Baby Cheung v2.0

And I didn't even MENTION Project Runway!

You all are brilliant. Well, Elaine was brilliant and Tara was brillianter- Jack has roseola. We spent about 10 minutes in the doctor's office where we learned that 1) he has roseola, 2) there's nothing you do for it, and 3) have fun waiting it out!

Phillip was all, "Oh, I feel SO MUCH BETTER having PEACE OF MIND!"

I was all, "Where is my bottle of Happy Baby Medicine?"

But Jack seemed to morph back into his normal self last night and this morning he is, dare I say it? Downright CHEERFUL. He's even eating! The spots are mostly to all gone so maybe the worst is over. Of course, now that I have written that ON THE INTERNET I'm sure he's going to go ballistic on me as soon as I hit publish. If you want to read about what was going on before The Diagnosis (re: parents who had no idea our kid wasn't feeling well, let alone suffering from a VIRAL DISEASE) you can go to Parenting. See ya!

Today is Phillip's monthly Work Godawfully Late night. Sigh. Thankfully my parents are coming up today to babysit while I get a number of Pre-Baby things done. Which is good because DUDE, I had more contractions last night and I'm starting to think this is going to be a Thing. You know. Painful yet useless contractions every night until the baby arrives two weeks late. SO NOT HAPPY ABOUT THAT. Last night I wasn't freaking out so much because we'd done the doctor thing and Jack was doing better, but I still don't have a bag packed and I don't have newborn diapers and I haven't picked out my new eyeglasses (so they don't fall off my head while I am changing diapers in the middle of the night) and THE LIST GOES ON.

So today I am running errands and packing a bag and getting my eyes checked out. (Poor kids of mine. Little do they know how blind they're going to be.) I have even halfway talked my sister into helping me pick out my glasses. Actually, I just really want the glasses SHE picked out at the SAME PLACE, but then I will be accused of COPYCATTING and it will be JUST LIKE LIVING AT HOME AGAIN. (According to my sisters: not allowed to have the same shoes, same clothes, same anything. Got that?)

You have no idea how excited I am to get new glasses. I wear contacts all day long and only use my glasses for waking up and going to bed and other instances like, oh, childbirth. I have these funky-ish red glasses that LOOK cool but only when they are not on my face. And also, the parts that are supposed to rest on your ears aren't curved at all, so they are constantly falling off my head as soon as I tilt my chin the fewest of degrees down. HATE. Phillip suggested I get Lasik but do you know what they DO when you get Lasik? SHUDDER. So I'm going to get a pair of glasses I won't hate wearing outside of my house and then maybe my eyes won't rot by the time I'm 40. What do you think?

Oh, and for the hospital bag... Gah. I don't remember what I packed last time. I'm not one of those music and scented candle people, although I did bring the first season of Veronica Mars with me when I had Jack. (Didn't watch it. If you are laboring in the middle of the night people keep telling you to sleep and frowning on anything that is Not Sleeping, even though it is impossible to sleep because the stupid blood pressure cuff keeps going off every 10 minutes.) But THIS time... I'm bringing shampoo, because I didn't bring shampoo last time, because I thought the hospital would have some, and when they didn't automatically supply it I was too embarrassed to ask for some (stupid girl who didn't bring her own shampoo!) and I've got the pictures to show for it. Ugh. I am bringing my own robe and my own clothes. I may or may not have the baby in those clothes, but again, I am not posing for New Baby pictures in the Dreaded Hospital Gown. (Can you say VAIN? Guess what! I'm bringing makeup too!) Aaaand the not decided upon Going Home Outfit for New Baby. Aaaand a magazine or two for when Phillip eats dinner in the hospital in front of me and I am not allowed to eat anything. (I'm just going off experience here people!) So what else? I know I am missing 12 zillion things, but someone is QUITE UPSET that I am on the computer and I better get going. Oh wait, before I get 12 zillion comments: THE LANSINOH. IT IS PACKED.


All this is temporary, right?

I'm worried about Jack. I thought it was the heat, all the family functions, not getting enough sleep, not sleeping in his own bed, pretty much anything that can throw your schedule off and make you uncomfortable.

He had a funky skin rash on Friday. I think it may have been hives, although I don't really know what hives look like and I have no idea why he would have them. (Yes, I have combed through our recent history for any indication of allergic reactions!) It went away on its own, but he woke up with another, different, rash yesterday morning- little tiny red dots all over his face and upper torso. My method for dealing with Weird Skin My Baby Inherited From My Husband is to not immediately freak out, see how Jack acts, see if it goes away, maybe call the doctor.

I ended up calling the doctor in the late afternoon yesterday because the rash was still there AND Jack was the whiniest crabbiest most upset baby he's been in a loooong while. And of course no one called me back because it was so close to after hours and I just resolved to call in the morning and take him in because this fretful clingy kid is a bit out of character.

Phillip put him to bed nearly an hour earlier than usual and I spent the rest of the night in front of the television, alternately cursing NBC and feeling ashamed for my Horrible Parenting Skills that day. (Which I am saving for Parenting. Got to scrounge up material somewhere...)

And THEN! I went to bed and started having CONTRACTIONS. OH DEAR GOD.

Okay, so I don't really know if they were contractions. Kind of a systematic seizing up of my whole abdomen, although it didn't always feel better after the muscles released. I got pretty nervous. On one hand I was all gung ho, on the other I was thinking about how Jack would see a doctor if I had to go to the hospital in the middle of the night. And oh yeah, I haven't packed a hospital bag and I still haven't figured out what I want to do about someone watching Jack and THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH MY BABY and I can't have New Baby NOW, who is going to take care of JACK?!

I didn't show it, but I was in Total Freak Out Mode. Phillip would ask how I was feeling and I'd say, "Just uncomfortable!" and go back to Freaking Out.

Obviously they went away, or else I would not be sitting here at my dining room table in my pajamas listening to Jack wake up on the monitor. But the frequency of Contraction-Like Aches and Twinges is definitely increasing and either I'm going to have this baby early or I'm going to be confused and in pain until the baby arrives on her due date. (We are not entertaining past due dates, all right? Humor me.)

Anyway. I am worried about Jack. I need to go up there and see if he still has little red dots all over him. I need to see how cranky he is. I feel less and less capable of taking care of him all day, especially when he's in Clingy Mode. I honestly can't hold him for too long, you know? And I don't have the energy to fight over whether he gets to keep his blanket while he sits in his high chair. (NO, NO HE DOESN'T.)


New Baby, I love you, but please stop turning somersaults FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

It is really hard for me to think about anything other than my physical comfort and when oh when is this baby going to get here. I don't like this. It's totally distracting me from more important things, like blogs and mopping the floor and washing new onesies. Every night I prop myself on the couch and proceed to whine about my back or my feet or how this baby won't stop moving or MAN feel THIS is the baby going to burst bum first from my abdomen?

I wasn't like this with Jack. I know it. With Jack I was well entrenched in the conventional wisdom that first babies are late. Very late. Two weeks overdue. I thought it was silly to quit work too much before my due date (not because I wanted to keep working, of course) and it did not at all occur to me that I wouldn't get to enjoy my "week off" before my due date because I'd start having contractions Monday night. (MONDAY! I only got a DAY to do nothing!) Anyway, even though he was a few days early, I never hoped or assumed he might be. That was setting myself up with EXPECTATIONS and, at the time, I didn't mind being pregnant.

This time, not only am I definitely hoping and nearly assuming New Baby will be early, I am DYING to not be pregnant. I daydream about sleeping on my stomach. I think wistfully about the days when the only thing that woke me up during the night was a whimpering baby. I hate my clothes. I can't climb the stairs without wheezing. Ever since my doctor implied I was ready to have the baby at any time, I read way too much into every ache and pain. Could THAT be the start of a contraction? What about THAT?  I am so done with this.

But I've still got a few weeks left and this is dangerous thought territory, don't you think? Just because second babies go faster and earlier than first babies doesn't mean they ALL do.

I've decided to allow myself one expectationy hope and that is that labor won't last as long. I am a big fan of these stories where the mom goes into labor in the morning and has her baby in time to go to bed. Sounds good to me!

But! I do want to say that I am not at all looking forward to the PROCESS. If you know what I mean. And I think that has to do with hopes and expectations as well. With Jack I had absolutely no idea what it would be like. Plus I had the first babies are late AND difficult to get out thing in my head, so I went around assuming I would soon be enduring some very long and painful hours. And for me, it is a lot easier to wrap your brain around that assumption when you don't have any context for the "long and painful hours" part. But now? NOW I KNOW. At least, I know a little bit. And quite honestly, I could do without this whole birth thing. I do sometimes I wish I was one of those Birth Is Beautiful people and not that I think birth ISN'T beautiful, it's just more beautiful when someone ELSE is doing it. So you know. I'm sitting on the couch thinking "GAWD, COULD YOU JUST BE BORN ALREADY?" and my next thought is, "Oh, but THAT wasn't fun..."

There are actual things to be writing about today, but like I said, I CAN'T THINK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE.

At least Jack and I are both happier people now that the Evil Heat Wave has vanished, leaving in its place mid 60 degree weather and rain. I swear, Seattle needs some kind of bipolar medication. But I am not complaining! I am pretty sure that yesterday was the very first day in a long while when I looked out the window, saw gray rainy skies and quickly sent up a heartfelt "THANK YOU GOD."

What things are YOU obsessed with these days?


The heat makes me talk too much

My poor little Jack Jack. He's had a hard weekend. What with his cousins in town, a family reunion, his grandmother's birthday and parents who think they can Do It All, he's been out and about quite a bit for a little guy who prefers the neighborhood wading pool and driving his truck around his familiar living room. Add the ninety-degree temperatures and you have one unhappy toddler. I think he inherited my father's disposition towards temperatures warmer than 75, and that disposition would be Downright Ornery. I know some of you are all "Whatever, two days of 90 degrees is no big thing, you WUSS" but we had FOUR days of 90 plus degrees AND no one has air conditioning in this part of the world AND some of us are grossly pregnant AND the average Pacific Northwesterner begins to melt once you hit 80. (There are two kinds of Pacific Northwesterner by the way. The first kind has Seasonal Affective Disorder and complains about the lack of sun. The second kind has Seasonal Affective Disorder as well, just that the season they cannot bear is summer, and when can they have their gloomy gray again, they LIKE the rain, would all you people who like the heat take yourselves down to Phoenix please and leave us to our mold and moss?)

Anyway. Jack is not his usual cheerful self. In fact he was sort of embarrassing at church, what with all the moaning and groaning and throwing himself into a different parent's arms every five minutes. He woke up at 6:30 this morning and Phillip managed to put him back to sleep- and he slept till 9. We had to wake him up to get him ready for church, and then he went down again at 12. He even fell asleep next to Phillip on the couch, and sleep has not been won so easily in our house since he was a newborn and slept anywhere at any time. Phillip gets all worked up about schedules and consistency and for the most part I agree with him, but I think we sometimes forget we're dealing with a small human being, not a malfunctioning robot. I mean, do WE act like our usual cheerful selves when we're hot and uncomfortable and tired of driving back and forth to family functions?

Speaking of family functions, my little sisters gave me a baby shower Friday night. So far I have opted out of the shower thing. Some friends asked if they could host one and I said something like, "Can we just do something without our kids instead?" I mean, I love throwing parties, but I'm not very good at being the Reason for the party. We had a really nice co-ed shower for Jack, but I'm not big on the attention and I get so worried about being appropriately enthusiastic or gushy during the present-opening part. (I was a horrible Bride, you guys. If there'd been a way to just throw a party without being the only girl in a white dress, or without having to stand in front of everyone, I would have had a much easier time. I've been so impressed with friends of mine, who just KNOW how to be In The Spotlight. It's a gift!) But my sisters who, as far as I know, are as anti-attentiony as me, sent me an INVITE to a BABY SHOWER with my FAMILY and have I mentioned that my family doesn't do stuff like this? We are the kind of people who sit around and complain about going to other people's bridal/baby showers (I know, go ahead, hate us) and I was sort of wondering what got into them. I mean, did they realize they would have to GO?

But whatever. A party! For me! With presents! So I showed up at my sister's apartment and YOU GUYS. My heart, it swelled with pride. After years of being sort-of-made-fun-of for all the silly parties I host at my house, my sisters went All Out. Decorations! Amazing treats! Flowers! Wine! NO GAMES! In fact, the only part they messed up on was looking cuter than me, which is not hard to do seeing as how they are both 100 pounds lighter than me when I am NOT pregnant, but still, way to outdo the Guest of Honor. Sniff.

Most amazing was the cake my sister Katie baked JUST FOR ME.

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My other sister is not half as talented at photography as Katie is at baking.

That is a BABY BUGGY on my cake. Made of FONDANT. Which is, like, PROFESSIONAL FROSTING. Have I mentioned my sister Katie will be attending a culinary arts program fairly soon? Aka Baking School? Aka Maggie Is SOOOO Going To Be A Happy Little Guinea Pig For The Next Year?

The cake was the recipe on the back of the Hershey Cocoa tin (best chocolate cake EVAH) and the frosting was this recipe. So very divine and yummy. I'm told the practice cake (practice cake!) was even cuter, since the whole thing was made of fondant, but darling Katie remembered all the times when I said fondant is pretty but tastes like plastic.

Also, it turns out that if you have a small shower with the Cool Ladies in your family, you have an excellent time, plus you get a lot of adorable dresses and your shower-stupid self has no trouble being appropriately enthusiastic and gushy about adorable dresses. Some of which are hand made and when you get home, you hold them up to your husband and say, "THIS IS WHAT I WORE UNTIL I WAS TWELVE YEARS OLD."

The only thing I didn't like about the shower was all the Excitement! About a Girl! because I suddenly got very very nervous that we are not having a girl. PRESSURE! And if we don't have a girl, it's not like I can fit into those adorable dresses, AS MUCH AS I WISH I COULD.

MY this is rambly! All I really wanted to do was post a picture of The Cake. Happy Sunday! I'm off to sleep away the afternoon.


Snips, snails, puppy dog tails

Oh dear. I'm beginning to think you all are going to have a great big letdown feeling when you learn New Baby's name. It's just not all that exciting. The only reason I'm not telling you is because 1) I reserve the right to change my mind (even though my entire family goes around calling New Baby by her Almost Name and if I were to change it they'd all give me Stinkeyes of Death) and 2) IT'S ALL I HAVE. I mean, this website is not particularly informative or insightful or brilliant or nice looking or any of those things that keep you coming back so I must use little tricks like NEW BABY SUSPENSE.

I will tell you that we are not naming the baby Gertrude. Or Hortense. Or Beulah.

I did buy the bedding. I made! A decision!

And because there's nothing else going on: pictures!

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Feeding time is cup stealing time.

Here we have Jack, Big Cousin and Little Cousin. Although Little Cousin is still five months older than Jack and, even though he's maybe an inch taller, about 10 pounds heavier. If we didn't know that his dad was such a shrimpy little guy, we'd assume Little Cousin is going to be a linebacker. (What? I only get TWO WEEKS to harass my little brother! Two weeks!)

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God I hate sippy cups.

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Okay, so all of my nephew photos involve food. THAT'S WHAT THEY DO.

(Note that Jack is primly eating a BUN and Little Cousin is eating an entire HAMBURGER. Can you see why I was a little afraid that the cousins were going to steamroll my boy?)

(Also, they are super cute and smiley, but not so much for the camera. As Big Cousin would say, "NO WAY!")

Then I tried taking a few belly shots. Ho ho ho. Surprise surprise I am ENTIRELY too vain to publish them on the WORLD WIDE WEB. Dear God, the internet would break. So instead I'll post a view from the top when Jack is all whiny and hugging my legs to see if I'll give him a cookie.

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Yes, that blue and white blob would be my STOMACH.

And here is how our mornings are going:

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I AM THE MASTER OF THE SPOON.


Miscellany. Did I spell that right?

I am back from my OB appointment just in time to put Jack down for a nap and grab some lunch and start some laundry and clean up the kitchen and - wait, I'm sitting here with one eye on Olympic water polo and another on the laptop, my forehead inches away from dropping onto the table and I am somehow hoping the refrigerator makes my lunch for me.

This morning the doctor asked me if I'd been having any contractions. I said yes, but then I'd stopped hauling my child up and down the stairs fifty times a day and am making him do it himself (EVEN THOUGH IT TAKES FOURTEEN YEARS OH MY GOD) and now I'm not feeling much. And she said something to the effect of, "But the baby is ready to come any time so keep practicing with those muscles!" I think I would be upset about the implication of needing exercise if I wasn't so stymied by "any time". Seriously? I've got four weeks, and as much as I would like to not be pregnant anymore, I'm thinking four weeks early is not a particularly good thing.

Four weeks. Holy crap.

What do you think about this portable crib bedding? All I really want is a bedskirt at this point, but you know I'll have to buy the whole set. I'd go for the plain ole pink gingham except it's always out of stock. And since the crib is in my bedroom which already has its own color scheme going on (ha! my bedroom is laughing at the idea of a green wall being a "color scheme") it can't be too, you know. Theme-y. Pattern-y. Multi-colored-y.

We had a great weekend. It was the first time we had four mobile kiddos and coordinating babysitting and naps and all that was a little hectic, but it worked out really well. Next year we are going to have EIGHT kiddos, which means we have discussed, at length, the amount of drinking and prescription drugs required to get us through THAT weekend.

Nephew pictures will be posted as soon as The Management gets around to uploading pictures. It's not that I don't know HOW to upload the pictures, it's that I don't know how to swish them through the network and into the right folder. Because I do believe I've mentioned the forty-seven computers in my house and the vital role they each play in the maintaining of my super-connected cable television lifestyle. I just appreciate them, I don't know how they actually FUNCTION.

In the meantime-

The Opening Ceremonies: Dude. If you didn't believe it before, I think the opening ceremonies are proof that China is going to take over the world.

OB Appointments: Oh, the indignities.

36 Weeks: How unfair is it that you aren't getting enough sleep BEFORE you have to wake up fifty times during the night to feed a squawking newborn?

Water Polo: boring.

Michael Phelps: Super cute. Until he takes off his swim cap and makes everyone suspicious that a twelve-year-old is ingesting steroids.

Lunch: Still not made.

New Baby's Name: CHOSEN. SO HELP ME GOD.


The better things

I just sent a preview of the website I'm building to my client. And now I am writing here so I stop thinking about throwing up. One thing though: Phillip was pointing out that 99% of the world uses Internet Explorer and how I should be looking at how my pages render in IE as well as Firefox and I KNOW THAT except I FORGOT and now I see that I have something stupid to fix and can I just say PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD USE FIREFOX PLEASE.

All right! Not throwing up!

Today was better. Which is good because today tonight I am writing about How Things Are Better.

Thing Number One!
I don't remember when it started and I don't know how long it lasted, but with Jack I had several rather memorable nights of Surely This Is Going To Kill Me Heartburn. Like, heartburn so bad I nearly called my pharmacist friend in the middle of the night because I KNEW she had a giant bottle of Zantac left over from her pregnancy and I'm sorry but Tums were NOT cutting it. There were nights when I had to sleep propped up in bed lest my insides be burned up by my horizontal position. When I would wake up in the middle of the night wondering if this is what it felt like to drink battery acid. When Phillip was calling his lawyer to see if the court would accept "heartburn" as the reason on the divorce papers. Also? Tums? DISGUSTING. Oh man. I could barely choke those things down. But with this baby I've had minimal occasional barely annoying heartburn AND I found a version of Tums I can stand to put in my mouth. Excellent!

Thing Number Two!
My skin? WAY better with New Baby than with Jack. I think I've had exactly one red eruption on my face since January. And did I mention that those gross calluses on my feet totally went away? I know, like you want to hear about my feet (NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT FEET) but you GUYS. Here I was thinking that I was going to have these weird little bumps on the bottom of my foot until the day I died, that I'd end up going to the foot doctor at age eighty-four and saying, "Yes, Doctor, I wore stupid shoes in my youth", AND NOW THEY ARE GONE. And even though this happened with Jack too, I love the thicker hair and the long fingernails. My usual mode is Thin and Stringy and Bitten To The Quick, but pregnancy is like a little hair and nails oasis. (Although, because my hair started falling out at 3 months post-partum and then started growing back about 6 months post-partum, I have all these short chunks of hair that stick out and look totally weird. WHATEVER.)

Thing Number Three!
Guess who has successfully avoided the evil store that rhymes with Botherhood Fraternity? ME. I have spent WAY less money on stupid maternity clothes and the money I DID spend I spent on things I actually liked wearing. GO ME.

Thing Number Four!
No one is bothering me about a Small Baby. Although there is still time for that, I suppose.

Thing Number Five!
I haven't had time to worry about all the things I worried about with Jack. It's not that I am NOT worried about those things. I am well aware of the Horrible Things That May Happen. Of course I am nervous about The Newborn Stage and What Kind Of Baby I Will Get. But I don't have time to think about it! Even when I come across blogs where the Horrible Thing has happened, I don't fall into a pit of terror. Someone is whining for his goldfish crackers and I must snap to attention. You know? So yes, having a toddler while pregnant is exhausting, but it's definitely helped in the Psychological Department. (These crazy anxiety-inducing hormones, though, are an entirely different story. I mean, you should hear the things I've been anxious about. They are not even REAL. But I am not talking about those things! Only the better things!)

Thing Number Six!
Thing Number Six isn't something I've thought much about since I first got pregnant, but it bears repeating. It may be the best better thing. Thing Number Six is: this baby appeared out of the blue. (Well, not ENTIRELY, but you know, as blue as it is possible to be in my obsessive-compulsive world.) The lead up to my first pregnancy, while a tropical BREEZE compared to internet standards, was still a time period in which I managed to Bring The Drama. Like, a lot. For all I knew baby number two would require the same emotional work. But no. Baby Number Two just HAPPENED. And even though I freaked out and was even sort of angry about donating my body to an alien creature so soon after the first go round, it was so nice, so very very wonderful, to not have to do the emotional work.

And there is your yearly dose of positive thinking! Are we all gagging on our coffee? Shuddering at the Sappy Cheer and Irritating Good Humor and Annoying Glass Half Fullness? Then it would be my duty to inform you that while the boy napped today (OR ELSE I WOULD BE DEAD), he also went to bed with a FEVER. OH JOY.


Posted tonight because there will probably be no nap tomorrow either

Today? Sucked.

Put molars, no nap, a baby who has lodged herself firmly under my rib cage with plans to stay there for at least the next six weeks, deadlines, dirty dishes, hormones, lack of decent sleep, and oh yeah did I mention MOLARS and NO NAP and put them all in the food processor and push "Puree". The resulting sludge equals my day.

I lurched out of bed this morning, determined to take some ownership in this baby rearing thing as Phillip has been doing the morning routine on his own for weeks now. He'd already been up for an hour in the middle of the night sitting with a miserable and wide awake baby so the diaper change and breakfast readying was the least I could do. Phillip got an extra hour of sleep and all was well until I strapped myself into the car for the ride to church and felt that by now familiar gut bursting feeling. As in, how in the world do I have six weeks left because there is no more room in there.

I have no idea why church is so crazy uncomfortable. I can't sit or stand without feeling short of breath. I don't even bother kneeling anymore. I spent most of Mass thinking back to my pregnancy with Jack, trying to remember what it was like. I know for a fact that mere days before his birth I was thinking to myself, "Gee, pregnancy's not so bad, I could totally do this for a few more weeks!" And here I am, with at least six weeks left to go, AND I AM DONE.

And from that point on I was The Grumpiest Woman Alive. Don't touch me, don't talk to me, don't ask me anything, don't need anything. Not even the doll I bought for New Baby on Saturday could snap me out of my funk.
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When Hello Kitty does not put a smile on your face, things are Looking Dour.

Then Jack didn't nap [INSERT GASP OF SURPRISE] and I didn't get the relaxing afternoon I was hoping for and did I mention POOR PHILLIP? Because not only am I Grumpy, I am shuffling about the house like an invalid, clutching my stomach and complaining about my back and bemoaning how much I ate at our friends' barbecue.

Phillip took care of Jack all day. He put the crib together. When he ran into Trader Joe's to buy brownies for our friends' barbecue (like I was going to BAKE them, AS IF) he came out with a tub of brownies for the barbecue and a giant chocolate bar for his wife. He did not plug his ears when I fretted about my deadlines and my utter ineptitude with Photoshop. He fed the boy dinner. He put the boy to bed. He is currently leaving me to My Internet and will obediently follow me upstairs when I announce I'm going to sleep.

BECAUSE I AM MARRIED TO A SAINT.

He even suggested Jack and I meet him for lunch tomorrow, which I don't understand because work = escape from whiny wife and teething child. Would YOU want to meet us for lunch?

And tonight someone said to me, "I would NEVER guess you're due September 10!" Granted, I was sitting down with Jack on my lap, but STILL. I'm not quite sure what to do with that. I either feel horrified, that I must look this elephantine when I'm NOT pregnant, or guilty, because I'm not that big, why am I so grumpy?

If I eat that chocolate bar before I go to bed I'll get heartburn. DAMMIT. All right. Next post? Things that are better this time around. Believe it or not, some things are better. [INSERT ACTUAL GASP OF SURPRISE.]


A thesaurus entry for "tired"

I couldn't think of anything to write yesterday, even with Princess Nebraska's writing prompt. I mean, there are only so many ways to say "I'm exhausted" and I'm pretty sure I've used most of them already.

I spent most of my day organizing the upstairs (while Jack hovered around me swinging his new toy, a wrapping paper tube I foolishly neglected to immediately recycle) and I think I can say it looks decent. His closet is emptied of everything unnecessary, space was made in the dresser for pink onesies and sleepers, the wardrobe is finally finished (we had to get Ikea to send us extra hardware) and all the pictures are up. I'm dying to give back the one baby item we still have on loan from friends, a swing we never ever used, but the friends are moving and it wouldn't be nice to just show up tomorrow morning, swing in hand. I vacuumed, I dusted, I placed the stuffed animals on the shelf just so. It was all very nesty and comforting, even with the repeated whacks from the wrapping paper tube.

I still have to set up the portable crib (thanks Mom!) and (even better) buy the girly bedding to go inside. Any recommendations for where to buy portable crib bedding? I'm thinking we'll keep the pack 'n play downstairs because OMG you guys, I am now completely freaking out over all the things I won't be able to do due to Two Babies and Two Flights of Stairs. I don't know why I'm so worried about this- plenty of people live in two story houses. What's one more story?! But I never rarely leave Jack on one floor while I'm on another. Sometimes I know I'm going to take two seconds to grab a pair of socks upstairs, or I get tired of trying to coax him to climb the stairs by himself and I haul the groceries up without waiting for him to go first. So now I have to make sure I can do everything on every floor. I want the pack 'n play in the living room so I can put New Baby down for naps without dragging Jack along. I'll need diapers and wipes in the living room AND my room (because we're not doing middle-of-the-night diaper changes in Jack's room.) I've worked hard to make Jack's room more play-friendly, because I think we might be spending a lot more time up there.

Don't even talk to me about how you go to Target with two babies. I'm not even sure how I get myself, two babies and their assorted luggage down the stairs and into the GARAGE.

I'm starting to feel that familiar anxiety tension in my shoulder blades. I don't know if I'm nervous about the baby coming or what. You are probably all thinking "DUH" but I don't know, a lot of times that shoulder blade tension is there because there's nothing on TV. As in: NO GOOD REASON. Note to self: schedule glorious pregnancy massage before you are so huge you are embarrassed to get a glorious pregnancy massage.

Have I mentioned I'm tired?

I wrote about months Eight through Twelve on Parenting today. I wonder if the Parenting editors are considering deleting my bio over there and replacing it with: WHINES A LOT.

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Don't worry guys, I'm going to take over this blogging thing to SAVE US ALL.

Oooh! Oooh! What did you think of Project Runway last night? I thought [SPOILER!] Bettie Page and her vaguely reminiscent of Daniel V's orchid dress should have won. But that's because I think I like Bettie Page and can't stand The Suede. Oh well.


Labor's starting to look pretty good

It's 5:30 in the morning. I came downstairs at 4:30. I think I've been awake since 3:30.

When I went to bed I had dark thoughts swirling in my head. I was uncomfortable. I fell asleep eventually, but I woke up when one of my arms was doing that "I am about to turn black and fall off!" code red alert to my brain. And I couldn't get comfortable again. My whole body ached. My feet, my calves, my thighs, my arms, my neck, my back. I dug my old pregnancy pillow out from under the bed, but that made me more uncomfortable. After a while I decided that if I was going to be uncomfortable I might as well be watching the early national news programs I always miss from being out here on the West Coast.

I thought I'd fall back asleep on the couch. But I made a peanut butter sandwich. And started reading blogs. Here's my new favorite site.

Phillip came down to check on me and that's when I cried. Just a little. Because my legs are just aching and I have no idea why. Because I haven't had time to go to a yoga class or bust out that 'Fit Mama' DVD a friend let me borrow when I was pregnant with Jack. I'm so tired. And did I mention Phillip is working late tonight? And can't tell me when he'll be home? And he'll be working late again on Thursday?

Around 10:30 Jack and I will meet some friends at a park. There's supposed to be a steel drums concert at noon if we can make it that long. That's my big plan for the day. I hope to God he takes a long afternoon nap. And somehow I will make it through the afternoon and evening. Yesterday he started to get whiny around dinnertime, his fingers jammed in his mouth. We gave him Motrin at bedtime, thinking the teeth are starting back up. Poor little guy.

I get scared thinking about how I will get through a day alone. We go to the zoo, we go to the wading pool, we visit friends, we run errands. My mom is always surprised when I tell her what we did that day, because I'm always saying how tired I am. But staying home is not an option. I get exhausted entertaining Jack at home. He's pretty good about playing by himself, but the minutes just drag by. At the wading pool, on the other hand, we're both having fun and it's practically time for dinner by the time we get home.

Sometimes I get on a roll in the house. I'll start cleaning or organizing or doing fifteen loads of laundry. Jack likes to "help". He seems to be fine doing his own thing (unless I am sitting at the computer, he can't STAND me sitting at the computer). I'll stick him in the high chair and wash the floor. Or do the dishes. Or bake something. But most of the time he is playing with his stacking cups and I am sitting on the couch, totally bored, watching the clock tick time.

But I don't want to be doing anything else, you know? It has occurred to me that pregnancy could have been just as uncomfortable the first time around as it is this time, except I wasn't hauling a kid through the house all day. I went to work and sat at a desk for 8 hours. I went to bed when I felt like it. I woke up with an alarm and slept in on weekends. I napped when I got home from work. I went to yoga and planned the nursery and sat in the brand new upholstered rocker, imagining our new baby sleeping inside the new crib.

This time I'm carrying 20 some pounds up and down the stairs all day. I wake up early and go to bed late. I don't always nap when I have the chance. I don't go to yoga because we want to spend time with each other. I didn't bother to take my doctor up on her offer to prescribe pregnancy massage (PRESCRIBE!) because I didn't know when I'd actually get around to scheduling it.

I'm so tired. Everything hurts. Does anyone want to come over for dinner? I have a frozen pizza. And a bottle of wine I'm saving for when this baby is finally born, but I'll open it for you.