Sunday, January 28, 2007

9 lbs

22.5 inches long

God help me.

Lucky was born on Thursday, January 25, 2007, at 3:25pm.

He has a nice head-full of black hair.

His hands are so big.

His thighs are those of an SEC linebacker.

He's very peaceful and pleasant.

He squeaks more than he cries.

He coos.

He sleeps.

He eats.

He poops and pees.

He kicks and squirms.

He snuggles.

He's gorgeous.

He picks his nose.

For goodness' sakes! He's goll-dang GIFTED!!!

He's perfect.

More pics at my flickr page:

Now all we have to do is feed, bathe, diaper, love, care for, teach, protect, nurture.......

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Ode to Pregnancy
Movement 3
"Go into the light, Lucky"

4:00 am

achy hips

Lucky's hiccups

leg cramps

no food or drinks after midnight

very hungry

bags are almost packed

Stinkerbell is very excited

so are The Mighty Hunter and I

wishing I'd eaten constantly till 11:59 pm

tired but can't sleep


this is the end of this stage in my life

strangely saddened by this realization

what will he look like?

how big will he really be?

thankful for the blessing of being able to have children

thankful for The Mighty Hunter and Stinkerbell

Nanny, Pa, Grand-daddy, MsAnn, Beboo, Carlos Sanchez, My-Friend-Rachel, Barrie

thankful for them too

thankful for the prayers of friends, family and church

steeling myself for the changes that will begin within a few hours

evil alarm clock about to beep

time to shower and attempt to shave my legs

time to go have a baby...

When I return home and get a chance, there will be a post with pictures.

Wish us well and pray for us!

signing off...........

for now

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Ipod playlist for Lucky's birth

There are actually 2. This is the one that will keep me motivated = not resting times. I'll try to share the one for the "peaceful" moments later today - if at all possible. I've got a boat-load of crap to do today.

why? you ask.

see previous post!

(for typing speed's sake, I'm gonna skip the " " crap and not capitalize the song/album titles correctly. oh, and I'm not so big on correcting my typing this morning. sorry!)


A little more/A diamond in the rough/Jennifer Knapp
Always have, always will/ WOW2001/Avalon
Believe/Time/Third Day
Bitch/What women want/Meredith Brooks
Black horse and cherry tree/Eye to the telescope/KT Tunstall
By and by/Diamond in the rough/Jennifer Knapp
Cherry bomb/Words & Music/John Mellencamp
Diamond in the rough/Diamond in the rough/Jennifer Knapp
Dive/Speechless/Steven Curtis Chapman
Don't say goodbye/Time/Third Day
Find yourself in you/Hannah Montana/Everlife
Fire/WOW 2007/ Krystal Meyers
Happy/WOW 2007/Ayiesha Woods
Heartbreaker/Greatest hits/Pat Benatar
Hit me with your best shot/Crimes of Passion/Pat Benatar
I've always loved you/ Time/Third day
I can't do this/WOW 2007/Plumb
Into you/Diamond in the rough/Jennifer Knapp
Jack & Diane/WOrds & Music/John Mellencamp
Lay it down/Diamon in the rough/Jennifer Knapp
Let go/WOW2007/Barlow girl
Never bow down/Time/Third Day
Redneck woman/Here for the party/Gretchen Wilson
Romans/Diamond in the rough/Jennifer Knapp
Sky falls down/Time/Third Day
So long self/ WOW 2007/Mercy Me
The way I am/Diamond in the rough/Jennifer Knapp
Took my place/Time/Third Day
Undo me/Diamond in the rough/Jennifer Knapp
Walk away/Breakaway/Kelly Clarkson
WE belong/Greatest hits/Pat Benatar
What good/Time/Third Day
Whatever/Speechless/Steven Curtis Chapman
Who said/Hannah Montana/Hannah Montana
Whole again/Diamond in the rough/Jennifer Knapp
Wild night/Words & music/ John Mellencamp

Monday, January 22, 2007


I've been to the ob. I've been prodded and measured.

Still 2 cm.

Cervix is 80% thinned but still posterior.
(Demonstration of cervix position and how it should move before ready for delivery.)
edited to add: I deleted that uploaded file without thinking. sorry!

Ultrasound showed a big, chubby-cheeked baby.

"He's still a boy."

well, that's good, considering the process necessary to change from a boy to a girl!

The ultrasound can predict the baby's weight with a margin of error of +/- 1 lb.

He measured at 9.5 lbs.

Holy crap!


Ob is very concerned that I won't be able to deliver Lucky if I wait another week, much less until Feb. 1 (due date). A c-section at that point is very likely.

So, Thursday, January 25, 2007, we will arrive at the hospital to welcome Lucky to the Auburn Family Always.

If not sooner.

Wish us well!

9.5 lbs. God help me.

What song(s) would YOU choose to listen to while you labor and give birth?

I'm preparing my ipod playlist. I have 2 started.

The first one has songs that are full of attitude. They will help me keep my focus on getting this miserable pregnancy over.

The 2nd playlist has a more peaceful feeling about it. Once the epidural kicks in, I might get a nap. This playlist hopefully aid in this.

I'm seeking your input and suggestions for songs that I should include - or NOT include - in either playlist.

Come out from under your rocks and speak up on this!

I can't wait to hear your songs!

Sunday, January 21, 2007

Upgraded to the new Blogger version. Still playing with widgets. Bear with me.

I've been wondering if which word is correct...

"bear with me"


"bare with me"


"BARE with me!"

it's late and I'm silly

January 21, 2007

After months, possibly years, of dreaded thoughts, nightmares and anxiety attacks on half the expectant parents, the discussions became debates. Debates became light arguments. Arguments gave way to reasoning. Finally reasoning allowed saner minds to prevail. Minds that considered what the child's future held - when named after his BELOVED grandfather. The possibility of ridicule and endless "ROTHER?!?!?!? Roe-thur? How do you spell that?" questions were finally viewed in a not-so-positive light.

A unique name can be a gift.

A name reflecting one's heritage can be a wonderful memoir and honor of that previous generation.

A name weirder than any other name in the WORLD, not so much.

As negotiations drew to a close, Jimmy Carter's involvement in the Melodramatic Name Negotiations was not necessary. The parents were able to reach an amicable, equally-agreeable agreement on the poor child's name.

This all occurred well before the deadline of leaving the hospital and being forced by hospital administrators to complete the Social Security Administration paperwork.

The parents are satisfied. The process ended up being peaceful as well.

Two baby name books were consulted. Each parent thoroughly reviewed each name and marked their favorites using their method of choice. The mother's choices were marked first. "Comments" (not always kind ones!) were made by the father that occasionally irritated the mother and, at other times, emphasized the mother's reasons as to why the grandfather's name should NOT be used.


After the father's review of both baby name books, a list was compiled of the names that both parents preferred, in addition to names each parent favored in spite of the other's opinion.

This list was shortened to roughly 20 choices.

These choices were written on a white-board and located in a place of prominence at the bottom of the refrigerator door.

This white-board was seen several times each day by all members of the family and the few guests who braved the heat of baby name battle.

After several days, the white-board was removed. Both parents had determined that several names just weren't sitting well with them. These names were marked with an X and crossed out. (Since simply marking with an X OR crossing out the name was not sufficient, both methods were used. At this point, reducing the possibility of confusion was also important.) Thus reducing the LIST to approximately 5 favorites.

The pitiful parents favorite name choice was removed due to its extreme nationwide popularity. There is such a thing as being TOO common.

The mother's favorite name was eliminated.

The father reconciled himself to the fact that his son would NOT be named after his father.


The mother conceded to allow the grandfather's first name as the son's middle name with the agreement that one of 4 names be used as his first name, thus securing the name he would be known by, and referred to by everyone FOREVER!!!

After a long weekend and a hunting trip, the father was pressured into a decision. Surprisingly, he chose NOT to use the grandfather's name as the middle name. It was all or nothing for the father.

"Dang!" was the mother's secret reaction, "I could have settled this months ago!"

The mother made a final vote for her remaining favorite first name and suggested using the father's middle name for the son's middle name.

The father announced his decision via the daughter's whisper earlier this week.


Reviews at this time are generally positive.

The maternal grandmother hates it: "stupid name. Is that even a boy's name anyway? Why not use Brent or Kent? I like those names much better."

"uh, no. It's Lucky. Sorry!"

Lucky was a character played by John Wayne. This is enough of an endorsement for the father, and strangely enough, the daughter too.

Thus ends the Melodramatic Name Negotiations.

There will be no further updates on this story.

--Auburn Gal Always; BFP, PO'd

* (NOT his real name. His blog/internet name. Like the rest of his family of dopes, he will be referred to with a pseudonym hereafter. Sorry!)

Friday, January 19, 2007

Saying "goodbye"

(note: I began this on Friday and was, naturally, interrupted and unable to finish until Saturday morning. Stinkerbell is still sleeping this birthday morning. So, until she wakes up, *I* still consider her to be 5!)

Today is Stinkerbell's last day of being 5 years old.

She's terribly excited about turning 6 tomorrow.

Me, not so much.

Today is Clown Day at her school. We don't have a clown costume. We don't have a clown wig. I refuse to go buy or rent a clown costume for one day at school. Were this October or early November, I would probably splurge and buy a Halloween costume for Stinkerbell to wear today. But because her school has chosen mid-January to suggest the kids dress as clowns, my only options are to go to the local party store and buy or rent one there. No, thank you.

Ain't gonna happen.

So, she wore uneven pigtails with fluffy mismatched thingys around them. And sparkly stickers on her face. And purple eyeshadow and pink lipstick on her nose. A purple striped shirt, ordinary khakis rolled up unevenly and striped socks.

She was pleased. And it only cost me the extra dressing time this morning and the stress of being almost late.

At 2pm, this afternoon, her class has snack-time. Her lunchroom provides cake, chips and drinks for those having a birthday whose parents wish to spring for the cost of the "party". The cake and chips and drinks feed 20 kids - more than enough for her class of 15. $28. Not too bad. I'll arrive in time to pick up the party pack and slice the cake while sitting in a kindergarten-sized chair.

I think the kindergarten-sized chair will be the real challenge. Rather getting OUT of the kindergarten-sized chair. But it's worth it to make Stinkerbell feel special and let her celebrate her birthday with her school friends.

Tomorrow is her big day. She is terribly excited. She has told me that she will be a big girl tomorrow. And will have to pretend to be a little girl for me when I want to play that game.


It has a cruel new meaning I've never felt before.

A few weeks ago she asked me to brush her teeth for her.

"You can brush your own teeth. You do it every day. Why do you want my help with this?"

"Well, because I thought you'd wike to help me with it one moah time before I'm a big girl and all you can do is remember me being wittle."

"Come here you."

So, as of tomorrow, I have to begin remembering fondly and pretending pretending more.

That's ok with me.

Goodbye 5 year-old Stinkerbell.

Mommy loves you all the way to the moon and back to my heart.

I can't wait to hold my 6 year-old big girl.

I wonder if she'll feel different in my arms.

This growing up thing sucks.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

You know that saying about God not ever giving you more than you can handle?

well... I've been in situations in the past where I've had to tell Him, that I'm really NOT capable of HALF as much as He was putting on me.

This is deja vu all over again - almost

So, I'm 38 weeks pregnant and 2 cm dilated and have been asked by my ob to consider being induced next week.

I have a Christmas tree and 6 plastic storage boxes with Christmas decorations in my living room that have never made it into storage. The tree is a looooooong story. It's now officially ready to go to storage, draped in two of those saran-wrap-thin Christmas tree bags, very ghost-like. The ghost of Christmas just recently past.

I have a pile of laundry to do. I have 3 pairs of pants that I can wear - 4, if you count the pair I'm wearing right now that won't stay up AT ALL! because the rest were dirty - and feel the panic to keep as many as possible CLEAN just in case I go into labor and need to throw my clean pants into my bag and dash off to the hospital.

I have a daughter who will turn 6 on Saturday. She is having cake at school tomorrow and then a small family and closest friends party here at our house on Saturday. I still need to put her gifts together in a gift bag or wrap them in some pretty paper. And my house isn't clean (see above description of ghost of Christmas just recently past.)

The Mighty Hunter's dad's shower is scheduled for Saturday night at Uncle Carl and Bebboo's house. Everyone but The Mighty Hunter is really looking forward to it.

Bebboo's mother was admitted to the hospital Tuesday night (nursing home patient normally). She was not breathing regularly and not responsive. Still in hospital with very bad UTI. Should be released Friday morning.

Uncle Carl's mother (The Mighty Hunter's only living grandmother) went to the doctor yesterday with a cold and cough that she has had for a week. A WEEK. She wouldn't go to the doctor until another aunt (who is an EMT) loaded her up and pretty much forced her to go yesterday. Antibiotics and albuterol and sent home. Today, she was having chest pains and feeling bad again. Same EMT aunt takes her to ER. Being admitted to hospital tonight with very high white cell count. I haven't heard what the chest x-rays showed. Very likely a tough bacterial infection/bronchitis/pneumonia.

The Mighty Hunter is at the hospital checking on his grandmother and Bebboo's mom.

Oh, and Bebboo is the accounting manager for The Mighty Hunter's business. I'm her only back-up. And it's been so long since I've done most of her job that I don't have a clue about it. She left the hospital long enough today to do payroll. Thank you, Bebboo!

Oh, did I mention that I'm pregnant? And not really ready to have this baby? And I'm feeling a little overwhelmed.

And I made the executive decision to postpone (possibly cancel) The Mighty Hunter's dad's shower Saturday.

And there's this new dresser in Stinkerbell's room that needs assembling so that I can empty the smaller dresser that will be Peanut's dresser/changing table.

And I have diarrhea.

And my kitchen counter has 3 large bags of tortilla chips on it, waiting on the delicious cheese/sausage dip I planned to make for the dad's shower. And I don't have room in my pantry or anywhere except possibly the garage floor to store these in the meantime.

And I have 1 laptop needing setup for The Mighty Hunter's business and 3 more on order that will also need setup.

And I need to help my replacement at my old job with sales tax payments one last time.

And I think that there is possibly more coming at me.

Lord? Are You listening? Yea, I know You are. Well, I need You to pay really close attention, ok? I'm reaching my maximum capacity. If You would, I'd really appreciate it if You'd take a few things off my plate and give them to someone else. I think there's probably some celebrity or very wealthy person out there with at least one personal assistant and several other full-time staffers that handle things like vacuuming and dirty toilets. Maybe You could let one of those sheltered, spoiled people have a little of my load? Or maybe I could borrow one of their helpers to vacuum and clean my tub and drive me to and from all the mindless, endless errands I need to run - OOO OOO, better yet, why don't we let one of those assistants just run my errands for me!?!?

So, anyway, Lord... I don't think I can handle NEAR as much as YOU think I can. Thanks for Your faith in me and all. Thanks for trusting me with the things that are important to you, like my family and my friends. Thank you for putting them in my life. Thank you for caring for them. They're great and I love them. So, help me care for them.

Now, about this baby, Lord. Could you work it out that if my water breaks, it won't ruin my new sheets and quilt that The Mighty Hunter gave me for Christmas? That'd be great!

Oh. And I love you, God. You're the BEST!

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

My ob is a nut. I love it!

Today was one of those very UNpleasant dilation check appointments at the ob/gyn. When you're full-term pregnant, your cervix tries to hide somewhere between your shoulder blades. Well, this is EXACTLY the time that the darn little thing must be examined on a weekly basis.

"A little pressure. A lot of pressure. I'm sorry."

All to determine that, yes, indeed, I AM 9 months pregnant.


Well, last Tuesday I was 1 cm. (Fully dilated, ready to deliver is 10 cm if you didn't already know. But I can't imagine ANYONE that is reading my blog right now, with its Ode to Pregnancy theme, that wouldn't already know that.)

Today I was 2 cm.

The hibernating cervix also tries to turn itself away. Away from what? I don't know, but it turns away.

Posterior is the descriptive term. Meaning turned toward to look behind me between my shoulder blades instead of in front of me through my sternum.

Well, my ob today checked my dilation status. "2 cm, but still posterior. It will have to move from here to here (see video, I hope it posts right. this is my 1st video clip post.) before you're ready to deliver - unless we induce you." edited to add: I deleted this uploaded file without thinking about it. duh. sorry!

Note to The Mighty Hunter (like he even READS this!): I promise on the Good Book itself, I did NOT ask him to induce my labor. I did not even HINT at it. I know you don't believe me. You can ask him yourself when we see him next week!

So, next Monday, I go back to have my cervix checked again. Hopefully it will have dilated just a little bit more and moved a little bit down from the shoulder blade position to somewhere near my kidneys. That would be a nice change.

If not, we'll get another ultrasound to see if Peanut is a monstrosity of a baby (Stinkerbell was 8.5 lbs at 5 days late). If he's getting really big, ob is gonna strongly suggest we induce my labor again.

"Don't want to labor for long hours to learn the baby's too big and then do a C-section."

You don't scare me. Well, except for the demonstration of how the cervix has to move.

Now that's just not right.

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Ode to Pregnancy
Movement Two - The beginning of the END
"Is it too late to change my mind and find a surrogate?"

1 cm down

9 cm to go


Sorting through tiny, precious baby clothes

Braxton-Hicks with intense spasms/cramps in the bend of my leg

Groin pain

What did I do with the thing-a-ma-bob from when Stinkerbell was a baby?

Didn't someone already give me that gift?

"Some assembly required"

It says to use a screwdriver but I'd rather use the hammer


Sick fascination with baby shows on tv

Name negotiations enter the final phase

Can I PLEASE get some pants that will stay UP!!!

Suspenders? maybe

Can we do one more ultrasound and make sure that this is not a watermelon in my belly?


We have a middle name, let's just pick the first name now!

Keep clothes clean

Dash to hospital plan

Winter weather chances? oh crap!

Hospital is 4 miles away

But down a BIG hill

And across 2 bridges


I only want to eat chocolate


Itchy belly

The Mighty Hunter rubbing my belly

Peanut wiggling around as The Mighty Hunter rubs his cocoon.

Thinking how hard it must be for The Mighty Hunter to feel Peanut wiggle

The Mighty Hunter is a big wimpy baby

He's scared of me

Enjoying the last few days of having this power to instill fear with just a twitch of my eyebrow

Having the freedom to say WHATEVER I WANT and laugh it off

Thinking I should have packed our bags yesterday

This is my last baby

A little sadness

Real yearning to see my Peanut's little face and fingers and toes and tooshy


Bittersweet aching for Stinkerbell's big adjustments to life with a sibling

Making memories of this time with her

Wishing I had done many things before now


Not noticing Braxton-Hicks unless they include the blinding, breath-catching cramps

Needing to trim my toenails








GIVING UP control over my life

Seeing my full-body profile in a mirror

Swearing to never look in that mirror again

Feeling hideous

Even maternity clothes aren't fitting anymore

Wishing everyone would stop nagging me and let me do what I CAN do!

Appreciative of the concern everyone has for me

Laughing with Stinkerbell at how I look when I dance with her to Hannah Montana

Regretting dancing

Panting for breath from dancing

Panting for breath from walking to bathroom

Panting for breath at anytime

Fight constipation

Fight diarrhea

Can I PLEASE just be regular???

Wishing I would feel those Braxton-Hicks again

Stocking up freezer for those days that I will be hobbling around the house alone with a baby

Confident that I'll be sick of pizza before I run out of my stash

Dreaming of a chari/recliner/sofa design that allows me to slump and still have lumbar support and prop up my feet

Fear of my water breaing in a very public, very inappropriate, very embarrassing place

Because things like that NEVER happen to me at home in private

Can I PLEASE be allowed to actually QUIT work?

Thank you ISP for getting my hi-speed connection working at home again.


Getting ready for The Mighty Hunter's Dad Shower this Saturday

The Mighty Hunter is not happy about the Dad Shower

The Mighty Hunter: "why do I have to be tortured too?"

"Because it's only FAIR!!!"

Thankful that I've made it this far

Migraines are gone

Only typical pregnancy discomfort and complaints left now

Soon only pregnancy memories

Will look back someday and wish I could remember this time again a little more clearly than possible

Treasuring every last minute as much as possible

Wishing I could freeze time and live here and now forever

Wishing I could hurry up and get to the birth and move ahead

Wishing for the most exceptionally ordinary things




Wednesday, January 10, 2007

I want everyone to know the kind of husband I have!

Look above this post. See that ticker? That tells you that my days are dwindling down to the end.

(Cue the trumpet fanfare!!)

As of right now, and according to the Auburn Gal Always Countdown to An Important Day Rules*, I have 21 days left. This may or may not correspond exactly with the ticker above, but it will be close.

21 days. That's 3 weeks. That's not long.

Especially when I've been pregnant for 43 years, 7 months and 28 days already.

So here's what happened that revealed my husband's true, malevolent nature.

It was Saturday, I think. Which according to the Countdown to An Important Day Rule (CtAIDR), was 25 days left until Due Date. Except that I think it was about 6pm, so that made it only 24 days - again according to the CtAIDR*.

So Saturday evening, The Mighty Hunter in all his wisdom and sensitivity made a statement to his deranged, mean pregnant wife. It might seem to have been an innocent enough statement to most anyone else. And had he said it at a time when I'm not waddling-around, please-stop-poking-your-foot-in-my-ribs, Extreme Makeover: Pregnant Edition pregnant, it might not have been quite as, well, stupid or suicidal.

He says... (Get ready. You just won't believe it.) "You still have a month left."

He used to be what I'd call above average intelligent.

He used to be what I'd call NICE.

Then he goes and says crap like that.

24 days do NOT equal 1 month.

"Shut up." (evidence that I'm deranged. I don't remember ever telling him to shut up.)

"what?" holding back his evil, maniacal laughter as best he can

"24 days. Not a month."

"It's a month till Feb 1. blah blah blah blah blah"

"24 days and SHUT UP."

"It's a month blah blah blah month blah blah blah month"

"You need to shut up and listen to me. 24 DAYS.

Now he knows he's got me all kinds of ticked off. jerk

"month blah blah blah month" can't hide his maniacal, snicker anymore

"You're being mean to me. Stop saying that. I do NOT have a whole month left. 24 DAYS!"

"Owww! You hit me!"

"Darn tootin' I hit you. And it's 24 days!"

So, I would like to officially announce that The Mighty Hunter is no longer on Santa's "nice list". The Mighty Hunter is getting entirely TOO MUCH SICK PLEASURE out of torturing me about the length of time left until Due Day.

Evil, I tell you. Pure evil.

So, today, as he was torturing me again at his office while I checked my eBay bids, I told him that he was not just mean.

He's stupid.

He moved up to suicidal tonight when I began hitting him with the spatula.

He's just lucky it was a plastic kitchen tool!

I told him I was going to tell everyone I know about his meanness. "You know I'm gonna blog this!'

"I don't care. No one reads your blog anyway."

what a jerk!

So, here's the deal. I want all of you stalkers to come out from under your keyboards and send in your comments, demanding he apologize and rub my feet and belly.

Poor little, pregnant Auburn Gal Always

*Countdown to An Important Day Rule (CtAIDR): When counting down to an upcoming date that is important or just exciting or even unpleasant, one should begin marking the calendar with the #1 on the day BEFORE the Important Day. Continue marking the calendar counting up until the current date is reached. When discussing or dreaming of said Important Day and how many days are left, one must use the number written on that day's place on the calendar until noon (local time zone). After 12 noon passes (again local time zone), one may begin use the number written on the next day's calendar place. This continues until the countdown reaches the day before the Important Day. At noon (local time zone) on the day before Important Day, one may then say "there are NO more days" until said Important Day.

Yea, I know. I'm nuts. But it's my little OCD system and I love it. It has taken me YEARS to get it just right. So, of course, it works perfectly for me.

Until The Mighty Hunter loses his ever-loving mind and thinks teasing a mean pregnant woman is funny. Doesn't he realize he has to sleep next to me? And that I cook most of his meals - which he has to eat!


Now, let's see those comments prove him wrong!


Saturday, January 06, 2007

Extreme Makeover: Pregnancy Edition

No, I'm not getting a makeover.

I WISH! If Carmindy from What Not to Wear has an afternoon or weekend free to teach me how to apply eye-liner and hide my premature wrinkles - I'll make myself available!

I think Peanut has decided that he doesn't have quite enough room in my belly like it is. So, instead of moving out - which will happen soon, but not immediately - he's making the best of his current accomodations.

This morning I decided that he's moving furniture around and might be knocking out a wall.

I admire his initiative. But enough already!

We've got the cutest little bassinet assembled for him - Stinkerbell and I struggled through the instructions one night this week.

I have a baby shower scheduled for Monday night - my birthday.

I have selected the infant car seat I want - recent crash test results.

We got our cord blood banking kit yesterday. Not everyone thinks this is a good idea - for various reasons. I think most people choose not to do it for reasons other than their opinion of its future value (ie: cost, planning ahead, whatever). We banked Stinkerbell's cord blood as a result of losing The Mighty Hunters' mother to leukemia while I was pregnant. Because of her age and the rapid deterioration of her health, she was not a candidate for donating her own stem cells for transplant and none of her siblings were a match.

We decided that we would make sure that Stinkerbell (and possibly one of us) would have access to her own stem cells through her cord blood without having to go through the intense preparation steps required to donate one's own stem cells.

We are doing the same for Peanut. The annual storage fee (fixed at the time of child's birth) of $50 for Stinkerbell and $100 for Peanut will simply be an annual expense that we are glad to pay. The upfront fees have increased significantly since Stinkerbell's birth. But we feel they are worth the dip into our savings to afford. Our cord blood bank provides 12 month, interest free financing (with approved credit, of course) - or even longer finance terms to make the monthly payments more affordable.


Comparison of the many cord blood banks in the US

For those who aren't interested in paying for the collection and storage of their cord blood, it can be donated to transplant banks for transplant registry and donation toward those needing stem cell transplants and searching for an anonymous match/donor.

Info on donation of stem cells.

Info/listing of donation/transplant banks.

I'm off my soap box now. Thank you for your time.

The Mighty Hunter and Stinkerbell are taking me to dinner with some good friends for my birthday. Stinkerbell wants to make sure we sing Happy Birthday to her too.

For my birthday, I'm asking for extra sleep, a really good massage, shoes, a cuter than cute diaper bag that will double as my purse, a sleek new wallet to fit into that diaper bag/purse, relief of the constant guilt I inflict upon myself, good sound sleep, and (my favorite) a personal assistant (to do my laundry and put it away, wash my dishes and put them away, dust and vacuum, pay my bills, buy my groceries). That's all.

I'd settle for a really good nap without it ruining my night's sleep.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

You think you know someone.

And then BAM!!!

You get blind-sided with the news that you didn’t really know them at all. They’ve been telling you things to keep from hurting your feelings. For years this has been going on.

14 years of marriage.

14 seemingly pretty happy years.

Yea, we fuss. We disagree. We lose our tempers. We yell about crap. But I always thought there was this foundation of mutual admiration and trust.


Well, as my mother would say, “that’s shot all to hell and back.”

You see, I’ve have a few recipes that are his favorites. One particular meal is made for “special occasions”. I had thought for years that it was his top-shelf favorite.


It seems that “all year long” he craves – yearns for – only one very simple meal.

The Southern traditional New Year’s Day dishes.

Black eyed peas and hog’s jawl.

Now, I understand that it is possible that in some regions of the country – even world – that one might not be familiar with the hog’s jawl part of this meal. It’s really nothing special or exotic. It’s the very fatty meat from – yup – the hog’s jaw. It tastes a lot like bacon – only chewier. And just like bacon, it is usually smoked before packaged for retail sale. You cook it the same way as bacon, in its own fat.

Drain it on a paper towel before eating to reduce the incredible greasiness of it.

Whatever brand I bought this year tasted better to me than previous years. Stinkerbell enjoyed it. The Mighty Hunter enjoyed it very much but wished I had bought the same brand as previous years – he prefers the tougher chewier cut.

Anyway, we ate our black eyed peas and hog’s jawl for wealth and health in 2007.

And I realized that The Mighty Hunter would rather I open a can of black eyed peas and cook some jerky-like version of bacon than cook my “famous chicken and Alfredo sauce.”

I’m disappointed and disillusioned.

I’ll get over it.

And he’ll have to wait till 2008 to get his hog’s jawl again.

Look out, Mighty Hunter, Weight Watchers is moving back in our house!