The Adventures of Super Q

I keep outdoing myself with these long pauses of blogging. Keep trying to shake you people -- but you've got quite a grip! Much like a certain little girl I know.

So where did we last leave our tiny but ever-growing heroine...?

After her little Birthday Bash, we had a busy work week (to make it even more busy, I returned to my Master's program), then my parents came to town for a visit on their way to Florida for work. Quinn and the dog were delighted.

Reunited with their youngest grandchild, my parents looked complete. Jack and I were mere spectators, but we loved every minute of it.

Within a few days of my parents leaving, Jack had a Army bash in Nashville that we had quite some preparing for...

The only suitable dress I had turned up at a dry-cleaner's in Massachusetts, we needed to coordinate with the babysitter how to get to the hotel we'd all be staying at, any shoes the dog might find had to be stashed since he gets a foot fetish whenever we leave town, and in the meantime we would also need to pack for our short annual ski trip to Utah.

Yeah, THAT ski trip. The one that last year caused Quinn to be a Utah native instead of a Cali kid.

It was a cluster, to say the least, but all went well and we had a blast. The flight to Utah felt a bit like a time machine because we had gone to bed after midnight and by 5am were at the airport not having a clue if we'd packed anything other than diapers.

I'm not a big drinker, but I feel hungover any day I have to wake up before 5am. That just isn't natural.

We weren't really eager to subject Lil Lil (as she's also known) to yet another journey across country (by the end of this trip, it would be her 9th flight!). But this trip was special. It was our chance to see our close friends Tom and Jill, while Tom was back on a break from his year deployment to Iraq.

Had we missed it (and THANK YOU Army, we almost did), it would be somewhere between two and three years since the last time Jack had seen Tom, and we just couldn't let that happen.

Besides, the mountains had snow! Almost as much as the dumping Tennessee had (see Quinn riding in our makeshift sled, touring our TN 'hood).

As expected, the trip to Utah was fabulous... I'm starting to think EVERYTHING in Utah is fabulous.

Giving up a half day of skiing, Jack braved a tour of the NICU where Quinn and I spent the first two months of her life. One of the nurses took him to the room where my NICU buddy, Tiffany, and I spent countless hours hovering over our kids, and showed him a baby about the same size and gestational age Quinn was when she was born.

He couldn't believe you could pick such a tiny being up without breaking her. And to think she was one of bigger premies!

While Jack got entrenched in all things-NICU, Quinn and I hung out in the hallway with some of the amazing and wonderful nurses I befriended there.

As crappy as it was to have a premie, Quinn couldn't have been born in a better place! I can't believe how much I adore and miss those ladies. It felt like a whole 'nother kind of homecoming for me, and Quinn was bubbling over with joy.

Despite having my camera hung around my neck, I totally spaced on taking pictures until I met up for lunch with two of them -- Emily & Galina, and Galina's newborn, Peter. Phew!

From there we stopped by the Ronald McDonald House where I burrowed a home in the snow...

And yes, it looks like a B&B because it used to be. Wasn't quite B&B kind fun while I was living there, but I so appreciated a quiet and beautiful home to be in while trying to stay sane.

After touring Salt Lake and grabbing a bite at the tasty crepe place, the three of us headed to Park City to meet Uncle Tom and Auntie Jill.

To really pack in the fun, the plan was for Tiffany and her family to drive down and spend the night there too, so we could spend the next day cross-country skiing with the premie pack.

But shortly after we arrived in Utah, Tiffany called to say the boys had a cold. It probably wasn't RSV (a particularly nasty virus for premies) since they had the vaccine against it, but it was a cold nonetheless.

They were still willing to make the drive down, but being as neurotic as we, they figured it was probably best to cancel. Quinn hadn't had her first cold yet, and we were trying to keep it that way until RSV season was over in April. It was a huge disappointment, but we promised to have a reunion this summer or fall, the next chance we get, and to skype plenty in the meantime.

Well, long story short... The trip to Utah was fantastic. Quinn had her first experience spending the day with a babysitter. Jack and Tom had time to get all caught up on Army life, deployment details, and plenty of fresh tracks down the mountain. And Jill and I impressed the two of them, and ourselves, after we boot-packed to ski down some crazy heights.

The trip back to Tennessee was smooth and all went well until a few days later when I started to get sick... and then, Quinn started to get sick. Unfortunately, sporting a mask and sterilizing everything I touched didn't keep it from getting into her system.

Was kind of hoping to be the first to give her a driving lesson, or a hug after a teenage heartbreak, but not her first cold!!! I felt like such a failure, and a giant a-hole.

The first chance I got I took her to the doc, only to hear the horrid news that she probably had RSV.

After two months in the NICU, you too would be convinced that RSV is the virtual plague for a premie. It's bad bad bad. Yet this doctor wasn't freaking out. Her only cause for alarm seemed to be because it looked like I might pass out.

Both my parents and Tiffany gasped when I told them the prognosis, which made me feel a bit more sane for being freaked.

She gave us some instructions to help get her weight up (over the course of three weeks, she's down from 16lb 3oz to 16lb 1oz...gulp!), some antibiotics for her ear-infection (now I'm ready to sob), and something to lessen the pain in her ear canal.

As of yesterday, it wasn't clear if or when either of us would get better. But this afternoon, Quinn is definitely more like herself (i.e. abusing the dog, bouncing and squealing in Jack's arms like a rockstar, and blowing spit bubbles at me).

So, the lesson for today has been: less coughing = less cough-induced vomiting, which means more calories, which (I'll help you extrapolate if you aren't good at logic) is a good thing.

So, take many loads of vomit-laundry, add a few tons of Kleenex, and top with three or four mind-bending graduate school papers... you wind up with one very bad blogger.

But, we are certain to still come out ahead -- or so I think (can you tell I'm not so good at math?). More health and (hopefully) humor to come...

Until then,

Love from Super Q and Her Entourage

Are We There Yet???

Long time no talk... I'm really striving to be a bag blogger it seems. So I'll try to bring ya'll up to date.

We did make it back safely from our cross-country roadtrip. Memphis was great, and Quinn dined at her first Southern BBQ joint. The staff at Central BBQ was so enamored with her they gave her some plain grilled chicken to gnaw on while we wolfed down things I won't publicly admit to ingesting.

A grandmother at another table thought we must have been starving her when she saw how this tiny child could inhale chicken bits. The college students sitting nearby couldn't help but notice her trying to flirt with them and flirt right back, which brought out her rock-concert squeal making the night feel like a happy end to our long trip.

Early the next afternoon, which was three weeks after we'd left town, Jack, Quinn and I were finally back in our own house. The trouble was, it didn't feel much like a home.

A few days before we had left Tennessee, we decided we should have the filthy, nasty, pee-scented carpeting we inherited from the previous owners taken out and replaced with wood floors. The upside would be that we wouldn't be around for the noise and dust, but we had to move all our of furniture out of my office and our bedroom. Not a big deal, but not exactly fun either.

Long story short, since we were doing the floors we also decided to finally rid our lives of the freakish colors too and paint the walls of those rooms... which we had yet to do.

So our return home from a fun, but not entirely relaxing trip, was to roll up our sleeves and get a bit messy whenever Quinn was cooperative enough to take a long nap. Then after she went to bed we'd knock ourselves out spackling, priming, and painting until 2am when we'd collapse on the living room couch.

A good friend who was scheduled to come out for a visit had offered to come anyway with paintbrush in hand, but realized what a mess we and the house were and offered to visit another time.

By Tuesday, when Jack had to return to work, the painting was complete and we were sleeping in our own bed... Now picking out our mistakes in the paint job instead of someone else's.

Then before we knew it, we were back in the car heading down to Alabama to visit friends who we had hoped to see on the drive back from California.

Climbing into the car for another 7 hour drive wasn't exactly what we'd been hoping to do, but we'd systematized how to keep Super Q feeling pretty super even though she would spend the time straight-jacketed in a carseat.

Besides, we knew she would have a blast as soon as we set her loose around the dozen people who would be gathering to welcome Jack back and meet her for the first time. And if that didn't do it, we hoped Quinn would forgive us when she had her first taste of cake because she'd be turning a year old among her new collection of friends.

And that is precisely how it went.

Quinn had a comfortable ride, and made herself right at home as she explored every corner of our friend Sue's house.

When new people arrived the next day, she was eager to play with someone other than her drab parents, and kept us all guessing at what all her babble might really have meant.

Saturday evening, the house began to fill up with new faces and the growing clamor of a celebration.

Conflicted by her body's fatigue and the thrill of her first party, Quinn would rub her eyes and let out a feeble cry and then muster the energy to flash a smile and wave at the next arriving friend. And so, it was a long fussy night until she gave in and passed out.

But it was a night to remember as Quinn had her first taste of dairy-free chocolate-free (but definitely not sugar-free) frosting, and loved it.

After Skyping with her Grandparents in California, Quinn received a load of presents, and lots of attention as people lined up with super sanitized hands to give a hug to the Birthday Girl. If this party set the bar for birthday bashes, we are in for a festive future, that's for sure!

Home at last,
The Travelin' Murphys

Santa and His Blue-Suede Shoes

Last time Jack and I took a road trip was for his R&R back in April.

We rented an RV and poked along the California coast, familiarizing ourselves with the Sonoma County vineyards as we fumbled our way through the unfamiliar territory of parenting.

This time we have a slightly better clue of what we are supposed to do with such a little passenger in tow, but of course the game has changed and Quinn too now has her own ideas of what we should and shouldn’t do.

One thing that didn’t go over big was when half an hour farther down the road, horrified, I realized I’d left my bag (ok, purse) in a Starbucks and we had to turn around. Or as we headed towards sunrise and heard something like a bullet hit the car.

That time, Quinn knew it wasn’t something worth waking for. Nonetheless, her parents and the dog made quite a commotion when they realized not a bullet but a rock had fallen from an overpass and shattered the car’s back window.

After the chore of getting the window fixed in Flagstaff, Arizona, we all enjoyed a day’s break from the breakneck speed of the highway when Jack and Quinn saw Santa Fe for the first time.

There wasn’t much patience for museum hopping, but we did peek at some O’Keefe portraits of the desert landscape.

Meanwhile, Quinn summoned a small crowd when she flashed her three teeth at a group of tourists. Before we knew what was happening, five strangers were gathered around letting her flirt her way into their field of view.

By the time we left, they said getting to see her entire face smile had eclipsed the rest of the museum’s artwork.

Being entirely objective, we happened to agree but were generous enough not to charge an admission fee.

Now we’re back on the road, heading out of Oklahoma and on to Beale Street in Elvis’ hometown.

All the best from,
The Memphis-Bound Murphys

On the Road, Again

A bit belated, but a Happy Holidays and Merry New Year to all of you!

We've been on a bit of a whirlwind since Jack's return to the States, it's been fun and all but I'm about ready for things to settle back down.

Since it had been well over a year since Jack's parents had seen him, and they had yet to meet their first grandchild, we headed to Seattle to see them and friends that are family.

The weather was stellar, as it always seems to be in Seattle when I go (makes me think those are some lyin' locals who speak of "endless rain" just to keep us Californians from invading).

But the weather was just the highlight to the reunion with Jack's folks and their introduction to Quinn.

Her grandmother, Nguyet, couldn't resist trying to give Quinn jewels of jade and telling her stories about how Jack loved his bottle of milk even after he started school.

Meanwhile, Grandpa Jim crawled around on the floor with her exploring all that Quinn found fascinating and pretending to find it as such too. It was a short visit, but instantly became a treasured memory.

We then spent Christmas day with Madeline Quinn's namesake -- lovingly known as "Auntie Maddy," which was just the relaxing day we had been craving.

There weren't any presents to unwrap, but a lot of catching up and laughing to do over fantastic food and a beautiful walk around Lake Washington.

Awaiting us down the coast at my parents' place was our dog and my beloved Subaru, so we wrapped things up and hit the road yet again. Considering it's nearly a thousand mile trip, Jack and I were especially grateful our rental car happened to be a hybrid.

We built in a few treats for ourselves by stopping in Portland and Berkeley long enough to see my friends and their spouses (Luna, from my days at Smith, and my high school friend Rachel -- and to meet her super cute and super tall 6-month old daughter, Isabella). That was a real pleasure for us and Quinn, but another would be found once we got to Monterey.

Quinn was greeted with a welcoming committee unlike any other when the three dogs started to jump out of orbit with glee and her only two cousins came running to the car door.

Who knew that a 10-year old boy would find his infant niece any fun (it probably helped that we took them to see elephants and a hyena...). But because he and his 6-year old sister took such interest in her, Quinn now squeals with glee whenever she sees their pictures.

The final departure from my parents' place was tough. We extended it by a day because it was just a little too painful to peel Quinn and the dog away without a little more time for all of us to adjust to our new reality.

When I left for a year in Monterey I was hopeful all would go well and it wouldn't blow up in my face damaging my relationship with my parents. Fortunately that was far from the case.

It is rare that an adult gets to return to live under her parents' roof and it not be unhappy circumstances.

That I had that opportunity to share a space with two people I admire more than virtually any other, without the veil of teenage angst, was a real gift. And that not only did I benefit -- but so did Quinn -- was ever the more a year to cherish.

So now the three of us and the dog are back on the road, making our way to Tennessee.

Quinn has adapted as best as a kid could to such an erratic schedule, and shown herself to have a most patient, resilient, and sweet of dispositions... We just hope it lasts so that even in her teenage angst she can enjoy another roadtrip now and then with her folks.

Love from the road for the New Year,
The Midgety Murphys