Dear Casey:

Kate Cho from Pearland asks:
Question: If we met this year, would you be my friend? Don't answer that!

Kate,
First of all Mrs. Cho, what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.

Second, by saying, "Don't answer that!" you guarantee a long answer. Don't tell me what to do. You know I hate that.

Let's explore what it would be like if we met this year...
If we met right now then chances are one of us would bring up the topics of polar exploration and whether or not grown women should wear t-shirts. We would both be drinking a Diet Coke and talking about how we should really quit the stuff. We'd talk about how we just discovered GWTW and how many times we've read HP. We'd argue over whether it's better to be in Gryfindor or Slytherin.

I would comment on how your compost pile looks a lot like Marjory the Trash Heap and you would laughingly agree. You'd tell me about your plans for a bee hotel, and we'd obsess over the fact that there are people in this world who buy paper products besides toilet paper only to throw them away.

Chances are one of us would suggest Taco Bell for lunch and the other would say, "I can’t go to Taco Bell; I’m on an all-carb diet. How about McDonalds so the kids can go in the playplace?" Then we'd sit at McDonalds and eat fries and drink more dc and talk about how much fun it is to go to the beach and how someone could ever choose to live somewhere landlocked (saying the word "landlocked" as though its a cuss word). We would have already learned that we are both Episcopalian because somehow you discover that about someone within moments of meeting. Based on that fact alone we would have discovered at least eight people we know in common two of which being our relatives.

A mutual love for Tina Fey and Christian Bale and Kermit would carry our conversation through the lunch hour. Because the kids are busy playing and we've got nothing else to do that afternoon we'd splurge on iced coffees laughing about how they'll keep us up into the wee hours working on craft projects and watching The Goodbye Girl. We'd talk about how weird it was that we watched that movie so much as children. "Your parents let you watch that too?!?! Were you also allowed to eat macaroni and cupcakes for breakfast? Wait? What?! Me too!" Then we'd talk about what craft projects we've been working on lately.

After lunch you would invite me to join a book club or some sort of women's group you are currently involved with. I'd smile and say, "Sure. Maybe..." all the while wondering why someone so obviously weird and nothing like me wants to be my best friend forever...

 

I would in turn invite you to lift weights or to drink scotch on my patio or be facebook friends. We would stare at one another smiling and thinking, "I picked up a weirdo." Finally you would break the silence and say, "Nobody knows anything, Joe. We'll take this leap, and we'll see. We'll jump, and we'll see. That's life, right?" and we'd be BFF forever and I'd move into the house next door to you. 

Got Milk?

I can't remember how I first learned of the need for sharing human milk. It was at some point while we lived in Austin though I don't remember how or through whom. I do remember getting on the computer when I was pregnant and finding Mother's Milk Bank Austin (Hey! Look at that! It's proof that I did do something while pregnant other than just eat queso and reread Harry Potter!). I did some research and quickly realized that donating to the milk bank was something I couldn't bear to not do. Preterm and many ill infants are at risk for something called necrotizing enterocolitis - which attacks and destroys the intestines. Human milk is the best defense but mothers are not always able to supply enough milk to their hospital-bound child(ren). Enter the milk bank. Long story short: the milk bank is safe, healthy, and effective. There were babies who needed help! How could I not apply?

First though, I had to have my baby. And learn how to breastfeed. *sigh* Details. Details. Knowing that I could donate to the milk bank only added to my determination to successfully breastfeed my firstborn. As many new moms discover, breastfeeding isn't necessarily as simple in the beginning as one would hope. But knowing that mastering the ability to feed my infant would allow me to not only feed her, but also help provide milk for fragile babies (not to mention who wants to have to wash bottles all of the time am I right?!) furthered my determination to succeed in breastfeeding. After a great trip to a lactation consultant I was feeling much more hakuna ma tatas and had finally mastered the fine art of feeding my newborn. Err... kind of. Eventually my baby and I got a (football) hold on the whole nursing thing, and I was pumped about getting signed up with the milk bank (yes, I do think I'm very punny). Going through the screening process couldn't have been easier. Some quick paperwork. A phone call with a lovely supportive employee. A quick trip (on their dime) to draw some blood (which really, after pregnancy and with a newborn what's one more trip to a medical building?). And badda bing badda boom: I was a milk donor.

The donation process was simple: pump.
That's it. Pump.
Okay, perhaps more than that: Pump. Pour into bottles. Label. Repeat.
I made a date with my pump new brest friend part of my nightly bedtime ritual. Take out my contacts, take my vitamins, brush my teeth, wash my face, pump for the milk bank. It just became a part of the nightly routine. And I discovered an added bonus: it gave me a guaranteed nightly 15-30 minutes of coveted alone time. All mothers know how valuable a few uninterrupted minutes of peace and quiet can be. Especially during those first few months after giving birth to my second child when every moment of my time was demanded. I found that pumping was my time to just sit. Sometimes I would spend the time in prayer. Sometimes I would spend the time reading a magazine. My plan was always to pray for the recipients and their families while I pumped... honestly though I spent a lot of the time during those first few months after my second child was born just zoned out in a tired daze. But it was my time. I was alone. No one was crying. No one's hiney needed wiping. No one's favorite blankie was inexplicably missing (again?!). It was just me and the quiet sounds of liquid gold. And it was glorious.

I nursed Carolena for eleven months until she demanded sippy cups. Typical. I'm surprised she didn't jump directly from breast milk to cappuccinos. I diligently pumped for the milk bank while we lived in Austin but our month long nomadic stint and Carolena's self weaning ended my donation time a month or two earlier than I had anticipated.

I nursed Nils for just shy of a year. He too discovered the freedom that sippy cups afford and began to push me away and bite and claw and bring cups to my husband demanding that he be served milk. My children are very independent and strong willed. I have no idea where they get that from.

During my second round as a milk bank donor I found an added bonus for our family: sharing the donation process with Carolena. She was thrilled to see our freezer slowly filling with milk containers. When it would reach a capacity that was full enough to make ice cream purchasing impossible, Carolena would help me load up a cooler and we'd drive to the hospital drop off location next to our house. Carolena found this thrilling. "Tell me about the babies!" she would call out as we drove. I would tell her about the pumping process. We'd talk about how Nils drank milk from my body and how all babies who are newborn need milk from mommies. I would tell her about how some babies are born and are sick or really very very little and their mommies just don't have enough milk for them. "I have more than enough milk for Nils. So we share. There is enough milk to go around. If we all share then everyone has enough."

Every once in a while I would find her sitting by herself quietly nursing her stuffed animals and baby dolls. Sometimes I would find her holding a small baby bottle to her chest whispering to herself, "pump. pump. pump." Inevitably during her "pumping" she would catch me watching her. She smile up at me and face shining say, "I'm pumping for the sick babies. If we all share then everyone has enough."

Having weaned my last breastfed baby, I have now begun a new chapter in my relationship with Mother's Milk Bank Austin. I have joined their team as a volunteer Milk Bank Ambassador - a retired donor committed to the good work the milk bank is doing. Among other things I will be distributing pamphlets to pediatrician and obgyn offices, inviting nursing moms to donate milk, and encouraging others to spread the word about Mother's Milk Bank Austin: an organization I could easily vote as the Brest in Show. 

And finally, here's a good breastfeeding joke for you. Ah, nevermind... it's a letdown.

My friends, consider sharing something you have with Mother's Milk Bank Austin. What can you share? Got milk? Get pumping! Got money? Yep, of course they need it. Got a voice? Tell a friend about the milk bank, link them on your blog, post them on your facebook.
If we all share then everyone has enough.

Would You Like Some Ham With That Cheese?

 If there is one word in this world that could describe Nils... it would be ham.

 

This guy is a ham. Ham. Ham. HAM.

 If he even so much as senses there is a camera nearby, you'll hear him humming, "cheeesseee!!"

 Every Tuesday at Weight Watchers he makes the rounds, going from chair to chair smiling and wooing all the members. Ham. Every Tuesday and Thursday when we pick up Carolena from school there's Nils, smiling coyly at the teachers, casually suggesting that they take out some extra toys for his amusement. Ham. Every time he meets someone new he hides his face into my shoulder and then repeatedly lifts his head to smile at them and ensure they've noticed how "shy" he is. HAM.

"Cheeeeeesssseeee!!"

The One-Woman Wolfpack

We went to our first mom's group/ play group this morning. First time ever.

Ever.

I've never joined a playgroup. I'm just not that social. Plus, I've never been the type of mother who is looking for things to do. We've always seemed to have a lot of things to do. Plus, plus, I barely find time to get together with my current friends - much less make time to find new ones. That sounds terrible but you all know what I'm talking about.

Or you don't. And perhaps you are the one who needs to join an activity group.

Anyway, some of the moms in our neighborhood decided to start getting together and I randomly joined the group thinking it would be nice to know some people who live nearby.

All in all it was a good morning. Not a "Fantastic - the kids I have a great new group of friends and we all painted each other's fingernails and ate bon-bons!" kind of morning - but a good morning overall. We all met up at a nearby playground. Carolena and Nils had a great time, of course, but they also had a great time in Home Depot yesterday soo... yeahh...

Actually, Home Depot is fantastic in my opinion so that is a terrible example.

Okay, back to the playgroup... Carolena and one other girl were the oldest by far (by far? they're only 4ish...) but still had a good time. Nils was a wildman and was happy to have two boys around his age to pal around with. I had a good time but am always a little tentative when meeting other stay home moms. We all know my fear is not that people won't like me. I don't care if people don't like me. My fear is that someone will like me and then be a stage five clinger. I'm more of a lone wolf. A one woman wolf pack.

Despite the agreement to get together every Monday morning (every Monday morning?!?!) and some weekends (uh... nope... no weekends) it was hopefully a good decision to join the group. I am pretty sure we've lived in Katy the longest of all the people there and everyone is just looking for a ticket out of the house. I was there once. I get it.

Also, full disclosure: I'm fighting a migraine today so I probably would have had a much better attitude sans pounding head. Sigh, of course I used my last Imitrex yesterday and Kroger doesn't keep them in stock. Why? Why Kroger?! They order it in when I need it. Seriously. Seriously?! Overall though migraines are going well. Nils is waking up. I'm just going to hit "post" and hope there aren't too many grammatical errors in this post. I joined a mom's group. That's all.

Springtime In Texas for the Duncans (Sung to the tune from The Producers of Course)

Dinner on the deck means... Daddy will cook!

 

And inevitably someone will fall into the kiddie pool...

  and we'll spend the entire evening together playing and laughing and running and squirreling around.

And the table will be set and the candles will be lit and all will be peaceful... err... as possible...

 

and Mommy will pass out ice cream

And we'll decide to do it all again tomorrow!

 

King of the Wild Frontier

The kids and I recently bought a coonskin cap at Goodwill (we are the descendents of Jim Rush after all), and it has already given all three of us waaaay more than four dollars worth of amusement.

 

Nils has very strong opinions on who should don the cap.

The Itchy & Scratchy Show

Dear Future Casey, If you ever for one second doubt the decision to not get pregnant again reread this post:

Man, 99 times out of a 100 I would not recommend people use google for medical knowledge. Feeling better about the decision to not get pregnant again is not one of those times. Geeze, any time I feel down about that decision I just need to get on the old google machine and get a reality check.

If you disagree and think I should get pregnant again it's because you weren't around during either of my pregnancies. The daily (all day and night) vomiting... for nine months. The first trimester ER visits. The 8 month mark bed-rest stints. The great liver/kidney/gallbladder bile backup of 2014. You know, that was the itchy and scratchy show that happens to like one in an bazillion women which resulted in phone calls from the doctor's office at 9pm on the night before induction insisting that I needed to drive to the ER and pretend to be in labor because "beds are filling up, and Casey, you have have the baby tomorrow..." you know - three weeks early.

I'm not exaggerating. The doctor's office called me at 9pm the night before I was supposed to arrive at the hospital and told me that beds were filling up and that I had to be in one. I was told that I needed to go in and pretend to be in labor. Really. I would have been freaking out more had it not been for the distraction of the misery of liver malfunction.

Thank you, God for our healthy Nils!

 

Our Prayers of the People includes prayers for the pregnant. A woman named Casey is on the list right now which is evidently insanely confusing for people. As everyone knows, I am the only woman in the entire world with that name who could get pregnant. Duh. Chris, loveable Chris, took it in stride and during the announcements told the congregation that it is not me that we're praying for and that he and I are going with a "man on man defense for now when it comes to parenting." He handled it so well. I actually got a few "congratulations on not being pregnant" after the service. I know the other Casey and am insanely excited for that family so I had a beer that night in celebration for them. And a second beer in celebration of the fact that I don't have to be the one barfing for 9 months! L'chaim!

Feeling much better. I knew I would have a meltdown as the big day approacheth. It was inevitable. Not getting pregnant again is just the right decision. It doesn't mean it's the easy one. It doesn't mean it's the preferable one. It's just the best choice for me. And for my wonderful family.

You are welcome to ask me about it. I'm pretty much an open book. But be wise enough to know that it's better to not ask me about it unless you are handing me a mint julep and have a few hours to kill listening to every nuance of the female brain. So I'll summarize it for you to save you some time: it's the right decision.

I can also just direct you to J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix:"A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of this speech, then Ron said," One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode.”"

In other news: adoption is around 30k. So don't ask me about that either unless you are opening a checkbook.

I jest. Except about the 30k thing. That's lowballing it from what I hear.

Hey, did you hear my clone mother is having a birthday today? She's pretty fabulous. I like her.

Remember the time I found this photo and realized I had accidentally cut my hair like that and gotten the modern (er... older?) version of those glasses? Uh... this is getting freaky people...

OOOOhhh, I love you like a pig loves corn! Happy birthday my viking mother!

The Tracks of My Tears

"People say I'm the life of the party cause I tell a joke or two. Although I might be laughin' loud and hearty, deep inside I'm blue... take a good look at my face, you'll see my smile looks out of place. If you look closer it's easy to trace the tracks of my tears."

This morning began on a very high note. Bodypump has a new release out so it was fun to start the day off with new moves and good (overall) music. And then - the fit muscular guy behind me in class came up to me when I was putting away my weights and exclaimed, "You are really strong! I am new to this class and have been following your lead as to how much weight to put on my bar. You can lift a lot of weight!" I laughed and thanked him for the compliment. Then he said, "women don't tend to get that strong in their upper bodies but I had a hard time keeping up with you! I'm impressed" - and I couldn't have been prouder.

Then I came home and Chris' looming visit with Dr. Snippet (sorry, tmi) suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks and I crumpled into a crying mess on the couch.

{sigh} Sometimes it's just so hard to know what the right thing to do is.

I Kellyed myself up and packed some lunches to bring to the library with us. A good time was had by all at toddler time (with plenty of dancing and clapping by Nils), and Carolena ran into a friend from school who hung with us for the rest of the morning. The girls had fun playing and choosing books and then we all headed out to feed the ducks and enjoy a little lunch. Some of the ducks had "a little 50 shades of gray thing going on" as the other mom put it and the girls had to be redirected to picking flowers lest they be trampled by overzealous fowl.

So, here we are midday on a day with high highs and a low low. Nils is sound asleep and Carolena is plowing through the new books we brought home. I'm trying to think about what I might be willing to force myself to eat for lunch. It's hard to eat when you spent the morning sobbing.

This afternoon: sonic drinks, the park, the ymca, a haircut?? The possibilities are seemingly endless. Whatever we do, we'll do something fun. That's the plan and I'm sticking to it.

Something for me to keep in mind in the future: that other mom has no idea what a blessing she was to me today. We never even remember one another's names. She has no idea that I spent the morning in tears facing the hardest decision of my life. She has no clue that I easily could have spent our entire trip to the library wallowing and fighting back tears and feeling distracted while my children ran amok. Instead, seeing her there helped turned my day around - good conversation with someone who loves to read nonfiction, has heard of Ernest Shackleton, bought her husband Undaunted Courage recently. Yep, I need to remember to be kind to people. You never know what's happening underneath the surface in their lives. And perhaps I need to find a way to force that girl to be my friend.

To Infinity and Beyond

On Sunday we were literally about to walk out the door when I realized Nils had a fever. So off came his church shoes and into his hand went his blankie. "Carolena," I called out from Nils' room as he happily sucked down a syringe full of acetaminophen, "Nils is sick and we have to stay home."

Before I could blink she was there in the doorway taking off her shoes and yanking ferociously at the ribboned braid in her hair, "Great. So I can take this out?" she said.

Later that afternoon she brought me an empty beer box and requested that I cut a hole in it and get down the foil for her so that she could be an astronaut.

And Nils, sick or not, saw a camera and thus was not to be left out of the picture taking:

Right Now

Right now... I'm glad I didn't sign up for the blog everyday in April challenge I was toying with entering!

I just finished pulling out a large container of strawberries from our refrigerator a few moments ago when Carolena began cheering, "Yay! They have ice cream on them!" Oh, if only strawberries began to grow ice cream instead of mold.

Our house currently smells of sunscreen and basil. A perfect home smell if you ask me. I'm debating as to whether I want to eat the basil tonight with mozzarella and tomatoes or as pesto in pasta. Decisions, decisions. Life is truly blissful when this is the biggest decision I have to make at the moment.

Carolena has a huge lumpy bruise on her head from an incident with the rocking chair. It was one of those times when there were thankfully few tears and a huge blue lump immediately forming. Because, you know, Nils' huge scab from falling on Kelly's outdoor rug had finally fallen off (into my shirt in case you were wondering. Ew.) and evidently my children believe that one of both of them should have a facial injury at all times. It makes for good conversation they believe.

Nils is finishing up medical school. If he sees anyone with a camera he gets overly excited which is why you see my hand holding him at arm's length to get this shot. All other attempts wind up like this:

Artist in Residence

"It's a ghost. He's wearing stripes and saying 'Hey, who stole my gum?!" Carolena


 

"Cheeeeese!" Nils

spring fever

Confession: I get antsy just before the spring.

Every. Single. Year.

Something about the coming of spring makes me antsy. The thought of spring and summer being within reach but not yet here makes me crazy which in turn makes me slovenly. So pretty much every year I spend all of January and February loafing about being a big slug and then all of March in a stupor just wondering where my motivation went.

Luckily it's now April so I am motivated again. The weather is finally on my side which means fewer (or no?!) migraines and plenty of time in the backyard. We've even managed a few picnics. I am back in the groove of getting my three workouts in each week and surprisingly I've moved up in my weights. What?! Turns out a few weeks of sleeping in instead of hitting bootcamp has worked out in my favor.

I have done absolutely nothing to work on the bible study I'm writing. So... the bible study curriculum I'm currently not writing I should say. And we all know my poor blog has suffered greatly. So, writing. That's what is up next for me. I need to get writing. Perhaps that will come with this new spring in my step.