Career Track

I'm typing this on my old buddy, Dr. Marshall's laptop. I am sitting on the 34th floor of a fancy hotel in Chicago. It's the Society of American Archivist conference and I am here until Saturday evening. So far its been very nice and has included attending a women's collections roundtable and shopping for bathproducts at Lush.

I miss my kid, tho. And my cat.

Oh. And my husband. Him too.

The bathtub is so big I could lay flat in it if I'm not careful. Until about a month ago, Donovan was so small, we had to give him baths in a roasting pan.

Room service should really provide kitties.

Faeries? Gypsies? Black Marketeers?

I really don't know where he gets it. The cuteness, that is. His Dad is good looking and I have my moments but, honestly. I think he's a changeling.

"Hello, I'm Britney Spears..."

I think I won the White Trash Momathon today--and I was'nt even trying. I took the bus to the South Side today, boy in tow, to get a very much needed haircut. I had arranged to meet my friend, Kirsten, who graciously offered to watch Donovan for me while Marla hacked away and the underbrush of my head. I met Kirsten in Starbucks and, from there, we went to Burger King. In my defense (I being the one who suggested it) we were both so hungry and it was so hot that thinking straight was definately not a possibility. From there, I went to my appointment and Kirsten took Donovan to look at pigeons. We met after at Tuscany and, after that, I went to catch the bus.

A brief explanation: the only route that connects Polish Hill to South Side is the 54C. I love me some 54C, but there are two 54Cs: the one that goes to my house and the one that doesnt. And the one that doesnt came while I was waiting for the one that does. Twice. And on Saturday, that means 3 hours worth of waiting. By the time the second incorrect bus came by, my extremely patient baby was getting ready to blow. I said The Hell With It and went to the 4th food joint of the day: Qdoba. Let the record show that this Qdoba does not have a changing table in the ladies room. I was forced to change my son's poopy diaper on one of the picnic tables outside, after which I came in, washed my hands, and made him a bottle of Enfamil in the bathroom. And then I got a chicken mango salad, called my husband and told him to pick us up there when he was done with work 45 minutes later.

In writing this all out, I think I'm going to lose the White Trash Momathon on the technicality that I did not feed my 5 month old son any french fries at Burger King. Damn!

Buck and a Quarterstaff!

One of Donovan's favorite things to do is "stand up." I put that in quotes as he's obviously too young to stand up on his own. I hold him up under his arms and his feet rest on my legs. He gets all cocky and usually breaks into this huge toothless grin. Sometimes he yells. Yesterday he put his fists on his hips and, with his head cocked to one side, he reminded me of this:

Don't you worry, never fear...

Cautiously Optimistic

Mike got off of work at 6:30 today. Donovan and I met him at the store and then proceeded to Monroeville to visit Nina at the vet's. I have never visted a vet before in the here-to-see-a-sick-friend sense and, much as I wanted to see my kitten I did feel a bit odd about it. After a brief wait in the reception area they took us thru a keycard locked door and into the emergency room area. There was a little operating table in the middle of the space and people in scrubs scurrying too and fro. Nina was in a cage along the wall and, when she heard us, she perked up and started trying to roll around and meow. The poor thing has one of those cones around her neck and some sort of tube connected somewhere down yonder. They shaved off patches of fur on her neck her left front leg, around both front paws and her stomach. Despite all of that she was really alert and active and wanting to crawl up my arm and around my neck. When we realized we were just getting her riled up we closed the cage door and said our goodbyes. The vet said that, if she keeps tomorrow's meals down, we can take her home tomorrow night!

Its not quite time to order the cake and balloons--we're still waiting on the biopsy results--but it was so good to see my goofy cat being goofy again. It made me realize how long its been since she's truely been her self.

Only Love Can Break Your Heart

The first half of the day was good. In fact, it was one of those strange days where all sorts of little, inconsequential things were above average. I had the Archives room almost to myself, so I was able to get alot done. I was worried that I would screw up an assignment my boss gave me but she emailed me to tell me it was "perfect." When I left to go to lunch I got to the bus stop exactly as a bus pulled up that would deposit me at Craig Street and, when I went to Lulu's, today was my favorite lunch special. While I was at lunch, I called my friend Amy and we had a great, albeit abbreviated, catch-up session. I left right as the sky was beautifully dark and threatening and made it back to campus, and cover, right before the skies opened.

Today Part 2: Mike had the day off and he took Nina to the vet. The Emergency Vet. Our vet didn't have an opening until Thursday and we had agreed that Monday was Vet Day for Nina, come Hell or High Water. Mike called to tell me that x-rays showed an obstruction in her intestines and she needed an ultrasound to see what could be done. The bill at that point was more than our bank would let us put on our debit card so out came the dreaded MasterCard. That was at about 2pm. At a little after 4, he called to tell me the ultrasound would'nt be done until about 6 so he would come get me, we would get the boy, and figure it out from there. When we had the whole family in the car, we decided to drive to Monroeville together to get whatever news there was.

It takes alot of energy to sit quietly in the back seat of your car, next to your innocent, sleeping son, as your husband drives thru the absolute worst rain you have ever been in. Ever. In your life. The torrents started when we were irrevocably on the parkway with nowhere to go but forward. Mike was silent, I was silent--I think we each were trying to keep the other calm. For not having gotten his license until he was in his 30s, my husband is an excellent driver under the worst conditions. We made it out to the vets where we spoke to the heartbreakingly young doctor who explained the surgery they wanted to do and, when I asked, told us the price. She left while I cried. Mike and I talked it over and decided we had to have her get the surgery. Then we made a blood pact of silence, never to tell anyone how much it cost. We can probably recoup half of it if we put the kid up on eBay...

ANYhow, they brought our poor tabbygirl in to see us and, bless her, she purred and did that thing where she pushes herself into me when I hold her. I had to ask for a lint roller before we left.

We just got a call from the vet that her operation went well and that, while we need to wait for a biopsy to know what the obstruction actually was, the surgery was done with no problems. In fact, when they "took a look around" they did'nt see anything out of the ordinary in her abdomen; kidneys, liver, etc. all checked out. They are going to keep her there a few days to gain her stength and see how she handles food.

Have you ever seen a cat with an IV? My cat Ivy had one once and they put it on the back of their front paw with surgical tape, just like people. Its so cute and sad at the same time.

But enough of that: I'm happy for good news. I'm trying not to fall into my usual voodoo thinking that allowing relief will ensure disaster. I'm just looking forward to sleeping with a little less worry in my heart.

Super Genius

All the books (both of them) say that you should start introducing your child to solid foods when s/he is about 4 months old. Must we? The bottles seemed like a pain at first but now, especially with the premeasured Enfamil packets, we've got it down to a science! Solid foods, what with the spooning and the spitting and the dishes and the whatnot: who's got the freakin' time?

That being said, we scored a sweet "Amish" highchair off of Craigslist a few months ago. I think, as far as furniture goes, people apply the word "Amish" as an adjective as long as its not plastic and doesn't need batteries. I don't know if the design itself is traditionally Amish or not but, considering it flips over one way to be a rocking horse and the other way to be a desk, who knows? As with most things, the seat is still too big for our delicate little baby but, if we are going to start with the solid food thing, we need to jerryrig it somehow. I was cutting fabric in my head to make a padded cushion when I remembered: a friend of Mikes gave him a babysling but we've never used it as, since his friend's kid was born, that model sling had been recalled for a faulty ejector button. Defective sling + Amish highchair and, VOILA!



Yes, I am a Super Genius.

It's rainy and cool out today. I'm excited to dress the boy for fall weather but scared he'll catch the TB if he gets rain on him.