Showing Appreciation

Generally speaking, people these days don't expect much from work when it comes to the holidays. I hold my own expectations low, not because it won't happen, but more so as to avoid possible disappointment. However, I find I should have held my expectations exceedingly high this year instead. A good thing from anyone's point of view. The company I work for had a good year this year, and apparently good things (as well as sh@t) roll downhill, at least in this case.

Our sales person has a habit of making promises to new clients that are rediculously outlandish. A common "ailment" among many sales people and the top reason why sales and IT generally mix as well as oil and water. Among them are quick start dates. By that I mean, sign the contract and we'll have you on board and ready to go in a week! That's just fine for one client, but it seems this particular individual prefers to do this in groups of three. One person does not have enough hours in the day to crank out code to board three clients in such short spans of time.

As if to make up for this, the previously mentioned sales person has been lavishing gifts upon people. She bought a bottle of wine for everyone in my group, and sent at least some of us a link to a site where you pick your own gift. The choices were pretty nice too. Neither gift was expected, but I refuse to look a gift-horse in the mouth as it were.

Each year, my boss' boss brings in a gift for me as well. Usually it is a box of truffles. Yum. This year though, I was upgraded to a hot chocolate "kit" I guess you would call it. Four mugs, cocoa mix, mini marshmallows and all the necessary items. Everyone else got the old box of truffles. Not that I am scoffing at their truffles for they are quite good, but still...

As a final surprise, last night I was informed by one of the management that I am going to be presented with a huge 30" LCD monitor for my computer or something else of my choice if I so desired. I was blown away and quite literally beside myself. When I worked for the old MSS my Christmas bonuses were measly compared to the value of this. Although I did get a bonus in that day and time. So certainly nothing to scoff at.

At first I said yay to the monitor, but after thinking about it I realized that I would feel guilty having a monitor that nice that wouldn't get used often. So instead I am opting for a very nice digital SLR.

I have wanted a digital SLR since they first came out. They have always been out of our budget. Especially these days. Finally I will have my chance! And not just for some mid-grade SLR either. I can't wait nor can I put into words how excited that makes me. I have spent all day researching different camera models and I think I have found one I like. Now the wait begins...I will submit a short list of digital SLR models to management tonight and let them make the purchase. How exciting! Woo hoo! I haven't really "enjoyed" taking photos that much since my photography days in college. Ahh, those were fun times. Krista and I developed many photos together in the dark room there. Something tells me those times are coming back!

Christmas Reflections

I spent many hours planning Christmas this year. Mostly to such an extent as to fit within the family budget, but also to provide the maximum fun value to Kiernan. This is the year he would finally start to grasp what Christmas was all about. Or at least that was the plan. Funny how things work out isn't it?

Last year, we had to start tearing the wrapping off a package for Kiernan and he would finish. Well this year Kiernan didn't need to have nearly as much help opening his gifts. Of course, he seemed to think all of the gifts must be for him. He seemed to revel more in the opening of gifts than in the realization of what the gift was and whether or not it might be fun to play with. That is, with the exception of the gifts from my best friend Buffy.

Buffy is the QUEEN of tape! That woman could tape anything shut and you'd have no hope of ever getting it open again. Poor Kiernan would come to a package from her and look at me hopelessly like, "how am I supposed to open this, every inch of it is taped". I think we should hire her to come to the house and tape a few things shut that Kiernan gets into frequently despite our pleas to leave them alone. I teased her about that when I talked to her yesterday, but I have a feeling it didn't hit home. Surely she can't have forgotten what it is like to have a toddler around trying to open a gift given to them?

Alas I digress. The point I was getting at is that Kiernan gets the idea of getting gifts but still hasn't quite grasped the concept of why or what the occasion is. I did not take him to see Santa Claus this year, even though all our friends took their kids. I wanted to, but I kept thinking of how over-priced photos with Santa are and having images of some poor sap in a Santa suit in the mall, waiting in line for an hour only to find out that Kiernan is terrified of him. Or he might be throwing a temper tantrum by then because he is bored out of his mind and mommy just won't let him go do anything fun. It would be just my luck wouldn't it? Plus I don't think it would help him to understand the reason behind the season.

I put some window clings up on the big windows in the living room for the season. We would review frequently the various shapes and names. One of the scenes is of Mary and Joseph bending down over baby Jesus in a manger and the three wise men coming to bear gifts. Still, the concept of the season is elusive to our little boy. Perhaps I held my expectations too high? Or maybe I failed to explain things on a level he can understand? I will try again next year, probably with more luck.

Part of the reason for all of my planning for Christmas this year was to find some gifts to occupy Kiernan and reduce his demand to watch Monsters Inc. We had previously bought him a stuffed Mike for his birthday last month. This month Grandpa and Grandma bought him a stuffed Sully to go with him. He seems to like him just fine, but not enough to take his mind off the dreaded show.

We also got him some Megablocks to allow him to build things with, a Radio Flyer Rocket ride-on toy, and that was about it for the big ticket items. Do you know what that kid is drawn to more than anything else? A little $10 cell phone toy I bought as a stocking stuffer. Isn't that the way it always goes? It's the cheapest toy or the wrapping paper (or box) that gains all the attention. Even the little things he got from Buffy and Marci didn't hold his attention long. I am hopeful that over the next week something, anything, will grab his attention for more than a few minutes and it won't be something that is off limits.

Excuses, Excuses

I had most of this post written a couple of weeks ago but never finished it. I finally decided to wrap it up and publish it today.

Generally speaking, Colorado has a rather mild climate in the winter. In the 11 years I have been here, the number of times that have been below zero is still in single digits. Recently though, while the temperature has not been below zero on its own, when wind chill is factored in it has been.

Not having a child of school age yet, I am still becoming aware of the various nuances. Including, but not limited to, delays in start time due to weather. Having been a Montana native, I am familiar with things that would warrant delaying start time of school, but I have to say I disagree with many of those decisions here.

Where I grew up, we had below zero weather frequently during winter months. It didn't matter if it was 20 below with a windchill of 40 below, school still started on time. If you rode a bus, you either caught a ride with someone to school or you sat at the bus stop in the running car of your parents until the bus arrived. If the school's water and heat were working, school was still on normal schedule. Seems reasonable to me.

Here in Colorado that is definately not the case. Seriously what a friggin' joke. Someone here tried to tell me it was related to the busses, but if it is true, then why not have the drivers show up a little bit early to get the busses running and slightly warmed up before the usual time that they leave the storage lot?

Think about it, what difference is it going to make delaying school for 2 hours when the high for the day is only 10 degrees different than the low that day? Pointless. It will still be just as cold out and just as risky to stand around waiting for a bus as it was 2 hours prior. What is the sense in that?

I understand delaying for 2 hours when there is a good amount of snow accumulation or icy roads. Give the county time to get the plows and other equipment on the back roads to clear snow and lay down some sand. But just because of cold? Maybe I really am getting bitter in my "old" age. Just call me the Ice Queen I guess. Address me as "her majesty" please.

Missing My Creativity

Before Kiernan entered our lives, I was a creative, crafty sort of person. After he arrived, I expected to give up some of the things I did. Well now the reality of that has hit home.

Yes, I miss the time I once had to do crafty things. It was my outlet. My way to make everything right with the world again. It seems those days have been left behind.

I miss the quilting, the cross-stitching, the general crafty ideas and items. I think often of ways to work it into the day, but honestly, where does it fit into the schedule? During Kiernan's naptime? On weekends? After he goes to bed?

All fine ideas. Yet each of those times comes and goes and I find myself doing other things that I feel need my attention more. Cleaning, laundry, bill paying, Christmas cards, email, blogging. Sure, I know some of these things can wait, and yet there is only so much time to get certain things done. Others such as cleaning for example, if I put it off it drives me quite insane. I will eventually feel like a slob living in my own filth. Although I am certain it is really nowhere near as bad as I elude myself into thinking it is.

I love Kiernan with all my heart, but I really do miss having an open weekend to do as I please and not have to entertain a toddler. A bit selfish of me I think, and yet there it is. Out in the open for all to read. How do other mom's do it? How does one achieve a perfect balance in life between motherhood, work, housework, and me time?

I have so many ideas for crafty things I would like to do. I have quilts and fabric for them coming out my ears, yet no time to put them together. I would like to create a custom scrapbook kind of thing for Kiernan, and yet I have had little time to do so much as research who has layouts I like, ease of use and cost going for them on their sites.

I have managed to find time to read at least one book per month, to take long bubbly baths again (with the occasional "hi mommy" interruption), and to get out each weekend alone if only for a couple of hours and a run to the store. It is more for sanity than anything. To collect my thoughts and gather my wits.

Beosig doesn't know how well he has it made with his Saturday game nights. The more I think about it, the more I think I am jealous. Where is my Saturday game night?

DisneyLand or Bust!

As anyone who knows me will confirm, I am a big Disney fan. Not so much the classic stuff like Bambi, 101 Dalmations, but the newer stuff like the Little Mermaid and anything that has come out since Pixar came into the picture.

Even as a kid I always wanted to visit DisneyLand or DisneyWorld; to completely immerse myself in the world that Walt Disney himself built. Well, recently Mom came into some inheritance money. She has determined she would like to take the three of us (and them of course) to DisneyLand, CA.

I was beside myself at the mere mention of this. It's one of those dream come true kinds of things. The problem? Beosig, who is as anti-Disney as they come. We're only talking about spending a week, so not a lot of time.

We were told it could be somewhere else, but the alternate, DisneyWorld is just too much for Kiernan at this age. We would need more time off to do that anyway. Plus, we would need to come up with some other place to go that would interest a two year old as well. So I decided to bargain with him. We will go to California, spend one day at DisneyLand, one day at LegoLand, one day at Sea World and one day at the San Diego Zoo.

Bonuses:
Since Kiernan is only two, he is free for hotel stays, food, and most entry fees for the various places we will visit.

DisneyLand is small enough that I think we could cover the things we wanted to see in one day. Kiernan is afraid to ride on a carousel, and will surely be terrified to try most of the rides there, so no waiting in lines really. He will be to short for many of them anyway.

Kiernan is going through a phase right now where we have to watch "Mike" - more commonly known as Monsters Inc. - multiple times per day. Very recent development. He's a bit obsessed. That in mind, I think he'll be very happy there.


I'll have to post some of the pictures of him with his stuffed Mike we got him for his birthday. Very cute. Ah well, content for another day I suppose.

Eek! Clowns!

A friend on Facebook keeps posting scary clown photos. What's that? Clowns aren't scary you say? Ok, perhaps for most people that's true. Not for me.

As a child I remember attending many circus events when they came to town. I loved the circus...except for the clowns. Why do children like clowns anyway? They are dressed with huge ugly shoes and fake horrible hair and the nose...well it's just plain rediculous! That's not to mention how noisy they are when they get on the microphone during their act!

Perhaps I might have liked clowns more if they had been silent as a kid. Instead they scream into some microphone in a poor attempt to invigorate the crowd. Particularly the kids. I only remember plugging my ears and wanting to crawl under the bench when they came out. To this day I dislike them.

I dread the day that Kiernan asks to go to the circus when they are in town. I will surely arrange for Beosig to take him when the time comes!

I Remember, Happy Birthday

After much waiting, the day has finally arrived. No, not my own birthday, but Kiernan's. Today he is two, TWO! How quickly it has passed. How much things have changed. My recollection of the day 2 years ago follows. No gory details, I promise.

As I awoke this morning I sat in bed having slept in until 8am and reflected. Yes, 8am is sleeping in for me and for Kiernan as well. I thought upon this day two years ago. By that time I had been in labor for 6 hours already. At that hour I was working my way through some contractions as they grew stronger and Beosig was pushing on my back in the area I felt the most pain. He seems to recall the cat watching me and freaking out thinking that Beosig was inflicting pain upon me because I only made the moaning sounds when he put his hands on me (from her perspective that is). For clarity, moaning was my coping method for the pain. It worked wonders.

The rest was really a blur. I remember the ride to the hospital and telling Beosig to take it easy around left hand turns. Something about turning that direction made things hurt a little more. Why right turns weren't an issue I will never know.

I remember part of the ride up the elevator at the hospital to the birthing wing. I remember going into triage and being told I was at 9 1/2 centimeters and then I was magically in a room. I have no recollection of how I got from triage into my room. Was I half naked being pushed across the wing? God I hope not, but at that point and time I didn't care either. Then again I never have been a very modest person.

I remember the water breaking and the nurse asking me if I would like to move to the other side so she could change the sheets. Then I remember clinging for dear life to the side rail on the bed. It felt as if I let go even a small bit I would lose all ground I had gained with my efforts. There was no way in hell I was moving for that nurse. I didn't care about the damn bed at that moment, thank you very much.

I remember the heart monitor freaking out as my heart rate spiked to over 180 BPM. The rush by the doctor to make sure Kiernan was ok - having to go against my wishes and trying a Internal fetal monitor which failed as my heart rate overrode it. Doppler revealed he was fine.

I remember our doula commenting about the ring of fire and the reminder that was what I was feeling from her at just the right moment. The encouragement to push through the pain. And I did, with a vengeance. I remember commenting how good it felt once Kiernan was out. Like a breath of fresh air - literally since my lungs could now expand completely again. What a stupid thing to say. Why do I remember that?

I remember shortly thereafter the pain of the needle as I was being sewn up from a minor tear. Actually it was the pain from the numbing solution not the stitching itself. Beosig peeked over at me to be sure I was ok as I didn't make that much noise pushing Kiernan out. Needles do NOT belong...there! Ouch.

I remember a short while after the big event, a seemingly brief and quiet few hours in the room with just Beosig and I. I recall a number of phone calls, eating/drinking and staring down upon our new creation with eyes of wonder. I remember telling him to go home for the night and get some sleep so one of us would be coherent the next day.

The thing that stands out most in my mind is that night. Beosig had gone home at my suggestion. I had Kiernan swaddled and tucked in the crook of my arm (he used to fit there perfectly *sigh*) and just staring at him endlessly as he slept. I felt I could have sat there all night doing nothing else. My heart swelled with pride and a love like one I never knew could exist. I remember looking at the clock and realizing it was midnight and I had nearly been up for 24 hours at that point before I finally crashed for the night.

As bedtime approached, I took Kiernan downstairs to his room, rocked him to sleep and reflected upon that same moment 2 years ago, just the two of us in the still of the night.

No longer does Kiernan fit in the crook of my arm perfectly, but instead his legs dangle over my own when he lays across my lap, his head nestled in close to me. The days of his needing nourishment from me every 2-3 hours and sharing our bed long gone. I miss those early days, and yet I look forward to what this new year will bring. I look down upon him and smile, kiss his forehead goodnight, and as I place him in his own bed I whisper my own birthday wish to him. Happy birthday my little man and good night.

Wishing Upon a Star

Since the time of Kiernan's first winter I seem to find myself wishing for him to grow older to do various activities.

The first winter, I was wishing he was old enough to go play in the snow. For his first summer, I was wishing he was old enough to go play outside and catch bugs and frogs etc. This year I found myself wishing he was a year older so we could go to Boo at the Zoo for halloween. I also occassionally think how I'd like to go back to Washington DC but Kiernan needs to be old enough to appreciate all of the history there and be able to read first.

Thankfully some of my wishes have materialized. This year we will finally be able to go play in the snow. I hope to make snow angels, build a snowman and perhaps a snow fort together. While Kiernan was old enough to be able to catch bugs and frogs this past summer, he was far more interested in just exploring his freedom outdoors instead. Perhaps next year.

Any parent will tell me that childhood passes all too quickly and I should stop wishing it away. Yet I cannot seem to stop myself. I seem to long for that which I do not have yet but will in the future. I know all too well that before I know what has happened he will be a teenager and I will be wishing he was younger again. Or perhaps I will instead find myself wishing for him to graduate from high school...only time will tell.

H1N1 and Being a Responsible Parent

With H1N1 plastered all over the news lately, it is impossible to ignore. The media has done a spectacular job of hyping up the fear in this ailment for everyone. Questions abound from everyone at the slightest sniffle, cough or sneeze. It's getting old and the real season for the H1N1 and flu is not even upon us yet!

As a parent of a toddler in daycare, I have already seen a sign announcing the first case of H1N1 in the daycare center. So far just that one though. The daycare took precautions to post special rules for those who are infected, and hopefully they follow those rules to keep things under control there. Still, I half expect to see a small outbreak there too before the winter is over. In the meantime, we take precautions, keeping the kiddo at home if he has a fever or cold, and being nearly obsessive about washing hands.

Yesterday, a coworker's wife and daughter dropped by the office. I later found out that same daughter has H1N1 (has, not past tense of had) and yet she was out and about. This coworker got sideways glances from everyone but quickly stated, "it's just another form of flu". True enough, but I was, and still am rather upset by the fact that they had the gall to come by the office when she is still sick!

I did not cause a scene or say anything, but I wanted to scream, what in the hell are you doing out of the house? I believe if you have an illness that is known to be rather contagious, it is your responsibility as a parent to KEEP YOUR CHILD HOME until they are well. Am I crazy? Is that too much to ask?

As it turns out the three of them are going to a large public event tonight and I cannot help but wonder how many unsuspecting people they will expose. The defense for this is that they purchased tickets well in advance and don't want to see them go to waste. I say find a babysitter who can watch your sick child and go, don't expose hundreds or thousands of people for a few short hours of enjoyment.

Fall Already?

Earlier this week I awoke to a chilly, foggy morning. The kind that makes you want to stay in bed and pull the covers up to your neck and snuggle, because it's just too cozy and warm to get up. A sure sign of fall. Sigh. I am so not ready for fall to be here.

Fall means the snowflakes are just around the corner. It means that in just a couple short months Kiernan is going to grow another year older. My baby. Last year I was lamenting that he couldn't walk so we couldn't yet go play in the snow. This year I am torn because while I think playing in the snow with him will be fun, it also means he's growing up.

Our friends had a baby about 6 months ago, and my hormones kicked into high gear. Not because of that alone, many factors came into play. However, it made me realize how I miss the dependency of an infant. The frequent feedings, the night wakings, everything about it. Unfortunately, situation being what it is, I think we're done going down that path. At least for now. Right?

I keep telling myself that I enjoy the freedom we have now. Not having to carry a diaper bag everywhere, Kiernan sleeping through the night now and how that's wonderful, not having to feed him every 3 hours on-the-dot and so on and so forth. I'm completely enjoying Kiernan's independence, watching him discover the world and light up as he points to something he recongizes and exclaims in excitement the name of the object in question. Yet a part of me wonders, what would it be like to have another. To start all over again. I must be crazy.

Finally, after about 3 months feeling like, "OMG I HAVE to have another baby!", the hormones have died down. I'm more able to focus on watching Kiernan grow up and learn new things. Perhaps it was the biological clock ticking, reminding me that I only have 5 years until the big 4-Oh. Honestly though, I don't think my body can take another pregnancy yet. My hips have not been the same since Kiernan was born, and being forced to lie on my side for months at a time would only aggravate the situation. I'm not sure I could keep up with another kid either. I have enough of a hard time keeping up with the one we have. I've come to my senses I think. For now.

We always swore we wouldn't be "that couple". You know the one. The one that ALWAYS complains about never being able to make ends meet because they rushed in and had another kid when they couldn't afford it. In retrospect, I think I understand now why so many of those couples are out there.

Oh The Irony

A mere 2 days after posting the Baby Sign Language entry, a huge changed happened in Kiernan. On the 7th he went to daycare, and that night I swear we did not bring home the same little boy. Suddenly, and without warning he went from saying a handful of words to trying to say almost anything we coached him on. I spent the entire weekend combing his "My First Word" books and getting him to try to say various things when the pictures were shown. It was so awesome!

If I thought it was like flipping a switch watching kids go from immobile to crawling and/or walking, it is absolutely nothing compared to when they gain the desire and capability to speak. He was (and still is) a virtual sponge. It is almost a struggle to satisfy his remarkable desire to learn new words.

At the same time it is the most amusing thing to listen to him try to pronounce some words. I never tire of hearing him attempt though. "Elalel" (elephant) etc. are quite the hoot! It seems as though a number of words he says backwards - sun is "nus" for instance and ant is "nat".

There are other words that are accompanied by various gestures. For instance with the word top he does this little song and dance. I have yet to discover where he picked that up from. Then there is the ever amusing "AIRPLANE!" with the arms thrown up into the air each time he says it. He came up with that all on his own too. I guess he just really loves airplanes. By far the cutest though, has to be wolf. In our kitchen is a picture of a wolf given to us one Christmas by a college friend. Since the time Kiernan was very little we would point at the picture and tell him the sound the wolf made. He would do his best to mimic the howl as he threw his head back. Today, anytime he sees a picture of a wolf (any picture, not just that one) he refuses to even attempt to say the word but instead throws his head back and issues a little howl. Very cute.

So back to my point, I was correct in my last post. I would have to say his vocabulary has dramatically expanded over the last two weeks and he is now starting to make attempts to talk in short sentences. I must say I am dying to know if the other boys who are baby sign language die-hards are talking as much yet. It will be very interesting to find out, very interesting indeed.

Baby Sign Language

A number of parents seem to like to teach their kids baby sign language, including some I am friends with. They brag endlessly about how many signs their kid knows and may as well be paid for advertising various companies that promote baby sign language. I've grown tired of it. I've done my research and decided against teaching it, so obviously I disagree with that approach.

Any search about this subject on the internet reveals that kids who learn sign language tend to be delayed in learning to speak. Sure, before kids are able to grasp complete control of the ability to move their tongue in various ways to make sounds it makes sense to teach them this skill. Although really, by the time they are able to make signs without issue, they are also old enough to start speaking. Yet, why learn to speak if you can "talk" with your hands? I wouldn't be so set against it if it was ASL (American Sign Language) which is universally understood, but no, there are special signs that are used instead.

Am I missing something here? What is the benefit over learning to talk? Maybe there is a really good reason to do this, but I'm sure not seeing it. My kid will be speaking in sentences and paragraphs long before our friend's kids are able to say 50 words. This leads me to my next theory.

Everyone talks about the terrible twos and more and more parents are now talking about how three is worse than two. I often wonder though, is part of the reason we are hearing more about how terrible the age of three is related to the delay in speech from teaching children sign language? Being a first time parent of a child who is not yet even 2, I can only speculate, but here is my theory.

A large part of the reason that children of 2 (or 3) are hard to manage is because they are unable to express their desires to us. They are still mastering their language skills and learning their boundaries and the expectations we have of them.

My theory is that by teaching our kids to speak instead of this so-called sign language the effects of the "terrible twos" (or threes) will be reduced. Their language skills will be mastered sooner if they have less to learn about how to express themselves. I also believe that many of the "terrible two" issues arise from the fact that parents decide to have multiple children and usually within 2-3 years of each other. This steals the focus of the parent away from the older child and in order to gain more attention they act out and push the boundaries.

I'm no specialist in this area, but common sense tells me this. I anxiously await for Kiernan to hit this magical age and see if we have the issues that I hear about so often. Maybe I could apply for a government grant to study this and poll people about whether their child was worse at age two or age three, if they taught this child baby sign language, and if they had a second child about that same time. Then I could publish the results that "terrible twos" (or threes) really exist. LOL!

Never Ending Fever

What a week! Monday everything was normal. By 12:30 AM Monday night/Tuesday morning depending on how you look at that, Kiernan spiked a fever.

I was sleeping soundly when I woke to hear him moaning in his room over the monitor. That is never be a good thing. I reluctantly got up and went to check on him. He was burning up. A dose of Tylenol and an hour later and he had cooled off and was back to sleep in his crib. If I thought that was the end of a bad situation, I was sadly mistaken.

The next morning began a vicious cycle. I stayed home with Kiernan Tuesday and expected nothing less than a very trying day with him. Most kids who are suffering from a fever are cranky. Kiernan is apparently the exception. He was in quite a good mood, was drinking plenty and eating decently. Sure he had his moments - his patience was short on occasion, and he got clingy during the times he didn't feel well. His fever came and went throughout the day.

Tuesday night his fever was back so we tried a warm bath. Yeah, that backfired and made him shiver instead, poor guy. That doesn't help with bringing the temperature down. Later that night, I went down to check on him and he was positively burning up. A check with the thermometer revealed a temperature of 104 degrees! I am not one to panic, but I have to admit that was worrisome. I tried calling the "ask a nurse" hotline but of course they closed at 9PM. No help there.

I woke Beosig up at this point who suggested calling the pediatrician's office in order to contact the on-call doctor. Nice idea, why didn't I think of that? It was so obvious. The pediatrician's answering service contacted a nurse at a local hospital who called me back. We were told 105 degrees was high enough to warrant a trip to the ER. A bit close for comfort, but we decide to hold out until morning and keep an eye on him until then. Fortunately the rest of the night was uneventful.

Wednesday was Beosig's turn to keep watch. He took Kiernan to the doctor and everything checked out ok. They even swabbed him for flu - no signs of any issues. What the heck was going on with this kid? His appetite diminished a bit Wednesday afternoon and he wasn't drinking quite as much as he probably should have, but again was in fairly good spirits.

Thursday I again stayed home with Kiernan while we waited for his fever to break. He clung tightly to me almost non-stop. A sure sign that he wasn't feeling very good. Finally by early afternoon his fever broke. Yay! At last! He started to perk up a little bit that day and by Friday afternoon seemed to be pretty much back to normal except for his appetite.

I have to say, it sucks having to watch your kid suffer and being unable to do anything about it. We tried alternating Tylenol and Motrin, tried the Vicks on the bottom of the feet trick, everything I could think of to help and none of it did anything. I felt so bad for Kiernan not being able to do anything for him but watch him suffer. To have nothing other than a fever materialize is bizzare as well. They tend to accompany colds, ear infections and such, but nothing this time. A mystery to say the least.

Naturally, all this happened the week before Beosig was due to be out of town for a conference. Great timing. At least it broke before he left. Not much worse than playing the single parent role with a sick kid. Glad I missed out on that.

Any Regrets?

Recently, a divorced, single, childless friend asked me if I had any regrets about deciding to have kids. I didn't hesitate to answer no, but a discussion ensued with him.

He asked me if I didn't feel tied down and less able to go do the things I wanted to do. My answer? Sure, sometimes I miss out on things that I used to be able to do any time I liked. The thing is, once you become a parent, if there is something you really really want to do, you simply find a way. Your child becomes an extension of your life. They go with you and you hope you have done well enough to teach them to behave properly, or you find a babysitter. I'd be lying if I said that having the extra money that we spend each month on daycare wouldn't be fabulous.

Sure, I could have more time for my hobbies such as quilting. I wouldn't have daycare to pay for so maybe I could afford to go to cat shows from time to time. I might even have horses by now if Kiernan hadn't come along. But the trade off is worth it.

The way I think about it, everything is just on hold for a few years. I'll get my moment to have the things I wanted, and I will share them with Kiernan if he is interested. Or maybe my views and interests will change, as I have found to be the case in other circumstances.

On the other hand, if Kiernan hadn't arrived I would have missed out on a lot of things that I enjoy with him today. I wouldn't have gotten to watch him grow from a helpless, tiny little infant to the independent little boy he is today. I wouldn't have gotten to watch him graduate from lying helpless on the floor to sitting independently to creeping to crawling and finally to walking and running. Trying to describe the pride in watching that progression is impossible. It simply can't be put into words.

I would have missed out on hearing his attempts at new words and the chuckles it envokes hearing them. For instance cat is mow (pronounced as meow without the e), ow is cow, bir is bird, ello equates to hello, (maybe he thinks he's British? lol) upf translates to up (as in pick me up), ak ga is Kiernan speak for all gone.

I would have missed out on all of his silly antics that never fail to make me laugh. I would never have known the smile that still melts my heart every time I see it and makes every day 100% better.

No, looking back I have no regrets about becoming a parent. It's the best decision I ever made.

The 'Quick Incident

Last night was girls night out. Much like Vegas, what happens at girls night stays at girls night. Unless it is your own story and you wish to share it with the world as is the case here.

We were sitting around talking after our first pillow fight in our baby dolls. Okay, the scene is set for the guys out there who believe that's what happens at sleep overs or gatherings of women without their male counterparts :).

Moving on, comments shifted to some events that happened to one of the other girls' husband/significant other and how they had to choke back laughter at his expense. So I casually mentioned the following:

"Be honest, tell me there hasn't been at least one incident that happened to your husband/boyfriend that you couldn't help but laugh at, be it to his face or behind his back." Everyone nodded and chuckled and murmured in agreement. So I went on to tell the tale of Beosig and the 'Quick incident.

Begin flashback:

Beosig had recently moved to Montana to be with me and we were not even sharing an apartment yet. He lived in the apartment directly below mine. This particular evening he was in his apartment working on the computer. If memory serves correctly, we both had acquired a virus thanks to my computer lab at school and he was cleaning disks etc.

I wandered downstairs to see if he wanted a glass of chocolate milk. Beosig nods and says yes. I say "Open up!" and jokingly hold the box of Nestle Quick over his head. I did NOT plan what happens next. I swear it! He might disagree but I stand by my claim.

As I tip the box of Nestle Quick up, the lid pops off and chocolate mix goes EVERYWHERE! In Beosig's mouth, nose, probably down his shirt, all over the floor. It was a mess! After about 5 seconds to absorb what just happened and make sure he's okay, I lose my composure completely, laughing so hard I cry, my stomach hurts, I nearly pee my pants. I know I shouldn't laugh but it was SO DAMN FUNNY! I remember he came up to bed hours later and I was still chuckling about it.

End flashback:

I bet if you ask him he will say he still does not like Nestle Quick. Even as I relayed the stories to the girls last night I was reeling in laughter. I can't help myself. I find myself chuckling as I type this story up for the world to see as well. Hopefully you will find the humor in it as I did - and apparently still do.

The Great Pediatrician Debate

Ok, ok, so sue me. I stole the subject of this post from AnyMommy's blog entry but the content is completely different. Last week was Kiernan's 18 month well baby checkup so it was a subject that was fresh on my mind anyway.

Last year Kiernan's pediatrician retired and in her place a new, younger one was hired along with a nurse practitioner. I liked Kiernan's doctor so I figured I would give the new one a chance before jumping ship and running to a new office - let's just say I don't like the other two doctors at that practice and leave well enough alone.

The first appointment we had after Kiernan's old pediatrician retired was his 12 month checkup. I was only able to get in with the nurse practitioner. I was amazed when I found that I liked her. Well, as much as one can like doctors anyway. She didn't talk down to me as if I was a mom that worries too much.

Yes, Kiernan's development is right on track. His ears do look a bit inflamed, but since he has no fever and they don't seem to bother him, nothing to worry about. Here's a prescription just in case so you don't have to bring him back in if it turns into something nasty.

Good news for me - no additional insurance copay. Things did turn worse a couple of days later, so good thing for that prescription.

The second appointment was with the new doctor for the 15 month checkup. Kiernan had been fighting off a cough and been congested, but seemed to feel fine, had no fevers and was sleeping through the night. The cough had cleared a few days earlier. When the new doc examined him she told me he had bulging ear drums and instantly wanted to know how many ear infections he had had. I mentioned 4 or 5 and she says that we need to keep an eye on that and have him back in a month to check his ears again.

Great, here we go again with the rechecks and the concern about nothing. Didn't we go through this earlier with weight right after he was born? So he's had a few ear infections, doesn't every kid? They aren't chronic, and if they had been he wouldn't be able to say and understand the words he does now. While my mind is reeling with all of these thoughts I sit quietly and squirm.

Well, since he has not been running a fever and he seems to be feeling ok, we can go ahead with his shots. He's due for 4 this time.

She rattles off the first three that I don't recall the names of, and varicella (aka chickenpox). Beosig and I discussed that one and decided we'd like to hold off on it. Every kid our age suffered through them, no big deal. Before I go on, I have to say I'm not one of those parents that refuses to vaccinate their kid. I have a kid in daycare and germs of all kinds spread like wildfire there, so I will take the necessary precautions to keep my kid healthy. This is the one and ONLY vaccine I want to skip all together. I want to expose him to the virus the way both of us were exposed and hope he gets it so he develops a natural immunity. It is not a life threatening disease. We both lived through it and have the scars to prove it.

I tell her we'd like to opt out of that one for now. She asks me point-blank why. I know she's looking for me to say the usual right of passage excuse. I don't give her that satisfaction. This has turned into a me vs. her debate. Instead I just mention that I've heard kids that get the vaccine get shingles instead which we know is painful and that it's generally understood to be a disease that affects older people.

She retaliates with no it isn't and she sees kids with shingles all the time who have not had the vaccine. I wonder quietly how much of this she is making up to scare me. I don't back down. She says she has some article from some medical journal du jour about kids who died from complications of chickenpox, would I be interested in reading it. I humor her and say "sure".

A few minutes later she returns with a graphic article that includes full color photos of kids who have died from chickenpox just as she said. I look at the images briefly and say these people had to have known there were complications, it can't have happened overnight. Oh, no, she says, it came on quite suddenly and they had no warning. I'm thinking, that's total crap and you know it. I say nothing and continue to look over the article. She leaves the room for a reason I can't remember which was probably just some made up excuse so that I can sit there and wallow in the fault of my decision while looking at these photos.

I feel terrible for the parents of these children, but come on, how could they not have known there was a problem? One of them depicts a child with a huge cavernous opening that was filled with pus and infection from a pox prior to their death. I think I could have fit two fists in that opening easily. There is no way in hell that parent didn't know ahead of time. And if they really didn't, well then they certainly weren't very observant. Not to be totally cruel but seriously...what kind of idiot does this woman think I am? Her guilt trip and scare tactics won't work on me.

She returns and I tell her I have not changed my mind. We proceed with the other vaccinations and get the hell out of there.

A month later we return for the aforementioned recheck on Kiernan's ears. This time they look better but "a little dull" indicating some fluid might be behind the eardrums. No real reason for concern as it will probably clear on its own. Good news. Let's put this thing to rest. I am given the ultimatum. If he gets another ear infection in the next 2 months that we will get a prescription for antibiotics. If it doesn't clear up he'll get a shot of antibiotics and a referral to an Ear Nose and Throat (ENT) specialist. Pretty much guarantees tubes.

Nice. No parent wants to have their kid put under for surgery. Even less so when it is not necessary. I had tubes 5 (yes 5!) times as a kid. I know what it was like. I also know I was misdiagnosed and had they removed my tonsils instead of putting tubes in I would have been fine since I had chronic tonsilitis which also caused my eustachian tubes to swell up and not allow drainage. I have permanent holes in my eardrums from all the "tubes". I can't dive and I can't get water in my ears without suffering from a ear infection later. Yes, I can hear just fine, thank you. The only up side is that I can fly in a plane and have none of the issues others get with plugged ears. I do not want my kid to go through that unless it is absolutely necessary, so you bet I'm going to fight this tooth and nail all the way, which brings me to my next point.

What is it about doctors referring kids to ENT specialists on a whim if they get X number of ear infections? That number varies from doctor to doctor. It's like they have some kind of quota to fulfill for a given time period. "Eight more referrals to go until I get my bonus!" Kids get colds. Colds lead to occasional ear infections. It's a fact of life, especially with the smaller kids since their eustachian tubes are not fully developed yet to allow proper drainage. It's basic anatomy! Infants have eustachian tubes that are horizontal which aid in bacteria growth when fluid builds up and is unable to drain from behind the eardrum due to this fact. As the infants grow the eustachian tubes stretch to become more and more vertical which aids in drainage.

Don't get me wrong. If I thought for a moment that Kiernan was suffering from chronic infections or losing hearing from ear infections (none of his ear infections have been very serious I might add) I would be the first one knocking on the ENT's door for help. They do have their place in the doctor food chain. I just don't think there is a need to force it on people.

Fast forward to the 18 month well child checkup. I request to meet with the nurse practitioner instead of the doctor now. I prefer not to repeat that last visit, thank you very much. Everything checks out, he's right on schedule for development, no worries. He's due for his dtap vaccine and varicella. I mention I'd like to wait on that one until he's older. She says ok, no fight, no scare tactics and moves on. That's the way it should be. I deserve to have my decisions respected. That's all I'm asking. Question my reasons if you want, suggest alternatives, give me the facts I am missing, but please don't try to bully me into doing it your way.

Overwhelmed by Debt

As some of our closer friends are aware, last year was a tough year for us. Lots of medical expenses and emergencies meant lots of expenses compounded. By the time the end of the year came our only hope to get out of the mess we were in was a large tax return.

Unfortunately that large tax return didn't pan out as anticipated. Thank you Uncle Sam. Am I bitter? You betcha! Convoluted and poorly worded tax rules caused confusion. In the end due to misinterpretation on my part, we only received half of the amount I expected in our return. Ouch!

Jump forward to April this year. By this time I had discovered we were spending more than we were bringing home from work just to make ends meet. Any savings we had were nearly wiped out. In a desperate attempt to stay afloat I ran to my parents for assistance. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't asking for them to rescue us from our situation as I just have too much pride for that. I was simply asking for a little assistance to get things caught up and help tide us over for a while. They agreed, thank God.

Prior to that, I did my homework and looked into a debt management program to get things paid off. For those of you who are unfamiliar with that concept, basically it consists of closing credit accounts and committing to a monthly payment plan to pay them off in a designated amount of time. The company who initiates the debt management program works with the creditors to get your interest rates reduced and they work with you to determine a payment plan that works for your budget.

I was sure once we started down this path things would be immensely less stressful. Boy was I wrong! It's almost more stressful now. When the payment plan was set up and a budget was ironed out I determined we didn't have much after bills were paid for extra expenses (groceries etc.). Is it survivable? Sure, but it leaves almost no room for extras. We have to hope everyone stays healthy and no unexpected things come up.

Debt management is a roller coaster ride in and of itself. I think so far the worst part has been waiting on the creditors to accept the terms of the program. Our future hinges on it. Second worst part has to be discovering that our "emergency fund" credit card was canceled due to the fact that we enrolled in a debt management program. So let's see, I'm taking responsibility for my financial future but they're going to punish us for it by taking the rug out from under us. Well crap. What do we do if we fall on our asses now?

Each day that goes by I try with a great amount of effort to see the positive side of all of this. We'll be debt free when we come out of this. There will be no mark on our credit report when we're done. Problem is, that nagging thought of, "How do we get from point A to point B?" keeps creeping up on me.

Some days (like today) the negative gets the better of me and I turn bitter towards the rest of the world. That just isn't me, but I find myself wishing terrible things for other people. I want to shout from the rooftops "I told you so!" about Obama and his pork barrel spending. Sure having the first black president is a huge historical event and I'm glad we as a country have the ability to see past color for positions of leadership. However, it sure seems like there are a lot of empty promises that he has yet to deliver on. What about a bailout for the little people? The average Joe? I'm not savvy on all the political "stuff" but how are we paying for all of these things? Maybe I'm looking for empathy from those who can make a difference, I don't know.

I'm bitter because at the end of the day I'm upper middle class and don't qualify for things lower middle class people do. I make too much money. Who cares if I have nothing at the end of the day to my name, what I bring home disqualifies me. I have to grin and bear it. It's always been that way, and thanks to the way the government works, it will stay that way forever. Unless you win some huge lottery or inherit some huge estate or come up with some great business plan and enact it (ie. Google, FedEx, Yahoo) you are doomed to be born into and die in the same class.

All I can say is on days like today I thank God for Kiernan. He is the only thing that keeps my head on my shoulders and keeps me sane. Even on the worst of days he has a wonderful habit of making me happy. Who can be anything but happy around a toddler with his sense of humor and constant smile?

Here's hoping tomorrow brings me a better mood and less negativity so I can see things for what they are. I like to think there is a small light at the end of the tunnel.

Loki: April 1998-January 31, 2009

I remember in June of 1998 when Beosig and I had just moved to Colorado Springs. We were living in a small 2 bedroom apartment with just us and the ferrets and a handful of fish. The fish were not faring so well so we stopped by a local pet shop that delt primarily with fish and reptiles. Occasionally a mammal would show up in the store for sale, but not on a regular basis. On the particular weekend in question this shop happened to have a skinny black mother cat and her 5 (or maybe 4) kittens. We both got what we came to the store after and found ourselves stopped beside the cage the cats were in.

Both of us had come from homes where we had cats most of our lives. I can't speak for Beosig, but I had wanted a cat again since I left home for college. I missed the feeling of having a small furry body pressed up against me while I slept and having a cat rubbing against my leg when fixing something in the kitchen in the hope it might mean a meal for them. So needless to say, when I saw this poor mama cat who couldn't get away from her kittens to wean them and the playful bundles of joy with her, I was smitten.

The two of us stood there and hesitated, both of us calculating the cost in our heads I am sure. Our budget at the time was very tight. The next thing I remember, we were picking out which one to take home. Did we want a boy or a girl? We decided on one of two the brown tabby kittens, a boy. The ride home was anything but uneventful as our new little fellow howled the entire way. Screaming for mama I am sure. Let's not forget this little boy was bloated from still adjusting to solid food and suckling on mom so he had gas something fierce. When he got scared he let loose and boy did it stink! This was temporary of course and would only last a couple of days thank goodness. If it had been much longer the paint on the apartment walls may have started to peel!

Something to note is that our apartment complex had a huge pet deposit for any cat or dog and we could not afford that deposit. We were doing this on the down-low. They didn't know about our ferrets, but then ferrets really don't make much noise, so they wouldn't have heard them. Cats on the other hand, even tiny kittens are another matter all together.

Our new little kitten screamed his head off even when we got home. He would stop long enough to eat and sleep for a little bit and then start in again. I was able to tune it out knowing that he just missed his mama and litter mates and it would end soon but Beosig was going crazy from the calling. Beosig and I were both afraid we would get caught by the apartment managers and have to pay the pet deposit. It should also be mentioned that we were told our little guy was 12 weeks old, but by his size and the fact that he wasn't weaned to solid food completely yet I'm not really sure that was true. That may have added to the crying he was doing. It didn't help much when our male ferret decided to dominate him by grabbing him by the neck and dragging him around. This poor little kitten must have thought he was a gonner because he sure screamed bloody murder. We came running to find him being dragged around the room. This is normal ferret behavior, and not physically harmful in any way, but kittens do not know the way of the ferret.

Now, it just so happened that we needed to have some work done on our air conditioning in the apartment which meant that there would be workers in there while we were away during the day. So, I made arrangements to have him boarded at our vet's office for the day to give Beosig a much needed break and keep us out of trouble at the same time. My plan worked wonderfully and when we brought the kitten back home, he seemed to have calmed down some as well. Now to pick out a name for this little guy! Wow what a task that was. It took us about a week I think and then we arrived at Loki. The name seemed to fit our theme with Mischief and Trouble being the ferrets and knowing that he would someday be bigger and stronger than both of them, it made sense. Loki - God of mischief and trouble.

When we picked Loki out at the pet store, the manager had mentioned that one of the little boys had a scratch on his left eye from his litter mates and had to have ointment put in his eye for it. We examined Loki and it was determined that no he was not the one with that problem. Well a few days later we discovered he was wrong. Loki was walking down the hallway and would stop suddenly and fluff up and jump straight up in the air as if he had seen something. Of course he was seeing things from the scratch on his cornea. We took him to the vet and got some of the aforementioned ointment to apply and he was as good as new.


Loki was the center of attention any time friends came over. Leaping 3-4 feet into the air after a teaser was normal for him. He would continue to play until he was panting with exhaustion and couldn't stand any longer. After a short rest, he'd be good as new and right back at it. He would race around the house like a mad man being chased by ghosts we could not see. He would wrestle with Mischief and get her all sorts of worked up so she would dance around the room doing her little war-dance and dooking as only a ferret could do. If he saw his reflection in the glass of the entertainment unit in the living room, he would fluff up and attack the invader in the house. When we tried to show him it was only a reflection of him, he was sure that the other cat was behind the glass and would look puzzled when he could not find him.

Some time later, we decided to get birds. We all know cats and birds generally aren't a good mix, but we tried anyway. All seemed fine once we introduced them. Until one day, when one of them flew and landed on the floor. Loki turned to his instincts and instantly went into hunter mode. He was stalking his prey - his soon-to-be meal. Little did he know that he too was being stalked. Beosig pounced before Loki did and startled him something fierce. That was the first and last time he ever made an attempt on the bird's lives. He taught the future feline members of the family that they were family members, not food and even protected them a couple of times from the others.


Along came the terrible twos as I like to call them. When Loki turned two, he was suddenly always somewhat mischevious, getting into various minor trouble. He liked to unroll the toilet paper - the more that was on the roll, the better. He would get into the trash can, climb up on the kitchen counters in search of a snack, and eat the lanyard from my badge for work. The last of those antics resulted in a trip to the vet since the lanyard had a metal crimp in the middle of it and could cut him up if left to sit in his stomach. We tried many things to break him of his horrible behaviors but nothing seemed to work. The only thing that made a difference was time. He eventually just outgrew some of those antics and turned into a very nice cat.

When we later had to have his buddy Mischief put to sleep due to adrenal cancer, I was beside myself as I watched and learned that cats too grieve as humans do. He would sulk, disappearing for extended periods of time, coming out only to eat and drink. He would sometimes go sit in the ferret's room, sitting quietly as if he was waiting for her to come back. He did eventually snap out of it, but it took a while.

When Loki returned to his old self he started tackling people and the dogs from under the dining room table. He would wait for one of us to walk by and quickly dash out from under there, swipe a leg with a paw and run in the opposite direction, while looking back to see if we would give chase. At that time I decided it was time to get him a new play mate. I could tell he was bored if he was resorting to that sort of behavior.

We researched cats to find a breed that had a similar personality to his and later brought home Nikita. It took him a few weeks, but he came around to her and took up almost a fatherly role. He would make sure her ears and face were clean and started acting almost as if he was a role model for her. They would sleep curled up together in bed.

About the time we brought Nikita into our lives, I learned about cat shows and decided I really liked them. I tried taking Nikita but she would rather hide and spit at people than show herself off, so we added Paladium to the crew. He and Loki hit it off from the start and in true masculine nature they would wrestle and tackle each other in play - something Loki wouldn't do with Nikita. When Paladium turned 9 months, he suddenly got spooky and his show days were over. So we added yet another cat - Divinity. Divinity turned the balance upside down for a while before everyone figured out the pecking order and calmed down. Her show career was short lived at best. She is simply just too bossy to be at cat shows. Enter cat number 5 - Picasso. He completely upset the balance at home, causing all kinds of chaos. But he did wonderfully in the show rings and loves going to this day. However none of the above mentioned cats is the subject of this post. The real reason I bring all this up is that when I took Picasso to the next show local to the Springs, I decided to enter Loki as well on a whim. Wow, how I wish I had done that earlier. Loki was a natural. He was unsure at first since he doesn't like car rides, but once he discovered it was all about him, he was ok with it. Yes, house cats can enter as long as they are not declawed and they are spayed or neutered once they are 6 months or older.

Loki won all sorts of ribbons at his first show. He was even among the top 5 household pets in show. We brought home many neat awards. I made sure to enter him in every local show there after and each time he did wonderfully, each time placing in the top 5 househould pets. In September 2007, he took best household pet in one of the judge's rings. Here is a photo from that event. He was quite relaxed as you can see. I was so proud. I'm glad I got to show him to the rest of the world. He was truly a handsome cat and had a great personality for the show ring.


Towards the end of last year, Loki suddenly developed a growth between his shoulders. I took him to the vet for a diagnosis and it came back as vaccine-induced fibrosarcoma. It took a while for that to sink in. I don't think it hit me until I called Beosig to tell him what it was. Apparently it is something that can take up to 10 years to show up. Things in the world of medicine have changed a lot in 10 years. When Loki was a kitten 10 years ago doctors vaccinated our animals more often than is deemed necessary now. I don't blame anyone, we did what we knew to be right at the time. There's no way we could have known then that it could cause cancer years later. Prognosis was grim for his condition. We were told we could do surgery but that even if we did there would be almost a 50% chance of the cancer coming back and that it should be followed with chemo therapy. I was also told that it might only buy him a few months. I couldn't bring myself to do surgery when the outcome didn't even guarantee any advantage. I was told he may live another 6 months at most, that the tumor would grow and interfere with his mobility and he might lose weight. He would be in pain at some point and we'd need to manage that with medicine.

As an alternative, the doctor suggested we try a medicine that is commonly used in dogs to help shrink tumors. Artemesinin. It is a relatively inexpensive herbal drug used to treat malaria but which seems to also have a desirable effect on cancer. So we gave it a try. At first it seemed to work. The tumor was shrinking! And then suddenly, it just seemed to lose its effectiveness. The tumor grew - first it was the size of a tennis ball, then a softball and finally, and quite suddenly it covered both shoulders. At this point Loki seemed to slow down significantly. I took him into the vet and they prescribed some pain killers and antibiotics since this particular type of tumor can absess and the doctor felt that is what was happening. Within a couple of weeks, Loki degraded to the point that he no longer wanted to leave the bed he slept on. He would spend all day and night there hardly moving at all. At times he wouldn't even come downstairs to eat which is not like him. It was time to make the dreaded decision that we knew was coming. A call was placed and the
appointment made.


Today was that day. While I wouldn't say it was the hardest decision I ever made, it certainly wasn't easy. It's hard to let go, to a friend and companion of over 10 years. Yet to ask him to stick around would not be fair. Today he suffers no more. May he rest in peace.