Monday, December 15, 2008

Craftiness out of necessity........or maybe just because I'm cheap

I was born into a crafty family. Whether out of need (due to lack of money) or desire, my mother spent a tremendous amount of time sewing and exploring various crafting opportunities. Once a year we would go to a huge craft show and my mother would decide what she would be making for people for Christmas that year. And she'd make it.

She sewed countless outfits, including all of my formal dresses.

Somewhere along the way, she decided I needed to learn how to sew. Initially she tried to teach me, but it became apparent that I'd inherited my father's patience (in that he doesn't have much) more than her skill behind a Singer.

Her next plan of attack was to have me take a sewing class in school. I guess she figured the threat of ending up in the principal's office would keep me from sassing my teacher the way I sassed her when she tried to teach me.

Fast forward 20 years (ack!). While I didn't inherit her sewing prowess (it comes easily to her...not so much for me), I did inherit her petulance for looking at something and being too cheap to buy it when I know I can make it myself.

That is why I am now in the middle of a sewing project of my own.

I have been going to a breast feeding support group ("hi, my name is Lesley and I'm a breast feeder") and noticed that a lot of the mom's had these nifty little nursing cover-ups. Since I am TOTALLY inept when it comes to breast feeding and trying to cover myself with a blanket, I decided I HAD to have one too.

I went to the breast feeding store and they were $35. THIRTY FIVE DOLLARS. For what is essentially a square of fabric with a loop around the neck.

I just couldn't make myself drop the cash (or debit card) and then the thought occurred to me: I could make that.

I Googled for nursing cover-ups (a.k.a. "Hooter Hiders") and in no time found directions for making my own. I am now 3/4 of the way through making one of my very own.

My mother will be so proud.

Monday, December 08, 2008

Sleep Glorious Sleep

I've seen enough of you blog about sleep or potty training to know that I'm about to jinx myself.

So I'll whisper. Maybe Murphy (of the Law) won't hear me if I whisper.

*nr has let me sleep at night the last five out of six nights*

No, he's not sleeping all night (I don't expect him to), but he's sleeping AT night. While it's dark. I'm in my bed. He's in his. I'M HORIZONTAL!!!

Cue angelic chorus.

Friday night was the exception. He had me up until 4am. Otherwise, he's done great.

I would love to take credit. Claim it's the super-snug swaddle I put him in. Swear it's keeping him up in the late afternoons (though I was already doing that).

The truth is that God heard the pleadings of a desperate woman and granted me a respite. If that hasn't worked for you, I am sorry. Perhaps I "do" pitiful more convincingly.

Life is so much easier to cope with when I've had a little sleep (right now it's between 5-6 hours a night).

My mood is so improved that AM told me I was the "best mom" this weekend. He hasn't said that in a while. Actually he said "I'm a really lucky guy because I have a mom that loves me enough to make sure I have good socks". I'll take it.

After my blissful slumber, we managed to get the tree up (and decorated!). We're doing Christmas-lite this year. I simply don't want to deal with all my decorations. The tree is up and the nativities are out, so I'm happy.

MotH and AM went on a toy-purge spree on Saturday. Once a year, usually just before Christmas, MotH decides it's time to go through our toy cabinet (a.k.a. built-in bookshelves in the family room) and ditch anything that hasn't seen the light of day since the previous year's purge.

This year, he wanted to empty the toy cabinet (no toys in my family room now unless AM brings them from his room) and move everything up to AM's room or down to the basement. Then he tackled AM's closet.

Everything is now organized in Rubbermaid containers. And, I'm embarrassed to admit this, we threw away an ASTOUNDING number of Happy Meal toys. I'm talking trash bags full. Frightening.

Breastfeeding is going better, although I'm still in pain. Breastfeeding is JUST like pregnancy. Magical one minute, a burden the next.

All in all, a fabulous weekend (shocking how much my disposition improves with slumber!).

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Emperors New Groove

The "Emperor" would be my new son. Why, you ask, do I call him the "Emperor"?

Simple: he determines when I eat. When I got to the bathroom. When I make dinner. When I wear a shirt.

And most importantly, when I sleep.

He a ruthless ruler.

He tends to wake up at 9pm and stay awake until around 3am. He is happy ONLY if in my arms, usually at the breast. It's making me wonder why I thought I wanted to breastfeed.

My typical night looks like this: I bring him downstairs and sit in the recliner. He'll fall asleep. Deeply asleep (usually with a full belly). I will go upstairs and lay him in his bassinet and the second my body hits my bed, he wakes up screaming and we start over.

Even if I try to sleep in the recliner he makes sure to cry/fuss about every 15 minutes to keep me from getting any substantive sleep.

Thursday night he actually slept in his bed, quietly, between feedings. I was overjoyed. Clearly he was just teasing me, because the next two nights were WORSE than the nights that preceded Thursday. He wouldn't sleep in his bed AT ALL, or in his swing, which had been our fall-back sleep method up to this point.

In fact, last night I went to bed at 8:30 p.m. to get some sleep prior to his next feeding (while MotH was still up). I slept for 90 minutes. That was it for the rest of the night. At 8am, I got MotH out of bed and slept until 10am.

I do not do well with lack of sleep. I get very sick feeling, not to mention grumpy.

I swear, the child knows exactly when I start to fall asleep and then launches "Operation: Bring Mom to Her Knees from Exhaustion" every night.

I don't know what to do. AM was a night owl, but we thought it was due to being in the NICU where there are no days and nights. NR has been home and I've tried to make it clear that day time is day time (open the blinds to let natural light in, make normal daytime sounds, turn on the tv, etc...) and that night time is for sleeping (dark, quiet, etc...), but I'm not having any luck.

We wake him up, try to keep him up, give him a bath, etc... None of it works. He's tightly swaddled (we've tried no swaddling too) and has white noise. I've even tried bringing him to bed with me (and breastfeeding in bed is a joke). Nope. Mom CANNOT be horizontal. Think I'm kidding? The more I try to recline in the chair, the more he fusses. He's his most content when I'm sitting straight up in the chair (holding him), making it impossible for me to sleep.

He even does it during the day. I try the "sleep when the baby is sleeping"-trick and the minute I lay down, he starts to fuss. He can go HOURS and sleep peacefully, but not if I dare try to rest.

Oh, and breastfeeding. How do you cope with the constant demands of a breastfed infant? He goes through periods of time where he wants to be at the breast for hours (sometimes during the evening, sometimes during the night). Unfortunately, I am having significant pain issues (thrush infection and just overall irritation) and being a human pacifier is only making it worse.

How do you cope? How can you get ANYTHING done when the baby will want to eat in another hour or so? He eats for 30-40 minutes and wants to eat again two hours from when he started. That means I have MAYBE 90 minutes between feedings (hence the reason I got 90 minutes of sleep last night........MotH watched him until the next feeding). Do they ever start eating faster? Do they ever go more then two hours from the start of one feeding to the next?

I'm at my wits end. Yes, I know that "this to shall pass", but when? How come EVERY other mom I know has a baby that lets her sleep at night (including my new nephew)? Not sleep all night, just sleep AT night?

As a side note, I'm still dealing with some PPD only I'm not sure if that's more of a problem because I'm not getting any sleep, or if it would be a problem even with sleep. I tend to believe I'd feel better if I could just get a little more sleep. I sit in my recliner (straight up and down, thankyouverymuch) and cry my way through much of the night, but most of my tears are centered around my intense desire for sleep.

Okay, and I'm also a little bitter when I go in our room and see MotH peacefully snoozing the night away. I know that's not a pretty way to feel, but there it is nonetheless.

Anyway, I know y'all come on this board for more light-hearted fare then this post and eventually I hope I feel light-hearted again.

One more side note: I have a feeling that I'll feel about breastfeeding the way I felt about being pregnant. I loved parts of being pregnant just as there are parts of breastfeeding that I love. However, I couldn't wait for it to be finally be over........then when it was, I missed it. I think that's probably the way breastfeeding will work.

Oh, and if anyone has any pearls of wisdom, I would appreciate them. I start working from home in about three weeks and right now, I don't see how that's possible. When AM was first home, my job was mostly busy work. Now, it requires functioning brain cells. Unfortunately, my brain cells demand sleep in order to function. Good times.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Week One: A Tale of Many Emotions

NR is a week old. They grow up so fast. He has all kinds of new skills.

For example, he can scream loud enough to send his big brother running for his bedroom. He sounds a bit like a pterodactyl.


This last week has been an interesting "ride". MotH was home with NR and I all week and it was great, especially once a rather significant case of "baby blues" hit starting Thursday evening (it was nice to have someone home with me when the blues started). They haven't stopped hitting me, although MotH is now back at work.

Makes life oodles of fun.

I'm not sure that I have experienced such a wide range of emotions, during such a short amount of time, at any other point in my life.

Included in my list o' emotions:

Guilt: As in bring-me-to-my-knees-guilt over AM. Yes, we knew he would need to adjust to the sounds of a baby (kid sounds, especially crying/whining, are a sensory "trigger" for him), but actually watching him struggle to cope is making this mama very, very sad.

Content: Is there anything more peaceful then holding a soft, sweet-smelling newborn on your chest? If there is, we should market it and we'll make millions.

Despondency: I have spent the majority of the last four nights crying. As in the "ugly" cry. There's snot involved. I know it's (hopefully) just the baby blues, but it has made the last few days very difficult. It doesn't help that we are now having some breastfeeding struggles, which also make me feel guilty. It's hard to describe the depth of sadness I've felt. The level of anxiety. Yet I know that there are "been there, done that" moms that read this that will know exactly how I feel. Sorry to say, but that doesn't make me feel better.

Guilt: Yes, I've mentioned that. I also feel guilty that I'll have to miss some of AM's school things for the holidays. NR's doctor asked that we skip public places for eight weeks (holy cow!!) since it's cold/flu season and he's a newborn.

Heartbroken: When I asked AM if he wanted his dad or me to go to his Thanksgiving meal at school, he immediately said he wanted his dad. He wants me to stay home with NR. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but it still broke my heart.

Frustration: We've dealt with jaundice (NR was on a bili bed for two days) and had to supplement since my milk took FOREVER to come in and we needed to get his bili levels down. Luckily, he is more interested in breastfeeding then bottle feeding. Unfortunately, his "latch" wasn't all that great and I'm now in a large amount of pain with each feeding.

Fear: I'm scared that my life will never feel "normal" again. That the adjustment will take a long time and that I won't find a balance. I'm afraid that one or both of my kids will end up resenting me.

Vanity: It's amazing how I went from loving my belly, cherishing my belly, lovingly touching my despising the flab and fluff strapped to my midsection. I think it's took 60 seconds for the transformation. It's true: there is a thin line between love and hate. It's called a cervix. I got on the scale. Why did I do that? It made me so depressed I ate brownies, which is sure to help the situation.

Exhaustion: Luckily, that has improved. The first couple of nights NR woke up at 9pm and stayed up until 4am. I nearly came unglued, since AM did that for MONTHS after coming home. Luckily NR has allowed me to sleep between feedings the last couple of nights.

Okay, I'm done for now. I'm about as much fun to be around as the Grinch........before all the Who's worked their Who-magic on him.

Monday, November 10, 2008

He's Here!

Cliff Note Version:

Woke up at 4:30 a.m. Thought I was having tummy cramps. I wasn't having tummy cramps. Went to hospital at 6'ish and he was having decels, so they kept me. I was at 4cm 90% at that point.

Got a room around 7:30 a.m. and was still at 4cm. My contractions had no pause between them. Not fun. Had my epidural at 8:20 a.m. and was at 9 1/2 cm and 100 % within 45 minutes! Then I stalled, lol. Started pushing at 10:59 a.m. and he was born at 1:25 p.m. (yes, that's almost 2 1/2 hours. Ouch.)

7 lbs 14 oz, 19 1/2 inches Everyone is doing well (I feel like I've been hit by a truck, but no pain no gain, right?). He is doing really well with breastfeeding, which I'm THRILLED about. AM's isn't sure what to think yet, but I expect he'll warm up to the idea.

That's all for now. Happy birthday little man!

Friday, November 07, 2008

Finally Friday

Five days ago I mentioned that I had no idea what I would do with myself this week.

The answer, as it turns out, is "not much".

Monday: went to the doctor's office
Tuesday: took AM to lunch (where I almost got stuck in a McDonald's booth.....yay me!)
Wednesday: felt like poo all day and did a whole lotta nothin'
Thursday: cleaned all of the too-small clothes out of AM's closet, than re-organized the baby's clothes. Went to lunch with MotH. Tried to take a nap. Went to Sam's Club when MotH got home.
Friday: technically Friday hasn't happened yet, but I know I'm planning to meet my sis for lunch and will probably go to Target to spend a gift card

I felt really crampy and nauseous after lunch yesterday and thought maybe the million stairs I had to climb in the Plaza parking garage started something. No such luck.

The one thing this week did reinforce........I don't do well with alone time. I start to get very anxious when I'm not around other adults. I don't know why I'm that way, but I always have been. Thank heavens my sister (who is also that way) will be going on maternity leave in a little over a week. We can keep each other company!

Monday, November 03, 2008

Still Here

It's Monday again. That means I had another doctor's visit.

I'm now 3 cm dilated. I know! I was bummed too. I figured with all the contractions and, how do I describe this, "thunking" going on that I would be more then 3 cm! I also "lost" something last week. Hopefully that makes sense to most of you.

My doctor was excited about my progress. He tells me the baby has dropped (I wondered) and that the head is "right there".

Now I'm a little fearful that he'll just fall out. I know the likelihood of that happening is slim to none, but few people would accuse me of being logical right now.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

I Feel Like (No) Dinner Tonight

I do not want to make dinner.

Not in a casual "I don't feel like it"-way. No, this is a "if I have to make dinner, I will be unreasonably rage-filled"-thing.

I feel the same way about the dishes that need to be done (yet will feel guilty if MotH ends up doing them........I'm such a living contradiction). I'd rather take them systematically into the street and smash them. That way I don't have to sweep up the mess.

The only thing that prevents this is the knowledge that I would then need to go to WalFart and buy more dishes. That place stinks.

Yes, I know I'm grumpy and no fun to be around. Live with it. I don't get a vacation from pregnancy hormones or discomforts and tonight, neither do you. Dealing with me is YOUR burden to bear (and by "your", I mean those trapped in the house with me).

It's not in the budget right now to go out (or bring in) and that really ticks me off.

Note to MotH and AM: eat PB&J. Or don't. Don't whine if you're hungry because I just presented you with your dinner options.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Something's Happening

I had an appointment today.

Last week, there was NO change at all, cervically speaking.

This week, I'm 2 cm and 50% effaced! Yay!

I know I could walk around like this for a good, long time........but at least all systems are pointed in the direction of the finish line :).

Thursday, October 23, 2008

THEN What Happened??

Am I alone in this?

I have always loved a good chick flick or romantic novel. Sure, you know how it will end, but I still love them.

It's an escape for me.

However, there is one thing that absolutely drives me NUTS about these types of movies and books.

I want to know what happens NEXT.

Right now I'm watching Dirty Dancing for the millionth time and find myself wanting to know, for the millionth time, what happens after that final dance. Do Baby and Johnny find a way to make it work? Marry and have 2.5 kids?

I also wonder why the "pretty" sister in Dirty Dancing looks like Freddie Mercury, but that's beside the point.

I'm the same way with books. Once the couple gets together in the end, I feel oddly ripped off when I don't know how far their relationship goes.

Of course IF they show you what happens "next" it's usually an indication that someone's about to be tragically killed in a car accident or get a terminal illness.

That sort of thing kills the romance, you know?

So am I the only one that feels this way?

Monday, October 20, 2008

Indiana Jones and 8 Year Old Boys

I know it's risky to make two posts in one day. Inevidably people will ignore one and read the other, but I'm a "fly by the seat of my pants"-kinda gal, so I'll risk it.

With all the talk about he new little guy, I haven't shared any AM stories lately.

I have one.

It turns out that no matter how often you tell an eight year old boy "REAL archaeologists don't have adventures like Indiana Jones. They don't get chased by bad guys and don't have to swing across bottomless pits with their trusty whip."...........well, they don't really listen.

Because they really, really, really want to believe that someday their lives will be that exciting.

Sometimes, they don't even wait for "someday".

Take Sunday, for example.

I was sitting on the deck going through a box of baby stuff MotH unearthed in attic. AM was playing with his whip (part of a package deal offered at 50% off at Joanns and NOT A REAL WHIP). I suggested he put a ball on his t-ball stand and try to "whip" the ball off the stand.

That kept him busy for a good, long time.

Then I heard it. A distinct series of thuds.

I looked up and he was face-down at the bottom of the slide (Indiana Jones hat STILL in place atop his head). I asked if he was okay (he was) and asked what happened.

I already knew what happened. The whip trailing down the slide told the story.

He had tied the end to the swingset and tried to repel down the slide with his whip. Didn't work out very well.

Although I am proud to say that while he hates tying his shoes, he can apparently make a knot (in a costume-quality Indiana Jones whip) well enough to support the weight of an eight year old boy. The whip didn't fail, he just hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to hold on.

Undeterred, he used the whip to climb back up the slide. Singing the Indiana Jones theme-song at the top of his lungs the entire time. However, I didn't see him try the repelling trick again.

MotH was very impressed by this story (thus further highlighting the difference between men and women). I simply surrendered to the fact that no matter what you do, eight year boys are going to wish SO BADLY that there are adventures out there waiting to be discovered, that they will try to create the adventure themselves.

Even if it's down a yellow slide, rather then a bottomless pit.

35 Weeks......and thanks, I think

That was my ob's original goal for me.

As he told me, most women have "take home" kids at 35 weeks, so we are both jazzed that I made it to this particular milestone.

To be exact, I'm 35 weeks and 2 days.

I'd like this little man to keep baking a little longer (despite my gripings), but feel like I can relax a smidge.

He did tell me that my cervix (we're all grown-ups, right, so saying "cervix" shouldn't be a problem) wasn't doing a darn thing. I'm okay with that, I suppose (because the alternative is????), but it would be nice if I knew my body was at least heading towards the finish line.

He also told me, again, that the baby is measuring big. Then I went to a maternity chiropractor today and she was "feeling" baby and told me he was "pretty big for my gestation". So I evidently have an overachiever.

So that's my update, now on to the "thanks, I think" portion of the post.

My ob is, by far, my favorite doctor. He's been my doctor since MotH and I were newlyweds (so 13+ years) and it just a compassionate and caring doctor. He sat on my bed and cried with us after the twins were born and NOBODY wants this to be a successful pregnancy more then he does.

Today, however, he missed the mark. For a man that makes his living dealing with hormonal women, I would have expected him to be wiser.

He has delighted in pointing out how big I'm getting each time I go in. He's a little like AM. I can tell he honestly considers this to be a compliment.

So I'm sitting on the table today and he says "wow, you look so pregnant. It looks like you're having quads!".

Um, thanks?

How does one respond to such a "compliment"?

I just sat there stupidly and he quickly added "you know, compared to last time".

That's not really helping, buddy.

And because he apparently suffers from temporary short-term memory loss, he made his final pronouncement when I emerged from the room. He saw me come out and announced to his nurse (who had just given me MY LAST SHOT!!!!!!! and is well acquainted with my ample physique) "look at how big her belly is!".

I don't know if he had a delivery last night that made him lose sleep, but he certainly brought a big shovel to work with which to dig himself into a hole.

I just laughed, because I knew he wasn't saying it to tease me. He's just so tickled that I AM this big.

I, on the other hand, do not find this fact to be nearly as delightful as he apparently finds it. I suppose that's to be expected.

I left the office with my cervix closed and my ego in tatters.

But did I mention that I had my LAST SHOT TODAY???!!! If I was capable of doing so, I would do some sort of "end-zone" dance.

No, you can't watch.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Christmas Music


No, I mean it. Seriously?!

According to a local station's website, they have started their 24/7 Christmas music.

Is it not October 15? Halloween hasn't even happened yet, let alone Thanksgiving (I won't listen to Christmas music until Thanksgiving. I have standards.).

However, I am married to a "Christmas should be celebrated 365 days a year"-man. I've found Christmas cd's in the car stereo in JUNE. He's warped. Anyway, he's thrilled that it's started already.

I heard yesterday that retailers are trying to get a jump on Christmas shoppers since the economy is doing a belly flop (I was going to say "swan dive", but it hasn't been nearly that graceful). Many, including Hell........and by "Hell" I mean Walmart......have reduced some items to "Black Friday" prices already.

Which begs the question: what do they plan to do ON Black Friday. Seems a little anticlimactic to me. Not that I'll be shopping this year.

Hobby Lobby has had their Christmas stuff out for at LEAST a month. I noticed that Target has theirs out too.

Yet despite the efforts of the radio station and various retailers, time still isn't going any faster. Yes, all roads (blog posts?) lead back to pregnancy.

Speaking of pregnancy, do any of my (two) readers have any "must have" ideas for the hospital bag. MotH told me I had to do it this weekend. He's a bossy one.

Monday, October 13, 2008

End of the tunnel

I suppose I can see a light. It's dim. Far away. Still, I see it.

No, not of the end of the pregnancy. The end of "THE SHOTS". I got one today and my last one is next week.

Not a minute to soon.

I'm too tired to be funny. Witty is far beyond my abilities right now. I'm wondering if I can talk MotH into brushing my teeth for me.

Have I mentioned how I hate these things?

The side-effects seem to be ramping up, not reducing. Makes it hard to get stuff done.

MotH keeps harping on me to get my bag packed. Isn't it enough that I've bought most of the stuff to pack?

No, apparently it's not. I think he's afraid he'll be forced to find my breast pads and bring the bag to the hospital for me. You know, because someone might think HE'S breastfeeding. *rolling eyes*

Of course after some of the clothing he bought me when I was in the hospital last time, I should be the one afraid. I ask you, how many pairs of biking shorts does a pregnant woman need?

The nursery letters are still sitting on my dining room table (recently relocated back to the dining room from the kitchen table). I got them repainted (turns out there was no black in the nursery bedding, so I had to do an emergency re-paint). They still need brackets attached to the back before MotH can hang them.

I figure he won't be in his room right away, so I've got some time.

Okay, I just ran out of what little steam I still had. So long. Farewell. Auf Wiedersehen, adieu (yes, I had to look it up).


Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Being a Camel.........and Opposites Attract

No, I couldn't settle on one topic tonight, but then I rarely do.

I need to talk about the insatiable thirst I have. No amount of water drinking will satisfy. I guzzle the stuff all day, yet still crave more.

Someone asked me what I do with all the water I drink. I told them I'm a camel, only my hump attached on the wrong side.

Surely camels don't drink as much as I do.

As a result, I am single-handedly keeping bathroom tissue companies in business. One double roll a day, people. One. A. Day. I'm like a one-woman deforestation machine.

Now my second topic, on opposites.

I had a doc visit Monday and they did an ultrasound "growth check". Now I know there is a little wiggle room in their calculations, but the long and short of it is the baby is big for his gestational age.

In fact, now my doctor is worried he might get too big (which means what.....he'll have to start paying me rent to live full-time in my uterus?).

Only I could swing from one of the smallest babies (AM weighed 1 lb 2 oz, for those that don't know) to potentially giving birth to a chunker. This little man is already the size AM was WHEN HE CAME HOME, which seemed gigantic at 5x's his birth weight.

This has sufficiently freaked me out. See, it hurt to deliver a one pounder. Yes, I know there are those in my "audience" that have done the whole natural childbirth thing and I'll be hard pressed to garner any sympathy from that person, but the idea of delivering a baby six, seven or even eight times that size causes more then a casual wince.

Yeah, yeah. Women used to squat in rice patties, deliver and go back to picking rice. Good for them.

MotH told me the other day "you'll probably have a 10 pound baby" (he was nearly 10 pounds). Now why would he jinx me in that way? Yes, I'd rather have a 10 pounder then a one pounder, but there something wrong with a nice, seven pound baby?

I can do this, right? I mean I know I don't have a choice, but......I can do it, right?

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Old Friends

Except, you know, they aren't old. Because then I would be old. We can't have that. "Former" friends doesn't sound quite right either. That suggests something happened that made them "former". How about "retro" friends? I sort of like that, since the music from our generation is now considered why shouldn't we be?

My highschool graduating class broke the mold with our ten-year reunion. It was an eleven-year reunion, lol. Someone dropped the ball on the planning and it was delayed a year.

Keeping with tradition, there was a somewhat informal sixteen-year reunion this weekend and just like the last one, I missed it (no way was I dragging my large self down there). I have to admit that part of me just wasn't ready to face a reunion without my best friend there, but mostly it was due to my growing girth and it's accompanying discomforts.

So I didn't go. Enter Facebook.

Over the past week or so, I've connected with a number of my retro friends. One of them went to the reunion last night and posted a bunch of pictures.

Oh. my. goodness! How is it possible for people to look exactly the same, yet different? There were only two or three people I couldn't identify (and they may have been spouses), but I saw people I haven't seen since we walked across the stage and flipped our tassels!

I saw pictures of people I got along with. People I didn't. AND a picture of a friend I tried to track down a couple of years ago and couldn't find. I found her!

In fact, she's on Facebook and I'm nervously waiting to see if she'll accept my friend request. A friend request is sort of the cyber equivalent of the "Do you like me, check yes or no" we passed in middle school.

Of course now I wish I had gone to the reunion, but I have delusions of being fit and fabulous in time for our 21st reunion and I'll go then :).

No, the fact that I haven't been fit nor fabulous SINCE graduation hasn't escaped my notice, thankyouverymuch.

Go Spartans!

Monday, September 29, 2008

Warning. The following post is rated PG-13.

Yes, two posts in one night. Don't think this will become a habit.

I should warn the more easily embarrassed among us to stop reading now. I'm going to talk about something of a delicate nature. Of course watch about 15 minutes of television and it will be shoved in your face three times, but I should still put the disclaimer out there.

It is getting impossible to watch television without needing to break out the "This is Your Body" book.

Just when I start to relax, one of "those" commercials comes on. You know the ones. About ED (okay, erectile dysfunction.........there, I said it. Are you happy?). While I'm grateful that Bob Dole is no longer doing those commercials (a visual image I could have died happy without having, thankyouverymuchsenatordole), why must there be such a prolific number of these commercials?

They are so graphic!!! Particularly the warnings. "If you have an erection lasting more then four hours, seek medical help".

(Now I'm blushing)

First, four hours? Clearly these are people without young children. Plus, who exactly would need the "medical assistance"?

I'm getting off-topic, but let me just say that IF we ever had a need for those pills in this house and IF either of us ended up needing "medical attention", I would be hiding that bottle faster then you can say "Viagra".

Anyway, every time one of these commercials comes on, the house gets hear-a-pin-drop-silent and I wait for the inevitable "mom, what's an erection?". I usually try to ask a loud question right at that moment in the commercial and so far that seems to be working (meaning the question hasn't been asked), but I know my days are numbered.

Why oh why must they constantly air these commercials? We watch a lot of Discovery Channel and TLC and are BOMBARDED with them. They were even on during the Chiefs game yesterday.


My mother used to bemoan feminine hygiene product ads when we were growing up, particularly when my little brother was watching tv. Remember the Summer's Eve commercial where mother and daughter strolled down a sandy beach talking about "freshness" (anyone actually HAVE one of those moments with their mother? Yeah, me either.)? She particularly HATED that one.

I always thought she was overreacting. I mean periods are just a fact of life, right? Besides, what kid REALLY watches commercials (assuming they aren't for some toy they immediately decide they HAVETOHAVERIGHTNOW).

Then my brother got in trouble at school for calling another boy a vaginal yeast infection. Guess he was picking up more then we thought. (For the record, when asked he said he didn't know what that was, only that it "must be really bad because the women on tv are always upset when they have one".)

So I live in constant fear that my son will get into a verbal spar with another child at school, or church, and tell him he's just mad because his erection has lasted more then four hours.

I'll apologize now, should your child be on the receiving end, and can only say that we were just trying to watch Mythbusters and got more then we bargained for.

New week, new symptoms

So here I sit (literally) at 32 weeks (and two days, but who's counting?). I figured I was done experiencing NEW pregnancy symptoms and would just need to ride out the old-but-getting-worse symptoms.

Heartburn? Check
Stretch marks? Check (though technically they are leftovers from my pregnancy with AM)
Acne? Check (someone once assured me that oily skin means it will age slower. I was tempted to press my forehead on her window. That stuff is hard to get off!)
Swollen ankles/feet? C-H-E-C-K
Frequent potty breaks? For the love of porcelain, check!
Hemorrhoids? I'll leave you guessing on that one. I can't always be an open book.

You get the picture.

Yet pregnancy continues to be a bevy of surprises. Like a Fun House, only all the mirrors that make me look oddly tall and thin have been removed.

My newest symptom: shredded upper abdominal muscles.

Oh, I can hear you saying "shredded? She's so prone to exaggeration and drama."

To that I say, "oh yeah?!". (Pithy comebacks are my gift.)

The muscles about an inch below my ribcage are SCREAMIN' mad. To make matters worse, I had my gallbladder removed a couple of years ago and I swear to you the stupid scar is trying to burst open (the incision that they remove the gallbladder through is about an inch below my sternum). I've actually had to sneak a peek to make sure it's not red and swollen, it aches so bad.

I expected the baby to stick his feet in my ribs. I've heard enough preggos talk about that. I've NOT heard anyone complain about abdominal muscles being torn apart.

Whine, whine, whine, complain, complain.

This one really hurts though!

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Political Ads

No real time to post any lengthy feelings on the subject, but I just have to say how much I loathe political ads.

Does anyone actually make voting decisions based on these childish, insincere and usually misleading ads? I hope not.

I suppose it's a symptom of a greater disease. As long as they can gripe about the particular verbiage of one stupid statement, or ruminate over how many cars someone has, then they can avoid talking about anything of value.

Oh wait, that's pretty much the state of politics in the country as a whole. Everyone is so busy watching for a "gotcha" moment (so they can get on tv and rant about the injustice/prejudice/whatever of the person unfortunate enough to stick their foot in their mouth) that nobody bothers to try and solve the actual problems.

The country's problems are just another platform they use to get in front of the camera.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Whining........and a mystery

Let me preface this post by saying I am blogging while barely conscious. I wish there was a good story. There isn't. Unless you are intrigued by tales of shots in the backside (or just slightly north of there) that render one totally useless.

So if I spell something wrong, use improper English (okay, it took FOUR tries to type "English" correctly) or generally blather, forgive me.

I still can't figure out why some weeks these blessed (and I mean that in a they-are-not-blessed way) shots effect me so acutely while I barely notice them other weeks.

This wouldn't be a problem, except my family likes to eat (I'm including myself in "my family, because the scale at the ob's office stands as proof that I like to eat). They also like clean underwear. And a lunch packed for school. The occasional restocking of the pantry. You know, super-complicated stuff that is commonly considered insurmountable by normal folk.

I think I vaguely remember "normal".

I'll stop whining now.

I have a mystery. Not a good Nancy Drew-like mystery where you wonder who "done it". No, I already know how the mystery ends and the parties responsible. It's the "clues", the steps leading up to the end of the story, that have me baffled.

Can someone please explain to me how it's possible for my sink to be full of dishes when there has been nary a soul home all day? I will admit to a couple of the dishes. But the rest of them?

Oh I know who's responsible, but what I would like to know is exactly HOW MANY dishes does one require in order to survive overnight and through the early morning hours?

Evidently quite a few.

Needless to say that total exhaustion and a full sink of dishes do not a happy/cheerful wife and mother make.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Pregnancy brain

I remember having pregnancy brain while pregnant with AM. However, I don't remember completely losing my ability to recall words and/or their spelling while pregnant.

Let this post stand as an open apology to anyone that has been forced to try and decipher something I've said or typed. I am sorry.

I will give you two examples.

One - the other day I wanted to ask MotH to get the milk out of the refrigerator. Seems simple enough, right? I ended up asking him to please get the milk out of the "big rectangle that keeps food cold". Would have been easier to say "refrigerator", right? I agree, assuming I could have recalled the word at that moment. I drew a blank.

Two - a couple of days ago, I was having a conversation via the 'net about the apple orchard we usually go to. I'm a little disappointed that we won't make it this year, but mentioned that my real disappointment stemmed from the fact that, and I quote, "I trotally wanted to make apple pumpkin muphens".

Yes, you read that right. M-U-P-H-E-N-S. Muphens. Sure, it's phonetically correct, but even spell check didn't know what to do with that one.

I substitute words that are close enough, but not quite right. Like saying "sit in your chair and eat your homework". See, when that happens it defeats the purpose of trying to get AM to be still and concentrate. He's too busy laughing at me.

I live in constant fear that I'll send out an email at work that makes the recipient think I'm one cuckoo short of a nest.

Who am I kidding. It's probably already happened.

The part that really concerns me? I recall that pregnancy brain didn't really get better after AM was born. So I'm left to wonder if this is a progressive disease? Will I be worse after this baby?

I'm not sure I want the answer to that.

For now, I'm off to eat a sinamun role.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Have. mercy.

Seven pages of homework.

Two and a half hours.

Rewriting something NINE times until he finally used decent penmanship and I could read what he'd written.

I'm not supposed to take a bath, so Calgon can't take me anywhere.

He's lucky he's so cute, err handsome.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

This won't DO!

I think my belly button is going to pop.


Do you KNOW the suffering I will endure? The "turkey timer"-jokes MotH will tell? It's bad enough that he laughs at me when I put olive oil on my stomach (it helps with itchy-belly syndrome) and asks "are you making sure the skin browns evenly before the turkey is done?".

Plus, I don't WANT it to pop.

It's not like I can sleep on my stomach to make it stop. I'd be a human teeter-totter. What can I do?! Duct tape? Bubble gum? MIGHTY PUTTY? WHAT!!!???

A friend found me a product called Popper Stopper. I hope it doesn't come to that.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

On a happier note

I suppose I should have posted this first, but quite honestly I'm not "all there" right now and it just occurred to me to post it.

As of today, I am 30 WEEKS PREGNANT. I so wish I could enjoy this fact, but right now I feel too crummy.

However, this was another of my BIG milestones and let me tell you, it feels awesome to hit it.

God is so good!

Stay away. Far, far away.

Our home is quickly dissolving into a quarantine ward.

So now AM is sick too. I assume he has the same plague I have, but I was blessed with a child that (in the words of his pediatrician) has an extremely high tolerance for pain and discomfort. She bases this on a recent HORRIBLE ear infection he had that wasn't bothering him in the least (I thought the copious amount of thick, green stuff coming from his nose was sinus related.....who knew? He, of course, insisted he felt "fine").

At any rate, I'm thinking they broke that part of his brain when he was in the NICU. However, this particular ability to block out pain evidently extends only to illness. If there is something even slightly funny about his sock, the whole world comes to a halt until it's fixed.

Anyway, the benefit of an older child is that they are supposed to be able to "tell" you when something is wrong. All of the guessing that gives a mom gray hair in the early years gives way to the relief of a child that can clearly state what ails them.

Except when they don't.

He had a runny nose all morning and was sneezing (though he hasn't done that for a while). He's congested. Low-grade fever. When I ask him what doesn't feel good, he says "nothing on my whole body feels bad".

Well golly, that's helpful.

So I have to assume he has whatever I have, but that it took him nearly a week to get it from me (MotH is, thus far, healthy). I certainly hope he doesn't stay sick as long as I do. He does have the benefit of keeping all of his germ fighting cells to himself, rather then having to donate a large part of them to a growing person, so I have my fingers crossed that he'll be well soon.

Or course I'm not sure how I'll know when he's well, since he doesn't feel sick now.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Still sick

I'm still sick and yes, still feeling sorry for myself.

Now, I'm starting to run a fever, which is REALLY freaking me out. I am one of those people that tends to run high fevers and can go from 99.5 to well over 102/103 very quickly. Of course all I can do is take Tylenol.

I guess that's not ALL I can take. I called my ob's office to tell him that not only am I not feeling better, but I'm feeling worse every day. They called in an antibiotic for me, so hopefully that will set things right in my world again.

The baby seems to be doing just dandy in his now heated pool. I started using my doppler thing again (the very one that sent a freaked-out me to the ob's office a couple of months ago), because now that I can feel him strongly, it's easy for me to know he's "ok" and not freak if I don't find the heartbeat right away. Of course he's also big enough now for me to find it easily. At any rate, his heartrate is just fine and he's moving around a lot, so he appears to be weathering the storm quite well at this point.

Monday, September 08, 2008

Self Pity

Since self pity is about the only kind I get around here, allow me to indulge my sorry self.

I recently read that the progesterone in pregnancy causes feelings of breathlessness. In the third trimester, those feelings are compounded by the fact that the wee one is smooshing it's mama's lungs.

I figure since I'm on extra progesterone, I'm probably more breathless then the next pregnant woman. I'm certain it's not due to the fact that I was sadly out-of-shape before pregnancy. Nope, it's the progesterone.

So what has the power to make a breathless, pregnant woman even MORE miserable. A bad head cold.

I have no idea where I got it, but that person deserves to be tortured.

I thought my throat irritation yesterday was due to the bonfire we had in our fireplace Saturday night to destroy the documents the FBI is looking.........oops, the old financial documents we uncovered in the soon-to-be nursery (more on that in a minute).

With that as my assumption (and you know what they say about assuming), I went to Worlds of Fun yesterday (company picnic/party). We weren't there all that terribly long, but by the time I got home I knew I wasn't dealing with just throat irritation. By the time I missed almost an entire nights sleep (due to the inability to breathe), it was very clear that I was sick.


I just really hope that AM doesn't get it, since he was drinking from the same water bottle I was using :(.

Now I don't mean to be dramatic (who? me?), but can people die from a cold? I seriously cannot breathe. It's not that I'm wheezing or having some sort of asthma issue, it's that I literally cannot suck in enough oxygen. I'm not a mouth breather (no offense to those that are) and being forced to breathe through my mouth is nearly as distressing as the illness itself!

'Nuff bout that.

Saturday we decided to clean out the closet in the nursery. This was necessary since we plan to put baby clothes in there and the closet was home to a variety of things ranging from my crafting supplies to, as we discovered, unpacked boxes of financial documents from when we moved in (that was 10 years ago, in case anyone's keeping track).

That closet was a little like a time capsule. We found pictures that probably haven't seen the light of day since we moved in. Old health insurance statements. I even found my birth certificate and duplicate copy of our marriage license in an old purse (I wondered where those went).

The pictures were a little depressing. I'm sure my other girlfriends can relate: you don't like to be in pictures because of some perceived physical flaw. Then, ten (fifteen) years later, you wish you had a gazillion pictures of yourself because the chances of ever being that thin or, uh, perky again are slim to none.....without serious surgical intervention.

Yeah, I found some of those pictures of myself. MotH too. Did you know he used to have brown hair? And a full head of it??? It was even long on top and flopped over his eyes in an ever-becoming "skater" hairdo.

Is it any wonder he became my stud muffin?

We also found a stash of socks. I have no idea why they were in that closet, but I suspect that's where the gremlins that steal them from my dryer hide them.

Okay. I'm done. My illness drained brain just promptly ran out of things to type. G'bye.

Thursday, September 04, 2008


Today at work, a co-worker told me I looked "really great". The other day, another co-worker said "you just get cuter every day".

Seriously? Have these people had their eyes examined? By a trained expert? Did anyone smell their breath when they returned from lunch?

I just want to ask them "what, exactly, about me is 'cute' or 'great?'".

Would it be the double chin? The one that looks like I'm storing nuts for the winter in it?

Maybe it's the red rash creeping up my chest.

Oh, I know! It's my cankles. I have new dimples. ON MY FEET!! I have fluid retention in areas of my ankles/feet that I wasn't aware had any room for fluid to accumulate. Have you ever seen someone fill a latex glove with water? So that the "body" of the glove is bloated, then the skinny fingers hang off the end. Yep, that's pretty much my feet right now.

Wait! It the bouts of profuse sweating I go through several times a day. The one's that make it impossible for me to wear anything more then one time without washing.

Or it could just be............
My oily skin complete with zits
My "wide load" backside that will soon be fitted with a small, beeping warning signal to indicate when I'm about to back up
My fat upper arms that don't just "wave back" when I wave......they actually DO the wave. You know, like at ballgames.
My extra "fluff" that is already dangerously close to the "normal" weight-gain range, despite the fact that I still have the "heaviest" weeks ahead.

I'm certain there are more, but I need to go on?

Yet, and here's the thing that probably qualifies me for a pro-bono head examination, I love it. I LOVE feeling him move (even if it still weirds me out a little). I LOVE every new symptom.

I LOVE feeling like I'M FINALLY a card-carrying member of a secret women-only club that I got kicked out of just prior to making it through hazing last time.

In the past, I've had to bite my tongue when I've heard a fully pregnant woman complain about the discomforts of pregnancy. I've thought "yep, swollen ankles are MUCH more uncomfortable then sitting by your son's bedside praying he'll live another day".

I swore that I would NEVER. BE. ONE. OF. THOSE. WOMEN. if I was every lucky enough to be pregnant again.

But here's the thing........I LOVE that I have some things to complain about. Seriously. Sometimes I complain just because I can, because it makes me "just another crabby pregnant lady". Don't any of you DARE tell MotH that! Refer to my above complaint about extra "fluffage". I'll take you out. I will.

Of course all of this will change once I've had the baby and I'm dealing with the aftermath. I'm pretty sure I won't love that.

Monday, August 25, 2008


Do I really need a more descriptive title?

I realize that many of you have probably heard this tale before. No, no, not because I've told it. After all, it only happened about nine hours ago.

No, you've likely heard it because it was the first thing AM announced as he walked into school this morning.

For those that haven't heard it, feel free to guffaw at my expense.

First, I will start by explaining how my day began.

With wet pants.

Not because I WET my pants, but because my dryer stopped drying, thus making it a rather useless cold air tumbler.

Thinking MotH had selected too little time when he threw them in, I turned it back on and went about my morning.

Forty-five minutes later, the pants are still wet and cold.

MotH is downstairs attempting to do something with a ShopVac. I'm certain it is wishful thinking on his part that it's not the heating element, but I acknowledge the importance of letting him do this "his way".

Anyway, I ran upstairs and dug frantically through my closet searching for new bottoms. Tried to put on my jean skirt. Broke a nail struggling to get it into place. That's a bad sign.

It gets worse.

I finally decided to wear a pair of black gauchos that haven't seen the light-of-day since the beginning of my pregnancy. Even then, they were only used because anything with a true waistband made me nauseous. They're my ultimate "fat girl" pants.

That's still not the bad part.

I grabbed the shirt I'd ironed and put it on. Felt a little more snug then last time I wore it (approximately two weeks ago). No biggie. I'm sure it will stretch a little.

Pulled it down over my belly.

Have you ever noticed how tight a sausage looks in it's casing? Yeah, it was about like that.

Like a boa constrictor, the shirt clung to me with a tenacity static cling would admire.

I knew I couldn't wear it. I couldn't lift my arms! Bend over! BREATHE!!

And I couldn't get it off. Oh I tried. Mercy how I tried. If MotH had been home, he probably could have disentangled me (though I may have had to dislocate a shoulder to get the job done).

I did the only thing I could. I cut it off. Stuck a pair of scissors in the "V" of the neckline and cut from top to bottom.

As the sweet, fresh taste of O2 filled my lungs (and I sucked it in with all the lung capacity I still have remaining) it began to dawn on me that things were changing. I'm not going to be able to get away with the clothes in my closet for the remainder of my pregnancy. My optimistic maternity-wear shopping was coming back to bite me in the butt, or at least strangle me.

The minute we walked in the classroom this morning, AM told his teacher that I had to cut myself out of my shirt.

I knew that pregnancy was full of discomforts. This wasn't what I had in mind.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

!! LOL !!

Did anyone happen to notice the post from Hy-vee's customer service under my cereal post?

Now, I'm going to assume that neither Chaos nor Nurse Boy decided to mess with me. I'm still hormonal, you know (MotH is too, thanks for asking).

If it IS true, I am d-y-i-n-g at the idea that Hy-vee has a customer service person that spends the day Googling their name looking for negative blog entries, lol!

Okay. I gotta fess up. I, uh, found the marshmallows. I had the box poised for a end-zone worthy spike into the waste receptacle when MotH interceded and suggested he take a look. He pulled out the inner bag.

There, in the bottom, were all the marshmallows. Starting about three inches from the bottom, the cereal was marshmallow-free, but they were there. As bottom dwellers.

However, I ask you this: is it natural for a marshmallow, something that is virtually puffed, sugar air, to sink to the bottom? It is lighter then the accompanying cereal, is it not? Didn't the marshmallows defy the very laws of gravity by sinking to the bottom?

Can I be blamed for thinking there were NO marshmallows when, after pouring a bowl AND peering into the box, I saw none?

I didn't think so.

So Hy-vee, you can rest easy that your Treasures did, indeed, contain the "treasure". However, to prevent this sort of problem in the future, the manufacturing process should be reviewed.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Random musings

AM came home with "homework".

Apparently, he has to take a bug to school tomorrow.

Do you suppose the ants in my kitchen will work? I'd certainly LOVE to send them someplace else. I don't know why they are there (MotH's "theory" is that they have invaded due to the wet year we've had). I just want them gone. Perhaps they can go to school with AM tomorrow.

Hopefully they won't make him bring them back home.

Is it bad that I've now had TWO onion bagels with cheese? Since bringing AM home approximately 45 minutes ago? Bottomless pit doesn't really do me justice right now.

While on the subject of too much food, AM asked me where I got my shot this morning (he finds it amusing that I get them in the hiney.....or just slightly north of the hiney). I told him and said "it didn't hurt at all".

"That's because your bottom is so big, mom".

Budomp bum.

Laugh a minute, that kid. MotH loves it because AM says ALL the thing I KNOW he's thinking, but could never get away with verbalizing........and living another day.

I was also asked, on the way home, how babies come out. After sharing with me HIS thoughts (which closely follow the "hiney" topic we began with), he asked ME to explain.

Isn't he supposed to ask his dad that question? Then they're supposed to go fishing and have some sort of man-to-small-man discussion. Like someplace far, far away from me.

I explained that God made girls different then boys and that they have a special "part" that allows them to have babies. I then told him that was as much information as he's getting for now, lol.

I'm certain that makes me a failure on some level. It will be my burden to bear.

Of course I should be grateful he asked me in the car. It wasn't all that long ago that he suddenly, and rather loudly, asked me to explain exactly HOW mom's feed babies milk from their bodies. Where does it come home? How does the baby get it?

Did I mention that was in the middle of the shoe department at KMart?

Yep, nothin' like a kid to make you humble.

Sunday, August 17, 2008


School starts in exactly 10 hours!

I'm okay with the fact that school is starting (unlike the "ugly cry" when he started kindergarten). AM is excited, so I'm excited for him.

I've got all the crayons, pencils and markers initialed (sorry, but with a class size I can count on one hand, I'm not writing his full name on everything). Kleenex and paper plates purchased. Backpack bulging at the seams with folders. New school clothes waiting to be picked up at the store (please, please, please let them fit since he'll be outta luck in the morning if they don't!).

I had a little moment of rebellion when it came to paints (Prang, Oval or Bradley only, please) and bought Crayola brand. Then today, while cleaning out a closet, I found his school supplies from two years ago with a completely UNUSED thing of Prang water colors. So I rebelled, but nobody will know about it.

I'm ready. He's ready. All is well.

Plus, I am really, REALLY, R-E-A-L-L-Y hoping that once we are back in the "swing" of things, time will start to hustle along a little faster. Not permanently (I know to be careful what I wish for), but at least until November.

MotH got new stairs installed from our house down to the garage yesterday. The previous stairs stuck out into the garage and needed to be shortened in order for us to close in those stairs and the stairs to the basement, thus creating a "hallway" by which to go downstairs.

This is necessary for two reasons:
1 - the cat's box is currently in what will be the baby's room and the only other place to put it is in the basement. Since he can't open doors, and since he'd get into all colors of mischief in the garage, we will be installing a pet door and he'll be able to go downstairs safely.

2 - the basement is supposed to be AM's "safe zone". His only source of anxiety with the new baby is the fact that the baby will cry. AM's doesn't "do" crying very well. It's a sensory thing (he also doesn't do loud gymnasium sounds well, or screaming kids, or whining kids, etc.......though oddly enough it doesn't keep HIM from being loud, screaming or whining). Anyway, the basement is going to be someplace he can go play if he feels he needs to get away, plus it gives he and MotH a place to set up their model train (currently it only comes out at Christmas)

So we have new stairs and will soon have a new hallway. It's fabulous to be married to a handy-man!

There was one, little thing we didn't get accomplished this weekend. I really wanted to go through the baby stuff we have (much of it I haven't seen in roughly seven years.) to see what I do and don't need to register for. Since sis and I are going Thursday to register, time is a'tickin'. Hopefully some night this week.

Oh and while I'm on the subject, if anyone has a "must have" baby item, let me know. I'm looking for registry inspiration.

Moving on........I have a confession (have to throw one in every now and then, since my blog is "Confessions of an Imperfect Mom"): we left church early today. I don't know what the deal is, but I am going through a stage where I feel ON FIRE ALL MORNING LONG. It feels like my muscles are burning. Like my organs are steaming. Even my teeth feel hot. What is up with that?!

The sanctuary was plenty cool, but I was sweating. Unfortunately, I also began to get very, very nauseous. I was worried I'd get sick, so we bailed without testing our luck.

We also skipped the church picnic tonight for the same reason. Oh well, there's always next year. Plus, we went to the one a couple of months ago for the Romania mission trip, so I figure I'm "good".

Finally, this totally random thought: I really want crab rangoon. Yes, in that if-I-don't-get-any-nobody-will-have-a-pleasant-evening-type of way. I'm thinking Chinese food is on the menu tonight.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Harry Potter. For kids?!

I took AM to see Star Wars: The Clone Wars today with some friends. Not exactly cinematic excellence, but he enjoyed it (I mostly entertained myself by watching my belly move).

Anyway, in true movie-going fashion, we had to endure roughly three gazillion (give or take a couple) movie premieres prior to the "main event".

One of those was a premier for the new Harry Potter movie. Something about a Half-Blood Prince (not sure what that means).

I kid you not: I thought (until I saw "Harry") it was a preview for some horror flick for adults. All three of the kids I was with said it was scary.

From what I could gather, it's about a "dark" wizard that goes to the wizard school years before Harry. He begins to talk about how he can do harm to those that are mean to him and then after a litany of equally creepy "talents", stops the "head" wizard (no idea what he would really be called) with the confession that he can talk to snakes. They follow him and whisper to him.

Nothing like a good, ol' serpent reference to bring out the warm fuzzies IN WHAT IS SUPPOSED TO BE MARKETED TO CHILDREN!!!!!!

Throw in a few flashing demon-faces and it would seem that they are trying to insinuate that he's demonic/very evil. If that's NOT their intention, they need to fire their advertising team.

It was seriously, seriously disturbing.

Now, we aren't a Harry Potty family. None of us have read the books nor have we seen the movies. We don't intend to. I've talked to too many people who's kids were negatively impacted by the books. Not to mention the fact that it "entertains" with something God doesn't mince words about. I'm not going to let AM read a warm, feel-good book about adultery, so why would I let him entertain himself with something about wizardry?

I would argue that Harry Potter isn't exactly kid fodder. If adults want to watch/read, I have no beef with that.

Oh, and as a side topic. The kid I assume to be the "Half-Blood Prince" is truly creepy looking. Exactly how does one answer that casting call?

Wanted: child actor capable of sending cold chills down the spine with one hollow stare.

Gosh, dear. Little Johnny would be PERFECT for that part. Maybe the fact that he tortures small animals will help him get the job?!

Makes me wonder about parents willing to let their kid participate in something like that.

Yes, I know that my opinion of the great and powerful J.K. Rowlings will be met with responses ranging from "she's right on" to "she's a Bible-banging freak". I can deal with that and frankly don't care.

If Jesus comes back, I don't want Him to find AM reading something He finds offensive. I DON'T read books I would have to be ashamed of and I'll be darned if my kid will.

Let alone watch a super creepy film.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

An Open Letter to Hyvee. Re: Marshmallow Treasures....


I had a craving. I went to pour myself a bowl of what PROMISED to be marshmallow-y goodness.

The front of your box clearly displays an abundance of rainbow-colored, dehydrated marshmallows.

I looked into my bowl of cereal....and THERE WERE NO MARSHMALLOWS. I double checked the box.

There they are! Mocking me with their promise of a multi-colored sugar high.


I dumped it down the sink and found three. THREE. I ask you, is that abundant? No, it's not. It's stingy.

I'm all for saving money, Hyvee, but you need to add the word "essence" to your box: Treasures with Marshmallow-Essence.

It would save people like myself from the bitter let-down when they simply expect more from you.

Shame on you, Hyvee. I could have purchased Lucky Charms, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I got burned and that's not something a craving-prone pregnant chick is likely to forget soon.

Shame on you.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

"I'm hormonal"

No, not me. MotH. Yes, you read that correctly. My husband now claims HE is experiencing pregnancy hormones.

It's my fault, really. I'll explain.

About six weeks ago, I ordered the NEW and REVISED version of "What to Expect When You're Expecting". I'm not exactly sure what makes it NEW and REVISED, only that the cover says it is so it must be true.

Anyway, I noticed that near the back of the book there was a small'ish chapter devoted to expecting dads.

Let's be honest: this is really about ME (well, okay, me and the baby), so he really doesn't need a big chapter.

Deciding to peek into the inner workings of an expectant father's mind (although, curiously, the chapter is written by women), I immediately skipped to that chapter.

What followed was a EUREKA moment. The chapter explained pregnancy and all of it's quirky quirkiness and I immediately decided MotH HAD TO READ THIS CHAPTER.

If he would read it, I was certain a couple of things would happen. One, he would stop rolling his eyes every time I had a hormonal "moment" (he can run faster then me, so I suppose he feels safe rolling his eyes at me). Two, I might get more back rubs out of the deal, since he would certainly be filled with compassion and understanding once he had a better "feel" for my plight.

I read a couple of "high points" just to wet his appetite. It took (as mentioned above) six weeks for him to finally run out of better things to do...............oops, I mean to finally decide to read the chapter.

It would appear that there was an oversight on my part.

Last night, he sat down in the chair, heaved a heavy sigh and announced that he had been grumpy (different topic, different day....maybe) because he was having HORMONAL PROBLEMS.

Yeah, that was my reaction too.

He went on to explain that "the book" said men often experience hormonal issues when their partners are pregnant. Some hooey about getting them ready to "nurture". I said "yeah, I've really felt nurtured". He replied "to nurture the BABY, not you".

He also mentioned something about sympathy weight, but told me I wasn't to say anything to him about his thighs because he's "hormonal right now".

This morning, I said something to him about picking up a dish and he gave me a look of long-suffering and told me to be patient because, you guessed it, he's "hormonal right now".

This was a significant strategic error on my part.

I tried to convince him that MY hormones were crazier and, even if he disagreed with that, since I wasn't allowed to use my hormones as an excuse, he couldn't either.

Stupid book. Of course he hasn't READ the parts yet that I wanted him to read.

Friday, August 08, 2008


Probably the closest I'll ever get to China is currently on my tv.

Now, that's nothing new. However, I'm still sitting here weepy over the opening ceremony.

Really, it has nothing to with the little-adoption-that-could.

It has more to do with the freak show. That is to say, ME!

I'm grateful that AM's buddy is the "eldest" of four. He's well versed in crazy, pregnancy hormones.

(So far they've barely noticed I'm alive, let alone weepy over THE STINKIN' OPENING CEREMONY.)

I will probably bawl like a baby (or like someone bakin' a baby) when the US team comes in. Again, not sure why (although I tend to get weepy over anything remotely patriotic). In fact, I've had more personal ties to past US Teams when my uncle was a coach.

But I wasn't pregnant then. All bets are off now.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

It's just plain weird

I've talked about it before, but I have to say it again.

It's just plain weird to have a human in you.

Take last night. The kid pogo sticked (I don't know how he managed to get a pogo stick in there. Probably better that I don't know.) from one side of my belly to the other.


I mean, what IS he doing in there? Does this mean he'll come out with fully developed biceps and glutes?

This morning, he was practicing for Lord of the Dance or something.

And while feeling it is strange enough, SEEING it is a whole different story. I don't know what I'll do if he ever pushes hard enough for me to actually SEE what body part he's pummeling me with. I see pictures online of very definite foot outlines on the belly. Does that really happen?!

Okay, yes. I do enjoy it. It reassures me that all is well. It's still weird.

On a less "weird" note, I had chocolate cake for breakfast this morning. Oh. Yes. I. Did. Bill Cosby once said it was "healthy" (milk, eggs, flour) and I'm all about the health food, ya know. Bet it tasted better then your twigs and berries!

Oh, one more thing about this whole pregnancy thing (one more thing for THIS don't actually think I'll stop posting about it, do you??).

One word: swelling.

My legs are moving past "cankles" and working on "thankles". MotH grabbed one the other day and told me I felt "buff" (due to it's general rock hardedness). Yep, buff. That's me. I have more dimples then a one year old, but underneath all my "hail damage" I'm buff.

Monday, August 04, 2008

What's a mama bear to do?

AM is always slow to admit what's buggin' him.

He usually starts by telling me that he doesn't want to go somewhere. Then he'll start asking, every day, "where am I going tomorrow".

Many, many, many times, it's because the place in question is loud and AM doesn't "do" loud well (sensory thing). It's one of the (main) reasons he's in a small, private school.

Because it's often sensory related, it's often NOT an actual problem with the "place", meaning the place can be perfectly fine, it's just that AM isn't coping with the noise level. This has happened at church, at birthday parties, in the gym at school (anyone that knows him from school knows he has his air-traffic-control ear phones on every time he goes into the gym........they are actually firing range earmuffs, for anyone that's curious), at a friend's house, etc....

It doesn't matter how badly he wants to be in those places, he can't quite overcome his reaction to the noise level. We're hoping to find him a bio-feedback practitioner (my cousin's son, with similar problems, had tremendous luck with bio-feedback).

Okay, 'nuff bout that.

Today, I finally found out part of the reason I've been getting the "where do I go tomorrow?" question. A large (!) part of it is the noise level at summer camp. However, this morning he casually said "mom, come here for a second". When I went there for a second, he said "Jeffrey keeps telling me I'm dumb at summer camp".

The time it takes blood to boil: approximately a nano-second.

His summer camp is supposed to be a "zero tolerance" zone. Now I know that kids will be kids, but I was picked on horribly until highschool and it's the one thing that will make me go mama bear faster then anything else.

I, of course, immediately wanted to find this snot-nosed, weasel.....I mean Jeffrey and have a little conversation with him. Or at least with his mom.

Of course, being an adult of (reasonably) sound mind, I know I can't just approach a child. Instead, I said something to the "teacher" (she actually is a teacher, but they don't really "teach" during summer camp) when I dropped AM off this morning.

She immediately assured me that she would say something to his leaders (also teachers.......they are all teachers, for the most part, since they use this camp to help them get teaching credits......but that's not really the point right now).

AM gets in the car tonight and says "Jeffrey was mean again. When he came into the gym, I said 'hey Jeffrey' and he said 'hi dumb AM'".

Now we've had conversations about who's opinion should matter to us (I tell him to worry about the opinions of nice, caring people.......not some dufus that calls names......yes, I see the irony in that). We've talked about how kids that pick on others are usually trying to divert attention from themselves (embarrass someone else before you can be embarrassed). About how it's rarely "personal", they just pick any handy target.

None of that keeps ME from wanting to swat the child. Or at least suggesting to his mother/father that THEY swat the child.

It's times like these when I am SO thankful that he goes to a small school. Now, mind you, we've had some "issues" with a couple of students there, but it's handled appropriately and quickly.

Some might wonder why I have him in the summer camp. Well, for a few reasons. One, he already had a buddy in this camp and the other child has gone there a couple of years and loved it. Two, AM DOES have fun, once he's not in the gym (which is a short portion of the day......the Jeffrey thing bugs him, but it's not the reason he doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to go because of the noise.). Three, there's only a few more days left and then we'll be done for this summer.

I know, I know. He has to "learn to cope" with the noise and learn to handle wormy kids like Jeffrey, but what parent likes having to watch their kids learn those types of lessons? Especially when that child says "mom, I know I'm supposed to love him because Jesus loves him, so I'll pray for him to have a nicer heart". Talk about ripping my heart out: my tenderhearted (but, thankfully, tougher then his mom) boy just wants to be this kids friend and this twerp is mean to him.

At least AM has the appropriate response (pray for him, love him anyway), which is more then I can say for his mama.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Home Sweet Home

To my legions of adoring fans, I'm back.

*snort* At least one of my fans adores me, but then she's related to me.

We spent the majority of last week in Branson. MotH works with someone that has a house down near the lake (deck overlooks Tablerock) and they generously allow us to stay there free of charge. We usually go down once during the summer and then again around Christmas, although this year the Christmas trip won't happen.

Anyway, this time my parents went with us (first time for them) mostly so I would have someone to keep me company while MotH and AM did their "thing". So "things" were done and fun was had and I spent a good majority of the week reading......which is JUST FINE with me! I rarely get a chance to read uninterrupted.

One of the highlights: members of my immediate family tend to get a little, shall we say, slap happy when we start getting tired. One such incident occurred on Friday night after mom and I declared we would be going into town (we stay out near Silver Dollar City) for dessert and there would be NO arguments. The guys gamely drove us into town (so long as the "game" included a significant amount of grumping about it).

On the way back, mom spotted a sign for some Righteous Brother's show in Branson. Mom and dad launched into "You've Lost that Lovin' Feeling". I joined in. It sounded something like a cat caught in a bear trap and the last, gasping breath of a dying school of seals (flock of seals? Hoard of seals?). I think MotH was scared. Only AM applauded when we were done. Oh, and the reason I know that song: Top Gun.

In gestating news, I am now PREGNANT LONGER THEN I'VE EVER BEEN PREGNANT BEFORE (23 weeks 4 days, for those keeping track). From this point forward, everything is a new experience.

I once had someone tell me I was "lucky" to have skipped the uncomfortable months of pregnancy the first time around (because it's REALLY comfortable to watch your child struggle to survive.....sheesh, that comment ranked really high on the "stupid things people say"-o'meter). Let me just say that I am REALLY looking forward to being more uncomfortable then I've ever been in my life. Just so long as this little one stays put.

Speaking of the "little one", I can now safely announce that it's a BOY! MotH finally broke the news to everyone it needed to be broken to, so I can stop trying to think of generic baby sex terms on my blog. I've always said that I would love to have another boy, so we are thrilled!

AM is super jazzed. As he explained to me "mom, I don't know what to do with a girl". Frankly, son, neither do I.

While I'm on the subject of AM, he will be EIGHT this Friday. Holy. Cow. I wonder if I'll ever stop doing double takes when I look at him. I still can't believe he's the same boy that started life as such a fragile baby. To say I'm constantly overwhelmed by the miracle God worked in him would be a gross understatement.

He's such a delight (most of the time anyway). He is rather protective of me in my "delicate" state (I laugh when I say that because I'm sure the first thing people think when they see me is "oh, she looks so delicate"). The other day I was paying a bill and I guess he thought the lady was being short with me. He looked her in the eye and told her "my mom is growing a new person. You need to take it easy on her". LOL.

Such a character. He may get his looks from his dad, but he gets his abundant charm and sense of humor from his mom ;).

Monday, July 21, 2008

*****NEWS TICKER*****

I *think* I verified this by finding several news articles on the subject. This appears legit. If it's not, there will be a very miffed pregnant woman capable of bodily harm.

Next Wednesday, July 31 The Cheesecake Factory will be selling slices of ALL 30 flavors for just $1.50 a piece.

$1.50 people!!

It is their 30th Anniversary and also happens to be National Cheesecake Day (didn't know there was one, but cheesecake certainly deserves it's own holiday!).

Let's be honest. Do we care WHY?!? It's cheesecake. FOR $1.50.

I just sent an email out with a veiled threat to family and friends. I will reiterate that threat now. If anyone buys the last slice before I can get there, I will roll over you.

Don't think I won't.

Sunday, July 20, 2008


I'm certain this will be wildly unpopular. After all, pregnant women are supposed to glow. They are supposed to wonder at the miracle within. They are supposed to awe at the gift of new life.

Yeah, okay. I'm doing that.

But I have to admit that it's a little weird. Just a bit strange. A smidgen odd to HAVE AN ENTIRE PERSON INSIDE OF ME THAT KEEPS KICKING ME!

I really, really wish I hadn't seen Alien when I was young and impressionable.

Yes, it's cool to feel the baby move. I (lightly) jiggle, even occasionally poke, my belly to encourage such movement.

But it's still weird.

I mean I can SEE my stomach move. WHAT is up with that? Yeah, yeah. There's a baby in there.....but really, can that be normal?

In all honesty, it really is amazing and super cool.

Something can be cool and strange simultaneously, right?

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Lazy Days of Summer

Who are they kidding?!

Does anyone actually KNOW someone that has had EVEN ONE "lazy" day of summer?


Everyone I know is busy running kids to camps, play dates, swimming lessons, vacation Bible school, etc.... That doesn't even INCLUDE family vacations (and all the prep that goes into making THAT happen), picnics, cook-outs............

"Lazy days of summer" must be one of those oxymoronic sayings like "slept like a baby".

Let's see, what else. The octopillow is finally back at Walmart. When the customer service lady asked me the reason for return, I nearly began my rant again. Instead, I took a deep breath and simply said "it's too big for our bed".

Ohohoh!!! My sister found out today that she's having the same "type" of baby that we're having!!!!! Yay!! She is due two weeks after me so our kids will be VERY close in age. We do a LOT with my sis' family. We take family trips (at least once a year), attend the same church and our hubby's are great friends too. In fact, her hubby is currently in my garage with MotH working on his (sis' hubby's) truck.

We love that we get to share so much of our lives with each other........and now our kids will be awesome playmates!!

For the record, the REASON I'm not mentioning the specific "type" is that MotH hasn't told everyone yet. On the off chance that those people read my blog (hello??), I don't want this to be the way they find out.

I'll just say we're tickled pink....or blue (how. mean. am. I?!).

Additional update: I'm currently 21 weeks 5 days (or 22 weeks, if going by the first day of my last cycle). Only one week two days to go until I've passed goal number two (making it to 23 weeks, when AM was born).

Got another shot yesterday. Seem to be doing okay, with the exception of going to bed at 8:45 p.m.

This is a very random post, is it not.

Another bloggeriffic friend mentioned the other day that she got sucked into the world of Facebook. Being the follower I am (not really, but apparently in this situation), I immediately went and signed up too. I even have a few friends!!

Okay, my brain is too pooped to continue this party. 'Night.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Why is it......

that 6am has to feel so early?

that AM gets up at 6am rarin' to go, but only on Saturday, Tuesday and Thursday mornings (when I get a chance to sleep). On days he has someplace to be, I have to drag his sorry self out of bed.

that broccoli can't taste like chocolate, and chocolate like broccoli, so that my body will crave what's good for it?

that I'm the only person that can find the laundry basket when removing my socks? (Anyone else experience the "vanishing person syndrome"? Where it looks like the person wearing the socks just vanished, leaving the socks laying in a puddle on the floor?)

I'm sure there are more, but my brain turned off at around 5:15 p.m. this evening.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Once upon a time.....

in a land far away, lived a beautiful (stunning?) princess named, oh, let's call her Lesley. Why? Because it's a name befitting a ravishing beauty. Deal. With. It.

Lesley was married to a terrible ogre. Not a Shrek-like ogre, but a pretty horrible guy.

The kind of guy that expects her to just SIT THERE AND NOT CARE when the dishes need to be done. The kind of guy that says "I'll do them in the morning" and then expects that the knowledge of said dirty dishes won't drive her COMPLETELYINSANEALLEVENINGLONG!

Like I said, a terrible ogre.

Some people might call Lesley a control freak. Suggest she learn to relax and let other's help while accepting that they will do it at their own pace.

Some people would be WRONG. Just because I like things the way I like them and want them done when I want them done and expect others to ask "HOW HIGH" when I say "jump" DOES! NOT! MAKE! ME! A! CONTROL! FREAK!


Does it?

My patience is wearing thin (duh, say it isn't so!) with my inability to do things. I can't vacuum. Can't mop. Can't lean over and clean the bathtub. Can't carry laundry up and down the stairs (I can still fold and hang things up, though). I can do the dishes, assuming my shot hasn't knocked me out (which was the case the other night).

I know that some people would say "I would love it if someone else did all that stuff for me". Ironically, pre-pregnancy me complained when I felt like I was doing "everything". Now I complain because I can't do it.

We females are confusing creatures (and I'm woman enough to admit that).

The crux of the problem is this: MotH and I aren't on the same page regarding what a clean house looks like. I think bathtubs need to be scrubbed out every week, he thinks once a month is adequate. Every time he mops (about every two weeks.....I was doing it every week, just for the record) he makes a point to show me how little dirt the mop actually picked up. I presume this is to show me I'm "wrong" in my assertion that it needs to be done every week.

Since I'm basically powerless to do anything, I pretty much have to suck it up.

I'm not so great at that, as it turns out.

Okay, all kidding (and complaining) aside, MotH is doing a fantastic job picking up what I can't do. My frustration is not with him, my frustration is with my feelings of uselessness. Yes, yes, I know I'm doing something very important, but I can't help but think of all the women that squatted in a cotton field, delivered a child and went right back to picking cotton.

I can't even WASH my cotton.

Monday, July 07, 2008

Sleeping with an octopus

It seemed like such a fine idea at the time.

See I like to FEEL like I'm sleeping on my back, so having a body pillow behind me (so that I can lean against it) is pleasant. By leaning against the body pillow, I can trick my body into believing I'm really on my back whilst remaining safely in the pregnancy-preferred leftward sleeping pose.

Unfortunately, in my effort to find back-leaning comfort, I lose the body pillow in FRONT of me, which I find to not only be pleasant, but wholly necessary. (I only have one body pillow, if you're following along.)

Eureka! I found the solution! It's a pregnancy body pillow that wraps AROUND the entire body. Body pillow in front, body pillow in back, "U" shaped part between the knees and a floppy, extra-long end that is to be used as a "standard" pillow. A Jack-of-all-trades pillow, as it were.

Last night, MotH dutifully marched off to Walmart to pick up my new pillow, the "All Nighter". I decided on the "full body comfort" option (it comes with multiple positioning suggestions). It seemed a wise decision. If going for comfort, it simply makes sense to go for FULL BODY comfort. Am I wrong?

This thing was an "All Nighter", all right. I fought with the thing ALL. NIGHT. LONG (okay, not ALL night, as you'll soon see).

First, I wrapped the long, trailing end around to turn it into my "standard" pillow (imagine me laying within a giant, white oval). Within moments, my neck hurt. No big deal, right? I just flopped the long end up and used my normal pillow.

Then, I decided I wanted to turn over. This is where it got really tricky. See, this pillow basically looks like a huge candy cane. The "U" is between the knees purportedly to help alleviate hip pain. That means one leg is under the "U" and one is above, making it impossible just to turn over.

I had to extricate the leg under the pillow, lay it on top with the other (free) leg, turn over, stick my previously free leg back under the "U" and then wriggle and writhe to regain a degree of comfort.

As I lay there panting and sweaty hot, it began to dawn on me that this may not be the miracle pillow I had hoped it would be.

Ever the optimist, I gamely tried the other side (after performing the extricate-flip-retricate....yes, I know that's not a

My hips began to hurt. Yes, the "U" shape between my knees, the very one meant to alleviate hip pain, was causing MY hips to hurt.

On and on this went.

Getting out of bed to go potty was an event. Perhaps it sounds dramatic to call something as simple as a midnight potty run an "event", but trust me, it was. I had to lift the long, floppy end up and over, much like a floppy toll booth gate, get my legs pulled free of their manacle then reverse the entire routine once I was done with my business.

Finally, at 2am, I'd HAD IT. I grabbed the thing and dragged it across the floor, trailing it's white tentacles across my bedroom, to the closet and dumped it inside.

At this point, I heard MotH start to chuckle. "Don't you like your new pillow?", he asked. "The stupid thing is like an evil octopus", I replied. "You just move around too much", he explained.

He's lucky I was so worn out from wrestling the dang thing!

Saturday, July 05, 2008

20 Weeks!

I made it past milestone number one!!!

I am now 20 weeks pregnant. I'm past my first milestone of 19 weeks 6 days!

I am over halfway there! They will induce me once I'm full-term (around 37 weeks) to try and ensure an infection-free delivery.

Milestone number two is next. 23 weeks.

Friday, July 04, 2008

Happy 4th of July

God Bless America.......Land That I Love.

My Home Sweet Home.

Thursday, July 03, 2008

Update Number II

Yep, another clever title.

24 more hours to go before I've met my first "goal". Actually, if you go by the first day of my last menstrual cycle, I was actually 20 weeks yesterday, beating my first goal.

However, since we all bow at the alter of the ultrasound, and it INSISTS that my due date is November 22, we've tossed the "first day" out with the bath water and are instead figuring my weeks by my due date.

Huh? Translation: I'm not 20 weeks until Saturday, at least as far as my doctor is concerned.

So.......I was at the doctor's office yesterday and had to see "that" doctor. You know. The one I freaked out on when I had a BV infection a couple of months ago when my doc was out-of-town.

Guess what. I have another BV infection and my doctor is out-of-town.

I went in for my regular culture (the one they send out) and asked them to also look at a sample under the microscope in the office. I was unwilling to wait until next week to find out the results of my send-out culture, since the office is closing early for the 4th.

Good thing I asked because that's how he discovered the infection. Again, no symptoms. I know I couldn't have had it for more then two weeks, because my last culture was normal (and that was two weeks ago). He said that it was still "up high" and that I probably wouldn't have noticed anything yet (irritation, etc...), but failed to tell me if that meant it was a "new" infection or one that had been around for a while.

Did I mention that I was infected at this EXACT same point in my last pregnancy?

I know, I know. Just because I'm infected now doesn't mean I'll have the same outcome. I just wanted this to be a "smooth" week, ya' know? Plus, I want to be able to bend over without fear (I was bent down unplugging a fan when my water broke last time).

I got shot #3 yesterday and complained about the side effects. To say that this doctor dismissed them is an understatement (my sis' main complaint about him is that he doesn't seem to listen very well). I'm eager to see MY doctor next time!

So far I'm not feeling terribly unstable. We shall see how the rest of the day goes. We're supposed to have company for the 4th tomorrow and if day 2 is like my LAST day 2, it could prove to be an interesting day. Good thing it's just family!

Sunday, June 29, 2008


I tried to think of a clever title. Obviously that didn't work out.

Anywho, I'm feeling much better. I'm still having intestinal "quakes" off-and-on. I still get very tired (comes on without warning). However, I am MUCH MUCH improved over earlier in the week.

Praise God!!! I really don't want to be forced to decide between the shots and being sick all the time.

Moving on.

I am 19 weeks and 1 day today. This is significant to me because this week moves me towards milestone # 1.

When I was pregnant with the twins, my water broke at 19 weeks 6 days. I fibbed when they checked me into the hospital and said 20 weeks. In my head, I needed to be 20 weeks for them to admit me (don't ask why. Nobody ever said that to me.).

Assuming I make it past Friday, I'll have made it past my first "goal". There is no reason to believe that I won't make it well past Friday, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't holding my breath justalittle this week.

In non-pregnancy-related news, I got a "free" day today and how did I spend it? Wishing I wasn't "free", lol.

The boys (meaning MotH and AM) went down to MotH's dad's farm to spend the day doing boy things: fishing, 4-wheeling, playing with remote control cars. Normally, when I'm not pregnant and hormonal, I LOVE the quiet day this gives me. I can do what I want. Shop. Read. Nap. Kansas City is my oyster.

I know I SHOULD be loving this. After all, in a few more months I will have a new baby in the house and it will be years before I get these days again. Unfortunately, in my hormonal craziness, I don't care to be alone.

I was supposed to spend the day with my sis, but she wasn't feeling well his morning. Tried to call my parents to see if they were interested in entertaining me, but they were busy with my grandfather all day.

So I went to church, ran a couple of errands and took a nap. I know that SOUNDS like a dream day, but I'm lonely. I had hoped to spend the day reading the last book in a series I've been reading, but I couldn't find the book anywhere and I have a hard time wasting $10 on gas just to find a book.

Feeling sorry for me yet? LOL

That is all for now. Buh bye.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

P17 = devil in a syringe?

This will be short. I should add a disclaimer: I'm not sure if this entry will make sense.

Today was worse then yesterday. I can handle the emotional crisis (not asking MotH for his vote). I can handle the stomach cramps I'm getting (I got the same thing from the progesterone I took 1st trimester, only this stuff is a lot stronger, thus more cramps). I can even handle how hot I am.

I'm not sure I can handle how tired I am. This is worse then when AM came home from the hospital and was up from 10pm-5am'ish every night for months.

I actually feel slightly drunk (I have a past, so I do know what that feels like). I'm not sure when I talk if what I'm saying makes any sense. It's hard to focus on anything (like a book or my laptop). I lay down, but can't sleep (during the day.......I've been sleeping okay at night, although that doesn't seem to help the sleepiness during the day).

*sigh* What I wouldn't give to be able to suck down some coffee during the day.

I called the doctor's office today (I had to go home from work after only three hours, it was so bad......I'm lucky I made it home driving!) to see if this is "normal" and if it gets better. The answer "some women" have these symptoms and they only sometimes get better over time.

Please, God, let me be one of the few.

I'm not being a very good mom (grumpy exhaustion will do that), so I feel intense mommy guilt over that.

I know it's temporary. I know WHY I'm doing this. I just hope that those around me understand why I'm doing this, though judging by some of the comments I got this morning, some don't.

I'm going to try and start getting the shots towards the end of the week in hopes that days 1 & 2 will end up being the worst (and I can endure them over the weekend, when MotH is home all day). Please, let it gradually get better as the week goes on!

Only 17 more to go.

Oh, and sorry. This wasn't as short as I anticipated.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

It's official: I'm certifiable

I created a post many a moon ago about taking progesterone in my first trimester. I believe I used the words "holy progesterone, batman" and said it was irritating.

I knew not what I spoke of.

I started P17 shots last week (hydroxprogesterone, for the pharmaceutical nuts among my three fans). These shots have been shown to significantly reduce the risk of preterm labor, so they are an obvious choice for me.

Never could I have imagined the purgatory (and I'm not Catholic) I currently find myself in.

First, the shot itself. Being the good little (har) Google girl that I am, I dutifully researched this drug prior to the administration of my first shot.

Totally freaked myself out!?!

Site after site I found women moaning about the pain. The size of the needle. That knots left under the skin. On and on and on it went until I was quite certain I would require a brown paper bag while waiting for the nurse to bring mine in the room (to breathe into).

Have I mentioned I'm scared of needles? Yes, I realize I've been stuck with more then my fair share, but the fear is still there. Deal.

Quick flashback. Eight years ago when I was in the hospital after my water broke, they began to talk about a betamethosone shot I would receive to help mature AM's lungs. Each EXTREMELY HELPFUL person that came in my room told me "the shot is very painful, because it's packed in oil and they have to use a big needle".

By the time the day arrived for my first shot (and what ended up being my last shot....delivered before I got the second), I was wholly terrified. I vividly remember wrapping my body around several pillows (for many pillows are a pregnant woman's best friend) and, uh, not exactly cooperating.

The nurse started to reassure me "oh, it's not that bad. You'll be just fine." Uh, uh sister. All your little sadistic friends told me how bad this shot was. Too late to back track now.

I had the shot and it wasn't horrible.

Back to modern day. THIS shot is also packed in oil and while I had my previous experience under my belt (proving it to be less horrifying then promised), I was still apprehensive.

Long story short. I didn't have to hug any pillows (there weren't any) and I didn't scream or cry or otherwise make a food of myself. I didn't even FEEL the first shot. The second one stung a little, but nothing unbearable.

Piece. oh. cake, thought I. Right?

Holy laughter ensued and God looked down at my naivety.

Last week I skated through the days following "the shot". Until about day five.

What happened on day five, you ask.

On day five, I found myself crying over my kitchen sink. I couldn't tell you the reason now, nor could I have told you the reason then.

Day six brought another crying jag after the cat, yes the cat, bit me. He was playing with MotH and nipped my arm. Barely left the smallest of dents. I cried like he'd broken my heart.

The cat.

This past Monday (a.k.a. yesterday) brought shot number two. I'm an old pro now, right, so I know what to expect this time.

Joke's on me. Again. (If only I were capable of laughing right now.)

I'm not going to lie to you. This one burned a little. The nurse asked "are you okay". Well, other then the needle stuck in my BUTTOCK......."I'm fine", I say.

I left thinking "okay, that one hurt a little more then last time, but it's alright. I'm a tough cookie. Ain't gonna bring ME down."

Plus I have at least five more days before the irrational crying starts, right?

(There's a theme here and I'll give you a hint. When I say "right", you can be certain I'm about to prove how wrong I am. Oh the irony.)

Woke up this morning to a rather sore fanny. It got progressively worse. But that's not the super fun part. No, the SUPER FUN (!) part was when I grossly overreacted on the phone with MotH. Even funner (is that a word?)? Actually started to tear up BECAUSE MY CAR NEEDED GAS!

And tired. Oh my gosh, I don't think I've ever been this tired. This makes the first trimester (and, okay, the second trimester) sleepiness look like........ I don't know but something not very tired. Maybe someone after a Starbucks binger (assuming one could afford a Starbucks binger).

I think my fingernails actually fell asleep I was so tired. I know I couldn't think of the word for "table" and ended up calling it the "flat thing we eat off of", which earned me a sideways glance from MotH.

At one time my tongue was so heavy with fatigue that I could barely speak. Breathing took more effort then I felt I had left to give.

This was by 3pm this afternoon.

So now it's 8:41 p.m. and I'm blogging.

My butt still hurts (both sides right now, thanks to sciatic nerve pain on the non-shot side).

I'm emotionally unstable.

MotH is hiding in the garage (see preceding point for the reason he finds it necessary to hide).

All of this is sooooo worth it if it gets me closer to full-term. I know that and I believe that.

I just wish I got to enjoy this a little more.

Oh, I should mention that I will get these delightful little doses of oil-based goodness every week until I'm at or near full-term.

Let the good times roll. Just don't roll too close to me or I might cry.