Secret Identity Revealed!

Yes, it's true, my disguise as a mild mannered housewife has been compromised. I will now reveal to the entire world (ok my mom and the other two occassional readers) who the real Cindy is.

Click here.

I Joined the Army!

No, not that army. I don't think they let 7 months pregnant women enlist anyway. But I did join The Army of Women. This is an organization that researches breast cancer by way of studying healthy women. In other words, they are looking for a cure and that's the most important thing.

Here are their two main goals:

• 
  To recruit one million healthy women of every age and ethnicity, including breast cancer survivors and women at high-risk for the disease, to partner with breast cancer researchers and directly participate in the research that will eradicate breast cancer once and for all.
• 
  To challenge the scientific community to expand its current focus to include breast cancer prevention research conducted on healthy women.
  

The best part is, it's so easy to join. All you have to do is sign up, answer a few questions and if you qualify you could be contacted to participate in a study near you that is looking for volunteers. Click here to be a part of the one million women who can make a difference in the fight against breast cancer.

Change Is Good... Right?

Don't forget to scroll down and see some pretty awesome pics

of my little man.

(If I do say so myself.)

*warning this is going to get long, you might want to grab a cup of coffee or a Diet Pepsi*

These last few weeks have been so crazy. While Baby Boy has been cooking and growing, I've been a wreck trying to figure out what to do about my OB. I had purposefully chosen this OB/GYN prior to getting pregnant knowing that I should be established with an OB should I need one. Well you know how that turned out... I needed one. Unfortunately, I needed to wait until the better insurance kicked in so even though that meant no prenatal care until I was nearly out of my first trimester, I was ok with that. Well the busybody receptionist at my OB's office didn't see it that way and I had to fight my way in to get an appointment. That certainly did not start out well.

Unfortunately things continued to get worse. I was shuffled from office to office despite expressing a preference for using the office closest to me. I was told one thing and then called the night before an appointment that I would need to change locations or some nonsense. I tried to be understanding as I was often told by different nurses on different occassions that "we are going through some staff changes", "we're upgrading some software that everyone has to learn". Fine. It's a learning curve for everybody (including me). I get that.

I was willing to deal with a few logistical mishaps as long as I continued to like the OB. Well, I can't tell you if that came true or not because not once... I repeat, not once in the 3 months that I have been going to that office did I see my OB. I was always seen by the Physician Assistant. Nothing against PA's, I happened to like this one, but seriously I can't see the doctor?! Even when I questioned this, I was given excuses. "Oh I don't know why they didn't schedule you with the doctor." Oh ok, are we back to the front office staff again? Great.

The final straw was last Thursday when I was scheduled to have my gestational diabetes test. I intentionally scheduled it super early so that I could get it over with, leave Phillip and Preston at home and still get them both to work and classes, respectively. This way I could go, drink the ten times worse than Kool-aid drink, sit an hour and not have to entertain a four year old, give my blood and be home by 8:30 am, 9 at the latest. Well the night before I get a call once again asking me to come to the less convenient location simply because they wanted to make sure there was a "provider" (aka PA) there and somehow that would make things easier for them and making sure my blood was taken right at that "hour" mark (that's important for this kind of test). So even though I wasn't scheduled with a doctor (or PA) only with a nurse - I checked when this appointment was scheduled because remember I wanted to see my OB - I complied.

I show up, the receptionist gives me her usual blank look and has no clue as to why I am there. She keeps telling me I'm there for a routine OB. No, I insist I'm just here for my diabetes screening. They send me back where I'm seen by a different PA (where did she come from?!) and by now I'm seething. This PA insists that I'm here for both routine check and screening. Fine whatever, this way I don't have to come back in two weeks for the routine check I'm already scheduled for. Oh no! I have to come back then too. Why? Nobody could tell me.

Ok, just give me the drink I've still got that hour to kill and I need to get home. I drink. I sit, sit, sit... read, read, read... watch a little 'I Love Lucy'. ('Lucy' was really funny... must have been the sugar.) Ok, time's up, let's give a little blood.

Oh no here's trouble. I've got deep, rolling veins. I've been through this before. The nurse is panicing because she can't find a vein. She pokes once. Nope. Twice. Nope. She calls another nurse. I tell her, you know this happened last time and there is only one nurse that was able to get me on the first try. Oh gee, guess which office she is at. That's right... the other office that I was originally scheduled for! So nurse #2 takes a stab... literally a stab that sends a shooting pain up my arm. I'm in tears. I'm coming down off this sugar high and I'm supposed to be on my way home now. Nurse #2 tells me that no one has ever cried on her and she can't deal with me and leaves. Good riddance, I say! Nurse #1 comes back with the PA and they both poke, dig, prod and finally get a vein in my hand. Were you keeping count? Let me help you out. That's five times that I was poked before actually getting some blood out of me.

I'm now seriously late getting back home. Preston misses his first class, Phillip is late to work as well. And did I mention that I'm coming down off a sugar high? Did I mention I'm a hormonal pregnant lady? Ok then, so you won't judge me when I tell you that I was an emotional wreck.

I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to decide what to do. Do I stay? (By the way, I had many more issues with this OB office that I just won't get into here.) Do I take a chance to try to find another doctor that will take me at nearly 7 months pregnant? After much consideration, I called a good friend who is also pregnant and insisted she give me the name of her OB that she's been raving about. I called them up and not only were they more than happy to see me at nearly 7 months pregnant (remember my first OB didn't want to see me at 3 months along) I could get in almost immediately.

So today was my first appointment with my new OB, Dr. F. I was really nervous about having to kind of start all over (my first OB was either unable or unwilling to release my records, but that seems to have been resolved now), but I really like my new OB. He took his time with me and answered all my questions and was sympathetic to my previous unpleasant experience. Even though we weren't able to really get down to the nitty gritty as my records were MIA, he made a point to make sure I felt comfortable with him and that we had the same philosophy when it came to the birth of my baby. The staff was nice - that's an improvement. The nurses staff was as well, although it is yet to be seen if they can get blood out of me.

So lots of changes. New OB. New hospital. Bring on the new baby.

The Reveal!

Here is the finished product from Preston's 4 year photoshoot. Enjoy!

Sneak Peek

Every year about this time, I'm scouring the coupons trying to find a good deal on some professional portraits. Of course, I use the term "professional" loosely as I'm too cheap to go anywhere other than WalMart or JCPenney. Sometimes we get good photos... most of the time they're just ok. And I'm really good about saying "No" when it comes to all those "extras" they try get you to buy so really spending $9.95 for an 8 x 10, a couple of 5 x 7's, and the hundreds of wallet sized photos - that are always left over - isn't too bad.

But this year is different. I'm hiring a real "non-professional" to do Preston's 4 year portraits. Me! So after spending a morning "on location", I've got a few snaps that should look nice on our portrait "Hall of Fame" (literally, a hall of framed portraits). Isn't that what everybody does with their 8 x 10's? I couldn't wait to get home and edit a few, so here's a sneak peek. Enjoy my handsome little man!

I Suppose I Could Get a Pair of Stilts

"How's the weather down there?" "Mind if I set my drink on you?" "Hey shortstuff!"

Ok, ok I get it. I'm short. And if you're not family, you are probably asking, 'How short are you?'. I'm 4 ft 6 in. There's some debate over whether I am 4 ft 6in or 4 ft 8in, whatever. Short is short. Just know that I am not even 5 ft tall. It's ok. I'm ok. I've been this way ever since like what... fourth, fifth grade? I'm not sure, I just know I've always been short. In fact, most of my family is short so we think we're normal. Does it stink sometimes? Sure. Like when I'm in a crowd of people and all I see are people's belt buckles or worse yet, their navels. Or when I'm at the store and I can't reach something and I have to either ask a total stranger or go without. (And man, I really needed the cinnamon that day! Why do they feel the need to alphabetize spices anyway?) Fortunately I have a four year old who can stand in the cart and reach things for me now.

Speaking of said four year old, he's not all that tall himself. Preston just had his four year well visit and just like all the previous times we check height and weight and wait for the doctor to chart it and see how he's grown. I don't know if other moms have anxiety about the "chart" but I'm right there leaning over the doctor's shoulder just waiting to see where she puts that little dot. It all started when Preston was just a newborn and his weight was progressively decreasing. Once he started gaining weight again we found that Preston was just going to stay on his own little chart. Actually his height/weight ratio doesn't even get "on" the chart, he's always stayed below it in the less than 5% range. However, every pediatrician we've ever seen has always said, as long as he stays on his own chart everything is fine.

Well fast forward to last Monday and one of my worst fears was realized. He fell off his own chart. His weight was good, but he only grew an inch and a half over the last year. So his pediatrician puts on her concerned hat and recommends we get a "bone growth x-ray" to determine bone age. Basically, an x-ray is taken of a child's hand and wrist and then compared to "norms" for children of the same age. Preston had his x-ray done and the doctor determined that Preston's bone age is that of a 3 year old (he just turned 4 earlier this month). This means that his little body is just a little bit delayed when it comes to growth. The bad news would have been if his bone age showed that of a 4 year old, that would indicate that something was not growing properly. Fortunately he's growing, just a bit slowly.

This actually has a name: Constitutional Growth Delay. Sounds like some kind of problem you have in your high school American History class, doesn't it? It really just means that Preston will likely start puberty a year later than his peers and at the end of puberty we'll see his height max out to the projected 5 ft 5 in. Still not all that tall, but we'll take it. Hey, it's almost a foot taller than me! Cannot fathom one day having to look up to my son.

But being short isn't all that bad. I'm often mistaken for someone much younger. When I was much younger I could get the child discount for most everything. I trick or treated until I was 18. (I probably still would if it didn't embarrass my husband.) Being height-challenged definitely has it's ups and downs. Although I was kind of hoping to spare my children from the "down" part. I mean, I did all that I could. I married a man who is 6 ft tall just to "breed some height back into the family", just like my momma told me to.

Preston's 4th Birthday Party

We celebrated Preston's 4th birthday on Sunday September, 7. He wanted to go to Chuck E. Cheese like we did for his 3rd. But this time we went to a "new" Chuck E. Cheese (basically just a different location than last years). Unfortunately only one of the few friends we invited was able to attend. I don't think Preston noticed, as he thinks everybody at Chuck E. Cheese is there for him anyway.

First stop, playing games. Notice the tongue, that helps you play better.

Checking out the air hockey table.

Air hockey rules!

Playing games with his Ra-Ra.

Time to open presents!

Discovering what is inside the box.

Yay for wriggly track! (This goes with his marble run)

Speed Racer cake which almost didn't happen.

(Ugh! I might be able to talk about it when he's sixteen)

Make a wish!

Our friend Corbin enjoying some blue icing.

Meeting Chuck E. Cheese.

Getting ready to dance with Chuck E. Cheese.

(They gave all the kids free tickets after they danced.)

After the party we headed to Preston's first night at Awana. It's a weekly Bible based program for preschoolers and school aged children. They teach them scripture, play games, tell stories, have a snack, and sing songs. We got to stick around for the first night and Preston had a really good time. There's even another Preston in his class, which totally blew his mind. He looks forward to going every week. And it gives mom and dad a chance to hang out.