Tales From the Glider, Part Two: The Name Game

I was given an assignment by Go's cousin Aby to post in how we arrived at Olive's name and our other girls' as well. Her assignment couldn't have come at a better time since all I do is nurse my child--every two hours since she isn't gaining weight the way she should. A full feeding for my sleepy, sleepy child usually takes about 45 minutes, so I really don't do anything but nurse, nurse and nurse. And remote blog. I want my life back. Anyway, so I am welcoming any other blogging assignments anyone may have as it gives me something to do while I just sit there. And sit there.

So this is how it went all three times with naming our babies:

(About 3 weeks before the baby is to be born:)

Me: Hey, I wrote down a bunch of names I like.
Go: Oh, yah? Is Magdelena on there?
Me: NO!
Go: Why not?!!! I love that name. It just sounds so beautiful. Magdelena. Magdelena.
Me: I hate it. Here, look at my list and circle the ones you like.
Go: All right.

And we just kind of go from there; we usually like one the best and usually it is the same one. I noticed I tend to like names that invoke some sort of visual or feeling. Ruby--a gem/color. May--a very pleasant month. Olive--um...an olive...

The ruby is my birthstone and at the time, red was my favorite color so the name just spoke to me. Grace is her middle name, which is my Dad's great-aunt. She visited our family once when I was about 8 or so and stayed in my room. As a thank you, she gave me the only music box I've
ever owned and wrote me a letter shortly after she left; I was so excited to get something in the mail. I really liked her and the name as well. So that's how we got Ruby Grace.

For May, we were thinking Olivia May but wanted something more original. When Go suggested we switch it to May Olivia, it was lightening had struck--I knew that would be her name. May is Go's mom's and aunt's middle name. And now most people call her May-May, which is funny because that's how you say "little sister" in Mandarin Chinese. Since I taught art lessons at an art school with a predominately Taiwanese client base for about three years in high school, and really loved the kids and my time there, there's a special place on my heart for all things
Asian or Asian-inspired. So that's been cool.

Now Olive, we had a tougher time with. I hardly liked any names to begin with, but it was on the list. We both loved it, especially paired with Adeline, which was my Mom's great-aunt who she loved. We had second thoughts, however, after we told May we were thinking of the name Olive for her new baby sister and she said "OLIVE? No! We
should name her PICKLE!" Would she get teased for her name? Would she hate us? Or would it make her stronger and help teach her to have a sense of humor? After going back and forth, it really came down to the fact that it was the only name we both liked and we could totally picture a little Olive with our Ruby and May. And it totally fits her. We made the right decision.

So there you go. That wasn't that entertaining or funny of a post. I feel pressure now that Beth nominated me for Funniest Blogger. Hm. How can I make this post more funny? Would it be funnier if I admitted that most of the conversations Go and I had regarding names were when one of us was on the toilet? Nah, that'd just be gross.

I have completed my assignment. I'm up for more. Lay it on me, bloggy friends.

Sent from my iPhone

All in the Name of Tropicana Juice

Today Olive had her first outting. Yes, you guessed it--to Walmart.
Actually, before we went to the dreaded Big W, we went to this
discount grocery store first, which truly is worse than Walmart. Your
shoes stick to the floor. The shopping carts are all defective. I
suspect the majority of their employees to be on parole. I would not
be suprised to learn that the back of the store doubled as a meth
lab. The place smells like wet cardboard and expired food. Which is
no surprise because they sell food which is expired. BUT they also
sell Tropicana juices at half prices which are not expired. Just a
little sticky on the container. Miss Cheapy Pants is obviously not as
snobby as I am. But I'm ok risking my life going to this place and
it's all because of the juice. I love juice. I am a Juice Monger. And
I am allowing myself to drink it for just a couple weeks more before I
start trying to lose this baby weight I gained while pregnant. So. If
you see me in the next few weeks, which isn't likely since I'm in my
typical post-baby-hermit-mode and you see me drinking out of a flask,
know that it contains not vodka swiped from underneath the cash
register of my favorite discount grocer, but JUICE purchased from my
favorite discount grocer. Oh, Tropicana Orange Strawberry Banana,
what lengths of sticky linoleum would I walk just to drink you.

Sent from my iPhone

Olive's Ok...she guesses...

Tales From the Glider part one

Don't worry. This will have nothing whatsoever to do with
breastfeeding. Except can I just say how much I don't like it? I don't
do well with the whole "sitting still" thing. If you think I'm
exaggerating obviously you've never been in a church meeting with me.
Moving on.

So last night, I was upstairs here gliding and nursing when I heard
Go's cell phone ring while he was studying downstairs. He answered it
with a stiff hello, which told me he either a) didn't want to talk to
whoever was calling or b) didn't recognize the phone number the caller
was calling from. It ended up being b. His side of the conversation
went something like this:

-Hello?
-Oh, I think you have the wrong number.
-No, sorry. There's no one by that name here. What number did you call?
-Thats this number but...
-Nope. Sorry.
-Right. You have the wrong number.
-I don't know what to tell you. I've had this number for three years
now.
-Yep. I'm sure.
-Its all right. Bye.

Why? WHY is it that whenever someone dials the wrong number, they try
to talk you into being the number/person they were trying to talk to?
Like after you tell them that they've got the wrong number, they drill
you with questions and what do they expect? All if a sudden you're
going to say "Wait a second. You know what? I forgot. There IS a
Dolores here," or "Even though you and I both know you dialed the
wrong number, would it help if I PRETENDED to be Dolores?"

So annoying.

Sent from my iPhone

Dear Lazy Bloggy Friends

How bout you do me a solid and update your blogs? Did it ever occur
to you that there might be a poor, poor lady, just glider in her
glider, nursing her newborn 10 times a day/night and because she is
the opposite of a Super Nurser, cannot hold the bulky book she's been
wanting to read, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, and is sick to death of
watching homicide investigation shows and is only left with her iPhone
for entertainment while she sits there in her glider and glides and
gives milk? Perform this act of kindness, blog something funny and
entertain a nursing mother today. Please.

Sent from my iPhone

Testing Testing

Does this remote blogging really work? We shall see.

My Momus staying here in PA fir an additional week. Because I'm a
sissy and I want my Mommy, that's why.

Remote blogging! From Olive's room! Where I am nursing her right
now! Ew! Blogging and breastfeeding! Simultaneously! The horror!

Sent from my iPhone

Sick of Us Yet?

I have a feeling that these two are going to be a lot alike.

And Ruby took this one. Good job, Rubes.

Elated to be Related

I can put yet another notch in my "You Are Married to Your Spouse Thanks to ME" belt, otherwise known as the "You Guys Owe Me Big Time" belt. It is encrusted in diamonds, just like the city of Provo (where it originated) in case you were wondering.

Here's why:

Did you ever have a bestest besty friend growing up, one whom obsessed over the Beatles with you, consumed massive amounts of frozen yogurt with you, watched every single Hitchcock film ever made with you, memorized the Newsies soundtrack with you, cried with you every time Meg died and Jo denied Laurie, wore Birkenstocks with you, got annoyed with the same pesky boys with you, drove to seminary in the dark early hours of the morning with you, rode bikes with you, looked for stolen bikes with you, baby sat with you, worked at Chick's Sporting Goods and Hogi Yogi with you, jogged with you, jogged while eating Hershey bars with you, was on swim team with you, TP'd people's houses with you, Girls Camped with you, Youth Conference with you, skiied with you, Palm Springed with you, EFY'd with you, ate pepperoncinis with you, had Sunday night game night with you, had the same curfew as you, had the same futile crushes on various boys with you--though thankfully never at the same time as you, had endless amounts of inside jokes with you, and since you both were attached to the others' hip, applied to the same college with you, then roomed at college with you, was like a sister to you and together you vowed you would someday be related?

No? Man, you missed out.

I was lucky enough to have had (and still have) a friend like the aforementioned. Elizabeth Eaton Jex and I? We did it: at the end of July, we will be related.

Though it may look like it, we did not take each other to the prom.

We both had dates.
I swear.

[E: you may find this hard to believe, but this was one of the FEW pictures that did not have
a) at least one of us in our swim suits
b) someone else in the picture I would have felt obligated to Photoshop out
c) both of us covered in an assortment of condiments]

Elizabeth's little sister, Sarah Eaton, whom I would love and adore regardless of her last name, is marrying my brother-in-law: Go's little brother Harry this summer. She will make a stellar addition to the family.

Elizabeth and I. Related. Who would have thunk?

Six Days Old

Even though we're kind of busy over here

experiencing all varieties of postpartum delights,
Olive just wanted to say hi.

What Jewels, Exactly?

Yesterday I emerged from a nap to find a message from Ruby written in magic marker on an empty toilet paper roll. The message said the following:

"The bath rume is ful of jools."

Translation:

"The bathroom is full of jewels."

I have no idea what it meant, but I thought it was genius.

Olive Adeline Reynolds

First of all, thank you to everyone for the well wishes. I felt so loved, warm and fuzzy reading your comments and emails whilst writhing in my usual post-giving-birth agony, trying to recover in my squeaky and uncomfortable hospital bed. Now I'm home and hobbling around like an old man. But enough about me. Onto Olive's story.

Friday, March 13th:

Went in at 8 am for the induction.

Dr. Excellent OB swooped in, checked me, wanted to start me on pitocin before getting my epidural. I refused, he tried to change my mind, I still refused, he tried to trick me but he underestimated what intelligence I have left after 3 pregnancies. We had a thumb war and I won.

Got my epidural around 10:30 am. It worked like a champ.

Started on the pitocin and progressed swiftly. Neener, neener to Dr. Excellent OB.

Had water broken at 12.

"It's time to have a baby!" was announced by Dr. Excellent OB at 1:00.

Olive Adeline Reynolds was born at 1:09.

She came into the world bright pink and screaming like a maniac.

She was 7 lbs. 14 oz. and 18 inches long (or 18 1/2--call me a horrible mother but I'm not quite sure.)

So far:

-She's very, very, VERY sweet

-Is extremely interested in her sisters--especially Ruby but this is probably because so far May has kept a lengthy and quite aloof distance from Olive

-Wants to refind her thumb (I'm trying my best to discourage this but I think she'll eventually win, like Ruby did)

-Hasn't cried since her birth--just little mouse squeaks

-Wants to nurse and nurse and nurse

-Looks like a blend of her Mama and Ruby

-Looooves to be held

-Has the softest, most velvety pink yummy skin

-We absolutely love her

Tomorrow

I know I should be excited but right now I am only scared.

That is all.

Pay Back

I am not a superstitious person. At all. I don't knock on wood. I don't go around throwing salt willy-nilly. I avoid all cats, not just black ones. Hey, I even agreed to have my baby induced on Friday the 13th. And never have I not said something for fear of jinxing myself.

But today there's a little part of me that wishes I hadn't said I wasn't feeling miserable the other day. Because now I feel miserable.

Maybe it's payback from the universe for riding the motorized cart around Costco yesterday--I rolled past a very old lady in the produce section who definitely needed it more than I did. In my defense, it was my Mom who made me ride it. If I hadn't had ridden it, I would have heard "You really should have driven that motorized cart. You would feel a lot better, honey," for the rest of the shopping trip, the day, the week, my life. Plus, I really wanted to see what it was like to be Mommacita. It felt good. Mostly because I'm an excellent driver. It did not feel good, though, looking at the picture on my phone that my Mom took of me in the freezer section, which I quickly deleted because I looked like I belonged on that cart, which was gross and wrong. I'm going to really, really like being not-9-months-pregnant soon.


As a side note--I SOOOO don't want to go into labor until my induction Friday morning. I don't know if I've said this publicly or not but the reason for the induction is because I have babies extremely fast, like scary-fast. My labor with Ruby was 2 hours, which is incredibly quick for a first baby. And then the second time around, after they broke my water with May 4 days early (just because my OB was going out of town and I wanted him to deliver me) she was out about 15 minutes later--I remember him saying to me "Whoa, unless you want to have your next baby in your living room, you'll need to be induced with your third." So you can understand why I am fearing going into labor before Friday morning. Unless of course, you are the man who lives with me who is under the opinion that going into your labor on your own is much healthier and less risky than being induced, whole-heartedly believes his super-speedy race car driving skills to be top notch and just because he went to medical school, thinks he knows how to deliver a baby if needs be. No thank you.

Around Here

Boring updates!
ALL IN INCOMPLETE SENTENCE FORM! FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT!

1. Saw recipe for Potato Cinnamon Rolls. Am making them now before the Annie Reynolds Weight Loss Fest of '09! starts in approximately 4 days. High hopes for this recipe--completely trust the source. Source=fabulousness. Am fully aware that if Potato Cinnamon Rolls are not made/eaten before the Annie ReynoldsWeight Loss Fest of '09! begins, it will be that much easier but do not care. Am weak. Am blaming it on Sister Baby.

2. Am not completely miserable. Was expecting to be at this point. Am happy.

3. My mom in town. Asked when my friend is due with her baby. Told her the date. Mom replied "Oh. Mickey Dolenz's birthday." Was funny. Had to be there. And have to know my Mom. Also have to think The Monkees are funny.

4. Repeatedly called her sister "a toot" after I repeatedly told her not to. May sent to time-out. Tried to make up for it by then calling Ruby "a sparkly butterfly." Did not work.

5. Watched Australia last night. Film style was not cohesive. Drove me crazy.

6. Want epidural to work. Want a healthy baby. Want an easy recovery. Wanting a lot lately.

I Prefer Apples & Cinnamon over Peaches & Cream

We really try to limit the amount of TV our kids watch. Go likes to tell them that it turns their brain to oatmeal.

I think since a lot of parents also feel this way, the makers of kid TV try to make shows more inter-active-- Jo-Jo's Circus, Little Einsteins and the like, where someone's always enthusiastically demanding things like "Now stand up!", "Say "Andalé! Louder!", "Hop on one foot!", "Now clap your hands! Faster! Faster!"...


Do your kids actually DO any of these things or do they just continue to sit there in an oatmeal-for-brains stupor like mine do?

Things That Help

When you are having a stressful and yucky day, here are some things that will help make you feel better:

ALL IN RUN-ON SENTENCE FORM! JUST FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT!

-Receiving a very cute bouquet of flowers from your sweet MIL which is held inside of a yellow colinder which happens to be something you've always really wanted but have never bought because Miss Cheapy Pants told you that even though it only cost like $8, you have a perfectly good plastic white colinder sitting in your cupboard at home that works just fine, so just keep on walking, sister.


-Venting to a loyal friend and realizing she would throw the first punch if you asked her to because she knows you are just too tired to do it yourself and then imagining that loyal friend actually throwing a punch and getting a good 5 minute chuckle out of it.

-Reading a comment made by your mother about how much she loves Justin Timberlake and realizing she might just be a cougar and what a funny post that would make, especially since she hates the term cougar but the fact that she is coming to visit just one day after she would read the My Mom is a Cougar! post, it is highly likely that upon her arrival, while waiting for her baggage at the airport, she would all of a sudden reach over and claw your eyes out because she's a cougar and that's something that cougars do.


-Staying up way, way too late while eating cheesecake and gabbing with girlfriends.


-Having a husband on a rotation that allows him to actually be home to watch your kids so you can go stay up way, way too late, eat cheesecake and gab with girlfriends.



-Having a husband on a rotation which allows him to get your daughter on the bus in the morning while you go sweat off your frustrations at the gym.

-Knowing that very soon, you will be holding and squishing a baby that will probably look something like these squishy babies:

Jimmy Crack Corn and I Don't Care

Raise your hand if you're a Jimmy Fallon fan.

Raise your hand if you loved, just as much as I did, how he'd start laughing in just about every skit he was in on SNL. Watching him try to cover up his laughter was often funnier than the actual skit, right?

And raise your hand if you loved him paired with Tina Fey for Weekend Update.

Now raise your hand if you witnessed the obvious chemistry these two had.

Yah, I know. Me, too.

But then--what the heck?, right?--she turned around and married some dude and had a kid!

So did anyone else when watching the extra features on the Mean Girls DVD when Tina wistfully said she cast the kid who played Aaron Samuels because he reminded her of Jimmy Fallon, also fly off the couch with righteous indignation proclaiming that "I KNEW SHE LOVED HIM! I KNEW IT!?"

ME! TOO!

Well, I DVR'd Tina Fey on Jimmy Fallon's new show last night. Though the tension is no longer as palpable, I still think they belong together. Who's with me?

Good Birth Memories, Part 4

I had a rocky beginning with Ruby. I was expecting to again with May but I really didn't. Those first few weeks I look back to with great fondness--it was a really happy time. Mostly because I wasn't crazy. The only weird, hormonal Baby Blue-ish moment I ever experienced was at a sushi bar about a week after May was born. My Mom was still in town and watched the girls while Go and I went out for sushi since I hadn't been able to eat it for 9 months, which is one of the biggest sacrifices of pregnancy if you ask me.

I don't remember the exact conversation or what led up to this but I distinctly remember thinking about my new little baby at home and literally weeping over my plate full of Spicy Yellowtail, Eel Avacado, Salmon Cucumber and Shrimp Tempura Dragon rolls, blubbering ultra-dramatically "I just love her so much!" After stuffing the huge end of the Dragon roll into my mouth, with tears streaming down my still-puffy from birth face, I looked at Go sitting across from me and he was obviously most amused. With my mouth full of sushi I said, very lady like, of course "Arm habing a bahbee boos momum rah naw, arn I?" which if you enter that into Google's Talking With Your Mouth Full translator, means "I'm having a Baby Blues moment right now, aren't I?"

Boo. Hiss.

March.
In like a lion.
Blah, blah, blah.