Else what's a heaven for?

"Kids get sick," is what Nurse Craig and my husband always tell me, but March-May was a lot. I wasn't even back to work yet before I had to take both boys to urgent care, one for an earache and the other for stomach problems. Sherlock missed a day of school for that, then a few more in mid-April for a slight fever. At the end of April, I got the text at work about how he looks tired and has a 100F fever, would I please pick him up? ( We eventually went to the hospital ) When we got there, we were met by pediatric and surgical residents, who told us he had appendicitis, but the standard of care no longer assumed surgery. He'd be there for monitoring and then they'd re-evaluate. Meanwhile, my 4yo was still NPO. He begged me for something eat, having kept nothing down in the last 24 hours. At bedtime, the aide brought me those damp sponges for cleaning the mouth. My clever little monkey insisted he needed to be thorough and sucked on several.

Around midnight, long after I'd gone to bed, a young man came to the room to ask me to sign paperwork. I asked him what for. "For the surgery." What surgery? I don't know, I'm a surgical resident, please fill out the paperwork. We went back and forth and finally he offered to call the surgeon. "Absolutely not. If there is ANY possibility he is operating on my son tomorrow, you let him sleep."

We were up at six for "vitals" and waited hours for rounds. I do not miss all the time I spent sneaking out of the hospital room to get breakfast in the hall so that I didn't upset my ailing child. The surgeon trooped in with his entourage and halely explained my son's appendix was like a rotten banana, that was falling apart and had to be removed ASAP before it spewed infection. HE explained they'd been trying to get my son in yesterday, but he got to the hospital so late *facepalm* He was scheduled for a 1pm surgery but they'd try to get him in sooner.

They did not. Still NPO, but at least the end was in sight. (HAHAHAHAsob) A nice lady came in and asked what he liked, explaining that while he was in a surgical floor, not a kids floor, they would bring him toys. I knew the tv and ordering system from my own stay *sob* and we watched a lot of cartoons. Eventually his turn came.

The surgeon came out and told us they'd gotten the rotten banana, he should be good to go in a day or two. That's what I heard any way, but apparently he also said something about how sometimes there are complications. I'd say I wish I'd listened more closely, but they were going to explain it all again over the next few days anyway. Sherlock woke in the post-op room just long enough to eat an ice pop with a slight smile. They wheeled us into a corner room on a children's floor, with an enormous tv and wraparound windows with an expansive view of the horizon. it was larger than my first apartment and the shades were certainly fancier.

The constant stream of medical folks - pediatric and surgical - tracked his output. We measured his pee and my champion pooper suddenly couldn't make a movement. He wasn't very hungry. His abdomen was harder and more painful than it had been presurgery. The nurses and doctors intently asked if he'd passed any gas. Nada.

Friday afternoon, a surgical resident came in and explained he had an ileus, a common complication of appendix surgery. He explained that sometimes the GI fails to reboot after surgery and then it gets stuffed and then it can't reboot. Given that it was Friday afternoon, he suggested we put in a tube to drain things, but it would have to go through his nose and he'd once more be NPO. ( No fun for anyone ) He was so mad.

Jon arrived an hour later, after the commotion was all over, to relieve me. I'd been there 2 nights, it was time to see my other son. I took him to the school play and to synagogue and then some nice folks took him for a play date so I could go back to the hospital. I think this is when the HVAC unit in the boys' room leaked and flooded their room, which we only discovered when the neighbors banged on our door at 2am. I was so tired-stupid, I couldn't figure out how to dry the floor until they helped. Great neighbors.

( Gross details )

The doctors came back to explain that sometimes an abscess will form after surgery, so he'd need a CT scan. I texted Nurse Craig to ask how many CT scans is too much for a 4yo. He got it and they found our little overachiever had TWO abscesses - neither of which they could do anything about. They got permission to put him on the superantibiotics. He was still poorly. ( Distractions ) I went to the hospital on Mother's Day, where my mother had spent the night to give us a break. She proudly showed me how she'd coaxed him to eat bacon and he eagerly gave me a plant in a DIY pot. We celebrated Mother's Day with my brother. A day or two later, Sherlock came home.

He was home two weeks when he had another fever. ( How we ended up in the same hospital again )

Before going to our in person doctor, we'd called the surgical team, but they never got back to us. The pediatricians and surgical team were not happy to see us. They ran lots of tests, reluctantly put him on IV tylenol. They couldn't find anything wrong so they... sent us home. We took a car to where my family had gathered for Memorial Day, cussing medical mysteries.

Epilogue: We still don't know what was wrong with him the second time - he's had a few low fevers since then - and haven't had the energy to get the genetic testing to find out if maybe it's an Ashkenazi thing.

Part One

I came to the pain specialist's office one day and discovered that he was not available, so they'd booked me with a young woman. The pain specialist's office was particularly annoying because the physician's assistant ( sucked )

The doctor listened carefully and suggested it might be referred pain from my spine. Which sounded crazy - I had chest pain, how could that be my spine?? She showed me her spinal model and suggested an MRI, but that seemed like a lot. So she suggested a different prescription NSAID, we discussed how I could drink during the holidays on that med, and she sent me off for a few weeks. I went skiing with the family - which was an epic story on many levels - slept in a really uncomfortable chair at the motel in Vermont, and got to a point where I couldn't take it any more. The doctor's office wouldn't write a script for the MRI, so I had to wait for another appointment.

I had the MRI on Monday night, January 23. I'd been reading medical notes and test results (on 4 different portals!) for 5 months, so I was pretty excited to see the radiologist's report available Tuesday night. I was terrified they'd find nothing - I would be so lost, with literally no idea what to do or who to see. Then I read the report, Googled, read it again, and pushed it away, because nothing I read was really explaining what a such-and-such cm mass in my spine meant. There was also something about multiple herniated discs. Whatever this was, it was not nothing.

I tried to distract myself for the 3 days it would take to see the pain specialist again. When I finally got to her office on Friday, I was such a basket case that I asked her if I could borrow a pen and a pad, because I lacked the dexterity to type into my phone as usual. She seemed distracted, texting and trying to get someone on the phone, and I was annoyed by this. She gave me the pad with a sympathetic look and said she couldn't treat me any more. I had a mass on my spine, what she believed was a meningioma and this was way out of her specialty. She was trying to call a neurosurgeon at NYU that was well-regarded by her more senior colleagues to facilitate an appointment ASAP. She couldn't do anything to treat me any more, not even a trigger point injection.

Thank goodness the surgeon's office got me in the following Weds. I saw 2 different staff members who took histories - but refused to look at my carefully written page and a half of notes of my symptoms, tests, and treatments. Then the very pretty (and knowledgable) physician's assistant asked if I had any neurological symptoms, if I was peeing myself. I was horrified. She also did that stereotypical thump on my knee, pursed her lips, and said that my reaction was delayed. She also had no interest in my pages of notes.

The doctor told me bluntly that I have a schwannoma, that the textbook symptom is inability to tolerate lying flat. It was a mass that had been growing in my spine for many years. Its sausage-y shape meant it was 90% unlikely to be cancerous, but it was compressing my spine. In the waiting room I'd heard he was scheduling surgeries in 6-8 weeks, but he wanted me to get surgery the following week, that I could not wait because the longer I waited, the more complicated it would be to operate, increasing the risk, and within months I would be paralyzed. My careful page-and-a-half of notes was useless and the cough was a distraction - I had had pain because when one coughs, the cerebrospinal fluid gets jostled and the pain was when it was not in the right place. The good news was, 12 weeks after the surgery I could go play tennis if I wanted and he even told me I could travel a month after surgery, if I needed. He also asked me if I was peeing myself.

Jon and I went for drinks and snacks after the appointment. We took the subway home together - and I noticed that I was actually using the railing and had been for months. Oh shit...

To be continued…

I may have been done with the pandemic, but it wasn't done with me. HAHAHAsob.

After we came back from Jamaica, the baby started pre-preschool and we had multiple colds over the next 2 months. (Seriously, for the last 3 months of the year, we had only 1 week where both kids were in school for a whole week. It's been exhausting.) I was extremely stressed at work and frantically trying to finish all my holiday shopping and travel planning when I had a day with some chills and feeling rundown. I assumed it was my body signaling I needed a break, that I finally came down with the cold I'd been too busy to have 2 weeks earlier, the one that Jon was still coughing from. I was so sick on Sunday, I let Jon take both kids to REI to get a ski/skate helmet etc. Jon took the baby to school on Monday so I could stay in - the 7yo threw up in reaction to getting vaccinated on Saturday, my first day of symptoms - but couldn't get an at-home test so I could do the responsible thing.

Tuesday morning, I felt terrible but dragged myself to a testing site, which had what turned out to be an hour wait, during which I got pinged for a work call. I got swabbed, took the call as I walked home... only to discover I'd tested positive. Which set off a chain reaction and a lot of cursing. I walked 17k steps that day, fetching the 7yo from school 2 hours after he got there - his school nurse was in full PPE and he was so very confused to leave school early.

I had all the symptoms - chills and 100.4F fever, stabby headache (that confirmed we had it in March 2020), GI upset. My sense of smell had been weird for a few days, possibly preceding my chills and fever, with everything smelling or tasting slightly off or rancid. While sick, rich food was deeply upsetting to my stomach, so Jon's birthday dinner (and the leftovers I ate for a week) were hard on the body. Could I really feel my liver being taxed? Who knows. I recognize that all the above symptoms are still very mild. Really, the scariest part was terror that I might get sicker, that I might get shortness of breath and need to go to the hospital, who would take care of my baby?

No one in my family tested positive ever, not even the baby who slept in my room and shared my food half the time. I have during and after PCRs for both kids that told me that. I don't have a lot of faith in the test against Omicron, but I have no other data points to rely on.

I missed the ski vacation I spent so much time planning - over a year in the making! - and it was weeks without a break from taking care of the kids, but I also cherish the 1:1 time I got with the baby. He slept late, we ate breakfast, played hall-ball, had a hearty lunch, ate leftover birthday cake, argued about how many baths a day a person needs, and went to bed early. I watched lots of tv, including an awful movie called The Musketeer, 3 episodes of Domina, and part of Crouching Tiger. I'm grateful I had already scheduled time off from work, that I have an amazing and supportive husband, that I could order anything that I fancied (which turned out to be soup and fancy vegetables and at-home tests).

Covid has shown me the ups and downs of big government. I appreciate the at-home testing the city sent and the care package I may someday receive. The city's public testing sites were SO MUCH BETTER than the urgent care place, although LabQ is really the best. (PCR in <20 hours FTW!!!) OTOH, Test & Trace had our numbers all wrong and I'm unimpressed by the messaging etc. from the CDC.

Also, uh, get your booster.

Jon lost his sense of smell for a day, which is such an amazing diagnostic symptom, as it's not a symptom of cold, flu, or allergies, so bam! no more worrying about getting the virus. That was Monday, the same day I felt like vomiting + a horrible headache. We were so worn down, we tried to nap mid-day, which is a very big deal for me. Too bad we have a bored 5yo, who started banging on our door. *sighs*

We were prepared to call our isolation a quarantine and not really do much different, but then Jon's ex demanded we bother his doctor, who listened to Jon's symptoms and said, "Yep, sounds like you probably have mild COVID-19." Duh.

I mentally prepared to stop work, but I woke feeling better yesterday. Today, not so much, so we'll see how it goes.

Events have overtaken my journaling, as anyone who notes the date on this post will see. Still, for some reason, it seemed important to note what the end of my pregnancy was like.

I heard a colleague who is about a month behind me with her pregnancy - we usually have 5 people about to go out on parental leave at any given time in my department in my office, no joke - comment that she was going to work from home the last two weeks before her due date. Which seemed to be taking advantage, but then a mom at my son's school commented her (all male) bosses all wanted her to do the same, because they didn't want her water to break at work. (It usually breaks at night.) That pings true. My boss said every week, "I would never say anything to the woman who is pregnant and missing an ACL about working from home, even though people comment on these things," which was deeply confusing, y'know?

Up until week 37, it seemed to be taking advantage and then I had one day where it took all my energy to get to the office, given the 8 minute walk from the subway. When it happened a second time, I knew it wasn't "a bad day", but how things would be until I gave birth, so I started ferrying my stuff home.

My boss asked me to come in for a meeting on Weds, after my most senior minion blocked me for an extra long meeting that day, which seemed a little suspicious. He told me it was a meeting with our new vendor, whose installation is behind (and important to my group). I thought he might come in for that meeting - he lives in DC - but didn't. Then we had our 1:1 and toward the end, he said, "Oh gosh, they are all there - run to the meeting and tell them I'll join in a few." Then I got to the meeting room - and there was some meeting going on and I didn't parse who was in the room, so I stepped away to check my laptop for the meeting location. Surprise! it was a baby shower, even though I no longer have a minion or boss in my office. And now my boss (and all my colleagues) know how badly I react when deeply surprised. oops.

I was impressed that my colleagues from all over the country dialed in to a web-conference to watch me eat cake and guess the jellybeans. My boss was so impressed that my former minion (who still worked at the company) and my outgoing minion who didn't work in the building, coordinated the whole thing. The former assistant in my group gave me an embarrassingly large gift card. It was very sweet and a very nice last day in the office.

Friday, my minion who was starting the coming Monday asked if I had time to chat. "Of course," I said, because I always make time for my minions. I was worried she was reneging on her job acceptance - some stupid policies meant she was taking a short term paycut - but it turned out she wanted to know what to do if I "went out" on Monday. So I reassured her and walked through my plan for her. She has two kids and she's really sharp... she's the one who called it...

Back in May, I decided to start getting my life in order: every month, I would focus on building one good habit. In June, it was bedtime: my goal was to brush my teeth by 9:30pm every night, because once my teeth are brushed, I'm on my way to bed. It's been honored more in the breach, but just setting a goal has gotten me to bed more regularly. Three months later - and after the school year forced me to get up at 6:15 2-3 times a week - it seems to have gotten me into a very regular sleep cycle, as long as I read the right stuff at bedtime.

At the end of June, I started working on diet, which was to be July's goal. I was disgusted by my not-very-successful attempt to climb in mid-June; the baby had been out as long as he'd been in and I was still 20 lbs overweight. Moreover, my weight was starting to creep up, which was absurd. I read Jorge Cruise's The 100 and Mark Sisson's Primal Blueprint Cookbook for ideas on how to cut carbs and eat more in line with how I know my body prefers. ( Read more... ) I lost 5 lbs in the first week - based on prior experiments with low carb, I'm taking that to mean I carry 5 lbs of water when I'm not eating lower carb - and hit 10 lbs down within 2 months, although I hovered in that area all through September thanks to too much time with my parents (who don't support my diet and also have delicious mushu shrimp). The Sisson book was rather less helpful: I believe grassfed beef is better than cornfed, but I can't be arsed to make my own mayo or make the substitutions in the book. oh well.

August was getting my workouts back on track. I'd been working out at home for months at that point and I think those workouts were pretty good: swings, goblet squats, and rows with a 25lb kettlebell, lots of Romanian deadlifts, yoga workshops when I could get Jon to watch the baby. They would have been a lot better though if I'd read Dan John on fat loss or even Fat Loss Happens on Monday, his "collaboration" with Josh Hillis. ( Read more... )

Tim Ferriss' 4 Hour Body is a more scientific, less hand-holding book that covers a lot of the same material as Cruise and Hillis. He's got a lot of good stuff in there, but it's a hodgepodge of stuff he tried that worked when he did it instead of a plan. He quotes everyone from NFL combine consultants to Nina Hartley. My favorite statistician hates that book bc n=1, but I'm much more likely to re-read his book than Hillis'.

I ended up rejoining NYSC, bc the one in my neighborhood is $20/month, with a $10/month charge for unlimited babysitting (and $110 in sunk costs). The babysitting alone makes it worthwhile and makes me wish I'd signed up for it 6 months ago, because there were a lot of days when I would've paid $10 to hand my child to someone and take a shower with unlimited hot water, even if I had to bring my own towel.

I ended up following the Starting Strength program, ( which worked )

September was just a mess, between Jon being gone on a father-son vaca for the first week (so I was in Ct), the start of a new school for Lucky, and the high holidays, so I didn't even try for a habit. I bought 2 more Dan John books, Easy Strength and Can You Go? and followed a plan from the first book of his I read. Unfortunately, I'm also injured: my right hip is just unhappy, with inflammation ranging from my groin to the outside to under the butt cheek, depending on the day. It sucks. I stopped lifting or running, then I stopped yoga, and now I just stopped doing anything but taking the baby places (although I briefly thought babywearing might be the problem), although this morning I did some PT-ish exercises.

I had a conversation with Bbro where he talked about the community aspect of his Crossfit and triathlon practices and I confess I wish I had community for my workouts. I mean, I'd like a coach too, but I disbelieve I could find a local coach I trusted.

Just before this injury became a showstopper, I signed up for ClassPass *facepalm* AISOFB, I love love love the spinning-but-with-treadmills class I took (right as the injury was manifesting) and I'm looking forward to taking parkour, bouldering lessons, aerial hoop, pole, and maybe pilates when I'm better. I'm calling it my own personal CrossFit, because I'm basically demanding that my body constantly be up for any modality of exercise. Did I mention that before the injury, I'd worked up to a 3mi run again and was considering wind sprints on one of the piers?

October's habit was supposed to be job-hunting, but a) that's not going very well at all and b) that's a whole nuther post.

Edit: Apparently I worked on this post for a month, which is good because it needed a proofread and because the first version was a lot more angsty and I've worked through some of the problems I had a month ago, although I wasn't injured then so. The original included a bit about how getting 3 things done used to be my floor for a reasonably productive day; now it's an aspiration and an LJ entry is A Thing.

Apparently I only write New Year's resolution posts every other year now. Oops.

2014 was obviously my biggest year evuh: I got married and had a baby. Hard to top those.

Unfortunately, there were also a lot of very tough things that happened in 2014. I went from living in an 850 sq ft apartment off of Central Park to a 750 sq ft apartment over the Brooklyn Queens Expressway. I had the only job I've ever liked for the work itself, rather than the prestige, but (1) I left traumatically and (2) I unintentionally burned two bridges along the way. ugh. I spent the summer with the worst depression I've ever had and the fall with the worst persistent pain I've ever had. I barely exercised all year as a result.

Relationships were also very mixed. Julian and I broke up for the last time, for a number of reasons. I'm glad it was amicable, unlike our last 2 (or was it 3?) breakups, and that we can still chat and have lunch. 'belle and I started dating, officially. I'm so grateful she came into my life when she did, bc in the last months of my pregnancy, I needed the NRE, someone slightly mysterious who'd tell me I was still sexy. I also really needed someone who supported this project of a lifetime in the exact right sort of way, sharing her medical knowledge, not judging, and most of all, being excited, even when I wasn't. I travelled less last year than I had in nearly a decade, but I'm so glad I went to Tennessee and I'm so grateful to my husband for not only making it possible, but for encouraging me to make it wonderful.

I read more books in 2014 than I have since 2008, ( and better ones too ) I can't decide if I read too many books I enjoyed or if I didn't love any of them, but my favorites were Ben Aaronovitch's "Rivers of London" series, J. K. Rowling's The Silkworm, Julian Barnes' The Sense of an Ending, and Derek Miller's Norwegian by Night. I plan to buy Beth Ann Fennelly's Great With Child for every pregnant woman I know, and I'm glad Nick Hornby recommended it in one of his columns. (His Ten Years in the Tub compilation of articles was the best bedtime reading I've ever had.) I highly recommend Sherman Alexie's The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, which is what YA should be.

I've made so much progress on my 2013 resolutions - spending more time thinking about whether I should do something, instead of how, and getting better at recognizing when I'm spending too much energy worrying about something and decide not to worry - that I forgot they were resolution-worthy. Which is not to say I've succeeded, but that I've gotten so used to the battle, I point it out to others.

My 2015 resolution is to spend more time with people face-to-face. Julian was a major part of my socializing, other than my husband, for a while, which I angsted about a few months ago. More importantly, I feel like my interpersonal skills have atrophied. Secondarily, I'd also like to eat less processed foods, based on an article I saw on Facebook, but that's a distant second.

I'd been feeling pretty low energy for the past two weeks and actually overslept 3 hours on Thurs morning, so when I woke up a little damp and frantically running for the bathroom at 6:45am on Fri morning, I assumed that I'd overslept past my bladder's urges. ( Nope ) The on-call doctor told me to go to the hospital of course, ( where they told me my water broke and I'd be there for weeks, trying to keep the baby in )

The triage area sounded very busy from behind our curtain, but Jon had told me childbirth is lots of time by ourselves, so I figured it was normal to wait a lot, even in not-childbirth. Eventually they took us to the Maternal-Fetal Evaluation unit, where the same ultrasound tech who originally told me about my fibroids measured the amniotic fluid remaining. I had 0.8 units, whereas 0.5 units was the minimum, and everything else looked good, so there was no reason why I couldn't stay like that. She used the analogy of a house: the building was structurally fine, but the door was broken, so they had to deal with that. Waiting outside the MFE, we started chatting with a woman who'd been there for 2 weeks, since her 25th week of pregnancy, and hoped to stay there quite a bit longer. We already had a lot to be grateful for.

They wheeled me back to the triage area, where "just a few minutes while we get your room ready" turned into over an hour, possibly two. ( The anesthesiologist told me I had a high pain tolerance, whereas the delivery nurse wondered what I do for a living, to be that strong )

It was early evening, maybe 6pm, when a doctor asked to check my vagina -- and discovered I was fully dilated. Suddenly we were in labor mode. After a day of crossing my legs and planning for a month in a strange bed, now that I could no longer sit up without pain, now I was supposed to suddenly use all the things I'd learned in 5 months of doula-flavored yoga to bring on the baby. Did I mention that the first time Jon and my sorority sister had offered to lift me higher so I wasn't slumped in my bed, I refused because I was scared of it hurting, let alone trying to sit up myself?

So of course, when they told me the obstetrician had been called and would come in 30 minutes, and would I like an anesthesiologist, the answer was YES YES YES. I would've scaled a 10 foot wall over broken glass to get pain relief. Unfortunately, what I actually had to do was sit still. I remember having to ask them to hold off for a moment, while another pain spasm seized me. I tried to ask for a walking epidural and one of the nurses told me they don't exist. I flinched once while the anesthesiologist was sticking the needle in, but held very still after his exclamation.

When the obstetrician arrived, I said something about when the baby arrives in a few hours and he said, "No, the baby will be here in an hour." Nurse Isbethema held my left leg, Jon held my right, and the doctor explained how I was to push. Alas, not feeling pain meant not feeling anything down there and they repeatedly had to tell me I was flexing my legs, not pushing down there. (Aerial acrobatics and pilates turned out to be great training for this part.) The doctor had his finger where he wanted me to push, and told me to push like I had the most epic poop ever. I even at one point asked the doctor to tap his finger, but still couldn't get it. I asked if they could see the head and Jon commented they could, whenever I pushed, which was great motivation. Eventually the doctor used a vacuum and then there was a loud baby screaming and the nurses who'd been in a catcher's position - not an exaggeration - were hustling and bundling and murmuring. My part was done. With nothing else to do, I looked at the placenta, which was blue, and the doctor took a moment to show it to Jon and I. The nurses handled me a bundle of blankets, the center of which was a large red mouth and a cute nose. Jon took a picture and then we were alone.

For those who insist on numbers, my son was 1.93kg, with a length of 41cm and a head circumference of 31cm, and an Apgar score of 9, when he was born.

I wish I knew why I feel so much better today than I did 2 weeks ago: is it crossing into the third trimester, less yoga, the PT exercises, or something else? Obviously, it would be quite helpful to know if anything I did made it better (or worse). *sighs*

And it's quite a big difference: 2 weeks ago I was desperately trying to make it 2.5 weeks without a massage, which is a silver bullet against the lower back pain with bonus numbness, but makes me feel horribly indulgent. Today, I'm wondering if I can make it to November (probably not). I woke up this morning with numbness and tingling, but no charley horses. My tricksy husband bought me 2 massages at my prenatal place, as a Columbus Day present, and pointed out they are paid for, so I =have= to go for them, to do anything else would be a waste. He is so tricksy.

I'm still pregnant though: there's still lower back discomfort and sometimes I have to ask my husband to put his fist between my thighs (so I can pop my sacro-illiac joint back into place). My endurance is down, the strength in my legs rather than my "wind". Last week I had days when I walked 2-2.6 mi (it's at least 0.7mi each way to get to the subway), but I was kaput the next day. I really have to budget my energy: yesterday I did half my 5# dumbbell workout and had to cut some of my errands in order to make it to the subway, although after dinner, I had another spurt of energy and walked from Restaurant Row to Grand Central. I've concluded I shouldn't work out on days when I =must= leave the apt.

I don't like acid reflux or piles and I never could've imagined the things my skin is doing. I miss non-sobriety (although I am enjoying the excuse not to drink when I don't want to). I occasionally lie on my stomach (with a knee out as a tripod) for a minute or two because I miss it so.

I know that the extra weight (20-24 lbs so far) makes my physical condition worse and the refined carbs are destroying my son's (or possibly his child's) insulin sensitivity, but I do like the chocolate or ice cream every day. I can't seem to eat as much meat any more. I still eat any steamed vegetables Jon leaves in the house and should encourage him to make more. (Food tastes better when he makes it.) My new kick is Tasty Bite bags o' food, because they have a lot of fiber and iron and can be heated in 1 min, if I have cooked rice in the house.

I experimented with cutting back my caffeine - for the first two trimesters, I was drinking 2 5oz cups + an afternoon caffeine booster of tea or soda - and found I could sleep until morning. I briefly cut back to just green tea in the morning, but the past few days have been stressful. Maybe I can go to bed earlier tonight and try again tomorrow.

I felt like we got to Maine and were basically winging our vacation, even though I spent about a day planning the trip (half a day booking lodgings and another half day researching the national parks) and I've been to the same area with my family before. I even failed to acquire a guide book of any sort and my aunts who take their families to Acadia National Park weren't very helpful. Then after walking/hiking <6mi in one day, I was crippled, so it's not like my plans would have availed much anyhow. *sighs* In the end though, I had some really great moments with the child and long after I've given up on making a photobook of the trip, that'll be what matters.

We started the trip with a stop in Connecticut, to see my brand new nephew. To save time, we had dinner at the hospital - my mother occasionally goes to the hospital solely for the food - but the pickings were meager on a Friday night. I slept for a while, then kept my husband company for the last few hours of the 9 hour drive, talking his ear off about everything on my mind. I've been doing that a lot lately.

The next morning, I took the child for breakfast and got some quality time with him. We hadn't seen much of him in the week since camp and I am inutterably charmed that he worried about waking his father. Eventually he woke on his own, devoured leftover omelette, and drove us to Bar Harbor, stopping on the way for our first lobster roll of the trip. By the time we checked in and unpacked, we had time to walk around town. The child came back from camp hungry all the time, so we took him for the early bird special at the 22nd best restaurant in town, the West Street Café, where everyone had lobsters. I believe the child has had lobster before, but it was pretty funny watching his attempts to get the meat out, like when he declared the tail was too hard to eat from.

Sunday, we had breakfast at Testa's, which was a regrettable throwback to the trip's earlier mediocre food. On the plus side, it was near the north end of town and we happened to be there near low tide, so over the child's worrywart protests, we walked to the top of Bar Island, stopping on the way back to admire the mist behind the cruise ships and for another rock skipping lesson. We drove into the park and stopped at the visitor's center, where Lucky reluctantly received a Junior Ranger guide. He liked the national parks passport book better and got his first stamp. Then we drove to Gorham "Mountain" for a moderate 1.8mi hike to the top. Since we were already on the west side of the park, we drove to Thurston's Lobster's Pound. As soon as we got there, I remembered eating there about a decade ago with my folks: it was one of the best meals of the trip. The blueberry cake that came with our meals was delicious, but I'm so glad I got the strawberry rhubarb pie as well, bc the vanilla cream was incredible.

The next morning Jon went climbing with a guide, so Lucky and I went to the nature center and the beach. He's spent every summer of his life going to the Jersey shore, so he loved looking for crabs among the lowish-tide rocks, despite the reek from a few dead ones. He's also scared of heights though, so I was very surprised to see him scrambling on them. Originally we'd talked about walking several miles to the next location, but waited for the bus instead. I wanted more from our day, but as I write this, I realize he really, really needed to run around and climb things. I... can relate to that.

Between our b&b and the climbing shop was a deli where Lucky got a lump lobster roll and I got a burger. The boys napped and I rested. The child once more demanded food, so we took him Poor Boy's Gourmet, which should've been walking distance from our room. It was more gourmet Maine food: I got a (virgin) blueberry martini, Jon had lobster fra diavolo, and the child had yet another boiled lobster. Yum. Unfortunately, I couldn't make the walk back, so Jon brought the car over.

Tuesday morning, we went kayaking with National Park Sea Kayak Tours. We saw little wildlife and our guide was not very good at narrating, or even keeping the boats together, but we enjoyed it. We showered and went to Jordan Pond for an elegant lunner. I could've stayed all afternoon, just looking at the Bubbles, eating popovers, and enjoying the sunshine.

Wednesday morning, we finally met up with my aunt and uncle and their kids for brunch at Two Cats, which was delicious if carborrific, and drove to Boston. A good friend recommended a Thai place not far from our hotel and met us there and we caught up.

I had grand plans for finally doing all the touristy things I'd never done in Boston as an undergrad, but being unable to walk from Faneuil Hall to the subway without tears put the kibosh on that. We took a duck tour, which I'd always wanted to do, but was disappointing. The duck was cool and all, but I really wanted a little more history and background on the city as we drove around. Based on our conversation at the visitor's center, I think I will try to get a tour - possibly with a ranger - next time we try the Freedom Trail. We had dinner at Durgin Park, which seemed like the thing to do, and made it home.

Friday I went for a massage at Massage Therapy Works. I walked out and immediately had a twinge in my back and thought, "Oh well, it was worth a shot." Then I spent 5 hours walking around the Museum of Science with just a few sitting breaks and woke the next morning feeling bouncy, so I guess it did work.

I am so impressed with the Museum of Science: it's the best time I've had at a science museum since I went to the Ontario Science Center as a kid. (That museum was so amazing, my family planned multiple week-long road trips to Toronto where we did nothing but hang out at the museum.) Every time I come to Boston, they have interesting special exhibits: this time it was everyday math (which involved snowboarding and space simulations) and "Grossology". I LOVED the updated Hall of Life so much, my menfolk had to drag me out. (Data!) Funniest moment was when one of the explainers came by as we were discussing the prenatal exhibit and offered her help. I still maintain the 4 month baby and the 6 month baby were the wrong size.

Saturday morning we had a delightful breakfast with the Cozikins, who picked the perfect place for us to chat for 3 hours while the children played. As we were going back to our car, Lucky asked, "When are we hanging out with them again?" I couldn't agree more.