A comedy of errors, but overall a good day.

(Don’t mind the guy behind me – he’s just my bodyguard.)

Yesterday was our annual geek-fest at school.  We all geeked out, and we got to have lunch with the keynote speaker -  Laurie Glimcher.  She is the new dean of Cornell School of Medicine and she has discovered many important sciency things (the details of which I won’t get into) during her career.   She is a mother-of-three rock star, and I wish I had half her energy / intelligence / motivation.

This year’s geek-fest had some pretty funny moments.  My favorites:

• Daniele’s name was changed to “Andy” in the program, and her department changed to “Medical Nutritional Sciences,” which I suppose is approximately the same as microbiology (in a not-at-all kind of way).  Despite the program errors, her poster garnered a lot of interest from Madame Glimcher (previously mentioned goddess). 

• Erin’s abstract in the program was somehow replaced with Chadene’s personal statement.  Keyword = personal = not intended to be published for the BU School of Medicine.  Which was just as well because the printers screwed up Erin’s poster, so they had to drive it over… a couple hours late.  It finally arrived, and it was beautiful.  And so was her pretty green dress.

• Not only did Chadene’s personal statement get published, but also her personal information.  Chadene had to leave early for a special appointment.  When the awards were announced, the organizer (a really nice woman, bless her heart) told the large room full of people, “Oh yeah, Chadene had to leave early.  She has an appointment (pause… smile…) with her soon-to-be-born child!”   Chadene hadn’t actually told the world her news at that point.  Surprise!

• I gave a talk this year (see above photo).  I was told by at least one person that I looked like I might vomit at a couple points.  Funny, that’s exactly how I felt.  I love morning sickness.  So much.

Hot date

Tim’s mom offered to take Squiggles for the night so that we could have some alone time.  She’s awesome like that.  We have become quite good at finding groupons and coupons, and found one for one of our favorite Indian restaurants:  Indian Delight, in Weymouth, MA.  We really like them because when we tell them we like our dishes really spicy, they believe us. 

We also like them because they’re super friendly.  Our dinner special came with rice pudding for dessert.  I love me some rice pudding, but Tim – not so much.  So (obviously) I ate both our portions.  Our waiter noted my gluttony and offered, most sincerely, to bring me another bowl of pudding “for the baby.”  I declined.  Hesitantly.

We thought about going to a movie, but decided to take a walk along the ocean  and explore some salt marshes instead since it was a nice evening.

 

We ended the evening with the local teeny-boppers at Swizzles, where they sell frozen yogurt and toppings by the ounce -  I’m a fan.  And… we were by far the oldest people there. 

Miscellaneous weekly musings

• My daughter will eat anything.  Tonight I made a vegetarian dish: stir-fried buckwheat noodles with garlic, shallots, roasted hazlenuts, goat cheese, and arugula.  She cleaned up her plate.  Also, she will eat any kind of sauce if I tell her it is either jam or ketchup.
  
• I’m not actually a vegetarian, but when the baby is born I’m going to try to go vegetarian two or three days a week.  But maybe not for a while – found out this morning I’m quite anemic, which explains why I can’t so much as sneeze without feeling like I need a nap to recover from the exertion.
  
• I also found out that I failed my initial glucose tolerance screen (have to lay off the cookies) and I have pretty bad pitting edema (have to lay off the Cheese-its). And my heart rate is too fast (have to lay off the Pepsi).  So basically I can’t eat anything that keeps the morning sickness at bay.  Yay me, I’m pretty awesome at being pregnant.  I’ve put Cami in charge of my personal nutrition plan to make sure I don’t starve, since I don’t actually remember what real people eat.  I’m pretty sure it’s not arugula with goat cheese.
  
• I won an award at school .  I’ve gotten second place about a finity times, so they finally just took pity on me this year. 
  
• Tim puts the baby to bed every night.  I am obsessed with said baby, so sometimes I listen in on the baby monitor.   It makes me smile.  They read stories, sing songs, and seem to do a lot of tickling or other silly playing.  Last night I overheard:
  
  Tim:  I’m going to eat your piggy toes.
  (hysterical baby laughter)
  Squiggles:  NO NO eat my piggy toes!
  
  Tim:  Okay, I’m going to eat your brains.
  (hysterical baby laughter)
  Squiggles:  NO NO eat my brains!
  
  Tim:  Okay, I’m going to eat your kidneys.
  (hysterical baby laughter)
  Squiggles:  NO NO eat my kidneys!
  
  (silence)
  
  Squiggles, in an almost whisper:  Daddy, eat my kidneys again…
  (hysterical baby laughter)
  
  etc.
  
• I also watch my child sleep on the baby monitor.  I kind of like her.

Squiggles, protector of canines

It was a bit nippy out today, but we decided to go to the pond anyway.  Squiggles brought her Golden Retriever, because she can’t go anywhere without it.  She has been taking it to preschool with her.  Yesterday I told her that the puppy wanted to stay home and sit on the couch while she went to school, and she said, “No Mama.  My doggy want see Miss Mama!”  (“Miss Mama” is what she calls Miss Aimee, her beloved teacher.)

We stopped at our usual spot to throw rocks in the pond and admire the geese.  One particularly loud goose got out of the water and walked toward Squiggles.  She stared him straight in the eye and shouted, “No eat my doggy!”

I came too:

It was a beautiful day.

P.S.  This is the new baby.

The Birds and The Bees, Version 2.0

We’ve tried to prepare Squiggles for the fact that she is going to have a baby sister this summer.   This has proven a bit tricky since her limited vocabulary prevents her from understanding phrases like, “dilated cervix,” “your world will be turned completely upside-down and you will be filled with sorrow and rage” and “please don’t jump on the fetus.”

One of the professors I work with is German and introduced me to Pregnant Barbie, who apparently is very popular in Europe but was banned in the US for promoting teen pregnancy (despite the wedding band painted on her finger).  I’m not a fan of Barbie in general, but this one is brilliant.  She has a magnetic, removable belly with a little baby inside!

My professor let me borrow the Barbie because the doll was apparently highly effective in explaining to her son that he was going to have a younger brother.

Miss Squiggles LOVES the Barbie (so much that we bought one on Ebay), and Tim sat down with her and explained the facts of life (Toddler version) using the Barbie as a tool.  I’d like to tell you that everything is all clear now, but there is a fairly important point of confusion that remains to be clarified…

My daughter has been insisting that she is pregnant.

The truth of the matter.

Squiggles has had a verbal explosion over the last couple weeks, and now provides a running commentary on everything she sees, hears, and observes. 

“Oh, blue cup!”

“Mama car mess.”

“Dada burp.  Dada rude.”

Etc.

Tomorrow Tim has to take a clinical skills exam, where he will give various exams to fake patients.  Tonight we were looking  for his reflex hammer in our office, which doubles as a spare room and is where we store various odds and ends.  In other words,  it’s crowded in there. 

As we awkwardly tried to get around each other, we bumped in to each other a few times.  Mostly, Tim had to climb on the bed or flatten himself against walls whenever I (and my belly) needed to get by. 

Squiggles watched our careful maneuvering intently until she found the words to sum up the situation.  She turned to Tim and said matter-of-factly:

“Mama big.”

Well, I do like my dad…

It’s my dad’s birthday.  He’s the greatest dad / grandpa / neighbor / guitar teacher / homework helper / gadget collector /rock skipper / cattail boiler  EVER.

I wrote this poem a couple years ago:

Ode to my very favorite Dad

A hundred million years ago
On sunny springtime day,
A baby boy arrived and said
Let's go outside and play!

He quickly learned to swim and ski
And fish and sail and hike
The mountains were his second home,
And his best friend a bike.

He flew jet planes and hang gliders
And chased the rising sun,
And found a wife and seven kids
To join in all the fun.

The children's lives were magical
With huts and courts and swings,
Sailing trikes, canoes, and bikes,
Sleepouts and trampolines.

The children grew but they all knew
That life was not a bore...
He'd taught them how to find adventure
Outside every door.

Still he climbs up every hill
Through rain or hot or cold,
And all who know him love the boy
That never will grow old.

 

I love you to pieces, D.A.D.!