Why Couples Prenatal Yoga is Not Appropriate for People Who Can't Be Serious and Pregnant Women Who Can't Control Their Emotions...

Because I love yoga and because Todd loves me, coupled with the fact that it was my birthday weekend, I was able to talk Todd into attending a "couples only" prenatal yoga class. I thought this class would be a lot of fun considering I love yoga, have been doing it intermittently at home and would perhaps be a good venue to introduce Todd to yoga.

Upon arrival you could tell we were obviously not in the same mind frame that the other couples were. We could not stop laughing and joking around...

All of us were pregnant (obviously..) and had brought our "support partners" (because who has spouses these days, right?!).

To get started the instructor asked us to introduce ourselves, tell how far along we are, what we expected to get out of the class, if we're prepared for childbirth, and for the "partners" what kind of "body connection" they were expecting from the couples class.

For example: "My name is John, I'm here to support Tracy. We're having an at home water birth and I want to be able to support her throughout her labor. I think this class will help us connect in a way that will help me understand her needs as we bring this wonderful life into the world. I am here for her and anything she needs."

Right. Sucker. The second she gets in that tub and you get too close to her she's going to grab your neck and shake your emaciated little hippy body until you can't breathe anymore....

Me: "My name is Rikki...I'm about 37 weeks...I've done yoga in the past and really like it. I'm SO ready for childbirth mostly just because I'm SO DONE with being pregnant. I'm uncomfortable, have something jabbing my ribs and can't breathe and am so ready. Perhaps not emotionally ready, but oh so physically ready for it. I brought my wonderful husband Todd to his first yoga class today."

Todd: "Hi. My name is Todd and I look like I'm about 39 weeks. Umm. My wife and I already had a 'body connection' about 9 months ago - which is how we ended up here in the first place. And I want to be able to touch my toes again with my fingers."

And I was laughing hysterically. No one else really 'got it'. We were busting up though. And that set the mood for the rest of the class. They were all serious and we were class clowning it. It was a blast. If you've never seen your husband attempt a "down dog" I seriously recommend it. Hysterical.

By the end of the class I'm pretty sure the rest of them had had enough of our joking and obvious inability to focus on the "connection" we were failing to make. Plus, we were probably just one of those couples who race to the hospital (*gasp* - not the natural birthing center or the big tub in the front room) ask for pain meds (how could you dope up not only yourself but the baby too? Why would you miss out on one moment of this beautiful experience?) and then get an epidural (are you unfit for motherhood?). You've hit the nail on the head hippy yoga-masters. Read us like an open book.

We'll just be making our way to the door.....but, wait, not before we spend the last three minutes of class practicing non-verbal communication so our partners can learn to recognize what we need emotionally without having to say it by "gazing into each other's eyes without speaking." Sounds simple enough. But really, have you stared at someone non stop for that long? Plus, when I looked at Todd he had his eyes crossed. I could not hold it together and finally I burst out laughing. Out loud in a huge yoga room with 12 other people who were able to maintain their calm.

Not only did I burst out laughing, but when I couldn't stop, in some weird pregnancy - induced hormonal fit I started crying! It was awesome. Todd kept asking my why I was crying, but since there really wasn't any reason for me to be crying, and since I now felt like a retard, I just kept crying.

Luckily during the "corpse pose" relaxing 5 minute finale to the class I was able to calm myself long enough to make a half-assed exit from the class. Wow. That was fun. Maybe next time I'll get a DVD and we'll do it at home.

Play by Play: Live From the Doctor's Office

** This blog contains no references or pictures of me climbing ladders, installing roofing or any other activity where I look like I'm going to fall due to my compromised sense of balance. It was starting to scare the regular readers. **

Rather, a brief summary of yesterday's Dr. appt:

Dr: How's it going? Any contractions yet? Getting pretty close...

Me: I don't think so. Although, a couple of weeks ago I was trying to start the weed eater and felt this little tinge of pain in my side and then my whole stomach got rock hard for a few minutes.

(Side note: I was trying to start the weed eater to weed eat the septic mounds at 8pm on a Sunday night...because that's the kind of crazy I am these days. Todd refused to help me start it because he's able to recognize my crazy behavior and I continue to pull and pull on that damn weed eater until it finally started. Todd looked on very disapprovingly from the front porch. So, when my entire abdomen spasmed I did the only natural thing: hide it from Todd.)

Dr: That's normal. It's about that time Braxton-Hicks might start showing up.

Me: And, come to think of it, I was moving a bale of hay (read: unloading an entire wagon full of haybales) and had this horrible pain in my side. It didn't last long and doesn't hurt now.

Dr: Hmmm. Yes, your abdominal muscles are under A LOT of strain in their, uh, current state. Again, not unusual. Did you ever think about asking someone to move the hay for you?

Me: Uh, yeah......I guess.....anyway, forget it......And....next week we're planning on a trip to Eastern Washington to my family's cabin in Omak. Do you think its safe for me to go?

Dr: Yeah, if anything were to happen you'd be close to Omak General Hospital.

Me: Well, it's like an hour outside of Omak, take a right and then 40 miles on a dirt road.

Dr: You're due in 3 weeks and from what I've gathered about your "birth plan" you don't intend to do it on the table in that cabin, right? Hospital all the way? What kind of throw-down challenge are you in here?

Me: Right.... Todd said it would be alright because as long as they can get me on a tarp in the back of the truck he could probably get me all the way back to Bellingham before I delivered. All he'd need is a bucket of water and a sponge to keep my blow hole wet - I think he saw them transport a whale like that once. And it lived.

Dr: Right. We'll check you the night before you go (to see if I'm dilated at all..) and stay away from the stuff that will induce labor, like sex and the nipple twisting - you should be fine. See you next week.

Me: Sweet.

And The Barn Has Lights!

Yes, its true: We accomplished our very first wiring project on our own - together. We didn't mean too, and certainly wouldn't have attempted it by ourselves, but my dad was on vacation the weekend we planned the big event and its just getting to be too dark in the morning to really go much longer without lights inside the barn.

Now, for those of you who don't know Todd is a little shaky with the ladders (remember when I was screwing together roof joists and putting on the metal roofing while he handed up tools and screws?...) so I ran the wires down the center beam to all the necessary outlets and installed and wired in the overhead lights while Todd was the brains behind the operation, figuring things out from the ground.

One would think that with only two wires (one black, one white) and a copper ground it wouldn't be that hard to get it right.

Right.

First we had power to the outlets, but not the lights. Then we had power to the lights but not the outlets. Then the outlets had constant power and no lights, but both the black and the white were hot to the lights, but they wouldn't come on. Then, the outlets worked but the light switch wouldn't turn the lights on or off. I was up and down that ladder making adjustments and nothing was working!! This was like some torturous mind game that was about to send me over the edge!

AND every new adjustment to the wiring plan (or lack thereof...) meant a jog to the house (which seemed to get further and further away) to shut off the breaker (not falling for THAT one again...) and then a jog back to turn it on to test the new arrangement.

We had nothing and my legs felt like they were going to seize up after my ten millionth trip up and down that ladder with the drill, wire strippers and power tester. Todd, admittedly being the more logical of the two of us, went to the shop and traced a line there that actually worked: as in it had lights, outlets and a switch that turned them on and off. By this point my brain could not take the stress of the power issues and in the time it took Todd to go to the shop and back I was able to dismantle most of the work we'd completed thus far! My logic said "start over" while his was more like "we're almost there....just a few adjustments and we'll have it." He shoulda moved faster. I was ripping wires apart faster than a power shopper goes through a sale rack.

I mean, how can both legs of the switch be hot at the same time and the switch NOT shut it off at all? This exercise in futility was frying my brain and in the last possible wire formation and one last half-hearted jog to the breaker box and back we had lights!! We had lights AND the switch worked! We had light, the switch worked AND the outlets had power!!

Ten hours later, one near-meltdown and a fried brain and we had it!! We have one entire side with lights and now we need to put them up on the other side. Perhaps next weekend - not like we have a whole lot going on, right?

Thank God for Chiropractors

Sooooo...the whole "bucking bales" thing left me a little, say, sore in the back area. Apparently strained muscles in the front goes hand in hand with outta-whack in the back too. I woke up yesterday with symptoms of voodoo-doll pin in the spine pain that would nearly drop me if I bent ever so slightly and lifted anything of consequence. I'm talking pain in my lower back that made me stop breathing momentarily and grab for the nearest counter.

Next stop: chiropractor!!

I'd been to the chiropractor when I was about 3 months along...ya know, when it was still comfortable to lay on my stomach and get wrenched around.

So, the whole drive in I'm wondering how in the world she's going to fix my back with me laying on my front. Because lord knows at this stage there is NO WAY I can be comfortable laying on my front. I assume the front-up/back-down position when the doc says, "Why don't we try the maternity pillow and see if that's comfortable for you. If not we'll go face up." What? We're going face down?

So, then she reaches for the back of the door where, hanging, is the oddest looking mass of pillowy/padded/upholstered material I've ever seen. I'm thinking if I were wearing a fat suit and made a plaster mold of me this is exactly what it would look like. Exactly. Wait....I already am wearing a fat suit! And then it sinks in - this thing is shaped just like me! There is padding around my collar bones, two big holes that I think my arms go through (but they don't...because as I reach to put my arms through them she says, "Those are for your breasts...if they were bigger..." thanks a lot...even pregnant I'm getting the small-chest comments) and a suspicious looking cutout for my gut to hang through that looks kinda like a hemorrhoid pillow on steroids.

I lay down on this thing and I realize it is like heaven right here in the chiropractor's office!! I hadn't realized just how long it had been since I actually laid on my stomach - and just how much I missed it! I thought about asking for some time alone so I could enjoy my new found pleasure, perhaps catch a little nap... it was an amazing feeling.

It was more like a back massage and stretch to loosen me up and a neck crack that made her say, "Wow, you really needed that one" and then I was on my way. It felt amazing. In fact, I'm going back every week until I give birth just so I can lay face down for that 15 minutes - that's how good it felt!

Knowing When to Say When....

....bucking bales at 8 1/2 months pregnant is one of those times when it's time to say when.

I only know this because I helped unload 75 bales of hay off a trailer last night and then laid in agony while Todd massaged what felt like a torn muscle in my oblique/stomach area.

Not only are those muscles under immense strain as they peel apart to cover the massiveness of my ever-expanding front side, but I would wager a bet that using them in that fashion was too much strain for the poor ready-to-spring-like-a-rubber-band muscles.

Yes, my friends, its true: even I will concede there are some things that are out of my league in my said "fragile" state.

Don't worry, though. Although our hay is stored for this year we'll be doing it all over again next year. And this whole pregnant through the summer thing has gotta go!

Metal Mulisha

That's right. Metal Mulisha. We had nearly front row tickets to the coolest act in town on Saturday: Freestyle Motocross at the Northwest Washington Fair hosted by Metal Mulisha featuring the "godfather" of freestyle motocross: Mike Metzger.

I have found my new calling.

Although I've never really been on a motorcycle like the ones they use for motocross I am totally, 100% convinced this is something I can do. All we're going to need is ~100 yards of pre-sifted clean fill delivered to our house and arranged in one 30 foot tower of power with a landing ramp on one side and a starter jump at about a 75 degree angle long enough to shoot me 45 feet in the air. I figure this will give me enough clearance to practice my new stage act.

Bring it on.

I'm going to start with conquering the jump/land sequence itself, but when I get better I'm moving straight onto tail whips and endos. I have a new trick up my sleeve too. We've all seen the mid-air 360 where they launch off the ramp, pull back, go 360 over their back tire and land facing forward again. Child's play. I'm talking 360 degrees of fury spun from side to side. I've never seen it and I'm about to bring it. I swear we'll be seeing it at the next X Games. Anything but an exact, calculated, flawless landing will surely end in near-death bone crushing agony. I'm so ready.

So, I figure if we get started this fall (because, really, should we be starting this at 8 1/2 months pregnant?) we can totally transform our farm into the coolest motocross course around. Our neighbors will most likely disapprove, but once we've cleared out the cows and brought in some earth movers and completely changed our landscape into a barren motocross speedway how could they be anything but impressed?

If we sell the Harley and buy two new dirt bikes (ok, three or four since I'm sure my learning curve will leave one or more totally destroyed) and up our medical insurance coverage I think Todd and I could be the motocross twosome this county needs!

Are You Sure We Don't Need a License For This?

So, we had our tour of the Child Birth Center last night. The facilities are fantastic and the nurses seem really great, so I'm sure things will go off without a hitch. It was a brief information session with the L&D nurse, some question and answer time and then a quick walk through of the birthing suites and the post-partum recovery rooms.

It's just the question and answer thing I'm so caught up on. I understand we were all first time moms in the class, but COME ON people, have you NO idea what you were getting into? Have you not read ONE bit of advice on becoming a parent or what its like to even BE pregnant? Can you NOT reason logically? What WERE you thinking? And, where are the people who obviously should be giving out the permits for this whole baby-having thing?


Example #1: In the whole "what to expect" section of things, the nurse explained that "in the first hour post-delivery a nurse will be around 4 times that hour to massage your uterus. You can do it yourself as well as this will help it return to its normal size quicker." Horrified, one lady raised her hand and asked, "When you say 'massaging the uterus' you mean from the outside, right?"

What do you say to something like that? The outside? Really? 'Cause you seriously think after pushing something the size of a full grown Shih-Tzu out your va-jay-jay they're really going to have the audacity to ram their hand back up in there to see if you're hemorrhaging? Really? Really? And just how would they see if you were hemorrhaging with their fricking hand up there? Yes, you massage it from the outside.

Example #2: The nurse, explaining why not to buy a nursing bra yet since you don't know what size you'll be and your milk won't come in for 2-3 days fields this question: "When they take the baby away do they feed it? I mean, aren't they hungry? And, if your milk isn't here for 2-3 days what do they eat?" So, SO, so many things wrong with that statement.
First of all - were exactly are "they" taking it to? And why are "they" taking it away? We had just covered the fact that the newborns room in with you. They don't ever take them "away." That's the whole point of having a private birthing suite - they stay with you. Were you even paying attention to this lady's spiel about the hospital? Geez. And, moreover, where have you been the last 9 months when the doctors, the books, your friends, your mother - even complete complete strangers explain to you the idea of colostrum and how it nourishes the baby in the first few days until your milk comes in? What about the idea that it may already be leaking out?
This lady's about to pop and has no idea what the baby eats.

Example #3: During the discussion about what to expect when laboring the nurse points out "this isn't going to be some romantic, candle-lit event - this is labor!" the granola, hippy, all I wear is velour dresses and carry hobo bags lady stops her to say, "But, as part of our birth plan we wanted the lights dim and have scented candles burning." The nurse then had to explain to her how each and every room in the hospital is equipped with an oxygen tank and how that is somewhat incompatible with her "birth plan" or anyone else's idea of having a frickin' open flame in their room. Bring an oil warmer or something, 'cause you're going to have a whole hella lotta people rushing in there to snuff out your candles while you're jacked up in the stirrups. This is the same lady who asked if it was illegal to bring gifts to your nurse. Like bribery? Thoughtful, but yes, illegal. Is she going to be so terrible that she's already thinking about bribing her L&D nurse? Christ.

But, then, how would we know if we didn't ask? Secretly I wanted to ask if Griz (our dog) could come visit me in the recovery room, but seriously, I kinda know deep down the answer would be no and I don't want to end up on someone else's blog about some idiot asking whether or not their dog could be in the labor room.

People have been doing this baby-having thing for thousands of years now. I'm assuming it'll go just fine. Those other ladies are in for a big surprise though. Bummer.

Dad Goes Down the Well.

I know, I know.... not like "What's that Lassie? Timmy fell down the well?"

Let me first preface this post with saying: Dropping someone down the well casing to clean it out is NOT normal behavior. However, my parent's well is only ~18 feet deep and this has been done before.

One of the joys of living in the country is the opportunity to have one's own well water and septic system. Public utilities (like water and sewer) are so convenient, but when you must tend to your own well and septic systems and your water starts turning a little murky and smelling a little musty you start looking around mentally measuring waist sizes of your family and friends in an attempt to assess just who will fit down the well casing.

Now, when I was a little kid I always had the job of retrieving things from tight places and doing weird things where no one else could fit. (Except for the time my younger brother got his hand stuck in the wall trying to find an electrical wire...but that's another story...) For instance, once while adjusting the timing on a car my dad dropped a bolt down into the engine and although you could see it no one had small enough hands to grab it. "Hey, run in the house and grab Rikki." Or, the time just last summer when I got to wire the thermostats in the attic crawl space because, "Honey, I just don't fit up there."

So, naturally, I figured I'd be going down my parent's well to spray it down and pump it out. And, had I not been 8 months pregnant I think I would have gone down there. My mom insisted, "You're not taking my grandson down there." But really, in my current state, inch for inch my dad's waist is smaller than mine. That, and there's nothing like calling Medivac for help extracting the pregnant lady stuck in the tight spot of the well casing. That's a one way ticket to a Darwin Award.

When I arrived things were mostly staged and ready to go. The above ground portion of the casing was removed, the sump pump was in place and the tractor was ready with a chain hanging from the bucket to lower and then raise my dad in and out of the well. Perfect! I brought the camera and a cell phone (because really, what could possibly go wrong?!) and Todd arrived wondering if we'd already signed off our confined space entry permit. Right. We'll get right on that.

And... things went off without a hitch! We lowered him via the chain suspended from a diving-board like thing strapped to the bucket of the tractor, then handed down the hose to spray it down and then we pumped out the mucky stuff at the bottom and hauled him back up. The well is doing great and it'll probably be another 25 years before we have to do it again.

We lowered things up and down via a bucket on a rope and all I could think of was that creepy scene from Silence of the Lambs where he has that girl down the hole and keeps saying, "It puts the lotion on the skin or it gets the hose..."

Looking through the pictures now I likely think we would have been fined by OSHA, the county, the state and whoever else would have witnessed this event. Todd hoisting him up (very gently..) using the bucket of the tractor was priceless and all my dad had to say when he got up was, "I think that's the last time I'm going down the well." Good thing Todd and I were there to witness just how to do this so next time we can be more helpful!

Thank god we're on a water association.

The Best Oatmeal I've Ever Had.

Scene: Our Bedroom, 4:45am today.

My alarm goes off and I'm out of bed. Todd's still laying there because he works long days all week long so he can have Fridays off. I'm pissed for no obvious reason other than the discussion we had the night before about whether or not we should use baby lotion on the baby and some weird dream I had about a total stranger constantly asking me why I "just can't get along with people." I'm ready to ream someone and the sun isn't even up yet.

After showering, a quick hair fix (ponytail again..) and a touch of cover up in an attempt to disguise the "puffiness", I start to get dressed. From my own perspective a pregnant lady getting dressed is kinda like watching an elephant doing the hula. I can barely lift my legs off the ground because of the "strained ligament" episode (remember the frozen peas) and pulling up elastic waistband pants has become a task in and of itself. Just the act of wriggling into pants these days leaves me winded. And, its not like I can bend far enough over to put my foot in normally...its like a crap shoot trying to wrangle a foot into straight-leg maternity pants.

Todd: "You're being so loud."

Me: Oh no you didn't. "Really? ....Really? Am I being as loud as you are the other 4 days a week when you get up at 3:30? And, PS its a lot quieter in the kitchen."

Todd: "What?"

Me: "Ya know, in the kitchen, where I usually am cooking your breakfast in the morning. Forget it - I'll have breakfast at my parent's house."

Todd: "But, I don't even shower in the morning."

Right. The stranger in my dream was right - I just don't get along with people! As I head into the kitchen even more irritated because there's a dirty pan on the stove and I SO swear in an OCD frenzy last night I was SURE I'd cleaned the entire kitchen, I realize the pan is full of warm, homemade blueberry oatmeal. And I know what you're thinking: Has she totally gone off the edge and started sleep-cooking too? No.

While I was in the shower, making all that noise, thinking horrible, angry thoughts and cursing the guy in my dream, my absolutely wonderful husband had gotten out of bed (on his day off, at 5:00am) and had cooked me breakfast and before I could even discover this, I had lit into him about how I would have cooked him breakfast even though not once this week have I even had enough energy to think about getting up with him. I AM AN ASS! It's true!

I am married to the most wonderful man in the world who would, on his day off, drag himself out of bed exhausted and actually cook me oatmeal and, who god knows how, still loves me even though I feel (and quite possibly am) 60 lbs overweight and feel like you can actually see the cellulite forming through my stretch pants. He's amazing! And probably oh-so-under-appreciated at this point. No other wife out there could possibly be as lucky as I am! And the oatmeal? Delicious!

Oh The Adventures of Childbirth Classes..

In yet another attempt to shorten this whole childbirth process we elected to take the one day, 3 hour express-version child birth class offered by my doctor's office rather than sit through 12 weeks of nightly torture. I mean, people have been doing this kid-having thing for thousands of years and I seriously doubt they had child prep classes when they hadn't yet invented fire. And, honestly, I don't want to watch that scary video of some strange lady giving birth when obviously it's too late for me to do anything about it now. I should have watched that video 10 months ago and we never would have been in this situation in the first place. I mean, come on, let's not drag this thing out. Tell me what I need to know, promise me this will be over soon, reassure about how badly its going to hurt, but promise me this will be over soon - and then send me on my way - don't prolong the experience any longer than need be.

So, I go into the class having four major questions:

1. Is it wrong to prep jello shots for the ride to the hospital? (Answer: probably - I didn't have the balls to actually ask that one - I used my own judgement.)

2. What can they give me to "take the edge off" once we get to the hospital? (Answer: Fentanyl. It's great.)
3. How long until I can get an epidural and how long does it last? (Answer: Whenever I think I've had enough labor pain. Hours and hours of numbness at the touch of a doctor's finger.)

4. What can they give me after the epidural. (Answer: The good stuff and lots of it.)

The other couples looked just like us.... the women were "Oh so done with being pregnant" and the guys were "Oh what did we get ourselves into?"

We covered the basics and asked questions, got our free tote bag and went on our merry way. We finished in 2.5 hours - perfect! And here's the top four things I took away:

1. 10cm is f*^%ing huge! Like, big enough to drive a toy train through. I still think the nurse whipped out that topography map of the cervix just to freak us out.

2. The frowny face on the poster depicting "active labor" does NO justice to the fatigue, anger, pain, sweat and tears shown on your real-life face.

3. The body's reaction to prostaglandin may or may not induce labor naturally and does not include oral consumption. Enough said.

4. Bring snacks. Apparently popsicles, soup and tea don't squash the appetite of a post-partum mom. Perfect - 'cause I already carry granola bars and juice in my purse!

And, although I learned this well before the actual class, I will say one of the most important pieces of advice came from my friend Amy: Don't forget the carseat-carry-thing. They won't let you take baby home without it. What, are the days of papooses and walking home gone? That's weird. I was thinking a 10 mile trek post baby was sounding pretty good....

Weekend Fun!

Our crazy-busy weekend wouldn't have been complete without a trip to Seattle for the Mariner's game on Sunday. Todd totally scored front row tickets right at the end of the Mariner's dugout! We even had a parking pass to a separate parking garage and access to the Terrace Club where there was tons of food and drink and, in my opinion most importantly, way nicer bathrooms.

Had I realized just how close we would be to the players I would have brought a pen to get some autographs. Alas, all we could do was enjoy the action. The first thing I realized and commented on was just how BIG the players are. Not big like blimpishly big, proportionally correct, just bigger. Except Ichiro. He's so cute and small. Well, probably average compared to the other monsters. I swear Saunders is 7 1/2 feet tall.

I liked being so close to the action and I'm sure Todd thoroughly enjoyed all the new friends he was making. And by friends I mean the players who, remarkably, when you are that close can AND DO talk back to you! Not like we'll have any of them over to dinner any time soon, but when Todd was wondering what Bedard's shoulder status was he just hollered down to him and asked him about it. (In case you're wondering he's out for the season.)

And when Beltre came off the field with a pop-out he had caught Todd hollered, "Hey Adrian, toss me the ball." and he did. We almost scored another ball later on when Tinsley (the first base coach) came off the field with one and Todd asked him to toss it up. He underhanded it and it landed 3 rows behind us and some lady stole off with it. He was probably only slightly offended when Todd yelled, "That's why you're a coach and not a player, huh?"

And when Todd suggested to Langerhans that he hit another homer like the one from the night before he shrugged and said, "We'll see."

I was in awe. You get a pretty good feel for it on TV, but in person is just so much more, well, in person. All in all the game was awesome. The seats were amazing, the bathrooms were clean (and carpeted!) with NO lines, the food was good, the players were so cool and with the parking pass we had we just walked from our seats across the sky bridge to our car and were let out immediately right onto I-5. A total success. And, oh yeah, they won too!

A ding to the old checking account, but still so much fun.

A Short List of Things That I Think Might Institutionalize Me....

1. I washed ALL the shoes in our closet. I mean, I took out the laces, scrubbed them by hand with OxyClean, ran them through the washing machine and dried them on the deck. We have (combined) 12 pairs of athletic shoes: 4 black, 1 brown, 2 grey and 5 white.

2. I organized the Tupperware drawer. I stacked the ones that nestle together, removed the ones that look worn and deteriorating and won't stack easily, threw out all mis-matched lids and then bought new Tupperware to compliment my size variations.

3. I ironed everything in our closet that has a collar. That includes polo shirts, dress shirts, maternity shirts, work shirts and shirts I don't even fit in to anymore. The pants are next.

4. I have, for the the second time in just as many weeks, gotten up with my husband at 3:30am and with extra time prepared that night's dinner. In fact, we're having enchiladas tonight.

5. I have baked every night this week. Muffins, scones, cakes, banana bread and zucchini bread. In fact, twice in the last two weeks I've brought freshly baked scones to work - with blueberries I picked from our own yard!

6. Yesterday before I even dropped my purse off inside or changed out of my work clothes I started organizing the garage. I moved all the garage sale stuff to one area, put all the screws and nails together, all the pipe wrenches in one area, dedicated an area to fencing supplies and implements, found all the end wrenches to complete the set we have, arranged all the plumbing supplies in easy to access boxes and lined up the screwdriver set smallest to tallest. Oh yeah - and I emptied the trash.

Tonight I'm going to run some wiring for lights and plug-ins in the barn and try to move the cow feed to a move central location. ...And all of this is possible because I already have dinner ready to pop in the oven! 350 degrees for half and hour!

A Million Reasons to Love the Dentist

Yes, its true. I'm one of those OCD, freakishly strange people who loves going to the dentist. One of those people who loves it so much it was like Christmas when I received the insurance notice that they would begin covering not just one, but two cleanings per year! I can hardly stand the anticipation the 6-month wait brings. I love the feeling of a freshly polished mouth and admittedly I floss a lot, but the thought of having someone else doing it for me is like euphoria!

I had one of my twice yearly checkups and polishings last month that sadly enough resulted in a chipped molar that would need a little repair before it became *gasp*: a cavity.

My afternoon dentist appointment was scheduled on one of the hotter days last week and after a long, tiring day at work I was more than relieved to take a sit down in one of those reclining chairs. I was all bibbed up, lying there enjoying the cool AC blowing on me, mentally listing my to-do activities and waiting for the Novocaine to kick in when I realized this was like heaven. This was me-time. There was no one to interrupt me, no work to be done, just a totally relaxing experience where I could let my mind run.

It wasn't until I was fitted with my dental dam and tooth isolator, totally oblivious to the world, watching the assistant and the dentist passing probes back and forth that I really started to zone off. He busted out the grinder - not the high pitched whirring one - rather, the slow grinding kinda buzz saw like one and I was a goner. The last thing I remember hearing was the grinder vibrating my head ever so slightly and it was so soothing.

Then I hear, "Rikki. Rikki?"

"Huh?"

"Can you open your mouth a little more? You're biting down on the tools."

That's right: I had been enjoying my filling SO much I was lulled to sleep by the tooth grinder; dental dam and all! Never had a quick nap felt so refreshing. I left with the inability to use the left side of my face, but feeling better than I had in days.

This makes me wonder a few things. First, is this normal? Secondly, should I get more sleep at night? Or maybe not work so hard during the day? And lastly, why would anyone fear the dentist if they had just one spin in my dentist's chair.

You'd think with all the trauma I experienced as a kid with my orthodontia I'd be scarred forever, but quite the opposite. It's amazingly wonderful...and, my next appointment is scheduled for January 2010.