My Husband's Twin

I can't believe I never posted about this!

We've had these foam blocks since Raelynn was a baby. Now Seoul enjoys playing with them. But all of us enjoy laughing at one of the pictures that happens to be on the block that has "D." I swear to you, the picture looks like Jeremy.

You be the judge! See for yourself!

We've always said it's "D" for "Dada" which is just perfect. You can see the duck on there too. "D" for "duck." So there. You see? It MUST be "D" for "Dada" then.

Jeremy doesn't completely agree with Raelynn and me, but he is a good sport about it.

For Why?!?!?

It's the start of a 3-day weekend! Last night, I had a migraine and was determined that today would be awesome. But Seoul has a cough and runny nose so we've been chillin' at home. I decided it would be an ideal time to begin going through my crap and whittling it down. I know the next 2 months will fly by and I don't want to be panicking before we leave for the US.

So I started with a giant storage bag (the kind you vacuum-seal shut) that was under the crib. I noticed my fatheaded troll of a MIL had been in it because she took out the ugly polka dot pants she'd given Raelynn. She must have taken them home in defeat because they're not in Raelynn's closet again. Good. I'm not wasting precious suitcase space on ugly garments from her. I will be absolutely thrilled when that woman is not rummaging through my items!

Anyway, I pour out all the items onto the floor, much to Seoul's great delight, who has helped herself to some of my bikini tops while I begin trying on shorts and t-shirts. Oh what did I expect? That I would fit into my size 3 pants now? Ha. They mock me as I try to pull them up but I'm rather surprised that I can get them pulled up even partially over my butt. That's progress at least. But since it will be quite some time before I'm a 3 again, I put them in the pile for sale. Most of my cute Hollister t-shirts were a no-go either. I'm so booberific now that they appear like they have shrunken onto me. No, no. I'll go buy new ones at Hollister when I get back. They're in great condition so I'll sell these too.

And then I find some stuff that's just had it. It's old and ripped and I've no idea why we've wodged it into a storage bag. Time for it to be thrown out. I make a pile of things to be thrown away. I'm pleased though that there are a few things at least that I can wear again since having kids. Not many things, mind you, but I'll take it. And hey, at least now I have good reason to go shopping.

I sort the bag out and then fill it back up with carefully folded items to be sold. I feel productive. Jeremy comes in and I proudly show him my work. I point to the pile to be thrown away and he gets all concerned. "Oh no, we can't throw it away. We'll give it to my parents," he tells me. "Um, what? WHY?!?" I ask. He explains that in China, there is none of this culture of giving away or selling your things, or throwing clothes away. Even ripped clothes. "But these shirts are old and ripped! What in the world are they going to do with them?!?" One of the shirts in question is a black t-shirt that has faded to that grayish black and has lots of holes in it from being washed excessively. It's an old shirt I creeped from an old college boyfriend and it says "SECURITY" on it. For many years, it had just wound up in my closet as that t-shirt you wear to sleep. Somehow, it wound up in this bag. And now, he's going to give it to his parents. Because. I have no earthly idea why. What will they do with an old ripped shirt?!? I used to have one that said "FUCKER" on it (from a different college boyfriend) and if I find that one, they can have it because I HAVE TO see one of them wearing it. That would totally make my day.

But it just seems odd to give them old clothes they will likely never ever wear. Perhaps they could make rags with these old things, but they won't. They will use the same dirty rag over and over without ever washing it once we go. Jeremy and I wash our rags every week. I bet they will never get washed again once we move. Would my FIL actually WEAR any of these old shirts? He wears this one shirt of Jeremy's. OMG. I need to tell you about that.

HOW did I NOT tell you guys?!? About 3 years ago, MIL bought a decent shirt for Jeremy. It's a Tommy Hilfiger. It may or may not be a fake but if it is a fake, it is a darned good one. I was stunned that she'd picked out something that wasn't fug. Anyway, here is the shirt in question...

 This was on our 2nd anniversary, incidentally.

We had left Raelynn with the trolls so we could go out to a nice Thai restaurant.

Anyway, I hadn't seen this shirt in Jeremy's side of the wardrobe in ages. I had been wondering about it. I think he'd been wondering about it too. Guess what happened to it? His dad took it. No, really. He took it. I checked and checked the closet. So did Jeremy. This was not a case of his mom buying her husband the same thing. No, he randomly took it at some point. Why? We have no idea. When I ask Jeremy about this, he just laughs and laughs. Maybe because he can't explain it either. Now every time FIL wears the shirt over here, we laugh hysterically. It's just bizarre.

So maybe they will wear our old, ripped, outdated clothes. Or they'll just shove them in the cupboards and we'll find them when we come back to China to sell the properties or, his parents, whichever comes first.

Well This Explains A Lot...

I think it was Friday evening when my husband said he was going to go get his hair cut. In China, it's easy for a man to go run out down the street and find somebody with a chair out on the sidewalk snipping away on some dullard's hair. Jeremy usually comes back with a decent enough trim though I wish he'd go to a stylist sometimes because seriously, these people can never seem to even out his sideburns. But alas, my pleas for obtaining a normal haircut fall on deaf ears.

Thankfully, I've never been subjected to such heinous hair torture here. Quite the opposite.

Jeremy returned rather quickly. More quickly than usual when seeking out a random street haircut. That's because with Chinese New Year just about upon us, most street vendors have hauled ass back to where they came from. No one is really around (though traffic today would have you think otherwise). MIL was still at our house that evening (don't ask...she's like a bad rash that just won't quit) and apparently, she suggested to Jeremy that he let his father cut his hair.

You see where this is going, don't you? When he translated this to me, I about peed in my pants from laughter. Oh yes! Let your father cut your hair. This should be good. I looked over at MIL and I thought, My God. THAT is why her hair looks like that, isn't it? Now I kind of feel sorry for her. That poor woman has probably never once ever in her life had even a hint of a flattering haircut. I mean, just look at her!

She'd look better if she cut her hair with a Flowbee for crying out loud!

Now I know you all are just dying to see what Jeremy's hair looks like, aren't you? Well first, here's how he looked before he allowed his father to cut his hair...

Before...and now...presenting...

After...

 Lord! It's a good thing he's so handsome. FIL apparently used an electric razor and sporadically sheared away Jeremy's hair. Lucky for him, his hair grows faster than weeds so he won't have to look so off for too long.

What? You don't think it's so bad? Please, come see it from the side, won't you?

Uh, yeah. So next time, he's going for a real haircut. This is what happens when you cheap out on things, silly husband!

Strangeness Afoot

Last weekend, Jeremy had one of his weekly soccer games. I know it sounds nuts, but when he told me he'd be home around 2pm and he wasn't back yet, I felt like something was wrong. It's not far from our home and when he says he'll be done by a certain time, he always is. If he were to go somewhere afterward with his teammates, he would have called.

He comes in 30 minutes later, hobbling. He hurt himself again. Remember the last time? Except this time, he wasn't whiny. He was playing it off like it was fine. He had a business dinner to attend that night and he didn't want to gimp out on it, pardon the pun.

But this time, it seemed like he did much more than just sprain it. He hit his heel bone and detecting fractures there can be a bit more tricky. To be sure, an x-ray is needed. I tried my best to check him out, thinking of what my radiologist father would do. There was no swelling or bruising. He could rotate his ankle without pain. But if he tried to stand on the injured foot, he could not do it. I feared it was broken but told him that an x-ray would tell us for sure.

He went to the hospital alone, despite my pleadings to assist him. He didn't want me to be stuck in the unkempt hospital for an undetermined amount of time with Raelynn or Seoul. Lord knows that would have been a nightmare. So we waited at home for him to return.

After about 4 hours, he's back, with a plaster cast.

"So it is broken then?" I ask, feeling sorry for him.
"I don't know," he tells me.
"Um, but you have a cast on your foot. That generally means it's broken," I declare.
"No, they couldn't read the x-ray and then they wanted to charge me 300 yuan more to do some other scan and then..." and he keeps explaining but I'm stunned. I'm still stuck on the part where they couldn't read the x-ray. I say so and he agrees. "Well, that's why I got the plaster, because I need to stay off it anyway and if it is broken then I don't want to pay 300 more yuan AND get plaster on it. They're just trying to scam me by making me take more tests," he says. I completely agree.

In China, it's really very common for them to push useless tests, medicine or treatment onto you. I consider myself very lucky to have had Dr. Wang deliver both my children because she's one of the few competent doctors here. Too bad she isn't a radiologist. At the very beginning of my pregnancy with Seoul, I'd gone for a check-up on a day that Dr. Wang happened to have off. There was another doctor in there and we went ahead with the ultrasound. The ultrasound tech said the baby looked good and healthy. Here, they do not give you giant print-outs of your ultrasound like they do in the US. They print it very small on regular printer paper. So imagine our surprise when this doctor tells us, after briefly glancing at the tiny picture, that there's blood in my uterus and we need to buy this medicine for it.

She kept trying to bully us into it and scare us, but we're no fools. We didn't cave into her extortion and we did not ever, not even once, see her again after that throughout all our check-ups at the hospital. Thank goodness. I hope she was fired. We had briefly considered changing hospitals because of it but I wouldn't hear of having anyone but Dr. Wang deliver my 2nd child.

Anyway, back to Jeremy's foot. The most fascinating part of all of this was how they told him they couldn't read the x-ray. So I asked him to explain about that. And he said they told him it was too blurry. He'd need some other kind of a scan "to be sure." He was trying to tell me the name of the scan but he wasn't making sense. Sometimes, we get lost in translation. I'm thinking maybe he meant a CAT scan but whatever scan they wanted was definitely unnecessary. How is an x-ray too blurry? I've never heard of that before. Like ever. Perhaps this kind of bullshit works on the uneducated masses of China, but it doesn't work on my educated husband. Or his wife, the daughter of a radiologist.

So to avoid paying 300 rmb more to be told for sure if it was broken or not, he just got the cast. His thinking was that if it was broken, he's saved us 300 rmb because they'd just put a cast on it if it was. And if it's not, well, the cast will help him from putting pressure on it and causing him more pain.

The next day, we got some good news - it wasn't broken! The morons somehow figured out how to read the x-ray. I swear I'm not making this up. This kind of stuff could only happen in China. What infuriates me the most, I mean besides so-called medical professionals trying to fleece us for more money, is that they must do this to so many people who have no earthly idea what's what. And no one stops this. They just allow people who are supposed to care for the sick and injured to con them out of more money. What bastards.

Our story ends well - Jeremy got his cast off and his foot is feeling much better.

For Lord knows what reason, he brought home the cast after they cut his foot out of it. Maybe so I could blog about it.

My Powdered Husband

This morning after Raelynn left for the park with MIL (who has gotten over being angry at her son for no reason), Jeremy and I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. He'll be hanging around the house today because he's leaving for Guangzhou tomorrow. While he's still home and before I am stuck with 2 children under the age of 5 all by myself (with some cooking interruptions from MIL of course), I thought I'd ask him to help me with a few things.

One of those things was refilling the baby powder bottle.

See, here in China, they mostly sell baby powder in tubs, like this:

Do they do this in the US? Or in any other Western country? Please, tell me if they do because when I left America, I did not have kids and therefore was not purchasing baby powder.

I hate these tubs because they come with a little powder puff, like the kind you'd get when you buy face powder make-up. You're supposed to use the puff and dab it into a big bowl of powder, which you hope you don't tip over and spill everywhere while you try to powder up your wriggling baby's buns. It's really the stupidest product design I've ever seen. I'm astonished this exists.

This bottle design makes much more sense. These are much harder to find over here. In fact, we were overjoyed to find it because we'd been stuck buying the tubs of powder for a while.

But now it was empty and we of course couldn't find another bottle. So, we kept this one and bought a tub of powder. The idea was to pour the powder from the tub into the bottle. The twist top is difficult to remove so I asked Jeremy if he'd mind helping me.

He set right to work and I lay on our bed nursing a very sleepy Seoul who ate and slept through this whole thing.

Suddenly, I hear a muffled pop. And then a cascade of powder rains down upon our room. Most of it on my husband.

Hahaha! Oh my poor sweet Jeremy! At least he was just as amused as I was. And now he smells lovely. Hey, it's better than baby spit-up, right?

What's extra funny about this is that while he was working on this little project, I was telling him an interesting anecdote from my childhood. When I was a little girl around Raelynn's age or perhaps just a wee bit older, I woke in the middle of the night and took the baby powder and powdered my whole room. I remember doing it too. I don't know what possessed me to do it. I just clearly remember waking up, taking the powder and dousing my whole room with it.

What I did not know at the time of the powdering was that my older brother, Phillip, had apparently done the very same thing when he was little. Except he also powdered our dachshund, Snoopy. Poor Snoopy.

Raelynn's only taken the tubs of powder and powdered her hands and face, like a Chinese opera star. I should have photographed that but I was more concerned that she'd taken a chair and used it to climb up to the shelf that the powder had been on. Oh they grow up way too fast!

Oh, The Irony!

As a wife and mother, I absolutely adore watching my husband interact with our children.

Like today for example. While I was hanging up our laundry to dry, Jeremy was laying on the bed with a cooing Seoul sitting on his chest. I smiled as I hung up our freshly-washed clothes, watching Jeremy play with our 2nd daughter, and watching him fall more and more in love with her. It was a very sweet sight.

And a sweet sound. He was talking to her as she cooed at him.
"P.U.! You're so chou!" he said.

"Chou" is Chinese for "smell" by the way. In case you were wondering. We often mix our languages in the sentences we speak. It's just how we roll.

Anyway, he continues gabbing away:
"You smell like milk. No, more like cheese. You know, I love dairy products."

My back was turned toward them at this time, so imagine my surprise and amusement when I hear a vurp-like sound of regurgitation, followed by an "Aughhhhhhhhhhhh!" I drop the clothes I was about the hang up and whirl around to discover that Seoul, who is a most kind, sweet and apparently generous baby, has decided to share her dairy products with her daddy who has just proclaimed his love for them by spitting up some of it. It almost landed in his mouth. Almost.

Isn't it ironic? Dontcha think? Ha!

I hurry and grab wet wipes from the counter so I can mop up the curdled milk globs from Jeremy's chin. And of course, I'm laughing away, pointing out the irony of the situation to him. "I love dairy products," I mimic and even he can't stop laughing.

Though I can't help but wonder how my husband feels about dairy products now.

Unfortunately, I didn't get a photo of the incident but here's a couple of Jeremy and Seoul being cute together.

Batteries Not Included

If you've ever read my blog and wondered, "Does her husband read the stuff she writes about his mother?" The answer to that question is yes. But he doesn't read everything. He does know it exists though and he's happy to let me have an outlet to express myself through rather than have me blow up and yell in his mom's face. Or worse, club her in the head with the frying pan, which, let me tell you, is incredibly tempting.

Of course, if you've read this blog for a while, you know I don't just write about her. Living in China, there's so much to write about. And being married to a Chinese man gives me so much to write about as well. So this post is about my husband, who won't be thrilled I'm writing about him but I hope he'll laugh at himself a little too. Like when he poked himself in the eye with a piece of spinach as he was trying to eat it. But that's a story for another time.

See, I tease my husband about being cheap. Jeremy does not want you to think he's a cheapskate. And I'm not just saying this for his benefit should he chose to sit down and read this particular post but he's NOT a cheapskate. But I'll be damned if he doesn't pick the absolute most random things to suddenly tighten up the wallet on.

Batteries, for instance.

You'll recall that we recently bought that wonderful chair for Seoul. It has a compartment to house one of those big batteries so it can vibrate. When you turn on the chair, it vibrates your sweet-but-noisy baby into blissful sleep quite quickly. Of course, the vibrating drains the battery almost as quickly as it lulls your kid to sleep. I figured that out the first week, so I started shutting off the vibrate button once I was sure Seoul was soundly sleeping. Normally, I wouldn't have cared but Jeremy got angry about the battery. "Those batteries are 5 yuan each!" he cried. He refused to change the battery and told me to just rock the baby in the chair. Which takes much longer than vibrating, incidentally. 

I can dig it that we shouldn't be going through batteries that cost 5 yuan a piece more quickly than toilet paper but I think it's time to change that battery, says the poor exhausted mommy who has been rocking an infant to sleep all night. Just when she thinks said infant is asleep and she sneaks back into the bed, that's when the crying begins again. Thankfully, Jeremy has found a solution that pleases us both. He's ordered a rechargeable battery for the chair off TaoBao, China's answer to shopping online. Now he won't complain about the 5 yuan batteries and I can actually get a break. It should be here in a few days. Yay!

But the chair and its' battery consumption isn't the only battery-operated item in our home that Jeremy had become concerned about. The other one was our new digital scale. I usually hate scales but was rather pleased he'd bought it (also from TaoBao) because I want to see exactly how much weight I'm losing post-baby. So today, I went to check out my weight and the scale wouldn't come on. Did the batteries go already? No. At least not in the way I'd fathomed. Jeremy had REMOVED them. Yes, really. He took them out and put them in the cabinet.

Why?
"This way, they will last a year," he proclaims. And I just stare at him. How is this little bathroom scale going to burn through batteries so rapidly that it would impact our budget? I can understand the chair batteries on some level but 2 double A batteries?!? So now every time I want to check my weight, I have to go dig these out of the cabinet and put them in first. It's not like we stand on the scale all day, every day!

The good news is the scale did say I'd lost another kilogram. That makes me happy, though not as happy as I will be when I finally get a rest while the battery does all the hard work in the chair.

Aughhhhhhhhhhhh!

Let's start this post off with an adorable picture of Seoul. Along with a warning: if you don't want to read about babies or poop, check out one of my other posts. If you can handle it, proceed.

I love the sweet moments I get to enjoy with Seoul when I'm breastfeeding her. Today, after a feeding, Seoul had drifted off to sleep on top of our bed. She looked so peaceful and angelic and Jeremy and I were marveling over what a darling little baby she was.

Suddenly, she awoke and cried, and I realized I'd better burp her. She's a spit-up baby though and my shirt took a direct hit.My husband held her as I changed my shirt and then I took her back. We sat on the bed, her in my lap making cute little baby faces at me. We were laughing at her and enjoying her cuteness. And I started talking about some friends from church who had just come back from a summer in the states. They  have 3 girls together; the youngest is 6 or 7 months now. We hadn't seen them in a while so the baby was so much bigger when we saw them the other day. I was telling Jeremy just how gorgeous that baby was. She has such a big, happy smile and as I was describing Baby Jubilee for him, our very own Baby Seoul decided she wasn't going to let another cute baby steal the spotlight.

THRRRRIPPPPPPPPPTHHHHHHHHHHHHSPLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!!!!!

I stop mid-sentence and stare down. I cannot even believe it. I've been holding Seoul upright in my lap so she won't spit up some more and this is the thanks I get. It comes out the other end. In an explosive way. Even more explosive than the first pooping incident. She has effectively shat out one of the leg holes and right onto my shorts. AND my leg. God, there is SO much on my leg! AND onto her blanket. AND even beyond the perimeter of her entire blanket, right onto our bedding. AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

I scream in terror as I look down at the mess that is now covering me and the surrounding areas. No, Seoul! No! Bad baby! You're only supposed to poop on Daddy, Grandma or Grandpa. Or even Uncle Phillip. But never on Papa, Mimi or Aunt Kimmy. And especially never on Mommy!

My husband, who has witnessed this whole gruesome scene, is torn between laughing hysterically and helping me. I'm afraid to move for fear of spreading the poop even further. It's up to him to hand me wet wipes until I've mopped up enough to free myself from the disaster area. Once I've done that, I now must act quickly to save us all. I hose off quickly in the shower and prepare a bath for that little cute-but-evil-pooper. I also throw the pooped on items into the laundry, along with some other items that are ready for the washing machine (because now I am ALWAYS on laundry duty). And somehow, I manage to get this vile mess remedied.

Jeremy is still laughing. Hell, if it happened to him, I wouldn't have stopped laughing either. He then brings up an excellent point...it's my fault if I last changed the diaper. I didn't close it up good enough. And then I realize...this is all my husband's fault! The last diaper change she'd had before this incident, I was in the bathroom and heard Jeremy talking about her making a poop and talking to her as he changed her. So he is the incompetent diaper-changer. Not me. He also has the stupidest habit, which I've seen his parents also do so I can only assume he picked this up from them (or other idiotic Chinese people), of pulling out the side of the leg hole to see if there's a poop. These diapers actually have a yellow stripe on the outside and when it's soiled, that stripe turns blue. And is it THAT much more work to open up the tabs real quick and take a peek? Ugh! Here's hoping the next poop-tastrophe happens to him or my in-laws.

P.U. That Stinks!

The other day, my husband and I had an interesting discussion. It began as he took the pillowcases off our pillows. “Are you doing the laundry?” I ask him. Of course he’s not but I’m curious as to why he’s doing this, especially since I washed those badboys a few days ago. But! He DOES say we need to clean them. They need “fresh air” he explains. And as he says this, he opens our windows on a particularly smoggy day to hang them outside. To freshen them up.

Please let this sink in for just a moment. Now, you all know I love Jeremy with all my heart. And while he’s a very smart man, he will do random things like this that make me want to hit myself in the face with a brick because NO ONE should believe this is ok. It’s not. And I know who taught him this. You do too. My in-laws! And it’s not even their fault because the government here issued a statement about how smog is GOOD for you. I’m not even joking. Click here if you don't believe me.

I tried my hardest to explain to him that our pillowcases (as well as the rest of our bedding) had just been washed. “But they need to be out in the sun!” he declares, like they’re some poor children who have been locked away from society for decades and are desperate to play hide and seek in the garden. And with that, he takes our 2 remaining clamps for hanging laundry outside (MIL broke or dropped the 20 we had when first moved here and although I told this to Jeremy dozens of times, he acts surprised now that there are only 2 to work with now) and he puts our pillowcases out in the “fresh” China air.

He tells me they need an hour in the sun. I should also mention that because it was smoggy, there really wasn’t much sun out there. I tried to explain this but was told we MUST do this for our health. I give up. I bite my lip to try not to laugh because this is my life and it’s just hilarious sometimes that my husband’s bizarre cultural upbringing gives us moments like this.

An hour passes and Jeremy retrieves the pillowcases from outside. I’m sitting on our bed nursing Seoul. He tosses our pillowcases over to me. And I get a whiff. GOD. WTF is that smell?!? I shit you not, it smells as though an old man went running and wiped his sweaty ass with our pillowcases. In fact, had I not been sitting in our bedroom this entire time, I sincerely would have suspected that’s just what happened. But no. THAT is what happens when you hang something outside to dry or air-out in China. How exactly is that healthy for us? Back home, I always used a dryer for my clothes but on the few occasions I did hang something outside, it never once smelled worse after washing and drying it than when it was in the dirty laundry pile in the first place. Here, dryers are expensive and although we can afford one, we have no room for it in our home. So I hang everything to dry but INSIDE. Because I KNOW how it smells when you hang something outside. When we first moved here, the first time I washed our sheets and blankets, I was treated to this horrible stench because I had nowhere else to hang these things but outside. And 4 years ago, we weren’t getting such bad smog in Qingdao. Now it’s even worse.

Of course, I made a big stink (pun absolutely intended) about the way our pillowcases now reeked. And I promptly put them back into the laundry basket. They’ve since been washed and have been drying happily inside our home. And just so you know, they still smell like Tide. Not like old man armpits, thankyouverymuch.

What Were You Thinking?!?

My husband is hanging his hypothetical tail between his legs this evening. Poor Jeremy...what's he done to incur Jennifer's wrath? He INVITED his mother over during dinner. Not to eat - she would never even try anything I cook (yet I am constantly being forced to eat her vomitous creations and expected to smile  about it) - but to "relieve your burden" while you cook your Friday night dinner. Say what?!?

See, we have an agreement. She comes Monday through Thursday to cook us dinner (if you can even call the slop she makes a proper meal such as dinner). And in the mornings during weekdays, she comes to pick up Raelynn and take her to the park so I can catch up on the sleep I missed while nursing Seoul half the night and enjoy a little bit of quiet before my chatterbox toddler returns. She's not supposed to come Friday nights or at all on any part of the weekend. Ever.

But Jeremy invited her tonight. He apologized, saying he felt he had to because she just wanted to help. Help what? Help me blow my fuse? Sure, have that old bag come on over and gabble on and on about dumb shit and make clicking noises at my precious baby while I cook dinner and resist the urge to stab her with the knives or bang the frying pan repeatedly upside her head.

And let's not kid ourselves that she'd be relieving my burden. She enhanced it. Raelynn threw a tantrum and instead of being useful and helpful during this time, she just sat there with the baby. The baby was sleeping. You could have put her in her crib or even her awesome new chair (which you better not break or I will totally break your face) but no. I know why you really came over, you manipulative cow. You didn't want to help me. You wanted to help yourself to holding the baby. You always do shit like this and I have to smile and pretend it's ok even though if I want nothing more than to tell you to go away. I have to be polite to make my husband happy. I have honored what my end of the agreement - to be polite and not scream at you (in any language). But I always find myself being taken advantage of because you push and manipulate your son and then he feels obligated to bend the rules for you. And now he realizes how much that sucks for me as I start crying while making him something truly delicious - chicken breasts stuffed with garlic herb cheese served with linguini and caper sauce - not the kind of crap you make that I wouldn't even serve to our family dog back home. He knows it's unfair and yet because you're "old" you play that card all the time. At least he has enough sense to make it up to me by taking me out to do something I want to do, taking over one of my Mommy chores, buying me something shiny or preventing you from putting us in this awkward position in the future. Hopefully he'll do all those things. In the meantime, I pray every single day that I will be able to move my little family of 4 far away from you.

The Chair! The Chair!

Today, I am a happy mommy. Our new Fisher Price bouncy lounger chair is here. That means I can (hopefully) get more done around here. No more crying baby while I'm about to turn on the stove. Or while I'm mid-saute and now must turn off what I was making for lunch to attend to a wailing infant. No more jumping up from the table to rock, sing and dance sleep back into a baby.

I'm thrilled I can finally put Seoul in this chair and move her wherever I happen to be. Putting away laundry? No problem! Cooking in the kitchen? Come on in! Playing with Raelynn? Come watch us from your comfy little chair.

It even vibrates which sends her right off into sleepy-land. We had such a nice lunch today, thanks to this chair. I was able to eat my food while it was still hot! AND! I was able to eat until I was full...not just a few bites before I was forced into starvation-mode like I was last night - which was actually fine because MIL cooked and she made us burnt burgers which I sadly didn't get a chance to photograph because I was busy rocking a baby in my arms for HOURS.

I would also like to add that my husband put this thing together. Thanks, Honey! The instructions were in English and Chinese. He claims he read everything but he put the canvas for the chair (which has a lion on it that's hard to see since Seoul is laying on it) on upside down. He also managed to make the entire chair lopsided. I discovered that he'd extended one leg in the back and not the other. Oh Jeremy! I love you anyway!

The Story Of Seoul

They say every birth is different. Just like every person is different. Man, they sure weren't kidding! If you need a refresher on how Raelynn came into the world, click here. You may also want to read about how MIL made me nuts right after coming home from the hospital so click here too.

This is how our sweet little Seoul came into the world...

On Monday, July 14th, you'll no doubt recall my last meal of grossness served up by MIL. On that day, I'd been having false labor signs. Braxton Hicks contractions. I knew it wasn't baby time because they kept disappearing when I'd get up and move around. They also came with no regularity or increase in frequency. The only thing that ever remained the same was the duration of each contraction: just one minute. It was unpleasant and uncomfortable but before I could really complain, it would vanish and I'd be fine for hours before another one would come up.

That night, I took a nice, hot shower and tried to relax. I figured my body was gearing up for the big moment and I should take it easy. I went to bed early but around 1am, I woke up to a contraction. And this one was VERY different. It was more painful than the others had been. Plus, it began in the lower back and shot through my abdomen. But again, it only lasted one minute. I fell back asleep and 30 or so minutes later, I felt the same thing. I thought about waking Jeremy but I wanted to be sure before I set us into pre-baby-panic-mode. So I watched the clock. And the next hour? 2 contractions again. Maybe I'm crazy. I watched another hour go by with the same results. I knew then that this kid was getting ready to come out.

It was 3am. The other thing I knew was that if we did go to the hospital right then, they'd only tell me to try to get some sleep first. So I tried to get some sleep in the comfort of our home. It was a futile attempt. But my contractions only became 25 minutes apart and didn't increase in length or pain so I knew we had time.

Early in the morning, about 6:30am, Jeremy woke up to use the bathroom. That's when I told him. He called the hospital to let Dr. Wang know but she was already in surgery delivering another baby. They told us we should start getting over to the hospital as soon as we could. Jeremy then called his parents. I hugged and kissed Raelynn, still a bit terrified of delivering the baby inside me and hoping that I would make it out alive to see her again.

We rounded up our bags and spent time with Raelynn before MIL arrived. After a tearful goodbye with Raelynn, we were off. The hospital isn't that far away but since it was now rush hour on Tuesday, July 15th, we were stuck in traffic for an hour. I had 3 contractions in the car during that time, much more painful than before.

When we finally arrived at the hospital, we hurried into Dr. Wang's office. She had changed from her surgery garb and looked as though she was expecting us. She wanted to run a few tests first so we had them done. She was trying to check the scar tissue from my first c-section to see if there would be any problems. When we'd seen her during our last check-up over the previous weekend, she'd told me not to eat or drink anything at least 4 hours before my c-section. I hadn't even had a drop of water since bedtime and now the ultrasound tech was being a bitch because she said I didn't have enough in my bladder for her to see well enough. She was urging me to go drink more water even though the doctor told me not to. Moron. On top of that, I had to pee so badly I seriously thought I was going to lose control of my bladder during that scan.

We went back to Dr. Wang and as we spoke to her, I had a horrible contraction. I gripped the back of one of the chairs in her office and she then ordered her assistant to send us up to check into our room and prep for surgery. Off we went. Jeremy was excited because our room was a lucky number in Chinese: 618. He said this was a very good sign. I just cried and cried because I was scared and excited all at once. Plus, I was finally allowed to pee and the bathrooms in the hospital rooms are soooooooooooooooo much nicer than the bathroom you can use on the first floor.

No sooner than I get in there, my husband runs back to the car to get our bags and nurses begin to file in to prep me for surgery. Even though I'm scared, I know this is best for me now because I'd been in labor since the wee hours of the morning and wasn't even dilated yet. Another long labor would await me if I didn't go through with my planned c-section.

A gurney comes in. Some hospital clothes. I smell rubbing alcohol and I begin to panic. The nurses are all very nice despite the language barrier. They speak limited English but they try to comfort me. Another woman comes in with forms she wants me to sign. I can't read them because they're in Chinese and Jeremy snaps at her about that. He handles the forms while I'm prepped and moved onto the gurney.

They take my blood and I cry at the sting of pain. I'm so scared now. I'm dreading this. This sucks. Why does giving birth have to suck so fucking much, I wonder. Then, they start wheeling me down the hall. I scream for Jeremy who runs alongside, trying to comfort me. We ride the elevator to where the operating rooms are. It's very sterile, which is reassuring, but also terrifying at the same time. I don't want my husband to leave me. They tell him he has to dress in scrubs if he's going to come into the OR and they assure me not to worry. Into the OR I go. It's much more freaky than I remember from Raelynn's birth. There are about 5 people in there prepping everything, speaking to me in halting English and all I can do is cry. The anesthesiologist is very nice, and desperate to calm me down so she can issue the epidural. She pats my head and tells me not to cry and to please lay on my side. Please don't move, she tells me as she rubs something cold along my spine. Suddenly, the OR doors open and I hope it's my husband. It's not but the person who I see makes me sigh with great relief. It's Dr. Wang. I feel so much better seeing her there. Her English is much better than her team's. I ask for my husband and she tells me she's worried he will become sick if he sees the surgery. She says it will be okay because she can talk to me in English which was really the only valid reason for my husband coming in.

Dr. Wang sees the panic in my eyes and she tells me quite kindly not to worry about anything. She does this every day, many times a day. I'm in good hands. I know this. It's exactly why I wanted her to deliver this baby just like she did with Raelynn.

The epidural takes effect and I cannot feel my legs. At all. It's so weird. They have a mask ready in case I need to be knocked out completely but I don't want it. There's a large canvas draped over the rest of my body. I can't see anything that is happening to me which is a huge relief. I can only feel a slight little tugging. It doesn't hurt. It just feels very strange. The anesthesiologist stays by my head. She tells me if I feel anything and want to sleep to tell her. I look about the room wildly. I hate this. I want it to end.

And suddenly, WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! There's my baby! I remember hearing Raelynn when she was born but I was so foggy from the anesthesia it was part of my drugged out trip. As this baby cries, I say, "My baby! It's my baby!" "Yes," I hear Dr. Wang say. "Everything is very good." "It's a girl, right?" I ask her, hoping and praying that what they'd told me months ago hadn't been to just make me happy. "Yes, it's a girl," Dr. Wang tells me. THANK GOD.

I begin to relax now. My baby is alive and well. It is not a boy, no offense to the moms I know with boys. I'm just so relieved to have another girl. I can see her being carted off into the corner to my left as 3 people from Dr. Wang's team clean her up. I just want to look at her but I know I have to be stitched back up. This part took a while but I remember reading that about c-sections. It seemed like seconds when I had Raelynn only because of the drugs. Now I wondered how long it was taking as Dr. Wang closed me up. I also felt warm. It felt like forever, and again, the anesthesiologist told me that she could put me to sleep if I wanted to be out. I just told her I felt warm and wished they could take the canvas off of me so I'd feel cooler.

And then it was over. They counted: yi, er, san! And lifted me off the operating table and back onto my gurney and out I went. There was my husband, overjoyed and crying with relief. We all went back into the room. I was moved into my bed and had my vitals checked out yet again. I was so much more with it this time though it truly freaked me out that I seriously could not feel my legs. I tried to wiggle my toes and nothing. They told me it would be fine soon and that I had to lay flat for 6 hours. On this hard, awful hospital bed. But the good news was they were handing me my little baby. My sweet Seoul Susie Qu.

It's no wonder they use babies that are 3 to 6 months old in movies, TV shows and commercials. You know why, right? Because newborns are so tiny and scrawny. They're wrinkly and honestly, look like little old men. But we love them anyway, don't we? I loved Seoul when I saw her too. Later I would learn the downside to marrying a man that makes me laugh so much...it truly sucks to have a funny husband when you've had a c-section. Laughing hurts. He called Seoul "Grandpa Face" and I thought I was going to die from the pain the laughter caused.

 Grandpa Face! Hahahahaha!

I breastfed my little angel quite easily and breathed a sigh of relief. Now we were over the other side of the wall. Now the recovery begins.

I hate hospitals. I always have. I've never had to stay in a hospital in the US so I can only relate what it's like here in China. I'm sure it's very different than the states so for those of you that have gone through a c-section back home, I'd love to hear from you in the comments about what your experience was like in the hospital. It would be neat to compare.

In China, you must bring your own towels, toilet paper, soap, and all sorts of things you'd never think about bringing in the US. They did supply us with a gift bag that included my hospital pajamas, those shitty kind of diapers you know I hate from when Raelynn was a newborn, and some other stuff which impressively included soap, a plastic soap dish and even a roll of toilet paper. Wow, they're stepping up their game, I remember thinking.

My room had 2 hospital beds in it because it's typical your spouse or a family member will stay with you to assist you. Nurses are for changing IVs and administering shots. But NOT emptying your catheter bag! Jeremy had to empty it out. You know your husband loves you very much when he dumps out bags of your pee for you. He also helped me to the bathroom when the catheter was removed. They'd given me many IVs during my stay but one of the last ones I got was some sort of nutrient and I had to keep it elevated so Jeremy had to come with me to the bathroom.

We also had one nurse tell Jeremy that HE had to change the sheets on my bed for me. This was when I still had the catheter in and couldn't get up. I felt gross and needed my mattress guard and sheets changed. Fortunately, another nurse came in and took care of it, Jeremy only being asked to offer minimal assistance in helping me roll over.

The first 2 days in the hospital, it seemed like every 5 minutes, someone was knocking on our door to come in for this or that. Just as I'd start falling asleep, someone would knock. It was highly irritating. I would have been even more annoyed that first day when my in-laws showed up if not for the sight of my precious Raelynn. I was so happy to see her little face and so grateful to visit with her.

In addition to the constant interruptions by the staff, the air conditioning became an issue. They'd turned it off in our room. Jeremy flipped out on my behalf. I was in pain and sweating and I couldn't sleep. AT ALL. The night nurse was a huge pain in the ass about this, saying that 26 Celcius was a fine temperature. My husband yelled that we'd paid 10,000 rmb for our room and on top of that, I was a foreign person. I remember hearing him yell that I felt sick because of the heat. It was true. Finally in the morning, they sorted out the air conditioning issue and it stayed at a nice 22 Celcius the rest of our stay. I was also given an extra shot of pain medicine and I was finally able to fall asleep.

The bed was another horrible problem for me. Because I've never had to stay in a US hospital, I have nothing to compare it to. But I felt like my back was becoming worse because of this bed. The mattress was very thin and on top of a metal frame. I tried to roll on my sides but because of the surgery it was so painful to do so. After a few days, that pain got better but my hips now ached from the metal frame of the bed. As you can probably imagine, it was a very happy moment for me when I was told I could go home the next morning.

 You can see here what the hospital bed looks like. Jeremy's bed is identical to mine. Look at that thin mattress!

 So we went in on a Tuesday morning and we got to leave on a Saturday morning. MIL kept her promise to me about bringing Raelynn, which I'm very grateful for. She brought her every day. Even though she dressed her in the same clothes every day. Even underwear. She said she bathed her but Raelynn stunk (and of course, so did my in-laws - like they always do). I couldn't wait to wash her when we got home so she'd smell nice again.

Speaking of the in-laws, let's talk about them since I know you're dying to know about that, aren't you? Of course you are! That's why you read this blog, isn't it?

I was relieved that my in-laws didn't kill Raelynn while they watched her. They told me Raelynn cried all the time for me, which made me feel bad. She must have really hated having them watch her the whole time. Sorry, my sweet! They didn't touch the window in her room either, so I have to hand it to them for listening to my wishes in that regard. On Friday, my husband ran his parents and Raelynn home in the car so he could get my passport. We needed it to make Seoul's birth certificate. We have to present this at the US Embassy so we can get a report for a consular birth abroad. Jeremy was worried to ask his parents to bring my passport. He thought they might lose it or forget to lock up the drawer we keep it in and Raelynn would destroy it and the other important documents housed in there.

When he returned, I asked him how our house looked. He made a face and I knew. But before I could cry, he promised me he would clean it up. When we actually got home on Saturday morning, I thought I was going to see the aftermath of a tornado. But it wasn't as bad as I was expecting. The kitchen was a royal zoo but I chose not to get too angry because, for one, Jeremy promised to clean it all himself, and for another, MIL was in there actively cooking a big welcome home lunch. Never mind that it wasn't anything I wanted to eat but it was nice of her. The other mess was FIL's fault. Raelynn's toys were everywhere and he refused to act like a grown up and tell her to clean it. I pulled her aside and talked to her about the mess. Then I told her to have Grandpa help her. He was shocked that she would listen to me and clean up. I was shocked that he would let her tell him no when he asked her to do something. That's one of the things that bothers me so much about my in-laws. They don't realize how much more damaging it is to let her have her way like that.

 Those are just some of the hard boiled eggs she made for me. She also made me another big bowl of xifan. This kind of xifan looks a lot like baby poop. Especially how she made it. She should have used more water. The food was gross but it was nice to drink again.

 Raelynn is so happy to have us home. Look at that face! I love her! And look at that food - gross!

Soon, the floors were cleaned up, toys were in their right place and my husband had poured me a glass of wine. I was feeling better and enjoying being home, even if we had to have lunch with his parents. After eating, FIL went home and MIL and Jeremy cleaned up the kitchen. Then MIL spent some time holding the baby. After a while though. My husband hopped on his computer and just ignored that his mother was here in our living room, doing nothing but staring into space. I hate when she does that. There's no reason for you to be here now. Thank you for lunch. Thank you for taking care of Raelynn. It is 1:30pm. We aren't eating dinner until 6:30pm. PLEASE GO HOME. I calmly explained to Jeremy that THIS is something that gets on my nerves about his mother so he politely told her to leave and we'd see her later. That made me so happy. This house is just too small to have someone I don't need sitting around taking up space on the couch to be sitting around taking up space on the couch.

For dinner, she came back and made better food. WAY better food. She had these roasted chicken legs that were delicious. She must have bought them somewhere. There's no way she could make something that good. She also made steamed clams again. And the obligatory xifan. And she didn't overstay her welcome into the evening. She cooked. She cleaned. She held the baby. She kissed Raelynn goodnight before I read her stories. And then, she went home! Amazing!

Now I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth but here's the stuff my in-laws fucked up: the closet door in Raelynn's room. FIL busted it off the track. God only knows why he would do such a thing. Derp. The kitchen sink. It was leaking again! Lord knows we had enough problems with that sink. But, it turned out something got knocked loose with the faucet and Jeremy was able to tighten it himself. Still, I'm not surprised. We had so many sink problems because MIL just bangs the big pans and cutting boards into it without a care in the world.

Also, someone, I'm guessing MIL, stored a bag of eggplant in the kitchen cabinets. Instead of the refrigerator. I went into the cabinet today to get some flour and I smelled something foul. I nominated Jeremy to check it out and he made the grisly discovery. I'd also found a bag of eggplant and carrots on the side of the refrigerator today. Fortunately, those were not rotten and I put them in the fridge. Why she does this IN SUMMER when EVERYTHING you leave out rots is beyond me. Especially when there is so much room inside that fridge!

Ok...now something nice...something nice. FIL cleaned our fish tank and it looks great. He also deep-cleaned our air conditioner in our bedroom and now it's ice-cold in here. That was nice and helpful. We can run it on low and it cools our whole room, not to mention the living room when we have the sliding door open.

Yesterday was Sunday, our 2nd day at home. And my husband had told his parents not to come. Never on Sundays. But I was truly dreading today, Monday. I worried she'd come at the crack of dawn, making more hard boiled eggs than we could ever eat. Which is a Chinese tradition when you have a baby. Your family makes hard boiled eggs and gives them to everyfuckingone they see. But when your Chinese MIL gives you too many hard boiled eggs, you make deviled eggs, which is just what I did for dinner last night. Jeremy went nuts for them and scolded me for never before making them for him. Well, no worries honey...we still have about 20 more hard-boiled eggs in the fridge.

I heard our land line ring this morning and became tense with fear. Jeremy came back from answering it and told me his parents would come around 8am or 9am to take Raelynn out for a bit so I could rest. What? Really? Now wait...that's actually helpful. And they did. They took her out until about 11am. And then I thought MIL would bother me some more but nope! She just dropped off Raelynn and a package of Japanese diapers a friend of hers had sent for us. AND SHE LEFT!

She didn't come until 5pm and she's only here to make us dinner. I'm shocked. And delighted. But fearful. I seriously SERIOUSLY hope this is how she will be during this time - HELPFUL. I seriously SERIOUSLY hope she will come take Raelynn for walks on the 4 days she's supposed to come so the kid can get out into the world while I care for her little sister. And I seriously SERIOUSLY hope she'll respect our boundaries. If she can do this, then I don't mind her helping at all. We'll see. We know how she is though, don't we?

And then of course, there's the reason for this whole entire post: Seoul. You know why we named her that, don't you? Because Jeremy and I met and fell in love in Seoul. Susie, her middle name, is another tribute to my mom, whose middle name was Sue. We'd discussed that our 2nd child would always be named Seoul, regardless of gender. It was the middle name that would be different if it was a boy or girl. If we were having a boy, Seoul's middle name would have been Michael, just like my father.

You know, already, we're getting bugged by people to have a 3rd child. NO. No way. I am enjoying not being pregnant anymore, thankyouverymuch, though I will always be supremely grateful that I got to experience such a special thing twice in my life. When we were still in the hospital, MIL and Jeremy were talking and I could hear them talking about x and y chromosomes. I asked why and Jeremy said his mother said that the next one would be a boy. I said that he better tell her to find another family to annoy because 2 children is plenty for me. I'm 38 and have had 2 c-sections now. I'm not having a 3rd child as I go into my 40s. NO. When we left the hospital, one of the staff members there said we should try for a boy next. GOD! What IS it with Asians and boys?!? They are not everything! Urgh!

So how is Seoul? Well, she's, so far, a very sweet and relatively easy-going baby. Raelynn, as much as we love her, was a very difficult baby. She cried ALL the time. About EVERYTHING. She's a wonderful child but we were exhausted with her as a baby. Seoul seems to have a very different personality. But one thing's for sure...Raelynn loves her little sister. The first couple days have been rough but Raelynn is learning to be helpful and not to make too much noise when her sister sleeps. I hope these 2 will be the best of friends as they grow up. Nothing makes me happier than to give these girls that amazing sibling experience I had growing up with my brother, Phillip.

Raelynn loves Seoul, and no, she's not the reason Seoul's crying here. When Seoul started crying, Raelynn climbed up next to her to comfort her. Awwww!

I still can't believe I have a family of 4 now. I still can't believe this little person came out of me. And I still can't believe Raelynn was ever this small. She seems so gigantic and grown up now. It's trippy. What's craziest of all is that during my pregnancy, I remember asking my dad if I would love both of my children. How will I love them both? He assured me I would absolutely love them both. I never could have imagined loving someone as much as I love Raelynn, and that's no dis on my husband. He knows just what I mean by that. But as I held Seoul one night in our hospital room, I was talking to her and she just looked up at me and I cried. And I realized I just love her so much. I love her with every bit of my heart. And with my whole soul (or should I say Seoul), just the way I love Raelynn.

You were right, Daddy. Just like always.

And I'm quite certain Jeremy feels exactly the same way.

Save My Weekend, Please!

I love my sweet husband. Very much. Except when he snores. But he knows this. There is very little I hate more than the sound of snoring when I am trying to sleep. Even when I'm wearing earplugs I can hear him! But you know what just sucks? That stupid World Cup is starting this weekend. GAH!

My husband played soccer in college. He plays on a team now, just for fun. Remember when he hurt his foot? Yeah. He fucking loves soccer. But, try as I might, I find it heinously boring. Unless I'm drunk. Oh alcohol, I miss you. You've been making boring sports less sucktacular for thousands of years. Now I'm going to be subjected to intermittent whoops and shouts, some that may occur while Raelynn and I are sleeping, and I won't even be able to drink to make it more bearable. The last time that damn World Cup was on was when we were in Seoul and it was so much more fun because we went out drinking with friends. Now I'm trapped in China and over 8 months pregnant. Sigh.

And I can't even complain because it's Father's Day this weekend and I should let my husband be happy. Stupid boring World Cup. Why can't you be more like American football? Urgh...

Wolverine Was Here

Yesterday morning, I walked into the kitchen and discovered this...

So I turned to my husband and asked him if by chance Wolverine had come by for a bowl of Coco Balls (which, in the states, you know as Coco Puffs but for whatever reason, they call them Coco Balls here).

Jeremy confessed that no superheros had visited us for breakfast. It was him. Just why he ripped it open with the kind of voracity you'd rip open a new roll of toilet paper when you have explosive diarrhea is beyond me. That part remains a mystery.