|October 3, 2000
For the first time in my life, I had a stranger compliment me today on my complexion. Fluke, or pregnancy symptom?
|One year ago: I took the day off. Go read Krista.|
I'm home from work early. Actually, I left to take Oriana to her follow-up vet appointment, which only lasted five minutes. The tumor/abscess/whatever-it-is was still there, so we made the appointment to have it "removed." My piggy is going under the knife! The date was set for next Monday; I'll be dropping her off at eight in the morning, and they said I'd be able to call after lunch to find out how it went.
It will cost a little over two hundred dollars, including anesthesia, follow-up meds, and all. When I delivered that figure to Eric, he sighed heavily; especially since learning of his impending fatherhood, he's been very nervous about our finances. In the end, though, he summed up his decision quite well: "I'm not ready to lose Ori yet." I just hope she's the same pet after the surgery, and not even more fearful than she is now.
On the plus side, we have discovered that she loves yogurt. Over the past week, we've gotten quite good at the "Wrap her up, squirt in the meds" routine, and she accepts the antibiotics and the yogurt without a fuss at all. With the yogurt, in fact, she tries to propel her head forward and take the syringe out of my hands with her eagerness. She winds up with a chin covered in pink goo, but she's elated. Cressida, on the other hand, stands in the cage crying while the process is in motion; we think she might actually be jealous of the attention being given to her partner. I've been trying to remember to give her equal laptime, but it hasn't stopped that momentary bit of piggy angst.
The antibiotics are almost gone, but the vet said that we could do the yogurt whenever we liked. It may become quite a treat for the girls, who, after all, have been quite indignant about the fact that I have dared to begin eating their spinach. Whenever I open the bag to make myself a sandwich with a leaf or two, the squeaking is almost deafening. I've given them a share, but they haven't been quite satisfied. Too bad, rodents; Mama needs her leafy greens!
In the haste of the library move, I forgot something quite important: Teen Read Week. You know, as the Young Adult librarian, this is supposed to be my bailiwick; if the week were to elapse and we did nothing, I would likely get at least a stern talking-to from Boss-Lady, if not from Boss-Zilla. I remember being informed of the upcoming event a while back, but it got pushed to the back of my mind, and now...two weeks away? Yikes!
I scanned all of the ALA's suggestions, but I didn't see much that could be implemented in less than a month. Challenge another library to a Read-A-Thon? Set up a poetry competition? I didn't have that kind of time on my hands. I began flipping through the websites of other local libraries, trying to see what they might have programmed. Nobody seemed to have much of anything, or else they weren't giving away their secrets ahead of time. All I could find was one library's reference to a program wherein teens could eliminate their library fines by volunteering as pages.
I went to Boss-Lady and told her about the idea. "We don't really have much work for them to volunteer to do right now," I concluded with a sudden brainstorm, "but we could do a read-in! You know, read for a certain amount of time, lose a buck's worth of fines."
"But our clerk hates those kinds of activities," she reminded me. "The 'Food for Fines' program around Christmas drives her nuts, since it's money out of our budget."
My mind was working fast. "And how would you control it, anyway? No, that wouldn't work...well, I still like the idea of a read-in. Since the theme of the week is 'Take Time to Read,' why don't we just make it a Free Read Night? We could provide pizza and sodas, pull the sofas into the storytime room, and provide carts of books for them to relax and read? We could run it for about three hours on that Tuesday night."
She loved it. I love it. The kids should (I hope) love it; who doesn't like pizza, after all? And it should take minimal effort to prepare. Now that's my kind of program!
I went ahead and made our first appointment with the homebirth midwives for October 19th. Not only did Barbara remember us, but she'd been thinking and praying about us. She was quite pleased to learn that we'd finally made it to pregnant, and was happy to set up the appointment. As it turns out, we should have no problem with other births around our due date; the last one before our date is at the end of March.
In other news, we had a landmark event early this morning:
ERIC (half-asleep): It's cold in here.
To fully appreciate this exchange, one must take into account that Eric is a human radiator, and I'm normally an icebox. In the car, he cranks the air conditioning to the max, while I shiver so badly that I see double. I love piles of blankets on the bed; he wants his feet uncovered and the fan blowing on us. For me to be the warm partner is probably the biggest role-reversal we've ever had. It's been this way for several days now, too; in the car a few evenings ago, Eric was treated to, "It's insanely hot in here! Oh, by the way, I'm your new wife."
He hadn't minded a bit before this morning, when I removed all but the sheet from our bed and cranked the fan to "High." Even then, I was almost too hot to sleep well.
I am sleeping a little bit better now, though, since I gave in and ran out to purchase several jogging bras just for nighttime. The pain seems much lessened by the increased support, thank God. I've heard from a couple of women that this horrid breast pain should end around the second trimester, which I'm eagerly awaiting with every ounce of my being.
On the other hand, Little Bit is supposedly working on making a four-chamber heart today, and I'd hate to have him do a rush job on that...