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Wednesday, January 31, 2007Pregnant Cravings: Perk or Pain?My family is either benefiting or suffering from my recent, oddball food cravings. I guess it depends on which family member you ask. I was craving cabbage, so I invented my own cabbage soup recipe and have been eating it for the last few days. Don't like cabbage? Out of luck in the Boehme home. I was craving homemade applesauce -- which is a joke, since I haven't made it since before having children -- so yesterday I bought five pounds of Granny Smith apples and made the applesauce. Fortunately, that one was a hit all around. Now I'm craving Cream of Rice, so of course I picked up a box and will be preparing it for tomorrow's breakfast. (Poor Spencer -- he hates cabbage and Cream of Rice. But then, he hates just about everything, so I can't really tailor my cravings to that, now can I?) I'm also craving hard cider, but that's not an option right now. I've settled for a delightful, all-natural sparkling fruit juice that my dear husband was kind enough to bring home for me. Each twelve-ounce bottle equals a full fruit serving. Can't beat that! And no sugar added. So, yeah, this has been pretty strange. Especially the cabbage -- though I suspect that might be more of an unconscious comfort thing. I'm twenty-five percent Ukrainian and I grew up eating a lot of cabbage. Cabbage makes me fart. Oh, this journey is just as interesting as I'd suspected it would be. And we're not even a quarter of the way through yet! (Close, though -- I'm nine weeks today.) I need to find something to eat. Labels: pregnancy Monday, January 29, 2007On Young Girls and ViolenceIt was a long time coming. Maggie finished reading the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy when she was ten. (Yeah, yeah, I know it's not really a trilogy.) I promised her back then that we'd rent the movies and she could watch them. I've got a hard-and-fast rule, you see, about reading books before watching movies. Somehow, it's a sign of a great mind, and I want my children to have great minds. (I, on the other hand, did not grow up reading the books first. Most of the time, I didn't even realize that there was a book.) So Maggie waited patiently as months turned into years. I'm not sure why we kept putting off the movies; Eric and I both love them. Maybe they're just a bit too long-and-intense to watch over and over. Or maybe it's because I was afraid the flying Orc heads would freak my daughter out. We talked about it a lot ahead of time. I explained the violent nature of the battle scenes, and how Maggie should plan on closing her eyes whenever necessary. True, she's already read every minute detail, but let's face it -- there's something about the cinematography of severed limbs and squirting blood that leaves a different impression. Maggie assured me that she would be okay -- and that she would close her eyes whenever necessary. This weekend, we finally watched The Fellowship of the Ring. All almost-four hours of it. All at once. My daughter unabashedly, unreservedly loved it, and is now rereading the book (ostensibly to check for inconsistencies -- like mother, like daughter). But the highlight of the entire experience came unexpectedly at the close of the final battle scene, after Boromir has been shot with three arrows and is finally succumbing to his wounds. Aragorn leaps from the trees and attacks the one remaining Uruk-hai who is getting ready to deal Boromir his death blow. Aragorn and the Uruk-hai battle fiercely. Then, in a final, victorious swipe, Aragorn slices off the Uruk-hai's head. "YES!" came the jubilant shout from my twelve-year-old daughter. "I'm so glad he KILLED him!" There you have it. My daughter, about whom I was so concerned, gave a whoop of victory as the Uruk-hai's head flew off camera. Those little eyelids hadn't fluttered shut for a second. Either Maggie is extremely well-balanced and was able to translate the fiction she'd already read to the graphic representation on the screen -- or she's completely warped. I'll opt for the former. Labels: family, life, parenting Friday, January 26, 2007Vitamin, Vitamin, Who's Got The Vitamin?Eric and I were enjoying our morning coffee time -- sprouted bagels with butter, organic coffee with half-n-half, and the requisite vitamins placed on the coffee tray. Or so I thought. I always eat before swallowing morning pills, especially now that I'm consuming a daily, horse-pill-sized, all-natural-sans-artificially-sweetened-coating, yucky-tasting prenatal vitamin. So after having finished my bagel, I reached behind my coffee cup for the pill. It wasn't there. "You forgot my vitamin," I said, rising to go fetch one myself. "No I didn't. I set it by your coffee cup." Okay, maybe I missed it. I lifted the cup, checked the coffee tray. "Nope, it's not there." "Jilly, I know it put it there." Eric's voice was strangely insistent. "I put out two vitamins, mine and yours. I distinctly remember doing it because they were sitting side by side and I remember thinking, oh, they might get mixed up, so I moved mine over to my side of the tray." "Eric, it's not there." "I know I put them on the tray." "Did you take yours?" "I think I may have taken it while I was still in the kitchen, before I brought the tray in here." He looked at me accusingly. "Are you sure you didn't take your vitamin already?" "Eric, I did not take my vitamin." "Maybe you're just not remembering. You are pregnant, you know." "Eric, I did not take my vitamin." This was getting silly. "I always finish eating before I take vitamins, and I just now finished my bagel and reached for the vitamin, and it wasn't there." "I know I put it there." Eric proceeded to remove everything from the tray in a vain effort to produce the missing vitamin. "Are you sure you didn't take it, Jilly?" Oh. My. Gosh. I knew I hadn't taken the freaking vitamin. And now Eric was getting a sort of odd, frantic look in his eyes. "I put both vitamins on the tray. I distinctly remember doing it because they were sitting side by side and I remember thinking, oh, they might get mixed up, so I moved mine over to my side of the tray." Now he was starting to repeat himself. "Eric, maybe you took my vitamin." "Why would I take your vitamin?" "I don't know!" "Jilly, I think you must have taken your vitamin." "I-did-not-take-my-vitamin! There was no vitamin on the tray!" "This is really disturbing." (Oh, he noticed?) "Do you think maybe you might have taken my vitamin by accident?" Pause. "Maybe I could have. I don't know." Pause number two. "You say you know how many vitamins you would have taken since we bought them?" Yes, I could answer that question. It was a bottle of forty; there should have been twenty-two left -- if today's vitamin had been removed from the bottle. So Eric dumped out all of my prenatals into his (slightly trembling?) hand and counted them. "Twenty-two. So I did take it out. I knew I took it out." He looked at me imploringly. "Are you sure you didn't take your vitamin?" In the name of all goodness, I didn't know how much longer I could stand this. I once again explained that I was not able to take vitamins on an empty stomach, I had certainly not taken a vitamin that morning, and had, in fact, not seen a single vitamin on the coffee tray. "Okay. Maybe I took your vitamin. I don't know." He handed me a fresh pill. "Here. You go ahead and take your vitamin." Fine. He finally conceded. Except -- now I was doubting myself. What if I had taken the vitamin and was having a complete mental block? What would happen if I took two vitamins in the same day? "I don't want to take my vitamin." "No, really, Jilly, you need to take your vitamin." "It's okay if I skip a day, I think it would be safer if I didn't take my vitamin." "Jilly, I think I probably took your vitamin by accident." "Well, we won't know that until you check your pee. My vitamins make my pee fluorescent." Eric assured me that he would give me a full account of the relative fluorescence of his urine. And I let my prenatal vitamin sitting there, untouched. Until around lunchtime, when I began to feel distinctly ill-ish, probably due to a drop in B-6. So I took the bloody vitamin. And all was well. Note to self: Do not allow husband to handle pill bottles unattended or leave him with children who require medication. His pee was pretty interesting that day, too. Men. Wednesday, January 24, 2007Will I Ever (EVER!) Simply Enjoy A Novel Again?I taught myself to read when I was four and haven't stopped since. I found my "writer's voice" at age six, lost my way for a while, but ultimately returned to my true passion and haven't looked back. Sounds like the two should go well together, right? Any writer worth his salt is also an avid reader. Reading (good stuff) improves our writing. And writing feeds our need to keep reading. Except, I've run into a problem. I find that, ever since I've tackled writing on a "this is my lifelong career" level, I have trouble reading novels uncritically. And it stinks. Right now I'm reading Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell (a nineteenth century British author). I'm loving the dialogue, the character portrayals (she's a master), the British-ness of it all. But Elizabeth Gaskell does something that drives me crazy -- something I'd never even thought about until I started writing novels myself. Elizabeth Gaskell shifts her point of view. Constantly. Twice on the same page, even. First we're in Molly's head, then her father's, then Mrs. Hamley's. Then we're back to Molly again. It's beyond distracting, particularly because modern writers are encouraged to stick to one point of view, period. Stay in your protagonist's head, we're told. Don't jump about or you'll confuse your reader. Right. Nobody told that to Mrs. Gaskell. Harry Potter is an excellent example of this modern-day "stay in your protagonist's head" thing. Except for the opening chapters of several of her books that expose a scene that doesn't include Harry (an omnipotent point of view, that), the stories in their entirety are told from Harry's point of view. Not Ron's, not Hermione's, not Hagrid's. Not ever. Everything is beautifully described through Harry's eyes and perceptions. It's "textbook." That's what is expected of writers these days. Maybe it's a dumbing down of society, or maybe it's just a good technique for creating consistency in a story. I haven't decided. I only know that my awareness of point-of-view is destroying my enjoyment of reading-for-pleasure. I recently read one of the most beautifully written young adult novels I've ever laid eyes on: The Singer of All Songs by Kate Constable. Ms. Constable has restored my faith in the modern writer's ability to write truly good, truly lovely, truly well-written prose. It's the first in a trilogy and I'm chomping at the bit to read the remaining two stories. And if you've got a reader in your life who falls into the ten-to-fourteen-year-old category, and who happens to enjoy fantasy, grab this book immediately and throw it in the child's lap. It's a must-read. The Singer of All Songs tells the tale strictly from the viewpoint of Calwyn, the protagonist -- except for the chapter in which Calwyn is stolen by pirates. There's a scene that takes place on a separate boat, where Calwyn's comrades are being held captive. Calwyn isn't there, but suddenly we are thrust into the hold and exposed to the story from someone else's eyes. It is jarring. Deeply disturbing, even. There I was, experiencing the entire, marvelous tale through Calwyn's eyes, and when someone else took the reigns, it bothered the bananas out of me. I don't think it would have fazed Elizabeth Gaskell. Thing is, Ms. Constable probably gave a lot of thought to how she was going to handle this particular scene. She might have done it differently. The scene in the hold might've been recounted to Calwyn later, as backstory. But there was something about the tension, the immediateness of the scene, that ultimately led the author to choose the viewpoint switch. If I weren't a writer, I don't think I would have noticed. As it stood, I found myself gasping for figurative breath and trying to rectify this woman's beautiful, almost flawless writing with the fact that she had unabashedly switched her point of view. See what I mean? I'm ruined for life. I guess it's this way with a lot of things. My dental hygienist, who is divorced but hoping to find Mr. Right, claims that she is not interested in men with bad teeth. My husband, who manages a group of fellow computer geeks, is often heard exclaiming that he hates computers. And I'm sure that the folks who design the rides at Disney World have long since lost the sense of "magic" those rides are supposed to offer. Still. Reading is such a simple pleasure. I've got to find some way to reclaim it. Don't even say it. I already know I'm anal retentive. There's got to be another explanation. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Monday, January 22, 2007Itty-Bitty Baby
 To the untrained eye, that may not look like much. But on Friday, we saw his little heart beating -- clearly. We saw him wriggling around in his little baby bubble. And we fell in love with him. Eric, I must tell you, is completely, thoroughly gone over this new baby. It happened the moment the image popped up on the ultrasound screen. There was an immediate daddy/baby bonding that's only been growing stronger over the past few days. So my official Estimated Due Date is September 8. I happen to know, however, for reasons unsuitable for sharing, that there is no possible way that the technician's dating is correct. So while I will continue to tout September 8 (it's my parents' wedding anniversary, after all -- a fine date), in my heart I'm sticking with September 5, a date that gels with things-I-know-about-conceiving-babies. This whole thing takes my breath away. It gives me heartburn, too, but that's not quite the same thing. Overall I'm having a decent first trimester, and I can't complain. Still, a little more energy would be nice. I feel as though I've just spent my entire weekend sleeping. Of course, that's a great way to get Eric to actually help clean up the kitchen after supper: "I'm soooo exhausted, dear..." Not that I would ever do that. I'm much more subtle. Next ultrasound viewing: some time in April. Stay tuned for the big disclosure ("It's a .......")! Labels: pregnancy Thursday, January 18, 2007Lions and Tigers and a WebcamYou've absolutely got to see this: Watering Hole in Africa I can't take credit for finding it; Jonathan discovered it and passed it around our computerized family. The webcam is set up 24/7, and if you're lucky, you'll see a lioness or exotic bird come to the water and drink. I haven't been so lucky yet, though my children have. Enjoy your pseudo-safari, and don't blame me if you get addicted! Labels: homeschooling, links Wednesday, January 17, 2007Meeting the MidwifeI had my first prenatal visit yesterday. For the first time in my career of pregnancies, I was not referred to as a "patient." That, in itself, is enough to make me happy with my choice of childbirth care provider. But there's more. The best part of the whole visit -- the best part -- was that nobody ever asked me how old I was. No one! Not the receptionist, not the gal who drew twelve gallons of prenatal blood, not the resident hanging in the background, not the midwife herself. Age was a non-issue. I was treated, simply, like a woman. A pregnant woman. An ageless pregnant woman. And I really needed that. Eric, of course, came with me. We're both still a bit starry-eyed over this baby-on-the-way thing, so in that sense we weren't very different from your typical first-time parents, marveling at the wonder of it all. And nobody asked me how old I was! Friday is ultrasound day, for the sake of determining gestational age (honestly, I'm pretty sure I've got it down to the hour, but I guess I'll stick with convention). My daughters are disappointed that it's too soon to determine the sex of the baby. "Can't they see the X or Y chromosome?" asked suddenly-scientific Maggie. "Ur, no, sweetie. Those are microscopic." Hey, at least she was listening during our latest "Human Reproduction" talk. So an Estimated Due Date is on its way and will be duly announced. After that, I may start up a collection for O.P.S.B.A.P.D.O.B.E. -- that's Older Parents Shocked By A Pregnancy, Devoid Of Baby Equipment. Oh, and a wine fund. Because the first thing I'm going to drink after this baby is born is a perfectly chilled glass of Sonoma-Cutrer Chardonnay. Do you think they'll let me bring a bottle to the hospital? Labels: pregnancy Monday, January 15, 2007AffirmationWhen I was twelve, I didn't have any "real" friends. Well, I take that back. There was my sister. If it weren't for the tearing-up of sibling relationships that so often happens when children attend public schools, our relationship with each other might have lasted the storms of peer pressure and "you're too young for me now" (poor Jamie; she was faithful to end). So yes, I had a friend in my sister. But outside in the ruthless world of age-segregated others, I did not truly "fit." I wasn't into sports (the national pastime in our tiny, depressed town), I wasn't interested in cheerleading, I preferred playing the piano and writing stories over running around the neighborhood playing brainless games. I was even ridiculed for my extensive vocabulary (fancy that; I actually read books with two-and-more-syllable words in them). There was one friendship I made that I thought was a "forever and best" friendship, but it wasn't meant to be. In eleventh grade, you see, I landed the lead role in the high school musical. My "best friend," who adored the theatre as passionately as I did, wasn't cast in the supporting role she'd auditioned for. It was such a devastating blow for her that our friendship crumbled. I remember walking to school with her in complete silence. She never once asked me, "So, how was practice last night?" It was too painful. And I was too immature to deal with it. Once again, I was alone in the crowd. All this is irrelevant today, except for the fact that I'm seeing such a different scenario unfolding in my own daughter's life. Just yesterday, she sent me an email containing something that one of her ballet buddies wrote for her. The words are so affirming, the sentiment so beautiful, that I asked her permission to post the piece here on my blog. Without further ado: M eans everthing she says A loyal friend to God and everybody R ighteous and beautiful in God's eyes and my own G reat personality and smile A ttractive face R eally fun to be with (cuz you make me laugh) E veryone feels welcome around you T ruthful and honest and does everything in excellence Wow. Naturally, I see my daughter in much the same light. But I'm her mother. These words were penned by a peer -- a fellow ballerina who sees Maggie through God's eyes. I am blown away. What more can a mother want for her daughter, than to see beautiful character traits blossom in such a way that others embrace and affirm them? Knowing that Maggie exudes truthfulness, warmth, and inner beauty when I'm not around to see her is a measure of comfort not yet experienced. I'm loving it. And I'm loving the heart of the young girl who took the time to write these words for Maggie. That's my Mom Moment for today. Thanks for indulging me! Thursday, January 11, 2007Barbie's On Poop DutyJust when I think I've seen it all, I haven't. On a recent trip to Wal-Mart, I discovered Barbie and Tanner, the Barbie-and-dog set that comes with not only wee plastic doggie biscuits, but a pile of plastic doggie poop. No, really. Tanner "eats" her biscuits and "poops" out of her little plastic butt. Then Barbie gets to scoop up the poop with her nifty magnetic pooper scooper (complete with long handle so that svelte Barbie doesn't have to strain her lovely back). Magnetic poopies. How innovative. If I feed my new baby a high-iron diet, maybe I'll be able to clean his bottom with a "U" magnet. I grew up playing Barbie. I've bestowed a wondrous amount of Barbies-and-gear upon my dear daughters. Barbie has experienced all sorts of things over the years, from double-jointed ballet legs to embedded voice chips to pregnancy and back again. But BARBIE DOG POOP? Someone at Mattel has run out of ideas. Tuesday, January 09, 2007And Now, The Rest of the StoryIt was a New Year's Eve to remember. The words "stunned," "shocked," and "rendered temporarily braindead" apply. It took us both forty-eight hours to come out of the fog. We'd just found out that Baby Number Five was on the way. My suspicions had grown exponentially over the course of the day, until finally Eric ran to the pharmacy shortly before dinner to purchase a pregnancy test. The rest is history. We've adjusted. Our disbelief has turned to joy. We're making plans, moving forward. Still, every so often there's this punch-in-the-stomach feeling. And it all comes rushing back unbidden: How can this be true? How can this be happening in our early 40's? The baby is due the first week of September. In the meantime, life goes on. I'm homeschooling, I'm writing, I'm eating chocolate (but not drinking any wine, of course....sob...). Next week, when I see the midwife for the first time, I'm going to wear a very, very large hat so that my forty-something face isn't visible to all the twenty-something pregnant women in the waiting room. Okay, not really. Your enthusiasm and support in yesterday's comment box filled my heart. Thank you! It helps a great deal to know that others are rejoicing. Lots of fun stories in the weeks and months to come, I'm sure! Monday, January 08, 2007Monday's Answer to the Mysterious Missing BitWell, those were some of the best guesses possible. Yes, Maggie's glasses are missing. Yes, Rachel's hand is missing. And "Jonathan's smile?" Brilliant! I feel like I should give prizes or something -- those are some darn good answers. But here comes the big admission: It was a trick question. The "thing" that's missing from the family photograph is the seventh grandchild. I'm pregnant. :) Friday, January 05, 2007The Schafer-Boehme-Soranno Clan
 I thought you might like to see the happy gang that spent the holidays together at the Boehme Hoehme this year. Call me insane, but I wanted to grab the opportunity to get all six grandchildren together for a photo shoot. My parents are front and center; that's my mom holding The Most Perfect Baby (my sweet nephew) in her lap. And see the clones on the right? Ida looks so much like my sister when she was wee, it's almost frightening. Despite the fairly decent composition of the photograph, the truth remains that something is missing. Can you spot it? Leave your guesses in the comment box over the weekend, and we'll see if anyone discovers it. (And you don't have to be a photography guru to get it right!) Have a joy-filled weekend, everyone! Tuesday, January 02, 2007Johnny DeppWant to know what it means to have a really secure, I-know-she-loves me husband? It means receiving a framed, black-and-white photograph of Johnny Depp in the movie Chocolat from Eric for Christmas. Yep. And it's hanging on my wall already. To clarify, it's not just about this forty-something woman ogling over a movie star. I don't "ogle." Eric and I collect photos from our favorite movies and display them on our family room wall. It's part of our "this is our special hang-out" decor, and it includes characters from Pride and Prejudice, Room With a View, and the entire cast of Stark Trek: The Next Generation. And now, Johnny's up there, too. Yes, I adore him -- he's a terrific actor (there's nothing like a pretty-boy who can't act, agreed?). And we all know that Jack Sparrow is my favorite character in the history of the silver screen. And, okay, I've got a Pirates of the Caribbean cereal box sitting here on my desk. But Eric knows all this. And he loves me. And he bought me the photograph because he knew it would send me into ecstatic exclamations. Isn't he a cool guy? I just hope he doesn't expect me to find him a photograph of Jenny Funnell. I don't think I can go there. Something about perky breasts and all that. I think I'll go downstairs and dust my photographs... |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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