Moxibustion

Posted by random olio

So Mini Conk is breech and has been for a few weeks. I now have a few weeks to get him turned for delivery (6.5 weeks away from my due date). My OB said that some of the regular techniques were not okay for me to do because of some health issues, and so she suggested we try a Chinese technique called moxibustion.

Moxibustion uses “moxa” sticks made of dried mugwort leaves, and is burned near your pinky toe. Here is an excerpt from a natural acupuncture website:

“Indirect moxibustion is a popular form of increasing the body’s natural flow of energy at a certain point. One end of a moxa stick, roughly the shape and size of a cigar, is lit and held close to the area being treated for several minutes. Administering Moxa opens up the uterus to make more room for the breech baby to turn. Combined with an acupuncture treatment, moxibustion helps to increase fetal movement, and the effect of gravity will encourage the heaviest part of the baby, the head, to enter the pelvis as it shifts its position.”

Over the weekend we found a Chinese acupuncture clinic that would sell us the moxa sticks and we have been trying. It is the strangest feeling. It is like fireworks are going off inside of me while also feeling like the bouncy castle for the baby growing inside me. He moves like crazy. We started on Sunday and from what I can tell by how he is laying inside of me he still has not turned, so we will continue on this path and hope there is enough room inside there for him to turn so he can embark on joining us as gracefully as possible.

Bae, bae, bae…

Posted by random olio

I am getting old. I kept seeing this word show up on social media #bae and yes, I had no idea what it meant. So of course I googled it:

“Bae,” Urban Dictionary says, is an acronym that stands for “before anyone else,” or a shortened version of baby or babe, another word for sweetie, and, mostly unrelated, poop in Danish. Jul 25, 2014

Okay. I get the “before anyone else” and I also actually love that it is also “poop” in Danish. How do these urban words start? This one is also in the name of a Pharrell Williams song: “Come Get It Bae.” I guess I missed that one when it came out. I tried to listen to it as I wrote this blog post and it did nothing for me. In the last year there have been articles from Esquire and Time, and many other online magazines asking the same question I am, only I am a year too late.

I am definitely getting old. I am not one to call Chris my baby or babe anyways, so maybe that is another reason it does not strike me, and yes I am no longer in my twenties. Over time I have come to the realization that I am a: “say-what-you-mean-in-a-direct-way” kind of woman. Just say it. Just like you mean it. No fluff. No shortened social media acronym. Why should I try to guess what you mean? Am I making myself any younger?

Maybe I will just resort to using it when I tell Chris “I need to bae, bae” aka: “I need to poop, babe.” Let him figure out what I mean. Ha.

Puppy Love

Posted by random olio

I used to be scared shitless of our dog, Ginger. I was young, and our German Shepherd was much larger than me and she would often jump up on me, was way taller, and well most of the time knocked me over. When I would leave my room in the morning I would yell out: “Is Ginger outside?” My family sometimes supported my fears and would say yes, and other times they would mess with me and think I was a complete baby, and tell me she was outside, only to be lovingly mauled by her. Ugh. How my family frustrated me. Rather than work with me on my fear, they teased me.

Somehow over time, and maybe just with growing taller, and more mature I got over my fear of Ginger. She was eventually hit by a car while delivering newspapers with my brother. We had many more dogs over the years. Some that tore up our house because they were afraid of thunderstorms, or jumped fences, and some chewed their own fur off. I never feared our large dogs after Ginger. We never had a “normal” dog. My father always brought home dogs that had been abused (thus their strange behaviors).

Fast forward to Chris and my time dating. He had a massive Great Dane, who had also been abused before Chris rescued her. While my dad and brother were great with our dogs, I never saw a connection between a dog and man before Chris and Belle. So when I saw this dog + baby video, I immediately showed him. His response: “That is ridiculous.” He could not stop laughing and smiling.

The baby continues to move closer and snuggle with the dog… What is not to ooh and ahh over?

Giggle ’til you pee your pants

Posted by random olio

Last night my sister made my day. See I love to hear my niece laugh. I tried quite often last weekend to get her to giggle, and I had my ways and succeeded, but not that deep gut laugh that continues and is impossible to stop. My sister knows how much I love a baby that giggles, and how happy it makes me. So, of course she texted me the most recent video. I cannot tell you how many times I have played it since she sent it.

Since Charlie’s birth my sister and I started a little informal tradition. Either I will text her: “POTD” (Photo of the Day) especially when I am having a rough day, or she will just text me a POTD without prompting. The video last night came with the text: “I think the element of surprise really got her. He was closing his eyes like he was asleep and then he would open them with a loud laugh.” I think we might have just ventured into VOTD (Video of the Day). No pressure Pen. Here is the video of Charlie:

If only we all lived our lives taking time each day to make others laugh. That would be an amazing shift for the world. If we all lived to make others laugh until you pee your pants, because you cannot stop giggling, well that would turn the world upside down. Stop what you are doing, let your shoulders drop, watch Charlie again and find a way to share a deep heartfelt laugh today. Or better yet, giggle until you pee your pants.

Happy Mother’s Day, Sis.

Posted by random olio

For many years after my mom was gone, my sister was like a mother to me. I loved and hated it about her. She is older, so it was natural for her to step in and be the older, wiser sister, and I often resisted it. We fought a lot, which often ended in tears. Yet we also laughed a lot, which also ended in tears. I did not want to be mothered, and yet we both in our own ways, wanted to be mothered. We wanted that connection of family. There were ebbs and flows of times when we yearned to have our own family. We always had different individuals in our lives that were an inspiration to us, maybe not mother types, but individuals (yes I did not say women, because mothering can come from a man too) who gave us the mothering that we needed.

Each year as Mother’s Day comes and goes I have to say it is a strange day for me. It has been 20 years since I saw my mom’s face, held her hand, or gave her a hug. I have lived more years of my life without her than I had with her. Some years are tougher than others. On years when my sister and I lived in the same city, we would often have a sister brunch on Mother’s Day. Other years, I just go about my day as though it is just any other Sunday in May.

This year, my sister became a mother. Sunday will be the first Mother’s Day for her as a mom. While Charlie is too young to dote on her mom, I hope my sister cherishes the day. I hope she remembers that while she has had extremely less sleep, and most likely not much of a life in the past few months, it has all been worth it. I know she will say it has been.

Love the hell out of that precious little baby. Enjoy every moment as a mom. I only wish our mom could be with you on your first Mother’s Day, she would love the crap out of, lil Charlie.

Happy Mother’s Day, Sis.