You Don't Know Jack (er...Charlie)

You know how you can be with a mom and her baby and she says something like, "oh, that sound means he will be ready for a 4 ounce bottle in about 25 minutes," or "she'll go down around 4 and wake up between 5:30 and 5:40." Well, either they are totally full of shit or I am missing something about this parenting thing. There's also a third option, Charlotte is a genius with a great sense of humor (I'm obviously going to assume all three are true and run with that).
 I started trying it early on...I AM her mom, after all! But I quickly learned that I made myself look like a know-it-all, dumb-dumb every single time. If I said nothing, it may or may not be what I thought, but if I say it, she flips it. Now, since no one has mentioned my child being exceptionally odd (exceptionally gifted -yes, exceptionally cute - of course) I can assume she is on the spectrum of normal babies, proving that the other moms are full of shit. Although I have seen other moms (I'm looking at you Auntie G) be correct, even with MY child (now I'm glaring at you), so there's proof that I'm missing something...or I just haven't fully caught on. And finally. there is no other explanation of how things that are damn near guaranteed (even while writing this blog) she will not do if I say they are going to happen...my proof of evil genius-ness. See? I ran with it. My muffin top suggests I do another kind of running, but we'll leave that for another discussion.
 So here are the examples (although these are all within the last week, and this phenomenon has been happening since she was just a second line on a stick:
 1. Me to my mom, after giving her the run down on a gnarly, 4-day-in-the-making dookie from the night before: "no it's not an issue, it's normal for breastfed babies to wait a few days to poop - that is just her schedule now" [cue the runny toot noise from the backseat]
2. Me to my dad, when he suggested maybe the lights in the office wake her up when I negligently allow her to fall asleep and nap on her play mat next to my desk, "no, she's a cat napper, that's just how she naps - in short little bits- plus if I pick her up to put her to bed, she wakes up" [within the hour I take her from the swing to her pack and play, and she proceeds to nap for 2 hours]
3. Me to the stranger in the elevator, when asked if she sleeps well (and why do people ask this? Mean old sadist want to hear my woes?) "She sleeps through the night." [except for the past week, basically since I said that, but considering we're dealing with the end of daylight savings...it doesn't matter, evil genius I tell you!]
4. Me to my dad (again...maybe I just need to stop talking to him), "she is guaranteed to laugh at the clappy game," [clappy game, CLAPPY GAME...stare]

Dr. Evil planning to conquer the planet 

So this all goes to prove...I don't know this little girl at all, but it's SO much fun watching her, and one day I will earn the Rockin' Mommy badge, not by teaching her to tie a bow or how to spell her name (E-V-I-L G-E-N-U-I-S), but by calling her next move.

3 Months and the kick off to Holiday Season

I have very few posts in the last three months, and not from lack of excitement in our world. I won't try to write an excuse...if you have a 3 month old, you probably get why anyways. In fact, just last night I got to the super duper floor cleaning of our bedroom (including under the bed) that I have been WANTING to do since I was pregnant. Stuff just has to take a number now...and only one little nugget pulls #1 every time.

This week C had her first big holiday at 15 weeks. I dig Halloween for a few reasons...first- it kicks off the holidays and all the decorating that ensues. Second, coming up with a good costume is fun - more fun when Auntie G and her husband, Red Fox, have one of their kick-ass parties (ahem...)- last year's resulting in C herself!
Charlotte was a spider - I made the costume a la Martha Stewart, using men's dress socks, some pins and hand stitching, and a bag of fiber fill...the costume came out awkward and big, but she wore it a total of 30 minutes all day anyways. (Side note: why is it impossible to find black clothing for babies?) I was "Charlotte's Web" (get it?!), and if I had thought it out...Jake would have been Wilbur. But I didn't - shoot me.
C started trying to roll to her tummy - a place of disdain up until now - in the morning, and by 5pm had achieved rolling. I was beaming, almost unnaturally with pride...that is until bed time, when she rolled over to her tummy almost immediately. Now, I have even dispensed the advice - "once they can roll over, they are fine to sleep on their tummy" but when you see it, a big, flashing, neon "SIDS" sign appears in your mind. I was afraid to lay her back down (did I mention I swooped her up fast enough to scare the bejesus out of her?) and needed a "let the kid sleep!!" text from Auntie G to loosen my grip. I checked her about 5 times that night and she never rolled over again. I've come to the conclusion that it's going to be rough being a GENIUS's mother...ah, well, that's the price you pay, you know?

Now we are just starting to prepare for J's big 3-0 and the holiday season. I've already had to put a moratorium on grandmas buying anymore Xmas outfits...'Tis the Season!

The End- A Summary (a LONG Summary)

So by now the pregnancy is over and done with...and I am left with a beautiful little girl. The nugget now has a face I can stare at...little gums that I love the shape of...and the bodily functions of a 300 lb trucker on a chili diet. But I'll get to her....
First, the end of my pregnancy...I dropped the blogging, and for the most part any other contact with the outside world. My pregnancy stopped "funny" sucking and starting "real life" sucking. Besides the hot flashes, swelling, breathlessness, and constant nausea, I developed something that the doctors actually consider a problem during pregnancy - gestational hypertension. I was sent to Labor and Delivery numerous times because of High Blood Pressure. Evrytime I went in, they told me that I might be having the baby that day - starting at 32 weeks. However, by the time I was resigned to that fact (anything to get out of the little observation room and into a room with a TV!) they would send me home to continue on my new-found, high-risk pregnancy journey.
I had a daily phone appointment with a nurse who needed to know my blood pressure from the night before and that morning, the reading of a urine protein test, all my symptoms and how long it took for the baby to kick me 10 times. Based on this information, they would say "Have a nice day," or "you're going to need to be on bedrest today," or "head over to Labor and Delivery." I wasn't supposed to exercise or do much of anything...so I did just that. The days that I did go to work I felt horrible and exhausted. The days that I didn't were boring. By 36 weeks I just stopped working instead of being the unpredictable employee...also known as the crying employee, the one who pukes all the time, or the employee that only wears 3 different things because nothing else "touches her."
I also had a weekly non-stress test. This is where you go in and sit in a lounge chair while they monitor the baby's heart rate changes during movement. They also hook you up to a monitor that shows you how many contractions you're NOT having, therefore reminding you that you WILL be back next week. These are where I came to learn the brand of nurses that have horrible beside manner...sharing stories of not finding fetal heart beats while searching for one in you, and making general comments of surprise like you are presenting something that is foreign to modern medicine.
At my 35 week appointment I was also told what I knew for a while...the baby was transverse, i.e. laying as if in a hammock. They don't even TRY to turn a baby in this position...you are instantly scheduled for a c-section. I asked for 7-11 (for obvious slurpee association reasons) but got the 15th of July. However, I wasn't about to give up - I ordered a baby turning meditation, I had Chi Qong done, I did inversion positions that you wouldn't believe, and I hung out in the pool. At 36 weeks she had turned...breech. At 37 weeks I went in and my amniotic fluid was low. My doctor said she was sending me to labor and delivery and if they confirmed it, I was having the baby - so stop drinking water (and don't let the doctor see it). Then she said I should even spit out my gum...so I did. Into my mom's hand - make doctor laugh -Check. No good though...fluid was fine and again I went home- thirsty and starving. I jumped in the pool again and at 38 weeks she was head down. C-section canceled, induction scheduled. I hated the idea of an induction, but my blood pressure dictated the schedule.
OH, and there was a heat wave during this time. I gave in and moved into my mom's house for about 10 days. I sat in the air conditioning by day and got mommied by evening...and at night I didn't have to worry about waking anyone next to me if my images of stabbing his snoring face were so strong as to make noise in my head...sleep was almost non-existent.
The last week I was in my own house once again...starting to contract here and there, getting very excited. My induction was scheduled for Thursday morning (7-14). I spent the time leading up making sure I was well packed, the house was cleaned (hoping this would start labor), and everything was perfect. I plucked and shaved so that Thursday at 8:30 a.m. I would be Heidi Klum giving birth. And at 8:30 am on Thursday I was all ready...and called in. Sorry, full moon, no room at the (Kaiser) Inn, call again. Every two hours. So basically I would call Kaiser...then rent a movie off cable...then call...I would cry to the nurse on the phone, I would curse the other people who dared to go into labor, I would watch the clock. Thursday night I was thinking I might make it in without having to be invited, but FAIL. It took until 7pm on Friday night for them to tell me to come on in. It was like winning an Academy Award (I'm guessing here), and that was the end of the end and the beginning of everything else!

Useful Distinctions

Ok, this seems to be a particularly difficult one for some people (or something other people can identify with TOO much). One of these things is a baby and one is a circus monkey. One has the ability to talk at some point, and one jumps higher and has a tail. But here's where people get confused...one is employed purely for your enjoyment and entertainment, and one is NOT. The other happens to be my sweet little nephew Aidan - but here, he represents all people roughly his size (primordial dwarfs in the entertainment business excluded).
Now, it may be a little early for me to get irked about this, but a)I'm annoyed by everything these days, and b)I can see that it will logically continue to MY small non-primordial-dwarfed person.
As much as we all enjoy cuddling babies, or playing with children, or seeing pictures - none of these are the sole purpose of these little creatures. Sure, we love them, so hopefully people understand looking out for their best interests or simply not making them a spectacle.
Already, Charlotte has taken a strong stance on performing for others. She's not willing to do it...she flat our refuses. She can be doing what I can only imagine is the dance of some highly caffienated tribe, but when anyone, include Mr. P or Auntie G try for a peek - she goes statuesque. And you know what? I respect her for that. She doesn't owe anyone anything.

HAVING or BECOMING a Baby?

So this up-front lady-lump, and strange wiggles in my gut are a pretty tried and true indication that I am HAVING a baby. However, there are also too many signs to ignore, that indicate I am actually BECOMING a baby instead.

First sign, the sleeping. At first, all I did was sleep - it was an insatiable need. I could easily fall asleep while eating or sitting on someone's lap. There was no limit - I slept. Now, a few more months later...I can't seem to get on a sleep schedule. I can take a 15 or 20 minute nap here and there, and at night, I am up with no sign of the sandman.

Second sign, the eating. First I was eating a lot all the time...then I didn't want to eat anything...then I ate, but everything came back up. Now I'm picky about something different every day, but always up for dessert.

Third sign, the tears. You'd think I sprung a leak. I cry when I'm tired, sometimes if I'm too hungry, if something hurts, if the day ends in "Y", and if your look says to me, "you're fat." I can switch from happy to weepy in an instant...in fact, sometimes it's NOT a switch, but a continuation.
And finally, the potty. I have to go all the time. I'm a pee machine. That either makes me a baby or my brother...cause he's a 34 year old pee machine...but I digress. I have to go at inconvenient times...when driving down the road, when shopping, when I've just walked OUT of the bathroom, in the middle of the night when I can't get out of bed. And sometimes, I'll admit...I have an accident. *GASP* Whatever...you chose to read this...even after that barf post.
So, I have decided this is a continuum of the theory that pregnancy gets you ready for having a baby. I am not only up all night, but I'm constantly hanging out with a pee factory who doesn't like what I packed for lunch by noon and cries without any indication of what is wrong, other than the sun has once again risen. Go figure...

Auntie G's Wisdom: From the Mouth of Babes

So I already wrote a long, drawn out, poor me, wha-wha blog today and decided against posting it. It wasn't even funny-pathetic, just plain pathetic. Then I remembered a part of yesterday that I will never forget. I had my first shower yesterday and it was great, but this was before my shower. I got to Auntie G's early so we could drive together (my DD duties have been so sparce in the last 8 months!). I chugged some juice and we layed down to see if Charlotte would dance. Enter Sammy, Auntie G's third successful attempt at an awesome little boy. Sammy is a baby loving cuddle bug. He stopped his football game to remind me I had a baby in my belly when I arrived. He came in to see if he could feel her kick too. She didn't kick him, but he flew back as if she did. I told him he could talk to her and she would hear him. He said hi to her and asked me if she (Charlotte) liked him. I said yes, and he said he loved her. He looked at Auntie G and said he was in that belly. Until she barfed (complete with gagging motion) him out. Ahh so sweet:)

*this is actually Sammy, at age 3, getting ready to barf up cake while I laugh hysterically
6 years ago he was in that belly...and roughly right around the same week of the year as Charlotte will be joining us, Sammy started getting ready to get "barfed out." Auntie G and I sat in that same bed, her belly the big lump that time, contractions coming and going, waiting to meet SAMUEL/AVERY. Now Sammy is in the bed with us...tall, smart, and ful of personality - waiting to meet Charlotte.
Seriously sappy moment.

Cheat Day

I don't have much to write. I'm trying to be more positive and that drains a lot of funny out of this experience. I know I've already exhausted the subjectof swelling (as well as the comments and the hurling) - but this just kept coming to mind, so I had to share it. This scene is a very close portrayal of me simply walking in the door from work lately. Plus, it's just one of my favorite scenes ever (although I would watch Golden Child over Big Trouble in Little China any day, if pressed to pick an Asian crime 80's flick). And this is literally what I see my face and hands do by the end of every day...

29 weeks (one artist's depiction)

I'm 29 weeks pregnant. Same as 20 or 24, just bigger. Although last month, according to Dr. Skinny & Cute, I only gained 3 pounds- I would have to imagine it breaks down to +12 pounds water weight that gives my face, hands and feet distinct and oh-so-sexy Shrek-like features, +2 pounds in body hair, -5 pounds in lost brain matter (and therefore function), -3 pounds in unexplained tears, -5 pounds in continued spewing, and -3 pounds in lack of make-up or many other forms of standard up-keep.
I could bitch and moan some more, although I am enjoying all her movements and getting excited about seeing her, and DYING to buy her stuff.
I could bitch and moan about moving while pregnant, although everyone is doing their best to help and be generous and I am incredibly lucky in a million trillion ways.
I could bitch and moan about loss of sleep or general discomfort, but what the hell did I think I was signing up for? Plus, I recognize that this would be wildly insensitive to those who have REAL trouble with pregnancy.
So, for today's break I just did an artist's (the artist being yours truly) rendition of what I sometimes imagine is inside of me. And if it isn't totally clear by the picture...I do very much love this kid already.

Like a Police Sketch, but Cuter

Like most parents, I'm sure - I am beyond curious what this nugget is going to look like. Not so much (but who am I kidding?) at the beginning, but after it stops looking swollen and red and alien like.
So this is what one website says our baby is going to look like:

I know it's for entertainment purposes only- and very "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Ten Days" (unfortuntely Mr. P is stuck with me!) - but this kid is not 1/2 bad looking!
Just to check my work - and my life decision - I decided to see what my baby would look like if I had been seeded by the leader of the free world:

Check it out!! Mr. P's kid is cuter than Mr. President's kid!
We have baby pics of both of us up in our house. I'm voting for a lot of his gene's (he was the cutest little pouty faced baby)- but not his beard.

A Nice Comment and a Test Run

The other night I was out to dinner with Mr. P - even seeing him in the evening is a rare occassion since he's been remodeling our new house - and enjoying nice enough weather to sit outside. I wasn't really hungry (probably due to eating out for breakfast and lunch that day as well?! - people love to feed the zoo animals I guess!) so I just had a lemonade and some steamed clams- clams I should have greatly enjoyed...but more on that later.
A woman was walking through the restaurant patio to her car and turned to me - feet up on a chair, rubbing my protruding gut and eyeballing Mr. P's beer - and she said, "You look great!" O-M-G! Now family and friends have thrown in the occassional, eyes-diverted, compliment on how I look - but I know they have to. However, for the most part, strangers even more than family, have made comments that included the words "big" or "twins" or "wow." None of which have I appreciated, and almost all of which have caused me to crumple into a ball of hormonal tears at some point when I was alone. This woman made my day. She may have been lying...or had cataracts. I don't care. My first instinct was to...well, cry. I also wanted to run up and hug her, go on and on about how much it meant to me, offer to make her this child's guardian angel...but I just smiled and said "Thanks." That may have been the only time I gave off a hint of glowing...because I was so flattered.
BUT...3 hours later those clams, known now as "possibly the last clams I'll ever eat in my life" began to wreak havoc on my digestive system - not just my stomach - but the whole business. I had completely forgotten how different food poisoning was from morning sickness - but it's different. After a couple of bouts...my mom and I decided I would go in to get all that "business" under control before I got too dehydrated. This would become my Test Run.
First my mom drove me and Jake followed in his car. My mom has a pretty flawless driving record, so she's not a bad driver persay...but going 35 when the speed limit was 50 did not maintain my confidence that I would arrive unsoiled. Mental note - when the real thing comes, Mom can't drive.
Then while I stood in line at the ER, a nurse took one look at me and sent me up to labor and delivery. Apparently, regardless of your issue, if you are a gestator, you go to labor and delivery. I headed off with congrats that I didn't care to correct from the other E.R. residents.
In labor and delivery I got a chance to practice my relaxation (although it probably helped that I wasn't in labor) while they hooked me up to monitors - for the baby, not me. I continued to try to relax while I got NOTHING fun like Phenagrin (a wonderful anti-nausea drug that sends me right to dream land). Then after I passed the drinking water and eating crackers test, I continued to practice relaxing while babies were apparently shooting out at a rate that wouldn't allow any doctors to discharge me.
Mr. P got a test run too. He was supportive...but drank 1/2 my water and cracked jokes when I was trying to sleep. I won't say he failed, but perhaps he would benefit from a few more practice runs.

The Positive Post

I was talking to a friend the other day about HER pregnant friend who doesn't complain about anything - she often forgets her friend is pregnant. These are my favorite kind of pregnant people and I have failed miserably at being one of them. Well, along with "positively" giving up on focusing on, what I have been deeming, my failures - I am also trying to focus on the overall positive and even the positive aspects of this pregnancy (I know - I forgot to tell anyone that there were some of those. Sorry again to all the babies that WON'T be born to some of my closer friends because of it!!)

General Positives:

- I'm married to a pretty cool dude...and by pretty cool I mean, if I hadn't found some toothpaste on the sink, I would have mistaken him for flawless. He's relaxed, loves his girls and is efficiently re-doing our entire new house while working overtime. THEN he comes home and we laugh - at pretty much everything. He said a lot of hilariously WRONG things when I was first pregnant - but that is all forgiven (but in true wifely style, NEVER forgotten!)

- The other trillion people who are also supportive and loving. Sometimes I feel like I have too many people to give them all due attention, yet they are there when I need them - but I'm grateful for all of them.

- My stuff...it's way below people in every way, shape and form - and for them I'd give it up in a second- but I can't see people who go without and not be grateful for the fact that I have a house, a car, the ability to buy clothes and food and even supplies for stupid little crafts.

- The ability to laugh. Things go right or wrong, rarely according to plan. Life is stressful and gross and beautiful and fun, but you need to be able to laugh at all of it - hopefully with somewhat appropriate timing.

Pregnancy Positives:

- I am actually doing this. Not only have I always wanted to do this, but I've long doubted that I could or would for whatever reasons - at least without flubbing it up royally - but it looks like I found one more thing I'm capable of.

- I have had the luck of staying healthy. Yes, I feel as big as a house and sore, etc. And I don't think it's an accomplishment, per say, anymore than fertility issues is a failure. I just happen to be someone who has thus far been lucky in this department. Blood Pressure - good, Gestational Diabetes- negative, anemia - negative, baby growth and heart beat and developement as far as can be told - all good.

- The people around me: my mom babies me, my husband spoils me, my friends and family are genuinely kind, excited or concerned when I need it. People in my life WANT to celebrate with me, they put up with my venting, and they indulge my neuroses. People are generous to a fault with making sure I'm provided for in every way possible.

- Work has been understanding...of puking, of tears, of appointments and leaving early and growing and moods and a few times refusing tasks because I didn't feel like it.

- That the skin on my hands is amazingly stretchy enough to contain my daily blowfish affect. Ok, that was a little negative, but I had to sneak it in, since mid-puff at Sunday dinner, my jolly Father-in-law laughed and said I had "baby hands" - he's lucky he's cute!

- It all comes down to a baby. Every moment, misesrable or not, comes down to a little girl who I can't wait to meet and who I already love. It wasn't instant...it's so abstract at the beginning, but I am amazed at how much I love her already and a little scared and excited about how much I'll love her when she's here.

Now back to the fun stuff....

Auntie G's Wise Words

Ok, so my super bestie also happens to be super mom. Sometimes I feel like I have some super mom in me, just by association (but that will be sorely disproven quickly I'm sure). Auntie G gives me lots of advice...sometimes totally random or in line with her 3-little-boys-having goings on of the day. One day last week, advice of the day was... KISS THE TEACHER'S ASS, EVEN IF YOU HATE THEM

Buy them gifts, make them food, give them stuff...not compliments, they couldn't give a f___ about compliments! Find out if they have a cat and buy their cat stuff. It will make your life so much easier, and never stop, because you never know if the next kid will get them. Hunt the dollar bin and find that cat toy!

It's true though...people with animals love when you give their animals presents.

Too Cute

Mr P has taken to texting both Charlie and I - it sort of melts my heart:)

I know - we're pretty text mushy, but Mr. P is working hard updating our new house- so he leaves for "real" work before I wake up, goes to the new house after work, and doesn't come back until I'm asleep. On the weekends, he's there about 12 hours a day...so our only chance to be mushy (and pick backsplashes) is by text:)

Cloth Diapering

Ok, this is a touchy subject with some people, but I plan on cloth diapering. And then I hear in the back of my head that phrase that starts with "best laid plans..." and I can't remember the rest because of stupid baby brain, but I know it basically says, "haha, way to plan but the universe wasn't on the same page that day and you lose that fight every time." Regardless, I can send people here to see my "plan" so I don't have to explain it, just in case you plan on listening with a dirty look. I have gotten some Kissaluvs size 0 for newborns. They are adjustable with snaps, including a part to fold down at the belly button. I have read raves about these for newborns because they are fitted and help protect against boobie milk blowouts. I'm a little concerned about some inward facing snaps though- however, other cloth diaperERs tell me there are none..so I may be flubbing something up!

They are not waterproof though and still need a cover. I got a couple of Thirsties Duo Wrap because of their reviews, however any diapers with multiple fits seem to get bad reviews for newborns. I think for just me and the day time, I will probably use just the old fashioned prefolds with a cover. I didn't bother with the smallest size because they apparently shrink up a lot. Also, at home, I am going to "try" using wool covers. They are crazy expensive so I am making a few different kinds. The idea is weird...it allows breathability apparently, but special treatment and you don't clean them every time. The pee is supposed to dry out and the wool disinfects itself?! But who am I to question our foreMOTHERS?

After newborn phase, I'm going to probably go to just the prefolds with the covers - the new twist on the old favorite. For grandparents, traveling, and sitters I got the BestBottom Diapers. Mostly good reviews, etc. And just so I keep my expectations low, I am always willing to go disposable if this proves not to work for the baby.

I'm also not using a diaper service...I am planning on either using Ecos from Costco (which I use on our regular laundry) or equal parts Washing Soda, Oxyclean, and Borax. Most people suggest a cold rinse, hot wash, then a double rinse. They also suggest using special rash cream (like California Baby - which they have on Amazon and at BabiesRus) that won't take away absorbancy OR just using a liner (which looks suspciously like a piece of toilet paper). I'm also going for cloth wipes since shit and piss will be in the washer anyways.

So thus far that's my plan. To some it sounds ultra granola...to others, not so much. Some people will make you feel like you're not "up to" this, if you're not also giving birth to a fruit named child in your living room and then breastfeeding said fruit child for 7 years. I'll take some granola, but not the whole shelf - thank you.

Also, contrary to the belief of some people (who are not Mr. P), this is NOT up for debate. I have read a convincingly large amount of literature supporting this as a good alternative for the planet, for children, for expenses...and some not so flattering literature. However, the road to my decision isn't any more anyone else's business than the decision I make. Your babies, your decisions. My baby, my decisions. Period.

Concurrent Gestators

Here are some women in the news who are gestating at the same time as I am...since they are in the news (and by news I mean Celebrity News), they won't wear 11 year old maternity hand me downs like I do, barf in Safeway bags on the way to work like I do, and they are more than likely to go on talk shows and talk about how beautiful pregnancy is (and forget to mention that is when you DON'T need to drag your ass to your desk job daily or CAN pay to wax everything south of your PROceding hairline or have a trainer AND attend 8 yoga classes a week).
Alicia Silverstone of Clueless fame - she's all vegan-y and yoga-y and ratty clothes that probably cost $8million because they are made of renewable hemp and benefit breastfeeding programs for monkeys in the rain forest.

Alyssa Milano from Who's The Boss (and about 30% of 80's boys wet dreams)- I haven't heard much out of her, and I'll give her a break because it's not her fault she's pretty AND the republicans are going to attack her for being unmarried.

Selma Blair from...stuff. I liked her in Sweetest Thing. She has always been really skinny and will probably stay that way through her pregnancy, and then be even skinner 6 weeks after birth...but her babby-daddy is a designer so I wince thinking of having a boyfriend who eyeballs my horrible fashion choices as I grow further from the look of the models he dresses.

Natalie Portman. I couldn't have been more pissed when I found out she was pregnant if she had become pregnant BY stealing my baby. I just knew she would make pregnancy look like meditating, tea-drinking heaven - in a rockin' bod. She has stayed pretty mute thus far though - for her own good, she should keep that up:)

Pink. I love her. And my hair and outfits turn out better than hers...so it's kind of kick ass from two different angels.

But really...at this point I feel big and uncomfortable, they look varying degrees of big and uncomfortable and I can't really hate on any of them. Unless they give birth to boys who try to date my little girl...

Destroy Disney Princesses Before They Destroy Us

I will start this particular post with some cathartic confessing. I have seen every Disney Princess movie up to Mulan. At least 10 of those I've seen more times than I can remember and to at least 5 of those, I can sing the entire soundtrack. Disney Princesses weren't huge in my childhood - I was more the Strawberry Shortcake/Rainbow Bright/Care Bears era. There was Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, but they never got the marketing push until Arial, Belle, and Mulan joined the ranks (oh, yeah - I know their names). I also wanted Arial's hair, and when my shoulder length, green tinted locks flowed in the swimming pool - I imagined I did. I also happened to spend way too much time at way too young an age worrying what boys thought of me, and did more than one stupid stunt to try to be skinny. I never appreciated what I looked like - and looking back, I could have worked the looks angel hard for a few years there in my teens! Ok, confessions done. I don't want my daughter to have anything to do with Disney Princesses. You "been there, done that" moms are probably snickering at me (is it weird to read the word "snicker" while you snicker?!) - but I really don't. I understand she will have tons of influences that aren't her mother and even if I ban all the movies, there's a good chance she will come to me wanting desperatly to own the 42 piece Disney Princess doll set, complete with DVD at some point. But I want with everything in me to keep her away from that. I haven't found the right book (and yes I've looked) that teaches you how to combat all of society's harmful influences on young girls WHILE teaching her sometimes it's fun to have the freedom of acting "girly." It's hard to find back to back chapters, one addressing the need for young girls not to hand out sex to try to be what others like, the next talking about nothing being wrong with HAVING sexuality. And how to foster intelligence, humor and humanity while being fully aware of the power she has just by having boobs! So I chose to start by attacking the Disney Princesses...with this awesome animation: And you can all laugh in my face, when in a moment of weakness, you find me putting this under our non-denominational Christmas tree:

Snoogle: Product Review (of sorts)

5 stars. 10 stars. A million stars if this thing continues to be a soft, C-shaped angel from heaven for the next 3 months! I slept better than I've slept in months with this new pillow. I ditched ALL the other pillows in my arsenal. I can leave it in one place and turn from one side to the other, or rock back and forth to different positions on the same hip without squishing my tummy and the future world leader it contains, or ending up in the dreaded "on your back" position that "they" now reassure you kills your current AND future offspring instantly. I would however like to critique the advertising...specifically the ridiculous images on the packaging (shown above for your convenience). The package also includes a similar one of a woman nearly the same, but in silky, 1960's style, I Love Lucy pajamas. I'm a little shocked their hair isn't up in rollers tucked neatly in an Aunt Jemima scarf. I will say, she's showing how it's used exactly right (except you're not otherwise suspended in thin air). However, and we'll start at the top, what's with her hair? Oh sure, I get it. My hair always looks amazing too...well brushed in a smooth, down-do, with a slight curl under. I plan to have it that way while I lay gazing at my gender neutral baby as well. What perma-ponytail? What roots? What wild, "I-just-finally-made-it-to-sleep-and-now-I-need-to-pee" hair-do? And the outfit...so many things wrong. First of all, not sure it's really worth having a full maternity sleep wardrobe. If you're anything like me, most of your sleep clothes are stretchy enough to fit fine through most of pregnancy. If not, or if you run about the same temperature as the sun, like I do, it is likely you throw on the loosest XL t-shirt from a nearby man's dresser and snag a pair of boxers while you're at it. If you do happen to have some Luara Ashley looking sleep duds for gestation, I would certainly hope they wouldn't be one piece. In fact, it would be a cruel thing for them to even offer those as an option for the more dim-witted. Other than sleep, the thing you spend the most time doing (only because you can eat so damn fast) is peeing. And the socks...they too trap body heat and are hence, one of the many bains of my existance. Finally, make-up, really? I've slathered up my face for a couple functions, but feel like I look like Bozo the clown. Not only do I not have it in me to attempt a made-up look on a daily basis, but I kind of feel like at the point where you are soccer ball round, it looks sort of silly. Not because you shoudn't take care of yourself, but because there is a natural look (i.e. no sucking it in) thing going on that should be kept consistant. Anyways, long, LONG story short - great product, ridiculous package pictures that stir up all sorts of critiques from THIS slightly angry mommy-to-be.

I'm Pulling the Card!

Yup, it's time and I'm unabashedly pulling the pregnancy card. (this implies that I haven't been doing that all along, which I have, and if you have something to say about THAT, may I suggest you wear armor or stand far, far away).
So a big F@*& you to the lady sitting on her ass in the lobby, playing on her phone as I tried to open the door with my hands full (so what if it was full of the giant lunch I ordered - there were veggies!) and proceeded to drop half my lunch and then need to put the other half down to gather the whole thing again, and then stand and attempt to open the door again. The doors are glass and you were two feet away...I know you noticed and it would have been nothing to you to open the door.
Another big, fat boot up the a$$ of the c-bag in the electrical vehicle who nearly hit me this morning because I was pulling over for the fire engine and she wasn't - because apparently the cloud of smug she was driving in made it hard to see or just puts her above the law altogether. And then she gave ME a dirty look. As Auntie G pointed out...it would have been great if her little tonka sized truck had bumped my car and I could have stepped out with "the card." Who runs into a pregnant lady while not stopping for a fire truck?! Your electrical vehicle just turned into a baby killing machine...are you happy? Oh well, no harm, a swift flip of a chubby, swollen bird, no foul.
And to the man who broke into a mini-sprint to get into the sandwich line, when I was the ONLY other one vying for the spot - you won. It's not that I can't run, it's that I just didn't. You look stupid. I look pregnant and I look this way because I did something that I bet happens VERY rarely, if at all, in your sad little life of firsties, no cuts, and no tag backs. Black out forever. I bet you and the guy who watched me walking toward the elevator and pushed "door close" play D&D together into the wee hours of the morning.
And to be honest, it's not really a pregnant thing. I mean, I love the little smiles or niceties I get because of my round belly - it's just a matter of being humane, to anyone. I am still holding doors and the elevator for people - it takes barely any effort and you never know if one act of kindness will really make someone's day.

Name That Game

We've begun a new game. It's played at exactly the point at which I decide I'd like to lie down to sleep or at least listen to my hypnobabies tracks and relax. (Sometimes it's apparently appropriate while I'm working at my desk or have just begun driving somewhere). This is important, as the 1/2 hour BEFORE that time that I usually interrupt Booja's Law and Order addiction to try to make her feel the baby kick is when we play the very, very still game. The hour later when Mr. P gets home and tries to feel the baby move is the time for the "shy" game. But the new game is REALLY fun. Luckily we found an illustration as to how it's played...and all you other 24 week fetuses seem to figure it out even if your eyelids are still fused shut.

How it's played is the mommy relaxes as much as she can - for what purpose, it's unclear - as sleep is obviously something that happens anytime, anywhere. Before this, the mommy has probably made a trip to the bathroom...but that's the cool part of this game, it doesn't matter!! The baby takes their stomper (see picture) and does a dance much like that random chick that used to dance on stage while Arrested Development performed (if this reference doesn't add up, see the progression of the chick in jean shorts here ). Even though the baby in this game is a little more than a pound and suspended in liquid, the force somehow equals that of a 12 elephant stampede. What is the objective of this game you ask? I'm not quite sure, but I'm starting to think it's the fun ride the baby gets when the mommy has to jump up and run to the bathroom...over, and over, and over again. Fun game.

Nice Weather for a Duck

It has been storming incessantly (and for California, that means it rained for something like nine days straight, and most people wanted to build an arc out of shock). My dad said one day that it was "Nice Weather for a Duck." I promise, this will tie in soon.
I personally loved the weather...the cooler it is, the less I puff up and sweat - notice I said LESS since I could sweat in a snow storm at this point, I think. I DOUBLE love the rain, because - although most errands and other activities are fully possible in the rain, it still has become a great excuse (along with growing a HUMAN) to lay in bed and stay in jammies. (I know, still waiting for the point - don't rush me, it takes like 10 minutes just to tie my shoes!)
So Auntie G...she is, by the way, baby's Auntie G, not mine. She is on my "most loved shit list." She has seemingly sailed through 3 pregnancies. Not that they have been particularly easy...she's had odd test results, food aversions, sciatica, sickness, other demanding kids to work with, and even a blood clot. However, she made it look so damn easy!! She wasn't shy about sharing details...TRUST ME - she just takes things in stride. Maybe that's why we get along so well...we are OPPOSITES in that regard. So since before I got pregnant she's been mentioning waiting for me to start the "waddle." Yes, like a duck - starting to see how this comes together?
Apparently with the first of her 3 kids she started to waddle around 10 weeks (or that's how I heard the story). She can't wait for me to start waddling, so I've been very aware of it. Someone at Jazzercise said I was waddling...and no, Auntie G, I wasn't. I was walking uphill...or trying to pick a wedgie or something. In fact, I am rubbing my chubby inner thighs raw and sqeezing a diamond out of coal in my butt cheeks in order to NOT waddle:) So unless you catch me at the 1am (or 3am or 5am) pee in the middle of the night - I'm determined not to waddle!!:)
See? raining - ducks - waddle. It all worked out. Why? Cause I'm the mom and I said so!

Where's My KID?! (And Who is WES?!)

So my pregnancy (just like my wedding planning - if you kept up on THAT fiasco) has been riddled with dreams. Up until now they mostly focus around anyone I've ever met in my entire life in situations that most people couldn't, well....dream up. I'm pregnant in most of them, but it's of little consequence, except the dreams where I realize I've been smoking or drinking.
Three nights ago, that all changed. I had a dream that we went to the baseball games of Auntie G's boys. In the stands sat pretty much everyone who I would ever let take care of my baby...all the grandmas, Auntie G and her mom, my boss and her mom, everyone! As I looked around I realized, I don't know who's watching MY BABY. So I'm already upset (I had also forgotten to wear pants, so I was sitting in a jersey and purple underwear) and now I'm grilling everyone as to where my kid is. It seemed that something was up - they were planning some suprise, so they couldn't/wouldn't tell me. Everyone thought it was hilarious and I was FURIOUS. No one took me seriously. I even reminded my mom how mad she was, years back, when Auntie G wouldn't tell her where I was (to G's credit, it's not easy to tell a mom her adult drunk daughter ditched a child's birthday party with a dude!) Finally I used my "because we're best friends" voice with Auntie G and she told me Wes. Well, shit, I don't know a Wes! I was racking my brain to remember WHO Wes was...but I knew I wanted my kid...then I woke up. At 6:25a on a Saturday. Furious.
Now since we're staying at my mom's during the updates to our new house, I have limited hideouts to which I can steal away and have my own moments of pregnancy psychosis. So it was either try to lay still next to Mr. P who is gone for 17 hours a day working a job, then on our house - or go to where I can hear happy, awake voices, in my mom's room. I go into my mom's room and tell her she pissed me off in my dream. She laughs. I BURST into tears. Why? I don't know. I continue to cry as I tell her how mad I was. She decides that I feel out of control (duh!) and it's showing up in my dream (double duh!). So this was 5 days ago...since then my dreams have consisted living in hiding in a country riddled by holy war, and the doctor calling and saying she can't find a heartbeat. Neither upset me NEARLY as much. What a nut.

No, no...We Don't Kick Daddy (until now)

After a few weeks of me forcing my tired husband to lay awkwardly in bed with his had on my stomach (but not invited to touch ANYTHING ELSE!), Mr. P finally felt a kick. Since I've been digging this sensation - without a doubt - for a couple of weeks, and for what I think is a little longer...I forgot the reaction to the first undeniable movement of your kid. It's amazing and in true Mr. P fashion, he didn't say much - but his face said it all. He lit up and made his way down to have a little chat with baby...one that I couldn't even hear.
Since then, he's much more willing to lay awkwardly...but she is still a little timid when anyone else is hoping for a performance. She's kicking on my left side only, and hiccups are felt down low - so I have a feeling Ms. Charlotte fancies herself a lady of luxury and has fashioned herself a hamock out of mommy's inards.

Wait until you try a margarita and get to feel the sun, little girl!

Best of the Barfs - 10 Stories of Puke Survival

In case the title doesn't clue you in, this is a really gross post - the picture is just meant to ease the "blow" if you will. Barfing is not pretty, even when attached to the process of creating life. So if you don't want to be grossed out, or you're a sympathetic puker, or you just don't care to read about it, then stop HERE. However, if you're interested in what have been some of the funnier puke stories in this nuggest's journey - read on.

The "1st Puke": It was morning - so cliche for pregnancy. It wasn't too exciting but was a shadow of things to come as it happened as I was brushing my teeth and I couldn't decide if I thought it would be better to barf in the sink or brush my teeth over the toilet. The jury is still out on that one....

The "Stuffing" Puke: In the "early days" Mr. P begged me to emerge from the bedroom for 1/2 hour stints to watch a DVR'd show together. Those were our dates, and even those were few and far between. Usually I would grab a pillow and come out tear stained and plop myself on the couch until the first closing credit when I scrambled back into my hole. One day Jake decided to enjoy a dinner of stuffing and a show with his best girl. He asked me to come out, I obliged, smelled the stuffing, and had to RUN to the bathroom to throw up. I came out and asked him for a rain check. Kindly, he obliged. I'm already NOT looking forward to next Thanksgiving.

The "First Car Puke" Puke: I was driving home and got to the U-turn I need to make just to get to my driveway. At the light, as my R.N. cousin was chatting me up, I got a wave of nausea. I grabbed a bag, kept my ear piece in, steared my car around the U-turn and puked all in one very graceful move. From here I became extremely good at puking in the car - while driving, and sometimes even while talking (hands free) on the phone. I consider it training for mommyhood, so don't knock it.

The "Married Comedy Team" Puke: On one of my many evening puke parades, after I had discovered the benefits of bringing the iPhone into the bathroom so I could multi-task. I felt like I was spending all my time in our bathroom, so I texted Mr. P, "I'm moving into the bathroom for good." haha, I'm funny. A pregnant chick with a sense of humor, aren't I great? He responded, "Ok. Want a pillow?" Damn, he beat me on the funny. AND he wasn't puking.

The "Christmas Suprise" Puke: Christmas morning I had a bite to eat, relaxed and we headed out in Mr. P's car (which rides as smooth as a schoolbus) for the 2.something mile ride to my mom's house. While our complex was still in sight by way of rearview mirror, I grabbed one of my car barf bags and started throwing up. By this time Mr. P (a self-professed puke-a-phobe) was getting a little more used to it...but then I realized the bag was folded over and I was puking down the front of myself and all over the car seat. He proposed we turn around but I said just get to my mom's house. This was one of the many times during pregnancy I just wanted my mommy.

The "FIRST fart induced Puke" Puke: The Leadbetters made us a WONDERFUL Polish meal one Sunday evening. I got stuffed and so did Mr. P - off a meal that had a lot of cabbage. By the time we got in the shakey-schoolbus-ride, Mr. P started firing off his "discomfort" that he was holding in...causing me to start puking. The rest of the ride home was like a disgusting symphony - peppered in laughter.

The "SECOND fart induced Puke" Puke: I'm not sure what the stomach irritating food of the day was - but in the small room we are staying in at my mom's house, it was pungent. I started laughing at the stink, then realized I was going to puke...but the laughter didn't stop. In fact, I ran into the bathroom and the laughter and puke took turns. And my mom heard both - and knocked on the door wondering about the insane laughing hyena puking in the hall bathroom. That one is going to embarrass Mr. P.

The "I'm Good, You Go Ahead" Puke: Once I started feeling (relatively) better, I was yearning for some time out, especially girl time. I was lucky enough to get a spot on the busiest social calendar in the Bay Area, Anne. We had a lovely meal, and she SAVED my emotions by sending me to a wonderful pregnancy blog that shows not everyone loves it. After dinner we stepped out and hugged...I said I had to go but before getting in my car, started puking in the street. She sort of stalled...we had said our goodbyes, but circumstances had changed fast. She wanted to help - she's sweet like that. But as I stood in the street hidden by my mere nugget of a car, seemingly only barfing in her eyes...I began to pee my pants. I waved her on....don't worry, I'm good - and even threw out a smile!:) I puked and peed all the way home. Thank you to whoever created leather seats in cars.

The "NOW I'm going home" Puke: I've spent a lot of time at work feeling, as my mom calls it, CRUMMY. And even if I don't at first, something (like possibly the weird mumbling stinky chick in the bathroom?!) will take me there pretty quick. So I was sitting at work feeling yuck...had kicked off my high heeled, buckled shoes, and was doing not much of anything. Suddenly I got a "rush puke" which means I break into a sweat and am going to errupt regardless of the enviornment. I try to breath through it as I try to get my shoes on, but the breathing becomes whimpering and when my dad walks by my desk, it turns into tears. He ends up having to buckle my shoes so I can go puke (bet THAT took him back!). By the time I make it into the bathroom, I am puking, crying and my nose is bleeding (this is close to the EVERY ORIFICE puke). When I was done...I went home.

The "Every Orifice" Puke: I stood in the kitchen with my mom talking about how I had gotten a nasty cold just before the long awaited birth of my nephew, Aidan. Me with my runny nose, started, yet again, to cry. It got harder and harder and my mom watched knowingly as I started nervously glancing from the sink to the puppy training pads on the floor of the bathroom. My mom said, "SINK!" and I turned towards the sink and started exploding from my mouth...all the while tears were flowing and my nose was it's own faucet. Starting on about the 3rd second of violent puking, the surges caused me to toot and then I started peeing my pants. I know...that's incredibly gross.

So those are my 10 best of's....so far. I know I should be totally embarrassed by some of these stories, not to mention placing them on the internet for WORLD consumption. Peeing your pants isn't sexy, nor is puking or bloody noses (although my husband somehow hasn't lost interest). However, I consider these a badge of honor. THIS is the journey I took with this little nugget, and one day we will laugh about it together. After I've taken it out on her in cruel, cruel ways.

New Views on Child Labor Laws

And that view is...this kid has 12 weeks from date of birth to become gainfully employed. Even better is if this kid becomes gainfully employed in the business of infant care...no really. I'm looking into it.

I know it's probably a little early, but I am looking into infant childcare. I have a tentative plan to bring the baby into work with me until it goes from whine-o to destruct-o. However, like the rest of this process, I have no experience - ZILCH...so plans are little more than day dreams. And everyone has a different take on what is best - so advice is coming out on the same level as excuses and a$$holes right now (you know, everyone's got 'em, and they all stink??)

Like everything else, I did a little searching and GOOD GAWD this is scary. Most of the institutional places charge monthly what I wasn't paying in rent 2 months ago. Seriously, it would cost less to get this kid her own 1 bedroom apartment WITH gym acess and a washer-dryer in the unit, than it would to use any of the big name infant care- complete with infant curicullum- places. And then there are the craigslist-advertising, mom and pop places. These sketch me out a little from the beginning - it's like handing your baby over to a stranger - it actually all is. But seriously, if they can't write a clear sentence do I want them speaking to, much less caring for the well being of, my child?! If they advertise their facility as "homely and safe," do I assume that it is ugly? If I can't assume that, can I actually really assume it's safe either?

So these are my options:

-Leave the baby where it is for another 4 years or so...if it comes out potty trained and in the "pre-school" phase, then I will save TONS. Yes, I understand the inexplicable stretch marks this will create.

-Start my own infant care. Despite the CRAZY this would induce, I could have 3 paying infants and make what I make now...but in sweats and no make-up:) However, that would make 4 total infants...and that is beyond crazy.

-Dress my kid up in fur and drop her off at Petco. They have great doggie care room and it would teach Baby Plaza love for animals and get TONS of activity. She would end up Mogoli-ish, which could be kind of cute.

So I have some time to decide...but this is where I'm at with that.

Expensive Keys...with a FREE House!

How about a new house? DONE! We got the keys to our new house last night. How exciting...and terrifying, and stressful, and sleep stealing! I could fill this screen with things Mr. P and I would love to do ASA&*%%$P. All of which take time and money...something we had last week, and suddenly don't have this week. Nor do we expect to have much extra anytime in the near future (read: DECADES).
Also, I just can't help that much...I'm not allowed to inhale most things that aren't pure Bay Area air. I can lift and carry some things, but then the resulting pain causes crying and turrets like anger fits. Even just delegating and managing makes me tired. Somehow I missed that "superwoman" period of pregnancy. People keep telling me to enjoy letting other people do it, but I WANT to do it. Never freakin' happy!

So I'm very excited...and ready to make a baby room:)

Congrats! It's a....

BABY!!! And I've known this for a while...so you'd think that was the biggie. But no...something about the waiting, or the reality of it all...or the huge increase in the little-known pregnancy hormone - wackadoodlegen, but finding out the gender of my baby was HUGE. I had no idea...I had a couple of guesses based on some very limited and convoluted signs from the universe, but really - I didn't know. And I didn't know if I knew what I wanted. And after we found out...I wanted just that kid. However, despite my "American Idol" shriek reaction, I spent the rest of the weekend in silent shock at the pure reality of it all. Cause really- months of puking and pissing myself, 4 pictures of babies generated from inside me, a few bright pink lines, and growing at an alarming rate didn't QUITE do it for me...

So how we did this was this...we had our ultrasound done...at which time the tech could tell so fast, that we were sure it was a boy (a WELL endowed boy!). Tech wrote it on a pieces of paper (with picture proof)and we RAN to the mailbox to send it to Cerina the miracle worker...er, baker and owner of Uh Oh Cupcakes. She made the most adorable cup cake pops and we got to bite into them and get a tasty treat while finding out our entire future!!! Big Thanks to our family for being there, in person or in spirit, our friends for awaiting the big news with their guesses, and to Cerina for the "icing on the cake."

Ow, Charlie! That Really HURTS!!

If you haven't seen the video that this title reference, please watch it here. It has nothing to do with this post, but cracks me up:) So sometimes I slip and call this nugget Charlie...this can be explained here. When I say it in an English accent, or when I associate nugget with pain - it reminds me of this video and I can again laugh a little.

Now on to the low down. Charlie or not, this pregnancy stuff can really hurt! I'm not talking kicking - I'm not there yet. I'm talking random, seemingly out of nowhere pains. I don't remember hearing about those BP. But now everyone seems unphased, like duh! That's gonna happen.

Yesterday, I was walking around downtown running errands, and got such a strong stabbing pain that I doubled over. It stayed while I was walking back to the office and it only took me a block and a cut through the park to be in hysterical tears. Once back in the office, I called the advice nurse just as the pain stopped completely. She explained it wasn't concerning enough for an appointment (but a sore throat always gets me a SAME-DAY appointment?!!!) and she continued to explain all the pains I would be experiencing in addition to this one. Round ligament pains, Braxton Hicks contractions, kicking, adjusting, growing, etc. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but they don't tell you a whole lot about this in "Family Life" in Fifth Grade. I don't remember my friends who told me about nausea or swollen ankles mentioning a number of general OUCHES that just come and go. So this is my Public Service Announcement:

Pregnancy can randomly hurt. Sort of bad in fact.

Gender: Betting on your Kid AND What's in a Name

We all know having a baby is a big gamble...and we signed up for it. So why not run with that idea...DH and I decided to place a friendly wager on the gender of this baby. A girl gets mommy a (much desired) spa day, A boy gets daddy a round at Pebble Beach. The gender issue is looming large this week...T minus 4 days...

And with the gender issue, the name issue always follows. Some people don't share...I can't even hold in a fart, much less information about my future child. We bounced around quite a few...and this has probably been the hardest decision of our relationship (even though I ultimately decided the person owning the vagina that ends up most wrecked by the end of this escapade gets final say).

So...and don't hold me to this...but here is where we're at with names. Boy is Zachariasz (Zach, Zachy, Z-DAWG), girl is Charlotte (Charlie, Chucky, C-$). I am in LOVE with the name Charlotte...that was the name of my cat when I was six. It's not too odd, or too old fashioned, or too common, or too trendy. It's just right. How I imagine my little girl with be:) Or my little boy really...but I'm still wearing pink on Saturday!!

The BIG Ultrasound

Today is our appointment for what is considered "the BIG ultrasound." Considering the first comfirmed a lifeform in my gut, and the second reassured us that there was a 1 in 8 gazillion chance of this baby having life changing chromosomal issues...well, they all seem pretty big. But this one takes some final measurements, counts fingers and toes, and... reveal a GENDER!!!

Now, many people, including Auntie G, can go right up to delivery day without know. I thought it was torture when Auntie G did it. Now, just waiting half way for me could be compared to water boarding - actually, water boarding doesn't look all that bad compared to the waiting.

Gender aside - I really just want to see that little heartbeat. It is better than Christmas - just to see that I'm keeping this person safe and healthy inside of me...because honestly, "they" make it very hard to believe that I am capable of that. I wake up on my stomach or on my back and instantly warning of cutting off blood supplies jump to mind...how long have I been depriving a child of BLOOD?!!! Was that a sprout I ate?! Did I remember to take my vitamin? My arms aren't tired, so I must have not lifted that 12 pound prenatal into my face last night - crap, did I just stunt some very important growth?!! So yes, pre-ultrasound I am able to conjure up some purely un-bloggable thoughts.

Gender NOT aside - I find it very unnerving to have a person who has been with me all the time...showers, shopping, watching tv, driving to work...yet, not be aware WHAT they are. I mean, it's a baby. This I know. I will not know if it's destined to be a senator, or waiter, or criminal. I will not even know if it WANTS to be a boy or girl...just what the plumbing says. I have a feeling it's a girl...Katy Perry confirmed it. Before I felt that, I wanted a boy, really bad. Needless to say, I will be excited either way. I just want to know. And I will...in 8 days.

Stay tuned for the gender reveal....

The Proof is in the Pudding

...and by pudding I mean one of the sweetest things I've ever seen in my life.

This is my nephew, Aidan. It's been a few years since someone I loved had a baby. (You will soon be introduced to soon-to-be Auntie G who has Boys A, B, and C - 3 other doses of sweet, quirky, wonderful pudding!) We have been waiting for this kid since just a few weeks after a very drunk, fun Memorial Day BBQ at my brother's house. Trying to imagine who he would look like, make bets on who he would act like, and generally being suspended in disbelief about his imminent arrival.
Now he's here. He doesn't look distinctly like anyone...which seems to fit his personality so far. He's very much his own little man already. He doesn't cry or fuss for no reason...just to get some eats and to ask politely to stop being stuck with needles. He doesn't care much what you're doing, if he wants to sleep, he does - and he wants to a lot. Otherwise, he seems content just looking at what's going on around him. He seems to be thinking something - and we can't wait to find out what that is.
He will probably look and act significantly different next week, not to mention next year. But what is already clear is that this is what makes it all worth it. I know parenthood will trump this silly pregnancy stuff in challenge someday - but for now, pregnancy is my challenge. Aidan is a great reminder that someday - this challenge will reward me more than I can imagine. Thanks for the proof Aidan. Auntie Katie loves you:)

The First Half. A Summary.

Let me start this by saying, I have had the intention of keeping a pregnancy blog all along - partially because such an awesome yet disgusting experience creates material that writes itself (even if the ink is 90% puke) and partially because I am obviously in the minority by thinking all the people I've ever met at keggers or work meetings or went to the fourth grade with for a week, now known as my "friends" on a general social network site might not be interested in the ins and outs (literally) of my pregnancy. Actually, I know for a fact that most people I give details to, don't care at all. Sometimes I just need to say outloud these outrageous things that are happening, to check to see if they are real. The fact that this is being started 4 days before I hit 20 weeks (the 1/2 way mark to the layMEN), is a testament to the fact that I really am, in fact, knocked up.





So...I may go back and tell some stories...and my DH (from here on out known as Donor/Husband, not Dear Husband) will tell you I may tell some of them twice...or constantly. Whatever. But for now, I'll start with a semi-brief summary.





Tinkle on a stick. Two grown adults spend WAY too long trying to determine if the hint of blue smudge we both see exists in the real world. Dribble on at least 4 or 5 more tests to confirm that we are "those" stupid people the pregnancy test commercials talk about - but we don't believe exist. I personally keep my possible secret close to my heart for all of an hour before flood gates open up. I think I feel a little tummy ache and am either tired, or just really relaxed - pregnancy is easy. I should make sure to dress cute and always put on make-up, no reason to let myself go. It must not be real - and there is spotting to prove it. Darn, no "honeymoon activity" for a couple weeks. All of a sudden I am rushing something invisible to the naked eye residing inside my body to the doctor because I am worried about it?! Not even a thought about myself - that's NOT normal. I find out all is ok, and my hormones are increasing at a slighter faster than normal rate - weird, I can't tell at all. My first indication of any change... out of no where I can smell, not only the dog poop - but the grass it rests on - from the couch of our upstairs apartment. Wow, that's cool. Wait, why does my husband's deodorant smell like rotting flesh? And so does the garbage can - no, it's the FRIDGE! And how did whatever is in the fridge and DH's deodorant get into the water coming out of the faucet? and the elevator at work? Oh, crap I'm gonna barf. I'll just brush my teeth -again. Maybe a shower - again. Maybe a popsicle, rice, bread, oatmeal, eggs, soup. Nope, nope, nope, nope. Everything makes a return appearance. And I have SIX weeks left of this right? That's awful. Cancel everything. Cry about it. Attempts at Thanksgiving and Christmasand any form of sex result in more crying and washing puke out of various things. Those wrist bands are a crock. All I want is ice water, all the time. I get tired and cry, making me puke. I stash plastic bags everywhere...I cry when I have to try eating. Working actually hurts, but I have to be superwoman. Oh shit, I suck at being superwoman - FAIL. PUKE. Puke, Puke, piss-piss, Puke, bloody nose, pee, puke....isn't this supposed to be over? Oh NOT at 12 weeks like you told me before? Not at 14 or 16 either? Or 18? No answers huh? At least the food I'm gonna see again is starting to taste good - as others start to notice. Nope - not twins. Not my last trimester. Really? I find it STUNNING that you didn't show this much for 7 months and never once threw up. Tell me more...PLEASE. I don't feel violent at ALL - it's just a look I get. It goes well with my new beard and overall layer of body hair. Why do my pubes now think they belong around my bellybutton?! Where's my car? Where's my keys TO my car? Why did I walk out here again? I'm failing at all of this - oh, I don't have to enjoy pregnancy? Thank goodness, cause I don't.







And, that brings you pretty much to now in my pregnancy. In life - I am discovering that I married the right man and I'm lucky to go through this ride (and when I say ride, imagine that trippy boat ride in Charlie and Chocolate Factory - the original one) with him. So far we've gotten into contract to buy one home, fallen through on that, moved in with my mom temporarily, gotten into contract on another home, and....here we are.