HO.LY. ----

Anyone want to hear some numbers?

1.5 cm
50% eff.

If that means anything to you, then please join me as I start to PANIC.

:) ? !

p.s.? My husband remembers getting a doctor's report of "1.5 cm" last time. We went to Labor & Delivery that very night.

panic panic panic panic panic...

Coming back

I'm feeling things again, spiritually. Throughout this pregnancy, and even before then, I guess, I've felt like I had this dark hallway in my heart that nothing was getting through. Not depression, not sadness, just a flatline of emotion, especially concerning faith and matters of spirit. Oh, I've gone to church; I've prayed here and there. But nothing real, nothing genuine seemed to stay at the forefront.

Of course, we were so busy. For so long. And I let that stress really take over my thoughts and push out the clean breath of knowing how small I am, knowing how good God is, and living for that every day. Instead I lived for details and schedules and had nearly forgotten to look up at the sky once in a while, and take that clean breath.

Lately I can feel my heart coming back. I wonder if it's the nearness of new life, the impending birth of a new baby, and my inner self instinctively knowing that it's about to be washed - baptised again - by love and hope for her?

I find things are moving me that haven't, in a year: A song on the radio this morning, one that has been released a long while, and I've heard but never really tuned into, reached me today and got me teary. (It prays that God will "Cover up my heart,/ cover up my soul,/ cover up my life/ and everything I know/... and I felt the words exactly when I heard it today.) Last night in bed my hands and fingers throbbed, and while my first thought was, "Gawd, why me? Why this? It HURTS..." my second thought was, "Wait, be still and grateful -- this pain is a gift. The gift of a life that we get to have and hold and be responsible for. God? I'd rather be thankful for this privilege."

Getting his own juice

My wee baby son, who not so long ago was barely learning to talk
and then stepping down stairs, and learning to do lots of other big-boy things, is now in front of the fridge he opened, pouring his own apple juice and not. even. spilling. it.

Wait, hang on... he remembered to close the fridge door when he was done.

Good thing that as I finished that paragraph he also asked me urgently to help him, "I can't do 'Menu,' Mama! Can't do 'Menu!'" (on the DVD remote). Whew, he still needs me. :)

Little dude had a fever yesterday and was just so pathetic. Laying down on the couch of his own free will? What is that? Covered with a blanket, no less. He did that TWICE. Thank goodness they haven't taken Children's Tylenol off the shelves yet, though I'm sure that's coming. My friend who was born on a farm in the fifties reminds me that his mom gave him a spoonful of turpentine when his stomach hurt. Y'know, to EASE the pain. HA! I am sure we'll have to revert to that in this next uber-regulated, nothing's-safe-to-sell day and age. It'll be like the bomb hit or something and we have to start over from scratch.

But I digress.

So he's home with me today and we're trying to keep it low-key, but he obviously feels
fine now. We were just outside playing -- kicking the soccer ball. He's pretty darn good -- can stop it when it's coming to him, and kick it back in a fairly straight line. He's also being brave: willing to go retrieve the soccer ball when it rolls near the yard with three (fenced-in) big, barky labs. He totally would NOT have done that a year ago. He would have cried 'til I did it for him. We play board games like Parker Brothers is going out of style: Sorry, Disney Candyland (at least twice a day each), and sometimes Leapfrog Bingo and Caribou. He knows that an Eleven in Sorry means he can either move eleven spaces or switch with an opponent. (He doesn't always choose the most strategic of the two, but HEY.) He goes to the bathroom all by himself -- moves the stepstool under the light switch to turn the light on himself, then scoots it back to the potty. He even sometimes washes his hands if I shout at him a little. He tolerates one or two spicier foods. He fork-cuts his own pieces into smaller bites, if they're too big. He'll sit across from me at the table and color with markers for a span of ten or fifteen minutes.

He's still not brushing his own teeth so DH or I do it, which is getting to be a pain. He's still not over making a giant mess at mealtime by smearing something on his vinyl placemat. He's still employing the whine tactic a lot when he thinks he's not going to get his way. He still wants me to lie down with him as he falls asleep.

But as a general rule, the kid is actually growing up, right in front of my very eyes. I'm not going to know what to do when a new infant shows up next to him, and reinforces this fact by her very presence.

My baby.

Productivity

Well! After a particularly good morning on the work-front, wherein I completed Contract Negotiations for one client (sounds impressive but has really been a giant pain in my ass for 4 months -- or is that a pain in my giant ass?), compiled some data and made Pivot Tables for my boss (hear me ROAR! Pivot Tables are HARD for me! Excel-hater here...), and wrote a stunning, "outstanding" email to another client (acc'd to the VP who reviewed it).... I am pretty much mentally pooped. It may be all I can do to read blogs and appear busy the rest of the day.

I also need something chocolate. Oh, vending machine? I fly to thee.

However, my productivity shall continue tonight: I plan to pack the ever-important hospital bag. I think I can get away with a small-ish tote bag this time. All I'm going to take are the following:

-- iPod and ear buds (but they live in my purse)
-- magazines like People and Cosmo: no real books!
-- lip balm
-- gum
-- a present for AJ "from Baby Sister"
-- my camera, OBVIOUSLY
-- a couple of nightgown-type garments for me
-- a couple of going-home-type garments for her
-- a few snacks I like... i.e., NOT Goldfish
-- a small makeup bag with the essentials (toothbrush, paste, comb, shampoo, powder foundation and lipgloss)
-- pads and possibly some good, big underwear (although last time I did get pretty friendly with the fishnet variety the hospital provides)
-- a bottle and some formula just in case
-- a clean pillowcase to put on the pillow I will be bringing from my very own bed

I don't know if hubby wants me to include any items for him since we'll be close to home this time. Probably a toothbrush would be wise. I'm thinking even my going-home outfit can just be retrieved the first time someone is available. I figure there will be much more running in-between hospital and house this time, with AJ to attend to, and no interstate on the paththankGod.

What makes me excited about this packing list is that I probably need to run by our favorite store to get some of these things. (See. Spot.) And AJ requested that his Daddy pick him up from school today, so Hooray! You'll know where to find me at 5:00 p.m.

Happy Friday.

iPod, and adding Injury to Insult

This morning I heard two songs on the radio that I want to download immediately:

Goo Goo Dolls: Better Days (2005)

and

Brandon Heath: I'm Not Who I Was (2007)

I'm also psyched about a few of the songs from this album, by my real-life friend from college. Go listen! Buy! He is very, very talented.

I've been compiling a list of other songs I want, and I'm excited to have a big gift card for iTunes from Christmas. New music is something I haven't wanted in a long time. I think because I so rarely get to listen to my iPod anyway -- or if I do, it's with AJ in the car, and he requests the same songs every time. Good songs! But the same ones. "Particle Man," "No! No! No!," and the Spiderman theme song as sung by the Ramones (I think). :)

All these songs I want are really calm, acoustic-y ones, which complements my theme for early 2008 -- trying to relax myself and chill out before the impending Unrelaxed State due Feb 24th. I hope one of these becomes a real favorite. During AJ's birth, I had a very sweet song stuck in my head (Amy Grant's "My Jesus, I Love Thee"), and I really hope that happens again for this Baby's entrance to the world. I might have to employ the iPod, actually, to make it happen. We'll see.

- - - - - ...and now back to our regularly scheduled complaining... - - - - -

Okay, this third trimester stuff is really just NOT a whole lot of fun, can I tell you? In the past week I've had a couple of very painful nights of crampy bullsh*t, where my lower abdomen just feels like it's on FIRE. They're not regular-interval cramps like contractions, just one loooong contraction I guess. On top of that, the pelvic pain and hip pain is beginning to really hurt during the night. I mean, I do sit most of the day, and commute; there is a lot of weight helping gravity's natural tendency there. And the launch-pad's creaky beams are making room and making ready, so okay, I can deal. I know it's all normal -- the doctor told me so -- and I'm not a first-timer. I'm trying not to get all het up about "normal."

I'm also getting BIGGER as we speak, and last week I had to go buy, 5 weeks before I'm due mind you, 3 pairs of pants in size large because my mediums are just not working anymore. Fine, whatever, I'm Large and in Charge. But on top of the pain already emanating from down there, Monday I wear some of the new pants without washing them first (desperate times), and the seam is so rough on the insides of my (dry, can't-reach-'em-with-lotion) thighs that now I also have to deal with flaming, bumpetty skin.

Gah. It is no wonder pregnant women waddle. (Warm baths every night have been very helpful for the contrax, by the way, although I can't lay down in the bath. I just sit there and pour big cupfuls of water over my shoulders for about 30 minutes. Quite nice. Send more bubble bath.)

What does a girl have to do to get a doc to write "Bed Rest" on a little white slip of paper? Because I'm thinking that would make it allllll better.

This is more like it

Not Snow Much

Well, metro Atlanta survived our fifteen flakes of snow with nary a frostbitten pinky toe, as usual making mountains out of molehills. Me included. I guess we just can't help getting excited to see the white stuff we hear so much about falling out of the actual sky. AJ and I were coming out of the grocery store when it started, and his first-time enthusiasm coupled with my nostalgia made for tongues hanging out to catch it, and positively joyful laughter as we soaked up the wintery-ness of it all. It was so fun to watch him. I may have accidentally mentioned that if it snowed a lot we wouldn't have school. And in my defense, they were predicting a lot of frozen rain and low overnite temps, which might have wrecked the streets and power lines... but it didn't. It all ended with some very uninteresting rain, making things just wet and annoying instead of "fairytale wonderland." Oh well.

Luckily, AJ went off to school this morning without any protesting, which has become pretty rare until this week. I think we're over yet another little tantrum hurdle -- when do these stop, exactly? Sigh. He's doing great in his new classroom, though, bringing home artwork where he has lined up elephant pictures from biggest to smallest, or drawn lines in diagonals across the page from SOCK to SHOE and HAT to HEAD and other things that match. I just love watching him learn.

I went to the OB yesterday and have finally gone all the way through their rotation, so I saw a doc I'd seen before, and decided I really like him. He's got a gentle bedside manner but tells it like it is, and I appreciate both of those things very much. Here's hoping he is on call the day I deliver. We've also got the nursery coming together (slowly but surely) and I washed a big load of itsy bitsy clothes -- none of which really needed washing. My friend who donated girl things to me obviously washed them before she gave them to me -- they even smelled like detergent -- and I had washed my own stuff before binning it three years ago.... but still. [Aside -- I am surprised at how many of AJ's onesies and little sleep gowns I am getting to reuse. He seems so BOY now, I forgot that sometimes 'baby' is just 'baby,' no matter what flavor you get. We had a ton of yellows, oranges, and greens and I'm so excited to cuddle and squeeze see them again. Hee.] You feel like you WANT TO do those Dreft loads. It's a ritual or something, a true PART OF getting ready for a baby. Next up is the casserole-freezing, I guess. And muffins. (Inspiring!)

High Class Trash

I am strangely addicted to yet another BravoTV hit, The Real Housewives of Orange County. Show of hands: Anyone? It's a love-hate thing for me -- these women are portrayed as whiny, bitchy, have-it-alls -- and I do mean ALL, we're talking millions of gadollars here. Exactly the type of person that makes me gag.... yet I can't. stop. watching. (Not meaning to judge, of course, because I certainly have everything I could ever want or need and *I* certainly whine and bitch, but you know what I mean.)

Last night rewarded my enduring XBox Live and hockey all week (love you Honey, and there's nothing else on anyway) with TWO episodes. In the first, they were having a Botox Party at a local plastic surgeon's office, complete with sushi, wine, and free consultations. Now I'm no expert on plastic surgeons, but um.... it seems to me if the invitation said they were going to seduce me with fancy wine in a big glass and THEN conduct my free consultation, I would notice that *something is fishy about this.* Sure enough, once the 39-year-old housewife was drunk enough, she thought everything the doctor said was either hysterical or GOSPEL TRUTH. She "wasn't planning to have anything done, but after the doctor told me I needed this lift and that lift..." she jumped right up onto the table for a Botox injection right then and there.

Brilliant of the doctor, I guess. I should give him credit for being a smart businessman and knowing his customers.

The second episode was the 39-year-old's 40th birthday party in which she MOANED and CRIED and RENT HER GARMENTS about turning 40, on her yacht... until her husband presented her with a BIG FAKE "I spent my last few dollars on this" Diamond encrusted -- no, Diamond Covered Rolex. And oh, ho, ho, by "last few" he meant "forty-thousand." The other women, in their confessional scenes where they speak directly to the camera, were all, "It's a rite of passage to receive your first (diamond) Rolex." BWAHH HAHAHAHAHA! God, they are funny. My first Fossil must be the middle-class equivalent. (I love my Fossil.)

After that, she didn't mind being forty so much, though. Go fig. Time to get drunk again, she said, pass the champagne.

It does sort-of bother me that they're calling all these women "housewives" when a) most of them have housecleaners and gardeners and pool-boys, which I'm not sure but I think means they don't fit the traditional definition of the word housewife. And b) two of them aren't even married, they've been divorced for more than 10 years each. ("You keep using dat word... I do not tink it means what you tink-a it means.") In Season One there was a single girl on the show who happened to be dating a very rich Orange County guy whose money she spent hither and yon. Dear Bravo: NOT A HOUSEWIFE.

To think, this used to be the network that showed intelligent, arthouse movies and James Lipton.

And yet... I'm a bit excited that they're doing a New York City spin-off this spring.

Let it snow, and photos

Ooh, they're predicting some sort of cold and precipitation for Wednesday/Thursday! Yay! Maybe we can get a snow-day out of it. You know, big southern city goes all Chicken Little when there's a potential for white stuff coming out of the sky.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I have been meaning to post a few pictures of the New Year's Eve wedding bash, mostly to show off the world's most adorable three-year-old in a tuxedo:

Practicing our runway walk before the festivities...

Charming the ladies on the dance floor...

Sampling his bartending skills (Sprite, meatballs, pretzels, chocolate-dipped marshmallows, and a strawberry) ... doesn't look like it's much of a hit...hey, I didn't care, it kept him occupied...

and finally...

Causing mom and dad to burst with pride and joy and Happy New Year feelings that will last and last. Awwwwww. Look, all dressed up we're pretty festive!

Things I love

Sunrise. The cool, gradual lift of darkness.


My car. A comfortable ride.


Happy baristas at the drive thru.


The potential of a weekend and a Target gift card in my purse.

Starting to think

I am starting to really think about just HOW this thing is going to work, this BABY thing.

....HOW is it going to work, y'all??

I mean, we had our little routine for getting up and out of the house with one baby:

>get awakened 4:30 or 5am
>warm bottle
>feed bottle, snooze in chair
>place baby back in crib
>go back to bed and snooze a while, if lucky

...and that evolved naturally into "with one kid:"

>wake with alarm, hit snooze
>let kid sleep while we're showering
>wake kid, get him snack or breakfast
>turn on his shows
>get him dressed

We now get it done within about an hour-fifteen (and usually without much screamingKNOCKWOOD). But what exactly happens when you add another baby to that mix? We already wake up at the crack of dawn -- well, I mean, I KNOW that the actual 'crack' of dawn is entirely relative when there's an infant involved -- so am I going to have to wake up and feed the infant at 5:00 am and then just continue on to our regular 5:45 start-time for showers and cereal and shows and scurrying around the dresser and bathroom sink? I guess I will. With no extra time for the snooze button! What am I going to DOOOOO without my SNOOOOOOZE? Sob.

I would say screw the whole thing while I'm on maternity leave, we'll just wake up when we wake up... but we need to keep AJ on his regular schedule as much as we can because GOD KNOWS he is better when he's in his groove. He needs a hat or something that warns: "Does not respond well to change."

Oh wait, I just remembered -- at least during maternity leave I can take my Today Show nap. I mean, if this baby cooperates. It's just crazy that you can't predict! Anything! She may not sleep the same way AJ did! I'm going to have to re-learn everything... with an extra distraction just for a challenge, you know.

Where did I read yesterday... someone's comments section -- a mom said "You're just tired for 16 years. You get used to it."

Every mom is superwoman, I think -- especially those of you with more than TWO! I BOW IN YOUR DIRECTION, YOU AMAZING CREATURES.

The glow of pregnancy

Here's me, showing off my World-Championship Ladies Bowling League gear.

No, wait, that's not it. Those are my "ROCK ON!" eyes and snarl.

No... no... hang on, I'll get it: These are the wrist braces I purchased today from Walgreen's so that my hands will cease feeling like they've been ground to stumps with a hacksaw.

Carpal tunnel, baby. One of the many millions of things they just don't tell you about pregnancy. I never had carpal tunnel before -- even though I've worked mostly at the computer for ten years. AJ gave me a mild case, which never completely disappeared but had become mostly unnoticeable until a few months ago. But that was just some tingling and numbness. Baby #2 is really letting me know how much she needs my good blood flow with PAAAAAIN. So I'm sporting my Hott New Look for winter. In a lovely twist of fate, the weather's gotten warm enough for short sleeves here, for a couple of days, so I can't even hide these monstrosities under a nice sweater. I feel like the biggest dork! All for a good cause, of course, and the braces actually do seem to help. They're a bitch to type with (again, ironic since that's probably why/how I got it in the first place), but the real test will be sleeping with them tonight. That's when the pain level usually shoots up to eleven -- sometimes I'll wake up at night to pee and have to shake and massage my wrists out for ten minutes before they loosen back up.

In other pregnancy griping, my stomach hurts. Just... all the time. I mean, crampy kind of hurting. No, it's not REALLY all the time, just seems like a lot. Don't worry, I have counted. No more than one "contraction" (Braxton-Hicks, obviously) in any given hour. They just seem long. Maybe I'm doing too much. Maybe I need to spend more time on the couch with my friends Haagen and Dazs.

While I was in Walgreen's, I peeked at InStyle magazine's cover story on Katie Holmes. I had no idea she is 30. Here I thought she was a teenage bride but, not really. Just a girl, in love with a boy, OH SIIIIIGHhhhhh, and she loves being a mom. I was disappointed the interviewer didn't ask her one single time if Tom is as wacko as he seems. It was all, like, professional and benefit-of-the-doubt and stuff. Oh well. Katie said "the weather is here, wish you were [as] beautiful [as me]." (Truly, the photos of her were somewhat bizarre and beautiful.)

*********

Have I told you my secret weapon for parenting? J-E-L-L-O. I swear, the days I make it, you'd think I hung the very moon. Today, just hinting that there was Jello in the fridge for dessert meant AJ cleaned up his snack debris, played nicely with the neighbor kids, read stories willingly with his Dad while I got dinner ready, Pleased and Thank You'd all through the meal ("Mama, do you want me to please pass anything to you?"), patiently endured his bath/shampoo, and went to bed when I said "It's bedtime."

Maybe I'm wrong -- maybe it's the new dresser. But I think it's the Jello.

*********

Today I received my customized Starbucks gift card in the mail. Have you heard of this? You can create "art," or simply choose a coffee cup with your "signature" drink spelled out on it, or any number of other mod designs. I can't wait to use it tomorrow. Thanks, Mom!

More bold moves

First it was OUT with the list-making.

Then today, I actually said NO to something, just because I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT. This all-good-for-me, all the time, attitude is surprising.

The commitment was a request to sub for a cantor at Mass this Saturday. At first, I quickly but reluctantly typed out, "Sure, I can take it, Ralph. Hope you have a very Happy Birthday. Send me the song list if you can." Then I backspace-deleted every letter and typed,

"Sorry, Ralph, I'm afraid I'm already committed for Saturday. Hope someone else can sub for you. Have a very Happy Birthday!"

(Even though guess what? I'm not committed!) DANG, that feels good. I hit "Send" with no regret.

Look at me, I'm all zen and stuff

Believe me, if I had anything to say, I'd be blogging it. People are writing such gosh-dang funny things these first few days of 2008. I'd say it's going to be another banner year for the Mighty Internet. I just hope I'll have something to contribute, too.

This weekend we're going to get a dresser for AJ's room, and once we have that, I feel like many other things will snap into place. I can move his clothes into there, and thus move Baby's clothes out of the corner of MY room, and once AJ's clothes are there, his toys might as well be, too, and I can CLEAN UP FREAKIN' CHRISTMAS which is as of yet, still strewn about the living room floor. (Just his toys, I mean, and the tree. Which we plan to take down tonight.)

(He's already sleeping in his new room, btw. I think he likes it there.)

So really, that one item of business ought to make my entire home come to order in one hot second -- at least that's how I'm choosing to look at it. All hail the dresser.

I have not made any single list in 2008. Not counting my work to-do list, of course. But I'll tell you, not having every item of crap in front of me on a dog-eared piece of paper has greatly helped my mood. I'm just taking things one at a time and trying to be careful of getting overwhelmed. Sometimes I start listing in my head, and have to stop myself. (Dreft... hospital bag... mostly baby-arrival things. But I have time.)

I wonder how long I'll be able to keep this up? More later. It's Friday night, after all!

Just fine, and how was yours?

I suppose the thing to do would be to get out my to-do list, place it neatly on my desk, and start a clean page with "Jan 2 - Jan 4," underlined. Then begin listing out the must-do work-tasks of the day: finish the XYZ sitemap. Start the annual review paperwork. Invoice job #4022. Update project tasks list.

But GAWD, doesn't that all sound depressing?

Instead, I'm still trying to enjoy some of the lingering scent of the holidays that have come and gone. (But not the evergreen centerpiece my mother-in-law sent us; no, no, it was lovely -- beautiful, even -- but I think my pregnancy hormones are misinterpreting pine needles. To me it smells like B.O. every time I walk by it. What a bummer. I usually love evergreen.) The scents I like to remember are the ones of tape and wrapping paper being ripped and balled up, of mashed potatoes that turned out smooth and not-too-salty, of plentiful Honey-Baked Ham leftovers but Taco Bell for lunch on the 27th ANYWAY, and this year, of bridesmaids' hairspray and delicious lemony wedding cake.

Yes, my brother-in-law got married Monday night, New Year's Eve! We had a fancy party to attend for the first time in... ever. It was nice to get all dressed up and go someplace with good food, a dance floor, and an open bar (Sprite for me, WITH LIME, oooooh). In general the "wedding weekend" was a bit of a logistical disaster, but I think that comes with the territory. I managed to keep my good attitude up front EXCEPT:

> a couple of hours before the wedding -- when my DARLING BIL the groom called his mother to "run to the mall" for him real quick, and by the way, if I come over would you make me something to eat?? ...and then...

> during the ceremony, for which AJ had walked BEAUTIFULLY down the aisle holding hands with me and generally making my heart burst with pride and joy, and looking SO ADORABLE in his tuxedo... when he began whining out loud for 15 minutes straight, "Mama I wantta go OUUUUUT. I wantta go OUUUUUT. I need to go POTTTTY. (Which he didn't, but was using as an excuse, to which I replied: Hush, honey, in one minute.) It's been ONE MINUUUUUUTE..... WAAAHhhh..." causing the minister to notch up his volume a bit for the ring ceremony. I finally decided there was nothing to do but take him out and I will always remember it as stomping back down the aisle and then speaking harshly to the little guy outside through embarrassed hot tears, as everyone else watched the bride and groom kiss and be announced as Mr. and Mrs. I hate that I couldn't just laugh and say "HEY, he's THREE," and forgive him on the spot for nothing -- he did nothing wrong, he was just himself, a three-year-old asked to stand in a fancy suit and be still. But I let my pride get the best of me.

Definitely lost my cool there for a moment.

I shouldn't even post that -- I'd rather not remember it, except when AJ himself gets engaged someday and has a three-year-old niece or nephew or cousin that he thinks would be a great nominee for "wedding party member." Heh.

Anyway, we're back, the New Year has begun. I may or may not make any lists today, and my only resolution is to try to make each day better than the last. I think that about covers everything.