...I took the advise of several of you and midway through today, put the kid in a Pull Up. He'd already had one accident, and by the second, which was sudden and messy and running down his leg and onto the carpet AND the hardwood AND the bathmat oh dear Lord, I had had enough. I was also starting to wise up to the fact that maybe the stomach virus was NOT gone and now was not a good time to be working on Number Two Issues anyways.
Boy, was I right. Or should I say, you were right. It happened again during dinner, but at least this time, just as I started to feel my heart racing with the fight or flight response I always get before dealing with messy disasters, I remembered that lo! He was essentially wearing a diaper, and all I had to do was unsnap, wipe, and throw away. It felt like a downright LUXURY, I tell you.
And the fact that changing a diaper containing the results of a stomach virus could feel LUXURIOUS is something that has me a little concerned about how low I've fallen in this world. Next I'll be posting to let you know about the dee-lishus pizza remains I found in the neighbor's garbage! Score!
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Sometimes
There are afternoons when I dream of running away from my house so badly I can taste it. It's the worst on weekends, and I know this is something many moms complain of- there is no relaxation to look forward to at the end of the week, just more of the same, along with the added chaos of extra people and extra plans and messed up schedules and so, most likely, a messier house and even whinier children than during the rest of the week. Sometimes its fine, and its still fun, and I go with the flow...
And sometimes I am very nearly six months pregnant, and I am hungry all the time but then every time I eat I get heartburn. Or I am tired all the time but every time I lay down either the heartburn makes it impossible or my hips start screaming in protest no matter which side I lay on. And often the house is an unthinkable disaster, but either my own inward voice or another person starts scolding me when I try to clean and tidy it because I shouldn't be exerting too much. But the idea of living this way, with dishes and laundry and toys always threatening to overwhelm, is enough to make me sit down at the table and just weep in despair. Literally.
Also, sometimes a certain child is completely potty trained in one regard and not even close to being potty trained in another, more disgusting, regard, but it's too late to switch him back to diapers. And so, one waits, every day, to see when the inevitable mess will happen and just how bad it will be. After two or three weeks of this, including several out of town ventures, it will start to feel like you are just waiting to get BEATEN every day, and you and your husband are just taking turns volunteering for the abuse. Though, let's face it, more often than not it is going to be you. You are here. You are always always here.
You are here when in one single half hour, one kid poops his pants, another needs help on the toilet, poopy kid gets cleaned up and then decided to try to actually use the potty for its intended purpose, toilet kid CLOGS the toilet, poopy kid poops again, this time in proper receptacle, and you, while trying to lavish the appropriate amounts of praise for a Potty Success, realize you need to EMPTY that potty but that you first have to plunge the normal potty, all with a wide eyed and curious audience, and you yourself haven't even eaten breakfast yet and are beginning to want to eat less and less...
Sometimes you feel like if you hear a little voice yelling, or whining, or shrieking in panic "Hey Mommy!" one single more time you are going to cry. Sometimes you do cry, and are in fact crying as you tend to them (the need almost always involving someone needing something WIPED, of course) and the horrifying part is that no one even notices that you're crying. Partly you feel relieved that you haven't upset them, and partly this makes you want to cry even harder because you realize that you spend the bulk of your time with people who are basically oblivious to your needs and feelings. It never occurs to them that YOU might need to eat or sleep or use the bathroom, much less that you might be tired and in pain and overwhelmed.
Then your baby will stir in your belly and you feel so terrible that most of what this kid has heard and felt today from you is negative. You snapping, you sighing, you sniffling. Surely this cannot be a healthy way to gestate your child, but the problem is that it's the gestating itself that is making so much of your day to day life feel so daunting.
AND sometimes you flee to the computer as soon as both the kids are finally otherwise occupied and you hurriedly ramble out your current misery and then you feel the tiniest bit better, though still wobbly and weepy. You look around and still see a house whose every surface needs wiped and picked up. You know there's still a car seat cover that needs dried and reattached after being subjected to a Horrifying Accident last night, along with a multitude of normal laundry loads, and you know there are still plates and cups and random clumps of eggs and cheese and dirty napkins all over the kitchen. You also know that you're exhausted and should really just nap, but that when you tried to lay down with your daughter your cranky cranky hips made it impossible to do so.
And so. You will take a deep breath, and put on some music,and maybe eat a bag of peanut M and M's that were supposed to be your husband's but forget him because you snooze you lose and you will, as Swistle once put it, make that Journey of A Thousand Loads of Laundry that begins with a single paper towel. You will, pathetically, hope that someone somewhere is feeling sorry for you, just a little.
Edit: ...And sometimes you feel kind of bad about eating husband's M and M's, when he brings you home a bag with like TEN candy bars in it because he wasn't sure what you might like to make you feel better.
And sometimes I am very nearly six months pregnant, and I am hungry all the time but then every time I eat I get heartburn. Or I am tired all the time but every time I lay down either the heartburn makes it impossible or my hips start screaming in protest no matter which side I lay on. And often the house is an unthinkable disaster, but either my own inward voice or another person starts scolding me when I try to clean and tidy it because I shouldn't be exerting too much. But the idea of living this way, with dishes and laundry and toys always threatening to overwhelm, is enough to make me sit down at the table and just weep in despair. Literally.
Also, sometimes a certain child is completely potty trained in one regard and not even close to being potty trained in another, more disgusting, regard, but it's too late to switch him back to diapers. And so, one waits, every day, to see when the inevitable mess will happen and just how bad it will be. After two or three weeks of this, including several out of town ventures, it will start to feel like you are just waiting to get BEATEN every day, and you and your husband are just taking turns volunteering for the abuse. Though, let's face it, more often than not it is going to be you. You are here. You are always always here.
You are here when in one single half hour, one kid poops his pants, another needs help on the toilet, poopy kid gets cleaned up and then decided to try to actually use the potty for its intended purpose, toilet kid CLOGS the toilet, poopy kid poops again, this time in proper receptacle, and you, while trying to lavish the appropriate amounts of praise for a Potty Success, realize you need to EMPTY that potty but that you first have to plunge the normal potty, all with a wide eyed and curious audience, and you yourself haven't even eaten breakfast yet and are beginning to want to eat less and less...
Sometimes you feel like if you hear a little voice yelling, or whining, or shrieking in panic "Hey Mommy!" one single more time you are going to cry. Sometimes you do cry, and are in fact crying as you tend to them (the need almost always involving someone needing something WIPED, of course) and the horrifying part is that no one even notices that you're crying. Partly you feel relieved that you haven't upset them, and partly this makes you want to cry even harder because you realize that you spend the bulk of your time with people who are basically oblivious to your needs and feelings. It never occurs to them that YOU might need to eat or sleep or use the bathroom, much less that you might be tired and in pain and overwhelmed.
Then your baby will stir in your belly and you feel so terrible that most of what this kid has heard and felt today from you is negative. You snapping, you sighing, you sniffling. Surely this cannot be a healthy way to gestate your child, but the problem is that it's the gestating itself that is making so much of your day to day life feel so daunting.
AND sometimes you flee to the computer as soon as both the kids are finally otherwise occupied and you hurriedly ramble out your current misery and then you feel the tiniest bit better, though still wobbly and weepy. You look around and still see a house whose every surface needs wiped and picked up. You know there's still a car seat cover that needs dried and reattached after being subjected to a Horrifying Accident last night, along with a multitude of normal laundry loads, and you know there are still plates and cups and random clumps of eggs and cheese and dirty napkins all over the kitchen. You also know that you're exhausted and should really just nap, but that when you tried to lay down with your daughter your cranky cranky hips made it impossible to do so.
And so. You will take a deep breath, and put on some music,
Edit: ...And sometimes you feel kind of bad about eating husband's M and M's, when he brings you home a bag with like TEN candy bars in it because he wasn't sure what you might like to make you feel better.
Friday, June 25, 2010
FTLOG
Ok. Ok ok ok. So we got home from family reunion, which was lovely EXCEPT for falling into a river and spending the subsequent two hours with a bunch of wet, pissed off people whose lunches were floating upstream and EXCEPT for the part where Eli had Horrifying Accidents of a Solid Nature in his underpants about a gazillionty times in a relative's lovely, clean home. And we had one phone lost and one phone sort of clinging to life and four different keys to have made, and amazingly all of that got taken care of pretty quickly and smoothly and I was all, "Nice recovery, family unit!"
And then. And then in one single day: the phone that was valiantly soldiering on completely gave up the ghost, rendering it useless even for contact list retrieval (!!!); I brilliantly tried to put CORN HUSKS down the garbage disposal and completely clogged out entire sink system, including the (single) bathtub/shower, which is currently a swamp of murky water with random corn silk balls bobbing despondently therein; and Eli developed some mysterious stomach ailment just as I took the kids over to my parents' house to bathe, which led him (omg omg omg) to POOP on their WHITE FRESHLY STEAM CLEANED CARPET twice. omg omg omg.
It was so bad, you guys. And thank heavens it was obviously scotch guarded or something, because I couldn't believe I got those stains out. I was seriously SWEATING in panic, while the previously potty trained boy was running around in diapers for the first time in about three weeks and doubtless ruining all his progress.
Arrgh. So to sum up: piles of dishes, including a crock pot of barbecued ribs, which have sat untouched by dishwasher for two days; an impressive number of soiled and/or ruined underpants which REE-HEALLY need laundered; and a ticking time bomb of a toddler sipping on Pedialyte. So I may as well just say it and get it over with: after five days of attempting to swish/soak/rinse fecal matter out of underpants in the toilet (after getting very tired of just throwing them away following such an accident) I think I have decided I may not be cut out for cloth diapering after all. Don't judge me, great internet.
Oh, and I just stepped into a pile of slimy regurgitated weeds courtesy of the dog. Of course I did.
And then. And then in one single day: the phone that was valiantly soldiering on completely gave up the ghost, rendering it useless even for contact list retrieval (!!!); I brilliantly tried to put CORN HUSKS down the garbage disposal and completely clogged out entire sink system, including the (single) bathtub/shower, which is currently a swamp of murky water with random corn silk balls bobbing despondently therein; and Eli developed some mysterious stomach ailment just as I took the kids over to my parents' house to bathe, which led him (omg omg omg) to POOP on their WHITE FRESHLY STEAM CLEANED CARPET twice. omg omg omg.
It was so bad, you guys. And thank heavens it was obviously scotch guarded or something, because I couldn't believe I got those stains out. I was seriously SWEATING in panic, while the previously potty trained boy was running around in diapers for the first time in about three weeks and doubtless ruining all his progress.
Arrgh. So to sum up: piles of dishes, including a crock pot of barbecued ribs, which have sat untouched by dishwasher for two days; an impressive number of soiled and/or ruined underpants which REE-HEALLY need laundered; and a ticking time bomb of a toddler sipping on Pedialyte. So I may as well just say it and get it over with: after five days of attempting to swish/soak/rinse fecal matter out of underpants in the toilet (after getting very tired of just throwing them away following such an accident) I think I have decided I may not be cut out for cloth diapering after all. Don't judge me, great internet.
Oh, and I just stepped into a pile of slimy regurgitated weeds courtesy of the dog. Of course I did.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Lessons from the Weekend
Hey! Did you know that if you happen to completely submerge your cell phone in water- say, just for a random example, by flipping out of a canoe while the phone is in your pocket- you can take the phone apart, put it in a bag of rice, and it may SORT of come back to life? With a weird upside down, funkily colored screen that reads backwards, but that the nice cell phone store people can hopefully at least extract the contact list from?
Now you know. Bag of rice.
And also! Maybe next time keep your phone in a plastic bag when BOATING, you genius. Just a thought.
Now you know. Bag of rice.
And also! Maybe next time keep your phone in a plastic bag when BOATING, you genius. Just a thought.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
More Crunchy, Attachment Parenting Type Advice Needed!
Well, you all made me feel a lot better about the prospect of cloth diapering, so, thanks a lot. Still not sure about which brand to go with, but I really liked the idea of ordering that newborn started pack thing-ie which lets you try several brands out and decide which you prefer. And then you get to send it back and pay only shipping or something?! Anyways, that sounds great. I'm still a little icked out by the whole "disposing of solids" part of the process, but whatevs. Diapering is just gross any way you do it, really, and I do think having a bag of wet diapers sounds less disgusting overall than a pail of wrapped up fecal matter rotting away.
I do think we'll take disposables with us when we're out and about, though. Not because having plastic bags and bringing home the wet ones sounds super difficult or anything, but because I am VERY bad about forgetting to pack things and also forgetting to bring stuff back into the house (like sippee cups, for instance.) So I can totally see how I'd end up out with a dirty diaper and no sack to bring it home, or, if I did remember the sack, I'd then forget to bring it into the HOUSE in the chaos of getting three kids in the door, and then there'd be rotting wet linens sitting in the hot car for a full day.
Anyways, since y'all are so handy with the advice, maybe you can help me out again here? The sling I used with Eli got recalled recently (Infantino brand) and so now I'm in the market for a new one. Ideas? Brands to avoid?
I do think we'll take disposables with us when we're out and about, though. Not because having plastic bags and bringing home the wet ones sounds super difficult or anything, but because I am VERY bad about forgetting to pack things and also forgetting to bring stuff back into the house (like sippee cups, for instance.) So I can totally see how I'd end up out with a dirty diaper and no sack to bring it home, or, if I did remember the sack, I'd then forget to bring it into the HOUSE in the chaos of getting three kids in the door, and then there'd be rotting wet linens sitting in the hot car for a full day.
Anyways, since y'all are so handy with the advice, maybe you can help me out again here? The sling I used with Eli got recalled recently (Infantino brand) and so now I'm in the market for a new one. Ideas? Brands to avoid?
Monday, June 14, 2010
Au Revoir, Parent's Choice Diapers
I WILL miss the storage uses of your jumbo boxes, but Mr. Elias has decided he doesn't need you anymore. Well, he'd kind of like to keep pooping in you, but he has reluctantly reached the conclusion that once you're in underwear, you can't demand a diaper solely to.... Well anyways. Enough said. But how awesome is this!? The kid just woke up and decided to wear underwear and has had like a total of TWO pee accidents in five days. That's pretty remarkable, no? He's even been fine out and in public, with the exception of a disastrous playdate with our neighbors that ended in him and me rushing back to our house for a quick BATH and a change of clean clothes. Like I said, less enthusiastic about using that potty for number two than number one. But we're getting there, and he is not even three yet, and also the whole child-led potty training thing actually does WORK for some kids! Before they're five years old! How 'bout that?! (Today, knock on wood, there have been ZERO accidents of either kind, a successful, uh, deposit on the potty, AND a trip to Dairy Queen in which he even used the regular old toilet without qualms! And WHY am I still talking about this? Good grief, parenting makes you way too invested in other people's eating and eliminating habits.)
Also in diaper news: I think we might be cloth diapering this one. Gulp. Now that I've actually said it out loud to several people, I feel scared. Can't back down now, or those wadded plastic, two-hundred-years-to-decompose diapers are going to feel even worse on my conscience. But! I've never done it before! And we only have one bathroom! And how can I possibly do this without it being REVOLTING? Don't you need, like, a whole room of your house devoted to haz-mat once you decide to cloth diaper?!
Well. First can those of you who do cloth diaper or who have in the past, tell me exactly, step by step how you go about it and what supplies you need? And maybe give me brand recommendations and tell me how many I need of each size and all that? Oh, AND make the whole laundering part of it magically seem less daunting?
Also in diaper news: I think we might be cloth diapering this one. Gulp. Now that I've actually said it out loud to several people, I feel scared. Can't back down now, or those wadded plastic, two-hundred-years-to-decompose diapers are going to feel even worse on my conscience. But! I've never done it before! And we only have one bathroom! And how can I possibly do this without it being REVOLTING? Don't you need, like, a whole room of your house devoted to haz-mat once you decide to cloth diaper?!
Well. First can those of you who do cloth diaper or who have in the past, tell me exactly, step by step how you go about it and what supplies you need? And maybe give me brand recommendations and tell me how many I need of each size and all that? Oh, AND make the whole laundering part of it magically seem less daunting?
Sunday, June 13, 2010
From The Mouths Of Babes
The other day I was at the playground with my friend, her kids and her niece, whom she's babysitting during the summer. I hadn't seen Lily for awhile and said hi, while Jess asked, "Did you know Sarah was going to have a baby?"
Lily nodded sagely. "Yeah, I could tell."
I beamed, for it's just been in the last few weeks that strangers have begun to notice my pregnancy as obvious enough to comment upon. I expected her to say something about my bigger belly, but instead, she continued in explanation:
"She keeps pulling up her pants. I've noticed pregnant ladies' pants are always falling down."
Lily nodded sagely. "Yeah, I could tell."
I beamed, for it's just been in the last few weeks that strangers have begun to notice my pregnancy as obvious enough to comment upon. I expected her to say something about my bigger belly, but instead, she continued in explanation:
"She keeps pulling up her pants. I've noticed pregnant ladies' pants are always falling down."
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Results!
Okay, so yesterday was a VERY good day, in spite of pouring rain the entire drive to the specialist's office and also taking the wrong exit and ending up on the completely wrong side of town. Because! No clots! The sonographer did the longest, most thorough ultrasound EVER and assured us that the dark spots looked like "venous lakes" which are pooling of blood or fluid and, while they should be monitored, are almost always nothing. In occasional cases they can lead to fetal growth restriction, so the doctor recommended that my OB here in town continue to check the baby each month with ultrasound to make sure he's still growing well, but other than that, business as usual!
Obviously, we are extremely relieved. The doctor and sonographer both were all breezy about it, and both basically said, "Oh, this is really not that uncommon- we see it a lot here because sometimes regular OB's and sonographers don't recognize them or their machines aren't high enough resolution to tell the difference between these and more serious problems. But it's almost definitely nothing to worry about!" So yeah, big sigh of relief. I feel like I'm out of mental limbo and can start planning for this real, live, baby boy (weighing in at fifteen ounces and currently sitting in a breech position on my bladder, in case anyone's interested) to be here in about four months.
I still have to TAKE IT EASY, though. Bah. I was having tons of really painful Braxton Hicks during the drive and even throughout the ultrasound, so the doctor had the sonographer measure my cervix, and it was RIGHT at the cusp of still being long enough. Like, anything under thirty mm they worry about, and mine was exactly thirty. So, you know, we should definitely be trying to keep the contracting to a minimum. Guess I'll just have to delegate anything strenuous to other people! Darn!
Obviously, we are extremely relieved. The doctor and sonographer both were all breezy about it, and both basically said, "Oh, this is really not that uncommon- we see it a lot here because sometimes regular OB's and sonographers don't recognize them or their machines aren't high enough resolution to tell the difference between these and more serious problems. But it's almost definitely nothing to worry about!" So yeah, big sigh of relief. I feel like I'm out of mental limbo and can start planning for this real, live, baby boy (weighing in at fifteen ounces and currently sitting in a breech position on my bladder, in case anyone's interested) to be here in about four months.
I still have to TAKE IT EASY, though. Bah. I was having tons of really painful Braxton Hicks during the drive and even throughout the ultrasound, so the doctor had the sonographer measure my cervix, and it was RIGHT at the cusp of still being long enough. Like, anything under thirty mm they worry about, and mine was exactly thirty. So, you know, we should definitely be trying to keep the contracting to a minimum. Guess I'll just have to delegate anything strenuous to other people! Darn!
Monday, June 07, 2010
The Briefest Movie Reviews Ever
Sex and the City Two: possibly the worst movie I've ever seen. If you liked the show at all, spare yourself and skip it. It's like finding out that an ex boyfriend whom you remember fondly as being sweet and clever and funny is now living on the street, unwashed and gaunt and selling sexual favors for heroin. It's really really bad. I don't understand how the writers and producers from the first movie could have had any hand in the second. Did they, even? I didn't exactly research it or anything before I saw it (obviously, or I would NOT have seen it.)
Robin Hood: worth watching, at least, and an interesting take on an old story. I liked it, though I would definitely have included more shirtless scenes of Russell Crowe if I had been in charge of that film. WHAT were they thinking? I also liked Cate Blanchett as Maid Marian. An interesting remake of a character who is usually bland and feminine and otherwise nondescript. My only complaint is that the ending felt very rushed and choppy- Jim and I kept looking at each other and going, "Wait, did we just miss a scene or something? Is this film messing up?" So that sucked. But I'll definitely want to see the sequel, as opposed to the above movie. Wouldn't see another film in that series if you offered me a lifetime supply of Prada.
Robin Hood: worth watching, at least, and an interesting take on an old story. I liked it, though I would definitely have included more shirtless scenes of Russell Crowe if I had been in charge of that film. WHAT were they thinking? I also liked Cate Blanchett as Maid Marian. An interesting remake of a character who is usually bland and feminine and otherwise nondescript. My only complaint is that the ending felt very rushed and choppy- Jim and I kept looking at each other and going, "Wait, did we just miss a scene or something? Is this film messing up?" So that sucked. But I'll definitely want to see the sequel, as opposed to the above movie. Wouldn't see another film in that series if you offered me a lifetime supply of Prada.
Saturday, June 05, 2010
Attack of the Killer Ants
Today has been one disgusting fire to put out after another- and let's see, it's only nine am, so I'm thinking I should just go hide back in bed right now before this day goes even further downhill. The nastiness technically started last night, but it was around one in the morning, so I'm counting it in with today's lineup to make it a tidier little sum of misery. Also, it'll sound more overwhelming and evoke more sympathy. So, last night's problem: invasion of killer ants.
A little background is that I was eating tortilla chips and hummus, watching stand up comedy and laughing so hard I actually thought I... burst a muscle in my stomach, or something. I can't describe it exactly, but it felt like my lower abdominals actually snapped. Round ligament pain coupled with a two week long, racking cough can really wreak havoc on the 'ole abs. Can't wait to see my belly after this kid finally emerges!
Anyhoos, when finished with the hummus, I sat the bag of chips on the floor next to the couch, opening standing straight up, and forgot about them until it was time to go to bed. During this interval, I kept feeling itchy and slapping at my arms and ankles, but figured I was just feeling fidgety because all the laughing really woke me up and I always get all twitchy when I'm watching TV but feeling wide awake.
Fast forward to one. I stand up, pick up the bag of chips, shuffle off to the kitchen where the light is on, and realize that the entire bag, inside and out, is crawling with ants. And that there were also not a few ants swarming the couch where I had just been sitting, absentmindedly slapping at my "phantom" itchiness.
I can't even describe to you the screaming and throwing of items across the room and possible swear words and yelling for Jim to rescue me that went on. It was pretty embarrassing given that they WERE just ants and not, say, killer scorpions. But there were a LOT. We ended up pulling the couch out, dust bustering up an ungodly amount of ants, finding a piece of cereal which seemed to be drawing them, and then putting down ant traps to try to lure the ant line to their death rather than to our food containers.
By we I mostly mean Jim. My main contribution was hopping around, shrieking, and remembering where the ant traps were. And then hopping around some more, reliving the situation and hyperventilating and going on and on about how much I hate bugs.
Then this morning there was: a bag of nasty garbage torn open all over the garage, presumably by a RACCOON; a refrigerator which I suddenly realized was full of horrifyingly old leftovers and random unused produce and OMG cleaning that Tupperware out was maybe more shudder-worthy than the ant attack; a runaway dog, and of course it stormed last night and so he returned wet and muddy; and finally, discovered while cleaning out the nasty leftovers, the underside of a sink strainer so disgusting I had to scrub it off BEFORE I could put it in the dishwasher to sanitize. And a dirty diaper change thrown in just for good measure.
HAPPY WEEKEND TO ME.
A little background is that I was eating tortilla chips and hummus, watching stand up comedy and laughing so hard I actually thought I... burst a muscle in my stomach, or something. I can't describe it exactly, but it felt like my lower abdominals actually snapped. Round ligament pain coupled with a two week long, racking cough can really wreak havoc on the 'ole abs. Can't wait to see my belly after this kid finally emerges!
Anyhoos, when finished with the hummus, I sat the bag of chips on the floor next to the couch, opening standing straight up, and forgot about them until it was time to go to bed. During this interval, I kept feeling itchy and slapping at my arms and ankles, but figured I was just feeling fidgety because all the laughing really woke me up and I always get all twitchy when I'm watching TV but feeling wide awake.
Fast forward to one. I stand up, pick up the bag of chips, shuffle off to the kitchen where the light is on, and realize that the entire bag, inside and out, is crawling with ants. And that there were also not a few ants swarming the couch where I had just been sitting, absentmindedly slapping at my "phantom" itchiness.
I can't even describe to you the screaming and throwing of items across the room and possible swear words and yelling for Jim to rescue me that went on. It was pretty embarrassing given that they WERE just ants and not, say, killer scorpions. But there were a LOT. We ended up pulling the couch out, dust bustering up an ungodly amount of ants, finding a piece of cereal which seemed to be drawing them, and then putting down ant traps to try to lure the ant line to their death rather than to our food containers.
By we I mostly mean Jim. My main contribution was hopping around, shrieking, and remembering where the ant traps were. And then hopping around some more, reliving the situation and hyperventilating and going on and on about how much I hate bugs.
Then this morning there was: a bag of nasty garbage torn open all over the garage, presumably by a RACCOON; a refrigerator which I suddenly realized was full of horrifyingly old leftovers and random unused produce and OMG cleaning that Tupperware out was maybe more shudder-worthy than the ant attack; a runaway dog, and of course it stormed last night and so he returned wet and muddy; and finally, discovered while cleaning out the nasty leftovers, the underside of a sink strainer so disgusting I had to scrub it off BEFORE I could put it in the dishwasher to sanitize. And a dirty diaper change thrown in just for good measure.
HAPPY WEEKEND TO ME.
Thursday, June 03, 2010
Sad/Sulk
I'm feeling very cranky the last two days. Well, pissy actually. That would be a more accurate word. Cranky sounds like a kid who missed his nap. I feel a little more like a kid who just had someone come along and steal their ice cream cone or something. I sort of want to punch someone. I keep getting irrationally angry about things like laundry left too long in the washer, to the point of throwing said laundry and then bursting into tears of frustration. I feel like I am stuck in some kind of terrible inertia, wandering around grumpily and spinning my wheels while accomplishing nothing of either housework or good parenting. We returned home from Canada late Sunday night, and it has taken me until this morning to get all the laundry finished up and put away. Don't even ask about the state of the rest of the house, but I just can't seem to care.
I don't know. I know it's normal to be worried until we find out for sure what's going on. I have cried about it like three times already, and I'm not really a crier. I just keep hearing the doctor's voice saying, "Now, this doesn't mean you're definitely going to lose your baby or anything..." And me thinking, "But it is a possibility. You're bringing it up, so that means it's possible." But I can't even think about that too deeply. I keep telling myself that the WORST case scenario would just be that the baby would have to be delivered early, via C-section, and that he'd be in the NICU for awhile and/or would be underweight from intrauterine growth restriction.
Even that is pretty awful to consider right now, but as long as he makes it and we get to take him home I think I'm not going to care too much about the other stuff. And obviously I'm hoping that none of that happens and that somehow this stuff just... resolves itself, I guess, and the baby will be fine and go to term. I just feel so mad still that this is even happening, and that finding out about it kind of ruined the fun of finding out the sex of the baby for me.
I just want so badly to know if something is seriously wrong or not. I want so badly for some kind of guarantee that if I do x and x then the baby will be ok. I want to stop feeling like the universe is totally against me having children and is constantly trying to thwart things, or that I am just genuinely terrible at gestating babies and that we would be better off hiring a surrogate if we ever have more.
Hmm, wallowing in self pity much? I know, I need to snap out of it. For the other kids' sake if not for myself. I did feel a lot better last night after talking to some friends, and making light of some of the otherwise depressing doctoral orders, such as (please look away if you're squeamish and/or related to me) forbidding me to have an orgasm until the baby is born. Yep. The fun just never ends. Since my uterus is kind of irritable and the Braxton Hicks are continuing to come rather painfully on a regular basis and since we're going to have enough early labor problems to contend with if the placenta starts deteriorating, she said I shouldn't do anything that would trigger contractions, and that orgasm was one of the things I should specifically avoid. I can't wait to break THIS one out in about fifteen years: "Son, you had better not give me grief about this! You know what I gave up for YOU while I was pregnant?!"
I don't know. I know it's normal to be worried until we find out for sure what's going on. I have cried about it like three times already, and I'm not really a crier. I just keep hearing the doctor's voice saying, "Now, this doesn't mean you're definitely going to lose your baby or anything..." And me thinking, "But it is a possibility. You're bringing it up, so that means it's possible." But I can't even think about that too deeply. I keep telling myself that the WORST case scenario would just be that the baby would have to be delivered early, via C-section, and that he'd be in the NICU for awhile and/or would be underweight from intrauterine growth restriction.
Even that is pretty awful to consider right now, but as long as he makes it and we get to take him home I think I'm not going to care too much about the other stuff. And obviously I'm hoping that none of that happens and that somehow this stuff just... resolves itself, I guess, and the baby will be fine and go to term. I just feel so mad still that this is even happening, and that finding out about it kind of ruined the fun of finding out the sex of the baby for me.
I just want so badly to know if something is seriously wrong or not. I want so badly for some kind of guarantee that if I do x and x then the baby will be ok. I want to stop feeling like the universe is totally against me having children and is constantly trying to thwart things, or that I am just genuinely terrible at gestating babies and that we would be better off hiring a surrogate if we ever have more.
Hmm, wallowing in self pity much? I know, I need to snap out of it. For the other kids' sake if not for myself. I did feel a lot better last night after talking to some friends, and making light of some of the otherwise depressing doctoral orders, such as (please look away if you're squeamish and/or related to me) forbidding me to have an orgasm until the baby is born. Yep. The fun just never ends. Since my uterus is kind of irritable and the Braxton Hicks are continuing to come rather painfully on a regular basis and since we're going to have enough early labor problems to contend with if the placenta starts deteriorating, she said I shouldn't do anything that would trigger contractions, and that orgasm was one of the things I should specifically avoid. I can't wait to break THIS one out in about fifteen years: "Son, you had better not give me grief about this! You know what I gave up for YOU while I was pregnant?!"
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Houston, We Have A....
Boy! Absolutely, definitely, no doubt about it, would've been able to figure it out ourselves without the help of the tech, boy! The weird thing is, I kinda thought I wanted a girl, and if I would have had to guess based on how I was carrying and on pregnancy similiarities with Addy and Eli, I would have guessed girl. Yet I felt completely unsurprised and totally thrilled when she told us it was a boy, so there you go. It kind of felt like the same reaction I had when Addy came out and was a girl, after nine months of not knowing. I kept saying, "I KNEW you were a girl!" Even though I hadn't KNOWN, of course. But it felt right. And it feels right that this one is a boy.
The ultrasound was not completely a pleasure, though, unfortunately. The tech didn't say anything to us about a problem, but once I got back to the exam room to talk to the doctor, it turned out there was some issues with the placenta. There is a large patch with three dark spots, and basically they're either bleeds or blood clots. Blood clots definitely being the worst scenario, obviously. Don't even google "blood clots in placenta." Not reassuring. There's very little hard medical information, just a whole lot of scary stories about babies dying or having to be born very prematurely because their placentas stop functioning.
So. My doctor wants me to stop taking the baby aspirin for two weeks and then do a follow up ultrasound, to see if that seems to shrink the spots, in which case she'd assume the problem was bleeding and if it looked the same or worse, we'd assume clots. I, however (and Jim) are not too comfortable with waiting two weeks. I'm especially not comfortable with taking a chance that it's "just bleeding" when if it is in fact clots, stopping the aspirin would be the WORST thing to do.
Anyways, after a frustrating afternoon, we decided to call back and ask for a referral or a second opinion or something. Something more than just wait and see, when every day the clots, if they are clots, could be getting more and more dangerous to the baby's health. So we're seeing a maternal-fetal specialist in Columbus next week, and (I think) getting a Level II ultrasound, which is supposed to be a lot more helpful for diagnosing intra-uterine problems like this. If they are in fact clots, I'll probably being starting the dreaded Lovenox injections after all. And, you know, wishing I'd been doing them from the beginning. Except that then that would've probably caused a miscarriage because of that subchorionic hematoma...
Well. Pregnancy. It sure is a fun, uncomplicated, guilt-free ride! Certainly doesn't bring to mind the expression, "Damned if you do and damned if you don't" or anything!
But anyways, sweet little thumb-sucking boy is safe and sound in there for now, and we are very happy about that part. I took the kids therapy shopping today and we bought him a little car sleeper and a tiny pair of Robeez and that made me feel a wee bit better. I also really want to get him named. I have this irrational idea that once he has a name, he can't possibly leave us. That a name will keep him safe.
The ultrasound was not completely a pleasure, though, unfortunately. The tech didn't say anything to us about a problem, but once I got back to the exam room to talk to the doctor, it turned out there was some issues with the placenta. There is a large patch with three dark spots, and basically they're either bleeds or blood clots. Blood clots definitely being the worst scenario, obviously. Don't even google "blood clots in placenta." Not reassuring. There's very little hard medical information, just a whole lot of scary stories about babies dying or having to be born very prematurely because their placentas stop functioning.
So. My doctor wants me to stop taking the baby aspirin for two weeks and then do a follow up ultrasound, to see if that seems to shrink the spots, in which case she'd assume the problem was bleeding and if it looked the same or worse, we'd assume clots. I, however (and Jim) are not too comfortable with waiting two weeks. I'm especially not comfortable with taking a chance that it's "just bleeding" when if it is in fact clots, stopping the aspirin would be the WORST thing to do.
Anyways, after a frustrating afternoon, we decided to call back and ask for a referral or a second opinion or something. Something more than just wait and see, when every day the clots, if they are clots, could be getting more and more dangerous to the baby's health. So we're seeing a maternal-fetal specialist in Columbus next week, and (I think) getting a Level II ultrasound, which is supposed to be a lot more helpful for diagnosing intra-uterine problems like this. If they are in fact clots, I'll probably being starting the dreaded Lovenox injections after all. And, you know, wishing I'd been doing them from the beginning. Except that then that would've probably caused a miscarriage because of that subchorionic hematoma...
Well. Pregnancy. It sure is a fun, uncomplicated, guilt-free ride! Certainly doesn't bring to mind the expression, "Damned if you do and damned if you don't" or anything!
But anyways, sweet little thumb-sucking boy is safe and sound in there for now, and we are very happy about that part. I took the kids therapy shopping today and we bought him a little car sleeper and a tiny pair of Robeez and that made me feel a wee bit better. I also really want to get him named. I have this irrational idea that once he has a name, he can't possibly leave us. That a name will keep him safe.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Coffee Has Turned On Me
Off to the Canada cottage this weekend, y'all! With three kids! Whee! (No, I'm not counting the one in mah belly. We're bringing along a cousin to help entertain the kiddos.) I'm pretty excited, though, despite the fact that kids will outnumber adults AND there will be a complete absence of wine spritzers or rum and Cokes in the afternoon.
And frankly, anything that involves busyness and activity is going to be a good thing for me right now even if it's not all fun and relaxation, 'cause I am so dang HEPPED UP about the ultrasound on Tuesday. Cannot wait. And I keep randomly worrying, too, that something will be wrong or whatevs. Weirdly I never worried about that with the other two, but now I keep thinking we'll go in and it'll turn out the kid has three arms or something. You know. Rational.
You know what is also not rational, or fair, not even one little bit? Lately caffeine either gives me a headache or makes me awake for about half an hour and then more sleepy than ever the rest of the day. I've been dabbling with caffeine consumption a little more than usual the last week, with iced coffee being my poison of choice. (Just the homemade kind, not the nasty syrupy McDonalds kind, lest you were judging me!) And while it tastes ever so heavenly going down, it isn't really working for me in the long run. Even the 200 mg or whatever it is you're allowed to have a day while pregnant seems to be too much of a shock to my system now that I'm used to having none at all. Boo double boo. Decaf just doesn't taste the same, it DOESN'T.
And frankly, anything that involves busyness and activity is going to be a good thing for me right now even if it's not all fun and relaxation, 'cause I am so dang HEPPED UP about the ultrasound on Tuesday. Cannot wait. And I keep randomly worrying, too, that something will be wrong or whatevs. Weirdly I never worried about that with the other two, but now I keep thinking we'll go in and it'll turn out the kid has three arms or something. You know. Rational.
You know what is also not rational, or fair, not even one little bit? Lately caffeine either gives me a headache or makes me awake for about half an hour and then more sleepy than ever the rest of the day. I've been dabbling with caffeine consumption a little more than usual the last week, with iced coffee being my poison of choice. (Just the homemade kind, not the nasty syrupy McDonalds kind, lest you were judging me!) And while it tastes ever so heavenly going down, it isn't really working for me in the long run. Even the 200 mg or whatever it is you're allowed to have a day while pregnant seems to be too much of a shock to my system now that I'm used to having none at all. Boo double boo. Decaf just doesn't taste the same, it DOESN'T.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
I'm Not Even Going To Try To Title This. Or Spell Check It, Apparently.
Arrg. Am I ever going to feel like writing again? (Answer: yes, as soon as the baby comes and I have 1) lots of adorable newborn pictures, 2) blow-by-blow Epic Five Page Birth Story, 3) some level of postpartum depression, 4) lots of panic/sleep deprivation/funny stories about how overwhelmed I am and how trashed our house is and how I haven't showered in two days.)
So until then, when things are relatively fine and I feel relatively fine and everything is calm and bright and all that jazz, I just don't seem to have much to say. Or it could be that this pregnancy has rendered me, while generally happy, utterly brain dead. Example:
Jim, last night while catching up on 24 episodes together: You know, we haven't played a game together in about four months.
Me, sprawled on couch, staring at TV: Yeah, I'm just always so tired and kind of mentally out of it by the time the kids are in bed.
Jim: Actually, that's why I brought it up. You had a REALLY brain dead look on your face just now. Like you were awake but really asleep.
I have been sick with stupid sinus/cough stuff again, though, so there's that excuse. Over a week now, and still not all the way gone. Also, there's some family stuff going on taking up most of my precious, carefully rationed mental energy, so for all I know I could be writing incomprehensible gibberish right now that just SOUNDS okay to me because I am operating on the level of a fifth grader writer right now. I am sorry, guys. I am very sorry. And my marriage blog! How it languishes! And I haven't even started the baby blog I was planning on! And worst of all, I've only written in my pregnancy journal ONCE! I am so lame.
But I'm also almost twenty weeks pregnant! I am getting super excited for that ultrasound next Tuesday. You're going to have to talk me off a serious ledge if for some reason they're unable to tell us the sex of this baby.
Oh, also, quick question before I go: do you guys think it would be totally stupid to switch practicioners this late in the game? Because I just found out there's a new OB practice in a neighboring town just about twenty minutes from our house, and they have two MIDWIVES! Which is what I've wanted ever since Eli's birth, but our town now has a grand total of zero so I thought I was SOL and just chose the OB practice that was all female. Is it worth at least talking to the midwives to see if their pregnancy/birth philosophies are really that much different and more in line with mine? Or is it just going to confuse everything way too much? I've already started paying on my overall OB bill for the delivery and everything, so that part would be a total mess, plus everyone at that office knows my medical history and everything, and they're really nice, even if they are prescription happy. Help!
So until then, when things are relatively fine and I feel relatively fine and everything is calm and bright and all that jazz, I just don't seem to have much to say. Or it could be that this pregnancy has rendered me, while generally happy, utterly brain dead. Example:
Jim, last night while catching up on 24 episodes together: You know, we haven't played a game together in about four months.
Me, sprawled on couch, staring at TV: Yeah, I'm just always so tired and kind of mentally out of it by the time the kids are in bed.
Jim: Actually, that's why I brought it up. You had a REALLY brain dead look on your face just now. Like you were awake but really asleep.
I have been sick with stupid sinus/cough stuff again, though, so there's that excuse. Over a week now, and still not all the way gone. Also, there's some family stuff going on taking up most of my precious, carefully rationed mental energy, so for all I know I could be writing incomprehensible gibberish right now that just SOUNDS okay to me because I am operating on the level of a fifth grader writer right now. I am sorry, guys. I am very sorry. And my marriage blog! How it languishes! And I haven't even started the baby blog I was planning on! And worst of all, I've only written in my pregnancy journal ONCE! I am so lame.
But I'm also almost twenty weeks pregnant! I am getting super excited for that ultrasound next Tuesday. You're going to have to talk me off a serious ledge if for some reason they're unable to tell us the sex of this baby.
Oh, also, quick question before I go: do you guys think it would be totally stupid to switch practicioners this late in the game? Because I just found out there's a new OB practice in a neighboring town just about twenty minutes from our house, and they have two MIDWIVES! Which is what I've wanted ever since Eli's birth, but our town now has a grand total of zero so I thought I was SOL and just chose the OB practice that was all female. Is it worth at least talking to the midwives to see if their pregnancy/birth philosophies are really that much different and more in line with mine? Or is it just going to confuse everything way too much? I've already started paying on my overall OB bill for the delivery and everything, so that part would be a total mess, plus everyone at that office knows my medical history and everything, and they're really nice, even if they are prescription happy. Help!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
600. Not Nearly As Awesome As The Cast Of 300.
Hey! This is my six hundredth post. How have I managed to write six hundred times and not yet say anything earth shaking or award winning? Who knew there was so very much banality floating around in my head, just waiting to escape into Teh Internetz?
For instance, this: last night I had a weird dream (I was dating an affluent young Vanderbilt who was also a drug dealer on the side, and who was beating me up every time I confronted him about the stash hidden under his bed. His younger brother, who was the black sheep of the family, witnessed one of these encounters and rescued me from evil boyfriend, and then spent the latter half of the dream basically stroking my hair and telling me how wonderful I was and how he and I would ride off into the sunset together as soon as I felt like climbing out of his arms and ending his monologue of sweet nothings.) WEIRD. But the end part left me feeling all warm and fuzzy, and then I woke up and realized there's a kid with a pee diaper in my bed, it's still raining and gloomy outside, my throat still hurts and tries to choke me every time I swallow or yawn, the house is still covered in toys, the dishwasher still needs filled, and there's a load of cold, wrinkly clothes in the dryer to be put away.
It's so stupid, but those few moments of coming out of a dream and into reality, especially if a dream was romantic (albeit bizarrely) and reality is fairly tedious, can leave me in a funk that lasts for HOURS. Please tell me other people have this problem. Slash MENTAL ISSUE.
Wow, I can't believe this is what I'm writing about on my six hundredth post. I should be doing a list of six hundred awesome! facts about me, or something, since I never got around to doing it for post one hundred, as is tradition. Hmm. How about six awesome! and/or kind of sad and random facts about me? (Hey, I'm sick and uncaffeinated. Random is all I can manage.)
1. I've watched Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice and Emma more times than I can count. I've watched almost of the different versions of them, too, though my favorites remain as follows: the Sense and Sensibility with Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet, the BBC Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth, and the Emma with Gwyneth Paltrow. I also own and love Becoming Jane, the movie based on the life of the author of these novels. I have not, however, managed to finish even a single Jane Austen novel. And I like to read. I have no explanation for this, for it cannot be that I just really don't like her books. OBVIOUSLY I like the stories, so... what's the problem?
2. I was the editor of the school yearbook my senior year. This, uh, is far less impressive than it sounds. It was a small school, and pretty much no one else even wanted to do it. Nor did I, by the end of the year.
3. When I was little I was totally compulsive about certain things, like making my bed. It had to be perfect, and if anything or anyone messed it up before bedtime, I would cry and flip out because I just knew I would never get it so PERFECT ever again. Ditto about the arrangement of stuff on my dresser. I dusted it every day, then spent probably twenty minutes making sure it was exactly as it had been the day before. If I was unable to do this to my satisfaction, I would sometimes sneak up at night and start fixing it again. I also had to wash my face like four times a day, and then if anyone touched my face, I had to wash it again because their evil oils would no doubt make me break out! Hmm. Reading all this is making me wonder how on earth I ever got over it. Having kids, I guess. Because now I can't really think of anything I'm helplessly compulsive about, though there's plenty of things that I wish I were more compulsive about if only I had the energy.
4. I used to swear that my first boy and girl's names would be Dante and Felicity. Or possibly Genevieve, it depended on the day. But Dante was written in stone.
5. I much prefer baths to showers, as long as I know for a fact that the tub is clean. This is mainly because I am nearly incapable of shaving my legs without cutting them unless I'm in the bath. I don't really know why this is, but it is a definite fact. Just the other day I gave myself a truly gruesome, two-inch long flesh wound on my thigh, all while shaving ever so carefully. It might have been the generic razor, it might be the extra-strong leg hairs from those darn prenatal vitamins, but it also might just be that I'm practically handicapped when it comes to handling sharp objects. I fantasize about the day when I can afford electrolysis.
6. I sucked my thumb at night until I was nine. That's NINE (9) years old. I also slept with stuffed animals until I was about ten. I actually thought that their feelings would be hurt if I didn't take them to bed with me, even though for the last couple of years I didn't even want them in there. So yeah... I felt guilty about inanimate objects.
Well, that was fun! Join us in another hundred posts for "Seven Fun Facts"!
Oh yeah! Shelly from Scenic Overlook won my contest last post, so email me, Shelly, and you'll soon be the proud owner ofa box full of junk some awesome and enviable prizes!
For instance, this: last night I had a weird dream (I was dating an affluent young Vanderbilt who was also a drug dealer on the side, and who was beating me up every time I confronted him about the stash hidden under his bed. His younger brother, who was the black sheep of the family, witnessed one of these encounters and rescued me from evil boyfriend, and then spent the latter half of the dream basically stroking my hair and telling me how wonderful I was and how he and I would ride off into the sunset together as soon as I felt like climbing out of his arms and ending his monologue of sweet nothings.) WEIRD. But the end part left me feeling all warm and fuzzy, and then I woke up and realized there's a kid with a pee diaper in my bed, it's still raining and gloomy outside, my throat still hurts and tries to choke me every time I swallow or yawn, the house is still covered in toys, the dishwasher still needs filled, and there's a load of cold, wrinkly clothes in the dryer to be put away.
It's so stupid, but those few moments of coming out of a dream and into reality, especially if a dream was romantic (albeit bizarrely) and reality is fairly tedious, can leave me in a funk that lasts for HOURS. Please tell me other people have this problem. Slash MENTAL ISSUE.
Wow, I can't believe this is what I'm writing about on my six hundredth post. I should be doing a list of six hundred awesome! facts about me, or something, since I never got around to doing it for post one hundred, as is tradition. Hmm. How about six awesome! and/or kind of sad and random facts about me? (Hey, I'm sick and uncaffeinated. Random is all I can manage.)
1. I've watched Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice and Emma more times than I can count. I've watched almost of the different versions of them, too, though my favorites remain as follows: the Sense and Sensibility with Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet, the BBC Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth, and the Emma with Gwyneth Paltrow. I also own and love Becoming Jane, the movie based on the life of the author of these novels. I have not, however, managed to finish even a single Jane Austen novel. And I like to read. I have no explanation for this, for it cannot be that I just really don't like her books. OBVIOUSLY I like the stories, so... what's the problem?
2. I was the editor of the school yearbook my senior year. This, uh, is far less impressive than it sounds. It was a small school, and pretty much no one else even wanted to do it. Nor did I, by the end of the year.
3. When I was little I was totally compulsive about certain things, like making my bed. It had to be perfect, and if anything or anyone messed it up before bedtime, I would cry and flip out because I just knew I would never get it so PERFECT ever again. Ditto about the arrangement of stuff on my dresser. I dusted it every day, then spent probably twenty minutes making sure it was exactly as it had been the day before. If I was unable to do this to my satisfaction, I would sometimes sneak up at night and start fixing it again. I also had to wash my face like four times a day, and then if anyone touched my face, I had to wash it again because their evil oils would no doubt make me break out! Hmm. Reading all this is making me wonder how on earth I ever got over it. Having kids, I guess. Because now I can't really think of anything I'm helplessly compulsive about, though there's plenty of things that I wish I were more compulsive about if only I had the energy.
4. I used to swear that my first boy and girl's names would be Dante and Felicity. Or possibly Genevieve, it depended on the day. But Dante was written in stone.
5. I much prefer baths to showers, as long as I know for a fact that the tub is clean. This is mainly because I am nearly incapable of shaving my legs without cutting them unless I'm in the bath. I don't really know why this is, but it is a definite fact. Just the other day I gave myself a truly gruesome, two-inch long flesh wound on my thigh, all while shaving ever so carefully. It might have been the generic razor, it might be the extra-strong leg hairs from those darn prenatal vitamins, but it also might just be that I'm practically handicapped when it comes to handling sharp objects. I fantasize about the day when I can afford electrolysis.
6. I sucked my thumb at night until I was nine. That's NINE (9) years old. I also slept with stuffed animals until I was about ten. I actually thought that their feelings would be hurt if I didn't take them to bed with me, even though for the last couple of years I didn't even want them in there. So yeah... I felt guilty about inanimate objects.
Well, that was fun! Join us in another hundred posts for "Seven Fun Facts"!
Oh yeah! Shelly from Scenic Overlook won my contest last post, so email me, Shelly, and you'll soon be the proud owner of
Friday, May 14, 2010
Pictures! Contest! Lack of Cohesive Paragraphs!
Well, it's only been a week since I posted, so this isn't a horrible blogging break just yet, right? Yet it feels like it's been a hundred years or so. This week has been very busy! Mother's Day was great (but busy) and my secret sneaky gift to my mom a big success, so yay! (Commissioned black and white sketch of an old photo of my sisters and me as little girls in tutus, thank you very much.) Addy's dance recital is tomorrow, so this week has been full of practices and late classes and last minute shopping trips for un-snagged white tights. Also, our sixth anniversary is tomorrow, not that we'll notice it much in between TWO three-hour shows... most of which our poor preschooler has to sit through in a back room with a coloring book and juice box and fourteen other hyper little girls in sequins.
(This was taken at the dress rehearsal yesterday.)
AND. I'll be eighteen weeks along tomorrow, which means only two more weeks until we know if it's a boy or girl. (OMGOMGOMG!!! YAYAYAYYY!) You know, not that I care that much, since I am overall a very zen and patient person, and hey, if they can't tell, it won't bother me one bit. Ahem. (Please please please show off your business for a few minutes, baby. Consider it your late Mother's Day gift to me, and I'll call it even when weighed against the hip pain and heartburn.) Now then, focus on belly ONLY here and disregard thighs, nightgown, and various imperfections in house, mkay?
It occurs to me that I never posted any pictures of the kids in their adorable Easter outfits, so here's this, apropos of nothing:
Our Easter candy buzz has worn off and left us with a stabby hangover.
A slightly less agressive moment (other than Eli):
Devan's lovely gift package, which I won in her Earth Day contest, arrived early this week. (Or was it last week already? Time has become a bit of a blur lately.) Anyways, the theme was recycled, so it was all stuff of hers she had already read/used or didn't want personally and passed on to me. There were three awesome books, one of which was Gods in Alabama, which I have always meant to get around to reading. I was not disappointed, either, though the laundry situation got quite precarious while I devoured the book! Another was a nice hardback book of cake decorating, which the kids have been paging through like it's a storybook. There was also a baby hat, a baby book, an empty baby girl scrapbook starter (so cute) a baby picture frame, and a package of brand new pot holders and oven mitts. Quite a haul! A haul that I of course forgot to photograph and now everything is scattered more or less in its place and it seems too tiring to go photograph it ALL, but here's a shot of the baby scrapbook starter:
It was so fun that I think I'll follow suit. Leave me a comment re: any of these totally random paragraphs in here and you will be entered in a contest for a box of goodies I have either previously used or was given and don't personally care for. But who knows? Maybe you WILL like it! And if not, pass it along.
Now then... what else? Oh I know! Two rants about annoyances, which I think we can all agree this blog has been sadly lacking. Item the first: the prenatal water aerobics class which I took with both other summer pregnancies and loved, isn't starting this year until September. When I'll already be nearly thirty six weeks pregnant and, let's face it, very possibly on bedrest. Humph. Why wouldn't you hold a WATER aerobics class in the SUMMER when it is HOT??? I have remained cross about this for two weeks solid now. My prenatal yoga DVD is just not quite the same inducement to exercise.
Item the second: People need to stop telling me scary stories about pregnant women dying of blood clots. People also need to stop looking at me like I am certifiable when I say that yes, this was a planned pregnancy, and yes, I even think I'd like one more, and yes, I (so far) try to give birth with minimal intervention. Those people should really be careful when they discuss ALL THREE of those topics with me in a fifteen minute span, and end up wandering away from me in disgust. I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE, eyebrow-raisers.
(This was taken at the dress rehearsal yesterday.)
AND. I'll be eighteen weeks along tomorrow, which means only two more weeks until we know if it's a boy or girl. (OMGOMGOMG!!! YAYAYAYYY!) You know, not that I care that much, since I am overall a very zen and patient person, and hey, if they can't tell, it won't bother me one bit. Ahem. (Please please please show off your business for a few minutes, baby. Consider it your late Mother's Day gift to me, and I'll call it even when weighed against the hip pain and heartburn.) Now then, focus on belly ONLY here and disregard thighs, nightgown, and various imperfections in house, mkay?
It occurs to me that I never posted any pictures of the kids in their adorable Easter outfits, so here's this, apropos of nothing:
Our Easter candy buzz has worn off and left us with a stabby hangover.
A slightly less agressive moment (other than Eli):
Devan's lovely gift package, which I won in her Earth Day contest, arrived early this week. (Or was it last week already? Time has become a bit of a blur lately.) Anyways, the theme was recycled, so it was all stuff of hers she had already read/used or didn't want personally and passed on to me. There were three awesome books, one of which was Gods in Alabama, which I have always meant to get around to reading. I was not disappointed, either, though the laundry situation got quite precarious while I devoured the book! Another was a nice hardback book of cake decorating, which the kids have been paging through like it's a storybook. There was also a baby hat, a baby book, an empty baby girl scrapbook starter (so cute) a baby picture frame, and a package of brand new pot holders and oven mitts. Quite a haul! A haul that I of course forgot to photograph and now everything is scattered more or less in its place and it seems too tiring to go photograph it ALL, but here's a shot of the baby scrapbook starter:
It was so fun that I think I'll follow suit. Leave me a comment re: any of these totally random paragraphs in here and you will be entered in a contest for a box of goodies I have either previously used or was given and don't personally care for. But who knows? Maybe you WILL like it! And if not, pass it along.
Now then... what else? Oh I know! Two rants about annoyances, which I think we can all agree this blog has been sadly lacking. Item the first: the prenatal water aerobics class which I took with both other summer pregnancies and loved, isn't starting this year until September. When I'll already be nearly thirty six weeks pregnant and, let's face it, very possibly on bedrest. Humph. Why wouldn't you hold a WATER aerobics class in the SUMMER when it is HOT??? I have remained cross about this for two weeks solid now. My prenatal yoga DVD is just not quite the same inducement to exercise.
Item the second: People need to stop telling me scary stories about pregnant women dying of blood clots. People also need to stop looking at me like I am certifiable when I say that yes, this was a planned pregnancy, and yes, I even think I'd like one more, and yes, I (so far) try to give birth with minimal intervention. Those people should really be careful when they discuss ALL THREE of those topics with me in a fifteen minute span, and end up wandering away from me in disgust. I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE, eyebrow-raisers.
Friday, May 07, 2010
Items of Note
1. Yesterday for Jim's birthday, I fulfilled his wish for a Greek meal by buying and preparing lamb, vegetable skewers, couscous, pita bread and hummus and of course Greek salad. And when I say "prepare" lamb I mean marinade the meat, attempt to chop it up for shish kebabs, find meat to be both revolting and incredibly tough, give up, and declare that lamb is just as delectable on the bone as on a shish kebab. So we had lamb chops. Which in fact didn't even make it to the grill, as the grill ran out of propane almost as soon as it was fired up. My kitchen was a flurry of activity for awhile as my MIL quickly broiled the meat and roasted the veggie skewers in the oven instead, while the rest of us, weak with hunger, propped against counters and ate our weight in pita and hummus while we waited for the meal. I'm really glad someone took over, 'cause I had no idea what to do- my suggestion was going to be to cover everything with foil and head down to the nearest Pizza Hut instead. Anyhoo, it turned out deliciously, and I think it was another successful meal in the end. I continue to be on a cooking roll!
2. A few hours before Jim's birthday meal, Eli came sauntering down the hallway into the bathroom to inform me his diaper was falling off. It sure was- leaving poop remnants in his wake, all over his lower half, all over the inside of his shorts, and all over his feet, which had been making some firm contact with the floors and the bathroom rug. Addy was currently in the bathtub at the time, and began freaking out at the sight of him. As did I. I don't even want to relive to you the whole sequence of events involved in getting the floors and my child back to a sanitary state, but it was very not pretty, involved a lot of muttering and hissing and exaggerated sighing, and ended with Addy telling me plaintively that I was too grumpy and that she "was going to find somewhere else to live." And I was all, "Kiddo, if you find a place, take me too!"
3. Also yesterday afternoon, my mom was outside planting all the flowers and plants she got me for Mother's Day (I know, I know, she's MY mom, not the other way around. Don't ask- I continue to receive gifts, and I'm not going to start DEBATING whether or not it's strictly in keeping with the spirit of the holiday.) Part of the gift was the rearranging of what I previously had in my beds, almost all of which were not appropriate for the type of sun they were receiving, and as a result were barely clinging to life. So I'm super excited to see how my landscaping looks in a few weeks when everything takes off! Thanks Mom!
4. Ever since his swim class ended, Eli has been begging on a daily basis to go swimming again. Today, following a total stroke of genius, I took the kids "swimming" in my mom and dad's giant (heart-shaped!) jet tub. I just put them in their bathing suits, filled the tub extra full of lukewarm water, and announced that it was a swimming pool. They totally ate it up and played happily for over an hour.
5. I'm still debating about the progesterone injections. Turns out they're not nearly as expensive as I'd thought they were (try ten dollars per shot, not a hundred,) and while I had initially thought they were mainly useful in preventing PROM (premature rupture of membranes)- which I've never had a problem with- there are several differing studies and opinions on why exactly progesterone is useful. It is known that there is a significant drop in maternal progesterone immediately prior to the onset of labor, including premature labor contractions/dilation, but it's not yet known what triggers it. So I don't know... I still feel hesitant, since I've made it this far in the pregnancy without taking hormones, and since progesterone never seemed to help me before, but on the other hand, if it could keep me off bedrest and the baby in my tummy, it seems worth the expense (and residual hip bruising.) It's just such a new treatment, still, and not always effective. On the other hand, I was willing to take Zofran, which is also fairly new and not always effective. Arrgh. I don't know I don't know I don't know.
2. A few hours before Jim's birthday meal, Eli came sauntering down the hallway into the bathroom to inform me his diaper was falling off. It sure was- leaving poop remnants in his wake, all over his lower half, all over the inside of his shorts, and all over his feet, which had been making some firm contact with the floors and the bathroom rug. Addy was currently in the bathtub at the time, and began freaking out at the sight of him. As did I. I don't even want to relive to you the whole sequence of events involved in getting the floors and my child back to a sanitary state, but it was very not pretty, involved a lot of muttering and hissing and exaggerated sighing, and ended with Addy telling me plaintively that I was too grumpy and that she "was going to find somewhere else to live." And I was all, "Kiddo, if you find a place, take me too!"
3. Also yesterday afternoon, my mom was outside planting all the flowers and plants she got me for Mother's Day (I know, I know, she's MY mom, not the other way around. Don't ask- I continue to receive gifts, and I'm not going to start DEBATING whether or not it's strictly in keeping with the spirit of the holiday.) Part of the gift was the rearranging of what I previously had in my beds, almost all of which were not appropriate for the type of sun they were receiving, and as a result were barely clinging to life. So I'm super excited to see how my landscaping looks in a few weeks when everything takes off! Thanks Mom!
4. Ever since his swim class ended, Eli has been begging on a daily basis to go swimming again. Today, following a total stroke of genius, I took the kids "swimming" in my mom and dad's giant (heart-shaped!) jet tub. I just put them in their bathing suits, filled the tub extra full of lukewarm water, and announced that it was a swimming pool. They totally ate it up and played happily for over an hour.
5. I'm still debating about the progesterone injections. Turns out they're not nearly as expensive as I'd thought they were (try ten dollars per shot, not a hundred,) and while I had initially thought they were mainly useful in preventing PROM (premature rupture of membranes)- which I've never had a problem with- there are several differing studies and opinions on why exactly progesterone is useful. It is known that there is a significant drop in maternal progesterone immediately prior to the onset of labor, including premature labor contractions/dilation, but it's not yet known what triggers it. So I don't know... I still feel hesitant, since I've made it this far in the pregnancy without taking hormones, and since progesterone never seemed to help me before, but on the other hand, if it could keep me off bedrest and the baby in my tummy, it seems worth the expense (and residual hip bruising.) It's just such a new treatment, still, and not always effective. On the other hand, I was willing to take Zofran, which is also fairly new and not always effective. Arrgh. I don't know I don't know I don't know.
Monday, May 03, 2010
Adendum
Arrgh. Well, my legs are fine, which is relieving- like Devan, blood clots have always been one of my secret irrational pregnancy fears- right after getting a knot in the umbilical cord!- so it's nice to know that despite sore legs, there appears to be no circulation issues going on.
HOWEVER. My doctor prescribed Diflucan in addition to the antibiotic to deal with the whole, eh, yeast situation. But when I got online and researched it, almost every single site says to avoid this medication when pregnant if there are any alternatives because it has been linked, though inconclusively, with birth defects, some very serious and even fatal. And I know that there are alternatives, they're just messy and annoying, creams and such, because that's what the doctor originally started to prescribe. Then she stopped midsentence and said, "Well, a pill is much easier. And you should be far enough along that it'll be ok." Which is exactly why I took note and looked it up, because, hello! What does that mean... "You're far enough along that it'll be ok" ?! So now I'm kind of mad at her, and thinking she has some secret, Diflucan pushing drug rep or something.
I should probably call and tell her I want something different, huh? And now I'll REALLY be That Patient.
HOWEVER. My doctor prescribed Diflucan in addition to the antibiotic to deal with the whole, eh, yeast situation. But when I got online and researched it, almost every single site says to avoid this medication when pregnant if there are any alternatives because it has been linked, though inconclusively, with birth defects, some very serious and even fatal. And I know that there are alternatives, they're just messy and annoying, creams and such, because that's what the doctor originally started to prescribe. Then she stopped midsentence and said, "Well, a pill is much easier. And you should be far enough along that it'll be ok." Which is exactly why I took note and looked it up, because, hello! What does that mean... "You're far enough along that it'll be ok" ?! So now I'm kind of mad at her, and thinking she has some secret, Diflucan pushing drug rep or something.
I should probably call and tell her I want something different, huh? And now I'll REALLY be That Patient.
Antibiotics and Dopplers and Injections! Yet Oddly No Stress!
This morning was my sixteen week check up, and I was totally a high maintenance patient, coming in with a whole list of questions/concerns. Nine in total. The doctor was really nice and took all the time I wanted, fortunately. I always feel bad hemming around, all, "Well, sometimes my heart races for no reason? And I have this weird heat rash on my chest? And I'm worried I'm gaining weight too fast? And...." I apologized for being That Person, with her itemized list of worries, but the doctor just laughed at me. She said, "My dear, (she always calls me "my dear:" offensive or cute?) you've never really had a smooth pregnancy yet, so you're allowed to be That Patient."
Overall it was a reassuring visit, though. And hearing the baby's heartbeat is fun, for sure. Also, it was relieving to get a possible explanation for why I haven't felt much movement the last few weeks: based on where the doctor finally found the heartbeat, the baby seems to have flipped to head down position already (whereas before the baby's feet were down, on top of my bladder, essentially. Which is... sensitive to movement.)
Also got a (kind of gross) explanation for all the cramping and general discomfort. Let me think of a subtle way to phrase this so as not to ick the boys out... Hmm. Let's just say it's an ailment common in pregnancy and has to do with an ingredient very important to bread making. M'kay? So a round of antibiotics and I should be feeling better.
The only thing at all worrisome is that I have been having a lot of calf pain through the backs of my legs the last week or so, and even though there are no visible clots or varicose veins, the doctor was worried. I guess DVT (deep vein thrombosis, the scary kind of clots) can sometimes just present with pain, and not necessarily be visible, so since I'm supposedly prone to clots, I have to go to the hospital this afternoon for a doppler scan of my legs to make sure no clots are hiding in there.
This sounds like no fun, and super boring, but I'm all for ruling out hidden clots which can be potentially fatal, so. Off I go.
Oh and also! I'm supposed to start doing weekly progesterone shots in the next week or two. Apparently several studies suggest that weekly progesterone therapy in the second and third trimesters can improve the odds of avoiding bedrest/premature labor for women who are at risk for such things, and that low maternal progesterone is one of the risk factors for preterm labor. I feel kind of iffy, since progesterone therapy hasn't seemed to really affect my hormone levels in a helpful way when I've tried it previously. However, there is also no substantiated research that progesterone therapy helps AT ALL to prevent miscarriage, which is why I was taking it then, and there IS research suggesting that it can help at the end of pregnancy, so... I don't know. Any advise/experience re: this? Keep in mind these shots are a hundred bucks a pop, every week until thirty six weeks, I think, and they're fairly painful. I'm still not sure if insurance will help with them or not. And I have to do them MYSELF, unless I want to come in to the office with two kids every week to have the nurse do them.
Overall it was a reassuring visit, though. And hearing the baby's heartbeat is fun, for sure. Also, it was relieving to get a possible explanation for why I haven't felt much movement the last few weeks: based on where the doctor finally found the heartbeat, the baby seems to have flipped to head down position already (whereas before the baby's feet were down, on top of my bladder, essentially. Which is... sensitive to movement.)
Also got a (kind of gross) explanation for all the cramping and general discomfort. Let me think of a subtle way to phrase this so as not to ick the boys out... Hmm. Let's just say it's an ailment common in pregnancy and has to do with an ingredient very important to bread making. M'kay? So a round of antibiotics and I should be feeling better.
The only thing at all worrisome is that I have been having a lot of calf pain through the backs of my legs the last week or so, and even though there are no visible clots or varicose veins, the doctor was worried. I guess DVT (deep vein thrombosis, the scary kind of clots) can sometimes just present with pain, and not necessarily be visible, so since I'm supposedly prone to clots, I have to go to the hospital this afternoon for a doppler scan of my legs to make sure no clots are hiding in there.
This sounds like no fun, and super boring, but I'm all for ruling out hidden clots which can be potentially fatal, so. Off I go.
Oh and also! I'm supposed to start doing weekly progesterone shots in the next week or two. Apparently several studies suggest that weekly progesterone therapy in the second and third trimesters can improve the odds of avoiding bedrest/premature labor for women who are at risk for such things, and that low maternal progesterone is one of the risk factors for preterm labor. I feel kind of iffy, since progesterone therapy hasn't seemed to really affect my hormone levels in a helpful way when I've tried it previously. However, there is also no substantiated research that progesterone therapy helps AT ALL to prevent miscarriage, which is why I was taking it then, and there IS research suggesting that it can help at the end of pregnancy, so... I don't know. Any advise/experience re: this? Keep in mind these shots are a hundred bucks a pop, every week until thirty six weeks, I think, and they're fairly painful. I'm still not sure if insurance will help with them or not. And I have to do them MYSELF, unless I want to come in to the office with two kids every week to have the nurse do them.
Friday, April 30, 2010
The Pregnant Glow
I am very tired today. All I did was take a long walk, and I ended up collapsing on the couch and falling asleep with Eli while watching Maggie and The Ferocious Beast. I even slept a good eight hours last night, too. Unless you count waking up to pee, and oh my gosh is that getting old fast. Good thing that little pregnancy side effect will be over soo- oh wait! Ha ha!
The Braxton Hicks are getting stronger lately, some honest to goodness painful, so I suppose I'll have to mention that to my doctor on Monday. I'm kind of dreading it, because I'm worried she'll start checking cervix status and all that and somehow I'll end up on bedrest ALREADY. It would totally be worth it to ensure the baby's safety, obviously, but I'm feeling so good lately and I so want to have a fun summer with the kids before the baby arrives. So all of you who've had multiple kids can just feel free to chime in about how frequently your belly felt tight and crampy when you were pregnant with number three.
Other than the peeing thing and the crampy thing, I've been feeling more or less great lately. It's that mythical "good trimester" thing that I never really experienced the last time around! Given the Braxton Hicks, though, I'm trying to take it easy and not go too crazy with projects just because I feel better, so the house is not as clean as I like it, and I haven't done a darn thing on my nesting list. Still haven't really thought about names, and the only planning and dreaming I've done is for the summer: multiple cottage trips to Canada, possibly a twelve hour road trip to Charleston to visit my older sister (with both kids! I know! I know! I'm out of my mind, clearly,) gardening, sitting outside on the deck while the kids play. Grilling. Enjoying yummy summer food. I practically start drooling thinking about corn on the cob and watermelon and REAL tomatoes and ice cream cones and... Well. Can you tell I'm not really nauseous anymore? And also really really hungry?
I think that I'm still in a pinch-me, I'm actually, really pregnant! phase, AND I still can't wrap my head around the reality of three kids in the fall, so I'm just trying to anticipate the next bend in the road and not freak myself out thinking too far ahead! I do find myself noticing cute little babies more than usual, though. I saw a little girl in a sunhat today, about six months old, that nearly slayed me with her adorable-ness. I wanted to walk up and ask her (perfect stranger) mother if I could hold her for a minute. MAAAYBE pinch a cheek, too.
Is it normal to be feeling not all that impatient for the baby's arrival? Because both other times, I felt like every single day was a grueling test of my patience, and this time I just feel so happy, most of the time, and perfectly content with where I am in terms of gestation. It seems strange to me because this is the pregnancy I have worked the hardest for, wished for the most fervently, so wouldn't I be just DESPERATE to see the baby already? Or maybe because I wanted to maintain a pregnancy so badly, I'm just ready to enjoy being pregnant for once instead of being so anxious to move on to the next phase?
The Braxton Hicks are getting stronger lately, some honest to goodness painful, so I suppose I'll have to mention that to my doctor on Monday. I'm kind of dreading it, because I'm worried she'll start checking cervix status and all that and somehow I'll end up on bedrest ALREADY. It would totally be worth it to ensure the baby's safety, obviously, but I'm feeling so good lately and I so want to have a fun summer with the kids before the baby arrives. So all of you who've had multiple kids can just feel free to chime in about how frequently your belly felt tight and crampy when you were pregnant with number three.
Other than the peeing thing and the crampy thing, I've been feeling more or less great lately. It's that mythical "good trimester" thing that I never really experienced the last time around! Given the Braxton Hicks, though, I'm trying to take it easy and not go too crazy with projects just because I feel better, so the house is not as clean as I like it, and I haven't done a darn thing on my nesting list. Still haven't really thought about names, and the only planning and dreaming I've done is for the summer: multiple cottage trips to Canada, possibly a twelve hour road trip to Charleston to visit my older sister (with both kids! I know! I know! I'm out of my mind, clearly,) gardening, sitting outside on the deck while the kids play. Grilling. Enjoying yummy summer food. I practically start drooling thinking about corn on the cob and watermelon and REAL tomatoes and ice cream cones and... Well. Can you tell I'm not really nauseous anymore? And also really really hungry?
I think that I'm still in a pinch-me, I'm actually, really pregnant! phase, AND I still can't wrap my head around the reality of three kids in the fall, so I'm just trying to anticipate the next bend in the road and not freak myself out thinking too far ahead! I do find myself noticing cute little babies more than usual, though. I saw a little girl in a sunhat today, about six months old, that nearly slayed me with her adorable-ness. I wanted to walk up and ask her (perfect stranger) mother if I could hold her for a minute. MAAAYBE pinch a cheek, too.
Is it normal to be feeling not all that impatient for the baby's arrival? Because both other times, I felt like every single day was a grueling test of my patience, and this time I just feel so happy, most of the time, and perfectly content with where I am in terms of gestation. It seems strange to me because this is the pregnancy I have worked the hardest for, wished for the most fervently, so wouldn't I be just DESPERATE to see the baby already? Or maybe because I wanted to maintain a pregnancy so badly, I'm just ready to enjoy being pregnant for once instead of being so anxious to move on to the next phase?
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