Tell Me Thursday - Dova's Hot Leotard

This is the leotard that I bought for Dova during her gymnastics show this month. All year, she kept looking at the leotard rack at the gym and asking to buy one. Doug and I kept saying no because we knew she would be getting a uniform leotard for her show. The uniforms were pricey but quite snazzy looking and not very uniform-looking so I thought I was off the hook. But after the show, I was so enthralled by her performance, that I took her over to the rack myself and helped her pick out this leotard. She loves the pink shiny sparkles and the black velvet.

When she was getting dressed for the show, I commented on how cool her shiny swirly leotard looked.  I asked her whether she was going to where this in her ballet class this summer, where all the other girls would probably wear boring pale pink.

She replied, "Yeah, I'll be the hottest girl there!"

I choked back my laughter and Adam piped in, "What kind of hot?"

"Um.. ah... um... the warm kind. Yeah that's it, the warm kind."

It doesn't help that one of our nicknames for Dova is "hot little baby" since she is always hot, never wears a jacket, and kicks off her covers at night. But we really do mean the warm in this case!!  But I guess she is definitely growing out the baby title at 5 years old.






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P.S. I will be on vacation for the next week, so posting may be sporadic.

WW - Dova's New Leotard and Gap Tooth

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Come back tomorrow for the story behind this photo for Tell Me Thursday.

Tuesday Toot - Dova's Gymnastics Show

It's been a while for Tuesday Toot! Ever since the incident with Adam's soccer penalty shot, I've been gunshy about gushing over the kids. Over the weekend, Dova had her gymnastics show and I was quite surprised at how brilliantly she performed. Doug, the super chauffeur, had been taking her to classes all year while I was at work, so I never got to see how she has developed. When Adam was five, he took the same class and the show was more of a chore than anything. At that point, Dova was two and tried to claim all our attention. It was held in at the school gym as opposed to the gymnnastics gym, so Adam was too far away for good photographs. So when sat down for this show, my expectations were not that high. In her opening sequence, Dova immediately showed confidence and poise.



Although she was supposed to use her hands to help jump onto the vault, Dova nailed the springboard and landed squarely on her feet every time. She was the only girl or boy in the class to do this.



She was also the only girl who didn't even bobble on the balance beam, let alone step off. Such balance!



She also jumped right up onto the high bar by herself.



Really, check out her balance beam and high bar routine.



She's my champion!



I was so pleased with her performance that I even bought her a leotard from the rack that she's been coveting all year. She was even accepted early into the big girl's class for next season. I'm hoping that she learns how do a proper cartwheel. She's definitely going to excel at balance beam and vault. Special thanks to Doug for hauling her all year and taking the videos.


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PH - Creamy

I went to the archives for these ice cream shots. Dova was 2 and Adam was 7 above.



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I Do Not Have a Spreadsheet Problem

Hi everyone, you can find me over at MIT Mommy today for a guest post on hypermiling.  I originally had more screen shots of my car spreadsheets, but then I realized that people might think that I was a wee bit obsessive.  But on my own, blog, I have no issues parading my obsessive organization.  Here's what made the cutting room floor...

Ever since the days of Lotus 1-2-3 (for those that remember the DOS days), I have kept spreadsheets for every car that I've owned.  I track every tank of gas, and chart gas mileage, odometer miles per year, and most recently price per gallon.  Here a glimpse into my insanity.

When I first show people my spreadsheets, they look at me like I'm crazy.  Then I show all the cool things that I learn from them.  I know that our exceptionally green Toyota Echo gets 40-45 mpg, depending on the season (winter 40, summer 45), even at 157k miles.  When gas prices were around $2 per gallon, it costs 4.5 cents per mile in gas to drive.  However, my all wheel drive BMW 325xiT gets 23-27 mpg, but including the extra cost of premium gas, it costs 8 cents per mile, nearly double!  With this price per mile information, I can accurately predict how much a trip will cost in gas money depending on the car.  Going 200 miles?  $9 for the Echo and $16 for the BMW.  Since these cars do not hugely differ in capacity, that is the difference in cost for performance, comfort and vanity.  I also track service costs in another tab as well, but haven't made the calculations for true cost per mile (mostly because it would be embarrassingly higher for my beloved BMW).  The chart also lets me know if there is a problem with my car.



You can see the seasonal ups and downs for gas mileage. The plus symbols are the actual fill-ups (240 since I've owned this car) and the pink line is the running average of the last four fill-ups.  Right around October of 2005, there was an unusual dip.  This is where my brake calipers were dragging and needed to be replaced.  The spreadsheet clued me in before I could feel the difference in driving.

Another cool chart is the odometer mileage per year, which is an automatically updating column in my spreadsheet.  Here's the chart for the Toyota Echo.



You can see that when Doug used this car in 2004 and 2005 for his 94 mile round trip commute, we nearly hit 24k miles per year.  Long trips show up as a slight increase in slope.  Even though Doug only uses this car nowadays to chauffeur the kids around, we still use it on most road trips because of the price per mile advantage stuck in our heads.  This chart is a map of the history of the car (here I am reminiscing over a spreadsheet).

Some people think that I spend way too much time with my spreadsheets (I have another for expenses).  But for the cars, it is really not much work since they are set up and update automatically.  For every fill-up, I jot down the the odometer reading on the receipt.  When I get home, I enter the date, gas brand, odometer reading, gallons, and price per gallon.  The rest is spreadsheet magic.  Even Doug is completely onboard for recording the mileage for his cars and motorcycles (I've done some good brainwashing, eh?).

When gas prices skyrocketed last year, I realized that I could create my own chart of gas prices because I had years of data!  Here is the price per gallon for regular gas in New England over the past 8 years.



From this chart, you can see that in December 2008, gas prices returned to their lowest levels since 2003, but they are creeping back up again. Of course this does nothing to stop the prices, but at least I'm watching them.  Obsessively.

Tell Me Thursday - Doug's 50th Birthday

I wish I knew the secret behind Doug's non-graying hair! It is incredible that he has no gray at all (unlike his wife). And what a nice haircut too (courtesy of his wife). But enough of his perfect hair and on to his 50th birthday celebration...

For the last few months, I have been worrying about what sort of party to throw for Doug. We usually host birthday parties at home, where I stress out over the preparations, run around being hostess, and slave over the grill. The weather has also not cooperated in the last few years, it has been either deathly hot (high 90's F) or torrential downpours. I can't say which is worse when it comes to grilling. And I've heard of other 50th birthday celebrations that included a clam bake on the beach, a DVD chronicling 50 years of life, and other overly ambitious exploits (not that I'm competitive or anything). So I finally put aside all my preconceptions and decided to go to a restaurant for the celebration. We chose Legal Seafood at the Burlington Mall (for those of you in Massachusetts).

The food was much better than anything I could prepare (OK, I do grill an awesome salmon) and the atmosphere was festive, especially with the Over the Hill sign that Doug's cousin put up. I was relaxed because I didn't have to worry about serving everyone and there was no cleanup!! OK, now I sound like I just threw my kid a birthday party at McDonald's, but really, it was fabulous.



The one thing I was concerned about was the photography. I am a natural light person and cannot for the life of me get my Speedlite flash to work to my advantage. But thankfully, our friend George (who took the photograph of us above) came to the rescue and showed me how to set the camera in manual mode (ISO 400, 1/125 sec, F11) with the diffuser on the flash set at 45 degrees. It did automagically fill in the light according to the distance of the subject. It even filled in 12 feet down the table!



Of course, the kids were horsing around as usual.



So I finally gave Dova my iPhone to occupy her.



And who can resist this piece of lobster?



That look on Dova's face just cracks me up. She wouldn't try it.

And there's a story behind the "50" candle as well. The number 5 made its first debut on Adam's fifth birthday:



It kept falling down on Dova's fifth birthday:



And it made another appearance on Doug's 50th birthday:



Some people may find this candle reuse tacky, but I call it incredibly cheap resourceful. Let's see how many years I can get out if it!

I'm glad the birthday celebration turned out well and would go back to that restaurant in a heartbeat. But I'm in no rush to get to 50!


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WW - Happy 50th Birthday Doug!

Doug, you look fantastic!! I'm so proud to be your wife.

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Come back tomorrow for the story behind these photos on Tell Me Thursday.

Silly Monkey Story - A Tangle of Arms and Legs

Ever since Adam was little, he loved to show affection by wrestling or pig piling on you. Most of the time this is fun, but sometimes it is annoying when you're just trying to get a nice, quiet snuggle in the morning. He knows he can wrestle with one Grandma (my mom), but not the other. And since Dova is no longer a baby, she is usually a willing target as well. Just look at that happy boy face!



I think they are trying a new yoga pose here.  Either that, or Dova is just trying to stop Adam from kicking her in the face!


Hosted by Karen at 3 Garnets and 2 Sapphires.

Baby Week on Discovery Health - Adam's Birth Story

Next week is Baby Week on Discovery Health.  Behind every baby is an unbelievable story. This is so true. Every birth story is remarkable in its own way. Even though it would seem that my births were straightforward vaginal deliveries, the fact that my first baby was nine pounds, eight ounces was a surprise and a tremendous effort. Check out this preview video and more amazing birth stories on TV for Baby Week on Discovery Health Sunday-Friday, June 14-19 at 8P ET/PT.  Can you imagine not knowing that you're pregnant until you have labor?  Or not knowing that you are having twins?  I gotta check out these shows.  Also check out the other BlogHer birth stories featured on Discovery Health.

Now for Adam's story...



It was completely by luck that my husband Doug took this photograph of my insanely huge belly the night before Adam was born.  Just looking at my tired face and painful red stretch marks reminds me that I'm done having children!  I hadn't previously posted this photo on the Internet, because I was too embarrassed.  Certainly not your picture perfect pregnancy.  But then I thought that people might actually be interested in what a nine pound, eight ounce baby looks like before they are born.  Of course I didn't know this going into labor, all indications pointed to a normal-sized baby.  My weight gain, measurements and blood sugar readings were within the normal range throughout the pregnancy.

Adam was due on November 3rd, 2000.  During my last OB visit a week before on October 27th, I was 2 cm dilated and my doctor asked me, "When do you want to have this baby?"

I asked, "I get to decide?"

"Yes, you decide.  It's all up here," he replied pointing to his head.

Both Doug and I felt that Halloween would not be a good birthday (Adam begs to differ).  Then I decided that November 1st would be a good date, easy to remember.  At this point, I was still working full time despite my swollen ankles and huge waddle.  Instead of taking any time off before the birth, I wanted to maximize my time off after the birth.  On October 31st, I apparently did not seriously heed my decision to have the baby on November 1st, so I failed to check in my software code before leaving work.

At 2am that night, I awoke to contractions.  I watched the clock to see how far apart they were.  At first it was 6-8 minutes, and by 2:30am, it was 5 and then 4 minutes.  At this point, I woke up Doug and spoke those clichéd words, "It's time."  Apparently, this did not provoke panic and a mad rush to the hospital since first labors usually take a while.  Doug simply got up and took a shower.  I was kind of like, "What the heck?  I'm in labor and you're taking a shower?"  But it proved to be a wise choice given the day and night to follow.

We packed "the bag" and put extra towels on the car seat in case my water broke on the way.  By 4:30am, we headed out into the eerily quiet night.  I remember thinking - is this real or is this the Twilight Zone?  And, we don't have a name for the baby yet!  The hospital didn't even look awake, but they took us in after we pressed the intercom, just like they said they would during our birthing classes.

The nurse checked me and found that I was 4 cm dilated.  She asked what I was during my last check up and decided, "OK, we'll take you."  I thought, "What!! You were going to turn me away while I'm in labor??"  My contractions were consistently 3-4 minutes apart.  Hmmph!

By 8am, there was not much progress, so the doctor decided to break my water.  It took a couple of nicks, but finally there was a flood of amniotic fluid that splashed on the floor despite all the pads that were put in place.  I was shocked at the amount of water that came out!  After that, the contractions were decidedly more painful, but I could still tough them out.  My mother had a completely natural childbirth with me, but it lasted 24 hours and required forceps.  I wasn't necessarily opposed to drugs, but I wanted to go as long as I could without them.  A girlfriend told me to tattoo "epidural" on my forehead so that I could still point to it if I couldn't speak.

The next 8 hours went by in a blur.  They wanted to put me on pitocin to speed up my dilation, so a nurse made a big production about putting the IV in.  She brought over warm wet towels and jabbed the top of my hand for a good 10 minutes before getting it in.  It still hurt after she put it in, but not nearly as much as the contractions, so I didn't complain.  I made my calls to work, family and friends and tried to forget that I stupidly failed to check in my code the day before.  We tried to get some rest during this time, so the shades were drawn and the room was dark.

Another nursing shift started and my new nurse was much more engaged and competent.  She took one look at my IV and said it looked all wrong.  She yanked it out and put in a new one in less than one minute.  And it finally stopped hurting!  Fantastic.  She also wanted me to try different positions to help the labor along, or try taking a shower or a bath.  I wanted none of that, I just wanted to lie on my back and rest between contractions.  She was fine with that and didn't push me beyond my comfort zone.

At noontime, I agreed to have some Numorphan, the first step in drug relief.  It was not long afterwards, that I woke up needing to throw up.  And then I threw up again an hour later.  And again after that.  By 5pm, it was do or die time for the epidural block, so I finally agreed.  I can honestly say, that my most painful wait in my life is the time between deciding to have the epidural and the time the anesthesiologist shows up.  At this point, you have given up on the fact that you can withstand the pain, and the contractions are that much more unbearable.

The epidural block did not provide the instant relief that I was expecting.  Sure things felt numb, but pain of the contractions still came right through.  The doctor explained that it was the pressure, and not the pain that I was feeling.  Pressure, pain, either way, the contractions were still quite intense.  My anesthetic dosage was adjusted and finally by the time I was fully dilated, I could finally say that the pain was gone.  The pressure was still strong, but it was dull.

At 8pm, 18 hours after my labor started, I was finally ready to push.  I remember that a girlfriend told me that you need to push like you're making the biggest dump of your life.  So I pushed like hell.  The first hour of pushing didn't amount to much; changing positions didn't help either.  And I was still throwing up during this process.  The baby was also not quite rotated to the right position.

During the second hour of pushing, my doctor said, "You know, this is a really big baby, eight or nine pounds.  You're going to have to think about a cesarean."  Eight or nine pounds, really???  No one told me this!!  And cesarean?  Heck, I've been through 20 hours of labor and you want me to recover from that and a C-section?  No thank you.

By the third hour of pushing, I definitely could not speak anymore.  The doctor asked a few more times whether I wanted a C-section before the baby crowned, but I must have shaken my head no.  I don't remember replying yes or no, but Doug said that I emphatically did not want it. The vitals for both the baby and me were fine.  I was completely exhausted, but I was determined to GET. THAT. BABY. OUT.  I did actually sleep between contractions, just like they show in the videos.  And in between sleeping, I was throwing up.  I was really thirsty and the the nurses offered me water or ice chips, but I knew that it would just make me throw up more.  By the time the baby head started to show, they asked whether I wanted to see in a mirror.  No thank you ma'am!!  I couldn't even watch the birth videos during the birthing classes let alone my own va-jay-jay being stretched to ungodly proportions.  Doug was thankfully not as squeamish and watched the whole thing unfold.

By the end, I had an entire cheering squad of doctors and nurses including the anesthesiologist.  And finally, after nearly three hours, the baby's head crowned.  Before his head came out, I was given an episiotomy, which thankfully I had no idea.  I pushed and pushed and pushed until his head came out.  I pushed and pushed and pushed some more, but his body was definitely stuck.  Finally his shoulder peeked out and the doctor reached under his arm and pulled the rest of his body out.  It was 10:46pm on November 1st, nearly 21 hours of labor with 3 hours of pushing.  Unfortunately, I incurred a large tear with that last pull, but what a relief when he finally came out.  Whew!  (Just writing this story gives me the cramps).  The doctors offered Doug to cut the umbilical cord and  he asked, "Do I need gloves or anything?"

When they weighed him, we were shocked that he came it at nine pounds, eight ounces.  And he measured 22 inches long!  Not a fat baby, just huge all around, perfectly proportioned at 95th percentile height and weight.  He was definitely cooked enough.  When they first put him on my chest, I was surprised at how heavy he was.  My first thought was that he looked just like my father.  I was so relieved that the birth was over, I figured that I could finally have something to drink, so I asked for some ice chips.  But my body wasn't quite ready and after 15 minutes, I threw up again.  I lost count of how many times I threw up in total, it was around 8 or 9 times.

The first time they propped me up to nurse my baby, I felt wow, this is a weird sensation and then I felt faint.  They quickly whisked him away and laid me back down.  My blood pressure was around 80/40, but they felt it was fine.  I felt like I was barely alive.  At this point, the delivery nurse (3rd shift by this point), told me that she had been delivering babies for 22 years and she has never seen the incredible determination that I showed that night.  Never once did I complain or show any signs of giving up.  She was extremely impressed that I delivered that sized baby as my first.  I was thinking, "What?  Not all first deliveries are like this?"  Apparently I had braced myself for the worst and made it through with flying colors.



The next day, I felt much better, but I still felt quite weak trying to walk around.  My delivery was indeed difficult, but I was thankful that I didn't have to contend with the recovery for a cesarean as well.  And of course I forgot enough of the experience to have a second child.

[Author's note:  You know that I've finally embraced "mommyblogging" when I post a birth story...  I may even try to get Dova's birth story up for the "Labor Day" meme]

Tell Me Thursday - Pizza in Brooklyn

Alas, I am not a nosy mom and whatever secrets Dova whispered to my mom will stay between them. I'm fairly certain that it was nothing earth-shattering! But I will tell the story about how we happened upon the best pizza place where this photo was taken.

After the wedding we attended, we were supposed to join the new couple for brunch the next day at Prospect Park in Brooklyn, NY.  After wandering around for a while, we never met up with them. I was pretty hot and cranky and didn't even take my camera out. Here is cranky Angela taken by her mom.



It was 2pm by the time we gave up and we had to find a place to eat. I checked my iPhone and found that most of the restaurants were located on 7th Avenue, a few blocks down Union Street.  When we turned down 7th Avenue, there were two immediate choices, an Indian restaurant with tablecloths or a local pizza place.  The kids were starving, so we opted for the pizza. I told Doug, "You can't go wrong with pizza in New York."  Since I grew up in New York, I know that for a fact.  It was the harshest thing about moving to Massachusetts; all the pizza here is BAD.  OK, some of it is passable, but the majority of the greek pizza here has no resemblance to the New York kind.

We ordered a large pepperoni and spinach pizza and figured we could order more if we were still hungry. When it arrived, it was huge!



As I was setting up the slices for the kids, my mom exclaimed, "This is the best pizza I've ever had in my life!"

And then Doug, with a mouthful of pizza, nodded vigorously in agreement.  I finally sat down and sunk my teeth into a perfect thin crust, fresh tomato sauce, sauteed spinach with lots of garlic, pepperoni and stringy mozarella cheese.  It was sublime!

This huge pizza fed all five of us and we even had a slice leftover.  We fed our entire family plus Grandma for only $20!! We thanked the chefs and told them it was delicious.  They just nodded as though they heard it all the time.  I later checked the other Indian restaurant on Google maps and it only got 2 stars.  So this pizza place was an excellent choice all around.  It made the trip into the city worthwhile, although we were stuck in unbelievable traffic on the way home.

Now Doug finally understands that pizza in New York is totally different from what is passed off as pizza in Massachusetts.  If you're ever in Brooklyn, NY, visit Roma Pizza at 85 7th Ave.  You won't be disappointed!




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A Boy and his Cheerios

Ever since we first gave Adam Cheerios as a baby, he has been completely addicted to them. And not the Cheerios brand, but only Joe's O's from Trader Joe's. I will admit they are crunchier and tastier. When he was a baby, I marveled at the fact that he had the dexterity to pick them up with his fingers at six months. In this photo, he would rather eat Cheerios on his first birthday than his cake discarded to the side of his high chair tray.



Over the years, he continued eating them by grabbing them with his hands. No milk, no spoon. Here, he is eating them on his 4th birthday.



He still eats them like when he was a baby and he is now 8 years old! At this point, we buy 5 boxes every two weeks for him. No one else in our family eats them either. (OK I steal a few handfuls now and then).



When he eats them by the handful, inevitably a bunch of O's escape. And sometimes, we get Cheerios explosions.



Every day we have to hound him to sweep up his Cheerios. Because you know what the worst sound is? Crunching a Cheerio under your feet when you've just woken up and wandered into the kitchen. Everyday, he used to whine about sweeping up and he always missed a few. But now we have the Vroom to the rescue!



Although, he sometimes would rather play with it like he's wrestling a snake.





What is this device you ask? Check out my full review of the Vroom on contest bytes.

WW - Dova Tells Grandma a Secret

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Silly Monkey Story - Kung Fu Adam

We spent a day in Brooklyn, NY and Adam loved jumping off the walls of the beautiful brownstones on Union Street. I attribute it to watching Kung Fu Panda multiple times in the car during this trip.


Hosted by Karen at 3 Garnets and 2 Sapphires.