here's the deal... lucille...

well, i'm sure you were all just sitting at your computers with bated breath since my post that i was off to find a doula and a new doctor... right?

no??

well, for those of you who were... or those of you who might be the least bit interested... 

here's the new gig.  

we interviewed doulas through the end of december, early january.  actually, we only met a couple face to face and had several phone and email conversations with other doulas.  but, after i met Whitney, i was sold.  i felt like meeting the other ones face to face would be a waste of both of our time.  

the whole process was rather educational (doulas are wise, wise women... i highly recommend using one if you'd like to deliver vaginally... even if you think you'd want pain meds) and i've learned so much in the past 8 weeks that i never knew before.  i was still rather hesitant about changing doctors because i was so close to the end of my pregnancy.  but every doula i met with either recommended it or told me rather frankly that the VBAC clients who stayed with their dr.'s almost always wished after the delivery that they had switched because they had to fight for what they wanted.  

one dr. i met with in december that had been recommended didn't really help either.  you could tell he was really good at what he did... but he wasn't very touchy feely.  ummm... hello.  this is monica we're talking about.  the girl who still tries to hold her husbands hand every two minutes after 9 years of being together.  so when i left his office i felt like he'd be a good dr., but he hadn't convinced me to switch.  i liked my gregarious dr. way more than him... even if i knew deep down she was going to c-section me.  

in the process of meeting and talking over email and the phone with all of these doulas... two places kept coming up.  because all of these women, who don't really work with each other, kept mentioning these two places, i decided to check them out.  one was dr. breeden... a doctor at St. Lukes who is well known for successful VBACS.  (by the way... i'm including links because perhaps someone out there might want to try for a VBAC in the Denver area and i think providing this information is helpful).  The other place was the Midwifery at Denver Health.  

so january was spent awaiting the arrival of these appointments and making a decision.  Dr. Breeden and his personality just blew us out of the water.  he was so warm and caring.  i could easily see him as my dr.  when i asked him what his success rate was... he thought about 50% of the women who attempted a VBAC were successful with him.  Those are pretty good odds compared to most dr.'s.  

i still had the midwifery to look at later that week, so we didn't commit.  

however, for the first time in 9 months, i felt HOPE.  

dr. breeden made me feel like the ideal candidate and he had so much faith in VBACs and the way a woman's body is designed to birth the baby she grew.  kjaer and i left in a state of euphoria.  in fact, we were so thrilled that we'd have a chance to actually labor with this baby, we stopped at a taphouse and each got a celebratory beer.  (don't worry some of you ladies out there, it's safe to have a beer at this point in my pregnancy... and man, was it good!)

the midwifery at denver health was great.  i'd have to say that i was a little jaded because i had a heck-of-a time getting down there (that will be saved for another blog because now it's just a hilarious story).  i was 1/2 an hour late and they waited to close their office for me.  so i didn't get to spend as much time with them as i wanted.  HOWEVER... their stats were even better than dr. breedens.  their c-section rate has never gone higher than 6% over the years (unheard of in the states... our national average is currently at 30% and climbing) and they are consistently 1st, 2nd or 3rd in the nation for successful VBACS.  no matter how warm and fuzzy dr. Breeden was... i just couldn't beat those numbers.  

i guess i'm a numbers gal.

so i've officially switched... 2 1/2 weeks away and i'm switched.

i kind of half expected a disappointed phone call from my OB who i was just so sad to leave, begging me to come back.  but it seems no one over there really cares... apparently this kind of thing happens all of the time.  and apparently i was the only one who was sad to say goodbye.  

now i'm sure a few of you are clutching your chests because you're picturing my hippie-midwife on a stool out in a field catching my baby while i sway with flowers woven through my hair.  but rest easy, i actually will labor at denver health in the labor unit with dr's and an operating room down the hall... literally.  so in the very unlikely event that something should go wrong, i'm in a hospital that is set up to work with emergency surgeries.  the midwife would simply transfer my care to a dr. and i'd get a c-section.  

but let me say this... if i DO get a c-section... i will know at the bottom of my heart that i did EVERYTHING i could to deliver vaginally and that will be that.  no more wondering (like i have so many times with leif) if the dr. had just let me go another couple of days, would i have gone into labor on my own.... or feeling backed into a corner by a conservative dr. who didn't trust my body to do what it was made to do.  this time if i get a c-section, it will be because i absolutely needed one for my safety or the baby's and not for any other reason.  

so that's the plan, stan.  i'm going for it.  i'm going to try to bring this baby into this world the way i feel God intended for me to.  and beside me i'll have a midwife, an amazing doula and most importantly... my champion of a husband.  i'm up for the challenge (i always did like to set big goals for myself... like half marathons, losing 60 pounds... and then meeting those goals).  

so now that the clock is winding down (a little over two weeks until my due date) we'll all just have to sit back, relax and wait for baby K2 to make his or her grand appearance... whatever way God has planned for them to enter this world.  

we're here, we're ready and we can't wait to meet you!

it's leif's birthday... three months early...

the other day i believe the good Lord himself tried to give me a glimpse of how hard this whole having-two-kids-less-than-two-years-apart-gig is going to be. 

i was making leif breakfast and unloading the dishwasher at the same time (don't worry, i'm aware i'll have to let go of this multi-tasking i've just managed to get back when K2 arrives) when leif decided to "help" me with the dishes.  he started grabbing plates and glasses, rather unsteadily, and trying to hand them to me.  

not wanting to discourage such a helpful heart and attitude, i did my best to adjust and keep up with his pace.  but alas, i could not.  because after rescuing a plate from certain doom and stacking it on the shelf, i heard a crash behind me and turned around to see leif with shattered glass all around his little footie pajamas.  he looked up, quite innocently, and asked broken?

yes, baby, broken.  it's OK.  you're a great little helper.  

but let's go sit in our high chair because breakfast is ready 

(and your mama wants to clean up all of this glass without you under her feet).

later that morning, my little independent boy decided he needed wheat thins and he just couldn't wait for his mama to get them for him.  i had just answered a phone call from a prospective doula and so when he grabbed the box from the pantry i thought, no harm in that, he'll stay busy snacking for a few minutes while i wrap this up.  i swear he was out of sight for less than 2 minutes when i went searching for him.  i found him reading in his room, blankets tucked around him, in my glider.  the crackers, on the other hand, had been turned up-side-down on his bed and the dog was dutifully vacuuming them up with his mouth.  after i shoed trooper away, i salvaged the untouched crackers and put them back in the bag, threw away troopers half eaten ones and started to head to the kitchen to get the dust buster for the crumbs.  leif followed me, because he remembered at that moment that he absolutely had to have crackers for snack.  he was quite annoyed that i was going to put them away.  as i rounded the corner to the kitchen, there was my dog, throwing up piles of wheat thins everywhere.  leif curiously watched trooper for a minute, out of genuine concern, asking trooper OK?  

no baby, trooper is sick.

finally trooper was done and i started cleaning up the mess.  by now leif demanded to have the bag of crackers back.  FINE!  i thought... eat them while i work on this.  i handed him the bag, which had just a few crackers and the crumbs left.  well, leif got a little frustrated that the crackers were all of the way at the bottom of the bag, so he decided to problem solve (so intelligent that little man of mine) and get them out of the bag... by dumping them all over the living room floor.  

keeping trooper at bay, i made leif help me pick them up (which goes a little something like, one for leif, one for mama until it's all cleaned up... it also makes it something like twice the clean up time).  then i put leif in his high chair with two crayons and a piece of paper so that i could finish cleaning up dog puke and dust bust the two piles of crumbs in two different rooms of my house.

these jobs took a few minutes.  as in, leif was hardly out of my site and he was contained.  when i got back to his high chair, i found his paper on the floor and his entire tray (and upper lip) colored red.  

it might have been about then that i looked into the heavens and said, 

Lord have mercy on us... 

we're going to have two of them in a few weeks!

i mean, i knew going into this that leif would be almost two when our next one was born... but i guess i also thought his "terrible twos" would hit when he was like, 2 years and 2 months... enough time for me to figure out and learn our next child... not 5 weeks before our next child joined us when leif was still 3 months away from turning 2.  

but i should have known... because for the last couple of weeks, kjaer and i had been commenting to each other about how leif seemed to be picking up some "two year old-ish" traits.  we speculated that maybe it came from the little 2 year old at daycare... who is very much in the throws of his "terrible twos".  we know this because at the daycare's secret santa exchange, he marched over to leif and ripped his new toy out of his hands, screaming "MINE!!!"

kjaer would probably tell you this story a little less dramatically... like, oh... he was just confused.  he thought it was his toy.  he took it from leif, but he eventually gave it back!

(after MUCH persuasion by his parents i might add.)

the whole time this happened, leif stood there a little shell shocked and then said very matter-of-factly, "my tractor!" (which it was).  eventually the issue was resolved and all was well.  and truth be told, i probably wouldn't be so hard on the kid if i hadn't witnessed him do the same thing a few weeks earlier when picking leif up from daycare one afternoon.  

so over christmas break, when leif starting claiming territory all over the house as MINE, it was easy to point fingers at his cute little daycare friend since i had witnessed this behavior before.  

but then leif started something else during break... which may or may not be from this little boy.  when he's mad and doesn't get his way, he commands you to perform with the word NOW.  and, i must say, it's like my little dude's head starts to spin and his voice drops an octave lower when he pulls out this freshly learned word.  

not happy with mommy?  want daddy NOW.

not happy with daddy?  want mommy NOW.

cold?  want blankie NOW.

the other night at dinner, leif was feeling particularly feisty... trying to boss kjaer and i around.  we'd done a pretty good job of dealing with his grumpiness and overall terrible two-ness.  he had thrown his chocolate milk cup on the floor for the umpteenth time and kjaer and i had removed it from his tray.  i had started cleaning up dishes and leif looked at kjaer with the cutest and yet scariest scowl i have ever seen and demanded... want chocolate milk NOW.  

kjaer, tired of being pushed around by middle and high schoolers all day long, wasn't going to stand for it.  he gently explained that leif needed to ask nicely by saying want chocolate milk please.  you might be thinking that this is absurd to ask a 1 year old.  but we have worked really hard with leif on him asking with please and receiving with thank you.  and to be honest, for a 21 month old... he does pretty darn good at saying please and thank you on his own... when he's in the right mood.  so it's not like kjaer was asking him for the moon.  he wanted to hear four simple words: want chocolate milk PLEASE.

well, leif looked at him like, not on your life buddy, and very loudly proclaimed, NO! want chocolate milk NOW.    

and i'm telling you... kjaer stood his ground for a solid 5 or 10 minutes while they went back and forth like this.  there was this little wimpy shadow inside of me that was about to beg kjaer to just hand him the milk so we could be done with this stupid argument.  but in the end, after lots of NOWs and gentle reminders to say please, leif twiddled his thumbs, protested with a few cries and said, more milk please, whilst staring angrily at his tray.

and that was that. 

his mama was standing there thinking... oh lord, have we got it coming or what?!?!  

because let me tell you something about my little dude... that child has an iron will.  he is fiercely independent and very stubborn.  i've known this about him since i was pregnant with him... go ahead and roll your eyes, but it's true.  he would be kick, kick, kicking away and the instant i would take his daddy's hand (or anyone else's for that matter) and lay it on my tummy, i could literally feel him turn and give them the cold shoulder.  he's so strong willed, he wouldn't evict from my womb!!!  i never did go into labor after going to the acupuncturist 4 times and chiropractor 3 times, walking many rounds (albeit slow and breathless) around the blocks and doing every-god-forsaken-thing doctors and friends tell you to do to go into labor several times a day.  when he was born, the doctor had to pull him from behind part of my hip bone because he had wedged himself up there in an effort to keep from dropping (remember, he had dropped and moved back up?)  when he was an infant, i knew he was strong willed... i learned this while trying to learn how to breastfeed.  when i told others this, i think they thought i was complaining about him... and maybe in a way i was.  but i think i was more shocked because i didn't know this little 8 pound cutie patootie could have so much spunk from day one.  

but to be honest, i LOVE that he's so spunky.  i LOVE that one of his first and favorite words was NO (even though that was quite shocking to hear from a wee little one who couldn't even walk yet).  because i think it means that later in life, others won't be able to push him around.  he has the cojones to stick up for himself and what is right and say NO while meaning it.  and i hope he says NO to all sorts of things, especially as he gets into high school and college.  i hope he sticks to his guns, like he did with his chocolate milk showdown with his daddy.  

there's a part of me that is beginning to see the awesome privilege of taking my child's hand and teaching him about choices, respect and boundaries.  and then there's a part of me that's scared to death of failing... especially when leif is turning the corner into a pivotal stage of development and my hands are going to suddenly be full with a brand new baby.  

but it's then that i remember a promise from Jeremiah 29:11 "I know the plans I have for you, " declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." and i know that not only is this promise for kjaer and i... but for our beautifully, wonderfully created masterpiece of a son.  

it's comforting to know that in spite of our successes and failures, because i'm sure there will be plenty of both, the Lord has plans to prosper each of us.  no matter what kjaer and i do, ultimately, the Lord has my little leif in the palms of his hands... shaping him to become the man he has created him to be... a man who will stick to his guns, be fiercely loyal, independent and yet sensitive and caring towards others.  so no matter what happens over the next few months... because i'm sure there will be plenty of chaos (and probably a sobbing mama every so often) we will all come through refined and stronger... including our little man whom we love to pieces and wouldn't trade for any other two year old in the world.   

let's just hope that over the next couple of months,

our house doesn't fall apart in the process!

i'll tell you mine if you tell me yours...

i was inspired by another blog to do this... i thought it was so perfectly funny and refreshing to read another woman airing out her "top 5 quirks" of the year.  immediately i thought, i should do that.  and although i have many... oh-so-many things that make me quirky... i will name the top 5 i've noticed in myself this year.  in other words, they've probably existed in me for a long time... but i'm only now beginning to dust off the surface of my very crazy self.

i hope you feel inspired to do so as well.

1.) i'm sure every mother has their thing that they obsess over with their child.  for some it's body temperature... which i don't really care about, as my mother likes to point out every time she sees her grandson and thinks he's freezing to death (even though he's just fine to me).  for others it's a sleep schedule... and leif has forced me to throw my hands up in the air on this one.  i've spent the last 20 months of his life trying to figure him out and finally gave in because he is not like all of your perfectly sleep trained children (read... he is STUBBORN)  he fights sleep and i'm tired of fighting him to conform so i gave up.  as long as he takes a nap at some point and goes to bed before 9 (but preferably 8) i'm happy.  tonight i had him in bed by 8... he finally went to sleep at 9:30.

see?

i. give. up.

nope.  for me it's something else... choking... on food more specifically.

the child will be starving to death and i'm over at his plate sawing his food into tiny pieces because lord help us all if i have to perform the heimlich on him.  if he were to choke, i'd probably run around in circles asking myself if he qualifies for the infant method or the adult method.  it's so bad, that when others give him chunks of food, i break them into smaller pieces when they're not looking because i'm just sure they are the obstruction his little throat has been waiting for.

it doesn't help that a couple of times, when i've tried to relax about it, he's choked.  for instance, the other night he was in the bathtub and i was chewing on crushed ice from a cup (a pregnancy craving, i guess).  he likes ice too.  this evening in particular he was asking for pieces of ice and then watching what happened when they hit the water.  at first i was giving him tiny pieces, in case he stuck them in his mouth.  but after several pieces going straight into the bathwater i loosened the reigns.

bad move.

when he asked for another piece i gave him a larger piece so that it would last longer in the bathtub.  what did that child do, you ask?  plopped it straight into his mouth.

breath monica, i told myself, he's almost 2 years old, he chews on ice all the time.  

he's fine.  

you. need. to. chill.  

so i sat back and pseudo-relaxed while my little man sat there happily bathing and sucking on ice.  and then he gagged on it... the dirty rat.  just when i start to let go of my obsession he sucked me back in.

of course, he cleared it himself just fine and didn't even hardly wince.  i, on the other hand, was getting ready to pull out my iPhone and start searching for how-to videos on clearing ice from your toddlers throat.

he'll probably be the only kid in elementary school whose sandwich will fit in a tiny container instead of a ziplock bag because i will have cut it for him into small, bite size pieces.  not really... i mean, i actually let him eat a 1/2 of a sandwich this week without cutting it up.  i stood their in the kitchen admiring the mastery of his whole sandwich-eating-ability and patting myself on the back for being such a great mother.  he's so brilliant, i thought to myself.

but i'll still probably puree his raw vegetables.

just kidding... or am i?  :)

2.) my kitchen has to be clean when i go to bed.  i repeat... i can not go to sleep unless the kitchen is immaculate... well, that may be too strong of a word now that i have a child.  but even still, the dishes must be loaded (the correct way) into the dishwasher, hand washed items must be cleaned and on the drying rack, crumbs wiped off of the counters and tables and i would prefer that all of the days work, receipts, papers, etc. are tucked away.  i don't care whether you tuck them down your pants or put them where they belong... i just don't want to see them. (although this is why i have so many little baskets all over the place because my husband is the king of receipts and papers that i cannot get rid of).  i want the illusion of cleanliness.  it helps me to feel in control and able to handle what you throw at me.

the minute my kitchen gets "undone" i feel my soul start to itch and scratch.  i'm pretty sure my left eye twitches and i probably start giving the look to kjaer when i see him set things on the counter.  in fact, my high-metabolism man often eats an evening snack before going to bed and i just cannot understand how that certain dish can't make it into the dishwasher.  he sets it on the counter above the dishwasher... not in it.  when i see this, nearly every night, my blood boileth over.  i've tried to just quietly put it away or mention it in passing... but it's clearly not a quirk of his that he sees as very important because he just handsomely smiles at me and shrugs while he says i was going to take care of it later.  (i hate that word... later... blech).  and he probably has every intention of doing it later... but later has a different meaning to kjaer than it does to me.  later might mean tomorrow morning or three days from now.  but me... i want it done NOW (another quirk that will probably not make the top 5 cut).  

the kitchen is my domain. i am its ruler.  and it must be respected by all who enter.

3.)  number two reminds me of another thing that is quirky.  my house could have dust an inch thick on its furniture, floors that haven't been vacuumed in 2 weeks, laundry piles the size of everest... but if my kitchen and living room floors are swept i feel so. much. better.

i remember after i had leif one of my biggest frustrations was my house felt like it was falling apart.  i felt totally responsible for keeping it clean to my old standards (i think because i was home and not working).  these standards have sooo-ho-ho changed since b.b. (before baby) but i could not figure out how to balance cleaning with a brand new baby (and the increase leif brought in laundry, changing the sheets nearly every day because of my crazy milk supply, and just functioning in general!)  

one time, my mother in law had taken me to a doctors appointment (because i still couldn't drive).  when i got home i was a wreck.  i went to the bathroom and bled on our white bathroom rug and then i had to nurse leif, which at the time was like asking me to lead the entire nation in a prayer meeting.  i was very stressed out, sitting in the nursery trying to figure out how i could accomplish one thing that would make me feel better since everything else was a fiery disaster.   my mother in law had been kind enough to clean the blood off of the rug for me and she came in and asked if there was anything else she could do for me before she left. 

i couldn't help myself.  deep down i heard all of the wisdom of new-mothers-past whispering in my ears; when people ask what they can do for you, be honest and tell them what would help.

and yes, you guessed it...  i asked her to sweep my floors. 

i just knew if they were cleaner, i would feel better. 

and seriously, i could have kissed her feet for sweeping them. (still could)

she turned my whole day around with a broom and a dust pan.

i'm still so grateful for that kind gesture of hers.  she'll probably never understand what that meant to my fragile little self on that day.  

4.) strangely, in spite of kind gestures like that... i have a very hard time accepting help in any form from people.  some of this has to do with my control issues.  when leif was born people were helping by folding my towels and putting them away, folding his diapers and putting them away... just little jobs they thought i would appreciate.

and i really tried to appreciate them.

really... i did.

but nobody folds my towels and puts them away the way i do.  and only a handful of people know how to fold the diapers and stack them the way i like.  so, if you are kind enough to do these things for me, i'll appreciate your gesture... but i can only live a day or two before refolding and restacking these two items.  but don't worry too much, because i'll feel guilty the whole time.  i can feel my husband's eyes boring into the back of my neck as i busily refold things and i can hear him thinking they are just towels and diapers, woman!  let it go.  but i know he is very particular about other things like the exact cup he drinks from for each beverage he consumes, water spots on the bathroom sink and how to hang his clothes... so he can't be too hard on me.

the other reason i can't accept help is because i feel like i need to be independent all of the time.  i think this is a trait i've picked up on from my mom, because my dad travelled for work most of my life so she was responsible for everything.  just the other day i was getting stuff ready for my thirty-one mailing, working on washing and drying diapers, cleaning the kitchen (duh) and getting ready to leave for a lunch date with a dear friend of mine.  i already felt like a champ because i had asked for help (gasp) by seeing if kjaer could return something to costco he was unhappy with and pick up a few items there.  but i wanted to handle the rest... i was going to go to kinkos to run copies for my mailing, pick up more laundry soap (we have to buy a special kind for our diapers) and go to lunch.  kjaer very kindly took my copy and asked me how many copies he could make for me while i was out to lunch and i practically snatched it from his hands exclaiming i can do it, you don't have to. kjaer kind of stood there shell-shocked because he was just trying to be nice, after all, and here i was not letting him be nice to me.  i could tell from the look on his handsome brow that he couldn't understand why i wouldn't just accept his kind gesture and just let him help me out.

and then i found myself back peddling... copies are no big deal, i'll be going right by the kinkos store on the way home, blah, blah, blah.  but the whole time i was b.s.-ing i was thinking, what the heck is wrong with you?  you always complain how overwhelmed you are and here this man is trying to let you have an enjoyable afternoon with your friend while he shows his love for you by doing errands for you and watching leif.  

it's a sickness, i suppose.  very unhealthy.  

i definitely need to improve upon this before baby k2 arrives, because i'll need more help than ever and kjaer is my teammate.  

when i asked kjaer the other night about my quirks (because i was thinking about this blog) and i mentioned this one... he whole-heartedly agreed.  the speed in which his agreement came almost validated how bad i really must be.  

i'm working on it, people... really.

5) i'm terrified of antiperspirant and microwaves.  this has only developed in the last couple of years, i'm pretty sure because i witnessed the horrific cancer death of my father.  as i've walked away from that experience, much stronger and wiser in many ways... i've also walked away with several fears.  the biggest one being that i will get... or someone i love will (again) get... cancer.  if somebody i love has a weird sore or something weird going on (like when trooper was sick this summer) i go into crazy-cancer mode.  (just ask kjaer about the time he found me laying on troopers dog bed with him crying because i was sure he was dying of cancer... maybe i'll save that for another blog).

of course, i do the only logical thing... i blame it on antiperspirants and microwaves... even though there are sooooo many factors at stake (and clearly trooper doesn't wear deodorant... although his food IS by the microwave).  actually, i have to say i've always been a little teensy bit jumpy around microwaves.  that probably started back in the day of disney afternoons with my brothers after school.  we'd make snacks and watch tailspin and gummy bears while waiting for my aunt to come home to watch us.  one day i got the bright idea to microwave chocolate chips on a mound of peanut butter covered in tin foil.  apparently no one informed me about metal in microwaves.  well, a spark was thrown and i turned off the microwave faster than... well, i don't know... but fast enough that everyone and everything was ok.  when i called my mom at work to tell her of said spark, she quickly schooled me on microwave safety and probably breathed an audible sigh of relief that her daughter didn't burn down her house with her other more well behaved children inside.  

so ever since then i haven't trusted those things.  

when leif was born, my microwave conspiracy theory heightened.  every morning when i made my oatmeal before work, i would press start and take leif into another room... or at least scooch his high chair AWAY from that side of the room.  i'm particularly scared of kjaer's microwave i inherited through marriage, as it has the tendency to scorch something if you cook it the recommended way.  i have to cook it at reduced power (80%) for everything.  

i knew my aversion to microwaves had gone too far when i casually brought up said fear to my dear martha after dragging leif's high chair across the floor to nuke my coffee before leaving for work.  (see? we even say "nuke"... shouldn't that tell us all something?)  she kind of giggled at me.  then i proceeded to tell her i never prepared any of leif's food in the microwave.  i could tell she knew i was on board the crazy train when she asked if i prepared food for myself in the microwave and i responded... "well... yes..."  we both sort of laughed and i told her that in THIS particular case, it was better off left as "if i don't know about it, i won't care."  thereby giving her full reign of the microwave.  as long as we both understood that i didn't want to know because i knew i'd go a little crazy thinking about my little dudes brains getting "nuked".  

this is around the same time my armpits began to get sore in the lymph node region.  i'd sigh and toss and turn at night worrying that i had cancer of the armpits because of my deodorant. i'd google cancer findings on antiperspirant and scare the crap out of myself every time i'd read something else about it.  i'd rub my armpits and exclaim i had cancer to kjaer every day.  i couldn't understand why, when i went to buy kjaer's deodorant, HE could get it without antiperspirant and still smell like a dream by the end of the day... but the ENTIRE aisle of women's deodorant was antiperspirant ONLY.  i mean... i guess that just lends itself to the whole pressure of society on how perfect women have to be because they AREN'T EVEN ALLOWED TO PERSPIRE!  we started shopping for deodorant's without aluminum at health food stores, trying to find one that left me feeling as fresh as possible.  all i have to say about this endeavor is although my friends and family never said anything about my smell... i still felt not-so-fresh.  so i'd cheat and use my secret lavender which was chock full of aluminum and then spend all day worrying that i'd have cancer.  it was and is a vicious cycle.  

now that i work part time i wear my antiperspirant on days that i work and on days that i don't i use the crappy deodorant that doesn't work nearly as good as my husbands (don't ask me why) because usually on those days it's just him, leif and the people i run into at the grocery store who have to see me... and i don't know about you but they don't hug me when i pay for my groceries, so i'm ok with not smelling like a goddess on those days.  i still worry about my three days of using (sometimes 4), but figure that less exposure is better than 24/7 exposure.  

6.)  i have a terrible aversion to any sort of light after i've gone to bed.  i learned this after living with my dear husband... who wakes up in the middle of the night, goes out to the kitchen, turns on a light,  eats a bowl of cereal, comes back to bed and is back asleep in no time.  he does the same thing when he goes to the bathroom.  i mean, we're talking direct exposure to light, people!!  

i just can't even make sense of him!

i'd be laying in our dark room and the light in the kitchen would go on... i'd practically arch my back like a pissed off cat and hiss.  if light even touches my irises, i'm doomed.  i'm awake.  

for this reason alone, i mentally map out every environment i sleep in so that i can find my way to the bathroom, use said bathroom, and return back to bed without touching a single switch.  in some places (like my home) i've even done part of my bathroom trek with my eyes closed because of a nightlight or kitchen light that i thought was too offensive.  when leif was a newborn i could change his diaper in the dark or by light of a cell phone.  only on very rare occasions would i reach around the doorway into another room to turn that light on and close the door almost all of the way so that i could have a sliver of light to see with...  although, i would have fallen asleep standing up in broad daylight during those days as i was so exhausted.  don't know what i was so worried about.  it must be that it isn't even the falling back asleep factor, which sometimes plays a big part.  it's also just the sight of light when it's SUPPOSED to be dark.  it's just bad for business.  

i'm so bad that before leif was born, when kjaer would be going into our closet to get clothes early in the morning for himself he'd have to say "LIGHTS" and i would cover my head with a pillow until i heard the switch go off.  (he's up about an hour before me).  even now that kjaer and i have been living together for several years, he's so good at getting up and getting what he needs in the dark, shutting the door behind him and then turning the bathroom light on.  i still can manage to lay there, bothered by the light coming from under the doorway.  

the weirdest part about this is that i was terrified of the dark as a little girl.  in fact, i had to sleep with the hall light on until i was in the 8th grade.  is that even normal?  i always figured that most kids got over that fear earlier than i did.  

7.)  sometimes, when i run by myself... i count.  it's hard to explain and it's been such a long while since i've actually been able to run long enough to get into a rhythm (sigh)... but it's like i count my steps and breathing and how they synch up together.  it sounds, if i remember correctly, a little like one-un-un, two-oo-oo, three-ee-ee, one-un-un, two-oo-oo, three-ee-ee.  don't ask me to explain anymore... it gives me a rhythm, keeps my feet moving and my mind off of the work i'm doing.

well... there you have it.  my quirks.  those things you probably wouldn't know unless you were a fly on the wall. and yes, i realize that i originally wanted to tell you 5 but then the 6th and 7th ones sort of just jumped onto the page.  i can count, i just can't stop blabbering on about myself!   

but now i'm curious.

 i know we all have these little things others might find odd... so let me hear yours... if you dare.