Oops, Sis Did It Again

18 months ago Max and my sister had the most precious baby I've ever seen... then yesterday they had the most precious baby I've ever seen again! So weird.

It is my greatest pleasure to introduce you to my beautiful new niece, Miss Avery Brooke :)

She was aptly born to flight officers at 7:47pm on their wedding anniversary
June 5, 2011
7lbs 3oz
20in long


and after she got her hair did :)



The day started like any other day that starts with your phone ringing at 4:30 in the morning.... I startled awake and practically fell out of bed trying to answer it with a frantic, "are you okay?!?" The only other time I woke up so quickly was when a huge, drunk football player thought it'd be a good idea to surprise me while I was asleep in my dorm room. By laying on me. Ever wake up thinking you're being raped? Didn't think so. It's not fun. So my ever so calm and reserved sister (of whom I'm not sure how I'm related for that very reason) says quietly and peacefully, "Yes, everything is fine. I need you to come home now, my water broke."

I was out the door like Jackie Joyner-Kersee on steroids, my hair probably looking a lot like her dreads at this point too, and since OKC decided to have overnight highway construction on The Most Inconvenient Day ever, thoughts about having a baby on the kitchen floor were dancing through my head... but I was home in no time and there was apparently no need to rush. Brooke was quietly doing what she does best: organizing life in no hurry whatsoever. And it's a good thing too, because she was back at the house by 7am ??? The doc said her water didn't break, but that "she peed herself".

For the record, I'm only comfortable telling this part of the story because 12 hours later we were obviously snuggling a baby, not a 7lb turd. I'm gonna need that doctor's credentials asap.

Anyhoo. We headed back to the hospital when "she peed herself" again and she was admitted (doctor dipshit was obviously not on-call at that point). But the home stretch didn't start off too well when the nurse misplaced her IV and her arm blew up like the elephant man. I just seriously don't have the stomach for stuff like that, people. I almost passed out and we had only been there 15 minutes. But IVs were replaced and my sense of calm was soon restored.

Now Mom tells the best story of Brooke's virtually silent natural labor with Vincent and I was so curious to see if she was over exaggerating like the drama queen she (I) is (am). So at about 6pm, as if I was transported through time to his birth in 2009, Brooke would start to tell a story and just kind of stop in the middle of a sentence, close her eyes, gently relax her arms and breathe normally through a 20 minute contraction. Okay, maybe not that long, but the little Richter Scale of contractions scared me! Most of them were like 5.0s at this point and getting close together, but Brooke was like a silent pregnant Buddha in an annoyingly patterned hospital gown.




It wasn't until 7pm that our little Richter Scale didn't matter anymore because sister was on her side, couldn't move petrified from pain, getting no breaks between contractions AND she broke 4 of my fingers from squeezing my hand. It was around then I decided I would never have a child. She still wasn't making noises because she's pretty much the strongest person I know, but she didn't have to say anything, her wrinkled brow of pain and the fact that I didn't see her eyeballs for an entire hour said enough. She actually ordered an epidural to stop the madness, but the elusive anestesiaologist "Jim" was playing the slots at the casino or something because it never got there....

Brooke went from 6cm to fully dilated and begging to push in 30 minutes. A swarm of nurses and doctors trying to hide their frenzy frantically set up for Avery's arrival. Like earth, wind and fire, Mom grabbed Brooke's right shoulder, Aly migrated to her left shoulder, and I posted up on her left leg. With our Anderson Women powers combined we just stood there and cried for the fifth element to get her shoulders the hell outta Brooke. Funny thing is, when they turned on those birthing flood lights, it was exactly like the final scene in that movie. Except sadly, half naked Bruce Willis wasn't there.

The doctor told her to push at her next contraction and we all waited, hearts pounding from excitement.... and like an amazing magician, the doctor pulled a beautiful baby girl out of Brooke's. hat. The love just poured out of us and for a hot second I forgot about all the pain my sister was in, because my baby niece was laying there being wiped and poked and prodded and of course, adored. THEN the doctor turned to us and her mouth was moving, but I couldn't hear any words.

That's a lie. She was asking who wanted to cut the cord since Max was somewhere between Spain and Africa bringing home the bacon. But seeing as I almost lost my lunch with Brooke's little IV situation earlier, I opted out of the generous offer by pretty much sprinting to the door screaming. Good thing Alyssa isn't squeamish (she donates plasma). She hopped on it like white on rice.



And that was it, folks. The baby girl we've been waiting on for what seems like forever is now in our arms. Brooke brought her home in a "Daddy Loves Me" onesie, perfectly suited for her since I know Max is beaming with pride wherever he is, and Vincent had a Welcome Home sign and some sweet kisses waiting for her! I actually wouldn't be surprised if he made the sign himself - the kid has the vocabulary of most men I've dated.


Welcome to the world, Avery Brooke! We love you dearly and will soon overstimulate you with squeezes and Raffi music. Here's a prelude to the madness:

all I really need is a song in my heart
food in my bel-ly
and looove in my fam-ily

check, check and check :)

For Daddy's Eyes Only

The only thing missing from yesterday's miracle was you, Max :( here's a sneak peek at your new favorite anniversary present....









She has her momma's lips and the sweetest little disposition... hardly cried at all during her bath :) I promise I'll write her official birth story in the next few days when I get pics from Aly's camera so you can have a better pictorial and all the details.

We miss you terribly, hope all is well on the ship. xoxox

I Don't Make Promises I Can't Keep

Okay, so I didn't get the pic at 6:15am, but I got it!

Check out this uniform ... is that not one of the cutest oxymorons you ever did see??



and this one's going in the record books for obvious reasons. Makes me happy just looking at it.

My Pledge of Allegiance

It's Memorial Day. Have you thanked the service men and women in your life lately? I have. Please look at a couple of those precious heads years and years and years ago...



And when I say YEARS ago, I mean it. They're coming up on their 2nd child, 6th wedding anniversary, and going on 10 total years together.



This is a photo of Brooke pinning Max - I think it was a "thank you in advance for putting up with my shit" pin. I KID I KID.

Speaking of funny things. My goal is to wake up at 6:15 tomorrow morning to snap a pic of Brooke in her maternity uniform as she makes her way into the office (not for much longer!!). Just imagining her barking orders at sassy men all day in an empire waist camo jacket that hardly hides her delicate situation is enough to make me smile. The least I can do is share it with you.

I Have the Talking Stick, So Shut Up

I can't help my inherent negativity today, people. I didn't get coffee this morning and I feel like I'm being punished for years of good health. How can this be?!?

I was the first of many ACL reconstructions on our team in 2002, then broke my foot in 2004. Both recoveries were painless, with -0- complications. But here we are 8 years later and my body is SCREAMING its revenge. I haven't been in this much pain since watching Leonardo DiCaprio kiss his poorly chosen Juliet in '96 (I sincerely hated Claire Danes for at least a year...... ahhh to be 13 again.......)

But the last month has been a game of injury tag between my left knee and my left foot. Now I'm the first to admit my self-control was put on the developmental back burner somewhere around the discovery of Teen Night at Red River, so when my head says "hussy, Body is pissed, take a week off", my other head says "GROSS. YOU ARE GROSSSSSSS. Move. Be active. Do something." The latter of the heads is a bit more assertive than the former. So I go workout - then I ice my parts with frozen corn - then I wake up in the morning unable to move - then I get to lab and write about my body falling apart and how terrible it is to be 28.

Seriously though, the only thing worse than being me right now might be being my sister right now. Girl's been dilated 3cm for a week!! She's all belly, but HUGE. Alyssa and I laugh at her a lot when she waddles to another room and asks us if the ice box she calls a house is too cold. Can't blame her though, it's 90 degrees outside and she's just about 9 months pregnant. We're all eagerly awaiting the arrival of baby Avery, placing our conservative bets on when she'll make her appearance. I put my money on this weekend. Mostly so I won't be so bitter that I didn't get a Memorial Day vacay. BUT ALSO BECAUSE I just can't hardly wait to scoop her in my arms and love the shit out of her.

Thinking about this little, precioushead baby girl, suddenly I'm not a NegativeNancy anymore (and my 800mg ibuprofen is kicking in)

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder, Right?

So apparently it's safe to assume I'll take a blogging hiatus between February and May every year... let's call it a "spring cleaning of the monkey mind", a necessary evil to spur creativity. Or just precious time needed to keep my head above water with school. Even if finals are over, competency exams are not :( This means I should probably be studying everything I've learned since August, but alas, I choose to break my blogging seal of silence instead. A sacrifice for the greater good. And also a byproduct of my ADD.

So Brooke recently went through my blog and extracted every entry about Vincent to put in his baby book. She printed upwards of 30 pages chronicling his first year+ of life! It's apparent I love the crap out of the kid even though he treats diaper changes like a WWE match. AS IF WE ENJOY IT EITHER, SON. But seeing all those entries printed out and being a self-professed advocate for middle children nationwide, "helping fight second child adversity one birth at a time", I have a DUTY to Avery to make my way to a keyboard and chronicle her life too.

I mean, she expressed to me not long ago through a sort of heel-to-belly Morse Code that she's a little worried about it. It's understandable that she wants to be a priority too. Can we blame her for that? She doesn't ask for much - mostly breastmilk, a clean butt and the occasional gawdy pink bow. Despite her mother's efforts, Alyssa and I will make sure the bows happen, but picking up my blog again is really for her. Avery Brooke will get her 30 pages of content in the next year..... because middle children UNITE!



So what's been going on the last 3 months? Oh you know, in no particular order, a gradually growing sister soon to pop, a new house, raising a boy, school, New York, school, Chicago, lab, NASCAR?, school, learning how to nap out of necessity. The usual.









I really wish I had some pictures of lab or studying so my life didn't look so damn fun, essentially making me look like a liar that this semester has been rough..........................I swear. Ask my mom. I haven't talked to her since February.

Anyone seen Father of The Bride II where they keep the house at -30 degrees and everyone except the preggos are walking around in scarves, hats and gloves? That's kind of what it's like here. So I'm headed to make some hot chocolate and curl up in a blanket. In May.

Until next time...

Wrestling. My New Favorite Sport.

My dad used to wrestle... or as he would pronounce it, "wrassle"... so he and grandpa made a day trip to Norman for the Bedlam Series today (wrestling championship between OU and OSU).

It's the first time I've played spectator to this particular sport and I'm wondering why it took me so long - those tight adult onesies and bulging biceps never hurt nobody, and you can't tell they're 5'5" from up in the stands, so everybody wins! I was cringing for a hot second when one wrestler was in the splits being dragged by his foot across the mat, but it didn't seem to bother him at all.

Fortunately for OSU, not so fortunate for me, the crowd was nothing short of enthusiastic. I made the huge mistake of thinking I could study for my Energy Nutrients exam during the competitions, so I was that girl that brought her books to a wrestling match. I don't even think there is "a girl" like that, but that's what I did. So I had to ditch the loudness for the familiar peace and quiet of the campus corner Starbucks. I pulled up a chair, made out with my coffee for a second and thought about the great decision I just made. I opened my book and started down the metabolic pathway of gluconeogenisis memorizing enzymes, ATP products, etc... when out of no where came my worst nightmare.

We'll call him Homeless Harry.


He was wearing jeans up to his neck, headphones from the 80's and OH HOW I WISH YOU COULD SEE IT... a sheriff's badge. He was nice enough to leave his trashbag outside, but he decided to sit r i g h t n e x t t o m e. I wouldn't have minded so much if it weren't for the moderately offensive odor competing with my vanilla latte and the Shrek-level chatter he was uttering constantly. I ordinarily would've given him some cash, but he was ruining my great decision to leave the match! He was definitely more distracting than men in tights and I couldn't possibly get up and move just because he sat there. That's rude even to homeless people.

So I challenged myself to focus (something I have a pretty hard time doing), but I couldn't because when he would start rambling, he'd turn in my direction. This little gesture made people think he was with me.

Don't worry, I'm pretty sure he was completely unaware that anyone else was in the Starbucks with him - let alone that I was taking his pic and making him famous on the internet.