Heart

I am pregnant with our third child. It's a girl. She has a heart defect.

We went in for our 20 week ultrasound, and while we were excited we already knew she was a girl thanks to a DNA test we had done at our 13 week genetic screening so the big gender reveal had already happened. Knowing the sex took some of the excitement out of the ultrasound, but it's still always cool to see the baby.

The ultrasound tech came in and did everything, and I noticed she was very quiet when focusing on our baby's heart. I didn't say anything, but when she was done I asked if everything looked ok and she said the doctor would in to discuss it with us. I told my husband I didn't like the sound of that, but being a lawyer he replied that they have to say that so you don't get all upset and sue because the tech told you one thing and then the doctor told you another. Ok, that seems fair.

We had the doctor come in, and within about a minute he told us that there was something wrong with our daughter's heart. His bedside manner left something to be desired (along with a lot of other things I complained to the hospital about regarding him), but we were lucky in that the pediatric cardiologist happened to be there that day, and said he would see us. 

The pediatric cardiologist spent over an hour doing an ultrasound of just our daughter's heart and confirmed that it is not right. At that time, he wasn't sure what the exact situation was because she wasn't cooperating with all her moving around, and because she was just so small (she was the size she was supposed to be, but at 20 weeks that means 14 oz, so her heart was tiny).

We had our followup appointment and it was again confirmed that her heart did not form correctly. She has a number of issues, but our cardiologist has reassured us that they are all fixable and while she is in the womb (a phrase that totally skeeves me out) she should have no issues as she's getting all her oxygenated blood from me and doesn't need her heart to do all the work it will have to do when she's born. She will definitely need heart surgery, it's just a matter of when she'll need it (within a few days of birth or a few weeks) and whether everything can be corrected with one surgery or not (depending on the situation she might need surgeries throughout childhood to replace man-made parts that will not grow along with her heart). We will learn more as we have more ultrasounds and meet with our surgeon.

We meet with the surgeon at the end of the month to discuss her diagnosis, what surgery she'll need, and where we'll deliver (our local hospital or a Children's Hospital). The surgeon our cardiologist has recommended seems to be the best of the best which is also reassuring. We'll also have regular ultrasounds with the cardiologist to monitor her growth, bloodflow and her heart and health in general.

It's scary. It's really fucking scary. It's hard, and it's emotional and it's just plain scary. We'll have to hand our newborn over to a stranger who will cut her open to do things to her heart. No one wants to do that. Ever.

We're coping. It's hard, but we're trying to stay optimistic and look at the good news like the fact that we caught the defects while she's still in the womb so we can be as prepared as possible for what she'll need when she's born.

There is still a lot we don't know, and some of it we won't know until she is born, which is mildly anxiety-inducing to say the least. But this is the hand we've been dealt, and we will live with it and we will do all we can to help her.

We've discussed a lot names for this little girl; funnily enough while my husband and I couldn't disagree more on boys names (he likes Aristotle, I like Thomas) there are many girl names we both loved. One name kept coming back to us, and seemed even more appropriate after her heart diagnosis - Helena Jean. My Yiya was named Helen, and my husband's grandma is named Jenny. These are two of the toughest, strongest women we've ever know and this little girl is going to need to be tough, and strong and a fighter and naming her after our beloved grandmas just seems so fitting. She'll have a guardian angel in heaven in Yiya, and one here on earth with our Grandma Jenny. And she'll need them both. 

You're rude. And lazy. But mostly rude.

And now folks, it's time for a rant.

I recently set up a Facebook event to try to organize some fun times with our group of friends. I was looking for a date that worked well for everyone, so I attempted to start a discussion about what worked best for everyone so I could call and make reservations for our group. In order to book the most economical package, we needed at least 10 people. I figured this would be easy, since people normally like fun events and we were open to ANY Saturday in October for making it happen. This couldn't be easier, right?

No, wrong.

Because somehow, it's now acceptable to reply "maybe" or hell, not even at all to an invitation.

I had a few upstanding friends reply right away, but the majority of the band of idiots I associate with couldn't be bothered to even acknowledge my event. They couldn't be bothered to take a minute to look at a calendar, see if they were free and click a "yes" or "no".

That's fine, now none of us get to go have a good time.

You know, I used to throw holiday parties. Mainly Halloween and New Years. I eventually stopped because it'd be a couple days before the party and no one would have told me if they're coming or not. I'd have no idea if I'd have to cook/order food for 5 or 15 or hell, 25 people. Because I guess having manners, and RSVPing to an event you're invited to just is just too damn difficult. Because somehow it's become ok to just, not reply to invitations. Because being rude is ok now. Because making a decision about an event in a timely manner requires too much effort.

I got sick of hounding our friends, and nagging them about if they're coming or not. So I just decided, fuck it. These parties aren't worth the stress and hassle that is required just to get an answer out of people about if they're coming or not. You want to be rude and lazy? That's fine, no parties for you.

Being invited to something is an honor. Your host works hard to make an event go smoothly and ensure that their guests have a good time and are well fed. There is time and money involved in hosting an event, and to not acknowledge or appreciate that is just plain fucking rude. Deciding if you can attend an event takes a hell of a lot less time than planning one, so have some manners and tell your host what you're doing.

Of all the stupid nonsense Facebook is responsible for in the world, I personally hate this the most. With their fucking "maybe" reply on events they have made it an acceptable response to an event. From the dreaded "maybe", we have fallen even further from good manners to not even replying and having that be ok. It's become ok to be rude and lazy. It's ok to ignore any semblance of manners and ignore invitations.

Here, I'll break it down for you since apparently I'm one of the few people who still gets this.

1) If you are invited to an event, you should RSVP as soon as possible. I thought this was a "no duh" but congratulations, you have proved me wrong.
2) If you ARE able to attend, say so. If your situation changes, and you are no longer able to attend tell the host as soon as possible. Apologize for the change in plans, as your host has spent time and money counting on your presence. To no call - no show is rude. Apparently that needs to be explained.
3) If you ARE NOT able to attend, say so. Send your regrets as soon as you know that for whatever reason you have (and frankly, I don't give a shit what it is, if it's supposed to be cloudy and that upsets your delicate sensibilities fine, just fucking tell me) you cannot attend. Your host is planning on providing you with food and entertainment and once again, if you're not coming that affects the cost and scale of the event and that information is important to the host. Once again, if your situation changes and you are able to attend, tell the host as soon as possible and ask if it's ok to still come (if it's me hosting, I'll tell you of course, and thank you for letting me know to up my food prep). To just show up after you've said no is rude. Again, apparently that has to be explained. And if you just show up without telling the host that you're coming now, don't be surprised if you don't get to eat (impossible at my events - as someone who is Polish and Greek and married into an Italian family I don't consider it "enough" food unless I can feed three times my expected guest list) as your host has not planned on your presence.
4) If you are uncertain about your ability to go, communicate that to the host and give odds on whether or not you'll make it so that they might plan the food/supplies/reservations accordingly. Tell the host AS SOON AS POSSIBLE once your plans are confirmed. To just reply "maybe" and leave it at that is rude. Again, amazed I have to explain this.

Got it? Great. Now next time I attempt to host something I expect better of everyone.

Dude. Let's do this later.

So My Little Guy seems to have inherited my delightful amoxicillian allergy. He's been on it before, but this time around (mild ear infection), he broke out in hives and splotchy red patches all over his body. I called the doctor who recommended Benadryl. I gave him some and it cleared right up.

At that point we didn't connect it to the amoxicillian because he's been on it several times before with no problems. Then my mom told me that my sister's allergic reaction didn't happen the first time she took it, but a couple times later. Apparently Dr. Google concurs that it sometimes takes several exposures to trigger an allergic reaction.

So we wake up today, he's hive-free so I sent him to school and called the doctor to ask about the amoxicillian allergy. They said they can't diagnose him without seeing the hives, which is fair. Problem is there were no hives. I would have gladly pulled him out of school to get this thing nailed down but he was hive-free. Curse you Benadryl and your effectiveness. Doctor agrees there's no point in bringing him in without the hives and we go on with our days.

Noon rolls around and I go to pick My Guys up. Hives! Hives! He has a hive on his face!

I've never been so excited to see a hive on a child before. I called the doctor and they got us an appointment so they could see the hives and we can get him allergy diagnosed.

Problem was that the appointment was smack dab in the middle of naptime, which mean no naps after school which meant my wonderful children were cranky, fussy messes by the time it came to leave for the doctor.

I manage to get them wrangled into the car and we head off to the doctor. Miraculously we don't wait long and the nurse calls us in fairly quickly.

Now, I love our doctor. We chose them based on a friend's recommendation and it's worked out very well. I have pretty much nothing negative to say about them.

What we found out after we started going there was that (now follow along here) the mom of one of the kids my sister went to grade school with is the office manager there. Normally this is no big deal and we say hi and exchange pleasantries (ok, so yes, that is awful - small talk, UGH) and move on with our lives.

But not today. Nooooooooo. Today this bitch follows us into the exam room and starts asking random questions about if my parents are still in their old house, and telling me about her family. Fine, whatever, I can pretend to care in a normal situation, but apparently she feels her small talk is more important than me answering the nurse's questions about My Little Guy's rash/hives.

So I have Mrs. Small Talk chattering on, the nurse is trying to get information about My Little Guy, My Big Guy is looking at pictures on my phone and telling us all what's happening  in them at volume 289473 in the tiny exam room, and My Little Guy is using the exam table like a playground.

I really feel like I deserve a prize for not turning to Mrs. Small Talk and just yelling, "Shut the fuck up! Just shut up! I don't care!" so I could, you know, attempt to medically care for my child.

The the kicker - Mrs. Small Talk tells us to say hi to Yiya.

...

Oh boy.

My Big Guy looks up from my phone and says, "Yiya died." Mrs. Small Talk looks at me and I'm fighting back tears and tell her, "Yes, Yiya passed away in April."

Then, while the nurse is STILL trying to get her answers Mrs. Fucking Small Talk starts asking me about Yiya.

Ok. I get it. You want to know what happened. You don't mean any harm. I understand that.

But seriously. It's like a fucking circus in this exam room, I'm obviously trying not to cry and YOU JUST KEEP ASKING SHIT.

I finally just gave up and basically ignored her while focusing on the nurse and finally was able to give her the information about My Little Guy's rash/hive situation and Mrs. Small Talk left but dude. Fucking time and place lady. If she had waited and accosted us on our way out it would have been so much better than attempting to have a conversation about where my parents live and who they're still friends with now. Dude lady, you're a mom AND you work in a pediatrician's office! Get a clue! Gah!

We eventually saw the doctor, and yes, it was noted in My Little Guy's chart that he now has an amoxicillian allergy and won't be prescribed that anymore. We grabbed a couple of suckers, said goodbye to Nemo and his daddy in the fish tank, and oh yeah, I ignored Mrs. Small Talk as she said goodbye on the way out. Immature passive-aggressive moves for the win!

Summer Wrap-Up

So it's been about three months since I snarked it up around here. Part of that is just the general busy summer season, but part of it is that I still don't feel 100% myself and am learning to deal with and accept the new reality that my Yiya is gone. Yes, it's been a few months since she passed away, but this is some hard shit to handle and it's rough and it sucks and no, I'm not ok about it yet so you can just shut the hell up asshole.

Uh, sorry.

Any ways, I've reached out for help on that front because my anger has gotten even angrier (scary, I know) and as I said, I'm not myself. We'll see how it goes but I'm optimistic that things will start improving soon.

But let's focus on the fun/funny/weird stuff that's happened this summer shall we? I will use a list, because hey, laziness.

• We tried going to a new place for fireworks on July 3rd and it was an unmitigated disaster. Over a mile walk there and back (We were told there was ample onsite parking! Ample!). The food vendors ran out of food. The kids area shut down an hour early, just as we arrived (is there anything sadder than watching a 2 and 3 year old watch a bounce house deflate in front of them?). It took us 45 minutes to get home - home is 5.5 miles away. See what happens when you try something new? Lesson learned. Never try new things again. 
• We enjoyed many an experience with carnies as we went to every local festival that had rides. It was interesting to see how many of them took their jobs, and the safety of the children very seriously (measuring kids, counting tickets, buckling seat belts...) and how many didn't (I think both my kids snuck on a car ride without giving tickets multiple times). And My Little Guy fell in love with a neon blue fuzzy fish that my husband won at a local fest. Because carnies prizes make the best lovies. Dude, I was so scared to clean that thing, I thought for sure it would disintegrate in the washer but he seems to be made of tougher stuff than I thought. Blue Guy, as he's aptly named, lives on. As does My Little Guy's love for him.
• My BFF and I continued our tradition of running obstacle course races every Saturday in June. It was awesome. Although seriously people, if you sign up for something called the DIRTY Girl MUD Run don't fucking complain that you have to (gasp!) get dirty and muddy. And stop screaming any time mud touches you.

Dirty, filthy girls. And notice my handsome mustache.

• I went on a Girls' Weekend to Indiana. We stayed in a casino resort that sold us 100 ounces of beer for $15. We had a carb-laden dinner at the Olive Garden. We indulged in a spa day. An older dude who was a total Tony Stark-wannabe bought us drinks and hit on us. We went to an outlet mall. It was pretty much everything you could ask for in a weekend. 
• I declared it a summer of park exploration and My Guys and I went to every new park we could find in the area. Some were awesome. Some weren't. Some had some weirdass parents there ("No honey, the slide isn't HUNTER green, it's SAGE green." WTF?). We had a great time though and discovered some kickass parks in the area.

My Guys thoroughly enjoyed this park, it was our best find

My husband shares my level of maturity

• We went on what was (for us) the worst vacation ever to our regular Palm Springs spot- both of My Guys got horribly air sick on all the flights, My Little Guy got swimmer's ear (mmmm expensive ear drops), we all (including our friends who came to stay with us) got this horrible flu that lasted over a week, there was a standstorm that had winds so strong they knocked the baby monitor into the pool and we had to buy a new one, someone stole my credit card and racked up $1,500 in bogus charges (I don't even HAVE an iPhone, fuck spending $600 on accessories for one!), our basement back home in IL flooded while we were gone, our rental car had to be returned cause it had a leaky tire, and we missed Disneyland cause we were all puking. We still had fun though, and their swimming skills REALLY developed while we there.
  
   Look how happy!
  
  
  
  
  

That pretty much brings us up to speed. All in all it was a great summer, and I am NOT looking forward to fall winter. Although, you know, PSL's and football so it ain't all bad.

I Don't Care

My general life philosophy is that I don't particularly give a shit about what you do unless it affects me. That being said...

I don't care if you breastfeed your baby.
I don't care if you use formula your baby.
I don't care if you pump, or combo feed.
I don't care if you use cloth diapers.
I don't care if you use disposables.
I don't care if you baby wear.
I don't care if you use a stroller.
I don't care if you co-sleep.
I don't care if your baby is in the crib as soon as he/she comes home.
I don't care if you birthed in a hospital.
I don't care if you birthed at home.
I don't care if you had an epidural.
I don't care if you had a c-section.
I don't care if you had your baby naturally.
I don't care if you helicopter your kid.
I don't care if you free-range it.
I don't care if you feed your kid McDonalds.
I don't care if you feed your kid nothing but organics.
I don't care if you plop your kid in front of the tv all day.
I don't care if you don't let your child watch tv.
I don't care when you started solids.
I don't care if you believe in sleep training.
I don't care if you let your baby set his/her own schedule.
I don't care if you let your kid cry it out.
I don't care if you make your own baby food.
I don't care if you stay home.
I don't care if your kid is in daycare.

What I do care about is that your kid is happy, healthy, and loved. And that you're not generally an asshat who tries to enforce your parenting style on me.

My family is different than your family. What works for my family might be the worst idea ever for yours. What you think is the best way to do things might be horrible for us. We're all different. We all do things differently. My way is the best FOR ME, I don't care if you disagree with it because guess what?  You're not me and your kids aren't mine. I generally work off the assumption that people are doing what they think is best for them and their kids. I know I am.

You do what you gotta do, and I'm gonna do what I gotta do and how about this - instead of getting into stupid arguments on the internet of all places about our parenting choices, how about we let each other do our own things?

I'm not defending my choices to you because they're that - MY CHOICES. And I'm not going to ask you to defend yours to me - because I don't care.

You are more than your parenting choices.

Are you fun? Are you funny? Are you a loving parent? Are you going to be there for me when the shit hits the fan? Are you going to understand that what I'm doing is what's best for us? Do you enjoy sarcastic sweary people with a biting sense of humor? Yes? Cool. Let's be friends. I don't care what your parenting style is.

One Man's Trash...

Here in the CH we have a time honored, annual tradition that is near and dear to all our hearts.

Garbage Amnesty Day.

On this most glorious of days, you can throw away whatever the hell you want (except electronics since that law passed that they're not allowed in landfills anymore - you still gotta haul that giantass tube tv to that recycling center fool) without stickers or size restrictions.

The CH is a fairly well off suburb, and in it live some strange folks who like to throw away perfectly good items for whatever reason. To be fair, I myself have done this as well but based on what ends up happening I consider it more of a charity donation than throwing it away. Our garbage day is Monday, which means that the Sunday before this holy day (GAD as we like to abbreviate it) people start schlepping the crap they want to rid themselves of to the curb. Then the chaos begins.

Years ago Scavenging Sunday was a small time event. My husband and I went out picking through other people's garbage and found some lovely items making the saying true - one man's trash was indeed our treasure. We found a chair that we replaced the cushions on, several filing cabinets, some paintings, and a myriad of other items that we still use today. There weren't too many people who were into going through what others had thrown away (weirdos), but because my husband is a gypsy at heart we were out there loading up my SUV with trash.

The last couple years have been insane though. Word has gotten out that some crazy ass rich people are throwing away perfectly good shit and folks come from all over to pick through items left on the curb. I've actually not been able to carry my own shit to the curb - people have stopped and told me they'd take it before I could even set it down. It's crazy.

The streets are filled with every walk of life - you'll see a rusted pickup truck filled with anything metal for scrap followed by an Escalade, both driving slowly down the street, stopping to peer out the windows at what's been put out and stopping to pick up items of interest.

Free shit - the great class equalizer.

I find it hilarious what people will throw away. And I'm curious about the stories behind it all. And yes, I'm judging your garbage, deal with it.

We saw some dude with piles of pallets and wood about 4-5 feet tall at the end of his driveway. What the hell? What were you doing that you got those? Where did you put them all year? How long did it take you to get them stacked so neatly?

Toilets. So many toilets thrown away. Did you just keep the old one while waiting for GAD to arrive to carry it out? Where? Where does one keep a broken toilet for months at a time?

Some of the ugliest couches I have ever laid eyes. Dude, was that fabric complementary to your home aesthetic? Really? That much floral? I shudder to think what the inside of your house looks like.

This year was a decent haul for us. After the last couple of years of coming up empty handed my gypsy husband rejoiced when we found good stuff to bring home with us.

Two highlights of our scavenging:

Storage AND workspace? Hellz yes.

We scavenged the playhouse, not the boy. We already owned the boy.

I also managed to throw away a nasty-ass loveseat that I've been trying to dispose of for years. My hoarding gypsy husband had been refusing to let it go, but finally agreed that its time had come. As he put it, it was time to "honorably discharge" the couch. Meaning we hauled outside and threw it down on the curb and let it sit outside in a thunderstorm that night. Honorable. Sure.

Now we sit back and bask in the glow of our newly acquired garbage and wait until next year for the most beloved day in the CH.

On Grief

My beloved Yiya passed away on April 25th.

She went peacefully in her sleep in the middle of the night. She was 90 years old and until she suffered congestive heart failure in February had been in good health. She had a very rapid decline in her health making her death somewhat unexpected (she was 90, death at 90 can't be too unexpected).

It's been a very surreal experience. We went to the funeral home and picked out prayer cards, a casket, flowers. We wrote her obituary. We had a wake. We had a funeral. We buried her.

She's gone, and this is what the new normal is and it's very weird.

I keep forgetting she's gone.

We went on vacation recently (let me tell you, having a loved one die right before vacation is some excellent timing), and while at the flea market there I found myself walking over to the tent advertising clip on earrings (Yiya never had pieced ears, and loved her clip on earrings which were strangely hard to find). My excitement quickly turned to tears when I remembered that no, I don't need to stop in at that tent and look at earrings because Yiya is gone.

When I was getting ready to go to my parents' house I almost called and asked if Yiya wanted me to bring her some leftover cookies we had in the house. Then I remembered she's gone.

I was going to call her to tell her something and then I remembered that I can't call her anymore.

It's been rough adjusting to this new normal.

Mother's Day especially was a hard time for me. My entire life I've celebrated and honored not only my mother but my Yiya on that day. It was a constant reminder that I'll never send her flowers, or buy her candy and a card, or go visit her again.. The whole day just sucked basically, and I spent most of it fighting tears. I didn't want to do any of our usual Mother's Day things. I didn't want to go out (having a crying fit at the zoo will really only get you strange looks), I didn't want to even acknowledge that it was Mother's Day, but I also knew that wasn't fair to my mom, my mother in law, and my grandmother in law. I toughed it out, but let's just say it will not go down in history as one of the best Mother's Days ever.

Life goes on, but grief strikes at the most random moments rendering you a sobbing mess. I was folding laundry last night when out of nowhere the tears came and I found myself having a cry-fest on the bedroom floor. I'll be in the car and boom, tears. Out running errands and I have to have a moment in the Target parking lot to get myself together because I cried most of the way there. It sneaks up and surprises me at the most random times.

The unexpected grief is the worst. I know certain things will be harder than others, and certain things will remind me that she's gone, but when I'm just doing my thing and it hits me and I lose it... That's the worst. You can't prepare for that. It's especially hard since I don't like crying in public, or around people. Hell, I don't like being emotional in front of people in general.

It's been rough.

I'm not sad for Yiya - I'm sad for me because I miss her. I know she had a long, full, happy life that almost anyone would enjoy but I'm sad that she's gone and that she's not part of my life anymore. I know it was her time, and I accept that but I'm still sad.

My Guys help. Not only do they bring me immense joy, but they keep me busy. I also have to try to keep it together for them - they don't like to see me cry and when I do they do their best to comfort me which really only breaks my heart more.

It's a process, and I know that in time it will get easier but right now it's hard and it sucks and I hate it.