Uncommon Julia

Still Ascending

Saturday was my birthday.  I am now thirty years old.  The big 3-0.  Luckily for me, aside from feeling very, very...um, gravid, I don't feel any older.  In fact, I still don't feel much older than 23.  Usually.  Someone asked me how it felt to be over the hill and I told him I was pretty sure I hadn't crested it yet.  And that's the god's-honest truth.

Todd managed, despite a few touch-n-go moments, to pull off a lovely party for me out at our lake cabin.  To be perfectly honest, it wasn't the 30th birthday I'd pictured in my younger days, but in the end, I think it was better.  There were kids and horse shoes and hot dogs and creek water, and nary a soul was drunk at the end of the day.  But the weather was perfect and my friends all had fun.  And in the end, I'll trade a photo like this for a drunken soiree any day.

Plus, the night before the party Todd gave me the most spectacular gift he's ever given me (children aside): a pair of stunning earrings, thereby rendering all previous acts of unintentional thoughtlessness null and void.  I don't even want to know how much they cost, but I would be lying if I said my inner girlie-girl didn't squeal every time I open the box.  If they weren't princess-cut and pointy, I'd sleep in them.

So far, 30 feels pretty damn good. 

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My work deadlines are slowing to a slightly more reasonable pace, so I should be able to pick back up where I left off.  I'll finish out my Key West post, and answer all your questions.  Thanks for sticking with me!

Work Hiatus

I am slammed.

Just before leaving for vacation, I had three clients slam me with big projects out of the blue.  Then, yesterday, I picked up three more with super-expedited deadlines.  There's actually a chance that I'll make almost as much this month as I did all of last year!  Of course, that's still not saying much (if you're a freelancer, you're already nodding along with me).

So...

I'm going to be out of the loop here for a bit.  My apologies.  Sort of. In the meantime, why don't you pose some burning questions and I'll answer them when I get back.

Travelog: Key West

Like how I phrased the title to elude to future vacations, as if there may one day be a Travelog: Australia?  Yeah, right.

Background:
We went to Key West with another couple, James and Amy.  They have a time share through Hyatt, and can trade out points (whose system is beyond me, frankly) for other locations.  We chose Key West because we could send the guys fishing while Amy (who is also pregnant, and has a daughter Hannah's age) and I loafed around, slept, and ate.

Arrival, Saturday:
By the time we retrieved our luggage and sent James off to get the rental SUV, it was 10:00 pm in Ft. Lauderdale.  After 3.5 hours of drive time and a half hour of two pregnant bladders needing pit stops, we arrived at our condo at 2:00 am.  Luckily, we were giddy enough over the prospect of sleeping in without toddlers to disrupt us, that we laughed all the way into bed.  Plus, from what we could discern in the middle of the night, the condo looked great.

Day 1, Sunday:

On our way into "town" the night before, the guys spotted a Waffle House, which apparently worked its wonders on their brains whilst they slept.  When we awoke the next morning, they informed us that we'd be going there for breakfast and then hitting the grocery store for food and supplies.

The Waffle House is on the, um, other side of the island and resembles nearly every one you've ever seen.  We ate waffles and stared at some of the locals and chain-smoking waitresses.

Afterward, we got groceries and killed enough time to make it to the requisite 12:30 Sunday time line for purchasing alcohol (for the boys, obviously).  We spent the remainder of the afternoon by the pool or napping.

After reading your suggestions and consulting our tour book and made reservations at Hot Tin Roof for dinner that night.  For some reason, the word "reservation" translated loosely to "here, have a seat at our bar and we'll be with you in a half hour", but the view made up for it.  We had some laughs attempting to take photos - apparently, Todd is incapable of keeping his eyes open when a flash is involved.  The appetizers were mind-blowing, as were the desserts.  But none of us were very impressed with the entrees, save Amy who ordered the Key West Pink Shrimp Fettuccine.

Day 2, Monday:

They guys woke up bright and early for a scheduled fishing trip, but the guide called equally early to inform them that the winds were too high to go out.  They rescheduled for the next day, which was fine with us because we'd already arranged a "spa day" and wouldn't be around to miss them.

As per multiple suggestions, we wandered down to Blue Heaven for lunch.  The guys helped themselves to several Key West Pink Lemonades, while Amy and I watched the chickens and cats roaming freely around and drank bottled water.  The restaurant was perfect.  Weird.  Eclectic.  The weather was ideal.  The food was as odd as the surroundings, but combined equally well to make me wonder why no one else'd thought of this.  I had a cup of gumbo, followed by blackened chicken with black beans and rice, a giant wedge of cornbread, all topped with Hollandaise sauce.  For dessert, we nearly hurt ourselves trying to fit in a chocolate tart and something called Banana Heaven, which was a cross between Bananas Foster and banana bread pudding, all with a side of ice cream.

After our meal, we decided to walk Duval Street, allowing our slightly inebriated husbands to walk it off while we perused the touristy shops.  We walked past the lighthouse and took some pictures, but decided that $10 per person for entrance was simply ridiculous.  When they guys couldn't take it any more, we headed home for some naps and more pool time.

For dinner that night, we showered up and got as fancy as the Key's atmosphere allows and went to Michael's, a steakhouse.  The food was great - especially dessert - but the best part of the evening was Todd's utter inability to be photographed.  We stuffed ourselves silly, then headed home to hang out on the balcony and watch DVDs on TV.

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In the interest of time, I'm going to do this in installments.  Part Two is forthcoming.

One Can NEVER - No ALWAYS - Have Too Many Flowers *Updated*

This morning, while talking to his mother, my husband actually said the following:

"Well, we just got back on Friday, and yesterday was really busy.  And besides, she already has a bunch of flowers.  Her dad sent her some."

Yeah.

Shortly thereafter, he informed me that he's done basically nothing to arrange a thirtieth birthday party for me, even though he'd led me to believe he had.  It's twelve days away.

I know there are far, far worse ways to spend Mother's Day than mopeing, doing laundry, putting your husband's vacation clothes away, and praying he doesn't call to ask you if you could run out to the grocery store to buy the food he's going to "throw on the grill" for you for your big gift.  I know because I've been there, and this day doesn't even come close to the horror of the other.

But still.  I thought today was supposed to be about me.

Tomorrow I'll tell you all about our trip.  Which didn't suck at all.

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Update:

It got better.  Not spectacular, but better.  He came home from his open house and apologized for "Whatever I did", even though he wasn't entirely clear on what that was.  I was calm enough to talk to him about my birthday in a constructive way, and he stopped being defensive enough to hear me.  So now we have a plan, and it involved little more from me than a few ideas and a handful of e-mail addresses.  So far. :)

As for Mother's Day, he did get the ingredients for the meal and cook them himself.  He said he'd do the dishes, but they're still there.  I'm silently refusing to touch them.  He bought a card (no flowers), which he forgot to deliver until this morning.  But he mentioned Hannah and Baby Sister and was sweet enough in the card to make me forgive the tardiness.

As I said, there have surely been worse.  But maybe I'll join the rest of you in Vegas next year for a true Mother's Day.

Like a Beachball... with the Red Strip on Top and the White on the Bottom

We're leaving for vacation today.  And by "we" I mean my husband and I.  My parents are here to watch the kiddo.  We'll be gone for six days - the longest by far I've ever been away from Hannah.  I'm mostly thrilled, with just a hint of pouty lower lip.  I need this vacation so freakin' badly.  And it's likely my last shot at it for a few years, so I'm going to do my best to enjoy it.

We'll be wiling away our time in sunny Key West.  Any suggestions?  Mostly I plan to sleep, feed only myself, and sun myself by the pool.  If you're very, very nice, I may share embarrassing photos of me in a bikini when I return.

You Can't Polish a Turd (Updated)

One day I'll have to do a post all about the sayings and colloquialisms I routinely use.  I really do talk that way.  Shocking, I know.

Anyway, this is the turd of which I speak.  And yea verily, there is no polish strong enough to make it shine.  However, there is some good news I can set next to it.

First, If you haven't already signed it, go add your name to the Planned Parenthood petition.

Second, here's a good story to add to your knowledge base.

And thirdly, I spoke (okay, e-mailed) with my genetic counselor, who has the most direct contact with women like myself and Cecily of anyone I know.  I asked her specifically about the wording of the law, and how it comes into play with the heart prick procedure used to stop a fetal heartbeat in utero.

§1531. Partial-birth abortions prohibited - (b) As used in this section -- (1) the term 'partial-birth abortion' means an abortion in which -- (A) the person performing the abortion deliberately and intentionally vaginally delivers a living fetus until, in the case of a head-first presentation, the entire fetal head is outside the body of the mother, or, in the case of breech presentation, any part of the fetal trunk past the navel is outside the body of the mother for the purpose of performing an overt act that theperson knows will kill the partially delivered living fetus; and (B) performs the overt act, other than completion of delivery, that kills the partially delivered living fetus;

It was her take, and mine as well, that the procedures described above aren't really taking place simply because the baby's heart is nearly always stopped with an injection through the belly (just like during and amnio) prior to the procedure.  Therefore, this law, as written, doesn't apply to a baby without a heartbeat.  The heart prick procedure isn't mandatory by law, but it is the standard practice.  This is good news because it means women who need these procedures won't have to fore go them.  And it confirms my original view - that the doctors who provide care for seriously ill women and babies in utero (who are in the business of bringing life into this world, not taking it out) are not evil abortion mongers, but rather, compassionate human beings who want the best of a truly awful situation.

Please tell anyone you know with a uterus that these procedures (the D&E and D&X, to my understanding) are still available if used in conjunction with the heart prick procedure.  Their doctors need not choose riskier options out of fear of prosecution.  You never know who might need to know this or when.  And usually, these situations arise in the midst of tragedy and emergency, so forewarned is forearmed.

That's all the stirring of the anthill I care to do today.

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Update:  Following the question about access to the heart-prick procedure, I asked the genetic counselor for more information.  And it seems that access is a real concern.  Not any 'ol OB can or will do the procedure.  And even if they can/will, hospital policies vary greatly.  If you'll recall from our situation, we had to leave the city because the only hospital here that would perform a termination (which the heart-prick procedure obviously qualifies as) required approval from an ethics committee.

It sounds like a non-emergent sitation would lend itself to the procedure much better than an emergency.  It also highlights the fact that you should GET TO KNOW YOUR HOSPITAL and GET TO KNOW YOUR DOCTOR.  Ask them about their own beliefs, approaches, and what they will or won't do.  What they are allowed to do at their particular hospital, and how they would handle a wost-case sitation with you.  Don't wait for it to happen before finding out the particulars of your situation.

Also, thank you so much to the women who've talked about their heart-prick procedures.  It is good to know that you're out there, and I am so, so very sorry you had to go through that.  You are brave mothers, each of you.