof I hereunto Subscribe my name and affix my seal this 4th day of October eighteen hundred and fourteen


William Faris Seal
Signed sealed and Acknowledged in the presence of
William Faris
David Faris
Samuel D. Faris

I do certify that the above will is a true Copy from the original which was proven in Court at September Term 1818 by the oaths of David Faris and Samuel D. Faris subscribing witnesses thereto & ordered to be recorded. Teste Wm Chapline Jr C.O.C

More proof I married the right guy

I've now gained 10 pounds since the pregnancy started, which is fine; I've been told I will have to gain more and I don't expect to have a lot of say in the matter, anyway. The weight I haven't gained but was able to recycle has migrated to different parts of my body, too, so my limbs are thinner than ever, but oh, this belly, and have I mentioned it takes four alpha-numeric characters to write my bra size instead of three? Friend Robyn pointed out my bra size seems to be stuttering.*

Shelley (in other room): So...I put this shirt on because it is big and comfy.
Matthew: Oh?
Shelley (enters room in shirt that is now neither big nor comfy and sighs).
Matthew (frowns):  What happened to the shirt?
Shelley: Nothing happened to the shirt.
Matthew (blankly, then finally getting it): Oh.

*40DD.  Yes, that's before nursing. Anyone who brings a milking stool to the baby shower is in deep, deep doo-doo.

Temporarily AWOL but reporting for duty

My body is starting to betray me.  I know it's just temporary, but it's frustrating.  Last week was a busy week: lots of more-than-full days with lots of different tasks.  But heck, I can handle it, right?  I have the luxury of working at home (at night) when I need to, right?

Only if my body lets me, anyway. 

I got the big things done.  But between the pregnancy and the remnants of the sinus infection/ongoing allergies, I can't push myself, or I crash.  It's maddening.  I'm slowly settling cases and finding new attorneys for my remaining dom/rel clients, which is helping: I can concentrate on my other work.  But there's still so much to do.  I went from having to make one court appearance last week to three.  Sigh. 

And let's just say that after six months of easy pregnancy, things have gotten a bit harder.  On the irrationality scale, my hormones are whacked. I can't remember a time (since, say, 15) when I was this on edge.

Friday was the worst: I was extraordinarily uncomfortable (imagine having two bowling balls in your stomach rolling around and around and putting pressure on all of your other organs) and had to work my ass off to get something done in time for the courier to pick up and file in a neighboring county.  I called the department in the neighboring county to make sure there was not going to be any additional fee for filing the documents, and was assured there was not.   

Needless to say, I was not happy when I came home Friday night (around 7) and learned from voicemail that the department didn't accept the filings because there was no additional fee accompanying the documents.  This isn't fatal (it's not like it's federal court) and it's not even that much of a big deal because it's easily remediable.  But it was the end of a long, draining week and I had no reserves left.  I threw the headset across the room.   (It broke. I fixed it with superglue.)

This is probably why I spent most of Saturday sleeping (that and the benedryl I had to take in order to breathe -- and the fact I had to sleep sitting up on Friday, on the couch, in order to keep breathing all night). And that Saturday slothfulness is why I spent most of Sunday being superwoman - gardening, organizing, cleaning - and why I'm so freaking tired right now.

Gemini is in a growth spurt, which isn't helping: in the last four or so days, I've gained three or four  pounds.  This would shock me, except that back when my mother was speaking to me, she mentioned she tended to gain very little weight except for one month of each pregnancy, when she would gain ten. The doctors would freak out each time, but that was just the way it worked.

To add insult to injury, Matthew is home with either food poisoning or some other intestinal woe -- and after feeling a bit smug that I'd escaped it, I'm starting to sense that I haven't.  Nice.  I guess I'll be exercising that work-from-home thing today, too. 

For those of you who prayed or thought good thoughts for my little brother Phil when he was serving in Iraq, please spare another prayer or good thought for him now: he's off to Afghanistan, though not for very long this time.  I hope.  It just about broke my heart to put the family-member-in-service flag back up in my window this weekend. 

 

Matthew vs. Tri-Met

Background: Matthew takes MAX into Portland each morning to work.  (For out-of-towners, MAX is a light rail system in Portland and the burbs, part of the Tri-Met transportation empire, er, government agency.  We're fans, usually.)  The way the ticket thing works on MAX is that you can hop on and off, and you only have to show a ticket if an inspector asks you to while on the train.  If you don't, then there's a ticket for no ticket.  Usually you ride without seeing an inspector for weeks.   

More background: The inspectors aren't always pleasant.  Matthew gets an annual pass gratis from his federal employer, and he has it right behind the federal ID he has to wear to get in and out of his building. 

The morning email from Matthew (in addition to having not fed the dog yet and a smoke alarm was chirping):

They did a ticket check this morning; I refused to show the inspector my identification until he showed me his. He became belligerent and started to point out his jump suit and safety vest. He started to tell me that he wasn't going to show his ID until I produced mine and I explained that unless I was sure that he represented Trimet, that I wasn't going to produce my badge. He finally presented it but complained that it wasn't required.

So, at least I made one person's day.

Actually, I'm guessing that he entertained the entire car.  Good for him!

Finding a balance

I over-engineer, over-plan, and over-organize everything.  The joke in my birth family is that before the Chrystals do anything, we read a book about it first.  (In fact, when my sister wanted to find me one day right after we announced we were moving to Portland, she went to the bookstore and found us among the guide books.)  Before Matthew and I picked dog breeds over ten years ago -- Border Collies and Malinois -- we read books, we went to dog shows, we visited dozens of breeders and checked out dozens of breeds. 

But Matthew is still more rational, more relaxed, than I.  While our house was under construction, I would sit, captivated by the plans, organizing and decorating in my head until it was completely worked out.  My kitchen is set up so that no dishes or silverware are stored more than a cabinet or two away from the dishwasher -- I can empty the dishwasher in the time it takes for me to microwave a beverage and not move from one position.  My (part of the) closet is organized by color, even, not that this makes it any easier to figure out what to wear (although it cuts down on the hunt times). 

Strangely, moronically, I've been trying to plan my post-baby life from the security of 24 weeks gestation.  Intellectually I realize this is a waste of time.  Emotionally, though, I keep wanting to find some sort of finality, to have "a plan."  I always have to have a Plan, even if the Plan changes frequently.  The Plan is my security blanket. 

Our Plan had always been that Matthew would be the stay at home parent.  Alas, he is the main breadwinner and the procurer of federal benefits, so that isn't going to happen.   When we found out little Gemini was on the way, we (I) went into high gear planning: I stopped taking on new dom/rel clients, I ramped up my contract work, and, as of now, plan on taking only a short break before continuing to work on contract projects at home.    

Dahlia Lithwick has a wonderful essay in Ms. JD about balance, and it's given me quite a bit more food for thought.   The Plan might need some more adjustments.