Amazingly, my father has had one job interview his entire life.  My grandfather was an auto mechanic so when my dad was young he and his brothers worked in the shop – no interview there!  In 1969, having completed his Ph.D., my father interviewed for a job at Colorado College for a chemistry teaching position.  He got the job and has never looked back, until now.

When my father first announced last year that he was retiring, my sister and I wanted to do something to celebrate his retirement.  With help from the alumni office we received the names and email addresses of every student of his since 1985 and every chemistry major from 1969 – 1985.  My sister diligently emailed ALL of them, asking for submissions for a surprise collection of memories of my father’s long teaching career.  For those students that did not have email addresses we had postcards made and sent 650 of them out.

From those submissions that my sister received she created a beautiful book and had it printed and ready for my dad’s retirement party. The book was filled with stories of my dad’s teaching style, which was firm, but always helpful when he recognized that people were working hard.  He has always had a little humor and sarcasm that has shone through his teaching. Over the years my father has taught an immense amount of students and many of them have gone on to do amazing things.  Many of them are medical doctors, medical researchers, and a few are even chemistry professors.  It was wonderful to have so many people praise my dad for his hard work and dedication.

I was supposed to add my own memories to the book, but the book had to be sent to the printer right after Henry was born.  During the last stages of my pregnancy, and after Henry arrived I simply did not have time to write anything for dad’s book.  So I’m going to make up for that now.

I have always been proud to tell people that my dad is/was an organic chemistry professor.  For me, it was always pretty cool.  When I was in grade school my dad would come to school once a year and set off a little volcano.  As I remember it was a small black volcano that would spew out some “lava” after my dad set it off.  I’m pretty sure it was a little explosion of baking soda and vinegar, and probably did not require a doctorate in chemistry, but it was fun nonetheless.  I remember one year my class was asked to write thank-you notes to my dad for coming to school and setting off the volcano.  I wrote, “Hi Dad.  Thanks.  What’s for dinner?”

In junior high and high school having a dad that was a chemistry professor meant that every year, right before science fair like clockwork, some popular boy would come up to me and ask for my home phone number.  I learned after this happened the first time that this was not so they could call me, but so that they could call my dad and ask for his help with their science fair project.

I myself always got help from my dad with science fair.  Science fair was a little father-daughter bonding time for us, beginning in the 4th grade when we experimented with the elasticity of rubber bands at different temperatures.  My most successful science fair involved feeding fruit flies various foods/supplements to determine if any of them would extend their normal life cycle.  Broccoli was the clear winner, but thanks to my dad I fed a batch of fruit flies a food preservative, Butylhydroxytoluene (BHT) – only a chemist could have thought that was funny!

When I was a child my dad’s office was a wonderland of fun things to play with when we visited.  There was a deep drawer in my dad’s desk that was filled with small plastic tubes of different colors and little connectors.  They were supposed to be for making 3D models of chemical structures, but we would spend hours making little people and the like with them.  I remember once fooling around with these things and having my father take what I had made out to the conference room where his students were studying.  My father showed them what I had made and then quizzed them on what chemical structure it was.   When they all looked perplexed and frightened by the potential affect on their grades, he laughed and said, “It’s nothing.  Just something my daughter made.”

While my father was hard at work teaching future doctors and researchers, my mother was working hard raising two kids.  As busy as she was, every Thursday for years my mom would make two 13″ X 9″ cakes, one for our family and one for the chemistry students.  Friday afternoons we would take the cake into the chemistry department and my sister and I would fight about who got to carry the spatula (we were never allowed to carry the cake).  My mom would set the cake in the conference room and we would watch with amazement as the students appeared out of the woodwork and would descend on the cake like sharks in a feeding frenzy.

When I transferred colleges in the middle of my junior year back to Colorado College (CC), partially because I was homesick and couldn’t take another Wisconsin winter, and in part because I wanted to study primates, I learned of my father’s reputation on campus.  Being his daughter I knew my father was a hard task master, but it was interesting to hear of the same unbending attitude towards his students.  Once, I met a former student of my father’s who, when I informed him who my father was, silently smiled and then ended the conversation – I’m guessing he didn’t get a good grade!

And then one day I met a former student of my father’s who had a far different story of my father’s teaching style.  He told of how he had done miserably in one of my father’s classes, but my father had seen some potential in his failure.  My father asked him to spend a block (CC is on the block plan) retaking the class.  The student did so, spending my father’s once a year block off with another student who was also retaking a class.  The student passed the class the second time and went on to be a chemistry major.

I think what our family will miss most about my father not teaching anymore will be the community of the campus.  My sister and I grew up on campus, were friends with all of the other professor’s kids, took swim lessons at the pool, spent hours in the library and really considered it our second home. My father, when he wasn’t teaching also coached the women’s cross country team and had positions on many faculty boards.  We were dedicated fans of the hockey team and probably always will be to some extent.

I will miss being able to go into my father’s office, find the coffee cup and the hot apple cider packets he kept there for me and sit down with my dad for a chat while his students come in and out of his office asking for help.  I’m sure my father will miss this too, but I’m hoping he can make up for that by spending lots of time with his grandkids and even someday help them with their chemistry homework like he did for me when I was in high school.  Perhaps then they will realize that not only is he a great grandad, but he was also once a great professor.

You turn to leave, relieved, only to think moments later that he will probably go home, call all of his friends and say, “Whoa! She got fat!”  By the time you get to the check-out line your posture is slumped and by the time you get to your car you jump in so no one sees you crying.  None of the wonderful things you have done with your life since you saw him last were reflected in the conversation, and you almost want to run back and say, “But wait! I’ve accomplished so much – I’m a totally different person now!”

You were a different person then and he was an awful boyfriend.  You wonder sometimes where your self-esteem was at all – it seemed to be missing entirely.  He made you feel ugly, unloved, stupid, and worst of all, alone.  You said and did things that were out of character, until you completely lost yourself in the mess.  When the break-up came, you wondered, “Was it something I said or did?  Is this all my fault?”

I’ve never been one of those people who could keep a friendship going with an ex-boyfriend anyway.  The last time I tried it was, well, high school.  I tried to stay friends with my senior year boyfriend after we broke-up.  It was going pretty well until Graduation Day when he informed me that he and my best friend had been secretly dating since Prom.  I remember smiling and telling them how happy I was for them, while suppressing nausea and hoping that the day would end soon and that I would never see either of them again.

I never felt I belonged anywhere in high school, or with anyone.  And so when it was over, I ran, far, far away – trying to forget how awful it was – how it made me feel about myself.  Almost immediately I lost contact those few people I thought of as my friends in high school, the result of lack of trying on my part, and perhaps lack of interest on theirs – I really don’t know.  And I really, truly, thought I had moved on, that the person that I was now did not care about the past and the pain that was there.

But then, of course, there is Facebook.  A childhood friend of mine convinced me join, told me it was a great place to find old friends.  And it is, there are so many people that I have wondered how they were and what they were doing that I have found on Facebook.  But I have also found, much to my surprise, that I am still not over high school.  I still feel like I don’t belong with these people, that I am yet again the girl in the corner of the gym waiting for someone to ask me to dance.

A high school friend, with whom I, of course, have lost contact with, once told me that in high school I was “invisible”.  And I can’t remember whether that was purposeful on my part or not – but there I was, or wasn’t, really.  I wrote poetry then, acted in plays, wrote great papers and got good grades, but never belonged.  Are there people who feel that they belonged in high school?  That this was the greatest time of their life? I am most certainly not one of them.

It wasn’t all bad – I loved my physics class, my history and French teachers.  I learned a lot, took some great classes and had friends that I loved very much.

Apparently there was a great party at my house once in high school.  But sadly I wasn’t there, so I don’t have all of the details.  A friend of mine took the opportunity of being asked to house-sit while I went to visit my sister and my parents went to the Sand Dunes for Thanksgiving, to use our house for a party.  I arrived home, hours before my parents were due to come home as well, to find the house a wreck.  Corn flakes were sprinkled all over the entire house, trash cans were filled with beer bottles and strangely, every single one of my 64 crayons were broken in half.  I cleaned it all, frantically, and made it look to my parents as if nothing had ever happened.  If I had felt like an outsider before, the fact that I had not been at a raucous party at my house only made it worse.  I remember feeling as if I were a piece of paper that had folded in upon itself in an attempt to disappear entirely.

And so now, when I see that those people from high school are still friends, that they still get together, play together, etc. for some reason I still am jealous.   I still wonder, “Why doesn’t anyone invite me?” You see what Facebook has done to me? I’m wallowing in self-pity again! Just like high school!  I think I’m hoping that writing this will give me a little catharsis, perhaps help me to leave all of this behind.

You were a horrible boyfriend high school. I often hated myself just as much as I hated you.  I want you to know that I am, except for when I make the mistake of reading my Facebook home page, a different person.  A happier, more enlightened person.  I will never get the apology from you that I think I deserve, the attention I craved and you will never know what I am like now.  I have indeed accomplished many things since last we saw each other, I am loved and have others to love in return.  I turned my back on you and ran, and in the process regained myself, but every once in a while you haunt me.  Perhaps someday (maybe when I finally stop going on Facebook!) I’ll be able to let you stay in the past.

Well...

Why yes, yes she did – as evidenced by the items above.  They were on sale darn it! You got a problem with that?

For this second child, I was again hoping to avoid having to attend one, since we don’t need all that much stuff (except boatloads of diapers and wipes).  But again, my beloved sister promised that she could make the experience better than I feared.

Last Saturday, due to what could briefly be described as “flooring/flooding issues” at my sister’s house, a shower was held for me at my house.  Honestly, it was the best baby shower ever.

First, Rhiannon had decided that the shower would be a “Supper Shower”, which meant that all who attended would bring a few ingredients which would be combined to create dinners which I could freeze and use after the baby arrives when I have no motivation to cook.  I got to decide what people would make and my sister divied up the ingredients among the attendees.  Then my sister and I hunted down vintage aprons for gifts for everyone to wear and then take home.  (Ebay, as it turns out, is a treasure trove of funky vintage aprons.)

We found several large lots and when they arrived there was even a little tiny one that could be tied to the cutie:

Anna in Her Apron

Don’t worry though, we didn’t make her cook; Anna and her daddy headed off to the park with her friend Timothy and his dad, Steve.

Anyway, everyone showed up at my house with their assigned ingredients and after a brief period of “who wants to work on what?” all the ladies filled my kitchen making dinners.

Here’s the best part, my lovely friend Andrea showed up with a pedicure kit and my friend Cassandra had a new bottle of nail polish in her purse that I liked much better than the ones I had in my drawers.

So, while other people cooked and made meals, I sat on the couch and got this done:

Toes

How awesome is that? When it was time for lunch someone brought me my plate (I was drying after all) and then Rhiannon and my friend Shannon managed to make a small pan of lasagna that Mike and I had for dinner for the next two nights.

In the end I went out to my freezer in the garage and gloried in the fact that I now have: 3 meatloaves (I had managed to make myself one a few weeks ago), a large pan of lasagna, two dozen turkey meatballs, two Swiss Enchilada Casseroles, a Shepard’s pie, and a casserole of mac and cheese that my mom made a few weeks ago.

Along with the store bought pizzas and anything else I might have the energy to make in the next few weeks, we should be set for several nights of very little effort on my part for dinner!  Thank you to my sister who planned it and she , my mom and my friends who showed up, cooked, and cleaned my kitchen!  It was truly the best baby shower ever!

Today I will tackle the topic “Describe the best vacation you’ve ever taken.”

Mike and I were married in mid-November of 2004, but at the time, due to school and work schedules, we weren’t able to go on our honeymoon until Christmas.  A few days before Christmas we fled Colorado to Victoria, British Columbia.  I have been blessed with close relatives who have a vacation home outside of Victoria on the south side of Vancouver Island.  It is a beautiful home, where Mike and I took our first vacation together before we were married, that looks out from a high cliff over the ocean and across to Washington.

We were picked up at the airport and driven to Sooke, the closest town to the house.  We stopped on the way at the best meat shop in town, where we picked up steaks, sausage, and other things for our time at the house.  When we arrived at the house it had already been stocked with sandwich makings and some basic food – we were so well taken care of that visit!

One of the best things about the house is that there is a long stairway from the top of the cliff where the house is located down to a small private beach.  When we arrived Mike and I dropped our bags and climbed down the stairway to the little rocky beach.  When the waves crash upon the shore the sound of the rocks rolling up on the beach is almost like the sound of thousands of little hands clapping.  It’s a calming, wonderful place to spend time.

Close to the house there are many beautiful trails to hike on, through tall redwood forests that end up on the beautiful beaches of Vancouver Island, some rocky and some sandy.  For the next few days Mike and I spent time sleeping late, reading, watching the sights from the huge windows in the house and hiking the trails.  Mike spent a lot of time taking some of the most beautiful pictures he’s taken of the forest, the beaches, and the ocean.  It was quiet and calming and just what we wanted in a vacation.

Before Christmas we drove into Victoria where we stayed one night at a hotel that overlooked the harbor.  We had a fancy dinner at the restaurant on the top floor, shopped for each other’s Christmas presents and walked around downtown Victoria enjoying the Christmas lights.

We had a quiet Christmas eve and Christmas watching movies, reading our new books (we love giving books to each other) and enjoying our first Christmas as married people.

During our stay we mostly ate at home, but we did visit our favorite pub in Sooke, whose garlic mayo topped burgers are truly awesome, and a beautiful restaurant on a cliff point that overlooks the ocean.  Basically, we hiked, we read, we ate out a little, Mike took lots of pictures and we enjoyed the beauty of our surroundings.  It was the perfect “down time” vacation.

Don’t get me wrong, it was not a flawless vacation.  The car that belongs to my relatives broke down the day of our arrival and we had to deal with that mess and driving around a stranger’s car (we were loaned the car of someone who lives down the road). And the refrigerator stopped working, but we didn’t notice for a few days until there was a smell.  When we discovered that it had stopped working we moved as much as possible to the small wine refrigerator, but we lost most of the meat that we had purchased.  When we couldn’t have the roast or Scotch baked eggs we had planned on for Christmas we resorted to some steaks from the freezer, only to have the grill run out of gas just after we put the steaks on to cook.  But these were minor things, and could not compare with our lovely vacation.

Since then I have been back to the house once, with Mike and our friend Jen, and Mike has been back several times since to go salmon fishing with my father, uncle and my grandfather, before he died.  I miss the house, the ocean and the green of the Northwest greatly, especially these days with the sights of British Columbia on t.v. so much.  With the kids we won’t have that kind of vacation again for a long time, so I’m glad we had that time to really be together, relaxing and doing the things we love – it was by far my best vacation ever.

Preggo 31 weeks

So we all know I was overweight before I got pregnant, but it does really suck to go into the doctor’s office (which is now every two weeks) and get weighed.  Yesterday (when this picture was taken) I opted for contacts instead of my glasses in the tiniest hope that it would shave a few ounces off my weight gain.

But, heck, I had a bad week last week so I turned out to have lost weight instead of gained since my last appointment.  I’m supposed to be gaining weight now for the baby – at any other time in my life weight loss (@5 lbs) would have been just grand.

Pele does seem fine anyway and I am happy to report that there is one nice thing that resulted from all that vomiting I did last week.  At my last appointment the midwife was a little worried that Mr. Pele was still head up, banging his forehead on my rib cage, not where he needed to be in preparation for his impending birth.  But apparently if your mommy/host throws up for 5 hours straight you might become perturbed enough to flip yourself head down to get away from the direction of the chaos…  Let’s just hope he stays there so I don’t have to go out and find another stomach virus to catch.

We are now officially at 31 weeks now, with 9 more weeks to go.  I’m doubtful/praying that we have less than that, since Anna arrived at 37 weeks and if the kid makes it to 40 weeks I will be in the hospital for Anna’s birthday.  Double yuck.

On a lighter note, my midwife (whom I love – she was great for Anna’s birth) told a story that really freaked me out.  We discussed that the second time labor is likely to go faster than the labor with the first kid.  My labor was 18 hours last time, so I’m okay with shaving a few hours off that time anyway.  My midwife told me “my first labor was 12 hours and the second was 37 minutes.”

Hold on there! It takes me 30 minutes to get to the hospital!  Oh, that is just not good… Don’t worry though, I will not be naming my child, “CRV” or “Element” after the car in which he’s born.  That would just be tacky.  Perhaps we should rent a Lexus in a few weeks just in case – that sounds like a nice prep school rich kid name – instead of an “I was born in a car” name!

The week started out really well.  Monday I felt good, Anna and I were both recovered from a cold, and the weather was sunny.  We trooped off to our Monday morning music class, walked the dog, went to the park, and had a good nap.  It was all going so well! For dinner I was a little tired, but I managed to prepare a new tilapia recipe, basmati and a nice spinach salad.  Four bites into dinner things turned sour and I just didn’t feel right.  And thus begins my unpleasant week…

For the next three hours I experienced some um, severe stomach and intestinal issues, to put it delicately.  At around 11, when I could no longer keep even water down and I was having contractions, we finally called my OB doctor.  We were told to head to the hospital without further adieu.  My brother-in-law, who was fortunately up late working, came over and stayed on our couch listening to Anna’s baby monitor while we trooped off to the hospital.

When we arrived at the hospital at midnight, we checked into the Labor and Delivery department, a seemingly unending 20 minute process that was made worse by the heat in the admin office and the woman’s perfume, which made me even more nauseous.  I have no idea what cruel person finds it necessary to make you answer questions about your insurance and fill out billing forms while you are obviously ill, but I think whoever thought of the process is related to the Marquis de Sade. The printer jammed, the copier jammed, the printer ran out of paper, hot air blew on me and I still didn’t throw up – kudos to me!

Long story short, we were in the Labor and Delivery department for 6 hours.  I threw-up so much I raised a nurse’s eyebrows, got three bags of i.v. fluid, had contractions 2-4 minutes apart (caused by severe dehydration), got anti-nausea medicine and anti-contraction medicine.  I was not able to sleep due to being hooked up to an i.v., a contraction monitor and a baby heart rate monitor and Mike had barely any luck with the make-shift bed/chair in our room.  We made it home by 6 a.m., just in time to hear the first chirps of Anna who had slept through the whole thing.

Anna became sick later that morning and Mike and I traded trying to take care of her and trying to sleep the whole day.  For the next few days no one really felt well, we all were exhausted, and Anna watched way too much t.v. while we tried desperately to sleep even for a few minutes.  Mike was able to work from home on Wednesday and went to work on Thursday, only to come home to me having more contractions, and I forced him to work from home on Friday, just in case another trip to the hospital was needed. Sadly, although friends would have liked to help, all offers of help were ended with, “but we don’t want to get sick.”  Come on! Don’t you too want to have this very fun stomach virus?  So we were on our own…

Friday we all started to finally feel better and a little more rested.  Yesterday, Saturday, we ventured out to get diapers and other things we were in desperate need of, and had some fun at the park after Anna’s nap.  Our week that began with such awful sickness is finally over and I’m thankful. This experience, although unpleasant, has certainly put things in perspective.  When I complain of my hip pain or heartburn, Mike now gently says, “At least you’re not projectile vomiting.”  Truer words were never spoken…

Friday, my sister and I packed the kids in the car for a day at the Stock Show.  I told Anna that we were going to see “animals” and she got pretty excited and said “elephants!”.  I’m not sure if she was disappointed, but we did see lots of horses, cows, bunnies, chickens and even some guinea pigs…

The highlights at the Stock Show for the kids are the rides however.  Here are Anna and Brendan waiting in line for the little train ride – we made Brendan hold Anna’s hand – which he did begrudgingly, and then promptly let her go as soon as the ride was open.

Waiting for the train

I got a shot of the kids in the train as it went by, I have video too, but here’s the kids on the little engine:

Riding the train

After the train ride, it was off to the pony ride.  They strap them in pretty good, but don’t worry, I walked alongside Anna just to make sure she didn’t fall off.  She held on pretty well and seemed to like her horse, Dr. Pepper.

Riding Dr. Pepper

As we walked around the grounds we found a huge tractor, far bigger than my camera could capture.  We stuck the kids on it for a nice photo of them looking frightened of the big wheels.

On the big tractor

It was a long day, Anna had a late and short nap and after nap I let her play in the sink – it’s one of her favorite things to do.  And then since it was so close to dinner time I just put the plate of ham and cucumber next to her and let her eat dinner from the sink.  Good times!

Dinner in the sink

Each year as I start my (always belated) Christmas shopping one of Lehrer’s songs begins to run in my head, his “Christmas Carol”.  The lyrics have some great lines, such as, “God rest ye merry merchants, may ye make the yuletide pay”.

I thought I’d share it with all of you for a little laugh as you do your Christmas shopping…