pediatrician visit

Mama Jamz, running late as she often occasionally is, gets dogs outside and watered, baby fed and bathed and in a fresh diaper, diaper bag stocked with bottles of formula and spare outfits and diapers and pacifiers and whatnot, tumbler of hot tea in the car, and is off to the doctah!, about 40 minutes away.

(Now, in my defense – I can hear you sniggering, Daddy J! – I’ve been doing a LOT better with the on-time-for-appointments thing lately.  Like, I’m USUALLY right on time for them.  REALLY.  Dinner dates and parties, on the other hand, are a completely different story.)

I would have just been 5-10 minutes late except that the doctor has moved to the new medical array of buildings and, even though I’ve been there once before, I didn’t know where I was going.   (Directions are NOT my strong suit.)  I ended up asking a UPS man which building my pediatrician’s group was in and arrived (according  to their clock) seventeen minutes late.

Receptionist: (having asked for our last name, sighs dramatically and looks at her watch) You’re about 15 minutes late.  Your appointment was at 10:45.

Mama Jamz: Yes, I’m sorry.  I couldn’t find the new building you all are in.

Receptionist: Well, I don’t know if the doctor can see you, but go ahead and sign in.  (Nurse approaches.)  She’s here, fifteen minutes late.

Nurse: Ordinarily, we cancel the appointments if you’re fifteen minutes late.

Receptionist: She said she couldn’t find the building.

Nurse: (irritated)  You should have called to let us know.

Mama Jamz: mulls over her options and their likely consequences.  She could

A. Tell those cows just how bitchy they are being, and how if she ONLY had to ever wait fifteen minutes to see the doctor, she’d be THRILLED, and that she’d eat her shoes if the doctor was sitting idly back there wasting his valuable time just waiting for her arrival, and that she’s had to drive forty frickin minutes to get there after getting a two month old ready to go and they COULD be compassionate and cut her some slack, or at the very least be less power-trippy about the whole thing, plus her frickin cell phone has been broken for the last week.

Which would likely result in

B. Said cows telling her that actually the doctor will be unable to see her

Which would likely result in

C. Mama Jamz losing her shit, using multiple examples of foul language, gathering up her stuff and storming off, and then having to find a new doctor who takes her insurance and would see Rainbow immediately, which makes her tired to just think about.

Mama Jamz: (avoiding eye contact) So.  Should I just go sit down?

Receptionist: (to Nurse) I guess you can just take her back there, and if he won’t see her, she’ll just have to leave.

Mama Jamz: turns and walks to a seat before she utters anything she might regret.  Waits five minutes to be called back.  Then waits ten minutes to be seen by the doctor, after he finishes up with the patient before her.  Works in one little jab to the nurse, which likely went unnoticed: when the nurse tells her to please wait in the little room for the doctor, she calls out (rather loudly) OH I DON’T MIND WAITING ONE BIT.

And for the record: Rainbow is indeed a hoss of a boy.  He weighs 15 lbs. 5 oz, which is what the doctor said is normal weight for a 4-5 month old.  He’s off the charts for weight, and is in the 90th percentile for height.  The doctor said that he will likely REALLY want to eat solid food in a month or so.  And also that he looks perfectly healthy and great.  🙂

we must have been glowing

I took Rainbow to Wal-mart yesterday.  It was a multi-purpose trip: pick up the frickin-frackin-portraits, pick up prints I’d ordered online, return some duplicate and too small baby items, and buy some stuff.

On the way in, an older middle-aged couple came over to admire a sleeping Rainbow as I was getting his carseat situated in the cart.  The husband asked if he was my first, and I said that he was actually my fourth.  He was incredulous and asked how old I was, and then just refused to believe I was 36.  He kept saying I couldn’t be older than 22.  It was GRRRREAT.

(Yes, I am Just That Easy to please, and Just That Vain.  I’m sure he must have been half-blind and/or just wanting to make me feel good, but it was still a delightful way to start Wal-marting.)

After steeling myself to deal with the obnoxious photographer, I went straight to the portrait studio to pick up the photos and learned that they were closed for the next hour.  Stupid portrait studio.

I got copies of the portraits Jennifer took and they are beautiful.  I’m going to try to write F and J today and send them several shots.  I picked up a few outdoor plants to pretty up the front of the house for visitors, seeing as it’s Daddy J’s TWENTIETH HIGH SCHOOL REUNION HOLY COW.

The fun thing, though, was how Rainbow drew adoration everywhere we went.  I mean, he always gets admired, but this was crazy.  Even though he was sleeping most of the time, grannies and mamas and kids kept coming up to the cart to smile and ogle him.  I found myself saying, over and over, Yes, I know!  He’s SO beautiful and cute and sweet. I know!  He’s a doll!  He’s a honey!  I’m enjoying him so much!  Thank you!

When we got out to the car, I started it to cool it down as I loaded stuff in and Toto’s Africa was playing.  Such a treat.  Ward loved that song.  I can see him bobbing his head in the rear view mirror as it played.  I was smiling like a loon and singing along.

Which made me think of the songs that are forever attached to people I love, to the extent that they are sacred to me.  I can’t hear these songs without thinking of the people they belong to and feeling good.  For the Fishmaster, it’s Emmylou Harris’s Ballad of Sally Rose album.  We used to two-step and waltz to it when he was just a little scooter, with that first baby all-inclusive adoration.  He would ask for Emmy-yoo! Emmy-yoo! when he got tired.  Rockinrolla loved (and still loves) Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk.

And it’s Peter Gabriel’s Only Us (particularly Don’t Give Up)that is forever Daddy J’s, because he sent it to me when I was abroad it Scotland and I listened to it, while missing him, over and over and over…

So, how about you?  What music is sacred to you, in that it is forever linked to someone you love?

the votes are in

and you ladies are pretty well anti the ol’ Botox. 

Thank you so much for responding!  I am still torn, frankly, although I’m not getting any in the immediate future.  I talked with a aesthetician RN the other day about it and I am not at all convinced it is Satan’s beauty treatment.  It seems, on the one hand, a lot less trouble than using fancy eye salves to get rid of wrinkles – it just prevents them from happening.  And wears off in 4-6 months, so if you hate it, it’s only temporary and you just never get it again.  The woman I talked to was older than me and had been doing it for a while (I guess) and I thought she looked great.

But! of course there’s the whole toxic-poison-in-your-face aspect, along with the weird looking smile thing that for sure shows up in some celebrity photos.

Anyway, thanks so much for voting!  Aren’t polls fun?  I was proud of myself for figuring out how to make one.  I predict there will be another in the not-too-distant future.


Rainbow is still just an adorable, chewy nugget of sweet perfection.  I had a great day yesterday, just giving myself permission to chill out with him and sing to him and make him smile and forget about house chores and thank you notes for a while.  He’s such a contented baby.

He goes for his 2 month appointment on Monday.  I can’t wait to see what our little tank weighs.  He’s pretty much fully in his 6-9 month clothes, although he can still wear some of his 3-6 month stuff.  And he’s a heavy (but cuddly!) load in the front pack.

I need to call our social worker, T, and see when she’s coming again.  I think it’s about time; I think she comes twice more before we finalize in June.  Last time I saw her, we talked some about F and I showed her pictures.  She got emotional thinking about what F is going through, too. 

(Note to self: start going to the adoption agency’s family events, like cookouts and stuff.  Do that!  I know you won’t know anyone, but Rainbow will appreciate it and it will be good for all of you.)

T had asked if the adoption had brought up any grief feelings, and I told her honestlythat it really hasn’t.  I’m just so happy and in love with him.  I miss Wardie, but I know he’s okay and he wants us to be happy.  I do, though, sometimes get very scared that something awful will happen to Rainbow.  If I give my mind free rein, it can think of horrors-upon-horros that all end in tragedy.

I have done better with the fears, though, the last couple of days.  I’ve been shutting up the fear monster with a couple of mantras: One Day at a Time and You’re brewing your own trouble, dumb ass. 

An endless stream of potential dangers (cars, stairs, poisons, chokies, strangers, bathtubs…) can seem overwhelming, but I can focus on keeping him safe one whole day at a time.  I can do that.  And I can tell my overly imaginative mind to SHUT THE HELL UP when it’s trying to scare me.  That works pretty well, too.

shower #4

(and yes, this would be the last of Rainbow’s showers.  We are well and truly spoiled.)

It was totally awesome. Rainbow’s godmother, C,  and the other five hosts outdid themselves.  It was at C’s lovely home, which was decorated in a green and yellow jungle motif, complete with crepe paper hung in swags on the ceiling and photos of Rainbow hither and yon.  Friend J crafted a long, twisty peanut butter snake cake and popcorn-in-cellophane snakes, and the other hostesses contributed delicious nibbles.  Godfather D was the kitchen wine pourer and general helper.  And the gifts for Rainbow showered down, thoughtful and sweet and extravagant.

Again, as I have been so many times in the past five years especially (what with the house burning, Ward transitioning and remembering him on anniversaries, and this whole adoption journey) I was reminded of how much I adore our community. 

It reminds me of a game that we played sometimes in high school and at church youth group events, where you stand in the middle of a circle of friends with your eyes closed, hands crossed in front of you, back held straight, and just fall.  You fall forward and back and sideways, eyes squinted shut, as hands around you catch and push you to other hands.  You can’t touch the ground because this circle of hands won’t let you fall.

It’s like that around here.  It’s wonderful.

Just thinking aloud here…

I guess I’m kind of feeling my age.

Or, more accurately, not feeling my age.  I feel about ten years younger, really, and am a little dismayed that my skin doesn’t care how old I feel.  It’s going to go right on ahead and age, year by year.

Which, YES, is fine, and what happens to everyone, and it’s not the AGING PROCESS that’s the problem, it’s the societal expectations that women should keep looking 25 years old their entire lives.

yadda yadda yadda…

Anyway, I’m not the only person aging around here, right?  And you all are smart and have opinions, and polls are FUN, right?

shower #3

was at the Fishmaster’s school.

It was scheduled to be at the instigating mama’s house, but she developed the flu, so the headmaster’s wife switched the location to her home.  (The school is pretty unusual in that the headmaster and his wife live in the midst of all the schoolbuildings on a farm.)

It was a book shower.  I had suggested that theme to the mama who’d offered to have it since our little baby books had burned up with the house in 2003.  We’ve replaced quite a few, of course, but since Ward was about 1 when the house burned and over 2 when we moved into the new house, we didn’t have the big baby book library that I like to have.

I was a little nervous since, even after almost two years of the Fishmaster’s attending the school, I don’t actually know that many of the mamas’ names.  It’s a super small school (about 50 kids grades 3-12) and I’ve only interacted with the other middle school mamas anyway.  Several of the primary and high school mamas very sweetly participated, but I had no idea what their names were.  I pulled the headmaster’s wife aside when I got there and explained my dilemma.  She was very helpful with pointing people out, although I was too nervous about remembering everyone’s name to actually remember everyone’s name.

It turned out to not be a terribly big deal, of course. 

The ladies had a spread of beautiful springy desserts (strawberry trifle with whipped cream so thick it was almost butter, REALLY good chocolate chip cookies, fruit, and the cutest baby shower dessert EVER: lemon cupcakes turned upside down, coated in glaze, and topped with white life savers and jelly beans glued with icing to look like pacifiers) so, um, guess what I had for a snack yesterday evening and for a huge breakfast this morning.  YUM YUM YUM.

G, the headmaster’s wife, read from some of her daughter’s favorite books, scriptural and otherwise, and had decorated with old, loved books on the table.  Rainbow was showered with board books, books with fun moving parts, biblical books, a special photo album, and beautiful picture books, many of which were inscribed by the giver.

AND the ladies had gone in together to give us the fancy jogger stroller I had registered for.  SCORE!!

Rainbow slept for most of the event, waking toward the end for a bottle and a round of Pass-the-baby.  Those mamas are so wholesome and pleasant, just like their kids.  (Have I mentioned how much I love the Fishmaster’s school??!) It was super-pleasant, chatty and warm and nice.

Also great was talking to other adoptive mothers about how their families were created.  One mama was adopted as an infant and said that she feels so positively about adoption that that was how she wanted to build her own family, so her kids are adopted.  It was refreshing to hear an adult adoptee talking about being so glad to be adopted.  I know that not all adult adoptees feel that way, but it was reassuring to hear from one who does.

photo shoot

Here are some sample pics from Jennifer’s photo session with Rainbow.

Do I even need to say how gorgeous I think this child is and how lucky we feel to have him and how grateful we are to Jennifer for sharing her talent and time with us?

VERY gorgeous, VERY lucky, VERY grateful…

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