A Day in the Life of a Hockey Wife is featured at BlogExpat.com today!
To read my interview, and many others from around the world, stop by BlogExpat.com.
May 3, 2013
From the USA to Germany
A Day in the Life of a Hockey Wife is featured at BlogExpat.com today!
To read my interview, and many others from around the world, stop by BlogExpat.com.
Copyright 2011 A Day in the Life of a Hockey Wife.
April 10, 2013
Single Infertile Female
I am so far beyond proud of my dear friend, Leah, as she accomplishes a
life-long dream with the release of her first book: Single Infertile
Female.
“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in the baby carriage.”
That’s how the story goes, right? We all grow up hearing the same fairy tales, and imagining the same futures. But what happens when the future you have always pictured for yourself, is ripped away before you ever even get the chance to pursue it?
Single Infertile Female tells the story of a girl, still young and looking for love, who is hit with a medical diagnosis that threatens to destroy the future she always believed she would have. Faced with a choice between now or never, she has to decide if love and marriage should always have to come first. And if they don’t, can you still keep looking for them, even while actively pursuing that baby in the baby carriage?
Leah, I love you to the moon and back. It is simply impossible for me to put into words how grateful I am for your friendship. You have taught me to view and appreciate motherhood in new ways. You have challenged me to become a better friend, a better wife, and a better mother. And your strength and determination have been nothing short of inspiring.
Today, and always, I wish you all the love, happiness, and success in the world.
If you would like to purchase Single Infertile Female, you can find it here (Kindle and print). Oh, and don't mind my shout out. Wink wink.
I cannot wait to read my Kindle copy on my flight home next week!
“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in the baby carriage.”
That’s how the story goes, right? We all grow up hearing the same fairy tales, and imagining the same futures. But what happens when the future you have always pictured for yourself, is ripped away before you ever even get the chance to pursue it?
Single Infertile Female tells the story of a girl, still young and looking for love, who is hit with a medical diagnosis that threatens to destroy the future she always believed she would have. Faced with a choice between now or never, she has to decide if love and marriage should always have to come first. And if they don’t, can you still keep looking for them, even while actively pursuing that baby in the baby carriage?
Leah, I love you to the moon and back. It is simply impossible for me to put into words how grateful I am for your friendship. You have taught me to view and appreciate motherhood in new ways. You have challenged me to become a better friend, a better wife, and a better mother. And your strength and determination have been nothing short of inspiring.
Today, and always, I wish you all the love, happiness, and success in the world.
If you would like to purchase Single Infertile Female, you can find it here (Kindle and print). Oh, and don't mind my shout out. Wink wink.
I cannot wait to read my Kindle copy on my flight home next week!
Copyright 2011 A Day in the Life of a Hockey Wife.
January 27, 2013
Calder
Calder was born on December 31, 2012 at 6:19 pm.
He weighed 6 pounds, 7 ounces and was 18.5 inches.
Stay tuned for more ...
Copyright 2011 A Day in the Life of a Hockey Wife.
December 6, 2012
"Sandra" & "Mike"
No autographs, please. I'm too busy being famous. Duh.
A Day in the Life of a Hockey Wife was featured in a hockey news magazine in Villach, Austria.
Pretty cool, right?
Sent it to a German friend to translate, crossed my fingers, and hoped like hell that she wouldn't say, "Um, they're saying you're a crazy hockey wife who needs to get a life and shut up." That would be my luck these days. But according to her, they said nothing of the sort.
Whew.
Apparently I'm funny, I speak the truth, and I am the "chief" at home.
Damn right.
Thank you for sharing, Heather! Much appreciated.
"Sandra" & "Mike", signing off.
Copyright 2011 A Day in the Life of a Hockey Wife.
October 15, 2012
"Pee in that cup and put it on that shelf."
Lacking any semblance of grace, I stumbled through the first few minutes of my first German prenatal appointment.
The nurse didn't speak any English, aside from being able to tell me that I needed to "pee in that cup and put it on that shelf" and that she would "take blood later". And she wasn't impressed that I didn't speak German. That's okay. I'm not impressed that I don't speak German either.
I need to get on that.
She recorded my weight. I looked away. She asked for my height. We both gave up when we realized we would have to convert inches to centimeters. She asked for my Mutterpass. I obviously didn't have one as I have never given birth in Germany, but I handed her copies of my medical records from home.
She took a lot of deep breaths. The "I'm really annoyed by you" kind.
We had a breakthrough when she drew six viles of blood. I curled into the fetal position, closed my eyes, and gave her my arm. She stroked my face and said, "Sweet baby."
I'll admit that my standards were fairly low when it came to finding a new doctor. I was simply hoping for someone who a) spoke a little English b) wasn't going to talk about my vagina with anyone other than me and c) wouldn't so much as utter the word 'hockey' while my legs are in stirrups.
It's not too much to ask. You would think that just about any doctor would suffice. But in this town, as I learned the hard way, you would be wrong.
This doctor's English was quite limited. I wouldn't call her an English-speaking doctor by any means. In hindsight, I probably should have given the language barrier issue a little more consideration, a little earlier on.
She told me I was 27 weeks based on my LMP. I'm 25 weeks and ultrasounds have confirmed it. It's complicated and has everything to do with Mirena and lots of other boring girly things. Things that are impossible to discuss when you're speaking two different languages.
I asked how far in advance my c-section would be scheduled. Her response was, "Oh, you're having another c-section?" Um. Have you seen my husband? No, she hasn't. She doesn't know who he is, and that's a good thing. But seriously? I tried to explain the hellish ordeal that was Linden's birth and why the odds are against me again this time around. I think most of it was lost on her, so I moved on.
I asked if there would be someone available to perform a circumcision after the baby is born. She had no idea what I was talking about. Of course this ended up being the conversation in which I had to resort to hand gestures. You can only imagine.
I didn't bother asking if English-speaking Hebammes are available. Based on this experience, I'm going to go ahead and say the chances are slim on that one.
I'm going to have to bring a German friend to my next appointment, because in reality, I need answers to those questions and I need more than a thumbs up to feel comfortable. No, it wasn't the most successful Q&A session, but when it comes to this new doctor, I feel like it's a much better fit.
Because I was the focus of this appointment.
My baby was the focus of this appointment.
Not my husband or his hockey.
And hey, I don't have to worry about my vagina making the fan forums.
Bonus!
The nurse didn't speak any English, aside from being able to tell me that I needed to "pee in that cup and put it on that shelf" and that she would "take blood later". And she wasn't impressed that I didn't speak German. That's okay. I'm not impressed that I don't speak German either.
I need to get on that.
She recorded my weight. I looked away. She asked for my height. We both gave up when we realized we would have to convert inches to centimeters. She asked for my Mutterpass. I obviously didn't have one as I have never given birth in Germany, but I handed her copies of my medical records from home.
She took a lot of deep breaths. The "I'm really annoyed by you" kind.
We had a breakthrough when she drew six viles of blood. I curled into the fetal position, closed my eyes, and gave her my arm. She stroked my face and said, "Sweet baby."
I'll admit that my standards were fairly low when it came to finding a new doctor. I was simply hoping for someone who a) spoke a little English b) wasn't going to talk about my vagina with anyone other than me and c) wouldn't so much as utter the word 'hockey' while my legs are in stirrups.
It's not too much to ask. You would think that just about any doctor would suffice. But in this town, as I learned the hard way, you would be wrong.
This doctor's English was quite limited. I wouldn't call her an English-speaking doctor by any means. In hindsight, I probably should have given the language barrier issue a little more consideration, a little earlier on.
She told me I was 27 weeks based on my LMP. I'm 25 weeks and ultrasounds have confirmed it. It's complicated and has everything to do with Mirena and lots of other boring girly things. Things that are impossible to discuss when you're speaking two different languages.
I asked how far in advance my c-section would be scheduled. Her response was, "Oh, you're having another c-section?" Um. Have you seen my husband? No, she hasn't. She doesn't know who he is, and that's a good thing. But seriously? I tried to explain the hellish ordeal that was Linden's birth and why the odds are against me again this time around. I think most of it was lost on her, so I moved on.
I asked if there would be someone available to perform a circumcision after the baby is born. She had no idea what I was talking about. Of course this ended up being the conversation in which I had to resort to hand gestures. You can only imagine.
I didn't bother asking if English-speaking Hebammes are available. Based on this experience, I'm going to go ahead and say the chances are slim on that one.
I'm going to have to bring a German friend to my next appointment, because in reality, I need answers to those questions and I need more than a thumbs up to feel comfortable. No, it wasn't the most successful Q&A session, but when it comes to this new doctor, I feel like it's a much better fit.
Because I was the focus of this appointment.
My baby was the focus of this appointment.
Not my husband or his hockey.
And hey, I don't have to worry about my vagina making the fan forums.
Bonus!
Copyright 2011 A Day in the Life of a Hockey Wife.
October 10, 2012
NHL Lockout Impacts European Leagues
| What import rules? The Hockey Wife Oct 9, 2012 - 6:20:35 AM |
|
GERMANY - Unless you are living under a rock, you have (like me) been inundated with talk of the NHL lockout.
Over the past few weeks, my inbox has been flooded with e-mails from family, friends, fans, and followers of A Day in the Life of a Hockey Wife inquiring about the lockout and how it might affect us ..."
Read the rest of this article now, at Pro Hockey News.
Copyright 2011 A Day in the Life of a Hockey Wife.
Welcome to the last four days of my life.
Can you get me some Sprite? Can you make me some soup? Can you bring me my blanket? Do we have ice cream? No? Can you get some? Do we have chicken broth? No? Can you make some? Can you turn the TV on? Can you turn Slingbox on? Can you make me a Neocitran? Do we have any Nyquil?
Welcome to the last four days of my life.
You thought it was Linden asking for those things? No. That was my almost-32 year old man-child, also known as my husband.
Like clockwork, the weather changed and my husband came down with what he swears is a life-threatening cold of some sort (otherwise known as the woe-is-me-man-flu). I swear, he has the worst immune system of anyone I have ever known; the slightest chill and he's on his deathbed.
The team doctor instructed him to take four or five days off from skating.
By the start of day two, I had become so tired of him asking for random, individual things that I finally asked him to make a list of things he wanted me to pick up at the store.
I went to Edeka and was able to cross everything off the list. Well, all but one thing. At the bottom of the list, he had written two €50 paysafe cards. Ugh. I knew what that meant.
Poker was making a comeback.
Too sick to skate? Definitely. Too sick to go to the grocery store? So he said. Too sick to make himself soup? Uh huh. Too sick for poker? No way. Yep, this is a serious case of the man-flu.
I handed him the paysafe cards and before I had finished putting the groceries away, he had nine tournaments going in the best online casinos on his monitor.
I so did not miss the sounds of online poker.
Ding. Ding ding. Ding.
My husband has a handful of annoying habits. The one that irritates me the most (okay, second most, because the first has to do with his toenails)? If he's playing poker, he's clanking his poker chips. He does these little tricks with them between his fingers. When they hit each other, it's like nails on a chalkboard. Irritating.
Clank. Clank clank clank. Clank.
On his second monitor, he had some sort of World Poker Tour re-run streaming.
And here's Phil Ivey with the river card check fold flush full house blah blah blah ...
Between the nine online poker tournaments, the incessant clanking of poker chips, and the poker commentary, my living room legitimately sounded like a casino.
Ding. Ding ding. Ding. Clank. Here's Daniel Negreanu with the ... Clank clank clank. Ding. Clank clank. And Phil Ivey has the ... Ding. Clank.
Ding ding ding.
The only solace I have had came tonight, as I put my earplugs in and crawled into bed.
Well, it's 4 am here in Germany, and my husband just woke me, his pregnant wife, from a sound sleep to ask where the Nyquil is kept or if I'd make him another Neocitran.
That didn't last long.
Lord help me. I don't know if I can survive another day of this. I need him back on the ice, just to get a couple of hours of relative peace and quiet.
What are the chances that the team doctor can write a prescription for the man-flu?
Welcome to the last four days of my life.
You thought it was Linden asking for those things? No. That was my almost-32 year old man-child, also known as my husband.
 |
| Source |
The team doctor instructed him to take four or five days off from skating.
By the start of day two, I had become so tired of him asking for random, individual things that I finally asked him to make a list of things he wanted me to pick up at the store.
I went to Edeka and was able to cross everything off the list. Well, all but one thing. At the bottom of the list, he had written two €50 paysafe cards. Ugh. I knew what that meant.
Poker was making a comeback.
Too sick to skate? Definitely. Too sick to go to the grocery store? So he said. Too sick to make himself soup? Uh huh. Too sick for poker? No way. Yep, this is a serious case of the man-flu.
I handed him the paysafe cards and before I had finished putting the groceries away, he had nine tournaments going in the best online casinos on his monitor.
I so did not miss the sounds of online poker.
Ding. Ding ding. Ding.
My husband has a handful of annoying habits. The one that irritates me the most (okay, second most, because the first has to do with his toenails)? If he's playing poker, he's clanking his poker chips. He does these little tricks with them between his fingers. When they hit each other, it's like nails on a chalkboard. Irritating.
Clank. Clank clank clank. Clank.
On his second monitor, he had some sort of World Poker Tour re-run streaming.
And here's Phil Ivey with the river card check fold flush full house blah blah blah ...
Between the nine online poker tournaments, the incessant clanking of poker chips, and the poker commentary, my living room legitimately sounded like a casino.
Ding. Ding ding. Ding. Clank. Here's Daniel Negreanu with the ... Clank clank clank. Ding. Clank clank. And Phil Ivey has the ... Ding. Clank.
Ding ding ding.
The only solace I have had came tonight, as I put my earplugs in and crawled into bed.
Well, it's 4 am here in Germany, and my husband just woke me, his pregnant wife, from a sound sleep to ask where the Nyquil is kept or if I'd make him another Neocitran.
That didn't last long.
Lord help me. I don't know if I can survive another day of this. I need him back on the ice, just to get a couple of hours of relative peace and quiet.
What are the chances that the team doctor can write a prescription for the man-flu?
Copyright 2011 A Day in the Life of a Hockey Wife.
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