Jessica's Blog

I wrote earlier that Hubby was being attentive to Big Boy's eye infection.  Hubby is sure to give Big Boy two of the three doses of eye medicine each day.  They have a little routine of it.  Big Boy lies on the couch or bed, and tells Hubby which eye to put the drops in.  It is so sweet and tender to see.  It is their thing.  Hubby makes it fun for Big Boy.

Tonight at bedtime, Big Boy wanted Hubby to stay with him on his bed.  They were speaking softly to each other, lying side by side.  Big Boy's voice was a little loud, and he complained of Hubby "always talking too softly."  Clearly Big Boy's ears are still clearing from the infection.

Then Big Boy says, "When is mommy going to go downstairs?"
"She's staying with Honey Girl right now." (I was humming her a lullaby and she was asleep... jerking from time to time, but falling deeper into sleep)
"Will Buck follow her down the stairs?"  Big Boy asked.

I asked if Big Boy wanted time alone with Daddy.  Hubby re-asked the question to Big Boy and Big Boy nodded his head.  I carefully kissed Honey Girl's sleepy forehead and made my way off the bed (notice I did not say "hopped off the bed"?)

I smiled at this scene.  They were talking about school, about dinosaur counting connect the dots, about which teachers asked Big Boy where he had been the last two days.  They were speaking softly with each other, Big Boy was playing with Hubby's hair.  My heart just swelled. 

I can't imagine anything that makes Hubby so happy as these moments.  Caring for his babies.  Hubby's been working so hard since starting at his new job.  Recently he chose to get home in time for kid bedtime.  Since he's made that choice, I have watched the kids re-warm to their daddy in a wonderful way.  Tonight it went to a whole new level.  Big Boy had saved the re-telling of his day for his daddy and wanted time alone with his daddy.  I was over the moon.

Here's to you Hubby... you are such an awesome daddy.  Especially now that all I want to do is walk the dog and sleep in a pregnant stupor! 

I had a dentist appointment today!  I got to lie back and chat it up with Theresa the hygienist about things.  For an hour!  Yeah, sure.. there's some scraping, and buffing.  But truly... it is kind of like going to the spa.  I mean, you leave the kids at home.  You're in a nice quiet room with an attendant there to ensure you look your best when you leave.  There's usually soft or some fun nostalgic music playing.  It is nowhere near as painful as waxing or a facial (at points... ) it's about as good as being threaded.  You chat with who's helping you... it's relaxing.

I even had a bonus.  Next door is the chiropractor friend I used to work with.  I always stop in to say hello when I have a dentist check up.  Today she wasn't crazy busy, so we got a chance to catch up on each other.  She didn't know I pregnant.  ha ha ha.  Then I told her I've been bad and hadn't been adjusted in months.  She happily adjusted me and AAWWWWWWW.. niiiiiice!  I can breathe again ( ribcage adjustment), I can hear again (upper occiput adjusted).  I'm so loose in pregnancy she said she felt like she was cheating.. and OH MY MY YEEEEESSSSSS!  RIGHT THERE, JUST LIKE THAT!!!!on the Pelvic adjustment.  I also had the lovely endorphin rush to buzz on for about a half hour while enjoying my time at the spa... I mean, dentist.

Stay at home parents out there.. y'know what I mean.  Any appointment where you can't bring the kids, and all you have to do is lie there and not experience much pain.... is a spa date.  Heck, there was even a 15 minute drive on either side of the appointment.

Can I get a witness?

I have a friend who had a mammogram done and told the tech "it's ok.. take your time.. "  to look at results and had a quiet peaceful meditative moment of deep breathing while in a paper dress in a cold room surrounded by equipment that scares most to pieces.

ah, what a special morning.

Yes, Big Boy does have pink eye.. but that's not all!  He has an ear infection too!  good to know his boogery nose and cough won't feel lonely in infecting his body.  Hubby took him to the doctor this AM.  I had a dentist appointment.  Doctor says he can go back to school tomorrow.  I'm thinkin'.... naaaaa..... I mean, if he got worn down enough to get this sick.. more than one day is in order to move him along.  Especially is he's swimming in an anti-biotic potion in his tummy and eyeballs.

I texted Hubby on his cell yesterday while he was out to let him know I thought Big Boy might have pink eye.  Hubby was going to drop everything to take him to the ER.  I didn't have the same sense of urgency.  Because it was a Sunday, I decided to call the local pediatric urgent care unit and ask them what they thought.  The nurse on the line agreed with me that if the eyes weren't "goopy and crusty" just yet.. we could safely wait until the next day for him to see his normal doc.  I re-texted Hubby that is was not an urgent matter.

When Hubby got home, he took great care in looking into Big Boy's eyes.  He seemed pretty concerned.  We talked about pink eye going around the kids' schools.  He says coworkers have also had it and their kids too.  Our Silicon Valley epidemic of the month.

I started washing my hands every time I passed a sink.

During bath time, Hubby noticed that Big Boy's eyes started to goop.  Warm Water, wash, blot... toss washcloth into hamper to be washed with bleach.  Glorious.  I was in the process of giving Honey Girl quite the cool new coif.

At bedtime Big Boy got his lotion for his head, cough/cold medicine for his cough/cold.  I talked to him about his pink eye, and how we would take him to the doctor in the morning.  I took time to explain to him that his eyes will likely be goopy and yucky when he wakes up, and to not be scared by this.  Just call mom and dad and we'll gently wash away the goop.  The goop just might be so much goop that he might have trouble opening the eyes, but don't worry, just call us, and we'll help out.  He understood and did his best to not rub at his eyes.

Through the evening, Hubby was seeming noticeably attentive.  Beyond his usual awesome daddy self.  After putting Boy Boy down, he remembered aloud what it was like to wake up and not be able to open his eyes.  He seemed happy that I had taken the time to explain to Big Boy what was going on, and how we'd help him get better soon. 

Okay, let me go back a piece here.

Hubby has a scar that runs  down his nose from the inside of his left eye down for about an inch or two.  He got this scar from a surgery when he was about seven years old to correct a permanently plugged/ scarred due to chronic infection tear duct.  They put shunts in, or some such.  He eye was chronically infected as a little guy.  The explanations about these chronic infections are different from either of his parents.  We'll never know if the infections were preventable, improperly treated, inevitable, or what.  In the end, Hubby has a scar and memories of not being able to open his eyes in the morning due to crusty infected eyes.  These are not good memories.  This was the first I'd heard about them in great detail.

As a parent, a little spark goes off when your child gets an illness that charged your childhood.  Big Boy is going to be just peachy, no doubt.  Hubby took him over to the ped's office this AM after walking the dog.  They had no appointment, but I suggested going "walk-in" just because... well, you can't even get in on the phone on a Monday morning, and they could make the appointment and go back later if need be.  Hubby told me later that the nurse was not pleased about the walking in.  He also said that if Big Boy wasn't going to get in quickly, he would have taken Big Boy to the ER to get faster service.  Hubby wanted this eye cared for.  pronto. immediately. yesterday.  They got in just fine.  Bog Boy chatted up his doc as he usually does.. telling her about school, about my gym, about pretty much anything that comes to mind.  She smiled and gave lots of "Oh"s and "uh-huh"s while checking his eyes and ears and lungs....  she rocks.

Big Boy is so lucky to have such an awesome daddy.  I am so lucky to have a husband who takes such good care of us.

And yes, I think I'm coming down with something too.  fuck.  On we go.

Big Boy is sick.  Boogery, coughing, fever.. and now I think pink eye has caught him today. Yup, it's going around, with notices at both kids' schools.  I'll take him in tomorrow.  I checked with urgent care and they agreed.. if his eyes aren't crusty or gooped up, it can wait til tomorrow with someone he knows and trusts.  Yay, Dr. Bezecny.

But now.. I'm asking him to sanitize his hands, please don't rub at his eyes and touch stuff.

shyeah... as if that ever really helps.

please oh please don't let us get boogery eyes too!  I **really*** am not in the mood for pink eye at this time.  I'm too busy nesting to stop for icky ucky eyeballs and drops.

worth looking at... food for thought.

This is NOT my story!!!  It came from a friend and was too funny to not post:

WAX is not your friend!

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal - The Epilady, scissors, razors, Nair.., and now...the wax.

My night began as any other normal weeknight.  Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids.  I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours:

      "Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet."

So, I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom.  It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off.
No muss, no fuss. how hard can it be?  I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out.    (YA THINK!?!)

So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ("Cold Wax", yeah...right!)  I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull.

It works! OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad.  I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me!  I am She-ra, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.

With my next strip I move North. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship.  I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the one strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering half of my *hoo hoo* and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek ( Yes it was a long strip ) I inhale deeply and brace myself...RRRRIIIIPPP!!!!!!!

    I'm blind!!!!!! Blinded from the pain!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    (Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull half the strip.)

      CRAP!!!

      Another deep breath and...

      RRRIIPP!!!

Everything is swirly and spotted. I think I might pass out...must stay conscious...  Do I hear crashing drums???  Breathe, breathe... OK, back to normal.

I want to see my trophy-a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There's no hair on it.

      Where is the hair???

      WHERE IS THE WAX!!!!!?????

Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet.  I see the hair.  Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet? I know I need to do something.  So I put my foot down.

      DANG!!!

      (I hear the slamming of a cell door.)

      My *Hoo-Hoo*???  Sealed shut!!

      My Butt???  Sealed shut!!

I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself, " Please don't let me get the urge to poop. My head might pop off!!"

      What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!!!

I'll run the hottest water I can stand in the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right???

      WRONG!!!

I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than used to torture prisoners of war or sterize surgical equipment - I sit.  Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water. Which by the way, doesn't melt cold wax.

So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!!

God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!  I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good converstaion starter~ "So, my Butt and my Hoo Hoo are glued together to
the bottom of the tub!!"

There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking cheeks or hoo hoo?"

She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! RIGHT!!!  I should be the joke of someone else's night.

While we go through various solutions, I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor.  Nothing feels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!!  By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.

My friend is still talking to me when I finally see my saving grace... the lotion they give you to remove excess wax.  What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and...

      "OH...MY...GOD!!!!!!!!"

The scream probably woke the kids and scared the hell out of my friend.  It's sooooo painful, but I really don't care. IT WORKS!!! It works!!! I get a hearty congratulations from my friend and she hangs up.

I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair....

      THE HAIR IS STILL THERE...  ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!

So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now.  Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.

Send this on to other ladies who need a laugh and who can really appreciate this horrible event!!!

Send this on to the men you know so they truly know what pain there is in being a woman!!!

I just performed a virtual knee replacement surgery in preparation for Grandma's Surgery coming up.  It was quite informative... In college Bio I got to watch a hip replacement surgery, talk to an orthopedic surgeon and play with the cement used to fuse the prosthetic to the bone.  This was nowhere near as gruesome an educational endeavour, and I learned a lot.

http://www.edheads.org/activities/knee/

The other day, Hubby did this super sweet thing.  In the midst of our crazy day, he told me he heard a song that made him think of me.

Oh!

So suh-weet!  It was this wonderfully romantic, meaningful song by BenFolds Five about being the luckiest guy in the world for just being able to see my face every day.

awww......

I know!  So we smiled at each other... it was like one of those old "Cosby Shows" when Cliff and Claire get all cutsie on the couch over some old jazz tune.  Yeah, Hubby is like that.

So the other night I was surfing through songs in our itunes library and itunes store.  See, a friend is putting together a routine and I wanted to give a good song suggestion for a bondage/pole deal for a competition. *wink*.  It was fun!  But there I was... and I came across a song that made me think of Hubby.  A song I LOVE and when i listen to it once, I listen to it three times.

I pulled off the headphones, started the track over and handed him the phones with the coy grin to meaningful smile of, "And this song makes me think of YOU!"

it was Macy Gray's "Caligula" (warning explicit lyrics).  If you don't know the song, can't help you... find it your self... but needless to say.  It's silly, raunchy, sexy, lots of double entendre and not the kind of tune you could listen to with the kids in tow. Killer Beat... would be great for a different kind of dance routine.  here's the refrain:

"I could not believe it

Hey what's your name?
Beau doh doh dah
He's something like my favorite movie
Beau doh doh dah
I wanna see him again and again
Beau doh doh dah
He's like my disco - He's really groovy
Beau doh doh dah
When we go out I'm gonna let him in "

This elicited a response that was quite loving, but definitely NOT like something you'd see on "The Cosby Show".

Well, almost.

Grandma Toni is set to get a new knee in the beginning of April.  We spoke today and were so thrilled and happy.  The arthritis has eaten up all of her cartilage and it's ugly in there.  She has been living a half of a life since Grandpa's death (Jan 06) of pain meds, steroids, walkers, and "getting by".  It took her some time to decide this was the right choice, to accept getting a new knee.  For the first time ever in her whole life, she will be going under general anesthesia.  This is a big deal, on many levels.

Under normal circumstances, I would be getting down there for the day of surgery.  I would be the family member the surgeon tries to calm while knitting furiously in the waiting room, watching and yet not watching the news channel on the tv.

But now I am rather pregnant.  But now Hubby has a very unforgiving work schedule.  But now we have two kids with school schedules and animals to care for as well.  But now I am *not* part of a crowd that can just "hop on a plane".

So now I have to make my peace with not being able to get there for the surgery; and possibly for her first days at home.

this is extremely hard to for me to swallow.

Grandma is my heart.
Grandma has my back... even when she tells me "Girl, you so crazy, you're making me dizzy!"

Big Boy did not like the news that we cannot fly due to not wanting the baby to come too soon.  He announced that "then Daddy can take me, Gramma Margi can meet us there and YOU can stay with Buck this time!"  were it so easy, little Love.

Big Boy does have Spring Break her first week home, but flying after 32 weeks gestation is not such a hot idea.  Driving is brutal and would need to be broken up over two days, and therefore would mean a night in a hotel.  I've not driven that drive alone since I was 24.  Well before having the kids in tow.  Definitely never done it while this pregnant or this tired or lacking in lung capacity etc.  TO sign up to do it this pregnant with two kids would be somewhat idiotic.

My mom asks me if I would be reassured by her phone reports on how things are going.  Yeah, sure.  I would.... but I wouldn't be there!  I'm supposed to be there for Grandma, damnit. 

It doesn't make much sense to go down "just me" as Hubby cannot get away from work, and even if he could... we need to save up that time for when the baby comes.

quite the conundrum.... what would you do?

Tonight I was sitting in bed reading and feeling the little one inside flop about vigorously.  At times I would lose my place in the "Brain, Child" due to a rolling swoosh from inside. 

I put the magazine aside, pulled down the covers, and lifted up the now preggo-cut  t-shirt I'm wearing to bed to get a gander at the internal festivities from the outside of the belly wall.

There was the "bowl full of jelly" wobble
There was the "Alien" movie head pressure poke out above my now flat as a pancake belly button
Then, surprisingly, the sweeping foot/heel kicking sweep down my side

"Oh!" I gasped
"What?" Hubby looked up from his laptop and I explained that we now have identifiable body parts poking out of the belly now.
"Oh!" was his response as he turned his reading light up higher and stared at the side of my ever growing belly.
"OOo!  There!" He said as the poking heel appeared again at my side.

I poked back a couple times.... the usual through the wall game of "I poke you, you poke me" that's fun at this point of gestation... but I think I scared the poor thing by laughing too.

Then I looked down at my belly and noticed a new set of stretch marks.  These new ones are a light pink and are going at a nice 45 degree grain, criss-crossing the set I got with Big Boy l in a scatter pattern above my belly button and to my left side for a few inches.  I remarked on this to Hubby.  I then told him about how earlier this week, I was wrestling a child out of the car, then squatting to pick up something when I felt something give in my side.  I lifted my shirt and saw I had just made some strech marks.  It was bizarre and little irksome.

It's kind of like getting a run in your stocking.. but there's no changing your stocking.  You say, "darnit" but beyond that, there' not much you can do.

Hubby listens while studying the belly and watching the baby roll around and party down in there.. again wondering how I am able to fall asleep with so much going on inside.

I get caught in a funny nostalgic soliloquy remembering which stretch marks came with which child.  With Big Boy it was most of them, as I got entirely too large.  Nothing was spared.  I looked like I had too much fun playing with a brown crayola marker.  With Honey Girl I thought was getting away scott- free until one morning I walked into the bathroom and noticed my entire lower abdomen was riddled with purple lashes... like they all just decided to come and party one night when I was eight or so months along.  And now, with this little joy... little light pink ziggs to go against the grain of the siblings that came before her coming in on my side, and above my belly button.  It's really rather poetic in a way.

I don't worry about the vanity of stretch marks anymore.  They really do fade away, and I've happily worn bikinis poolside after each of my births.  Sure, they become tiny little silvery squwiggles, but nothing that would keep me hiding out in a locker room, or under a matronly frock of a swimsuit at all.  I am a mom.  These and my cesarean line are my purple heart.  Some women don't get stretch marks, sure I envy that a little bit... but I see no need to hide the fact that I have thankfully carried three *rather large* babies to term (assuming this baby will be big.. who knows.. could be tiny, but that's doubtful... knowing our history).

So in the end, I look slyly to the side at Hubby and do  quick and pretty good impersonation of Jamie Foxx in the good movie "Jarhead":

" Because I. Love. This. Job.  Hooo-raw." and I smile
"Hooo-raw" Hubby says as he smiles back.

Little one has settle down a bit.. maybe I'll be able to get into a deeper sleep before the after-hours party begins.

Hi.

I'm feeling better.

Starting this weekend I got hit with some hard core exhaustion.  I was sleeping about three or four hours above and beyond my usual pregnant chick must have 8 hours at night.  Yeah, I stay up late sometimes, but not as a usual practice.. lately.  On the weekend it was pretty okay, because Hubby was home and happy to take on the critters.  But Monday dragged,  Tuesday was worse, and Wednesday I slept through the full hour of our alarm clock and even was asleep as Big Boy was climbing on me asking if it was a stay-home day or school day.  We got out the door okay and got everyone off to school by the skin of our teeth.  It was when I asked Honey Girl to "Please.... just... shutty, ok?"  I knew I should call my midwife.  I had nothing left.  Point of tears tired.

On the phone with the receptionist explaining my exhaustion, my eyes welled up a bit.  I. Don't. Do. Exhaustion.  I give it a day or two, but when I can't get my act together... I figure something must be wrong.

With my midwife, the appointment went well.  No weight gain since my last visit, blood pressure excellent (112/60), I had the nurse take an iron sample and came back with 11... so that was good.  My midwife asked if this could be due to the time change.  But I figured it was too extreme to account for one hour.  She asked if I had my thyroid checked.  Duh!  No, I had not, and was due to get that done.... aha moment.  So off to the lab I went and got all the blood work done.  I spent another day or two-ish allowing the kids more tv, forgiving myself for not being able to complete tasks, and getting into bed by 9.

I started to feel the fog lift last night when putting the kids to bed.  I caught my reflection in the closet door mirror in their bedroom while wrestling Big Boy into his jammies.  I had to laugh.  EXCEEDINGLY pregnant.  Hot-Dog! Am I EVER knocked up!

Yes, I know. Stating the obvious.  Two months to go and I am now feeling rather pregnant?  Yup.  This is how goes with baby #3; pregnancy #4.

So as I am now able to complete a task, I think I can say that the exhaustion was ( as many would assume) another fetal growth spurt.  ONE HELLUVA growth spurt. 

This morning Hubby told me he could not believe I was able to sleep through the movements of this kid last night.  I remember there were points when I moved his hand away or to a different part of my belly, as the kicking the baby was doing against the weight of his hand was just... YEOWCHY!  Before this point, the baby would calm down with the weight of his arm on my belly... no longer!  It will NOT be tamed!  That and I have become an oven.  Hubby was the one grabbing for the extra blanket I removed during the heat wave and I asked him if he needed a heat rock.  He said yes, so I moved over and cuddled up.  He was shivering and I was out of the covers.

I'm beginning to feel "uncomfortable".  This happens when I feel my ribs starting to spread; the upper back muscle tension.  The loss of lung capacity.  But you know what?  Looking back on my other pregnancies, I have felt better longer in this pregnancy than in the others.  My discomfort is really quite little.  I'm still active, still moving and shaking.

That last growth spurt really threw me.  I am hoping to not get so thrown by the next few.  I'm going to need to allow the slow down to happen.  This is not easy for me.  We'll just take it one day at a time.

I found them online!

http://store.inmod.com/spherchairba.html?gclid=CLLNhruu-IoCFR87SAodryYwlw

Hubby and I both went to Oberlin.  We swam together one year... the one year I was on swim team.  He swam all four years and broke 100 in backstroke.  We lived in the same dorm for one year as well.  The year after I stopped swimming.  I lived in that dorm the three years I lived on campus.  We took a Polansky film class together our senior year and it was like, "Oh, Hi!  I remember you.. let's sit together and chat for two minutes before the lecture/film starts."

Other than those co-mingling moments, and the fact that Oberlin is a small school ( about 2800 students, including the conservatory)... I'm not sure our experiences could have been more different.  This came to mind this evening all from watching a Heineken commercial.

Me:  Oh, wow.  Maybe one of these days I'll have a womb chair again.  I miss them, don't you? [the add had a white one with red interior]

(See, Mudd Library had womb chairs on the second and fourth floors.  Great for napping... not so hot for studying, but when it's winter and you don't want to hike back to the dorm they were a great snuggle down spot to read in, cut out sound, added privacy, and they spun... so if a friend saw you in one, and was prankster.. you'd get spun.. hopefully not with a lap full of reserve room reading materials that would go flying)

hubby:  I never sat in them.  I mean, I sat in them as sort of a novelty once or twice, but never spent time in them.
me: Get out!  Really? 
Hubby (laughing): really.
me:  What about the cereal bowl?
hubby:  The cereal bowl?  You mean that thing of bright colored couches students moved around and would crawl into to study?
me:  Yes!  On the second floor, next to the computer lab.
hubby (looking like I asked him if he ate someone's baby): Umm... no
me:  Wow.  That's funny. 
hubby:  I didn't spend much time in the library.
me:  You WORKED in the library. (computer center)
hubby: exactly.  I studied in my room. 
me: what about the reserve room?
hubby: never had to use it
me: I freakin' hated it and had to visit it all the time.
hubby: computer science... no need for reserve reading
me: philosophy, sociology, bio, neuroscience, psychology of all sorts, women's studies, african american studies, east asian studies, .... I was there too much, and hated it even more.  Smoker's study lounge?
hubby: nope.

*grinning smirks exchanged*

me:  I swear.. did we both go to Oberlin???

In the conversation that followed funny stuff came up.  For how tiny the town, amazing how different our experiences were.  He went to a Talcott formal.. something I never did.  He went to 'sco a couple times for quarter beer night.  I lived for Funk n' Soul night and played darts all the time with Norah and Ben, would go to professor beers to meet with my advisor.  We both ate at the Rat.  He went to drag ball once.  It was  rather large event for my group of friends each year.  We both lunched at Talcott.  We both watched the Harkness bike derby a couple times.  He never hung out at the Feve.  I did, and even worked there one summer.  We both bought our music at Sarge's.  He went into Harkness once, as an employee of conference services, and swore he refused to clean up that dump.  He mountain biked in the arb ... I only went there once or twice.  He never attended safer sex night at the sco.  Another biggie fun for me.  I went to some parties at Harkness.  He didn't hang out reading or socializing on any of the bowls/quads on warm spring/summer/fall days, be it Wilder, Harkness, North, or South.

I know this is an entry that will only be funny to our fellow Obies... but for them, it will probably cause  a chuckle, and thus was worth the typing time!  Also for any current Obies attneding who think that whole "80% of Obies marry other Obies.. and 90% of those couplings happen after leaving Oberlin" and think "not me!  Never!"  Well.... just you wait.  While sipping a feve coffee in a recycler mug and studying Kant on the lawn in front of Wilder.. your soul mate could very well be down in the computer center working on a server.

For our date night tonight Hubby and I walked downtown and went to go see The 300.  It was a good walk, lovely night, people out.  The movie was eye candy amazing and I enjoyed this graphic novel rendition of the spartans battle against Xerxes' Persian Empire.  The film was *graphic* to say the least.  There was nudity, sex, rape, gluttony, battle, blood, gore, beheading, animal killing, limb-losing... and then there were the freaks of nature of mythical proportions in characters that were truly an amazing innovation of poetic license taken with history.  No one in that theater was there for the history lesson.  I stopped my yammering after two comments to Hubby about historical inconsistencies on the topic.  Yes, I loved studying this battle in high school.  I enjoyed studying the Spartans as any teenager would.... or, any nerdy cool teenager like I was!

So, good movie.. go for it.  It was great in the same way Sin City was.  It took my eyes about a half hour to readjust to reality after all the graphic novel to screen effects.

I think I was one of only about ten women in the crowded theater.  It reminded me of a flight I took to Sitka, Alaska back in sumer of 1999.  It wasn't just that the theater was packed with men.  But it was packed with men.  Swarthy, non-communicative, itching for a hard core testosterone rush... and I'm sure they got it.    Heck, even I got enough of it to think I need to tweeze my eyebrows now.

When in line to get tickets, a group of boys, young men, tweeners?  were in front of us.  They get to the front of the line, and each is being asked how old they are.  Turns out one was 13 and the cashier asked if the parents were there... ummmm no?  Then is there someone older then 17 to take you?  Umm... yeah.. and he points to one of his companions.  They other kid agrees that he's older the 17.  No ID is checked.. they file into the theater.  I laughed a bit to myself.  No one ever stopped me from seeing R movies.  Ever.  But here I was, this old broad,.. a MOM nonetheless, thinking, "Do your folks know you're trying to see this movie and how violent it's supposed to be?"  I shushed my mommy brain.

We find a spot in the theater.  After witnessing a comedy of errors of the same group of tweeners getting lost in the hallway and not finding the door into the theater because it was closed... they saw the sign above the door, but walked passed the door and were wandering around in front of the restrooms.  Poor stoners.  It was crowded and we ended up sitting at the end of the row right next to the entrance.. where we would have had to move if someone in a wheelchair came along.  There was lots of legroom as this is the prime seating area for "diaper days" movies if you have a baby in need of belly time.  The separation from Upper and Lower theater areas.  I didn't like the thought of having to stick either my butt or belly into some testosterone junkie's face should the baby shift inside causing me to run to the toilet.  So we got to see who (or what) was coming to see the movie.

Then it happened.  Boy oh Boy... my skin went cold as a family came into the theater.  No, not a family of school aged kids.. nope.  A husband, wife, toddler and preschooler.  The kids were in their jammies.  I would guess this was so they could go straight to bed after having the shit scared out of them???  The movie started at abourn 8:20.... late night for kiddos!  They sat in the aisle in the upper part of the theater.  IN the beginning of the movie, where violence and terror are the order of the day in raising Spartan boys... I hear a kid say tentatively and in a frightened voice, "Daddy?"  I almost thought Hubby would get out of his seat and go off on this dad.    He didn't, but sighed and shook his head.  As the movie was letting out, the toddler was asleep on the mom's shoulder and the dad was saying excitedly to his 4 year old son, "Wasn't that awesome?  Didn't you like the arrows and swords??!?!?  Too bad little sis fell asleep and missed out, huh???"

I had to fight the urge to turn to the little boy and say, "Wow!  What did you think of the rape scene?  Wasn't it fabulous??? How about the killing of the horses or how that guy's son lost his head?  Or how the little boy YOUR AGE was beaten to a bloody pulp just to show what a good soldier he could be by not crying???!?!!?? Oh oh oh!  Or the amazingly graphic sex in many many positions between the king and queen on the eve before he leaves for battle?"

What is the deal with parents who do this?  Please, someone ENLIGHTEN me as to how this was cool.

Hubby and I held hands and took some deep breaths.  In truth; it really is up to these parents to fuck up their kids showing them stuff too much too soon like these battle scenes and brute sexuality of basically naked women humping freaks or being drugged to channel the words of the Greek Gods.  "the most beautiful young Spartan girls were the ones chosen to be oracles" says the voice over.. then explaining how they were chosen and violated by the perverse holy seers of the mountains.  Lovely stuff for kiddos!

No, No worries.  I don't believe in censorship.  No I don't go thumping any "holier than thou" type literature about stronger laws to protect us from ourselves when it comes to movie ratings.  But, a toddler no older than 18 months and a boy no older than 4 to see The 300?  There was no law being broken.  Their parents were there giving the kids permission to oogle it all in.  But it really did give some food for thought about how kids are being so desensitized to violence of all kinds.  It ain't just latch key kids staring at afternoon tv unattended, folks.  These cute little pups were being lovingly spoon-fed this film.  Remember, "Wasn't that awesome!?!?"

But by all means... if you are an adult of consenting age... go check out the movie.  It was fine big picture kaboom fun.  No amazing acting, no amazing message.... creepy parallels of how nothing changes in the art of war or politics.  Fun flick.  Incredible to look at.

Hold a thought for the dumb-ass parents though, please.. or at least for their kids.  Come ON, people!!!  As Honey Girl says while tapping her temple, "think, think THINK!"

I was so lucky to get a walk in today with my friend Melissa in a tiny window of opportunity she had between finishing her dissertation, interviewing for a position at University Santa Clara, and caring for her husband and son!  We definitely talked education (her Phd topic.. to be exceedingly general), family, kids, life... But at the end of the walk, we talked bees, and that's what I felt like blogging about today.

Melissa's dad is a beekeeper in hobby.  A chemist and researcher by profession.  The name Melissa means "little honey bee".  At her wedding one of the favors was a little jar of honey from her dad's hives in TX.  It was very yummy.  OOps, was I not supposed to eat it?Whenever Big Boy has had a question about bees and making honey, I would call or e-mail her, and she in turn would ask her dad and he would explain it to me to explain to Big Boy.

Big Boy wanted to know exactly how bees made the honey.
Big Boy wanted to know why bees swarm, how they know what's their hive... etc etc etc.

Due to a recent move, we are super lucky to have this man closer by.  He is re-setting up shop as a beekeeper in April (he had to say goodbye to his hives he tended in Texas), and has offered to have Big Boy over to visit the bees, see the hives, and see how honey is processed.  I was really excited about this. My mom kind of freaked, and wanted me to be totally sure Big Boy has no bee allergy before we take the trip.  Will, do... sure.

Then this weekend, my mom told me that she read an article that bee hives all over the US are dying off.  Something about a pesticide used to kill termites that disorients the termites so they don't return to the their hive is poisoning bees, and thus causing them to be disoriented and not return to their hive.

I asked Melissa about this and she said it's a very serious bee pandemic, really.  No one knows exactly what is killing off the honey bees, but they are dying in alarming rates, to the point that farmers are now looking at losing fruit crops due to lacking pollination.

We then talked about how bees, bats, and snakes really and truly do get the shaft in society and how without them, we wouldn't have MOST of the food we love so much.  But I digress (BUT I LOVE BATS!)

Tonight I did a wee bit of web surfing on the bees dying off.  The term being used is Colony Collapse Disorder.  In areas of Eastern and Western U.S.,  bee keepers are losing 80% of their colonies!  In this article from Penn State it states that, "the state's $45 million apple crop -- the fourth largest in the country -- is completely dependent on insects for pollination, and 90 percent of that pollination comes from honey bees," Frazier says. "So the value of honey bee pollination to apples is about $40 million."

The National Honey Board has put 13K of seed money into researching what is killing the bees.  It could be a fungus, a virus, a bacterium that gets in their guts, or maybe pesticides.  No one seems to know.  Researchers are dissecting as many bees as they can find to figure out why the population of bees in the US is half what it was 25 years ago.

Bee keepers are being asked to fill out surveys on their hives, but many bee keepers haven't returned to their hives yet, as the hives are dormant for the winter.. thus slowing the research.

Whatever it is, the illness effects the workers bees such that they don't return to the hive, don't make the honey, so the younger bees die.  Beekeepers return to hives of dead young bees and larvae.  This is something that has huge ramifications for all of us.... even if you hate bees, you need them.  If you love or are intrigued by bees (like me), it's heart breaking.  If you don't give a fig about bees, but love MONEY.. it will hurt too because the effect of CCD on the agricultural system is well up into the billions of dollars.  No bees, no pollination, no pollination, no crops.  Not crops, no food.  No food, no money.

Yes, other insects pollinate crops, but are only responsible for about 30% of said pollination.  Also, these "wild bees" are not easily tended, and don't build hives.  Also, crops need to be more pollinated than that to bear.

So, give a good thought to bees!  We need them.  Read (or re-read since it is an amazing book)  The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd.  I don't have energy to write about the importance of bats in pollinating my favorite fruit ever (the mango) but they too get killed off in nets so needlessly and then we don't' get mangoes.  I don't' have time to write about the snakes that eat the mice, rats, shrew and other rodents that eat more of a crop than we do if not for snakes'  hungry bellies... so just for tonight.  Think a positive thought for the bees.