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.

My New Favorite Picture

It could be because he's walking around with his favorite family picture and a duster of all things, because that's just hilarious... or because there just aint anything cuter than a babe in the nude caught red handed :)

Who's Your Daddy

I've been waiting for some inspiration for this blog post.

Some might say the 15+ inches of snow we've had here in OKC in the last 2 weeks is inspiration enough, but SHAME ON ME, what do I have to show for it? Just these photos taken from the comfort of central heat and the PJs I didn't change out of in 72 hours.




The first snow day was so fun! The anticipation of the white fluffiness, the canceled classes, the family time . . . then the second, third and fourth days came and I started to feel my muscles atrophy and brain cells die. I needed stimulation. Then we went back to school! It was great! FOR ONE DAY. Until the next snow storm came through, and then the white fluffiness just became a nuisance.

I could tell you about yesterday when I forgot to leave the hot water faucet on drip and the pipes to the upstairs bathroom froze, but that's embarrassing, so let's move on.

Instead, I'll tell you about why it's a bittersweet day in the 16th Street Village. While I'm being held hostage by my bed, recovering from the mildest form of the stomach bug going around the house, I can hear my broNlaw singing and working and spending quality time with the OtherOtherWhiteMeat. Hearing a dad playing with his son doesn't normally send me into a sinking depression, but M is leaving for Norfolk tomorrow on the next journey of his career with the Navy :(

Who else is going to bring home a seasonal smorgasbord of tasty beer beverages for me to sample?? And while my sister is incredibly intelligent, very few can hold a candle to our Walking Encyclopedia. I might actually have to start looking things up again! That also makes me sad. Don't even get me started on how handy it is to have him around in times of freezing pipes. But even more than all those things, I'm sad that the OtherOtherWhiteMeat has no idea what's about to happen and is surely going to miss him.

I'll try my hardest to mimic the masculine BET dance moves M taught him and grunt with sound effects, but you just can't fake testosterone and you just can't replace Dad.







GEEZ - I'm not one for sappy blog posts, but way to kick me while I'm down! As I was typing this, M was putting the OtherOtherWhiteMeat down for bed and all I heard was, "...I'll be far away, but I'll be thinking of you every day. And we'll talk on the phone and we'll..."

You have to be a freaking tin man to hear that and NOT curl up in the fetal and cry yourself to sleep!

Or maybe I'm just emotional because we'll have a newborn here in 4 months and I can kiss my beloved sleep goodbye. I can't really separate the two right this second. I've been in bed all day, I'm going crazy.

I know it's not forever, but an entire year sure seems that way right now. We'll miss you, M xoxox

Thoughts Swinging From Limb to Limb

I was halfway out the door to get a 10 o'clock snack because I'm starving for some unknown reason, but I got sidetracked by a sister on my bed playing with her virtual baby, Dartanian, and the random thought that I needed to buy another text book... so now I'm blogging.

I spun blood for the first time last week. There were no "Outbreak" moments where I cut my glove and contracted a deadly virus, so I'd say it went well. Other than one little thing that I c o u l d n o t believe I was being reprimanded for at school.

After we spin the blood, the extracted serum is placed in a small box with other blood samples in a huge freezer (about twice the size of a regular fridge). It has 6-7 drawers behind two double reinforced doors of solid steel. Imagine my surprise when I took the little box out of our drawer, walked it over to the table about four feet away to put the new serum in.. a process that would take all of 30 seconds.. and my lab partner very kindly told me to "shut the door when [I] do that". That's like asking someone to remove their tires while they wash their rims!! I'm fully aware that's the worst analogy ever, but I'm trying to convey how INCONVENIENT that is to shut a million heavy doors, only to open them up 30 seconds later. Ugh.

Anyway, almost immediately I broke into laughter at the anticipation of telling my big sister B all about this ("B" is a nod to her anonymity, not to be confused with "bitch"). She's repeated this line to me multiple times during my stay in her village, so I knew she'd get ample satisfaction out of the irony. Admittedly, I'd usually get a little peeved at her request/comments, but in that moment at the lab I realized I must really have a problem. Even though refilling a Britta jug is just a tiny bit less important than blood serum, I'm still going to change my ways.

Oh. The other day I was forced by little sister A (a nod to her anonymity, not to be confused with "awesome" or the grades she makes) to run 120's in an arctic blast. I'm all about helping her get back in shape to kick ass on the soccer field, but I'm not getting paid for this shit. Hearing ice crunching under my cleats was NOT okay. I could feel icicles forming on my alveoli. My toes were turning black from frostbite, close to a point of no return. Never again.

And lastly. I was sitting at the dining room table enjoying some girl talk while baby V (a nod to his anonymity, not to be confused with "viceroy") toddled around screaming at his new high pitch level that only dogs and Andersons can hear, we hope - it's just darling. So in an effort to distract him from his new talent, I dropped to my knees, looked him in the eye and said, "Sweetie. Be a doll and go get the mail. That's what men of the house do." And what does that crazysmart 14 month old do? Walked his butt through the livingroom, around the couch, over to the mail slot in the door and picked up the friggin' mail.

I swear, I live with three geniuses and my little sister.

Christmas Break, Take Two

Now where was I?

Oh yes... the Dude Ranch

In order to get us all on the same trail ride, dad "stretched the truth" a bit by telling the lady we all had "horseback experience". Mom rode a horse every day... THIRTY-FIVE years ago. Alyssa had a friend with horses? Brooke is strong like a horse? And I had some experience falling off a few of them in my childhood. Either way, we spent the whole drive there going over the things that most people with horseback experience would know, so we didn't foil dad's little plan

1) don't walk directly behind a horse and get the shit kicked out of you
2) get on from the left side, left leg in the stirrup, and whip your right leg up and over
3) there shouldn't be a gap between your crotch and the saddle when you're trotting. "That's what the city girls do".

Awesome, I got this.

So we get there and the first thing they ask is: who has the least experience? Of course the entire family looks over at me. Since most of my time was spent being trampled by the horses, I'll take that... so they gave me the horse they call the babysitter. He was old and calm, and was lagging so far behind the rest of the pack, I got a ton of great pictures of my family's asses. And the countryside and some buffalo.




That right there is the result of not being a city girl and hugging the saddle to avoid 'gaps'. Left us limping for 3 days straight!!

We had some good laughs out on the prairie...where the wind come sweepin' down the plains... and came back to the sweetest little cowboy and a huge steak at sunset.

Dude ranch = good choice

A few days later, I rang in the New Year at a little house party with my both my sisters from other misters


Ooooh love them!! Life is good.

And now 3 weeks later, it's January 20th and I'm back in school. I decided it'd look good on my resume to become a graduate research assistant in the Origins of Human Disease Lab, working on a study for one of my professors. One of my responsibilities is to host blood draw clinics for our pregnant mother participants and handle the separation of the serum from the platelets via centrifuge so the blood can be processed and tested for glucose, insulin and lipids...... very serious stuff. I can be serious when I have to be.

Seriously.

The Million Dollar Question

My days are numbered here at the 16th Street Village.

It's nothing I did. As far as I know, I'm the perfect house guest minus the occasional "Ashley dropping" and loving people too much (that's how I see it and until one of my roommates gets a blog, that's how it will stay). It's an issue of numbers. I've never been a math whiz, but when I tried to get into the kitchen today and couldn't get to the bananas because a flurry of people and toddlers were walking in and out of the house, I realized it's a numbers thing. 1 girl needs 1 banana, but 5 million people in not 5 million square feet means no banana until 5 million people are subtracted out or more square feet are added.

Seeing as Brooke is due with baby #2 in June, the "subtract people" option doesn't work... so we're moving just a few streets over to a house I can do cartwheels in and a backyard Vin can run circles in. It's ohsovery fun and nice and good, except my room desperately needs to be painted. (I promise I'm getting somewhere with this story). It's teal. With green and brown bubbles floating in random places. It's so pre-teen, and I loved being a pre-teen, but I put away my childish ways long ago. Except for calling shotgun and hating onions.

Now Brooke has been gracious enough to give me the option of suggesting colors for my room in her house, HOWEVER, she feels strongly in Color Feng Shui of levels. I made that term up, but something about complimentary colors of rooms throughout the house. I don't know, I don't decorate whole houses. All this meant to me was: I need to know what color she's painting the new nursery before I can even make suggestions, and to get there, she needs to know the answer to The Million Dollar Question

IS IT A BOY or GIRL

Not that she'd deck out the nursery in navy blue or pastel pink anyway, that's just not her style (which I am in TOTAL agreement with), but she needed a general direction ... and today, at 19 weeks, the gender compass pointed ...



That right there, my friends, is a .7 lb baby with nothing but 2 arms and 2 legs, if you catch my drift!!! A bundle of baby girl joy is on the way and I am SO excited!!! Not because I wouldn't have L O V E D another nephew, but because diversity is always good. I mean, she'll have Anderson blood in her, so I'm not counting on a quiet, reserved female per se, but just any bit of girly will do! Brooke told me almost immediately that she won't let us put crazy bows in her hair every day, but as Father Stand In, I reserve the right to put what I please on her head when I please to do it. Or when Brooke isn't looking anyway.

Just kidding, Brooke. Seriously, I mean it. Just kidding.

Oh thank heaven for little girls

Epic-ness

Dr. Phil, Oprah and I think that positive self-speak on a daily basis is important to maintaining optimal mental health... but when your birthday falls on 1-11-11, it's especially important. As such, I'm offering a moment of silence to the Universe for the epic year I know I'm about to have. Cheers.


And thank you, Jesus. I'm one blessed little lady.

The Glory Days

... they still have the 'ol Has Beens on Rice's camp site! single tear. sniff, sniff.

Oh Christ-mas Tree, Oh Christ-mas Tree, My Break Was An Entire Month Looooong

After living out of a suitcase for just under 3 weeks, my pale ass is back in OKC and finally settled in! It took about 3 days to get used to my new room layout (apparently my choice of furniture placement doesn't show well to potential buyers)... it took about 3 minutes to get used to the weather - and by "get used to", I mean "decide I'm never going outside" ... but it only took 3 seconds to get used to having nothing to do and nowhere to be :) Much like opposable thumbs and my Potawatomi heritage, I really took Christmas Break for granted. I haven't had time to organize my sock drawer since May of 2001 and it's amazing, this thing called free time!

Christmas was one of the best yet. The OtherOtherWhiteMeat is walking all over the place, usually in circles, and climbing all over things. Except ChuckECheese. This pretty much tells the story about how that trip went...

He won't be afraid when he figures out you get DOUBLE tokens for each 'A' on your report card. That's like 5 extra go 'rounds on the Siiiide Winder. Man, I love that place.




So also this Christmas break, I met my new parents! I've known them all my life, but it's just recently that the image of bell bottoms and long hair (on both of them) has given rise to a sweet little picture of pure country. Apparently most every night, dad puts on some tunes and a fire, mom pours a glass of wine and they watch their favorite evening entertainment, Perry the possum. He walks across the backyard to the leftover birdseed on the ground, eats it, and walks back across the yard. Ya'll, they talk about it for like 30 minutes and sometimes text their daughters something fascinating like: "Perry stopped in the clearing and looked over at us." The build up is almost too much to handle! I MEAN, WHAT WILL PERRY DO NEXT?? I got to witness this activity, if you will, with my own eyes... it only seemed natural to take Perry's picture and introduce him to the internet...

Right in tune with this new CountryBumpkin image I have of them and their love for sprawling land, peace and quiet, my dad planned a little vacay to Quartz Mountain near Altus, OK to watch some eagles. I saw ONE, from about 300 yards away, but the other part of the vacation was awesome. I rode next to CountryBumpkin's offspring, Sleeping Diva, through a bunch of cotton fields, small towns and tumani tutanka (c'mon, you haven't seen Dances With Wolves?)


We stayed in a little cabin amongst Rudolf's prancing cohorts, naked trees and, according to our father, some boogeymen... one of which tried to attack me our last night there. OKAYYY, what I thought was a white midget boogeyman moving very fast, might have been my mom walking down the hallway with a pillow. But it freaked me out... we had just watched Fargo!

We ate lots of delicious food, climbed gorgeous mountains, enjoyed many-a-game of dominoes (most frustrating game EVER to play with this sarcastic family), went for nature walks and runs and picked cotton from a nearby farm. We made Alyssa do that, just in case Farmer Johnson was sittin' on his porch with a rifle.








Then there was the Dude Ranch. I was so excited to put on what I thought was a Dude Ranch outfit, until my big sister delivered The Low Blow of the vacation when she said I looked 'so metropolitan'. THE NERVE. I'm known for being a bit sensitive, but I shrugged it off nicely if I do say so myself. And tapped into the Beverly Hillbilly in me for the obligatory pose with hay and a pitchfork.

Seriously? Metropolitan?? w h a t e v e r

We have a house showing in like .5 seconds. This just turned into a 2-part series. Goodbye now.