ginny at work

for the Ginny photo addicts who must be appeased at all costs.  Here is your “fix” for the day.

This was taken back during the Christmas break when I brought Ginny to work with me for one day. I’d forgotten about it, but we just cleared off the work camera and these showed up.

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Just thought you would enjoy seeing it.

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movie review

okay, football season is over, Ginny is feeling better and it’s time for my first movie review of the 2009 non-football viewing season.

I watch a movie this weekend.  FOUR TIMES.

My five month old laughed, squealed and bounced her way through it.  Almost singing along with the catchy songs.

any guesses which  movie?

I’ll help you along.

the reviewers panned it.  Said it was too silly.  they said the actors couldn’t sing.  They said the whole thing was too contrived.

I totally disagree.

They sounded to me like real people who are not professional singers.  The story was perfect.  Yes it was silly, but it was also real.  Real people are inconsistent.  Real people do act silly and outrageous sometimes.  Real people don’t always sing on the right key or have perfect hair.

Real people make mistakes, and sometimes they come back home to roost in unexpected ways.

And real people have real bodies, that age.  And don’t necessarily look as good in a tight 70’s glam rock outfit as they used to.

Yes, the movie I watched FOUR times in one weekend was Mama Mia.  And, are you ready for this? Martin watched it with me.  All Four Times.  We watched it straight, then we did the director’s comments  twice through(which were really good by the way) and then we did the karaoke version.

And if I get a chance, I’ll watch it again.  Yes, Pierce Brosnan and Meryl Streep  have aging voices. Who cares?  I think it came across as people who used to sing in a band but now are older.

anyway, loved it, loved it, loved it.  Silly, sweet, funny, touching, tender, and real.

Anybody wanna come over and give me an excuse to hit “play” again?  it is still in the DVD player. Just waiting.

Mama Mia….here we go again………………………

update on Ginny’s RSV

okay, we saw the doctor Wednesday and she said that Ginny was very very much improved and that she is gonna be fine.

the big thing now is to keep from re-infecting her, or adding any new infection on top of the one she has just fought off.

So Martin and I are sort of in a limited version of quarantine.  There is a certain amount of danger in that we are both still in work environments where we can’t control the state of the people we interact with all day.  But we try to mitigate that by hand washing and such.  the radical change in our lives is that we aren’t allowed to take Ginny to any of our usual places.  We can’t take her grocery shopping, or go out to eat with her (restaurants ARE her favorite place to sleep you will recall), or bring her to choir, or even church. Our friends are all convinced that we have dropped off the face of the earth.

But really, we are still here.  We are just living in a “very quiet style”

Continued prayers are appreciated.  My mom also got RSV because she is older and has already weakened lungs.  So it hit her kinda hard.   The timing was such that we don’t know if she gave it to Ginny, or if Ginny gave it to Grammy.  It really doesn’t matter.  But she too is feeling much better now.

mom-cuts….aren’t

I want my long hair back.

Frankly I could just strangle all the people who ganged together to convince me that short hair was the best choice I could make as a new mother.

What was I thinking?

let’s walk through this, slowly.

Back when I had long hair I had lots of different, elegant looks available to me.  I could spend hours styling it, or just braid it back to get it out of the way.  Took about 90 seconds to braid.  No big deal.   I  washed my hair about once a week.  It was very healthy and strong.   I almost never used a hair dryer or curling iron on it.   If I needed curls I could roll it up in baby socks like my mother used to do before bed and when I wake up – curls!.   And here’s a new flash, most long hair styles that involve being pulled up can be accomplished even if my hair was shockingly dirty.  All I had to do was pull it up in a pony tail, wrap the tail around a couple of times, pin it and voila! a bun.

No muss. No fuss.  No issues.

But now that my hair is short I have to wash it, blow dry it and style it (which takes about an hour and half) every two days or it looks HORRIBLE.  And all that styling (heat, products and more products)   is really drying out my hair.

Now, you tell me, what mother of a five month old regularly has an hour and a half to spend on nothing more than an attempt to look presentable for work every other day?  And that’s assuming something nasty and/or sticky hasn’t been added to my hair by the aforementioned five month old just for fun on one of my “non-hair styling days”

How would YOUR boss react if you said, hi! So Sorry I’m late, but my child put her sticky hands in my hair and I know you want me to look professional, so I just had to stop everything, find a sitter, and re-wash and style my hair.  Now, what did I miss at that 10 o’clock meeting?

Folks short hair is a mom-cut ONLY IF YOU HAVE SERVANTS OR A LIVE IN HAIR STYLIST.  or if you are willing to have it completely air dried and flat I suppose.  But I can’t do that.  I have a traditional front desk receptionist type job.  I do a lot more than that, but I also have to be presentable, professional and pleasing to look at.  Its part of my JOB to set a certain …tone for the office.

So I am officially going back to long hair.  It’s gonna take a while to grow out.  But in the mean time, if you run into me….please don’t compliment me on the cute haircut.  Yes, it is cute.  Yes I can OCCASIONALLY make it look enough like Beth Moore to make it worth while, but it’s a lot of work and I am sick to death of it.

This has been a public service announcement on behalf of any mom considering getting a short haircut.

oh, and Ginny is doing really well.  Thank you for all your prayers.

little things DO matter

This morning my husband and I were talking about trips we had taken together and he did something that stunned me.

He remembered an exact sentence of mine, about something relatively inconsequential from a conversation that happened at least 3 years ago!

I can’t say that I was instantly impressed.  But upon reflection, I think that I am going to cherish that for a very long time.

When I got to work my co-workers were all trading stories about how their various spouses or boyfriends had messed up on the gift giving portion of certain holidays.  Valentines being one of the popular ones to rant about.

We laughed, we comisserated, and we ranted and laughed some more.

I bragged on my man for his annual habit of walking to the florist, buying a small bouquet and HAND DELIVERING them to me at my office in front of everyone.  I also told the story about one Valentines where he forgot and the (in retrospect) hilarious mess-up that ensued.

But now that all that is over and I’m sitting at my desk, it occurs to me that I didn’t brag on my man enough.  Or rather, I didn’t brag about the right thing.

The right thing is this:

He remembered, for no real life-changing reason, my exact words in a random conversation.

Which proves that He Pays Attention.

I didn’t ask him to prove anything, and he wasn’t doing it deliberately, it just happened naturally, in the course of a random conversation.  wow.  Makes me feel very warm and fuzzy……and very very loved.

So if there are any guys out there reading this (highly unlikely, but whatever) know this.

You can buy your lady anything you want, you can write her long flowery poems, but what really does it for us: pay attention to us.  Show us in the little ways, every day that we matter to you.

And to my husband – I love you Martin.  You amaze me constantly, and I thank God for bringing you into my life.

Happy (almost) Valentines dear one.

Your “Deir”  Deirdre

in-take and out-go

nope this is NOT a post about the economy or my personal finances.

This is just a note to say that Ginny is doing okay still.  The breathing treatments are helping with that aspect of her sickness.

She still doesn’t have a fever, so that’s good news.

But she had some eating troubles yesterday.  Well….not so much trouble eating, but trouble keeping it down.

She consumed 21 ounces, but over the course of the day approximately 6 of it ….left her.  precipitously……all over my mom.

Not all at once of course.  It was on two separate occasions.  Might have been better for my mom if it had been all at once.  Then she would only have had to get cleaned up and change clothing once, instead of twice in one day.

*sigh* oh well.

The major worry for me at this point is that Ginny’s total intake levels dropped down to essentially 15 ounces in a 24 hours period, when she typically takes 30 ounces a day.

So pray that she keeps her food down and that we don’t have to start worrying about dehydration and all the attendant problems that come with it.

thanks,

Deirdre

baseball bat sucessfully applied to nurse

okay not really.

mostly the metaphorical bat got applied to my overactive guilt complex.  Thank you for all your encouragement, comments and prayers.

So this morning at 4 a.m. Ginny was breathing really heavily.  wheezing and rattling and just having trouble.  She wasn’t struggling per-se and she still had no fever, but…

yes, sad to say I, logical I,  am not immune to

first-time-parent-paranoia

apparently neither is my hubby.

We both listened to Ginny breathe, clocked the seconds till we could expect her breathing treatment to work, waited …..and waited……

“well it’s kinda better. ”

“yeh, a little bit.  sorta.”

“um, you know, it’s not really any better is it?”

“no, you are right, it’s not.  Shes still struggling and rattling”

“well, we have two hours till the doctor’s office opens.  Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yep.  Let’s go camp on their doorstep and be there when they arrive”

So that’s what we did.  We were there before the nurse opened the door.  We got to see Dr Jenny again and clarified a lot of stuff.

First of all, my written instructions which said to only give the albuterol “every 4 to 6 hours as needed” ARE correct.  BUT she clarified the “as needed part” to mean that Ginny basically is in a CONSTANT STATE of “as needed” right now. And will be for the foreseeable future.

oh.  okay.  Then why oh why did they bother to include the words “as needed”??????  Turns out they have to say that for some obscure reason.  Whatever.

Also it turns out RSV can hit old people really hard too.  So I’ll give two guesses as to who else in our family now has RSV…yup, you got it in one guess.  My Mother.  As the daytime caregiver, we had to have my mother tested, to make sure she didn’t have anything she could pass on to Ginny right now.  So now they are both ensconsed in the nursery.  With individual nebulizers.  I’m starting to feel left out here.  Maybe I need a nebulizer too?  nyah.

The heavy sounds in her little chest are just mucous building up and we have to make sure she is getting alternating, four hour apart treatments of saline and of albuterol.  Which means she will be attached to the hated nebulizer once every two hours for the next two weeks at least.  Joy oh joy. (can you hear sarcasm in there somehwere? )

Oh and if someone can figure out when Martin and I are supposed to sleep I’d love to hear it.  Cause it turns out we are supposed to wake her up to give her the treatments every two hours.    Beg pardon?

Isn’t one of the cardinal rules : NEVER WAKE A SLEEPING BABY??????

Ever been in the hospital?  Ever been awakened every two hours by “helpful” nursing staff who just want to give you medication.  It’s a real bummer.  No one gets any real rest from two hours of sleep.

Poor kid.

On the other hand Ginny still seems cheerful. Sleepy, snotty, bleary eyed and wheezey….but cheerful.  Apparently she hasn’t yet decided to hate us for the breathing treatments, though from her language while the treatments are actually happening, you would think she was planning to murder us all in our beds.  This child can CUSS  a blue streak.  It’s all baby talk and screams, but even I don’t need an interpreter to understand.