Pregnant Thanksgiving Cold

I haven't had a cold this bad in a while and it's just a little bit cruel that it's happening at 38 weeks pregnant. I blame my petri dish daughter, although she never seems to fall as hard as the adults in her life. I was just starting my slippery slope downwards at thanksgiving, which was spent with friends at a table that continues to collect random people who don't have family in town (or who choose to not spend it with their crazy relatives....or crazy relatives of relatives). My 2.75 year old ate an entire turkey leg by herself, which is the size of all her limbs put together.

By friday, my cold was growing hourly, but i was able to keep it together to go to work, but by the time i was home, my voice was shot and my throat felt like it was molting from inside.

On saturday, The LissyJo clan bucked up and pulled it together to drove to the cabin via little falls to pick up my favorite recliner from my youth--actually a recliner of my mothers. Have you noticed that you can't really find a small rocking chair that is upolstered, rocks *and* reclines? OH, and is not a glider? Picky, i know, but after exhausting myself finding one just like what i grew up with, my parents consented to me borrowing The one i grew up with. Why little falls? To spice up the drive. My husband and i enjoy exploring little minnesotan towns that manage to conserve their historic downtown...which little falls has done.

By today i was sure to regain my voice, but my throat had other ideas. It decided to turn bright red and prove that there are worse things to complain about than being 38 weeks pregnant. My lovely husband did a late night drive to walgreens for ice cream and cough drops to shut me up, but quickly realized that even without a voice, i can still complain.

Sense of Identity

The other day, i was having a conversation about color with my daughter. We were discussing the color of trees, grass, squirrels, etc. She looked at me and said, "I'm white color. And you're white color too!" *sigh* Perhaps a conversation for another day.

Are You Kidding Me?

Our tivo list has been short, so we were exposed to some commercials on tv last night and came across this commercial with Harry Connick, Jr. for a phat Lincoln SUV gas-guzzling, overpriced pimp mobile. The commercial sets harry up to be a hometown boy from new orleans getting a glimpse at the damage done by hurricaine katrina--As if he was personally damaged by the hurricane. As you can probably tell, it bothered me. Am i honestly supposed to believe harry suffered at all due to the hurricaine? If he even had a home in new orleans, i'm sure he had the resources to not be in it when the hurricaine hit. It takes balls to take on the suffering of a new orleans resident when you're a white kid born born to a lawyer and a state supreme court justice....oh, and rich. And now you're "helping" your brothers and sisters in the hometown by driving around in a rediculous (in a bad way) vehicle providing crawfish and love.

Prego

Last night, i was awoken with the baby using my heart as a punching bag....at least, that's what it felt like. Or maybe it was using the inside part of my ribs as a xylophone. Nonetheless, it's decided to no longer grow outwards, but upwards. Maybe it will come out of my mouth. Science tells me my mouth isn't as stretchy as the primary route, but i'm always up for a challenge.

What's a NP?

I went to a party last weekend and was introduced as a Nurse Practitioner. Someone asked, "What is the difference between you and a doctor?" Another person answered on my behalf, "She actually cares if and when you're not actually sick yet!" What a perfect description. It made me feel proud that the word on the street is that NPs are more about health promotion than physicians. I know this is changing and a physician could argue about this.

I know not everyone knows what a NP is. The other day, when someone heard i was a nurse practitioner, they responded, "My sister is a nursing assistant." Hmpf. And my cats breath smells like cat food.

My Brother, the Asian-American

Ok, my brother is not asian-american, but he sends me email alerts to local events about being asian-american...including Walleye Kid: The musical and Asiamnesia, both by Mu performing arts. He also sent me a link to a youtube clip of Heidi Adelsman, a s. mpls korean adoptee (also a longfellow resident who is a mother...sound like anyone?) who wrote a piece in Oustiders Within. Ok, i didn't write a piece in Oustiders Within and i don't have an african american adopted brother, but she sounds like someone i'd really like to know.

Breast is Best

I just finished a week long, 46 hour conference on breastfeeding. What can you learn in 46 hours about breastfeeding? I didn't learn a whole lot, to be honest. What i did learn could have fit nicely in 8 hours. But, the conference wasn't necessarily aimed at someone who has had the experience i have had and the education i have had. It is a requirement for me to do these hours to sit for IBCLC (board certified lactation consultant), although after taking the course, i believe i'm a "lactation educator," which means little to you or i.

It did re-fuel my excitement about breastfeeding and starting a breastfeeding support educational group for postpartum women at my clinic. It also got me excited about having a baby. Not only about the breastfeeding--afterall, i just about quit breastfeeding on day 4 with my daughter and i was well into the breastfeeding education as an OB nurse at this point (i didn't give up and am very glad i didn't). I'm excited about having a little baby. I'm excited about enjoying the experience instead of being anxious and on edge over every "decision" that had to be made about having a little one. Little did i know at the time, there is very little decision making with a newborn and i think i might have enjoyed the experience a little more if i would have gone with the flow.

I also learned that sitting on my ass for 46 hours in an uncomfortable chair is bad for a pelvis carrying a 35 week old pregnancy. I think it did crack in half and my "muscles" are doing little to prevent it from falling apart. Ugh. 5 (probably 6) weeks to go!!

Guess How Much I'm Better Than You

The toddler has found interest in a book she has hidden in her book box: Guess How Much I Love You. She got it as a gift from a relative but we never really read it much to her because it bugs me. Now my daughter has decided she loves the book a lot. And i'm forced to read it. A lot. Does this "classic" book bug anyone else? It reminds me of certain people i know who always tries to out-do you whatever you say. You tell them you had a bad day. They tell you they had the worst day. You tell them how cool it was. They tell you they experienced way cooler. The same thing happens in this book. Instead of embracing the poor little bunny's love, he has to out-do every single thing he says. IT'S ANNOYING! Even when the poor kid falls asleep, probably thinking they can do nothing to love the big hare enough, the big hare is out-doing his last sleepy statement. What a jerk. If i were little nutbrown hare, i'd scram. Nothing says big nutbrown hare is his primary caregiver.