4 years ago

7 Quick Takes #31 [Where Am I? Meet Bumpy Bridge? Collin Update + Begin: Conversations with Lexington]

Hey there, fellow Quick Takers.  To any noobs (that’s like young-speak for newbie, I think?) to the Quick Takes Friday scene, this is a link up hosted at ConversionDiary.  I read and enjoyed my favorite blogger’s Quick Takes for a long time before I decided to participate.  It’s a fun way to write about 7 things that really don’t warrant an entire post to themselves. …or in my case, 7 posts combined into a novella.  Thar yew gew.


It’s been a rough October already for us here at Bumpy Bridge House. We suffered some nasty plumbing problems for about a week.  I’m still recovering. It sucked my energy, and I daresay the lack of activity round 4Life4Life blog’s parts reflects it.  Though at the height of my frustration and anxiety over the whole thing (having stepped in an inch or two of surprise poo-water), I sat down and furiously wrote a hate letter to the house.


It has occurred to me that I’ve never formally introduced youse awll to Bumpy Bridge House. The formal introduction is scheduled to be made early next week.  Until then, here’s the casual one:

Processed with VSCOcam with lv01 preset

Meet Bumpy Bridge. The front yard.

Yup. You betchya I’m thrilled about the range-free ocean off the front porch.
…to be continued…


A few weeks ago, Jen prompted something I’d been brewing over for a few years. I decided to take a few steps back from Facebook. How have I been doing? Just fine.

I check up on FB maybe 2 days a week, or I’ll give myself 3 minutes with it: enough to “like” a few pictures of a friend’s newborn or newhaircut or newpresent.  But even in those three minutes, I found myself frustrated with things that are not worth the space in my head. Since becoming more conscience of how FB affects me, I can fully support my previous proposal that it is a mental clutterfest.  I feel cleaner without frequenting the mopey walls of Facebook.


So WHERE am I, in the social net, then? Well, I’m here. We are doing some new things for our family before the year is out, and I’ll be keeping youse guys privy to the action. Nope! Cain’t share yet.  I gotta make sure it’s a sure thangalang ‘fore I go all clickety clackety on the keyboard here. (But to belay you NFP Doubting Thomasers: no baby announcement in the forecast.) We just celebrated Craig’s 28th birthday, and I’ll be entering the 29th year of my life in the next month.
Ew 28 & 29.  It’s not like, “30, Flirty, and Thriving”; like, turning a new leaf; like opening a new book in the chronicles of Craigery & Carolynage; like, “at least I’m a young old!”
No. It’s like “I’m an old young.”
I’m like the 18 year old man child who still wants to be spoonfed but has no pity from him litter mommeh or daddeh because him’s a beeyug boy naow. Bewww hewww heww.

It’s completely like 29: Not cool  to a 21er, but don’t wanna be cool to a 21er, but I still wanna kinda feel like I know young stuff; but then I see some of the movies and trends that teens and early 20’s peeps are into and I’m like, Ew.
So, so, so ew.
–Wait, am I typing like a early twenties chick right now? Likerightnow, right now?

Stop it. ew.
So yeah, you don’t want to miss out on that., and you won’t see that on Facebook. Ew.


I’m on Instagram. I take photos of coffee.  Photos of coffee in cups. Photos of those cups in my hand.
Then there’s the usual montage of my sweet darling children. They are darling to me. That’s why I have to have some connaisance of who you are before I accept followers. I don’t want to have to privatize those photos but weirdos are weirdos.   Soooo if you request me, I’ll be looking you up, who you follow, who follows you, images you “like” and what you post.  If I don’t like any one of the above: nay, I say.  Actions, my people, actions. They do that thing that words don’t do sometimes.


Okay, so– important stuff out of the way: 

collin EKG

Collin, our youngest, underwent an echocardiogram on Monday.  We were told that he’d have to be sedated. I’m pretty anti-drugs for a vast array of reasons, one being that someone would feel it necessary to sedate a baby so that he’ll hold still for a few minutes. But I’m also not completely confident in myself as a parent to outwardly protest such a thing. So I was up late the night before, worried about not being allowed to feed or even breastfeed our tiny Collin.  I foresaw a cranky little boy up until the moment thy administered his medicine, and then I felt myself well up with tears, envisioning how he would look as his helpless, dependent little body lost consciousness and went to sleep, to the mercy of us big people.

vrrrrp- fast forward 3+ hours at the hospital of angry WAITING, and we were able to lay with and soothe Collin as he lay upon the ultrasound table, awake and unmedicated finishing up a 20 minute echocardiogram.  The nurses were impressed.

Collin Cardio

The only reason we had the opportunity to try this without sedation is that the anesthesiologist was tied up in another anesthesia and was expected to be busy for many hours more.  By then, it was noon, and our little baby was hungry.

The ultrasound tech finished her last image, and I plucked the darling peaceful dove up from the table and let him nurse. Sorry for the gushy mommy talk.  Craig and I were impressed by our peaceful tempered boy.
And then we were hangry.


I’m starting a series called Conversations with Lexington. 
Kinda like Grace does.

…whatever. Exactly like Grace does.
Lexington’s my healthy boy and I feel like I never write about him.  But he talks so much, and by the end of the day, I. AM. DONE.
However I’ve always secretly kept notes of his hilarious word vomitage. Here’s a preview:

“Mom, I’m going to call you Broccoli Boy.”

“I’m gonna eat your box of magic houses.”

“MOM. What’s under your nose, right there? Why is it green?”
*after examining and finding nothing* “I don’t know honey, I don’t see anything.”
“Well that’s because your nose is in the way.”

Me: Lexington, come here.
Lexington: Coming, master.

After asking him what kind of birthday present would make Mommy smile so that she could do the things she likes most:
“Maybe you can get something from the store so you can work!  P’wobly like paper towels, some soap sprayyyy…”

Me: It’s naptime.  So it’s not time to run, or jump…
Lexington: …or go to outer space…

[I may have shared that one before, see? Senile 29 year old, here.]

“Mom, I just want to shake my face.”

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  1. […] I mentioned I was going to formally introduce youse guys to Bumpy Bridge House.  I am. But first I have to crush your reading-soul by informing you that we are moving out of it.  The story to follow will hopefully explain Billy Goat’s gruffin’ above.  It has something to do with the fact that there is a pond in our front yard. no fences. A sliding back door. A middle child who has these sensory-processing-disorders and often throws complete thrashing fits when someone exits from that door, and he tries to open it.  He, along with my 1 year old, exit the house, in the night, while I’m trying to pee, and my husband and oldest son are 5,000 miles down the driveway taking the trash out. Collin falls down a set of wet, wood steps (albeit only 2), Emmett makes it 30 yards away by the time I’m outside, blindly screaming into the black woods surrounding our house. […]

  2. Wow, your front yard is beautiful! That’s great that he didn’t have to be sedated. I would have been bothered by that too.

  3. #4: Youngsters. (I’m 33.)

    #6: Truthfully, it just looks like they’re sleeping. I doubt they’d do a breathing tube for him — they didn’t when they sedated Daniel for his MRI.


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