Moody

You know how sometimes you'll be walking through a store or a restaurant or something with your child, and some kindly older person will insist on pinching your kid's cheeks or patting their head? This I can actually take. But the worst is when they look up at you with those watery, earnest eyes and instruct urgently, "Remember these times! Cherish them! They fly by so quickly..." And they will be so sincere and so insistent that you just know they must either be suffering from mild dementia, or have never actually lived with a young child themselves. Otherwise, how to explain it?
Whenever I see another mother of a toddler, I feel empathy for her first and foremost, not a burning desire to go remind her that these formative years are crucial and that she must not for one second forget it! If anything, I would approach her slowly so as not to startle her, offer a caffeinated beverage, and say, "Boy, it's a good thing they're so cute, huh? 'Cause otherwise, we might as well be the wardens at some zoo and actually get paid."
Hmm, is it obvious that it's been one of those days? I can't even remember all the actual irritants that have driven me to this point, I just know that at the moment I am unspeakably tired, have heartburn and a headache, and am sore all over from literally wrestling with a twenty-three pound will of iron all morning.
I suppose we screwed her schedule up big time yesterday by trying to attend a graduation ceremony during what should have been her naptime. And believe me, I paid dearly for it. But I figured after her long late afternoon nap and then a good night's sleep that she would be back to normal. Not so. She woke up this morning all fiery, jumping out of bed and running to the door before I could even give her a good morning kiss or change her diaper.
She crashed around the house for awhile, then I finally got her in her seat for breakfast. Which was Cheez-Its, the only box in the cupboard that received anything but a violent shake of the head when offered. Then we went for a morning walk, which was actually fine except for the stupid dog, who insists on marking his territory every five steps. But it was a bit of an ordeal just to get both of us dressed and out the door, me with my knee brace on and cell phone in my pocket, and her with her sippy cup and bowl of crackers and toy, and the dog with his leash, and then I had to get the stroller out of the garage and... So on. There's so much more motivation to go for a walk if all you have to do is put on your shoes and go.
So anyways, we got back to the house around nine thirty, the dog in a frenzy from all the neighborhood dogs and squirrels. I was all itchy and annoyed from the knee brace, and also I of course had a pounding headache, my new constant companion whenever I'm doing anything but lying down. As soon as I get out of bed in the morning it starts, sharp in my temples, and continues on and off all day. Tylenol doesn't really help, nor does extra water or any of the usual remedies other than lying in a dark room sleeping.
After about an hour of trying to make it go away on the couch while Addy ran around the house and played, I finally gave up and put her in her room with the monitor on, then went to my own room to lie down for awhile in the silence. It was blissful... For about five minutes, and then I heard a bang and a second later a wail. I jumped up, sending the headache into full gear again, and ran to see what was wrong. I couldn't tell what had happened, but Addy stood pitifully in the middle of the room, her lip trembling. I assume she had dropped a toy or something, who knows. I scooped her up, as she was still whimpering, and carried her to my room with me. She cuddled in bed and drank her milk while I rested for a few minutes, but then got bored and began to play with the portable DVD player which I have set up next to my side of the bed.
I was in that foggy, all-I-want-is-sleep phase by now, and I could hear her pushing buttons but lacked the will to do anything about it. Finally, she of course stopped the movie that was playing, and then got all frustrated and began hitting buttons like a maniac and yelping angrily. So I had to drag myself up again, turn the whole thing off, and literally carry her, kicking and screaming, out of the room.
I decided maybe lunch would help, or at least a snack. I put some tater tots in the oven, then put her in her play yard with a granola bar and some milk while I checked my email. This went okay, although lots of that granola bar went to the dog. But when I tried to serve lunch!! You would have thought I was serving up a nice bowl of anthrax. I tried to give it to her at the table, then in her play yard, then at the table again. I actually couldn't even get her into the seat, she was yelling and twisting so violently.
I thought I might be losing it, what with the headache and the tired and the heartburn, which had begun as soon as I took a bite of my own tater tots. "Ni-night time?" I finally suggested brightly, and probably a little crazily. "You need a ba-ba and a ni-night?"
Apparently so, although I had to carry her kicking and screaming to her bed because I cruelly refused to let her pull ALL the bottles, sippy cups, and lids out of the drawer to take to bed with her. But when I finally got her into the bed and the bottle hit her mouth, she was done for, and fell asleep almost instantly. Thank God.
I'm pretty sure somebody else wrote about this recently, too, but it always amazes and ashames me how much my perception of Addy's behavior is colored by my own mood. If I'm feeling well and have energy, I can pretty much cope with whatever she throws my way and not get bent out of shape. If I'm tired and cranky and hot and have heartburn, the slightest deviation from her normal, happy self confounds me and sends me into an irritable frenzy. Well, maybe not a frenzy. But I definitely don't think clearly and positively. I am not Nanny Jo. My voice starts to sound sharp and naggy and ragged, and I can feel my forehead knotting into a permanent furrow. I get frazzled and want to call time-out so I can go take a nap and escape from the situation. This makes me feel weak and selfish, for not being a better grown-up. I mean, if the kid's in a bad mood and the mom's in a bad mood, somebody has to step back, right? Take one for the team, suck it up, etc. And I'm thinking it's supposed to be the adult.
At least she's taking a nap, now, so I can just hit publish and then go to take one, too. I will contemplate being a better, happier mom just as soon as I wake up...

Henry Is Here!

Oh, oh, my heart! I'm dying of the sweetness! I can smell the newborn smell! Because Swistle's baby is here! Right here! Look at that lip pucker... He's like a gorgeous little doll.
Congratulations, Swistle!

The Best Birth Control Advocate Ever

So you know that new movie out, Knocked Up? Totally hilarious, but let me just warn you now: If you are going to be giving birth relatively soon, or, you know, EVER, maybe be prepared to cover your eyes and ears towards the end. 'Cause HOLY CRAP! I actually didn't view my own child's birth in as graphic of detail as this actress's pretend birthing scene was shown to me on the big screen last night. There was your usual yelling and cursing and writhing in pain and all that, but there was also a pleasant moment in which the baby's heart rate drops and the OB shoves his hand between the girl's legs and digs around quite deeply for awhile while she cringes in pain. Afterward he explains ever so coolly that the cord was wrapped around the baby's neck and he was just "loosening" it. Um, okay...
And then there's the actual birth, which features the actress, who has foregone drugs, shrieking, "Oh my God, I feel everything, I feel EVERYTHING!" I was literally squirming in my seat, remembering that distinct and panicked sensation of HEAD!, and realizing afresh what is in my not-too-distant future. Then, before I could calm down and remember that I was watching fiction, there appeared, not once but three times, the lovely image of a real woman's vagina with a baby's head crowning through it! Gaaaaa!!! I didn't even ask for a mirror when I was giving birth because I was slightly afraid that the grossness of what was happening to my girly bits would distract me from the actual miracle at hand. So what happens? A year and a half later, I get to see what happened to my girly bits via the magic of cinema!
I still thought the movie was fun, though- definitely not one for the kiddies, however. Although, maybe go ahead and encourage your teenagers to attend, preferably with their current romantic interest. I can almost guarantee you that there will be no premarital sex happening for at least a few days after the viewing of that movie! In fact, as we were leaving, I noticed there were still a few shell-shocked adolescents who remained frozen to their seats, valiantly avoiding eye contact with one another. Ah, young love...

Hot Mama

You know that slogan for Motherhood Maternity? "Motherhood. It's hot!" It sure is. Hot as in, retaining about ten pounds of water yet still somehow peeing every hour on the hour, having a face as round and swollen as a balloon, calves the size of an elephant's, and galumphing around in a near-constant state of clammy sweat due to the ninety degree weather. It's hot as in, hair that's frizzing up uncontrollably, partly due to the heat and partly because I no longer have the will to try to tame it with anything but a rubber band. And nothing is so hot as getting heartburn every time I eat ANYTHING and then make the mistake of lying down afterwards. Hot is taking a quick shower and then feeling weak and nauseous afterwards and needing to lie down and drink a glass of water.
Heidi Klum I am not. My hair is not sleek and my face is puffy and un-made-up and beginning to break out from the humidity. I am dressed in shorts and T-shirts which are inevitably grubby by the time Jim gets home. I am somewhat tan from my few ventures outdoors recently, the one silver lining of all this sudden summer. At least I tan easily. But overall, I feel as sexy and hot and stylish as, say, a beached whale, slowly and miserably dying in the sun. I can't believe I still have at least two and maybe three more months of this.
But I am grateful that I am still pregnant and with no pre-term labor signs yet other than a few random Braxton-Hicks. A girl Jim works with just had a baby very early- it weighed around two pounds, I think. That must be incredibly hard and stressful to have to deal with visiting a newborn in the hospital and pumping breast milk and worrying constantly while also recovering from birth yourself. My prayers are with her and her family.
And so, even as I am miserable and sweaty and so SICK of being pregnant today, I am also very grateful that this little guy is still safely ensconced in my belly, even if he (and my intestines) are getting more and more cramped every day! You just stay put for now, little one. Maybe get off my bladder, though.

More About Worrying Later

I worry that the kids will kill themselves skateboarding, and I worry that they'll never try skateboarding because they'll be too worried. I worry that if I stop worrying then my children won't be safe — that my worry actually, magically keeps them safe — and then I worry that it's my very worrying that will pull danger towards us.
Catherine Newman ended her column this week by admitting the above. Few things I've ever read have rung truer in my brain than these sentences. It's such contradictory and frankly crazy thinking, but these two thoughts- I MUST worry! and also, alternately, My worry will jinx us and lead to tragedy!- are always somewhere in the back of my mind. Anyone else?
(I have a whole post about worry and kids, but Addy's waking up right now and I don't have time today. Later, I will obsess some more about it, I promise!)

The Best Thing Since Sliced Bread and Disposable Diapers!

Today we embarked on a two and a half hour car trip to Michigan, and what do you know, that portable DVD player is worth its weight in gold! That was the best, quietest road trip we've had with Addy since she was a year old and decided that her carseat was the enemy. True, we had to listen to the sounds of Veggie Tales and Baby Einstein, which numb you out to adult conversation in the same eerie manner that they do at home, but it was a small price to pay to also have the blessed sound of silence from the carseat.
I definitely recommend the purchase of one of these bad boys to anyone with small children who may have to drive further than a half hour at any point in the near future. Especially if you only have ONE kid who has no one else in the backseat to entertain her, or if you have multiple children who do NOT entertain each other but only antagonize each other. Either situation is ideal for portable digital entertainment! Two thumbs up!
Side note: If child/children in backseat eventually fall asleep, portable digital entertainment is also not too shabby for the passenger in the front seat. So see that you bring suitable media for adult riders as well as your stash of sing-a-longs for the kids.
Unfortunately, I have no real brand recommendation to offer. I couldn't even tell you off the top of my head which ours is. I just know that the concept and product in general is excellent. Overpriced, yes, but excellent, and in ten years I bet those suckers will be as commonplace as cell phones. No minivan will come equipped without one! The only potential problem I could see is if you had a wide range of ages in one backseat, and the ten year old was threatening to leap out the car window if they had to sit through a Sesame Street movie one more time just to keep the toddler happy. Or vice versa. You probably wouldn't want the kindergartner watching some PG-13 fare which the teenagers had brought along. Definitely a conundrum there, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it!

The Circle

Every day at least once or twice, I find myself beginning one little chore, like, say, returning Addy's shoes to her room, and end up wearing a path around the circular layout of our house, picking up first one thing, then another. Here's how it will happen: "I'm going to bed," I'll say, around ten. I pick up my water glass or empty cereal bowl or whatever I have out and take it to the sink. While there, I'll see that there are just a few other things in the sink as well, so I'll load them in the dishwasher and start it up. Then I'll notice a spot of jelly or something on the counter, so I'll just wipe that up, and then go ahead and wipe the other counters, too, while I'm at it.
Then I'll decide that the washcloth has about had it, so I'll head to the laundry room to throw it in the dirty basket. Whereupon I will realize that I threw a load in the wash three hours ago and never put it in the dryer. So I'll hurry up and get the dryer started before the wet clothes start to reek of mildew. And when I turn around to leave, I'll trip over some random blocks or toys, so I'll gather those up and pile them outside Addy's door.
There I will finally make my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed, but while there I will notice that at some point Addy has pulled all my lotions out of the drawer for the hundredth time that day and arranged them carefully in the bathtub, so I'll have to stop and put those away before getting down to actual bedtime preparation. At last I head for my bedroom, but when I get there I will realize there is a basket of clean clothes on the bed that needs to be put away. I'll do that, and then return the basket to the laundry room. Then I'll realize I'm thirsty, and decide to head back to the kitchen for a glass of water.
There I will spot an ant on my clean counters and kill it with a napkin. I'll throw the napkin away, and realize that the trash bag is full. I'll tie off the bag, take it to the garage, and then put in a clean bag. Then I'll get the water I came for, and actually go to bed. Maybe. Assuming I don't spot an empty Popsicle wrapper in the living room or a half-full sippy cup lying in the playpen. Then it's back to the gauntlet!

Putting Out Fires

Why do annoying little mishaps seem to happen in groups? It can't just be, "Oh look! Addy has figured out how to open her dresser drawers and throw every item of clothing onto the floor while I'm not looking!" 'Cause if it was just that and nothing else AFTER that, then the original incident would be kind of cute, maybe, and certainly only minorly frustrating. But to have it immediately followed by Addy dumping her bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch all over the couch, before I had even gotten around to cleaning up the empty-dresser mess, made both things seem neither cute nor minor. And then, to take Addy off to have a bath in order to remove the coating of sugar and cinnamon from every square inch of her body, and have her pee all over her bedroom rug before I could get a clean diaper on her, then freak out and run in circles wailing about the pee running down her leg... Well, that didn't make it better.
I was getting truly irritable, and the only way I could maintain my Mommy cool was to think in steps, and not think beyond the step I was on. First, wipe pee off child and put on a diaper. Second, clean pee out of rug before it sets in. Third, dress kid and get her set up with a movie so I can proceed to steps four and five, cleaning up cereal on couch and cleaning up clothes off of floor. So I was happy that I came out of all these minor setbacks to my schedule without having a major meltdown. But I was not happy about the way that my morning seemed to have literally disappeared without my doing one single thing on my actual to-do list.

A Grooming Habits Meme!

Except actually, I want ALL of you to reply to it, so while I'm going to tag a few bloggers who I think would enjoy doing this one, I still want comments, too! If you want, just choose a particular question about which you have something to say, and don't feel obligated to answer every single one.
I wanted to do this questionnaire because I was thinking lately about how much my definition of "getting ready" for the day has changed since becoming a mother! This meme covers things from makeup to leg waxing to how much money you spend on yourself, now vs. pre-children. Here goes:

1. On average, how much time would you estimate that you spend on your daily grooming routines, from brushing teeth to showering to any sort of hair/makeup fixing?
I would guess roughly forty-five minutes, when I average in the days I actually take time to blow dry and put on makeup and stuff. Most days, though, it's probably more like twenty minutes.

2. How much time did you spend before having kids on grooming habits?
At least an hour. Some days more.

3. Do you wear makeup every day?
No... I definitely used to, but since Addy came along, priorities have shifted!

4. If you do the makeup thing, do you buy the expensive stuff (department store, Sephora, etc.) or do you head for the cosmetics aisle at the drugstore?
When I was in high school, I used to spend probably half my paycheck on makeup and facial products at Clinique, but now I am strictly drugstore!

5. Do you have a "mom" hairstyle which you fall back on routinely?
I cut my hair really short while I was pregnant with Addy, so that I never had to dry or style it, but it has since grown past my shoulders, so now my usual hairdo is a ponytail. Oftentimes a WET ponytail.

6. How often do you get your hair cut? Do you get any coloring/highlights done?
I am very sporadic about haircuts- maybe every six months. I used to get blond highlights, but my hair grows so ridiculously fast that my roots are showing in a week, so I no longer bother with that.

7. Do you use salon products on your hair regularly, or ever?
I've bought a few things in the past, but definitely not on a regular basis.

8. Do you shave your legs every day? If not, how often?
I probably shave every three days. Sometimes less than that, if it's winter. And I have dark leg hair, so I should probably be an every day-er, but it takes too long!

9. Do you routinely get treatments like waxing, brow shaping, manicures, pedicures, or massages?
No, just once or twice a year, when I get gift certificates for massages.

10. Did you USED to do any of the above routinely?
I used to get massages once a month. I really do miss it, but between paying for the actual service and hiring a sitter to watch Addy, I can't really afford to anymore.

11. Are you loyal to any particular brand of skin care, hair product, or makeup? If so, do you feel it's truly worth it and makes a difference in your appearance?
I am a big product junkie- I love trying new stuff. I could stand in the toiletries aisles of the drugstore forever choosing the perfect face wash or scrub or whatever. The only thing I always have on hand is St. Ives Apricot Scrub, or the store generic of it. And in the summer, I always use Clean and Clear's Dual Action moisturizer- it's the only thing I've ever tried that keeps me from breaking out but never makes my skin feel dry. And lately, I have become a convert of Dove hair products. I think I will stick with it from now on. It really smells amazing, I think, and the scent kind of lingers all day, almost like a light, clean perfume.

12. On average per month, adding in the cost for everything from body wash to razors to hair cuts to new mascara, how much would you guess you spend on your own personal care and keeping? Did it used to be more?
I would estimate between forty and fifty dollars, all things included. And yes, it definitely used to be more!

Okay, I tag Jennifer at Playgroups Are No Place For Children and Shauna at Pass The Chocolate!

This Is What Gives Us A Bad Name!

"Heavenly Father, we pray that this one who needs this divine help will write their needs on page two of this letter and will place this blessed, biblical, Acts 19:11,12 Handkerchief and this sealed Bible prophecy under their side of the bed as they sleep tonight.
"Let Thy power from heaven descend upon this home tonight and tomorrow night, after this one has mailed their most pressing needs back to this 56-year-old church ministry. We pray that they will break open this sealed prophecy after sunset tomorrow. Amen."
So read the back side of an envelope addressed to "Someone connected to this residence." (All bolding and italicizing is as per the original copy.) The front side of the envelope announced, "God's Holy Spirit instructed us to loan you this to start turning things around for you. So, here it is."
Within was further bizarro talk about this amazing, "fifty-six year-old" church ministry (the name of the ministry is never mentioned) which claims that if I only write my needs on this paper handkerchief they have so thoughtfully sent to me, bless it with prayer, and then tuck it under my pillow, that God, like some sort of grown-up Tooth Fairy, will pay special attention to my particular requests. It was truly mystifying. They kept siting this one random Scripture reference which included the words "apron," "handkerchief," and "miracle," claiming it as a direct command to their church's elders to bless and then send out these paper handkerchiefs, thereby in effect offering miraculous prayer-answering power to the world.
The envelope also included a "sealed prophecy," but cautioned me not to open it until the following morning, and then only after having slept upon my prayer-soaked handkerchief. If I dared to scorn the handkerchief, or had an unbelieving spirit, I was instructed to destroy the prophecy still sealed, as it was "of a spiritual nature." Implicit in this command was the sense that I was risking a bolt of lightning to the head if I tempted fate by prematurely tearing into my own personal prophecy!
I immediately did so, of course, all devil-may-care, and found within the most generic "personal" prophecy ever. The statement above the prophecy demanded, "Tell us if this is not you!" And then went on to ask, "Are you facing big decisions? Do you sometimes feel there is a greater purpose for your life than you have yet discovered?"
Come on- who DOESN"T that describe? What kind of a loser would I be if there were literally NO decisions facing me, and I didn't feel there was some sort of purpose I had yet to fulfill? "No, nameless fifty-six-year-old church ministry of handkerchiefs and prophecies, I am CAREFREE right now! Absolutely zero choices facing me, not even what to wear today! And as for unfulfilled purpose? Nah... I'm good! In fact, I plan on living the remainder of my life on this couch eating breakfast cereal out of the box and watching Nick At Night, that's how confident I am that there is literally nothing left that I am meant to do!"
Sadly disappointed in my prophetic destiny, I tossed the papers aside. But then I glanced again and read that, after writing a prayer request on the handkerchief and then, of course, LITERALLY sleeping on said request, I am to send the handkerchief back and I will receive a FREE SPIRITUAL GIFT which will greatly enrich my life! I might just have to do that... I can only imagine what greater mysteries of faith this fifty-six year-old church ministry has to unlock for me!

It Takes A Village

I really, really do not know what I would be doing right now if we didn't have helpful relatives around. And also a husband with a flexible job. This week alone, I have had four, count 'em, FOUR medical appointments. Tuesday, dentist at eleven and physical therapy at three thirty. Today, OB appointment at eleven, physical therapy at three. I have left Addy with my sister in law twice, as I wisely planned these events around the days she works from home, this morning Jim stayed home to watch her, and Tuesday my little sister came over right after school and before her evening job to stay with Addy. This is how it works. Some people have nannies. I shamelessly beg favors of my relatives. Thank you, everyone!
Also... I got to thinking today (at my twenty four week appointment) about how, assuming this baby decides to follow his big sister's example and pop out around thirty six weeks, I have approximately twelve weeks until child number two arrives. Also figuring in that I have about a fifty percent chance of going into preterm labor and needing to be on bedrest again like last time, this actually only leaves me EIGHT weeks to prepare!! EIGHT!! That is not such a long time, my friends, not such a long time at all. I actually felt my heart speed up a little when this fact dawned on me. How has time flown so fast?
At least we have Addy's new room all put together. Jim assembled her bed late last night, I moved her clothes and diapers and stuff in this afternoon, and she both took a nap in her bed and is currently asleep for the night on it. Sure, it took ten minutes of back patting and soothing talk, and then another two or three minutes of standing outside the door with a tight chest listening to her scream hysterically and bang on the door, but... Suddenly the screaming stopped as she gave up, climbed back into bed, and calmly resumed drinking her water. Just like that.
Only hitch in this new arrangement is that her room is now sharing a wall with the bathroom. Which means I have had to pee for about two hours now but am still holding it, in fear that the flush of the toilet is going to wake her up, and then I will be repeating tonight's earlier bedtime episode, but with extra, drawn out emotional trauma. I may just go out with the dog before bed and pee on a tree for tonight. Really don't want to rock the boat.

I'm Still Here

Dear blogger friends, I am sorry I have fallen off the wagon. In the interest of hosting Mother's Day cook-outs and going to the dentist and physical therapy and keeping up on laundry and switching Adelay from the nursery to her new bedroom, I have been one sorry slacker with the posting and commenting lately. I offer my apologies, and I am trying to catch up on everyone's posts.
I have many things to mention, so today's post is going to be completely unthemed, just a list, in the order that they pop into my head, of all the things I've been wanting to tell you guys lately.

1. I made a traditional English trifle for Mother's Day, complete with sweet, ripe strawberries, sherry-soaked pound cake, and REAL whipped cream which I WHIPPED MYSELF. And it was fantastic, it truly was. I have decided that though I am not such a successful baker, perhaps the secret for me is no-bake desserts. From now on I will stick to recipes with ingredients which need only to be whipped and layered and soaked in dessert liqueurs!

2. My friend Renee got me Season 10 of Friends as a surprise, for-no-reason present, and it may be my most favorite gift ever. First there was the unexpectedness, which always heightens the pleasure and the niceness of a gift, in my opinion, and then there was the perfectness of it, because I was really getting sick of the seasons I had. All friends and romantic partners of bored pregnant women, take note! TV series make excellent gifts. Because while we enjoy chocolate, we are prone to heartburn, and while flowers are lovely, they die. We cannot drink your wine, we cannot even drink your coffee, and our attention span is that of a toddler right now, so books longer than a magazine article are pretty much out, too. But episode after episode of a twenty-two minute long sitcom? This is the gift that keeps on giving.

3. If you happen to buy a so-so brownie mix, and it comes out tasting a little too floury, a little too dull, and not rich enough at all... Well. Drizzling copious amounts of chocolate and caramel sauce over the top of it while it is still warm and allowing it to soak all the way through the cake is a not too shabby way to jazz that pan of brownies right up!

4. Saturday night, Jim painted Addy's playroom, soon to be her bedroom/playroom, a brighter shade of yellow. Before which, I spackled the thirty or so nail holes and toy dents which were ruining the otherwise acceptable coat of paint currently on the walls. I LOVE seeing a fresh coat of paint. And I really love that I didn't have to DO any of the actual taping or painting or cleaning up. This was an excellent Mother's Day gift. And now I feel like we're really doing the big stuff to prepare for the new baby. One room down, one to go!

5. Addy's new toddler bed (take two!) arrived Monday evening, and it was actually the RIGHT bed in the RIGHT color. Whew. So tonight we're setting it up, and, with any luck, Addy will be out of the crib. I am a little sad but mostly excited, because I really do think she's ready and will be okay with it.

6. I have now gained eighteen pounds. I am about twelve pounds from where I was when Addy was BORN. Which means I can only gain four pounds a month from now on, if I am to gain the same amount this time. Which is basically to say, I am SO going to be gaining more weight this time. And this is fine. Really, it is. It will be good and healthy if this baby is bigger than Addy was, for one thing. Not, like, five pounds bigger. But maybe one or two. What I have a problem with, however, is that my THIGHS appear to be pregnant.

7. There are large black ants taking over our house. I really don't have a lot to say about this, because it's not funny, it's been almost two months, and I am about to scream. And yet I can't set out traps because the last time I did, Adelay tried to eat them. So all I can do is obsessively smash ants all day long, and obsessively clean up crumbs and food bits to try not to attract the ants. But still they come. It's like being at a picnic all day long, minus the watermelon and the fun.

8. Yesterday at Wal-Mart, I saw just the classiest thing ever! In line in front of me was a young dad with his little baby boy, laughing and playing. I smiled benevolently and thought, "Aw." And then I glanced at the conveyor belt, upon which lay his single purchase: a giant box of Trojans. Which, while hard to ignore, lying there in all its glory, was not an inherently negative thing. His son looked to be about three months old and the guy wasn't wearing a wedding band, so safe sex was probably a good idea for him. But then a minute later, I saw him drive by the front of the store as I was walking out, in his rusted out truck, with the carseat, forward facing, in the front seat! Despite my previous attempt to judge not lest I myself be judged, I gave in and judged him quite sternly to be a white trash loser out to go break a condom, and probably not with his son's mother, either. And then I laughed all the way to my car. Only at Wal-Mart...

9. I am so stinking tired of our dentist. And tired of not having dental coverage on our health plan. Since switching to our current office (because, ironically, the old one was getting too expensive!) they have raised their fees twice. In one year. It now costs me ninety-three bucks to get a cleaning. When paying out of pocket, this is insane. I know for a fact there are other offices in the area which charge about half of that. So, annoyed but resigned, I am now beginning yet again to search for a new dentist.

10. Yesterday was Jim's and my third anniversary. It was simple, but nice. We went out to eat and exchanged cards. But it was really fun. We haven't done anything just the two of us, no friends or family or baby, in a long time. It turns out we can still do the old conversation thing pretty darn well. And hey, three years- we've outlasted most celebrity couples already!

Mommy Dearest

Happy Mother's Day, everyone! Here's raising a glass of... Well, sparkling grape juice for me, and something slightly more refreshing for the rest of you, in honor of another year! I hope you all got a little love from your husband and kiddies, and gave out a little love to your moms and grandmas. I hope some of you even got breakfast in bed!
And I really hope none of you had to cook today. Or that you at least had help!
I wish everyone kids that take nice long naps today, eat all their food instead of throwing it on the floor, and go to bed without a fuss. And who tell you how sweet and beautiful and kind and patient you are.
I wish you, also, husbands that do the dishes and and maybe bring you flowers and tell you that they're the luckiest guys in the world to have you.
If they haven't done so yet, allow me: All of you are great, and our families are lucky to have us!

Night of The Living Dead

These are the sort of nights that make me terrified of adding a newborn to our little family equation. Weeks can go by without a hitch- Addy goes to bed between eight and nine, I got to bed between ten and eleven and fall asleep to Friends, and Jim goes to bed at whatever ungodly hour he finds himself finally tired. (I would do this too, but then I'd be heading directly to bed after dinner.) And then it happens: something wakes me up, or Adelay, or even worse, both of us, and then it's anyone's guess how long it will wake the two of us to settle back down for the night.
Last night, for example, I turned in around ten thirty, propped myself up on my giant pillow which keeps my uterus off my spine and also allows me to breathe even with my current head cold, and popped in the tenth season of Friends (thank you, Renee!)
Sleep came quickly, interrupted only once by a quick, semiconscious trip to the bathroom. These are so routine and mindless as to not really break up my sleep rhythm any more. Open eyes, heave self out of bed, shuffle to bathroom with eyes only half open, pee, return to bed. Sometimes I'm back asleep within one minute. This trip was no different. But the dream I had when I did return to sleep was so alarming as to jerk me from sleep into a land of wakeful paranoia, roaming through the house, checking all the dark corners for intruders, and finally, unable to help myself, prowling into Adelay's room.
I dreamed that I was in bed, asleep, and was then startled from sleep by noises in the baby's room next to us. I woke Jim up and insisted he go in and check. When he did, he returned, shaken and cradling Addy, to inform me: "There was someone in there!"
The intruder somehow disappears before anyone sees him, but Jim tells me that when he walked in, the guy was holding Adelay and packing her stuff up in a bag. The rest is all a weird blur- police come, lights are on all over the neighborhood, neighbors and friends huddle in our living room while I make coffee. Adelay is clinging to my body, frightened, and I am holding her with an equally terrified death grip. People keep saying, "Thank God you woke up in time!" and the police are asking us who we know who might have wanted to steal our child.
We don't know, of course, and so the police begin rooting through all of our things, looking for pictures or clues. I am freaking out, naturally, and ranting, "We are moving! Far away! We have to change our names! We cannot let this person find us ever again!"
Adelay, still clinging to me like a baby monkey, pees through her sleeper, and I am stricken with guilt that I have further frightened her. I rush off to change her diaper, and that was when I woke up.
And lost my mind. Because upon waking, in a cold sweat, I managed to calm down and convince myself it was all a dream, and then just as I was drifting back to sleep, I heard noises from Addy's room! Now what was I supposed to do? I tried to tell myself it was just her, restless from a dream or something, tossing and turning, but in the back of my head I kept hearing, "What if there's a kidnapper in there? What if those noises are that creepy man opening and closing her drawers just like in your dream? What if the dream was a sign from God so you can rescue your baby?"
It didn't take much of this before I jumped out of bed and hovered outside her closed door, weighing my options: Possibly wake her up to reassure myself that she is not being stolen, or take my chances and let her go back to sleep, then live with the guilt for the rest of my natural life if she actually IS being kidnapped. I went with the first choice, being as I was half awake and not especially rational, and also had crazy mama bear hormones still surging through my body. Once I decided to go in, I practically had to restrain myself from breaking down the door with my shoulder instead of quietly turning the knob.
And there he was! Oh wait, no. There no one was, except of course Addy, tossing and turning loudly, her head buried under about thirty blankets. I crept closer to the crib to pull the blankets off her head and back around her legs, and she suddenly sat upright, smiling at me broadly and holding out her arms to be held. Clearly my footsteps creaking on the floorboards had been the straw that broke the camel's back for her, sleep-wise. But I gratefully scooped her up and accepted her warm hug, reveling in the fact of her safe, unkidnapped self. I carried her back to our bed, hoping we would both fall asleep again in short order now that we were comforted by one another's presence, but this was a dream even more far fetched than the interrupted child snatching.
She bounced around gleefully, poking Jim in the face to make sure he was aware of her joyful presence, and finally settled in with her head cradled in the crook of my neck and her feet in Jim's ears. She remained there for a while, her breathing growing deeper, and I resigned myself to a stiff neck, but just as I was drifting off, she was awake again, springing around like Tigger, poking her stabby little fingers into my facial orifices to determine their location in the dark. She stared in awe at the slowly circulating ceiling fan, every so often shouting out its name and pointing.
After about forty five minutes of this, I couldn't take it anymore. Every time I thought we had both found a comfortable spot, my arm would go numb, or Adelay would toss abruptly and kick me in the kidneys before saying in a completely wide awake voice, "Mama! Daddy!" I finally scooped her up and regretfully tucked her back into her bed, where she instantly fell asleep again. Apparently the excitement of the overhead fan is just too much, even when one is entirely exhausted.
Note to self: Upon waking from scary nightmare involving one's child, maybe just listen at the door for awhile. Maybe DO NOT go stomping around like an elephant, wake the kid up, and then take her back to bed just to comfort yourself that she is alive and well. Child is not a security blanket, but a person, a small, sweaty, kicky person who does not cosleep well.

To Market, To Market...

So, here is a question, a not very exciting but oh-so-practical question, about the scheduling of one's shopping trips. Mine are completely unscheduled. I usually end up going on Fridays, a terrible choice because it's always busy, and then almost inevitably I end up having to go out again at least once during the week for something I forgot.
Here is what I want to do before the baby comes: Have a detailed list of things we need weekly, like bread and milk, fresh fruit, etc., and also a list of staple things like cereals, cleaning products, diapers, and toiletries, that I could maybe stock up on (to a certain extent- not a lot of storage space here) once every two weeks or even once a month, at the dreaded but much cheaper Wal-Mart. And then I would (ideally) choose and stick to certain days for each of these separate trips, days when the grocery and/or Wal Mart is likely to be well-stocked and uncrowded.
So the question is, how do you do your shopping? Are you a random shopper, like myself, or do you have it down to a science? If you have it down to a science, do you find that it has indeed saved you money and time, or do still end up forgetting things, and then also have the added inconvenience of having half a dozen bars of soap fall on top of you every time you open the bathroom cupboard?
Also: We do have a Sam's Club in our town, which is basically the Wal-Mart version of Costco for those of you not familiar. Are any of you members of these bulk warehouse deals, and is it worth what appears to me to be an enormous amount of hassle? Do you really save gazillions of dollars? Or do you just end up with gazillions of stale Pop-Tarts?

Bedside Manners, Or Lack Thereof

This morning was my post-op visit with Dr. N, to have my stitches removed and to confirm that, yes, indeed, I am healing properly and my leg has not fallen off or exploded or anything. I had to take Addy with me, and we started off in a fine mood. The day was pretty, Addy was being cooperative, and I managed to shower and shave my legs without injuring myself or becoming unduly tired! So we got in there, were ushered from the giant main waiting room through a labyrinth of hallways into a smaller waiting room, and things went downhill from there.
At first, Addy was content to climb up into the chairs and then exult with pride over her accomplishment. Then, apparently, chair climbing grew boring. I spotted a milk crate of toys off in a corner for her (the crate looked a wee bit out of place in this massive, multi-million dollar medical facility, complete with elaborate modern art pieces dangling from the vaulted ceilings. They couldn't spring for a toy box?) The toys inside were no better- junky garage sale crap with missing pieces, and none too clean, either. They kept her occupied for awhile, though, but after an hour of sitting there, we were both getting pretty darn bored. And I was feeling pretty darn sleepy, too, as the waiting room was overly warm.
Finally, they called us in, upon which we were ushered to a freezing exam room and told that "He'll be right in." Half hour later, after exhausting every game I could think of and finally allowing Addy to chew on the good doctor's pens to keep her busy, the man himself showed up.
He was completely strung out and jittery from something- my guess would be caffeine, or stress. Or, you know, maybe coke. He was seriously antsy, jiggling his leg and getting up and down out of his swivel chair. He seemed to be talking to himself the whole time. The five minutes I actually saw him went something like this:
Dr. N, loudly: "So, everything went well! The knee looks good. The baby's good, fine. You're doing well. No undue pain or swelling." None of these were delivered in question form.
Me, hesitantly: "Um, no? Nothing undue, I guess."
Dr. N: "Now, you saw those pictures of the arthroscopy, of course. We removed a big chunk of broken kneecap. You just can't have this popping out again or you'll ruin your kneecap. I think you need knee reconstruction. So we need to get you in here again later for further surgery, that's just all there is to it. But we'll deal with that later." Stares off into the distance. Then, jumping up suddenly: "All right! Now we need to..." Trails off, apparently switching to a secret, silent language, then resumes aloud: "...Just up on the bed here."
Me: Staring in confusion while trying to keep Addy from tearing apart my wallet.
Dr. N: "Or maybe in the chair, if you're more comfortable." Sits down again and vigorously pats chair opposite himself to identify it as a sound and excellent seating choice.
Me: Sitting down, extending knee for what I presume to be a forthcoming examination.
Dr. N: Abruptly grasps end of stitches, snips, and pulls. Repeats process on other two incisions without warning. Asks Adelay, "Is this hurting your mommy?"
Me: Pause. "Um, no."
Dr. N, heartily: "No! Of course not! These women who have babies, they're tough! They can put up with anything!" Hearty chuckle follows. Stands up again. "Okay, well, do you need anything else from me?"
Me: Staring in bewilderment. "Well, um, I need to have a different brace fitted, since the last one didn't fit? And... Do I need to do physical therapy or anything?"
Dr. N: "Well, no, your surgical recovery is fine." Stares back, equally bewildered.
Me: "Yes, I know, but you just said it would be very bad if my knee popped out again. So since I can't do any sort of reconstruction or anything for quite a while with the baby and all, should I at least try to strengthen the muscles in my leg to prevent it from popping out?"
Dr. N: "Oh, well, I suppose that's a thought, yes. Okay, we'll get you set up with something." Hastily scribbles a prescription, then bustles out the door, not to be seen again.
Five minutes later, a nurse comes in and leads Addy and I down another crazy corridor, back to the hospital equipment office where I have a second encounter with The Devil Lady who fitted me with my first brace two weeks ago. The one that DIDN'T FIT. She attempts to wrestle several equally ill-fitting braces over my white, chubby thighs, before sighing and heaving and wiping her brow as though she had been freakin' wrangling a bear. "I give up!" she announces to her coworker, who promptly takes over.
The other lady got the same exact brace the first one had been struggling with up over my knee in one smooth motion. Then she helped me find the physical therapy department, which, whatdya know, was down yet another crazy hallway. I waited in line there for about twenty minutes to get my appointment set up, while trying fruitlessly to keep Addy from finding and throwing every single brightly colored exercise ball in the whole enormous room.
When I finally emerged from the maze out into the sunshine of the parking lot, I was never so happy to escape a place in my life. I was faint with hunger, Addy was crazy from being pent up, and I was wearing an enormous contraption over my leg which is going to allow me to wear only shorts the rest of the summer. Just so you know, shorts and I are not the best of friends, so this is going to be a bit of an issue.
I was so hungry by the time we left that I felt a little woozy while I was driving back to town. I was meeting my mom and sister for lunch, and called to alert my mom that if she got there first, she should tell them to send out the cheddar biscuits, pronto. I arrived just as the waiter set down a basket of warm rolls, which I pretty much singlehandedly devoured. Come to think of it, the basket may be missing, too.
I am now so full I feel like rolling myself into the bed for a nap. But I have to wait a minute, or the heartburn will attack. Ah, pregnancy. Maybe I'll have an ice cream bar while I wait...

Getting Better

Sorry it's been so long since I posted- the monitor of our home computer finally bit the dust, and since Jim takes the laptop with him to work (and is frequently working at home, as well) my Internet time has been severely limited. It's been weird not checking people's blogs and my own comments several times every day. Nice, also, to back off of the obsession a bit, but I miss it all the same. I feel disconnected.
I had my first day by myself with Adelay on Wednesday. It went okay, largely because she was a good sport and napped in the afternoon for almost three hours so that I could as well. I was completely exhausted from limping around after her in the morning. My knee swelled up quite a bit that night, so today Jim is working from home to help keep an eye on her. Thank goodness his and my mom were both here those first few days!
Jim is turning thirty this Saturday, so there will be a big party here with all his old college and high school friends. He and his dad have been busy putting the finishing touches (railings, more stain) on our deck that they built last summer, and right now he's off at Sears to get a weed whacker, to Lowe's to get deck supplies, and then to the grocery to stock up for the cook-out. I feel kind of bad that he is doing almost all of the prep work himself for his own party, but currently that's the only way it's going to get done. I went with him to Sears, and was planning to go to the other stops as well (so I could feel like I was helping, I guess,) but by the time I was on my feet for twenty minutes in the mall I was done. We ate at Subway and then Addy and I said good-bye and headed home for naps!
Which is where I am headed now- my bed. Possibly with an ice cream bar. The Schwann's man came by yesterday, and though I usually don't get much, I figured now was a good time to get some frozen, quick foods, since cooking big meals is not high on my priority list of things to be on my feet for right now. I have a big box of personal size pizzas, a giant bag of crinkle cut fries for Addy, and the must-have box of Gold 'N' Nugget bars for Jim and I. I think there are twelve in a box, and they are always gone within a week between the two of us.
So I guess that's about it. I am now off my crutches entirely, and I get pretty swollen if I stand for too long, but on the whole I am recovering quickly, I think. Slow but steady.

Post-Surgical Report

Random, unorganized thoughts on being awake and largely unsedated during knee surgery: NOT PLEASANT. Made worse by the surgeon enthusiastically urging you to WATCH the procedure on the monitor via the microscopic cameras being threaded through your leg, and then calling you a "wuss" when you decline. Also made worse when the first anesthesiologist fails to "swirl" your spinal block properly, whatever that means, resulting in your lying there for twenty minutes feeling only tingly but distinctly NOT numb, being repeatedly stabbed up and down your body with a pin and asked, "Can you still feel this? And this? And this?"
And then finally a second anesthesiologist must come in, and your entire body, which is by now too numb for you to move it but by far too not numb to be operated on, must be rolled to its side by nurses and held in position as a second spinal is administered. You are by now shivering uncontrollably, a result of the frigid temperatures of the operating room, the spinal medication, and possibly your horror that some idiot who didn't know what he was doing was jabbing you in the spine with a long needle!
But at last the surgery is underway. The anesthesiologist gives you a "whiff" of Fentanyl through the IV, which lasts all of five minutes, during which time you seem to float, and then the rest of the time you are fully cognizant of the various and sundry people working briskly on your body behind the drape sheet. Such a strange sensation, to be vaguely aware of your leg being poked and sometimes even pulled on and moved around forcefully, yet to feel it only as though it is some sort of phantom limb. Also strange was the fact that even though I was numb from my rib cage down, I could feel the baby moving throughout the procedure. It was very reassuring to me, that movement, but surreal, too.
Then came the worst part. I was all bandaged up and my numb, useless self was hoisted from the operating table to a rolling bed. Off I went to recovery, still shaking pretty hard from my TWO doses of spinal block. They checked the baby's heart rate to make sure he had come out okay, which he had, and then reattached me to all the heart and blood pressure monitors. I was fine for a minute, but then I began to feel really dizzy, and I was shaking violently. I started to feel like I was blacking out, and I was aware of a bunch of people all around me suddenly, moving me pretty abruptly onto my left side, with my head down and feet up.
It seemed my blood pressure had taken a dip into the eighties, which is very low for me. They kept giving me drugs through my IV to bring it back up, but for about ten minutes it stayed really low and I remember thinking maybe I wasn't going to get better. I was really out of it and felt worse than I can ever remember feeling. I was cold and hot all at once, shaking, and so dizzy. My heart was racing from the drugs and I was struggling to breathe. All I could think was that something bad was happening to the baby as well. I kept asking for Jim, but they wouldn't let him come back until I was stabilized. They also told me later it was because there were other patients back there in post-op, and it would violate their privacy or something.
A lady from labor and delivery came down to check the baby, and throughout the blood pressure episode he was fine. He kicked wildly, in fact, a result of the ephedrine they were giving me. They said it probably felt like a huge adrenaline surge to him.
Anyways, after what felt like forever I finally stabilized. Gradually, the shaking wore off, and I was completely exhausted, but kept being afraid to nod off for fear of dying. I was still a little terrified from the whole thing. It definitely turned me off even more to the idea of an epidural. I hated the whole process, and I definitely did not enjoy the low blood pressure, which they told me was a side effect from the spinal. Probably because I had to have TWO, not that I am bitter!
Finally, after an hour in post-op to make sure I was stable, they wheeled me to a recovery room. They had called Jim and told him what was taking so long, so he had gone to get something to eat once he knew I was okay. There were flowers waiting for me when I got to the recovery room, though.
A nurse came periodically to check me and the baby, and also to help me put on the oh so comfortable (and sexy!) compression hose things to prevent blood clots. They are white opaque thigh highs, which actually come right to the top of my leg, not mid thigh, and which I must constantly readjust, as they have to be kept wrinkle free or they will in fact cause blood clots rather than prevent them. I have to wear them for the next week. Oh joy.
Jim finally got back, bearing yummy food for me, which I couldn't finish even after nibbling for an hour. My stomach must have shrunk a little, plus being numb had made it feel very weird. My mom also brought me an array of tropical flavored Skittles, which I sampled slowly while I waited to get feeling back in my legs. It took about two hours, but little by little the spinal finally wore off, except in my butt. The nurse told me the buttocks are the last area to regain feeling. What a fascinating tidbit. So, I was painstakingly helped to stand up and make my way to the restroom. And let me tell you, also fascinating is the feeling of trying to sit on the toilet and being a, mentally aware that your butt is on the seat but physically numb to it, and b, trying very hard to pee even though your bladder and PCG muscles are numb and you cannot feel the urge despite your bladder being very full.
This whole process is made much more glamorous by your husband standing in the bathroom with you, ostensibly to help but actually sneaking in pictures and even video footage of you waddling around in your hospital gown supported by a walker! (He also checked the baby's heart rate for me with a Doppler which one of the L and D nurses had left in my room, and was very proud that he found the heartbeat sooner than they had been able to. So proud, in fact, that I had to talk him out of stealing the Doppler, but that's a whole 'nother story...)
So, anyhoo, two days later here I am at home, still in my support hose, on crutches, but feeling much better. I can actually feel my tushy, for instance, so that helps. I took Vicodin the first night and also yesterday, but haven't needed it so far today. I can't bear weight on the knee yet, but I am getting around okay on my own and can make my way unassisted from the bedroom to the bathroom- real progress. I can't shower yet, which sucks, but is also kind of a lazy pleasure. I brush my teeth, wash my face with a washcloth, maybe roll on some deodorant, and voila! I'm ready for the day.
Sleeping is a bit of a challenge, since I have to keep my knee elevated but also cannot lie on my back, so I either have to lie on my left side and keep two pillows between my legs to lift my right knee, or lie flat but with pillows wedged both behind me and under my leg. Which is why I may just resort to a pain pill tonight to help sleep come.
People have been incredibly nice, though, the last few days. My mom helped me clean the whole house the day before surgery, Jim has been keeping up on all the dishes and toys, and various people from our church have been bringing a steady stream of meals. Lovely. Also has been the wonderful gift of having relatives around to watch Adelay whenever needed. And tomorrow and Tuesday, my mom and MIL are taking turns staying with Addy and me during the day while Jim's at work. It's almost like a little vacation, now that my knee isn't throbbing so painfully. I lie on the couch, reading a magazine, and other people bring me food and carry Addy to me for cuddles every now and then. A girl could almost get used to this...
Except for the support hose and the not showering and the CONSTANT FRICKIN' PEEING! Did I mention that? The hose, coupled with the baby on my bladder, are squeezing every last ounce of excess moisture from my body. Which is bad timing, when getting up to pee is a ten minute ordeal.
So, let's see, I think I've got you up to speed on everything. Two spinals, low blood pressure, numb butt, support hose, lots of peeing, feeling much better today... Yes, that's about everything. Oh, yeah, the doc also gave me pictures of the inside of my knee during the operation, did I mention that? I have a lovely shot of the nasty piece of white, broken off kneecap being removed from my leg with some sort of tongs. Yech. They actually asked me if I wanted to keep the piece of bone! Do I look like a collector of my own body parts? Do I look like a person who saved my placenta after childbirth, for instance? I do not.
So yeah, I think that's it. And now I must pee again.

Blah, Blah, Blah

Not a lot to say lately, I'm afraid. It's just been a blah kind of week or two, with nothing much getting done except the bare minimum in regards to both housework and personal grooming. Even the toddler bed didn't get set up, because the good people at the company sent it in BLACK instead of oak, and when called and informed of their error, they said that they were so very sorry, but they were out of oak. Even though their ebay add had been for an OAK bed! So the bed was repackaged and sent back, the company was given a very bad customer review, and a new bed (from a new company) has been chosen.
I'm trying to figure out right now if I should take advantage of Adelay's nap to do some dusting and stuff around here before I'm off my feet for a week, or if I should take advantage of my mom's offer to come over tomorrow night and do it FOR me, thereby freeing up right now to take a nap myself. I don't feel especially tired, but my knee is really stiff today, so I don't feel like trying to clean and then hurting myself, either.
Well, I suppose I could always watch Friends!... I found the seventh season today- I had somehow misplaced it. Misplaced it ON THE DVD SHELF. See, I had been keeping my Friends collection on a separate, higher shelf, out of Addy's reach, but I must have missed that particular season. And I brilliantly never even looked for it on the original shelf.
Wow, this is the world's most boring post. I thought I had maybe achieved that a few months back, but I think today's is the clear winner. Sorry, guys. I'm sure I'll have some good stuff to write about after the surgery, when I get my drugs! Bear with me until then.

Thoughts Over Breakfast

As the surgery draws nearer, I am more and more content with the decision to undergo it. Every time I am on my feet for more than an hour, something bad happens (popping, locking up) and then I have to go rest it. So our house is pretty dirty right now. Tidy, mostly, but not clean. And Mama is a cranky, snarly person most of the time. I do not deal with ongoing inconvenience very gracefully, that much has become clear. I obviously need to work on this area of my character.
But all that was to simply say: I am actually feeling excited about going in for surgery on Friday. Not so much for the spinal and the sedatives and the being vaguely aware that people are threading tiny little scopes into my leg and all that, but for the end result, of walking around and feeling normal and not appearing like a bloated eighty-five year old with gout.
Here's the only thing I am truly dreading: Not eating prior to the surgery. I know, I know, how shallow am I? But this is a big deal for a pregnant lady, and if the surgery is in the afternoon, which it still might be, I could be sitting around in a hospital johnny watching horrible daytime TV and starving for half a day! This is a more gruesome prospect than any blood drawing or IV insertion.
I am in an unusually good mood this morning. The sun is shining, and I have the back door open to let in the sound of the breeze and the birds and our neighbor's wind chime. I am eating eggs and toast and juice, and I am also blissfully alone. For once, the other members of my family are sleeping in and I was the one who woke up ready to start the day. Jim is enjoying the rare novelty of sleeping in on a Monday, I'm sure.
He is home because we have a funeral to go to later this morning- my grandmother's, which is sad for me in a wistful, "now this era of my life is over" kind of way, but not in the heartbroken way that my grandpa's death hit me. I am glad they are together again, for one thing. And I am glad she's not in pain anymore and will have her mind restored to her. I am glad she will not be lying, incoherent, in a nursing home bed for years and years to come. Her passing almost feels peaceful, like closure. But I am sorry to not have grandparents anymore. She was my last one, and I feel oddly adrift, even though she and I were not especially close. I feel like my childhood is completely ended now (I know, I know- I think that door was shut a while ago, like when I had my own child!)
I remember I was pregnant when Jim's grandma died, too. It feels comforting to me to be bringing a new life into the world as I say goodbye to an old one. This morning, I laid in bed for a few minutes to enjoy the baby's movements. A few of them I could swear I felt from the outside, so I grabbed Jim's hand and pressed it against the bump. "I think that's a hand!" I whispered. "Can you feel it?" Now, we have done this routine several times over the last couple of weeks, but this morning it actually happened, and Jim got to feel his son for the first time. It's such a magical thing. I got big time de ja vu remembering the first time he felt Adelay, also in bed in the morning. I wonder how many more times we will get to experience this particular first of a child's life?
I think I must go wake everyone up now, but I'm really enjoying the solitude. Maybe I'll have to start trying to get up before everyone else on the weekends or something to soak up a little sun and alone time more often.

It Could Always Be Worse

Hilarious Story Involving Poop and Household Disasters
Thank you to Chrissy for this story, which reminded me that so far I have not yet experienced the very worst that toddlerhood has to offer.

Moaning and Groaning

Bleck. Bleck bleck bleck. I am sick of being pregnant. That is mean, but I am. I want this child out, I want to hold him and cuddle him and dress him and nurse him and even change his tiny little poop diapers. Anything but LUG HIM AROUND ON MY BLADDER for another four months!
Maybe I am just feeling eager because I finally bought boy bedding, and I want to set up his nursery and then bring him home and show it to him. Preferably in the next week. Instead, I have to wait until all the room switcheroo-ing is done, which will involve much painting and rearranging and bed assembling. And, oh yeah, I have to wait until after I get done having my knee cut up and then put through rehab.
Oh well. I am bored with feeling sorry for myself, although it is certainly comforting at times. Really, what is there to say? I am fat and uncomfortable and get heartburn every time I eat and my knee hurts and my toddler yells and throws food and sometimes the days are lonely. None of these are tragedies. It's just the dailiness. If only life were not so daily...
Oh, but guess what? I found that little frog outfit! The one from Old Navy that Devan's new baby was pictured in! (Sorry, too sleepy to link right now.) And it was on sale! This made me actually exclaim out loud in the middle of the store, I was so excited. The only fly in the ointment was that I found the matching hat, but only in an eighteen month size. It was worse than not finding the hat at all. But still... The outfit cheered me up. And now I'm going to bed. With a plate of cheese and crackers.
P.S. My surgery will be next Friday. It was then or a MONTH from now. I was like, "What? You tell me it's urgent and then casually suggest walking around in pain for a month? If I'm doing it, let's DO it already!" Also, why is my surgeon's assistant so freaking hard to get a hold of? It is her job to answer the phone. Why do I need to call three times before I get called back?
Oh, whoops. I'm bored with self pity, I forgot.

Decision

Well, back from the ultrasound and surgery consultation. The baby is fine, measuring right on schedule, and, as I suspected, has his feet buried under my pubic bone and is firmly kicking my bladder every time he moves. "A classic footling breech!" the sonographer said, as though this was somehow exciting news. But she said not to worry that he'll stay there; at least half of babies are still in breech position at this point in pregnancy. Phew.
He still has the requisite male genitalia, though it was a little hard to get a shot this time, what with his butt wedged in my pelvic cavity and all. But we got him to give us a nice moon shot, finally. "See that dangling?" asked the sonographer. "Yes!" Jim confirmed with much relief. I was glad he got to see it, since at the last ultrasound he was neither present, nor could he really discern what was going on in the picture I brought home. It was good to get a second opinion. I'll feel a little better about going out and getting boy bedding and clothes.
In other news, my OB was pretty firmly in the surgery now camp, saying that the heavier I get in my pregnancy, the more stress will be on my knee and the more danger I will be in of falling on my belly. He thinks it will be safer to have the surgery now and get recovered before the baby comes. He also said if I have a spinal, the baby will get hardly any of it, and that the effects of just a couple of days of pain killers or an hour of sedatives will be very minimal. Apparently if one has to have a surgical procedure while pregnant, the middle three months are the best time, because the baby is big enough that its organ systems are all done developing and won't be affected by the drugs, but it's also small enough that the chance of triggering premature labor is very small.
So I guess we're going with surgery... I am by no means thrilled about it, but I feel resigned after talking to the OB. He said all things considered, he thought it was safer for the baby, for Adelay, and for me to do it now.
So the surgery will be scheduled for some time next week, probably. Let's get those freezable brownie and casserole recipes pouring in!
P.S. Please forgive my completely arbitrary use of the words "effect" and "affect"- I have literally no idea which is appropriate for any given context, so I just guessed because I didn't feel like digging out my grammar handbook.

You're Invited To My Pity Party

I had an appointment with an orthopedist today to double-check that my knee was okay, just healing slowly, and guess what? It's not okay! Apparently when I fell I broke off a piece of bone or cartilage or something, which the doctor said was clearly palpable. It is the reason I am still feeling discomfort and is also the cause of the locking up/clicking sensations in my knee. Also the reason why it hurt so freaking bad when it actually happened.
So, the cure for this is surgery. Only surgery. And the doctor said it's kind of pointless to try to do rehab on the weak ligaments until this floating piece of whatever is removed.
One option is to wait until I deliver and then have it done, and in the meantime wear a brace all the time and limit my activity and pick up Addy as little as possible and most especially do nothing that would make me likely to fall again- so, basically, TRY NOT TO MOVE for the next four months.
The other option is to have the surgery now! I didn't even know this was possible. Basically the doctor came in, felt my knee, announced that I needed surgery, and left the room to call my OB to ask if I could go under the knife during this stage of pregnancy. And the OB said yes, as long as I had a spinal rather than general anesthesia.
This freaks me out so much. (Also, frankly, makes me feel very sorry for myself.) I keep thinking thoughts along the lines of, "Why does something weird always happen to me when I'm pregnant?" The other thought is, "I am never getting pregnant again; this sucks and I have yet to have a smooth, uncomplicated pregnancy. Clearly I am not good at this or someone out there does not like me."
I really, really do not like the idea of having surgery while pregnant. Although I did feel much better when he told me I would not be under general anesthesia, and that the spinal was unlikely to even affect the baby. There's all these pros and cons to weigh, though; it's so confusing. If I don't have the surgery now, I risk falling again, and possibly dropping Adelay or landing on my belly or something horrible. Plus there's the annoyance of having to be all careful and cautious about every step I take for a long period of time. My OB also said that there's a risk of my getting a blood clot if I'm on any kind of bedrest for a long period of time. Hooray!
But the risks and fears associated with the surgery are also scary and valid. I have an increased risk of a blood clot there, too, because that is always a risk with surgery, and I can't take the aspirin they usually prescribe to prevent it because, oh, I'm pregnant! And what if the sedatives they'll give me hurt the baby? Or the pain meds for post-op? And what if I still end up falling again and re-injuring my knee and the surgery was for nothing?
What would you do if it were you? Help!

The Art of Seduction

I will give you fair warning: If you don't want to hear references to sex, then probably skip this post. If you're like me, however, and find that TMI makes a good story all the better, read on.
If you are currently or ever have been pregnant, you know that, save for random hormonal fluxes, you're generally not feeling your most sexy. I know that there are some women for whom the complete opposite is true, though- they feel like sexy goddesses throughout their entire pregnancy. I am not this woman. I do enjoy the round tummy, which is finally getting big enough to feel firm and balloon like and cute, and I do enjoy bigger boobs, 'cause Lord knows I'm not overly endowed in that area to begin with. But I do not enjoy heartburn and constant hunger and fatigue and backache and hip aches and gas and waddling. I do not enjoy the way I seem to be mysteriously harboring half my baby weight in my thighs. Anyways, let's suffice it to say that when pregnant, I am not exactly wandering around the house in skimpy lingerie with a come-hither look in my eye.
But there are occasions when I actually "feel like it" and am the initiator- only about once or twice a trimester, but still. And last night, I decided, would be one of those nights. I had actually done my hair and worn makeup, and I did some bathing and perfuming and then managed to dig up a negligee that would actually fit over my stomach- it was a pink floral print, hardly one of my favorites and I'm not actually sure where or when I acquired it, but there it was and it fit, so I wiggled myself into it, huffing and puffing and hopping on my good leg, and voila! Sexy. Or at least as sexy as it gets right now.
Of course, standing for an extended period of time to shave my legs, balancing first on the bad knee leg and then on the sore hip leg, had left me shaky and fatigued. Then, walking as gracefully as I could to the den to reveal my frisky self, I realized that I was also starving. I had forgotten about dinner due to the weird eating habits the weekend always seems to bring about in our house. So I was getting a little clammy with cold sweat from a low blood sugar level as well.
I passed through the laundry room, determined to power through the hunger, and observed about a trillion ants swarming all over and around the dog's food dish, where someone had scraped a few of Addy's leftovers that the dog hadn't discovered yet. There were ants EVERYWHERE. I grit my teeth and found the Windex and paper towels. But oh, the Windex had not yet been opened, and the little red cap was stuck in the off position and I could not get it open to spray and kill all the little ants, and I was standing there, simultaneously freezing and sweating in my thin nightie, growling and huffing and trying to open the Windex, when Jim finally heard me.
He got the Windex open, we killed the ants and cleaned them up, put the mat under the dog dish in the washer, and Jim cleaned out both the dog bowls so as to not poison the dog with Windex. It was not exactly my idea of foreplay. Also, after all the bending and wiping of the floor, my knee was swollen and throbbing.
When we were finally finished with the ant crisis, Jim noted my attire, coupled with my distinctly unseductive mood. "So yeah... Maybe not tonight," I shrugged apologetically, piling a plate with cheese and crackers and removing the ice pack from the freezer. "The mood has passed."
It had been replaced by the mood to lay in bed with a protein-filled snack, an ice pack around my knee, and a Benadryl working its magic on my stuffy, achy head. After one episode of Friends and about a dozen Triscuits, my shaky body, now dressed in flannel, was much, much happier. Now that is my kind of satisfaction.

Sorry, Shauna!

Hey, I just realized that I was tagged for this meme like a week ago and haven't done it yet! Sorry, Shauna- here goes:


Three Things That Scare Me:
1. Myself or my family being the victims of random crime (terrorism, child snatching, being run down in a McDonalds parking lot by a crazy person off their meds, etc.)
2. My bad dreams
3. The idea of drowning

Three People Who Make Me Laugh:
1. Jim and Adelay
2. Dwight Schrute
3. Tina Fey

Three Things I Love:
1. Babies (sorry to steal your answer, Swistle, but I cannot tell a lie.)
2. Vacations
3. Cleanliness. My dream would be to have Monica Gellar as my maid for the rest of my life.

Three Things I Hate:
1. How much of a perfectionist I am, but only about weird, stupid stuff (for example, I have been sitting here agonizing over whether or not to put periods at the end of EVERY answer for continuity's sake, or to only put periods at the end of ACTUAL sentences. Also, as a child I used to cry when someone sat on my bed and wrinkled it after I had made it.)
2. When I unload the dishwasher and realize that I didn't rinse the pans well enough and now there are hardened specks of food all over the clean glasses. In part, I hate it simply because Jim is always scrupulously scrubbing everything before he loads the dishwasher, and I am just going for speed, usually, even though I know his way is better. When I see the specks, I remember that he is right, and it makes me cranky.
3. Murderers, rapists, kidnappers, anyone who abuses children or animals, terrorists... Bad guys in general.

Three Things I Don't Understand:
1. Refer to answer number three from the previous question.
2. Any mathematical concepts higher than algebra.
3. Why people have children and then treat them terribly.

Three Things On My Desk:
1. Cup of decaf coffee.
2. Remote controls (desk is in the main TV room, and is positioned so that one can simultaneously watch Scrubs AND keep updated on Pistons scores. We're big multitaskers around here!)
3. A lamp with a burnt out bulb I haven't replaced yet.

Three Things I'm Doing Right Now:
1. Being disgusted by my combination of morning and coffee breath.
2. Listening to Adelay not napping on the monitor.
3. Thinking about how I really need to get myself cleaned up for the baby shower, since it will take a good long while to scrub off the grime from this weekend!

Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die:
1. Travel a LOT more, like say, outside of the country (and I don't mean Canada or a small tropical island owned by a resort chain.)
2. See my children happy and content in their adult lives.
3. Move somewhere with mild, temperate weather, instead of this fun combination of raging humidity and freak snowstorms.

Three Things I Can Do:
1. Appear a lot more self-assured than I actually am.
2. Other people's makeup (I'm truly much better at this than most people, so I had to include it. I never, for instance, rest the edge of my hand on your cheekbone while I'm doing your eyeliner, thereby smudging your already applied blush. I never try to do the mascara for you- people are always better at that themselves. Nor would I apply foundation and then begin to put on eyeshadow without first dusting your foundation with loose powder. I mean, the eyeshadow flecks stick in the wet foundation, people! You have to powder FIRST!)
3. Clean very thoroughly.

Three Things I Can't Do:
1. Make pie crust from scratch (I have never actually tried, but I have no desire to whatsoever, so I'm going to assume I will never pick up this skill.)
2. Shave without nicking myself.
3. Spend more than thirty bucks on a pair of shoes. It just kills me, for some reason, even though a good pair of shoes is hardly a wholly frivolous purchase. And trust me, I have made some wholly frivolous purchases without a twinge of regret.

Three Things I Think You Should Listen To:
1. Your mom.
2. Your kids, if they're trying to tell you something- don't assume you always know what happened, or what their intentions were, or what they were thinking.
3. Your own instincts. Provided you have good instincts. And if you don't, work on honing them and tuning out the outside voices which have previously muddled them.

Three Things You Should Never Listen To:
1. Criticism from people whose opinions you don't care about or respect anyways.
2. The ongoing drama of Anna Nicole Smith- get a life, people! She was one step above a crack whore, and this country pays more attention to her death than we did to Mother Theresa's.
3. Dr. Phil's banal, so-called advise. I could offer more insight in my sleep. I think most people could.

Three Things I'd Like To Learn:
1. To speak Spanish.
2. To relax and be in the moment.
3. To ride horseback gracefully. (I still have this secret wish to be one of the members of The Saddle Club.)

Three Favorite Foods:
1. anything Mexican
2. peaches and watermelon (I know, I shamelessly cheated and squeezed in two.)
3. cheese and crackers

Three Shows I Watched As A Kid:
1. Growing Pains
2. Mr. Roger's Neighborhood
3. Little House On The Prairie

Three Things I Regret:
1. Allowing a certain relationship to affect my self-esteem so much.
2. Having such crappy eating habits in high school, because I can't get away with them anymore- I need to set a good example.
3. Not taking a trip with my friends the summer after our senior year.

Three People I'm Tagging:
I actually think most people have done this one already, so I'm just going to say, if you haven't yet, and you're at a loss for a post topic, feel free to consider yourself tagged!

Mental Vacation

I am going to pretend that it is not snowing outside like a friggin' winter wonderland. I am going to pretend that Adelay does not have roto virus and that our house does not currently smell like a poorly cleaned nursing home thanks to the frequent diaper changes. I am going to pretend that I HAVE showered and brushed my hair today, and that there is lipstick and blush on my face. I am going to pretend that Jim and I are doing something more exciting than sitting around in sweatpants watching Kingpin for the zillionth time and eating our usual weekend gourmet- two pizzas. I am going to also pretend that I did something fun last night, rather than what I actually did, which was to sit by myself in the den crying over a Holocaust documentary and thinking morose thoughts about whose attic I could hide my children in, if white middle class Protestants were to become victims of mass genocide. Cheerful, lighthearted weekend thoughts.
So... Instead, I am mentally checked out of the Midwest. I am wearing a bathing suit- heck, let's make it a bikini. I am boldly baring my round midriff, getting tan and sipping a virgin daiquiri with a paper umbrella in it. I am lying on the deck of a pool, and the sun is glistening off the water. I have to wear sunglasses just to see the pages of my novel. I can feel myself getting really nice color after just an hour or so. My skin feels warm and toasty to the touch.
Later, after I'm too hot to sit by the pool anymore, I will return to the hotel suite and leisurely prepare for dinner. I will wear my cute sundress (with the empire waistline) and white sandals, and then I will meet Jim downstairs in the hotel restaurant, where we will sip wine (okay, maybe not me) and watch the sunset from the window of our private dining room. We'll eat lobster and Caesar salad and something decadent for dessert... Something with lemon and cream.
Adelay will be safely at home with a relative, and without roto virus. So Jim and I will stay out as late as we want. Maybe we'll stroll hand in hand down the beach after dinner, admiring the stars on the water.
Or maybe we'll finish watching Kingpin and pour Addy another cup of Pedialyte.

Addy's Big Girl Bed

Toddler Bed
So this is Adelay's new bed, except that hers has a flat headboard instead of slatted, and is now on its way here in a lovely oak. I'm pretty excited about it, but it seems like it's one of those things... One of those things that's a big, cool step, but might actually be opening a whole new can of worms. Like potty training. End result, good. Process to achieving end result, not so fun.
We won't actually be introducing the bed for another month at least, I'm thinking. But our doctor said we should get her moved into her big girl bed in her new room at least a month before the baby comes so she doesn't feel displaced by the baby and hold it against him. So probably around June or July we'll make the transition.
If you have a toddler or have had a toddler, when did you move them to a toddler bed? Or when do you plan to?

In Lieu Of Hallmark, I Offer This

As I am not a fan of the generic, obligatory thank-you note, but am however a person who does occasionally snap out of my pity party to be aware of my blessings for a moment, I am using this entry to give some random thank-you's to people who have in some way or another made me happy lately despite my generally bad mood.

Dear Jess: Thank you for insisting that I allow you to bring me lunch even though I was still in sweatpants and there were dishes everywhere and I was embarrassed to let you see. I often need to be reminded that people do not want to see me in order to admire my clean kitchen.

Dear Adelay: Thank you for hardly ever crying immediately upon waking up from your nap, but for playing happily in your crib for about a half an hour so that I can stretch my own nap out a little and wake up slowly. These things make all the difference. Also, thank you for your new habit of snuggling your head in on my shoulder just like you used to do as a newborn. (Maybe you somehow know that your days of being the baby are numbered?)

Dear Kelly: Thank you for randomly dropping by to fill me in on drama and gossip, and to discuss your A.P. English books with me. Also, for forcing me to cook actual meals for lunch instead of eating cheese and crackers every single day. Thank you for not being horrified with me even though more often than not I am still in my pajamas when you arrive.

Dear Parents and Parents-In-Law: Thank you for babysitting so often and so willingly (and so cheaply!) Also thank you for feeding all of us on such a regular basis (especially Mom, with the frequently bringing me lunch in the day!)

Dear Jenn, Kevin, Erin, John, Matt, and Heather: Thank you for being there on Tuesdays. I don't think any of you read this other than Jenn, but I have been enjoying our new series and I think we're actually getting somewhere with it, so I'm excited.

Dear Shane, Julie, Josh, Adam, Megan, Kevin, Other Adam, and Jess: Thank you for being there every Sunday. I know sometimes it may seem like we're not accomplishing much, but if nothing else we're having adult conversation, so please know that I live for it!

Dear Baby: Thank you for kicking and squirming a lot so I don't have to wonder if you're ok in there!

Dear Jim: Thank you for going out at almost ten o'clock the other night to bring me won tons, crab rangoon, and egg rolls. And not even complaining. It made me happier than a pile of fried food should reasonably make a person, but there you have it. In that moment, you were a hero. Those egg rolls may as well have been life preservers.

Dear Commenters: Thank you for reassuring me that I'm not talking to myself here.

A Rambling Post Tied Together Numerically

1. I had horrible mommy guilt today because while I was busy (reading blogs!) Addy decided to jump up and down on the couch and she fell backwards onto her head before I could catch her. I did give my bad knee a nice wrench jumping up to try to catch her, though. And then I felt awful and was watching her all night for signs of concussion and decided never again to be on the computer while she is awake in the den with me. Clearly I cannot supervise properly AND catch up on blogs.
2. Prior to the mommy guilt episode, I had massive mommy frustration going on because Adelay seemed intent today on playing with/doing everything she isn't supposed to play with and or do (i.e., pulling heavy coasters out of the drawer and banging them on the coffee table, running around crazily with sharp pencils, clickety-clacking all over the computer keyboard, trying to do high dives off of the changing table, etc.) So I spent all day saying no and taking things away and trying to comfort tantrums and I felt like a big mean ogre.
3. It rained all day today. The depressed mood draped me like a familiar blanket. I did do some actual housework today, though, without too much fuss from the knee, so that made me happy for awhile. Then Adelay woke up from her nap, flung toys and Tupperware all over the freshly tidied house, and then fell off the couch headfirst. And then it was time to make dinner, and the stupid clothes in the dryer wouldn't get dry, and I realized that the skin on my face will not stop being dry and flaky no matter how much I moisturize it, and my hair is greasy again, and I have pores on my nose the size of craters, and POOF! Fleeting good mood is dissolved.
4. Silver lining: After dinner, I told Jim I needed some alone time. He stayed and cleaned up dinner and put Addy to bed and I went to the coffeehouse and got a chai latte, then went to Toys 'R' Us to pick up a baby shower gift for this weekend (does anyone else feel like gift buying is never-ending?) But it was nice to be in the quiet by myself for awhile, and to stroll around and look at all the cute boy baby stuff at my leisure. I even found a cute wall hanging on a really good clearance for the boy's (Beckett's?) nursery soon to be created. So that was all very nice. Thanks, hon.
5. Also, yesterday Addy randomly climbed up on the bed next to me while I was resting my knee, took my face carefully between her hands, and kissed me, smiled, kissed me again, smiled, kissed me AGAIN, then laughed hysterically and patted my face. And it made me very, very happy. Because, a, clearly she loves me in her own little way, and b, I must be modeling some affectionate behavior for her to know how to do that, right? I must be doing okay.

Spring Cleaning (Mentally, Anyways)

All this lying around resting my leg has left me feeling desperate to clean, which is exactly what happened when I was put on bedrest during my last pregnancy. Only then it was for a whole month, which meant people were coming in to help, and also we had no children at that point, which meant no one was running around emptying the bathroom drawers, or scattering raisins and dry cereal throughout the house. So it didn't make me as crazy, even though it was a longer period of time.
Today I have felt somewhat normal, although my knee is still weak and wobbly and my nose is running. But I have put away some laundry, which has been folded and waiting for a week, and I slowly and carefully pushed the vacuum cleaner around a bit to try to make a dent in the thick layer of dust and dog hair and crumbs which seems to have settled throughout our house even as the unseasonal snow was settling outside of it.
The settling of these things, snow and otherwise, has conspired to put me in a very bad mood the last few days. More and more I am realizing what a control freak I actually am, though I would generally deny it. When things don't go how I think they ought to, or happen when I wish they would, it's hard for me to shake the pouty, gloomy mood which takes hold. Which is a nice way of saying, when the dishes are piling up and I can write my name in the dust on top of the microwave, yet I am forbidden to clean and no one else in the house is quite as, shall we say, motivated to do it as I am, I turn into a bit of a bee-otch.
I feel less depressed today, which I am pretty sure is directly related to the sun, which is finally shining again, and the weather, which has finally broken forty degrees after taking a dip into the twenties the last week. It's still cold, but it's like, "Oh, this is a little chilly for April," and not so much like, "Why does God hate the Midwest and play these horrible little games with our heads?"
Anyways... Not sure where I was going with this. Just making the general point that I need to be more flexible, I guess, and more realistic about cleaning expectations (and expectations in general.) I mean, our house isn't even that atrocious. It's probably how most people's houses are all the time, and it doesn't bother them at all. It's not exactly unsanitary or about to be condemned. It's just not perfectly tidy and hasn't been dusted in almost two weeks, plus dear God there were dishes sitting around for days!
I don't know why I can't just let it be, and know that someone will get to it eventually. I don't know why I can't enjoy this time of resting and having a reason to be lazy. This is a perfect day to eat my Easter candy and watch TV. Instead, I sit and stew and glare at the mess and make lists of all the deep cleaning tasks which I plan to do in each room just as soon as my knee heals.
The other day I got all tearful talking to Jim about how afraid I am of the whole adjustment period when the baby comes. For the first time, I will be outnumbered during the day, and things like housekeeping and showering are definitely going to be lower on the priority list than they have been. The fact is, I may not have daily time to myself in the afternoon for many many years once this baby joins us, and I am beginning to feel terrified about that. Just going from two naps to one with Addy was a big adjustment for me- I used to shower and do my hair during the morning nap, and then clean the house in the afternoon, or nap myself. And of course blog. Now, I almost always use her nap to squeeze in a nap myself. Cleaning has already shifted on the priority list.
Jim reminded me that I could always- gasp!- get up before the kids and shower and get ready early. Or plan some cleaning time in the morning, bright and early before breakfast! But I remember newborn days, and the way for months I had no schedule whatsoever and my days and nights blurred- things still got done, even sleeping, but all on Adelay's timetable, and I just revolved around it. Now there will be two different timetables I must work around, Addy's and the baby's, and I am feeling, selfishly and childishly, resentful of the squeezing out of my own personal timetable.
Last night I got out the photo albums from Adelay's first months, and remembered her sweet smell, her impossibly tiny little hands, and the way she would fall asleep on our shoulders and nap on our chests like a contented kitten. That helped a lot, remembering all the tender things about newborns instead of dwelling on the exhausting and overwhelming things.
But seriously, if anyone has any advice at all, even little things, about ways to adjust to a toddler and a baby without losing all order and sanity, feel free to pass it on.

Bad Day, Part Two

'Kay, well, almost immediately after posting my most recent complaint, fate decided to show me that things can always get worse. As I was turning from tying off a full bag of garbage to carry it to the garage, I must have forgotten to turn my leg with my hip, because my right kneecap slid off my knee to the side, pain shot through my leg, and I went crashing down to the floor on my side.
Now, this actually is not a new experience for me: I've had weak knees all my life. The ligaments around my kneecaps are too floppy and don't hold them in place well if I turn too suddenly or sharply. I've been in physical therapy for it, and was actually advised to have surgery back in high school, but was too wussy for that. Also, it was a good excuse not to play sports. But this knee thing hasn't happened for almost three years, so I kind of thought I had finally outgrown this problem or something. However, as we all know, pregnancy causes ALL your joints to loosen, not just your hips and pelvis, so even if I had outgrown the knee problem, I guess maybe the pregnancy aggravated it again.
Anyways, as I said, it hasn't happened for awhile. This time, it hurt a lot more than I remembered- in the past I used to shake it off and would be back on my feet in an hour. Today it is over twenty-four hours since I fell, and I still cannot bend my leg much or put full weight on it. Yesterday I couldn't do either at all. I had to be helped to the bathroom, and then pee standing up. (Every time I think I've lost the last shred of my dignity, I find out there are further layers to be stripped away.)
I called the hospital last night, when I realized the knee was much more swollen than it used to get, and also when I remembered that having a fall when pregnant is kind of a big deal. They told me to come in to the hospital, and to call my OB. So I called the doctor, and he told me to come in the morning for an ultrasound, but not to bother going to the hospital, because they'd just tell me to ice it and keep it elevated, which I was doing anyways. He advised that I make an appointment with my orthopedist instead.
So we went to the office this morning, after a completely awful night in which I had to sleep on the couch, but couldn't sleep on my side as usual because of the knee. Nor could I sleep flat on my back because- pregnant! No sleeping on your back after sixteen weeks! So I slept in a semi-reclining position with the help of pillows, and woke up almost every hour, longing for the morning.
Everything was fine in the old uterus, as I figured it was. I could feel lots of kicks during the night, so I assumed he was fine, but was happy to be reassured of it. I was not so happy to be reminded again that I should really see an orthopedist about the knee. Yay, I'm so sure physical therapy would really fit into my schedule of watching a toddler. But, one of our friends is a physical therapist, so I'm thinking of just asking him for the rehab exercises he would recommend for this type of injury. Maybe I can just do them at home.
So anyways. Luckily my mom was off work today, so after the appointment Addy and I camped out at my parent's house all day. I ate, slept (thanks to some Benadryl for the continuing sinus congestion,) and watched- what else?- Friends reruns and also some of the second season of Rome. Not too bad of a day, but I was very sick of being stuck on the couch with a stiff leg and a stuffy nose.
Oh, and did I mention that when I fell yesterday, we were in the process of leaving for my brother-in-law's birthday party? And that after the party, I was supposed to go to a play with Jim's mom and sister? And I had to miss both those things?
It was a BAD day, yesterday.

10 Quick, Easy Ways To A Pounding Migraine!

1. Wake up to see snow on the ground when it was a sunny 80 degrees two days ago.
2. Realize that you are not getting better, as you had thought, but that your throat hurts again and your sinuses are totally clogged. Enjoy the pain through your abdomen every time you cough thanks to a separated stomach muscle (ah, pregnancy!)
3. Decide to take your child to the mall to do some birthday shopping for a party tonight. Realize halfway there that the stroller is still in your garage, but decide to keep going and hope for the best.
4. Allow the fact that you should SO have gone back for the stroller to penetrate your stuffy, congested head about five minutes into the mall.
5. Enjoy the "lesser of two evils" decision you must make about every five minutes: let Addy walk, and thereby accomplish nothing at all but to chase her around, or carry her, and endure the sore tummy and sheen of cold sweat which you will get for your troubles. This option, too, leaves you accomplishing very little.
6. Stop at Subway to eat because you're getting shaky, but foolishly assume that your child will be happy with her sippy cup, and fail to order her her own drink WITH A STRAW. Eat your lunch quickly and miserably as your kid screams every five seconds for a drink FROM THE STRAW and throws your chips everywhere.
7. Enjoy the looks from strangers as your kid pulls things off their shelves and runs away from you, yelling, "Nooo, Mommmy, nooo!" Wonder if perhaps your parenting skills leave something to be desired.
8. Wonder for the hundredth time why you didn't take some pregnancy-approved Sudafed before you left for this ill-conceived errand.
9. Briefly ponder purchasing an umbrella stroller- surely it is worth the fifteen bucks at this point. Put Addy in one for a test run, but she screams her head off and violently pounds her head against it. You realize it is too late for a stroller. It is time to go home.
10. Get home, feed the kid lunch, and put her to bed. Prepare lunch for husband, who is home SICK, and then prepare to leave for the grocery store, blessedly alone. Hear Addy on the monitor, NOT sleeping. Wish fervently for a brick wall to pound your head against.

Another Poll

Names again. I really am itching to get this whole name thing nailed down, for some reason. Now that we know the sex, it seems there's no excuse not to be calling this child by his name.
So here's the new addition to the list: Beckham. Or possibly Beckett. Anyone like it? Anyone hate it? And yes, we'd probably call him Beck for short.

Further Complaints About Naps

Blech, I think I'm getting sick. Addy was a little sickly the last few days with a cold, and now my throat hurts and I feel like I have the chills even though it's very warm and pretty outside today. I fought it for awhile today and tried to pretend I wasn't feeling bad- we went to the park and played outside. Had to take advantage of the weather since it's supposed to SNOW later this week!! Then we got home and Adelay actually ate most of her lunch, and tried some new fruits, so that made me really happy.
Then I tucked her in for a nap, thinking, She'll be so tired after all that outdoor time, and tucked myself down for a nap in the next room. But she never slept at all! Just played with her Baby Leapfrog toy for awhile, then started jumping and yelling. After a half hour of kind of sleeping, kind of listening to her, I was getting that crazed, hallucinating sensation, so I eventually gave up and put her in the play yard with a movie and some snacks, then sneaked back to bed. Thank goodness for Baby Einstein! She played for about an hour in there with nary a peep, so I think I did get some sleep after all. And now I must go because my nose is running. Grrr.
Okay, and I'm back. Has anyone noticed that my posts are getting shorter and more scatterbrained lately? And that they have mostly to do with food or napping? I feel like that pregnant brain thing is hitting me. I have this theory that being pregnant makes you act like an infant yourself for awhile. You suddenly care only about eating and sleeping, require both these things far more frequently than you ordinarily would, and become very angry indeed when these needs are not met.
I don't know if any of you try to envision your invisible blogger friends, but for the next four to five months, you can just imagine me lurching toward either the bedroom or the kitchen pretty much every two hours on the hour, looking grim and purposeful.