Battle of the sexes: Creating a monster

I think I've mentioned before that Nick has become a Banana Republic man, a fact I (previously) took credit for and proudly so. It all started with a silk cashmere blend sweater. ("Sweaters are itchy. Hmm, this one's kinda nice.") And then the slim cut, no-iron dress shirt. And wool trousers. (He  now actively snubs polyester.) And then we moved up to the big leagues - a charcoal herringbone suit. And you're not gonna believe this, but my husband, self-proclaimed Nick "Not That Guy" Scholz owns a navy blue half-zip sweater. BR is like yuppie crack. And crack always leads to problems. See below.

This is a picture of our closet. The halfway point is marked by the red arrow.

And what is that on the left (aka Bethie's side) of halfway? Well, cyber friends, the blue arrow indicates a pair of Nick's dress pants. It used to be 70/30, then 60/40, and now...his clothes actually cross into my territory. Pure insanity.

Moral of the story: Be careful what you wish for and even more careful when you take your man shopping to your favorite stores.

Look who's walking

I have purposefully not posted Elle videos because I know they just aren't entertaining unless you're me (or my mom). But I couldn't help myself this time. Check out Ellison's (almost) first steps!

I think we're alone now

Last weekend Jen came over for a little BFF time, by which I mean baking and then eating something delicious. Nick had planned to go out to a movie, but he got sick and ended up staying at home. He hid out in the bedroom so as not to invade our girl time. Or so we thought.

Jen: Did you know that Ke$ha's actually really smart?
Me: No way.
Jen: Yeah, she got like a 1500 on her SAT or something. And went to school somewhere impressive.
Me: Like Cindy Crawford, right?
[yelling from the other room] Nick: Not that I'm listening, but didn't Ke$ha also say she talks to ghosts?
Me: Can't say I'd heard that one.
Nick: So yeah, I don't think I'd put too much stock in her SAT scores. I don't think anyone who says they talk to ghost could really be that smart. [pause] OK, I'm done. I'll leave you alone now.

The 30 day challenge

So the Christian radio station in Houston does this campaign every January, encouraging people to listen only to Christian music (ie, their station) for a month. You know... good stuff in, good stuff out and all that jazz. I've always ignored it, but this year I thought maybe I should give it a whirl. Something about the looming idea of Elle repeating everything I say has that effect on me.
With that background in mind, picture me in my car yesterday, at a standstill on the highway amidst dense fog and thousands of other commuters. Pardon all the capital letters and excessive punctuation, but I have no other means to adequately convey my emotions via type.

Traffic girl: Well, there's significant fog this morning, limiting visibility to zero in some places. [tone of astonished wonder]
Me: I know.
TG: No incidents to report, but there's some major slow downs because of that fog. So pack your patience. [you can actually hear her smiling]
Me: Pack your patience, pack your patience. [read again in nasally sarcastic whining tone] OK, I know I should repent of mocking you, but YOU ARE SO NOT HELPFUL RIGHT NOW!!!!
TG: Good job out there avoiding those accidents. Remember, keep your distance from other cars.
Me: What?! And invite everybody out here to cut me off? I don't think so.
TG: And slow down your speeds.
Me: IT ISN'T POSSIBLE TO GO ANY SLOWER THAN STOPPED!!! I don't want to go slower; I want to go FASTER!!
TG: We'll do another update on traffic in 15 minutes.
Me: You are SO annoying. I don't want to hear from you anymore.

Somehow I don't think that's the effect for which the well-meaning souls at the radio station were aiming. But I'm sticking it out, even though it meant listening to her FOUR TIMES on the way to work yesterday. I can't wait for February 1.

The waiting game

I'm on call this weekend. Boo. It really isn't that bad; I mean, it's nothing like being on call in residency. I just sit at home with the pager and only come in if there's a new consult. Which means I spend my weekend watching the clock, waiting and wishing and hoping and rationalizing.

OK, 8 am and all is well. So there wasn't anyone who came in overnight they want me to see.

OK, 9 am and all is well. Nobody in the ICU because they always call those early.

OK, 10 am and all is well. But don't get too comfy, Beth. This is the witching hour for consults.

OK, 11 am and all is well. They should all be done with rounds by now, so you should be about in the clear. But still don't get too comfy. Sometimes they get doing other stuff and don't call you until the last minute.

OK, 12 noon and all is well. You should be good. Anything routine can just be seen tomorrow. But ug, what if something rolls into the ICU? Or what if they call you to see that lady on 8N again? No, you just saw her yesterday. You should be good. But what if...

And so I while away the afternoon. I finally settle down about 4:00 and manage to enjoy the rest of my day. That usually entails a trip to the grocery store, DSW, +/-Hobby Lobby.

The year in review

Caveat emptor: Lots of baby talk ahead. That's talk about the baby, not like a baby. And it's a long one. You've been warned.

So our sweet, darling Ellison just had her first birthday. I posted a picture recently of our family this Christmas, which of course makes me remember last Christmas.

What a difference a year makes, right? Now I loved Elle from her very first breath, so please keep that in mind while you read the next few lines. In many ways, I was a very hesitant mommy those first few months. The three of us have had so many precious moments together, but it was tough, too. Nick and I have had real arguments for the first time in our marriage, and some of the compromises are still a work in progress. Except for the few days I've been away from home, I haven't slept in for over a year, and that used to be one of my favorite little luxuries. I used to spend Saturday afternoons doing whatever I wanted - shopping, scrapbooking, whatever - but now I have to cram whatever I can into 1-2 hours during nap. And when you compound all the usual mommy worries with a medical school education, you have a recipe for driving yourself insane, imagining all the awful possibilities that could happen to your child if she touches, breathes, or ingests too much of the wrong things or too little of the right things.
But you know the crazy thing? Somewhere along the way, probably 4 months in, I stopped minding those things. Some people call it hormones, but I really think it's just God's grace to mommies to keep the species going. He had the good sense to make babies smile around 2 months so you won't throw them in the trash. And then when she started giving hugs a few months ago... Well, if that doesn't warm you're heart, you might be a robot. And the way she lights up when I walk into her daycare room, bouncing and giggling; she loves me back! When people ask me what surprised me most about becoming a parent, I tell them I can't believe how much I love her. So for any of you ladies worried about having kids because you're afraid you won't like them or won't know what to do with them, take it from this cold-hearted non-baby person. If I can do it, you can do it. And it really is different when it's your own kid. Really.

Two points in follow-up:
1) Don't go thinking I'm gonna quit my day job and become a pre-school teacher. Just because I'm good with my kid doesn't mean I'm good with kids in general. I still have no idea what to do with someone else's baby. I'm still me; I just have a soft spot for one particular baby.
2) This post would not be complete without a shout-out to my dear sweet hubby. He has been really patient with my doctor-mommy freaking out self, and it puts my heart at peace to watch my favorite husband and my favorite baby playing and laughing together. God put together quite a pair with us, didn't he?

OK, sappy reflection time over. We'll be back to our regular scheduled programming later this week.

When spaghetti goes rogue

I finally found a way to upload photos again. Feel free to rejoice.

Ellison has been learning to feed herself. She's getting really good with finger foods. And when you're highly motivated, anything is a finger food. Even if it's one noodle at a time.

Battle of the sexes: Not opposite enough

You know how they say opposites attract? This is true but not true regarding Nick and me. I'm uptight; he's relaxed. I'm a doctor; he syncopizes (that's "faint" for you lay-folk) at the sight of blood. I could sleep through a hurricane; he wakes up if the dog breathes in the next room. Get the idea?

But we're also alike. Conservative politics. Dog people. And lovers of all things sweet and gooey.

Nick was a sweetheart and made dinner and dessert last night. Dinner was - who cares! What was for dessert? Dessert was chocolate chip cookie bars because I wanted more goo, less edge. We're already like half-way through the pan.

Me: I wish you liked the crusty edge more, so I could have more gooey middle.
Nick: Maybe you're the one who should start liking the crusty edge.
Me: You always avoid the edge and go for the middle.
Nick: No, I don't. I take the edge, too.
Me: But not on the very first row. You cut up the side and leave me the corner.
Nick: Here, is this better? [cuts a square out of the very middle] Now at least it will be true when you tell your story.

I guess he's realized everything he says is potential blog fodder. Sorry, honey. But just think - you're practically famous on the internet!

Foiled

So, I had some more stuff set to publish over the last few days, but it seems Blogger has eaten the posts. This includes yet another super cute Elle picture, and I now can't get the photo uploader to work.

So have no fear, I'm not abandoning you again (just yet). I'll keep trying for the photos. Until then, happy Tuesday!

I almost forgot

I really should have set something to auto-publish before we left for Connecticut, but I just forgot. Just like I forgot about ordering Christmas cards until December 17. So you should be getting a lovely photo card with the as-usual hilarious letter sometime in the next week.

If you don't, it means 1) the Post Office lost it 2) I don't like you anymore 3) I don't have your correct address. If you don't get one but want one, send me your address and I will rectify the situation, regardless of which aforementioned option resulted in the absence of Christmas card from your no-longer-Christmas-themed hearth.

Until then, merry very late Christmas from every Scholz, big and small!

31 days

Well, January is the time for well-intentioned long-term commitments that inevitably become short-term. So here's my "resolution" along with my plan for self-motivation.

I want to work out 5 days a week for the month of January. If I do this, I get to treat myself to a mani-pedi. A nice one, with the paraffin soak and everything.

So now I've said it out loud, so to speak. Hold me to it, people.