Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Do Good

Just a quick post to say check this out: Spiritual Gifts Test 

This is a link to a site where you can go and take a quiz and find out what your natural spiritual gifts are, so that you can be a more effective member/leader of your church/community.

Apparently I am an Exhorter and an Administrator. Here's my write-up:

Your two highest gifts:

EXHORTER: That special ability to find and communicate to others practical ways of serving God. The exhorter is a positive motivator, knowing practical Christianity will change the lives of others (Rom. 12:8; I Timothy. 4:13; Heb. 10:25).

ADMINISTRATOR: That special ability to manage human, financial, and physical resources in an efficient manner. The administrator functions by planning, organizing, leading and supervising (Rom. 12:8; I Cor. 12:28; Titus 1:5).

Do y'all think that sounds like me? I know the administrator is RIGHT on, at least. As far as the exhorter, I would consider it a HUGE compliment if someone thought I was a positive motivator. And I do think that practical Christianity can change your life! 

Now go find out what you are! 

Anyway, I hope everyone is having a happy week! This is my first five day work week since before Christmas (I am having person pity party because I know that's actually AWESOME), so by Friday afternoon I am going to be toast. Dear Team, if you are reading this, I apologize for and also do not take any responsibility for anything I might do or say on Friday after 12:30pm. Love, Megan. 

P.S. Speaking of work, I couldn't resist: 

Is this picture ironic when juxtaposed with the rest of my post? Maybe. I love Jesus, but I am also human :)





Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Tonight I'm Super Sentimental: Parker's Birth Story

I knew I had to go to sleep. I had a doctor’s appointment in the morning to figure out just why my little boy had decided to stay inside for 41 weeks. But it was the night of the Redskins-Cowboys game, and Chad was glued to the TV. So I stayed up late arguing with him. What were we arguing about? It was really important then, but somehow now I don’t remember.

I fell into a deep sleep before the game was over.

All of a sudden, in the midst of my slumber, I felt an internal POP and awoke to warm water flowing between my legs. I looked at the clock. It was 5:45am.

“Chad…” I said to my heavy sleeper, “Chad. Wake up. I think my water broke.”

My body is already welling with anxiety and elation and relief.

He mumbles, “Five more minutes,” and rolls over.

I tug on his shoulder, “If you wait five more minutes you will be swimming. Wake up, call the doctor, I have to get in the shower.” 

So Chad gets (jumps) up and throws our wet sheets into an ungracious pile next to our washer and dryer, and I vainly jump in the shower.  I will NOT show up at the hospital to labor with prickly legs, I tell myself. Also, I need to touch up my toenail polish.

I remember clearly being in the shower, struggling to bend to shave my legs, and feeling those first uncomfortable pulls, the beginnings of contractions. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I almost didn’t realize Chad with his head and hand (that clutched the telephone) halfway in the shower.

“It’s the doctor. He wants to talk to you.”

I have a short conversation with Dr. Montgomery, in which I tell him that my water broke and I am starting to feel small contractions, and he suggests that we go to the hospital. So I quickly hang up, get out of the shower, dress in comfortable clothes, blow-dry my hair (ah, the vanity), do a final check of the hospital bag, and we walk out the door.  I took one final look around as we left and thought, this is it, it’s not just us anymore.

We got to the hospital and I was admitted at 7am. I remember walking in the doors with an undeniable smile on my face, not scared, just ready. I was so ready to meet him. A security guard took one look at me and said, “I bet I know where you’re headed. Good luck, ma’am.”

I got into my room and the nurse insisted on testing to make sure the fluid I was leaking was amniotic fluid. I wanted to tell her that I knew my own body, that I was pretty sure, but I let her confirm what I already knew. She walked out of the room. I looked at Chad. He told me we were two hours in. At that moment, time meant absolutely nothing to me. I was so focused on my body and the movements it was making and the feelings I was feeling, I could think of little else.

The nurses switched shifts. A new nurse came in. My contractions were starting to get uncomfortable. She told me to go for a walk. I tried to walk, I really did. I made it half a lap around the maternity ward and then I had to rest up against a wall.

My mother-in-law got there. It was the last day of her vacation. She told me, “I just knew he would come before I had to go back to work. He wanted to see his Mimi.”

I finally saw the doctor for the first time. She did a short (painful) exam and told me that I was barely dilated.

My nurse came back in to check on me. “Want to try something?” she asked me. I told her I would try anything. We tried the birthing ball. Extremely painful. Which is a shame because I really wanted to use it. I had heard of friends who went from 1 – 10 centimeters in an hour because of the birthing ball. I was all. about. The birthing ball. But I couldn’t do it. I just sat. The nurse said to move my hips in a circle. I tried. I thought I was circling. I wasn’t. So she massaged my lower back and pushed my hips in circles while I moaned in pain. This wasn’t working.

“Want to try the tub?” You bet I did. But the tub was broken. And I was broken up. This was the first time that I cried. It was hour six. (Turns out, she called maintenance, so a poor unassuming maintenance man had to listen to me labor while he fixed my tub. But God bless that maintenance man, he got my tub to work!).

Finally, the tub. It was warm and swirling. I was starting to feel more and more pain. The nurse brought me something and injected it into my IV. I immediately felt more calm.  I was just starting to relax. Chad brought in the birthing ball and sat by my side and held my hand. Then a strong contraction hit. He couldn’t stand to see me in that much pain. He leaned over and threw up. I found myself more concerned about him than myself, and for a moment almost forgot I was in labor.

I sat a while longer. My mom got there. She was glowing with nerves and happiness. It was the first time in my whole pregnancy that she really looked happy. The way she looked at me said It’s time. He’s almost here. He wants to come and see his Nana.

I got out of the bath, anxious to see how much I had progressed. The doctor came in to check me. 3 centimeters. Bummer. She says she will be back in a little while, that she’s going to let me try to dilate a little more before we talk about an epidural. So I labor. And I labor. And I get up and try to walk, even though it hurts. I try the ball again. I stretch and lay my upper body across the bed, trying to relieve some of the pressure that keeps building in my back. After two more hours, she comes back. She said we were going to go ahead and do the epidural, even though I hadn’t dilated any further. This was a bad sign, I just knew it. It was hour nine.

The epidural was, to say the least, amazing. I knew I had a huge baby inside me making my whole body pulse and shake, and within minutes of that long tube going inside my back, I could feel nothing. Looking back, that is terrifying. In that moment, it was bliss. I asked the nurse for a club soda and promptly fell asleep. (I slept through hours 10 and 11)

When I finally woke, it was late afternoon. Miss Teri, my second mom, and her husband had arrived while I was sleeping. Everyone was in the waiting room eating steak and cheeses. I tried to eat some Jell-O. I promptly threw it up.  I waited anxiously for my next check-up. 5 centimeters. Bummer.

There were now 10 people in my room. It was almost like a small party. Everyone was so excited, and you could feel the nervous energy in the room. That’s when the hot spots hit. I called the nurse because all of a sudden, I felt a sharp pain at the bottom of my (huge) belly. She told me I shouldn’t feel anything there. She called the anesthesiologist.

The anesthesiologist, in thickly framed glasses and tube socks, rushed in and began poking at my belly. “Can you feel this? What about this? How about here?” Every time I answered, he would shake his head, and look down and scribble something on his pad of paper. Then as suddenly as he came he left, and then reappeared with a syringe full of something he promised would make me feel much better. His bedside manner was… lacking. But his drugs sure were good. It was hour 16.

From there the pain just got stronger, and the contractions just got worse. Miss Teri sat next to me and told me stories and held my hand and warned me when contractions were coming, for what seemed like hours. She brushed my sweaty hair off my face and whispered what a wonderful blessing this baby was going to be. She told me how much she loved me and how she knew I could be strong. For a while, in the midst of the most pain I’ve ever known, I was in a strange place of complete peace and quiet, even though the party raged on around me. Chad was glued to the football game – the only double header of the season. He checked on me at commercials.

The nurses switched shifts again at 11pm, and so did the doctors. I was praying the next doctor who came in wouldn’t be the peppy, cheerleader OB that I had decided was not the one for me early on in my pregnancy. And wouldn’t you know it, guess who bounced in at hour 19? She told me I needed to be prepared for the fact that, since I had been in labor for so long, that this baby might just not come out naturally. She said we would give it another hour and then talk about a C-section.

Well that was just not happening. I had a talk with my little boy, and God. I know you will come when it is right, and I know You know what you are doing. Please please please…

One hour later, we were at 10 centimeters. The nurses taught me how to push. Breathe in, then push for 10 full seconds and don’t give up. I made great progress. I was a woman on a mission. I wanted to hold him so badly.

I pushed and rested (but mostly pushed) for the next 40 minutes, with Chad on one side and my mom on the other. Finally they said I was close. The nurse ran to get the doctor. She came in with no time to spare. I wish I could say more about the very end of labor, but I was so supremely focused and full of birthing energy that I honestly don’t remember. All I do recall is hearing my mother-in-law say, “Oh my goodness,” in awe and feeling a hot, searing pain. I yelled, “That hurts like you can’t even imagine, you have to get it out.”

And seconds later, I saw him. He was purple and puffy and beautiful. They placed him on my chest and my eyes welled up with tears, as they are welling up now just remembering how emotional that moment was. I felt him breathe. I counted his fingers and toes. I kissed his head a thousand times. It was hour 21, and my miracle was here. 9 pounds and 7 ounces of love and joy. My amazing love, my whole life, my Parker James. 

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

"Just do your job!" (And other things I say at least 10 times a day)


For one day every year, and preferably on the same day, it would be really great if everyone could just do their respective jobs like they are supposed to.  That would be SO GREAT.

Unfortunately, since such a day does not exist, and because you have to BEG people to JUST DO THEIR JOBS, here are a few of the things I’ve had to deal with in the past week:    

  • No, Unnamed Mortgage Lender, I can’t get you that piece of paperwork – because you ALREADY HAVE IT. I gave it to you last week. Along with the rest of my life on paper. Secrets between this guy and I? We have none.
  • No, Unnamed Creditor, I do not owe you $6000 dollars for a Suzuki crotch rocket. In fact, I have never even been on a “donor”cycle, let alone owned one. Nice try.
  • No, Unnamed Landlady, I can’t “just wait a few more days” for you to come fix my nonexistent water pressure. I have a booger-laden toddler that requires a bath.  
  • No, Unnamed Dentist’s Incompetent Biller, I will not pay $140 for my yearly cleaning because you submitted the claim to my old insurance policy when you literally had a copy of my new insurance policy in your hand.
  • No, Unnamed Husband, I cannot take the trash out. I have a cold. And I am the woman in this relationship. I do not take out the trash.

Seriously, y’all? Seriously?

So because someone(s) couldn’t be bothered to do the job they get paid to do, I now have to make 6 phone calls, 5 photocopies, 4 emails, 3 trips to my mother-in-law’s house to take a freaking shower, 2 drives to Dunkin Donuts to eat my feelings, and 1 giant fight with my husband (mainly because I’m stressed out about other things)? Le help. I need my mommy. And a pedicure.

Someone send me some positive, patient energy, if you have any to spare.

I am a woman on the edge of telling somebody what’s up. 

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Two Girls One Earthship

I don't want to go into too much (might get me into trouble) detail, but y'all, I am having a great time at my new job! I am doing something interesting, for goodness sake! I am so thankful for a fun and challenging work-life after almost a year of "Thank you for calling CrapityCrap, this is Megan speaking, how may I help you vent your anger and frustration at a member of the public who also happens to be able to make decisions about YOUR MONEY?" (Ok, maybe the phone verbiage was a liiiiittle different than that). Not bitter. Not bitter at all.

Anyway, moving along, another perk of my new job is that THERE ARE PEOPLE THERE I CAN RELATE TO. Case in point: the first day, I sat down in the lobby to wait for the HR people to come get us, and there was a girl sitting across from me with not one, but two mugs of coffee. Brain says: We are going to be friends. Then I noticed her cool, semi-hipster style. Then I noticed her gorgeous wedding band/engagement ring set. Wait. Hold the presses. There are other young married people out there?! Turns out... this girl and I are on the same team! Not only the same team, we sit next to each other in our small country of cubicles. Not only cube-mates, but we quickly discover that we are baaaaasically the same person, and just as speedily develop a reputation as "The Social Butterflies" of our training group (Good or bad? Don't know yet. Ask me after my first review.) and begin referring to each other as "my work wife" (And our poor husbands just shake their heads. "Aren't you supposed to have a work husband?" "No. No. No. You just don't understand.").

Sooooo that whole huge, long introduction was a way of introducing this HILARIOUS episode from today:

As part of our new position, all of us have to take Building Construction Training, which is essentially learning about all different types of home construction (and all the issues the types of construction can cause) and all the different systems found within your average (and not-so-average) home. So, if you will, imagine (without laughing) little old me, Miss English Major, Miss I-have-an-unhealthy-obsession-with-Shakespeare, learning to speak with authority (ha) about soffits and crickets and geodesic domes (Excuse me? Exactly.).

Most days, Work Wife and I end up having a completely serious conversation about something that anyone with an ounce of construction/handyman sense would find ridiculous.

Example: "I have to ask my husband later if our roof has vents. Do all roofs have vents? Is that only in older homes? I think it's only in older homes."

Another example:  "I don't want to watch this video about sewer systems. I know they are talking about poop. All of the examples involve something brown and watery."

And then there's today. Today we were learning about non-conventional construction and we came across the Earthship.  For those of you who have never heard of this type of structure... rest assured, you are in the majority. If you feel the need to be educated, go here: http://earthship.com/. If not, here is a photo:

These homes are made out of recycled tires! They are super eco-friendly and weird.
Anyway, let's just say that it had been a long day, and we were all a little tired and punch drunk. Here is the glorious conversation that ensued (via our office messenger):

    WW‎‎ [4:04 PM]:
i want an earthshit
earthship. finger slip!!!!!!!!!!!
‎‎Me [4:04 PM]:
not too far from the truth
actually
‎‎Me‎‎ [4:05 PM]:
do you know how far the P and the T are from each other on the keyboard?!
‎‎WW‎‎ [4:05 PM]:
i know!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And that, folks, is just another day at the office.


   

Thursday, January 5, 2012

100 Things to Eat Before You Die

If you haven't already noticed from the wine reviews and the snotty comments about Champagne, I am somewhat of a foodie! I love eating new things and trying different regional specialties (remind me sometime to tell you all about my rude introduction to Country Ham, courtesy of my sweet MIL). So to make a long story short... Actually, why make it short? Here's the long: I was Facebook stalking a guy I knew in college who was three years older than me, and who I thought was gorgeous and smart and amazing until he crushed my dreams by coming out... and HE had this list of "100 Foods to Eat Before You Die" shared on his account along with the number of them he had eaten (64... which I have to say is not nearly as impressive as my 70). After I looked through the list I decided to post it here and share it with all of you (along with my loooove of trying new foods)... Aren't you lucky!

So without further ado.... Here are the 100 Foods (you must!) Eat Before You Die... accompanied by colorful editorial comments by yours truly. Again, aren't you lucky!...??................??


100 Things to Eat Before You Die

1. Venison: Yes. Also Deer Jerkey. Yum.
2. Nettle tea: No
3. Huevos rancheros: Yes
4. Steak tartare: Yes. At JG’s in Washington, D.C. @MeganSeston (I'm sorry that I tag Twitter-style when I'm obviously not on Twitter. It's one of my many flaws. Love me anyway?)
5. Crocodile: Yes
6. Black pudding: Never would I EVER

7. Cheese fondue: Yes
8. Carp: Not that into fish
9. Borscht: No
10. Baba ghanoush: Yes
11. Calamari: Yes. Never Again.
12. Pho: Yes
13. PB&J sandwich: Yes
14. Aloo gobi: Yes
15. Hot dog from a street cart: Yes. Shout out to the cart that sits across from the National Portrait Gallery.
16. Epoisses: No
17. Black truffle: In the most delicious Truffled Mac and Cheese I’ve ever eaten. At Smith & Wollensky in Dallas.
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes: Strawberry Wiiiiiiiine (Very few know the true meaning of this reference. Haha)
19. Steamed pork buns: Yes
20. Pistachio ice cream: Yes
21. Heirloom tomatoes: Yes
22. Fresh wild berries: Yes
23. Foie gras: Yes (So divine. Except for the way it’s made. Which makes it not so divine if you have a heart.)
24. Rice and beans: Yes
25. Brawn, or head cheese: Yeeech. And No.
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper: No because I am NOT a lunatic and I value my tastebuds.
27. Dulce de leche: Yes

28. Oysters: Yes. Bay Oysters in Galveston, TX. BIG mistake.
29. Baklava: Yes
30. Bagna cauda: No

31. Wasabi peas: Yes. Yuck.
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl: Yes. Not a clam fan.
33. Salted lassi: Yes
34. Sauerkraut: Yes. Yummmmmm.
35. Root beer float: Yes
36. Cognac with a fat cigar: No. Haven’t had cognac and I can’t STAND the smell of cigars.

37. Clotted cream tea: Yes
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O shot: Hahaha Yes.
39. Gumbo: Yes
40. Oxtail: No
41. Curried goat: Yes, weirdly enough. 

42. Whole insects: Does at the bottom of a tequila shot count? Then yes.
43. Phaal: No
44. Goat’s milk: Yes
45. Single malt whisky: Yes
46. Fugu: Yes
47. Chicken tikka masala: One of my favorite comfort foods of all time
48. Eel: No
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut: Hot and fresh. Yes.
50. Sea urchin: No
51. Prickly pear: Only in martini form.
52. Umeboshi: Yes
53. Abalone: No
54. Paneer: No
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal: Yes
56. Spaetzle: Yes

57. Dirty gin martini: Yes
58. Beer above 8% ABV: Yes

59. Poutine: No
60. Carob chips: No
61. S’mores: Yes
62. Sweetbreads: Nope. Can’t do it.
63. Kaolin: No
64. Currywurst: No
65. Durian: No
66. Frogs’ legs: Yes
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake: All. Of. The. Above.
68. Haggis: Can’t and won’t.
69. Fried plantain: Yes
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette: No
71. Gazpacho: Yes
72. Caviar and blini: Weirdly, no.
73. Louche absinthe: Oh college. Yes.
74. Gjetost, or brunost: No
75. Roadkill: Almost had squirrel stew once. Almost.
76. Baijiu: No
77. Hostess Fruit Pie: Yes (Sidenote: Why have I answered “Yes” to all of the gross greasy American things??)
78. Snail: Ahhh Escargots with butter and garlic. Butter. Is there anything better than butter?
79. Lapsang souchong: No
80. Bellini: Yes. Yes to anything with Champagne.
81. Tom yum: No
82. Eggs Benedict: Yes. Even better? Eggs Chesapeake.
83. Pocky: Yes
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant: Not yet.
85. Kobe beef: No
86. Hare: No

87. Goulash: Yes. I am 50% Hungarian after all.
88. Flowers: Yes, on desserts?
89. Horse: No
90. Criollo: No
91. Spam: Yummmm.
92. Soft shell crab: Can’t get over the “eat the shell” thing.
93. Rose harissa: No
94. Catfish: So many times.
95. Mole poblano: Yes. Droooooool.
96. Bagel and lox: Never had lox.
97. Lobster Thermidor: Alas, Julia Child, I have not.
98. Polenta: Yes. Another fave comfort food
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain Coffee: Is this “special coffee”? No.
100. Snake: No. But someday I will, with Michael Douglas, inside the fuselage of a crashed drug-running plane. (Name that movie?)

So how many have YOU eaten?