A Utah Family Travel Writer's Adventures with Altitude
In the infamous words of ABBA:
“Mama Mia, Here We Go Again.”
Yep, I am with child a second time around and am due in July. The hottest month of the year. When 98 Degrees is not just a has-been boy band. My hubby Jamie is already saving money for the air-conditioning bills. And earplugs. To think I thought I was overheated when giving birth to Hurricane Hadley in May last time around….
Thanks to the many well-wishers out there regarding our Baby #2 announcement! We’re thrilled and full of trepidation at the same time. Thrilled because it’s such an honor and a privilege. Full of trepidation because we have barely survived our 18-month-long Hurricane. Case in point: Check out my “Stork Report” from Hurricane Hadley; a bit lengthy but definitely worth the WILD ride (and I’m not just talkin’ about them thar stir-ups….)
Monday, May 24th, 2004–More than one week before Hadley’s due date.
Busy making final preps on the new house until late. Jamie is incredibly stressed with projects at work and yearns to skip out. His final words to Hadley before bedtime: “If you come tomorrow, I’ll buy you a car when you’re 16.” Daddy’s final lesson before becoming a parent: be careful what you wish for. It may actually come true.
Tuesday, May 25th-
1, 3, 5 and 6 a.m.–As usual, Amber waddles her way to the potty.7 a.m.–Waddles to the bathroom. Discovers something unusually wet–her water possibly broke! Calls the doc who tells them to come in. Jamie rejoices about starting his two-week “vacation.” The reality of his car pledge later hits him with great force.
9 a.m.–Meet with the doc. Performs various tests. Bag of waters is ruptured with a leak but is not broken. Evil woman sends Amber and Jamie home.
10 a.m.–Amber and Jamie go on long walk (a.k.a. waddle), hoping to kick things into motion. Steady leak continues but no real progress.
11:45 a.m.–Decide to grab a sandwich at Einstein Bagels. After eating, Amber blows her nose. Suddenly, the flood gates open. In very public booth #3 at Einstein’s. At lunchtime. Amber hisses at Jamie to discreetly grab her some napkins to cleanup. Jamie obliges and brings back two napkins, not understanding that bag of waters is in actuality, plural. Meaning many.
12:30 p.m.–After operation “Cleanup in Booth 3,”Amber casually strolls (a.k.a. waddles with soaked pants) to the Jeep. They rush to the hospital. Jamie drops her off with a grocery bag of personal items. He proceeds to park the car and bring in the luggage.
12:45 p.m.–As Amber stealthily walks up to the nurse’s station, she notes her appearance: soaked black sweats, unruly hair and a Wal-Mart bag for luggage: White Trash Incarnate. Jamie arrives with the rest of the luggage, announcing to the nurses: “Has anyone seen a strawberry-blonde with wet pants?” They chortle delightfully, later avowing his statement will go down as the funniest entrance in Birthing Center History. What a crackup.
1 p.m.-5 p.m.–Amber put on Pitocin (also known as “Pit”) to induce labor. Later discovers it is actually the “pits”. Light contractions begin but she can barely feel them and spends the afternoon watching Dr. Phil and Oprah with Jamie. Wonders what all those wimpy women have been whining about for centuries re: the “pains of childbirth.”
5:30 p.m.–Discovers what those “wimpy women” were talking about. The hard way. Now wonders why women would knowingly choose to do this multiple times.
6 p.m.–Excruciating Pain Con’t. Jamie compares Amber to Jekyl and Hyde. Cracking jokes and delightful…until the contractions hit. Jamie does a fabulous job as coach. Is instrumental in helping Amber Hyde maintain her composure.
7 p.m.–Amber’s best friend Mimi the Epidural Lady arrives. About 7 excruciating contractions later than requested. Amber practices the Miracle of Forgiveness. But not until after the drug kicks in.
7:30 p.m.–Amber is a new woman and plays the waiting game until full dilation. Jamie and Amber have a delightful time talking travel with the doc and nurse. Amber ponders the mysteries of life i.e. why anyone would chose not to get an epidural. Equates it to the lunacy of climbing Everest without oxygen.
10:15 p.m.–Starts pushing. Ouch.
11:05 p.m.–Everest attained. With oxygen. But the views are nonetheless spectacular! Beautiful Hadley arrives pretty and pink. Mom Amber now understanding why women do this multiple times. Dad Jamie still worried about that new car he owes his obedient daughter…
And thus began our tale of living “Happily Ever After!” (or would that be sleepless?…)
Haddie is an early aficionado of world religions.
In college, I did a study abroad in the Middle East with Jerusalem, Jordan and Egypt as my home. I subsequently collected many different volumes of various religions. Last week, Hadley became obsessed with my book on Jewish practices. She carried it around with her constantly and kept crying out, “Jew, Jew.” I thought for sure she was converting when asked by Jamie and she confirmed that she was indeed a Jew.
Then on Saturday, she started her little Jew dance and banged on the garage door. Confused, Jamie opened it and she led him to the outdoor fridge. She banged on the refrigerator door and Jamie opened it. She then pointed to her favorite apple juice box and said, “Jew, Jew!” I guess she’s not quite ready to convert. Her belch after downing it confirmed this.
Given the Christmas season, we have been teaching her about the baby Jesus (whom she refers to as “G.”) Every time she sees a picture, she lights up. Her Jewish book was replaced last night by a little picture of Jesus she dragged around with her. Before long, she started treating the picture as though it were human, giving him kisses and hugs. But then she thought Jesus would like to have some fun. She tenderly placed him in her favorite swivel chair and proceeded to spin him around 100 miles per hour.
Thus begs my question of the day: is it sacrilege to make Jesus dizzy?
‘Twas a great weekend of holiday preparations! We were the first to hit the tree stands on Friday and brought home a beautiful Christmas tree. Decorating it was another matter. We very quickly discovered that over-zealous Hadley would be a problem. The moment we brought out the ornaments and tried to hang them, she kept screaming, “Ball, ball” (she is unfortunately obsessed with anything spherical). She would then use all of them as projectiles. OK, not all of them; just the breakable ones.
This proved to be a good introduction to her new second home: time-out. We thought we knew what we were doing. After all, we’ve been devout followers of Supernanny. The pattern was simple. Devil child throws tantrum. Put devil child in “the naughty seat,” explaining their indiscretion. Let them stay there for one minute per age. Explain again what they did. Demand an apology. Everyone kisses, makes up, and lives happily ever after.
Ours started out the same: devil child throws tantrum. Put devil child in time-out, explaining their indiscretion. It went downhill from there. Somehow on Supernanny, the devil child did not stare blankly at the parents and throw an even more volatile tantrum. Supernanny also never dealt with the 18-month-old devil child who explains in no uncertain turns that she is not yet ready to suffer the consequences for her actions. And then threatens to turn her parents into child services.
The solution?
We simply moved all ornaments to the upper portion of the tree, making it look like a busty, top-heavy woman. Supernanny would have never approved. Haddie: 1 Parents: 0.
Don’t be surprised if you see us on next week’s episode of “Supernanny: Parents Gone Bad”….
Our Thanksgiving turned into a marvelous day of gluttony and gladness! We started the day with a trek up Turkey Trot trail. The hike was great; getting there was not and we almost missed our turn. The smarter option would have been to keep going and flip a U-turn. But hunky hubby would have none of that. Admitting you almost went the wrong way is equal unto the horror of asking directions. So at the very last second (as we had passed our exit), he did a sharp left turn, thereby dumping my entire water bottle onto my lap. Full of ice-cold water. Nothin’ like hiking with dripping wet “pee pants.”
As I leaked along the trail, Haddie hiked a good portion of it herself for the first time. Jamie then took over and hauled her up the mountain. We were only a half hour into the trek when he announced he was done.
“Done?” I asked. “How could we be done? We’re not even a quarter of the way. How am I going to justify those extra four pieces of pie I’m going to eat?”
“I just don’t want to wear myself out for the rest of the day.”
“Wear yourself out from doing what? Watching football lazed out on the couch and then stuffing your face with food the rest of the day?
“Exactly.”
Maine Biker Chick “tagged” me with this questionnaire. I’m not sure what that means but if it’s anything like kissing tag on the playground with Peter Jamison in first grade, sign me up (though my hunky hubby is the one who’s always “it” these days.)
What is your favorite current Thanksgiving tradition?
Bustin’ our big ol’ butterball butts up Turkey Trot trail. This rigorous hike is not far from our house and we’ll be dragging our little butterball, Haddie, up the mountain this morning.
What is your favorite Thanksgiving tradition of all time?
My family is very gourmand when it comes to food but our main tradition was transforming the rolls into charcoal. Every year, we would spend hours slaving over the turkey, veggies, salads, etc. and would stick the rolls in the oven just as we were sitting down. It never failed. Just as we would get to dessert, a layer of smoke would fill the room and one person would start sniffing, then everyone, “Oh nooooooo, we forgot the rolls!”
What is your favorite non-dessert item to eat at Thanksgiving?
Rolls (when not turned to charcoal) and Jamie’s jalapeno stuffing!
What is your favorite dessert?
DUHHH! Pumpkin’ pie!!!!!
Do you participate in any Thanksgiving charity functions?
Have you not seen this family? My duty is done….
What is the strangest thing you have ever eaten for Thanksgiving?
Does your employer compensate you in any way for the Thanksgiving holiday?
Hadley is the stingiest boss I know and does not give me the day off. In fact, she will soon be kickin’ my butt up a mountainside.
If you could change one thing about Thanksgiving, what would it be?
Make it earlier, like in October. Oh wait……maybe them thar Canucks are onto somethin’….
Make sure it’s not the saliva-infested glasses they use to ward off spit at the dental office (unless you’re into that kind of thing, of course). I, however, have no use for my immortalized spit. Jamie told me to “accidentally” bring home Novocaine next time around…..
I can’t really explain what got into me last weekend. I mean, I had been on a seven-year Sabbatical from bowling and I was perfectly content with my life. I knew I wasn’t missing much. Every time I have ever bowled, I have baffled folks with how I can bowl a series of strikes and then gutterball the rest of my game. My aversion to bowling is simple: I never participate in anything I can’t win. After all, my mantra in life is “If you can’t beat ’em, don’t play ’em….” the perfect motto for sore losers such as myself.
Later that day, Hurricane Hadley, Jamie and I arrived at Brunswick Lanes. Haddie loves balls but had absolutely no idea what to think of people chucking ’em down the alley. Whenever she saw pins get knocked down, she would make a resounding “Uh Ohhhhhh,” as if to say “Mommy’s gonna bust your butt for knocking those things over.”
Our rules were simple. The first ball was ours, the second we had to share with Hadley. I thought for sure the first game would be a wash with this concept. But sadly, having Haddie on my team improved my game because we discovered these cool metal ramps that you could line up with the pins. After a series of gutterballs, Haddie would sweep in, tap the ball and get me a spare. I think she’ll go pro next year.
Partway through the game, I bravely looked at the scoreboard. It wasn’t just the score that disturbed me but my dear husband had entered himself merely as “J.J.” while I was flashing everyone with my “Hot Body” moniker. Thanks, Honey.
Haddie lost interest the second game and left me floundering. I had previously squeaked out a strike and a couple of spares but all hope was lost now. Gutterball after gutterball followed, helping me to remember why I hate this game. “I think I finally have it,” Jamie announced. “Have what?” “The real solution to make you a better bowler.”
I couldn’t believe it. After years of critiques and even a couple of classes in high school and college, no one has ever figured out what I do wrong. My form is fine, I have plenty of strength and I line up just dandy with the alley. But something always happens in that last second of delivery.
I eagerly awaited his bowling profundity, knowing full well this moment could change my life forever. Maybe I’d ever get a ball for Christmas and would join a league after this; I’ve always liked those cool bowling shirts.
But then it came: “You just need to stop bowling with your left hand.”
I am officially back on Sabbatical for another seven years.
Was it the bronchial steroids? The calcium growth hormones? Hurricane Haddie’s parents were shocked when she grew a thicker goatee than her father.
Case in point: a guy (not known for his tact) approached Jamie at church one day and commented, “Hey Jamie, you’ve got a great start! That goatee is going to look great when it fills in.” Jamie had been growing it out for a year.
Why is it that Jamie’s latest policy on getting a puppy is the following:
“Not until everyone in this house is potty-trained.”
