Obama Doesn't Get It

Not too long ago, I signed a petition to ask for the 1954-added phrase "under God" to be removed from the pledge.

At the link, you can read the official White House response. They just don't get it. Yes, a person should be free to pray or sermonize or proselytize in the public square. People do it all the time. Yes, a student should be free to pray or sermonize or proselytize at school. Students do it all the time. Harassment or disruption of class is, and should be, prohibited, of course.

However, there are two problems with the pledge itself.

1) Mindless chanting of a "patriotic" statement of flag-worship that students are taught to recite without learning what it means is ridiculous. But, they can't teach the students what it means without violating the 1st amendment. Leaving the "under God" part in establishes religion, specifically the monotheism practiced by the majority in the US. There's no getting around that. Students who are Buddhist, students who are Hindu, students who are pagan, and students who worship no gods at all would have to be taught that their religion, or lack thereof, is wrong and that the monotheism promoted in the pledge is right.

2) Until schools stop requiring the mindless chanting of the pledge, children who either don't want to mindlessly chant ANY pledge or who don't want to mindlessly chant something that specifically goes against their religious beliefs or lack thereof are singled out for ridicule and harassment unless they ignore their discomfort, compromise their integrity, and just chant along. Great lesson for the kiddies. Shut up about it or be singled out. Kids LOVE that!

The White House response inserts this from Obama himself:

Not every mention of God in public is a breach to the wall of separation - context matters.

Well, yes. True that. But in the context of a public school classroom with students of many different backgrounds and worldviews, forced statements of flag-worship and monotheism-belief to a captive audience certainly seems to breach the wall of separation.

The White House spokesman writes, in regard to how "under God" in the pledge reflects our religious heritage:

We're proud of that heritage, and the strength it brings to our great country.

Fine, he can recite the pledge anywhere he wants when he doesn't have a captive audience of impressionable children with disparate backgrounds and belief systems.

As far as heritage goes, the pledge did not include any gods until fear of Communism made some influential Christians insist on adding it. So that argument is invalid and inaccurate. If people are so concerned with "heritage," we would be mindlessly chanting the original pledge from 1892:

I pledge allegiance to my Flag and the Republic for which it stands, one nation indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

And we would be doing with our arms outstretched in the "Bellamy salute," which is identical to the Nazi salute. Great. Let's go back to that.

Better yet, let's just do away with the pledge in schools and leave it up to individuals and private groups to chant it if they want.
(PHOTO FROM WIKIPEDIA - Pledge of Allegiance)

Mrs. Obama Is Going To Force Our Kids To Eat Healthy!

This is the Sausage Cheesecake you really want to send in your kid's lunchbox. But you can't, friends, because Michelle Obama won't let you! True? Or part of the blame-any-Obama-for-anything-even-if-it's-made-up disease that's sweeping the nation?

My friend and neighbor asked me Monday before last, “So, when is Michelle Obama’s term up so that I will be allowed to send whatever I want in my kids’ lunches and take cookies to their classrooms?”

I replied, “WTF are you talking about?”

She responded with a rant about how the new School Lunch Law changes require that she only send healthy non-obesity-causing foods to school in her daughter’s lunchbox when she chooses not to eat the cafeteria food, and that this is a ridiculous personal liberty infringement designed by the Obamas to take away parents’ rights in regard to what their kids can eat.

Well, I thought, if that is true, then she is correct. It would be horrible if the gubmint was telling families what foods to send from home for their children to eat at school. At the same time, I thought, that’s crazy, and I seriously doubt that the law says any such thing.

I informed my friend that I found that hard to believe and that maybe we should actually look up the new law and read it to see if she is right. I’m relatively sure she did not do so, since we’ve not had any follow-up discussion. Also, she is highly conservative and no fan of President Obama or any Democrat. Maybe she is just using this misinformation to give her an “I hate Obama” fix. But I actually DID read the damned thing here. I also read the 1966 Child Nutrition Act here, and the 2004 Richard B Russell National School Lunch Act here. I had to read these as well, at least the sections regarding nutrition at school and school wellness program policies, because the new publication does not include the whole of the two acts that it amends.

First, I would like to note that the majority of each act consists of extremely boring discussion of funding, finding qualified recipients for free lunches/breakfasts, reporting by schools, and reimbursement of schools by the gubmint. (yawn) I did it for YOU, people! I admit I skimmed those sections and only attacked the nutrition and wellness program information.

2004 language:

SEC. 9. 9–1 42 U.S.C. 1758 (a) 9–2 (1)(A) 9–3 Lunches served by schools participating in the school lunch program under this Act shall meet minimum nutritional requirements prescribed by the Secretary on the basis of tested nutritional research…

This language is not changed in the 2010 amendment. The 2004 version continues:

(a) IN GENERAL - Not later than the first day of the school year beginning after June 30, 2006,each local education agency participating in a program authorized by the Richard B. Russell National School Lunch Act (42 U.S.C.1751 et seq.) or the Child Nutrition Act of 1966 (42 U.S.C. 1771 et seq.) shall establish a local school wellness policy for schools under the local educational agency that, at a minimum—
1) Includes goals for nutrition education, physical activity and other school- based activities that are designed to promote student wellness in a manner that the local educational agency determines is appropriate;
2) Includes nutrition guidelines selected by the local educational agency for all foods available on each school campus under the local educational agency during the school day with the objectives of promoting student health and reducing childhood obesity;

Check it out! Obesity is already in there! Promoting student health is already in there! Goals for nutrition education and physical activity are already in there! A prescription for minimum nutritional requirements from the Secretary is already in there!

The change in the 2010 version is here (bolded):

SEC. 204. LOCAL SCHOOL WELLNESS POLICY IMPLEMENTATION.
(a) IN GENERAL.—The Richard B. Russell National School Lunch Act is amended by inserting after section 9 (42 U.S.C. 1758) the following:
‘‘SEC. 9A. LOCAL SCHOOL WELLNESS POLICY.
‘‘(a) IN GENERAL.—Each local educational agency participating in a program authorized by this Act or the Child Nutrition Act of 1966 (42 U.S.C. 1771 et seq.) shall establish a local school wellness policy for all schools under the jurisdiction of the local educational agency.
‘‘(b) GUIDELINES.—The Secretary shall promulgate regulations that provide the framework and guidelines for local educational agencies to establish local school wellness policies, including, at a minimum,—
‘‘(1) goals for nutrition promotion and education, physical
activity, and other school-based activities that promote student
wellness;
‘‘(2) for all foods available on each school campus under the jurisdiction of the local educational agency during the school day, nutrition guidelines that—
‘‘(A) are consistent with sections 9 and 17 of this Act, and sections 4 and 10 of the Child Nutrition Act of 1966 (42 U.S.C. 1773, 1779); and
‘‘(B) promote student health and reduce childhood obesity;

So, I guess I can see where fear-mongers and anti-Obama individuals could interpret that to mean that OMG THE SECTIONS LISTED ARE FULL OF NUTRITION PROPAGANDA MADE UP BY MRS. OBAMA! ALL FOOD ON CAMPUS HAS TO FIT MRS. OBAMA’S IDEA OF HEALTHY FOOD, INCLUDING MY KID’S LUNCHBOX! However, without actually reading the sections listed above, we just can’t know that for sure, can we? Also, why Mrs. Obama? I guess this is her pet project, like Hillary Clinton’s was Health Care Reform, way back when, but the amendments have to come from the FDA and SSA and Secretary of Education and Secretary of Agriculture not to mention our CONGRESS, full of our elected officials. Not from the president’s wife, regardless of how smart she is or how important she thinks this is. She is acting as a spokesperson for improving our students’ nutritional health; she is not authorized to make law.

At any rate, I read the sections listed. I looked for any indication that Mrs. Obama was involved, but more importantly, I looked for anything to indicate that the new law applied to anything other than cafeteria food. Here’s a breakdown:

Section 9 of the School Lunch Act (SLA) is about a million pages long. Perhaps I exaggerate a bit, but believe me, it took a long while to slog through it. Section 8 is about one page, but we can’t be required to read THAT! Anyway, Section 9 says a bunch of stuff, but it covers these things: establishes nutritional requirements, including prohibiting using the act to avoid providing substitutes for those with special dietary needs, both medical or otherwise; establishes that the gubmint will train personnel when necessary; requires that milk be offered; requires that high school students not be forced to accept every food item offered, though they still have to pay full price if they choose to pass on the S.O.S. and only eat the canned pears that day; establishes eligibility requirements and methods to identify free or reduced price lunch recipients (OMG – 500 pages or so! Really! This is the majority of Section 9!); forbids segregation or public identification of free lunch recipients (I think this is nice!); requires certain nutritional guidelines, provided by the gubmint, to be met in foods SERVED FOR LUNCH OR BREAKFAST, but also forbids requiring schools to have meal nutrition analyzed (whut?); requires twice a year food safety inspections; encourages, but does not require purchases of local food items, and will help defray storage/facility costs for those who do.

That’s all. And it was enough dry reading for me! But in the public interest, I pressed on!

Section 17 is similar to Section 9, but addresses child-care (and adult-care, but that’s beyond the scope of my friend’s complaint). Our school offers before and after-school care for a fee, so this would apply here. This section addresses all the things listed in Section 9, just addressed towards child-care facilities and the specific issues of those facilities rather than schools; provides for commodity donations from the USDA to these facilities.

Section 4 of the Child Nutrition Act (CNA) establishes a school breakfast program under the same terms and regulations of the SLA.

Section 10 covers regulations: establishing nutritional standards as specified in the SLA; establishing that these standards apply to any food SOLD at school (note that this excludes items brought from home, including that cake you want to take into the classroom for your child’s birthday, as well as specifically excluding school sponsored fundraisers).

Now, to go back up to the changes, and the FEAR, the 2004 amendments stated that local school authorities would be required to establish a wellness policy that applies to all food available at school during the school day. The 2010 amendments requires that “all foods available on each school campus… during the school day...
are consistent with sections 9 and 17 of this Act, and sections 4 and 10 of the Child Nutrition Act of 1966 (42 U.S.C. 1773, 1779); and (B) promote student health and reduce childhood obesity."

That’s the change. In 2004, a school’s wellness policy had to apply to all food available on campus, and in 2010, all foods available on campus have to comply with those four sections of the two laws. But, as I’ve stated above, sections 9 and 17 of the SLA as well as sections 4 and 10 of the CNA say ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about food brought from home, and in fact, specifically address ONLY foods available for sale (or for free if the student qualifies) on campus, at the cafeteria or snack bar. As I wrote above, even fundraisers are exempt. So, technically, there’s nothing new here. Nutrition guidelines have changed, that is true. But those nutrition guidelines are ONLY APPLICABLE TO FOOD SOLD ON CAMPUS DURING THE SCHOOL DAY. Any other forced compliance would be against sections 9 and 17 of the SLA and sections 4 and 10 of the CNA.

THE BOTTOM LINE
So my friend can send those chocolate chip cookies to little Susie’s classroom (if the specific school or teacher doesn’t have a classroom policy against it, and my friend can certainly fight that if she chooses – it’s not coming from the federal government) where each child can have one except for little Bobby, who will sneak up and eat seven or eight when nobody’s looking. She can send those tubs of lard, bags of sugar, and caffeinated soft drinks in little Susie’s lunchbox if she chooses! So happiness all around, I hope!

Oh, yeah, Mrs. Obama's name is nowhere in there.

It took me a week to have time to really read all this stuff. Hope anyone who reads this finds it useful. Please forgive any formatting or grammar or spelling errors. I have read this over so many times I can’t even see them anymore.

I will add that I have no idea where my friend came up with her insane idea, but I suspect it’s being discussed at her fundamentalist church, at her school (Liberty University on-line), on her conservative news source networks, and among her conservative friends. In other words, I’m sure she’s not alone. If you read this, do your part by educating your friends and acquaintances in regard to this issue! The gubmint isn’t forcing you to feed your child healthy foods! But if your child buys or receives lunch at school, it will be healthy. Too bad, huh?

A Busy Day for The Princess

Here is The Princess's to-do list for Sunday:

1. Clos, brafist, theeth and hair
2. daddy to bus.
3. play, Lunsh
4. compeupuptr
5. james, bath, bed

What a busy day!

The Starving Child's First Album

My eldest son is quite creative and loves to write and illustrate stories. He also loves music. Recently, he made a list of songs to write for his first album, titled Have A Great Time. The titles are as follows:

1) Great Time
2) I Love That Smell (my personal favorite, written while I was cooking his favorite supper)
3) Ahhh...
4) Mmm....

Now, for a song title, you just can't beat I Love That Smell. It is unfortunate that he has gotten no further than titles, except for these exerpts from Great Time and I Love That Smell:

1) I'm having a great time now, right now...
2) I love that smell, ohhh....yep.

I've been encouraging him to finish the songs, and will post lyrics here if I ever get them.

The Birth of the Sprouts Part Four

Following the travails of Part Three, on October 3rd, the same guys who flew me to Hospital D back on July 27th came and flew the kids back Hospital A. Nigel was there waiting for them, and my mom and I cleaned up our room at Ronald McDonald House (with the help of the wonderful people there) and left early the next morning. We arrived at the hospital with two ice chests full of frozen breast milk, which drove everyone crazy, since they only had the small fridges. I ended up taking one chest home with me. We also had a carload of supplies the nurses smuggled to our car – bottles, diapers, wipes, alcohol wipes, formula, all kinds of things that came in very handy and would have cost an arm and a leg. We were there so long, that they all felt like we are family. I still keep in touch with many of them.

Shortly thereafter, The Princess came home. We had actually had trouble keeping her IN Hospital D. She was doing so well that I had to work hard to convince them of the wisdom of sending them to Hospital A together. Hospital A made us to a "sleeping-in" with her, which is just putting Nigel and I and The Princess in a room to be sure we aren't going to kill her or something. Her sleeping-in was uneventful.

A few days before Halloween, The Starving Child came home, over my objections. He didn’t seem right to me. His sleeping-in was horrible, none of us slept and he cried and had reflux all night long. But they insisted he was ready to go. Two days later, the home-health nurse checked his O2 sat and it was 88. So here we went, back to the hospital. Turned out he had bacterial pneumonia. I wrote a very scathing letter to the hospital administrator naming names. He stayed on the pediatric ward there for two days and nights until I realized that he would get better care at home with three adults and two babies, instead of with 2 nurses and 20 kids. They never brought his meds on time, and I always ended up giving him the stuff I brought from home. If I hadn’t been there the entire time, I don’t know if they would have even fed him. Imagine the fun if Nigel hadn’t had time off and if my mom weren’t there to help! So I signed the DAMA (discharged against medical advice form) and took him home, where he recovered in short order and I got lots more sleep in a real bed. He also had a hemangioma (strawberry birthmark that grows) on the back of his head and we had to keep it covered with Duoderm to keep it from rubbing and getting infected. It finally shrank down to almost nothing by the time he was 2. My oldest nephew asked me once if The Starving Child had an extra brain. Naturally, I said YES. We scared the hell out of a babysitter once, when we forgot to show it to her and she paged Nigel during the movie to tell us about this head injury and how she didn’t know how it happened.

The Lottery Winner had reflux so severely that he ended up getting a g-tube and fundoplication surgery. The drs thought he was having seizures at one point, and he got a full whachamacallit (EEG?) on his head, but no signs of seizures. We have since found out that he is one of 5% of kids who are able to stop breathing until they pass out. He did this when he was in severe pain and when he was in severe fury. He would just stop breathing, turn blue, then gray, then stiffen up and pass out. He’d wake up just a few seconds later and be tired and scared as though he had had a seizure, but it wasn’t one. No fits since he turned 4, though, fortunately. He also had casts on both legs for bilateral clubfeet (inherited from my grandfather). We fed him through the tube for a year, and he’s had two surgeries to correct his feet. He didn’t get to come home until two days before Thanksgiving. Both boys came home on oxygen and all three had apnea monitors, which we took off after the 50th false alarm at 3am, except for The Lottery Winner, who really did turn blue a time or two, just to scare the shit out of grandma. We even had a pulse oxymeter at home to check their sats regularly! I sometimes think I could be a NICU nurse.

After all that fun, having three babies at home was a piece of cake. My mom stayed for a month, then Nigel’s mom stayed for 6 weeks. By then, they were 6 months old, were sleeping through the night, (except we actually had to wake them up to eat once during the night – drs orders) and were on a strict schedule designed by Nigel and I based on the schedule at the NICU. We had to write everything down – BM’s, wets, how many cc’s they drank, what we put in it, which meds and when, etc. I look back in the notebook and can’t believe we lived through it! Some of it is funny: “The Starving Child didn’t eat for shit.” Or “The Lottery Winner took 30 cc’s by tube, then pushed it all back up.” Or “The Princess ate 30 cc’s, then barfed about 15.”

I look at them now, and can hardly believe how close they were to not coming home at all, especially the boys. People say to me, “Aren’t they just little miracles?” And I say, “Yes, miracles of modern medicine from conception to 1st grade!” It often annoys me when people who hear our story talk about how I should be thankful to a god, most likely the god they worship. I prefer to praise and thank the doctors and nurses, without whom neither I nor the kids would be here today.

The Birth of the Sprouts Part Three

After all the excitement of Part Two,, they got a suite ready and dragged all the neonatologists out of the NICU to attend, got Nigel suited up, and here we went. I was freezing to death (what a change) and terrified. Nigel was trying so hard to remain calm. He doesn’t like anything to do with blood or any other bodily functions, so I give him ten stars for his wonderful strength. They told us that since the babies were 28 weeks and 4 days, they probably wouldn’t breathe on their own at birth and we wouldn’t hear them cry. They told us that we couldn’t see or touch any of them because they would be rushed to radiant heater beds scattered about the room to be worked on by the neonatologists and nurses. They really prepared us for a great crisis.

The delivery was fast. I got the lovely vertical cut, which didn’t matter to me, since I already had one from the ’88 surgery. I kind of hoped they would go horizontal so I could show off my + sign, but speed was more important. They pulled The Princess out first, at 8:32pm. She cried!!!!! I started crying, too. The nurse taking her to her radiant heat bed held her up high, and I saw her!!! She was terribly ugly and extremely beautiful! Just tiny! The Starving Child came next at 8:33. He didn’t cry, but Nigel saw them taking him to his bed and says he saw him moving his tiny arms. The Lottery Winner arrived at 8:34, and he cried, too!! The Lottery Winner weighed 2 lbs. 2 oz., The Starving Child, 2 lbs. 3 oz., and The Princess, 2 lbs. 4 oz. They were each a little over a foot long.

I didn’t get to see them for two and a half days. That was the absolute worst part. My parents got to see them. Nigel got to see them. One of his FRIENDS got to see them. My f*&^ing in-laws got to see them. But not me. They kept telling me they wanted my lungs and heart to straighten out first and that it would be hard to go into the NICU with my oxygen tank. So I finally went on a 10 hour crying and screaming jag and threatened to drag myself there on the floor if they wouldn’t take me. I got to go.

They were absolutely adorable. The tiniest things I’ve ever seen. The no nipples thing got me a bit perturbed until they explained it. By the time I got there, The Princess was already using a nasal cannula and was in an isolette (the things they used to call incubators). The boys were not doing as well. The NICU nurses said that there is a common saying, “Girls rule; boys drool,” as far as preemies go. It turned out to be pretty true. Just about everything curable that they could have had, the boys had. Fortunately, all curable! My brother, an LPN, came down to visit us and was astounded by the strength of the antibiotics they were giving the boys. They both had bilateral inguinal hernias that required surgery. They both had patent ductus arteriosis that responded to medication, so didn’t require surgery. It took forever to get them from intubation to CPAP to cannula and there were lots of steps backward before they went forward. They both got just about every infection possible: Pneumonia, gram negative sepsis, meningitis. I didn’t get to hold The Lottery Winner until he was almost a month old, and The Starving Child took even longer than that.

Since I wasn’t able to see them for so long, and since they were getting sugar water with electrolytes for food through a nasogastric tube, I started pumping even before I got to see them. Pumping sucks. I pumped for six months, then had to either give it up or give up going to see The Lottery Winner after the other two came home. There just wasn’t enough time in the day. Fortunately, I had pumped enough to keep frozen for another two months after I stopped.

Part Four to follow.

The Birth of the Sprouts Part Two

Following all the excitement of Part One, we arrived at the airport in about an hour and 45 minutes and went by ambulance to the Maternal/Fetal ICU area, where I was unhooked and hooked up to monitors etc. again. They had us in a room designed for delivery with one of those two-piece beds and it was seriously uncomfortable. There was a constant hammering noise in the vents, apparently due to the cooling system trying to keep up with the late July heat. The doctors at Hospital D had a field day with me. It is a teaching hospital, so we had doctors and doctors and doctors, all looking up me every five minutes. They decided to just try to stop any contractions with continued Mag Sulfate and keep an eye on The Princess to be sure she wasn't getting distressed. They said it was possible that we could just leave things as they were for several more weeks, as long as the babies didn't start showing signs of distress. That was fine with me, since I had done my research and knew that the longer they could stay inside, the better chances they had, both for good health and for normal development later.

It was burning hot in there (to me) so I kept making Nigel turn down the thermostat. He was freezing his ass off the whole time. One of the nurses, feeling sorry for him, brought down some scrubs to use as another layer of clothing. He called my mom, who was leaving her house to drive to Hospital D first thing in the morning with my dad. She agreed to bring him some of my step-dad's sweats to wear while I froze him to death. We tried to sleep, but with the uncomfortable bed, the three monitors on my belly, the gnomes in the vents hammering away, and poor Nigel exhibiting signs of frostbite, it wasn't easy.

The next morning, Sat. the 28th, they moved me into another room with a regular bed, which was much more comfortable. However, I began to feel lots of pain. The contractions were back with a vengeance and were getting worse. I had had a cerclage placed at about 20 weeks, and they decided it would have to come out in case my cervix opened up and tore the stitches. They called the anesthesiologist, who wouldn’t be able to come until late afternoon. I got the two other steroid shots that morning and later that afternoon as well. Nigel called his best friend whose sister was attending the nearby university to get her phone number and she picked him up and took him to a local store to get him toiletries and some clothes.

My mom and dad showed up around noon, and we all talked with the attending drs. about what our options were. If The Princess started to look bad, they could try to deliver her and leave the boys. It might work or might not. We thought this sounded like the best option, since if it worked, the boys would stay inside longer. Still, we were holding out to see if the contractions would stop with the epidural later that day.

The anesthesiologist showed up around 6pm and we got the epidural set up and the cerclage removed. I inadvertently insulted the anesthesiologist by asking if his accent was German, when he really came from Russia. Oops. Later that night, I started feeling terrible pain again and nobody could figure out why. They kept increasing the dose into the epidural. By the next morning, I was crying constantly and they finally had me sit up and found that the epidural had fallen OUT! The bed was soaked with anesthetic. Coincidence? Or did I piss him off that badly? Maybe he had family members in Stalingrad during WWII. I’ll never know. Another dr. had to replace the epidural.

Sunday, the 29th, as far as the kids went, was just more of the same, except they wanted to know more about a surgery I had had back in 1988 for an ectopic pregnancy. I was able to tell them the doctor’s name and the hospital where it was performed and the date, then they faxed the hospital for the records. Everything seemed to be going well. They weren’t able to stop the contractions, and I eventually dilated to 4, but they weren’t concerned, since we were going to go ahead with our plan to deliver The Princess and keep the boys in. I, however, started to develop pulmonary edema – fluid was building up around my lungs, making it very difficult for me to breathe. I started getting oxygen and breathing treatments from an R.T. every two hours. It didn’t really help. I swelled up like a balloon, and they had to put these cool thingies on my legs that puffed up and massaged my legs automatically to keep the circulation going. If I still had those things, I'd be wearing them right now.

Monday, the 30th, it hit the fan. They did an ultrasound on my heart, and found that I had a problem there, too. Apparently, when the volume of blood increases with any pregnancy, but especially with multiples, there is the possibility that the heart can’t handle the volume. Lucky me, mine wasn’t able to handle it. The freaking-out began. They got a fax back from the hospital where I'd had surgery and freaked out even more. Now, I had been told by the surgeon in ’88 that there would be absolutely no problem with any future pregnancies. But, apparently, multiples were a different matter altogether. All my doctors knew of the surgery, even before we started fertility treatments, so it never dawned on me that it would cause any problems. The attending was freaking out all over the place telling us that they would have to do a c-section right away and not risk anymore contractions, because I could rupture my uterus and bleed to death in 5 minutes. It was pretty exciting, in hindsight. I was so doped and swollen and uncomfortable, that I would probably have agreed to just about anything.

Part Three to follow.

The Birth of the Sprouts Part One

We got pregnant by in-vitro fertilization in early 2001. The dr. got four fertilized eggs to put back, but told us they were “low-quality” whatever that means, and didn’t hold out much hope that they would implant. 3 out of 4 did! I went on bed-rest in mid-May, just after I received my bachelor's degree – wasn’t going to miss out on the ceremony, since I was 36 years old and had waited that long to finish college! I had contraction monitoring equipment that I had to use twice a day and send the data by phone to a company called Matria. The whole thing was going just great! No excess contractions, no diabetes, no high-blood pressure. The babies were all growing fine, had no life-threatening chromosomal defects, and no apparent other problems. My perinatologist was going to schedule a c-section around the middle of October at 36 weeks.

On Friday, July 27, 2001, Nigel had left to go to a "team-building" exercise at the Zoo. We had just had a checkup that morning with our perinatal specialist and everything was looking terrific. All the kids were measuring over 2 lbs, which was great for triplets just at 28 weeks.

I had been laying on the bed, just resting after the gigantic lunch we ate after our appointment, when I decided to get some more ice water -which I craved like I now crave chocolate and Bugles and Cheez-Its. I heaved my legs over the side of the bed and felt a small *pop* and felt wetness. I threw myself into the floor to avoid getting the bed all wet (stupid priorities!) and felt it running down my leg. I grabbed the phone and went to the bathroom.

While sitting there, I first called my dr., who told me to get to her affiliated hospital as quickly as I could so they could test the fluid and see if it was amniotic (like there was a chance it wasn't - :roll: ). I told her about Nigel and where he was and that we couldn't be there for at least an hour. She said fine. I then called my mom. Bad girl! I still haven't told Nigel that I called my mom before I called him. My mom started packing. Then I paged Nigel and he called me back right away on the cell phone of a woman in his group. I told him to come home right now and what had happened.

He arrived in about 20 minutes, probably lucky he didn't get a ticket, since it normally takes about 35 minutes to get to the zoo. I had packed a small bag, just in case, and we took off.

We got to the hospital in another 25 minutes and found our way to where my dr. was waiting. They tested the fluid and found that it was amniotic. They did ultrasounds and found that The Princess's sac had ruptured, but the boys were still enclosed. They hooked me up to three fetal monitors (external) and told me to stay calm. As if!!!

An hour or so later, my dr. came to tell us that since there were not three beds available in the NICU, we would have to be sent elsewhere in case delivery was unavoidable, but that they were going to try everything they could to prevent delivery. The monitors were showing occasional contractions, but nothing big - I had had a couple of contractions per hour for a few weeks. They wanted to make sure The Princess's sac was refilling itself as it leaked and to try to find where the rupture was - the closer to the cervix, the more likelihood of infection for her. They gave me Magnesium Sulfate, which gave me horrendous hot flashes for hours, but would hopefully stop any contracting. They also gave me a steroid shot to develop the babies' lungs more quickly in case we had to deliver. Two more steroid shots would be required, but they didn't know where I'd be by then. My dr. drew little marks with "A", "B", and "C" on my belly where the babies were located so that her records would make sense when she had to fax them to another facility.

My dr. came back about another hour later and told me that Hospital B was full and Hospital C was full, so they would be flying me to Hospital D. Nigel could go to, as long as he didn't take anything. Within minutes, we were being unhooked from this and that and being rehooked up to this and that and were whisked by ambulance to the airport for a LifeFlight to Hospital D. It was one of the most terrible things I've ever experienced. Besides being frightened out of my mind, I was nauseated and contracting. Poor Nigel was just sitting in the tail of the plane wringing his hands and trying to smile at me a lot. He had called our families before we left. The plane was hot and the Mag Sulfate didn't help that at all. They had to inject Phenergan to keep me from barfing all over their pretty plane.

Good Times!

Part Two to follow

The Whiny Fussoids Have Landed - Chapter 1

The Whiny Fussoids recklessly exited their spaceship, the leader sliding on the slick stairway because the official regulations of the Whiny Fussoid Union required that he only wear socks with his uniform. He landed hard on his left hip, crying out in pain.

"You did it!" exclaimed the Captain, pointing to his second-in-command. His face was red and tears ran down onto his shirt.

"I did not!" retorted Number Two, who, in fact, had pushed the captain slightly in her rush to get to the bottom of the escape hatch stairway.

This light-hearted banter continued for some minutes until suddenly a large and hideous alien appeared, looming over the three space adventurers like a salivating schpixslapper.

It glared at our heroes and said firmly, "If this bickering doesn't stop, I'm turning off the computer."

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" all three shrieked, "WEEEEE'RRRRE HUNGRYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

"She pushed me!" said the Captain.

"I did not!" said Number Two.

"She's LYING!" said the Communications Officer.

"I am NOT!" Number Two exclaimed, and promptly burst into tears.

"Let's get you guys some lunch. I have sandwiches, crackers with pepperoni, star chicken. Which would you like?" the disgusting alien said.

The captain thought for a minute and said, "I want to go to the Burger Bar."

"Well, no," said the nasty, uncooperative alien, "We're going to eat here today. What would you like?"

Suddenly a chorus broke out.

"WEEEE WANT TO GO TO THE BURGER BAR!!!!" the crew members shouted.

"Ymnbahtipust'restrunt," whined the Communications Officer.

The alien, though ugly, cruel, and stupid, had dealt with this species of Fussoid before and knew that the preceding statement actually meant: You never take us to a restaurant.

"We went to a nice restaurant just the other day," retorted the alien, "and we're NOT going to one now. Now, what would you like for lunch?"

"YOU HATE ME! I'M NOT A BOY! I'M JUST A DUMMY!" screamed the Communications Officer.

Number Two rolled her eyes and said, "He always whines."

The huge and drooling alien went into the bathroom, closed the door, and banged its misshapen head against the counter five times. Then it came back out and said, "I'll make everyone peanut butter sandwiches. Does anyone want jelly?"

"I'm not hungry. It's my turn on the computer," commented the Captain, heading back to the spaceship.

The alien, seeing images of what painful injuries could be inflicted on the Fussoids with the dull butter knife in its ragged claws, said quietly, "You Will Eat Some Lunch Now. Get to the table."

The Fussoids, crying mightily and crazy with despair over the unfairness and inhumanity of the wicked, wicked alien, sat at the table. Eventually, each finished at least a majority of the sandwich provided by the nasty slave-driving alien.

"I'm through!" said the Captain.

"I'm through!" said Number Two.

"Akmfooo!" said the Communications Officer, who still had sandwich in his mouth.

"Okay, take your plates to the sink. Who's turn is it on the computer?" asked the alien.

Three voices cried out, "MINE!!!!!!!"

End of chapter one.

Plagues and Pox

An e-mail I sent to my mom and MIL yesterday to describe the day's excitement:

Monday, April 21, 2008

This morning, after the kids and I took Nigel to the bus stop, we came home and were planning on going for a nice hike down to the ever-shrinking lake. I set everyone up for breakfast (they didn't want to eat before we took Daddy). As they were eating, I noticed that The Starving Child's spots, which we had noticed night before last, were redder and more extensive on his face. I looked under his shirt and they were all over his back as well. Last night, he had been complaining of a headache, but he said he felt fine today. He has no more fever, hasn't since Saturday morning.

The Lottery Winner began to complain of a headache. He had spots and a fever last week, but they've all gone away. I gave him some Ibuprofen.

The Princess began to complain of a headache. She had complained last night as well, and even hurt so badly that Nigel gave her some Acetominophen at 4am because it was making her cry. I looked at her and her face is also covered in spots, as well as her back and her arms and legs. She had had a slight fever a couple of days ago, but nothing now. I gave her some Ibuprofen. She said it hurt so bad she wanted to lie down, so I told her to get her jammies back on and I'd make her a bed on the couch and she could watch Princess movies.

I explained to the boys that we would not be able to go for our hike today, but maybe tomorrow and started looking "chicken pox" up online. The boys started taking turns on the computer. The symptoms of chicken pox seem similar to the "headache, fever, spots" cycle we've seen, but the spots themselves are not nearly as large or gross looking as the photos showed. Still, it seemed likely they might just have it, since their school has been a breeding ground for it since mid-March (non-vaccinating parents - HATE 'EM). Plus, everything points out that some 30% of kids who've been vaccinated still get a very mild case if they're exposed. Our kids seem to win the odds lottery in just about everything, so I figured we'd just wait it out and see what happened.

Later, I found two ticks on Speck. Hooray. So I started looking up Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. Don't worry, it's definitely not that.

Then, The Princess started saying, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!", so I ran over to see what she was sorry about. She had thrown up all over her clothes and the comforter I had laid out for her and her pillowcase. We changed her clothes, I gathered up the bedding, found that the pillow was okay, since the barf was only on a corner, replaced the pillow case, put the comforter from her bed on the couch, got her blanket and settled her back down with the barf bucket nearby.

I went upstairs and used the shower thingie to rinse all the barf off and started the wash. A large load takes about 4 hours (no, I'm not exaggerating!).

About an hour later, I fixed lunch for the boys, and as they were eating, The Lottery Winner complained of a headache again, so I gave him some Acetominophen. I asked if his stomach was okay and he said it was. The Princess didn't want to eat anything, but the boys ate well.

About an hour after that, The Princess said, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" again. I ran over and she said, "I missed the barf bucket!" I had forgotten that she is famous for not being able to barf into the bucket, no matter how close it is to her mouth. Barf was all over her comforter, her blanket, the coffee table, the floor, and this time, all over the pillow itself. I got her cleaned up, cleaned the table and the floor before Speck could get into it, then gathered up the bedding and went upstairs to get a bath sheet-sized towel, a bedsheet, and a towel to wad up for her to lie on. I got her set up again and went up to rinse the barf out of the bedding and put it by the washer to start it when the last load ended (about 2 more hours).

About an hour later, I heard gagging noises from over by the litter box. TANG was barfing. I started laughing, sort of hysterically. Now, I'd been e-mailing Nigel with updates this whole time, and he had just written me back to say that he was considering staying at work for the night. (Ha ha, what a funny guy!) At this point, I wrote him back and let him know that he would be responsible for my suicide and would have to explain it to my family if he stayed. At any rate, I cleaned up the Tang-barf and as I put the paper towels in the trash, I heard The Princess say, "Oops."

I ran over to see what she had barfed on this time. Well, she said, "I forgot I was on the couch and I wet my pants." Yes, her panties were drenched along with the towel and sheet. Again, I began to giggle uncontrollably, in a hysterical manner. Nobody was here to slap me and snap me out of it. I went upstairs and got a new pair of panties, some wet wipes, a new tank top, a new towel, and a new sheet for her. Got her changed and set up again and took the new batch of laundry upstairs.

I wrote to Nigel to say that he should probably call the men in the white coats to come get me now. He hasn't yet responded; he's probably halfway to Lebanon by now. I think he will be safer and get more rest there than he would here tonight.

I'm beginning to wonder if we're experiencing the plagues of Egypt in honor of Passover. We've had boils and insects, and our water tastes funny since they've shut off the water system to keep us from accidentally eating breadcrumbs fishermen may have left in the lake; it's not blood, but it still tastes bad. I'm waiting for it to rain frogs and fire and have asked Tim to bring home some lamb-blood and a paintbrush, just in case.

The Princess is now asleep, looking like a little angel. The boys are getting along perfectly, playing together. I think I am the only one who has a sort of wild look in my eyes. But I think we'll survive. I'll keep you posted!

***************************

Update e-mail:

In addition to that little tidbit, Nigel has shared with me some interesting news he discovered at the drug store tonight. He volunteered to go to the drug store to get some more Ibuprofen and Acetaminophen for the kids, since we're running through it like it's water lately. He asked the pharmacist or whoever it was behind the counter where to find it and she informed him very sternly that Ibuprofen is NOT KOSHER. He said, "Fine. I'll take two."

Gotta love it!

My Girlie-girl

My daughter, the Princess, is a girlie-girl.


I am not and never was.


I have decided, based solely on my personal family experience, that the girlie-girl gene skips generations, since my grandmother was not a girlie-girl, but my mother was.


What to do with a princess? Yesterday, she wanted to paint her 6-year-old nails and cover her face with sparkly pink powder from a makeup kit she received for her birthday from my brother's MIL. I should have thrown the damned thing out. Her dream gift from Nana for the recent holiday was a "deluxe" Sleeping Beauty dress. She wanted a girl-day while we were visiting, including lunch at her favorite restaurant, which she calls The Elephant Party, and a showing of the treacly Disney movie, "Enchanted."


I am having to reevaluate my contempt for all things "feminine," and it sucks most heinously.


During my formative years, there was a school of thought that put forth the hypothesis that girls and boys were, except for the obvious physical differences, exactly the same. Girls learned stereotypical girl-behaviors and boys learned stereotypical boy-behaviors. If we could only teach them differently, there would soon be a generation of children all playing with all the toys and dressing up as the same super-heros and cowboys (there was little support, even at that time, for boys dressing up as princesses). I had on double-LP, and have purchased on DVD more recently, Free To Be, You And Me, a musical compendium produced by Marlo Thomas (formerly That Girl on TV, now spokesman for St. Jude's Children's Hospital) with such voices as Alan Alda, Rosie Greer, and Carol Channing performing gender-role-ridiculing songs, poems, and stories. One of my favorites was "William's Doll," in which a boy, who kept on asking for a doll, while his parents kept on giving him footballs and other accoutrements of boyhood. His grandma finally gave him a doll and explained to his baffled parents that William would be a father someday and needed to learn how to care for his child. I now wonder why the story illustrating a BOY emulating non-boy behavior was more impelling to my young mind than the tales of girls striding confidently out into this men's world were. Maybe it was because William's outcome was much less likely in the real world than the other. I always liked fantasy. I'll admit that I did and still do love Sheldon Harnick's poem, "Housework," rendered in Carol Channing's gravelly voice, was also a favorite.


Before I misrepresent myself as some feminist role-model, let me first add that I am a happily married, misanthropic stay-at-home-mom with no desire for a career to speak of. I am too lazy to be an activist of any sort. I refuse to wear shoes other than flats, preferably flip-flops in summer and sneakers in winter. I wear makeup occasionally. I grow a winter pelt between 10/1 and 5/31 every year, but shave during the summer. Hypocracy, thy name is Maleficent.


Still, I don't feel forced, though I probably AM, since I would feel WRONG (why?) to go swimming with hairy legs, into any of these things, and I don't want my daughter to be forced either. I should never have turned on the TV in front of her, and should have kept her hermetically sealed in the house. Not that it's possible. Nigel says we can't shelter her from the real world, but when her role-models are not us, but are the ridiculous girlie-girls out there in megacorporatiobuybuybuyland, it's difficult not to second-guess myself.


Some studies indicate that there may be some truth to the belief that boys and girls have innate behavioral differences - that there IS a girlie-girl gene. I would like to believe that this is NOT at all true. Some deep, very deep, abyssally deep desire for it to NOT be true forces me to try to turn the Princess away from her girlie-girl ways, to encourage my boys to coddle their baby-dolls (for which they begged, but on which they spend much time performing karate moves), and to teach critical thinking skills to all three.


Bottom line: It's hard to compete with the crap available to girls. There is definitely a back-lash in our country against feminism. It is difficult to set an example when I have so many contradictory behaviors and beliefs myself. Ugh.

My inner misanthrope says, "I am what I am and fuck you if you don't like it."

More confusion to follow, I'm sure.