Family Time & Time Served

Oh hello. How do you do? I'm back. We're back. It's great to be back. You might be wondering, "Where the hell have they been?"  Maybe you saw the last post and thought, "Oh well - they are settling into their new routine!"

I'd say a little bit of yes, but mostly a healthy heaping of no, not quite.

Side note & disclaimer: This is one of those moments I wish I hadn't shared my URL with family. Sorry people. But I'm going to stay true to what I want for this space, and just be out with it. Also, for the record - this is not meant in any other way but how I actually mean it: with all due respect, a little bit of raw venting and a scoop of sarcasm & snarky personality. You know, aka, my charm. Layman's terms? Don't take it personal. 

Whoever said that having a new baby was tough work, didn't have 3 weeks of family visits back to back. Truth: that was the real adjustment; not the tiny human.

We love that everyone wanted to come. We love that everyone got to spend some seriously good quality time with L and JJ. We love that everyone got to visit the STL. We love a lot of the last 3 weeks, but DANG it's exhausting. Of course everyone wanted to help; hold the baby, help with meals, help with clean up on aisle Guarro. It was great for a lot of reasons. It's also a lot to deal with.

First, it's overwhelming even though no one wants it to be - it just IS. Everyone tries to avoid it, but it's life. We have to figure out meals, things to do, making sure everyone has what they need, turns in the bathroom, where to eat, when to eat, what to eat, just day to day. Add to that our own schedule, hang ups and routines? It's overwhelming.  Everyone is a little different, and having a revolving door of visitors means no down time and just a continued ride through the door. For three weeks we had people arriving, then leaving and later that day arriving.  Exhausting.

Since our move, L has barely gotten back into regular schedule only for it to be thrown up on it's head (again).  Every grandparent believes in different sleep patterns (none of which are in line with ours), nutrition needs (none of which are in line with ours), and discipline expectations (none of which are in line with ours). As a result, home girl was MORE than a wee bit wound at the end of each stay.  The thing is, grandparents aren't supposed to be concerned with these things- it's about the fun - it should be.  It's also usually a day or two, not large blocks of time. Problem with that? After 3 weeks... it's not so much fun for the parents.  L started to take on some habits that might be common for other kids, but not OUR kid.  We're lucky; she's a well behaved kid, makes good decisions and is pretty amazing overall.  Is she perfect? Absolutely not, but regularly misbehaving and talking back? Doesn't happen. After a month of different scheduling? Home girl was acting out, screaming "NO" in our face, stomping around, huffing and puffing, tantruming about dinner or about anything and crying for no reason.  She is a creature of habit and needs structure; without it she's a hott mess.

Second, we (barely) have space for people, but unlike previous homes we do actually have a spare bed and space. I don't know how comfortable it was, but like I said, it is what it is. Where we don't have space? Vehicles. C's car barely has enough room for the immediate family, with the new addition (and car seats). Enter my (poor) car. I have a completely unreasonable car as a mom, and now a mom of two.  (Side note: Shit. I'm a mother of two. When the hell did that happen?) It's what I have and we are going to get a bigger car at some point this year.  It's just been slightly busy lately so you can imagine it hasn't been a priority. With that, we can't go anywhere together (with more than 2 adults and 2 kids), without taking two cars. On the other side of the coin, no one can drive the ball and chain's car, other than me.  If anyone wanted to go anywhere, they had to drive my car. My car, as much as I love it, is older, a convertible and small. It has it's own charm, but it also has things like sensitive steering column and ignition, loud side effects (the convertible top is not electric, so you can hear the wind coming through as you drive), and it turns out it is falling apart.  Every new driver would come home with another report of something going wrong with it.  The glitch? We couldn't do much about it because without the car, the next leg of visitors would be home bound.

Three weeks ago, when I last drove the car, there was ONE tail light out. After three weeks of the revolving door of drivers, as I write this I await hearing from our new mechanic whom I have become close with after days of conversations. I'm learning so much about cars.  I might become certified to fix vehicles during my maternity leave.  After three weeks of not driving, I drove my car the other day to the mechanic to get looked at. Now? My reunion with my car included issues such as, but not limited to: back brakes (totally grinding - metal to metal need replacing), tail light replacement, new headlight, turn signals out and not working, parking break replacement, something about an axle, oil dipstick replaced, and finally a broken glove box.  Doesn't that sound like something Hallmark movies are made of?

Finally, while there isn't much a baby does at this point - what she does effects the rest of the house. Some people think, "never wake a sleeping baby." Those people? Do not include our doctor. We need to make sure she is eating regularly and getting on a regular schedule. This includes waking her up every two hours to make sure she's eating. And oh boy, does she like to eat. Two side effects of these facts? Comments & confusion.

Even our au pair seems to ask pretty regularly, "She's eating, again?"

Yes. YES. She's eating again. Every two hours people. Every.Two.Hours.

Some people, even if they don't mean to, seem to be visibly confused when I'm trying to wake up the baby. Alternately, everyone wants to hold the baby - and doing so, the kid falls asleep which is what we are trying to avoid. Insert me trying to wake up the kid and the cycle continues.

Also (not) fun? Breastfeeding, every two hours, with a house full of people. I've talked about how I'm not a huge fan of public breastfeeding. I don't know what it is, I'm not comfortable. Yes, I believe it's a gift that I can breastfeed. Yes, I believe it's the right of women to do so or not - wherever, however. Yes, I believe it isn't obscene. Yes, I believe it's natural. Yes, I am a total prude and it freaks me out.

With L, I was definitely worse about it. I was covered up more, even in front of the husband. This time around? It's just different. I'm not as freaked out by it, but I certainly am not going to be whipping them out. I still use my cover up - even in the house, with or without family in the house.  That said, having the house full of people and most that are super uncomfortable with it - makes for an even MORE uncomfortable situation. It's like salt on the awkward wound.

At the end of our sentence the month, to say we were ready to spend some time with our new family of four, would be true. To say we raised our fist in the air and may have pumped them with delight saying "Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, Free.At.Last." May also be true.

Does that mean we love our family any less? Absolutely not. Does that mean we didn't appreciate the time, energy and money it means to visit us? Absolutely not. Does that mean we didn't appreciate the help and added love, hugs, and hands we had around the house? Absolutely not.

It means we love our family, as we hope our girls love us.  For the immediate time being and forever more, we're a family of our own with our own roles to figure out. Currently the role of best damn big sister is being played by L, best damn father, helper & cook is being played by the ball and chain, the cow, cranky B is being played by yours truly and the hungriest, farts like a man, adorable cherub of a baby girl is being played by JJ.

Stay tuned though, the roles are always shifting... I hope sooner rather than later!

An Apologetic Plea of Mercy

Dear Ninja Baby,

At first I felt terrible. I haven't taken pictures like I did with your sister.  I haven't been as diligent about detailing all of the stories. I have been doing what people say they do with the second... what I said I would never do.  My 28 year brother, your uncle, still talks about how he doesn't have a baby book. Would this would not be the fate of my beloved second child? NO way. NO HOW!

But you know what? Forget it. I'm sorry but beyond that, I release my guilt.  While I hate to (start) comparing, for the record your sister NEVER beat the crap out of me like you do.  She never bruised me from the inside out. I mean I joked about it, but she never physically roughed me up. Last week you were breech, I felt it happen and then I felt you go right side down. You know what? That was the opposite of awesome. I've got the sug, my mac & cheese counts are low. All I want to do is eat ice cream all day, but instead I have to deal with seltzer water instead. A mother's memory is long, my friend. And despite what my doctor assures me, you have decided to start to make the commute "home." Everyone says this 'pressure' is 'normal.' I beg to differ. My normal is your sister - who stayed as far North as possible, some might say held anchor to my esophagus for dear life so this piercing pain constant ache opening of sesame 'pressure' is not NORMAL.

Listen, you don't have much more time. Just stay put, relax and get comfortable. Don't worry, we won't leave you cooking for 3 months, like I think we did your sister. Next week this will all be over. Just kick back, grab hold of that esophagus and leave your carrier mother be. Stop will all the nonsense. 

Thank you, 

Management

Order Confirmation

The kid is really keen on details, don't know where she gets that from (that's sarcasm). We've been talking about the baby en route before the baby was en route so I feel pretty comfortable that she is "getting it" as best as she can.  We keep talking about it though and as soon as she got the good word, her Godmother, my Aunt, sent a long some books to review - to help the kid understand about this miracle of life we have incubating. One was UBER graphic and since we are committed to telling the whole truth, I haven't really pushed the book as I don't have the strength (yet) to talk about uterus-es and such. We've been sticking to the Dora book since she is a favorite (the kid, not us). That book, however, has lead to fears that she is going to get a two for one big sister status.

At first, she loved it. It had Dora, Boots, the Map - all good. But at the end, when she comes home for her independent trip out with a monkey and a map that sings (seriously?) she comes home to find that she has TWO new babies in her house. Not one.

In all seriousness, she asks, concerned:
"Wait. There is only one baby coming home, right?? ARE YOU SURE?"

Thanks, Dora. You are the best (that's sarcasm).

How do YOU feel worse for?

THE SCENE

The move dates are set.  A Wednesday coming soon to a calendar week near us a team will come to pack up our stuff. It sounds glorious to have someone do all the dirty work for you. In reality, it's incredibly frustrating because there is nothing I (or anyone) can do to help the process along or make headway.  On a Thursday they take the boxes out and leave us with only our beds.  Friday they pick up the beds in the morning and poof. We are done.  There will be some minor clean up on aisle Connecticut.  Good news? This house is uber small and we have learned from previous mistakes.  If I could clean & wrap up things with our last place; this time with a professional moving crew coming with 3 days to get it done?  Dreamy.  You know if I am optimistic about a situation, it really can't be that bad.  The ball & chain will not be around for the bulk of all of this; but he will be there on Friday so we're in business.  In fact, we're planning on a movie lunch date and I will be using my Valentine's gift which included a maternity massage (holla) on Friday.

Since the move is initiated by the ball & chain's company the moving process is not only taken care of, but the moving company has to take care of everything.  If we get in the way or pack anything we loose our insurance on the move.  Basically, if we get in the way, we trip up the process.  We (I) have to stay out of the way.  I can (and will) be making sure they are labeling the boxes right and not just throwing stuff in the boxes haphazardly, but other than that - hands off.  There will be a lot to laugh at, I'm sure - but who do you feel worse for?

THE CONTESTANTS

Image from At a Glance
Graphics store on Etsy

My sanity: Everyone around us - friends, family, even L's friend's parents want to help.  It sounds like an easy request, but there is nothing that needs to or can be done. The only thing that needs help? My sanity and patience. I just want this to be over, be there and get settled.  The countdown is worse than the move, I tell you what. 

Everyday one of us fields a call or email to see what can be done to help.  I know each "How can I help?" comes from a good place and we appreciate being as loved as we are, but for real: nothing can be done but wait.  Why wouldn't we take people up on their offers? I wish we had something for someone to do.  Scratch that, I wish I had something to do!  All we can do is wait.

L: Poor kid. On a Wednesday she will leave for school and have a 'normal' house.  She will go about her day, having fun at what she doesn't really understand will be her last day at school, ever (ok fine, not ever ever, but this school - ever).  She will come home and EVERYTHING will be a box.  The next day she will leave her house, full of boxes, and return to empty rooms with the exception of our beds.  Side note: what in the what are we going to do that night? Bananas.

The kid is going to stay in school until the Friday of move week.  The most important reason is we want her to have consistency (while she can).  Everyone has offered to take her, come and hang out with her, set up play dates, and more.  The crazy train is about to crash into our little girl's life.  We'd like to delay the arrival for as long as possible.  The solution? Finish out a week at school.  Bonus? It will keep her occupied and me free to work with the packing crew.  Which brings me to the final contestant in the 2011 addition of "Who is Doomed?" contest.

The crew: We can't do much to prepare but I can keep the packers (packing team not football team) from throwing random things in boxes and keeping everything well organized up to my OCD ways.  They are going to love me. And through it all? No safety net (for the packing team).  The ball & chain is traveling.  When he is around, he balances my crazy.  Alas the moving crew has to deal with me (and pregnant me) all alone.  My husband keeps saying he feels SO bad (for me) that I have to do it all alone.  Do what? Personally I am concerned about the strangers that are going to do all of the work AND have to deal with me!

Who do YOU feel worse for?

Failing Tests

Back when I was preggers with L, the nurse at my doctor's office had little hope I would pass my glucose test. Awesome.  To review, a glucose test is a routine test you get when you are knocked up.  You drink gawd awful flat, warm, thick syrup that is kind of tastes like cola or orange soda.  You wait 1 hour and then get your blood taken to see how your body broke down the glucose in the drink.  These levels in turn tells medical professionals if you have gestational diabetes. For those that either a) had irregular results with that first test b) Had gestational diabetes your first pregnancies or c) had a big baby (over 9 pounds) you "get" to take the test, for a second time. I didn't fall into any of those first couple of categories, but of course the last one I did - the big baby club.  10 lbs 14.8 ounces.  Almost 2 feet tall - thank you very much. I birthed a toddler, for God's sake. Proud of it.  Bad news (other than birthing a toddler) is being in the big baby club puts me at risk for gestational diabetes and needing to take another dang hour long glucose test.

Side note: It's important to note, I hate needles. Beyond my hate most people have a terrible time getting blood from me.  I apparently have the vein of a child.  When I was in the hospital delivering L, they had to call in the pediatric nurses who were used to and trained to set up IVs in children. Of course, the only small thing I get to have is stupid veins.

Glucose test, part two.  The day I planned to get the second test I had a weird situation happen. I woke up in the morning and couldn't put any weight on my left leg. I was getting out of bed, as I normally do, super early.  Mama can't hold 'it' for a full night's rest.  There I am first thing in the AM trying to get to the bathroom with only one leg.  I assure you, this was not a pretty sight. At one point I didn't know if I would need to crawl there or if an adult accident was in my near future.  The day I woke up without my left leg in full effect I was alone with the kid, had a deadline for a glucose test and needed to get packed and ready for a business trip. If it was safe to go, I would have to get on an airplane.  I needed to be ready to go and be able to walk. The details aren't really important other than: in the end, I am fine and overall it was shitty day.  It was a totally stressful day, to say the least. I woke up the next morning and after a few hours my leg started to be totally normal. I get it, that's totally whack but I expect nothing else. I figured, if I can walk, I can fly to my business meeting (Dad, my doctor said it was fine). Before I could get on with my plane, I had to go drink some flat, warm, thick syrupy soda. 

I took my test and got on the plane.  When I landed a message awaited me: "Your test came back irregular which tells us that you likely have gestational diabetes.  We'll need to get you scheduled for a three hour glucose test."  Most people who get back irregular tests come back for the three hour test and find they are in fact diabetic during the remainder of the pregnancy. Hooray. For the 3 hour test, you get to fast for 13 hours (only water) and stick around the office for 3 hours as they take my blood 4 times. Important to note: I hate needles.

I took the damn test and I failed the damn test. I got stuck with a needle 7 times only to find out this is just the beginning. What's that? Where did I get stuck with a needle 7 times when I said they take blood 4 times? OH that's because a sadistic woman took my blood and had to stick me 3 times to get one good line in at one point. I took the test on a Friday and got a call back on Monday with the 'good' word. In getting confirmation that I need to consult with Diabetes for Life, a great resource in the area (I will be shortly moving away from), I awaited a call to set up an appointment.  It took 4 days to be given an appointment with the office so for 4 days I googled my diet and prognosis. Awesome, health care system, awesome.

I knew I'd have to change my diet.  Based on what I researched, in some cases, there is finger pricking to check blood sugar. There are fun complications like even BIGGER babies (um. I'm hoping that 'bigger' is in terms of being relative to regular babies not 'bigger' than previous babies carried by mother who has the gestational diabetes).  Also in the how is that possible column: additional complications like increased swelling.

Good news / bad news? Good news: I "barely" have gestational diabetes. Seriously, a failed one of the three hour checks by 1 point and another by 2 or 3. If you score over the numbers they need you to be at 2 or more of the 4 level checks, boom. Gestational diabetes. After finding out I had irregular test results that put me within gestational diabetes fun land, I watched what I was eating but didn't make too many changes. What irritates me most about this diagnosis is with this pregnancy I eat 150% better than with L. It wasn't that I planed to eat like crap with her, it was just that crap was all I could eat.  This baby loves what I normally love - salad, vegetables, fruit.  The baby also loves pasta, Chinese food and burritos. What? It's part my kid... why wouldn't (s)he like all that I like? I missed my ice cream that week, but after minimal diet changes my test results were .2 away from a "normal" pregnant person's levels. The specialist I met with said my diabetes is basically 'negligible.'  There will be a slim to none chance of needing insulin since my levels are so close to normal - as long as I stay like that. When the nurse told me I would have to check my sugar levels 4 times a day though? You would have thought she was telling me I was leaving a limb at the office. I cried, laughed, teared through the laughing and cried again. Important to note: I hate needles.

Turns out the checking my levels isn't that bad - the prick doesn't hurt and I've actually been able to eat pretty much normally. Being able to check (when I wake up and 2 hours after each meal) I get to see that I'm fine. Sure with all that's going on, I could stand to not think about how many carbs or sugars I'm about to take in and then remembering to take my blood and record the results 2 hours after eating a meal. But I'm fine, we're fine.  I already have swelling, I already birth big babies and lord knows I don't need to go through the next few months on a carbo load. I'm fine.

Too Many Monkeys Sleeping In The Bed

Ok fine, there is one good thing about parenting alone during the week: nights filled with all the space I can handle. Very rarely, when the ball & chain is away, does the kid make her way to our room. I don't know if he just has better hearing than I do and can hear her calling for us?  Maybe he sleeps lighter so hears her faster? Maybe when it's just me she gives up? I don't know if she knows Mama don't play that. I don't know what it is.  What I do know is when he's away there are only two and a half of us in bed.  Me, the baby & my body pillow. Or as the ball & chain refers to her - "the other wife." Ah the space & freedom we have in that lovely bed of ours... me, belly and my blue pillow of wonderful. It's quite a life.

Last night, I went to sleep "alone" with only the comfort of my pillow.  This morning I woke up like a fat sardine with my other wife, the baby to be, my kid & husband. Sure - the pillow is a pillow and the kid is a small kid and the baby is still technically part of me- but all of us together in the bed? We are NOT into the family bed situation - if for no other reason but we don't have any dang room.

The kid got up, in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. She got all tangled up in her PJ (dang footie zip ups) and came in to get some help.  The husband jumped up like she was on fire and the bed was a bucket of water and threw her in.  All she really wanted was to be zipped up; now she knows Daddy is home and there is a spot calling her name in the middle of it all. Zipped up and now snugged in between us, the next 4 hours are filled with tossing and turning and looking forward to next week when I'm all alone in my bed with my other wife. Sigh.

Your baby is the size of a squash and your body is the size of squash patch = AWESOME

Every week, I look forward to the weird emails that tell me how far along I am and what is happening with the baby. Recently I discovered a similar timeline with similarly weird information provided all the while comparing the baby to a fruit or vegetable.  The better news is they have a tracker for your body! Look what I found out, not only is the baby going to be the size of a spaghetti squash but I'm going to be shrinking. I was so excited I wrote the editors of the publication & website. 

Dear Editor, 

I am so excited to see this update. I'll be 23 weeks in a few days and my body will look like this?!   I just hope the instruction manual is easier to read than a baby bouncy seat's how to manual. 

I had no idea all I had to do was get knocked up to get that body. This is gonna be awesome. 

Love, 

Me

*Please note, I am aware it's not this fine website's fault I look like I'm 42 weeks pregger. This is a joke meant in fun. If you are into real life writing, reviews, information, etc - Babble is the place to be I just disagree that this is "my body" this week. I wish. 

Precious Baby

Each week I await notification from Babycenter.com to tell me a few things:

1. How many weeks pregnant am I?
• Why? Everyone wants to know. I'm convinced, at this point, it's mostly to remark on how they would assume I was further along. Another true quote from the weekend of (not feeling) positive self-esteem: person who shall remain nameless to protect the (seemingly) innocent: "How far along are you?" Me: "18 weeks, 4.5 months, 146 days to go!" (It's my go-to shtick about how I know down to the day how much longer, it usually works.) Person about to make me feel like crap: "Oh, I would have thought you were further along. (as I take that in to understand that I am in fact a beast she round house kicks me with) You look tired."
2.  What kind of random fruit or vegetable will babycenter equate to the tiny human inside me growing?
• If it wasn't strange enough to have a human growing inside me, let's talk about him or her in terms of the size of a kumquat (week 10). 
3. While we are talking about my kumquat, what other random factoid is happening to make me feel (even more) creepy?
• Hooray, week 14, this tiny human the size of a lemon is peeing! Yippee! Rogue urine inside my body!  In getting these emails I learn things I didn't know I didn't want to know until I do. Another example: you get a play by play on how ears are moving across the baby-to-be's head. Fun, at one point my baby's head looks like Sloth via The Goonies when (s)he's in utero.  Super.

Yesterday I got an email. I'm 19 weeks pregnant.  The baby is the size of a (large) heirloom tomato, (s)he's started to sprout hair & looks like Gollum cramped all up in my uterus. Yup, nothing to see here, Precious. Just another day of creepy living.

*Squished baby, bits & pieces of my anatomy, tomato picture & outline of a pickled baby at 19 weeks- courtesy of Babycenter.com. Gollum, courtesy of a google images search for smiling Gollum. (John: Gollum is a part of the Lord of the Rings trilogy.)  Mash up of this whole collage of weird courtesy of my sick brain.

It Ain't Over Until I Sing

The following stories are true, unaltered accounts of excepts from my weekend.

Friday I went to Boston for a weekend long work event.  As with most of my trips, it's usually eventful, and not in a good way. This trip was no different. The plan was this, get to Boston, go to the office and get some things done in the morning and head over to the hotel for 12 pm.  I was joining a meeting at lunch and then continuing on with them.  I knew they were on a tight schedule so when I showed up close to 12:30, I'll be honest I was nervous.  I wanted to make sure I got my lunch on.  I walk in, do rounds of hello - and head to the buffet in the back.

As I go through the line, once I hit the end a friend, Frau, comes up to me and whispers, "I don't mean to be rude, but you are going to go outside with that? Right?" 

Me: "What? You guys are already moving onto the next part?"
Frau: "They didn't eat yet."
Me (as I was dying of mortification) "Stop IT! I have to be honest, it looks a little picked over."
Frau: "Well... now it does."

I leave, dying, and loose my appetite.  Watch out buffet tables, around the world, here comes Preggo.  I laughed, I (almost) cried, I got over it. 

Later on that evening, a cab driver must have heard I was feeling fat and wanted to drive the point home.  This happened. I have 2 witnesses. For real.

Cab driver (here by referred to as the D): "Sit in the front."
Me: "I'm fine." As I get in the back, it was going to be a tight squeeze but there were other people who could have sat in the front, taller people that probably made more sense.
the D: "Sit in the front!"
Me: "Seriously, it's fine." Realizing that we weren't trying to squish as many people as I originally thought we were.  I really didn't have to go up front, but did because he must have said it at least 3 more times.
the D: makes this pose to and towards me (just the arm flexing part - not so much the oiled down, tanning bed bod with the accented yellow tighties):

Me: "Are you saying I'm fat?" (mostly joking, though I KNOW I am no skinny Minnie)

the D: "NO! Husky."

Me: "Same thing."

the D: (not even a minute later, only a slight pause) "Do you exercise?"

Me: "ARE YOU SERIOUS? I'm pregnant." Yup. I threw the pregnancy card. 

the D: "Are you due next week?" 

Me: "Are you f'ing KIDDING ME?" (true quote, I didn't drop a full F bomb)

I think he tried to talk - I told him to stop talking and finally, he listened - or I just blacked out. I'm not small, by any means.  I don't look like I'm due next week. For real.  What is WRONG with people?  

There were a lot of people this weekend that had some one liners for me.  The worse part? Many didn't realize how rude they were being.   By in large (not a pun), it made for good laughs.  I was on point this weekend so that's a plus (for real, no pun intended).   Just another day, in my big girl world.

This awkward moment was brought to you by auto correct...

It can happen to you.  There is a new site out there, http://damnyouautocorrect.com/.  The autocorrect feature on an iPhone can be your best friend just as much as it make you look really weird.  I admit, I find the site somewhat humorous, but there are a ton of people who actually "LOL" when they check it out.

Having been a recent victim of the auto correct function of the iPhone I know it's dangers.  Pretty regularly iPhone corrects my cursing. It hurts my heart, if I'm being honest. Why doesn't my girl know me?  I had hoped at this point, the genius phone I have would learn that despite her wanting me to say "he'll" all the time, I'm really saying hell. People "get" what I'm saying, but the forced apostrophe makes me feel censored. 

What I want say: Get the hell out of here!
What my phone says: Get the he'll out of here!

It annoys me. Every time it happens I am reminded of the love I have for my phone that is not reciprocated.  Take for example an email exchange I was having, by way of my iPhone. 

Also also... This baby is making me like Koran? WtHell. 

jCg
Sent from my iPhone

Care to take a guess what I was really referring to? I'll give you a hint: I was not, referring to a Koran OR the Qur'an - though I don't have anything against it. Go ahead, guess.  You are not going to be able to guess.   I was referring to my recent love affair and obsession with the one, the only... 

OPRAH (said as one would say Her name, as she would say Her name.

I don't know what it is, but I have began DVR'ing Lady O and I love every minute of Her. The baby, God Bless Kev, likes him/her some Oprah. Maybe this is just another symptom of my Benjamin Button baby?  My friend wrote back, after I re-read my email and clarified it was Oprah I like. The way she read it though was that the baby was making me like Oprah, as in acting like Oprah.  I assured her, while many changes were happening to me, my body & mind due to this kid I was not, in fact, becoming the richest most powerful African American woman, in history (thank you Wikipedia).  Bacon loving old lady, yes. Rich philanthropist genius, no.

It could be worse than Oprah, obviously.  Just the other night in going back and forth with a co-worker and friend over twitter - I saw worse.  I looked worse than Oprah straight in the eye and raised it sexual harassment.  In an attempt to say "sorry I MISSED you in the office today" I got this....

Benjamin Button

Perhaps naming this baby to be Kev was a little premature. This kid is making me old.  I didn't see the movie, but maybe I'm carrying Benjamin Button. I'm clearly on the fast track to senior citizenship. I mean as fast as the elderly go - I'm going that fast; maybe with a little boost from a hoverround or lark.

Prove it? Fine, I will.

• I eat my meals on an early bird rotation. A few weeks ago I met one of my besties for dinner at what I admit was elderly O'clock. I believe we rendezvoused before 5pm. And that's late for me.
• Lately, I've been eating dinner around 4 pm. 
• I will also frequently eat lunch at 11 am.  
• I don't like to drive.
• I definitely don't like to drive at night.
• I'd prefer to stay home, wrapped up in a blanket and watch my 'stories' if I could.
• I haven't worn my contacts since I found out I was knocked up. I did take a break from my glasses on a few separate occasions when I outside of Connecticut; dress it up and put my eyes on.
• Sure with this pregnancy, I don't feel like I'm going to die - but I do feel like I'm on death's door or it's short list. Gah... I can't keep typing my eyes hurt and I think "Murder She Wrote" is on.

6 Degrees of (my) Kevin Bacon

Obviously I have some issues with names, but we've finally settled on a name. And while I wouldn't normally announce in such a way, what can you do.  I need to get it out.

photo from Disney - Pixar's Up

We're calling him or her Kev. 
As in Kevin. 
As in Kevin Bacon.
As in this kid is basically made O bacon. 


The movie Up had a Kevin and he ended up to be a she so that totally takes care of the is it a boy or a girl thing.  Kevin is the big ol'blue bird if you haven't seen the flick.


I don't know what it is, but this kid loves him/her some bacon. Bacon for breakfast with some eggs - yes please. BLT sandwich? Don't mind if I do. When I wake up in the morning, this is what I think from the moment I open my eyes. Sure, my story is being told by a golden retriever but it's my story... minus being fed out of a bag.  If it was really that easy - I wouldn't be mad.  A friend sent me this due to all my bacon talk. You would imagine one look at this and I would be off the salty meat deliciousness. But all it did was help me understand my dog better... and want more bacon. 

Heart Beats

The first week of February L had (another) snow day and I had an appointment with my new OB/GYN. I miss what we had in Boston, big time, but I was looking forward to meeting this new doctor. Up until this point I'd been seen by technicians and nurse practitioners. I had a good feeling about our new doctor for a few reasons. First, I'd asked some local moms for some recommendations a few months ago - and she and her practice came up a lot. Second, after a recent first trimester screening blood test and sonogram she called to follow up. The technician said, "No news is good news - you won't get a call unless something needs to be looked into."  Instead, the doctor called to say "Everything looks perfect!" Who doesn't want to get a call like that? Unnecessary but something that doesn't go unnoticed. I had a feeling all was going well - I mean the kid waved at that appointment... I'm thinking that was a sign.

When I think about how things are this time vs. last time - the temperament of these kids are 100% different. How can I tell? Look at this kid? Waving, just chillin. That's right kiddo - you stay calm. L? She was beating her fist from the moment she could. 

Let's bring it back to the point here; we had a follow up appointment and since L had a snow day I thought it would be neat to have her come with us and hear the heart beat. She didn't really get it, but that's ok. As we left her quote was worth the trip.  Apparently she thought when I said she would HEAR the baby I wasn't clear enough; she thought she would MEET the baby. 

"OK Mommy. Where's my baby?"

She looked up at me impatiently as if let down by the trip. Ah home girl. If it only happened that fast.
168 more days. Give or take a few weeks, cause that's the way we roll.

The Name Game

photo credit Babycenter.com

I have some rules about names (for me).

1. Respect (head's up - this is my angriest of rules)

What others do - I respect and (try) not to judge. Listen, if you want to name your child something I can't pronounce a) that isn't hard since I can hardly pronounce my last name and b) it's your baby. Mozel tov to you.  I most certainly do not comment out loud, nor will I here. My rules are things that I think about when we talk about naming babies, for our family not rules that should be mandated from state to state, country to country.  I completely understand how many people, if not most, will think the following thoughts on naming the next kid in this crew is bananas.  That's fine, think we are bananas. Think it silently. What I hope most will also think is that this first rule is the most important one.

I continue to remain shocked at the audacity of people. Sure, I can see in their eyes when they try keep their reaction to some of the names we are thinking about silent. At least they are trying, A for effort.  I'll respect that. Just the other night someone made fun of my favorite name for a girl. I'm not going to lie and I'm also not going to sugar coat or censor this.  I think that's totally fucked up. And it took all I had not to reply with a loud and proud (and clearly hormonally charged) big fuck you. I'm not going to sugar coat it. It's fucked up. Do I make fun of your name, maybe it's one of the names I specifically say I dislike the most?  Do I poke fun of what comes to mind when I hear that name? Who do you think you are?  Why do you ask about names if you aren't going to play nice? Why do you participate in the conversation? Does it make me angry? Guess.

This particular interaction isn't the first time and I know it won't be the last but it is the most fresh. Make no mistake, if you've done it in the past to me or anyone else I would wager they remember.  Perhaps it doesn't make them as angry as it does me, perhaps they don't get angry at all - but they remember.

2. Names should be nicknamable

If you know my name, it might seem nicknameable.  If you don't know it, you won't need to be Nancy Drew to figure it out.  The thing about my name is there are a few options and one of them my mom took off the table from the beginning. Jenny was never an option... ahh the spelling possibilities, how I feel cheated we could have had so much fun Jennie or Jenni - with hearts over the i's it would have been grand.  Alas it was banned. If I were ever able to make a new start, I might try to see if it catches on. I dig it, strangely. There are names we absolutely LOVE that I can't come to terms with.  I can't figure out a way to consider them because it isn't nicknamable OR I can't find a name that would BRING me to these names. This rule is the least favorite of my rules and the one I can't seem to walk away from. It's irritating. Maybe I should flip to Jenny now to be able to get over the whole thing cause we are missing out on some hott names.

Examples, in no particular order:
Sloane
Isla
Norah
Brody
Reid
Rhys
Jake (I know, Jacob.  I can't do it. When I think of Jacob, I think werewolf. It's a tween obsession. I can't go there.)

There are more but I think I'm trying to block out names I can't consider, because I'm bananas.

3. Names should be somewhat uncommon in some way

My name was also one that was the last thing other than unique.  That said, L's name isn't all that randomly heard. It sucks. Her name is one that has always been rattling around in my head, variations of it - but I always knew I wouldn't know until I met my daughter.  Then I did and there she was.  Who would know variations of her name would climb into the top 20 the year she was born? Number 17 and climbing.

You know what is a little more unique? Elle. I'm just saying (popularity ranking: 442 vs. 17). Since I'm the only one that calls her that it doesn't really count. This time around, word on the street is I get carte blanche on this next kid since the last round my naming dreams were dashed. See number 63 - 64 in the 100 list.

When it's all said and done, this seems to be the rule we care the least about.  Our favorite name for a boy is Jackson which is (A) a super popular nation wide (B) a popular name in our family and extended families (C) the nickname I most prefer, Jax, is the name of characters of two TV shows I admittedly watch. ALL of that said, I like the name in spite of my General Hospital habit and I loved it before my obsession began with Sons of Anarchy. Basically it's in all ways, the opposite of somewhat uncommon, yet I compare all boy names to Jax. Let's take a moment of silence for the name that will never be.


(this is the silence)


4. Names should have some kind of connection to family names

L's full name - first, middle and initials ties to family 100%. I feel like pulling a name from a baby book, despite how much we like it, seems like we are cheating the next kid out of something. I might be over thinking it. OK fine, I'm totally over thinking it.  I think I may be over thinking the whole thing. OK fine, I'm totally over thinking it - but see rule number 1.

I'm stressing. I don't know why - but this whole naming thing is a lot of pressure and I feel it. How do you handle picking names for the kids, pets, cars - whatever?  It's a lot of pressure - no matter who or what you are putting a title on.

Home Sickness

This time 4 (ish) years ago things were different. I am happy things are different for so many reasons, but holy hell do I miss some serious pieces of of 4 (ish) years ago.

• Hippies. I need to find me some oasis over here. Urban Oasis in Cambridge, MA - how I miss thee. There is no one here to "give this baby some love" the way you did, hippy oh mine.
• MGH. Sure we had our fair share of terrible memories of that place, but the atmosphere was beautiful.  Despite many nights of feeling unstable, ultimately, some of the worst of my life - I can't help but think of the times it wasn't an inferno of hell. Like the weeks leading up to d day - the appointments, the days leading up to her release. For all it's crazy times you can't hide that the building is beautiful and the neighborhood surrounding it is gorgeous. While the doctor we are going to now is great, is connected to a great hospital with a level 3 NICU (yeah, I made sure) - the place smells like crap, looks like it's a left over from the 70s and the drive in is like driving through a scene of The Wire.
• Friends. We've lived her for a bit, and have some subset of some social interactions and we love it here, for the most part. There is something comforting about Boston though. Even though family was not right around the corner - we had friends. Good friends that we just don't have here. Most of the time it's the little things I miss, but sometimes it sneaks in that we are (almost) all alone here.

After the Storm

The snow storm? I wish.

I'm talking announcement. Apparently my Facebook coming out announcement was confusing. There is a surprise. You be the judge - but if you aren't on Facebook, you are disqualified from the judges table.

It's too bad they don't have a profile update - like when you get married. You can tag your ball & chain - and say you are married. It's (FB) official. How do you update when you get knocked up? Consider my baby daddy, C tagged and this FB official.

Even though everyone didn't get it; I should have taken the day off. The announcement of being with child is like a birthday. SUPER overwhelming with the alerts- I imagine the same thing as once he/she will get here. I wasn't on the Book when L was born and based on responses of the announcement I'm scared.

The usual questions have ensued and reminded me of all the reasons I started this here corner of the world wide web.

• How do you feel? 
• When are you due?
• Will you find out if it's a boy or girl? 
• What are you thinking for names? 

How am I feeling? 

FANTASTIC - that being relative. I feel sluggish and (already) too fat. The usual. BUT relatively speaking, thinking of being pregnant with L - fantastic. It is POLAR opposite. Totally and absolutely the opposite. For every reason. I do not feel like I want to die, I do not go to bed at 7pm, I do not cry every day, I do have control over myself, I don't want to puke 99.9% of the day / night. I LOVE vegetable this time - and vinegar makes me more happy than I would like to admit. Last time the very thought of lettuce and salad dressing would make me throw up. Never mind the fixings of salad. YAH.UK! Now? If it would be socially acceptable to drink dressing from my salad bowl like soup - I would. Though I'm sure it's not cool to drink soup from the bowl either - but you get my drift.  Every single thing different than last time. It's kind of amazing. I know everyone says "every pregnancy is different" but I honestly don't believe "them" ... I guess I should have.

When am I due?It's complicated. Technically, 8.5.2011, however that's up for debate. Due to L's outrageous size (to review: L weighed in at 10 lbs 14.8 oz - just about 11 lbs - was 22.25 inches - almost 2 feet - and a 15 cm head. Yes, at that size I do believe the decimal points are appropriate and well deserved.) and situation of her arrival I could go in a week earlier with a scheduled c section.  That would bring her arrival the last week of July.  Truth be told, I don't know for sure what we'll do - and frankly it's none of your beeswax. I am (clearly) open to discuss a lot of things but I'm not taking votes on the fate of my abdomen, uterus or vagina. I feel that's fair.  I have a feeling I'm going to have to make a t-shirt with this motto.

Will we found out if it's a boy or girl? 

Totally random, but no. Last time we waited, mostly because the ball & chain wanted to wait. I said second time around we'd find out.  Here we are and the more I think about it the more I remember that moment we found out that we had a daughter. Sure, her birthstory took four takes, but just like her - it was worth it. 

"....The next few seconds, at 10:55 pm, are crystal clear but difficult to describe. I did feel an amazing amount of pressure, like a large part of my body literally being lifted from my abdomen. Oh wait that is what happened. It was like a weight was lifted out from my stomach. Then I heard the doctors, "Wow, what a big baby!" They also kept calling to "Dad" to look. C was going to announce the sex of the baby- that was the plan but in all the excitement- he and I had locked eyes and he wasn't looking up. Finally I said, "That's you! What is it?"

C looked up, jumped up and started waving his hands in the air... "It's a girl it's a girl - we have a daughter. A daughter! Oh my god, it's a girl it's a girl!!!!" He was circling the operating room and almost took a nurse or two out. We were crying- and then started hearing L cry. It was pretty much the most beautiful sound I had ever heard."

What are you thinking of for names? 

GAH what a nightmare. I wish I could give L some authority over the name.  It would REALLY help the situation because we are totally stuck on a boy name. If it were up to L, we'd be naming this kid "Buddy" from the Elf movie. True story.  Luckily we have 179(ish) more days to figure it out. Yes. I am counting, NO I don't know for sure if it's a boy. The front runner of our boy names was (non)violently taken from us and since then I can't seem to find a name that we like anywhere near the same. It sucks. It makes me sad every single time someone asks me what we are thinking of naming the baby.

With girls name, we are all set and no I'm not broadcasting here. If you want to talk it out though, I'm not against that (totally different than last time). That said, yes, I will remember when you make a remark about the names we have carefully and thoughtfully considered for our flesh and blood.  We have a few names in mind though we never really know until we meet him/her at least that's what happened last time. We do have some solid thoughts.

The only issue is my own narcosis.  I have rules around names. And these rules just give us less choices. Cause why keep anything simple? Oh but all that for another day.

The countdown is on. Trimester 1 over and out.  Since "they" are onto something what say you? If you've been knocked up more than once - what ELSE is different?  

Baby Talk

When we started thinking about having another baby we started talking to L about it. Her requests were clear. At first a stern and clear, "No, thanks you." At least she said thank you? Manners are important.  We got her to come around to the idea of sharing the spotlight.  She insisted, "Just a baby sister." L tried to negotiate through it. She would say, "how about you have a baby brother and I'll take the baby sister?" Since we were successful the first time around, we just kept on her until she broke until we got through; we can't choose which parts the baby comes with. Now she excited to welcome her baby brother OR baby sister. She has, however, checked a few times how many babies will come. On the way into school the other day she checked in with her Daddy, "There is just one baby, right? Cause I only want just one baby. Right? Just one. Daddy???"

Before we ironed out her special requests, she wanted to know when her baby would be coming. The discussion when a little like this.
L: "Will my baby be here tomorrow?"
Me: "I wish!! No, the baby will come in the summer. We have to wait."
L: "OH, at the beach?"

A few days later I asked her what she wanted to do, it was a lazy day Sunday and I wanted to see what she wanted to do.
L: "Oh, let's go to the beach and get my baby."
Me: "If only it was that easy girl." 

OK, I didn't say that but I wanted to.

Belly Tales

Mama: "The baby's in my belly."
L: "NO. A baby in your belly?"
Mama: "Yup. You were in my belly when you were a baby, too."
Daddy: "It's true."
L: "No. Way. That's silly." (giggling)
Mama: "I'll show you. I have pictures."

Picture proof provided...

(side note - I am NOT looking forward the all that)

















L: (mind explodes)
Daddy: "Whan I was a baby, I was in Grammy's belly."
Mama: "When I was a baby, I was in Nana Lu's belly. And when YOU were a baby - you were in my belly first. See that's you in there!"
L: "Wait. Who is in MY belly?" (grabbing her stomach: slightly horrified, slightly confused, slightly excited)

Real Reality TV

Where last we left our irresponsible adult Superhero, she took a test a passed with flying lines.

Like déjà vu, I was shocked. I remember feeling just as shocked the first time around, this time more so... how LONG had I BEEN preggers? I've heard of that show "I Didn't Know I was Pregnant" and refused to watch due to unbelievability. I mean, I am obsessed with vampires, and I find that scenario to be more believable.

OK so now I sit, stand, whatever- black out in disbelief and await the ball & chain to get back from the gym. Longest hour, ever.

Me: "I have good news and bad news. What do you want first?"
Him: "Good news?"
Me: "I'm pregnant."
Him: "WHAAAAAT??????"
Me: "Yup. Bad news? I've been knocked up... for awhile, I think."
Him: "WHAAAAAT??????"
Me: "Yup. I just talked to a nurse... and loose calculations put me at 10 weeks. 10. Weeks." 
Him: "WHAAAAAT??????"

Following quotes, not in any particular order:
Him: "OH MY GOD. I GAVE YOU THERAFLU LAST NIGHT!" (totally disregarding all the holiday time drinking. Yup, TheraFlu is what we should really be worried about.)
Him: "OH this means we can do the whole beach house with Liza and Co." (We wanted to rent a beach house with friends over the summer, thinking we might have missed the boat.)
Him: "I knew it."

The "I knew it" quote almost threw me in an hysterical tizzy... if you KNEW it why didn't you SHARE this important information with me? How did he know? You don't want to know... but I'm going to tell you anyway... at another time.   In fact, there is more to this fun "discovery" story. I'm going to stop here though and let it all sink in.

This is happening. I am very much knocked up. Not (quite) 10 weeks, but I'm though my first trimester by the time you read this if all goes well and as planned.

You know what I haven't stopped saying? Bananas.

This shit is bananas.*

*Yes, the shit is bananas, crazy. Wild. This is also a pop culture reference. Gwen Stefani sang a song, Hollaback Girl. Best line includes this shit is bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

Fast forward - trip to a laboratory to take a blood test. This time, was different, as I had previously been doing some research of local OB/GYN groups.  I called one of the referrals I received and they were able to take some blood pretty immediately. As I walked in all the non-fun memories of things like blood work came rushing back.

Blood technician: "This will only take a minute."Me: "I forgot how much I hate this."
Blood technician: "I know. I understand, when I'm on your side, I hate it."
Me: "No. You don't understand. I hate this, it's in my blood."


Some things don't change; being knocked up, makes me a cheesy. My jokes become chessy delicious. I waited for the results, officially, but knew what they'd come back with. The next morning I called in and talked to the same woman who nicely helped me the day before, navigating through the tears (surprise not sadness), excitement, "I Didn't Know I was Pregnant" references the whole kit and caboodle.

Lady who had to listen to me blubber: "Yup. I have your test results right here. Yup. You are really pregnant."
Me: "Hahaha. OK, so when can I be seen?
Lady who had to listen to me blubber: "How early can you get in?"
Me: "I think I'm only 10 minutes away."

I was seen later on that afternoon. And we got to see... sticks don't lie.

 

9.5 weeks, not 10. Due 8.5.2011. Bizzaro. World.

Last time I was knocked up I started thinking about going into the t-shirt business.  This time I think it's a matter of health and well being for babies in route everywhere.

At the time of this point, the 26th marks 4 years ago that we found out we'd be parents for the first time. Wowza. Parents to be again, why do I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone?

Wowza

This is going to be a draft and I will publish when it's appropriate to. Why? Let's paint the picture.

Today is 1.5.2011. I am talking to you from the past. Isn't this freaky? 

On Monday the 3rd I started getting sick. I got the chills, I was coughing. I(t) was ugly. I have NEVER felt like this. I left work (though I work from home... so it's more like I walked away from my computer with out looking back at around 5:15pm) sending the following message to my manager. 

Hi. I'm really dying. Tell everyone I said goodbye.I loved working with everyone. It's been great. But my time has come. The grim reaper is here and I can no longer withstand the urge to go w/him. I am seeking peace.

God bless her sense of humor and/or her ability to "get" mine.

That night I did what I could. I took TheraFlu and went to bed early. By 11:30 I was up and the ball & chain (well meaning) got up to get me a Sudafed PM. I'm fairly sure he handed me speed, because all it did was wake me up even more. I headed out to the couch because I felt awful to keep him up as I coughed with every muscle in my body... muscles I didn't even know I had. 

At approximately 3 am, still awake, still miserable I emailed a few of my co-workers I work with and my manager a T.O.D. (time of death) email - calling it for the next day. Anyone who knows me knows this is bananas. I don't call in sick. First of all, I barely take vacation days (not something I am proud of, just a fact). Sick days? No way. I think in the 8 years I have been with this company, I have been sick 2 or 3 times? At most. And usually it's because I'm contagious. I work from home... so the fact I couldn't walk 2 doors down to work, was serious business.  

Somewhere between sending the email and 4 am, I felt a flutter in my stomach.  Not like I was going to throw up, more like an alien invasion sort of situation. 

At 4 am wanting to leave a note for the ball & chain, letting him know what the potential cause of my death might be. You know, so he can point the ME in the right direction.  I watch too many crime shows.  I went on WebMD.  Yes, they have an app for that. I put in my symptoms - you know the usual as far as WebMD goes (why does anyone use this app? Must be why it's free). I could have had a variety of conditions including but not limited to: bronchitis, liver disease, cancer, common cold, pregnancy. You know, the usual. 

The ball&chain and I have talked about the whole second addition fairly regularly. Trying to be (somewhat) responsible, we planned post-wedding of a great friend of ours. That was the plan.  Our first time at the rodeo, we were very much blessed with being on point when it came to reproduction. We aren't good at many things but fertilization and eggs? We got that.  We talked about it, let it ride 10 months later - maybe you heard? It's a girl. 

This time around, we started trying in November - but there were specific signs that pointed to the clear and absolute sign of the first time around being beginners luck. 

First and foremost (and maybe the following should count for reasons 1 - 5) other than being sick this week... I feel great, fine. I do not feel like I'm going to die. See any of the these posts about me being knocked up. It was awful. Specifically the first 12 weeks, I was a shell of the person I am. I don't know if I ever told the story here - but there was one point where the ball & chain literally teared up - voicing his fears that I would "never be the same again."  To name just a few of the joys of incubation: I cried, uncontrollably, every single day - most days 2-3 times a day. I went to sleep early - like still light out early. I could not stomach any kind of vegetable or meat. This left pasta, pasta or chips. Oh or ice cream. That's it - it was literally all I could bare to eat, see or smell. OH or mash potatoes. You get the picture.  And whoa nelly with the mood swing nastiness. Let us not forget 12 hour a day nausea. The only time I wasn't nauseous was when I was sleeping. I was walking misery. I haven't felt miserable, I can eat all things, nothing is making me want to vomit, I am sleeping normal hours, I haven't been (unusually) moody - all signs point to not knocked up. 

The other big "give away" other than disposition was the clear and present visitor this past month.  You know. Aunt Flo. Yes, I did. So what? It didn't work the first time around. What's the big whoop? We'll keep at it and all will work out.

OK SO let's go back to 4 am - post flutter and WebMD doom and gloom of liver disease, cancer, common cold OR pregnancy,etc.

The next morning I went to the store, I needed printer ink, cough drops, and a pregnancy test. Why not? Just get the flutter out of my head. I didn't tell the husband, because he was going to think I was crazy. SO I waited for him to go to the gym and take the test. 

Spoiler alert, if you haven't figured it out yet (you may need to lay off the day time drinking) - the test came back with a BIG (well small, thin) surprise.