I Swear, I’m Not Making This Up

Somehow the traffic ticket I got for an expired tag landed me in a courtroom full of shackled, orange-jumpsuit-wearing individuals pleading to a variety of criminal charges.

You might think the highlight of the day was the man wearing sixteen pairs of socks and no shoes who had his charges dropped as long as he promised never to return to Family Dollar. Or perhaps it was the man who had been out of prison for less than a year pleading for leniency because his “baby mama” needs help taking care of their three kids. But you’d be wrong.

No, the highlight of the day was the man who said, without a hint of irony, “Your honor, I plead guilty to urination, but not the ‘in public’ part — it was against the side of a building!”

In the Blink of an Eye

…a tiny baby becomes a big boy.

…a helpless infant becomes a running, laughing toddler.

… and an only child becomes a big brother.

It’s not a blink of an eye, of course, though it feels like it sometimes.

It took nearly seventeen months for that sleepy three-day-old baby who I held for the first time on a cold Sunday in November to grow into the wild, rambunctious, hilarious toddler who ran me ragged at the park Friday.

The conception of his younger sibling(s) took nearly as long. Henry was only three or four months old when his parents made a call to their lawyer and asked her to set in motion the process that would turn him into someone’s big brother. Since then, they’ve had nothing but headaches and heartbreaks. I haven’t detailed their journey because it’s not mine to share, but it hasn’t been an easy road. There have been problems with the egg donor, problems with the clinics, problems with the lawyer, problems with the surrogates…the list of problems goes on and on. There were times I thought they were ready to give up altogether. But they kept moving forward. And then suddenly all of the anticipation, frustration and fear came to a head in a single moment on Friday when the phone rang and we saw the name on the caller ID. I held my breath for a moment, waiting for the voice to come over the speaker phone. And then it came, uttering that beautiful word, “positive”.

Of course, the waiting continues. But now the waiting is joyful: we wait 6-8 weeks to find out whether one baby or two has taken up residence in the cozy womb of the wonderful almost-stranger who will bring us this gift; we wait four months to learn what color we’ll paint the nursery; we wait nine months to meet this sweet new child who will make their family complete.

It will drag on, I’m sure. There will be days when it feels never-ending. But then suddenly this baby too will be running around the playground climbing up stairs and sliding down slides. And we’ll look back on this day and wonder how so much time has passed in the blink of an eye.

Poor Baby

This morning, we took Delilah in for another round of shots. This is her fourth round, and the others went perfectly, so we didn’t think anything of it. The doctor gave us the standard lists of reaction signs to look for in the next couple of hours — swollen face, labored breathing, hives, etc. — and we nodded dutifully, never imagining we’d see any of them.

After her appointment, we brought her home and spent a couple hours playing with her and watching her. We went for a long walk, played fetch, etc. After that, she was pretty tired, so we put her in her crate for a nap and ran out to get lunch. An hour later, we got home and she was still sleeping. When Jamie opened her crate and woke her up to take her outside to go potty, her first reaction was, “She looks funny.” Her second reaction was, “Oh my god! Oh my god! She’s so swollen! Call the doctor! Call the doctor!”

We didn’t bother to call, we just ran straight to the car and floored it. Let me tell you, I’ve never been so glad that our vet is a mere five minutes away. (Though I have to admit, it felt more like five hours on the way there.) Jamie was absolutely inconsolable, and Delilah’s face was so swollen she was unrecognizable. Her face was probably close to three times the size it should have been.

We rushed inside the vet and held her up so the receptionist, who was on the phone, could see her. Never one to avoid stating the obvious, I piped up with, “She’s having an allergic reaction!” The receptionists eyes widend in shock for just a second before immediately ending the call, snatching her from my hands and disappearing into the back. She came back ten minutes later and told us that Delilah was stable and the doctor was hooking her up to an IV. (The shrieks coming from the back room corroborated her story.) She also told us that when she approached the doctor, who was with another patient at the time, the doctor took one look at Delilah, grabbed her and ran. Not exactly comforting. What felt like twelve hours later — but was probably more like twenty minutes — the doctor appeared and assured us that Delilah was fine. She also told us that she might have partial hearing loss due to Delilah’s protests. They had to restrain her to get the IV in, and once it was in, she was still pissed and screeching.

They pumped her full of intravenous benadryl and steroids (awesome — that beotch is crazy enough without adding ‘roid rage to her repertoire) and kept her for five hours for observation. We picked her up just before they closed for the evening, and she’s been home for two hours now. She’ll be getting benadryl orally for the next three days, but otherwise she’s mostly back to her old self. Her face still looks a little swollen, but nothing like it did this morning. And it’s definitely not slowing her down — she doesn’t hesitate to whoop Winston if he gets out of line.

We’re just thankful that she’s okay and home with us again. We’re relieved, but also nervous about a relapse. I doubt I’ll get much sleep tonight. Still, a sleepless night is a small price to pay for the love of this little beast.

What I’m Doing…

Stepping into blogland’s 21st century and creating a twitter account. I’ve been thinking about doing it for ages, but finally broke down and did it today because Marilyn’s lovely little girl was due to arrive and I wanted to be among the first to know all the details!

If you have a twitter account, let me know so I can follow you and/or click the link in my sidebar to follow me.

Tornado Update

Thank you, to everyone who commented or emailed to ask if we survived the tornado. We’re doing just fine. We live a few miles from downtown, where the tornado hit, so while we had some horrific weather, the tornado didn’t touch down anywhere near us. We were actually driving through the city when it hit and had to pull over and stop because the rain was coming down so hard I couldn’t see the road. The winds weren’t particularly strong or scary, I was just worried about visibility. Aside from the driving rain, the cold water hitting the warm pavement was letting off steam that fogged the windows and clouded our view. But once the rain calmed down a little, we were able to get home and tend to our terrified dogs. We have no tornado sirens (and, honestly, nowhere to go should one sound) so we weren’t particularly worried. We watched a movie and went to bed, completely oblivious to the damage downtown. We woke up to a ringing phone and panicky friends and relatives who had seen the news coverage.

Saturday, we went to a baby shower for my cousin, who lives south of the city. We drove past downtown and gaped at the damage — even from the highway we could see mangled telephone poles, stripped billboards and shattered windows. Given where the damage seemed to be located, we half expected a call from Jamie’s boss today telling her not to come downtown. Emergency personnel asked those who don’t need to be downtown to avoid the area, and some of the damaged buildings are unfit for those trying to return to work. But the call never came, and Jamie showed up today and discovered that their building was basically untouched and the area directly around her building didn’t look bad at all, given her expectations.

So we’re safe and sound and just thankful the tornado didn’t touch down a few miles north.

“It was very surreal.”

All photos and quotes from the The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

An Impossible Task

A few weeks back, Kathy asked if I could post a photo of Winston and Delilah together so she could see their comparative size. What a brilliant idea! Only, every time I tried to take a photo of them together, it turned out like this:

Or this:

Because Delilah is EVIL. She just can’t stand near Winston without chasing or attacking him. For now, he can still outrun her. Heaven help us when she is big enough to catch him. Luckily she is a cute little devil. And I have to admit, I think Winston secretly likes her. Note the fact that his tail is up in these photos. Mr. Submissive is quick to tuck his tail when he’s scared, so this running and chasing thing…it looks suspiciously like playing. Just don’t tell Winston we’re on to him.

I did manage to get one semi-clear shot of them together.

Don’t let this pastoral scene fool you. Two seconds after the shutter clicked, Delilah jumped on Winston’s head and had to be physically removed. Evil, I tell you. Evil.

G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S

Actual phone conversation with Jamie today.

Me: Henry threw up all over my shirt and I don’t have anything to change into.

Jamie: Ew. What are you going to do?

Me: Well, I washed it in the sink with hand soap. So now I’m clean, but I smell like melon vomit.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Many moons ago, I publicly chastised Jamie for repeatedly failing to put the new roll of toilet paper ON the holder. Since then, I regret to inform you that not much has changed. Except that she is more aware of this and will often gleefully inform me that she put a new roll on top of the holder rather than replacing it.

Then Wednesday after work, we were doing a little cleaning. I was in the bedroom and Jamie was in our bathroom, when I heard an inexplicable: ClinkClinkGlubGlub. Followed by an, “Um…uh oh.”

Apparently, Jamie — in an effort to be loving — was changing the toilet paper, when the metal rod of the holder sprung from her hand into the flushing toilet. As fate would have it, the rod landed at the EXACT moment the water was at it’s lowest point and the flush was complete, meaning there was no way for Jamie to prevent certain disaster.

Three hours of googling, plunging and snaking to no avail and I was kicking myself for ever nagging Jamie to change the toilet paper.

Yesterday I spent all day waiting for a plumber. I called at 8am, and was told someone would arrive between 11:00 and 1:00. At 12:45 they called to say they were running behind. At 1:00 they called and said someone was in the area and on the way. At 2:30, I called them to make sure the driver wasn’t lost or dead. They assured me that he was not lost and would be there momentarily. I guess by “in the area” they meant “in the state”. Thankfully, this is where the incompetence stopped. The plumber who showed up was quick, capable and and polite. Thirty minutes later, he was on his way…with the mangled rod and $364 of our hard-earned money.

Sigh.

Dying From the Cute

This was taken a few weeks back during an unseasonably warm day and a resulting trip to the park. I completely forgot about it until I discovered it lurking on my SD card. How in the world could I have forgotten about this?