Happy Birthday Josiah

This morning, when we arrived at Cracker Barrel for breakfast (you insisted on going there because they have toys), you proudly announced to the waitress that it was your birthday.

"I'm three!" you exclaimed. "See how big and strong I am?"

And you are. Big and strong and absolutely fabulous.

You amaze me every day.

I got all teary eyed when you noticed a man standing on the side of the road after a fender bender and you asked me if we could stop and pray for him. Or when you told me after you noticed your cousin misbehaving that it's not nice to talk about other people when they're in trouble but only to talk about ourselves. Your compassion and empathy goes beyond your years.

You also amaze me with your incredible energy and zeal. Sometimes that's a good thing (like when you excitedly play soccer at the gym or race around the playground) and sometimes that's a bad thing (don't even get me started on that time in the bookstore when you climbed to the top of the bookshelf and dove off while screaming that you were superman). I admit, sometimes it's hard for me to keep up with you, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I love the fact that you're always moving, exploring, questioning, wondering and playing.

You're in a "why" phase now. Everything is a why. Why is the sky blue? Why is broccoli healthy? Why did Jesus get born in a stable? Why did the boy want a girl to go sleighing with him in Jingle Bells? You have a question-- and an answer-- for everything. Why? I'm not sure. But sometimes I have to remind myself that I need to enjoy the moment and not get irritated with the constant why why whying.

Anyway, I'm getting misty-eyed now. I can't believe how fast you've grown up-- and I can't beleive that God has entrusted me with such a tender yet energetic, feisty yet sweet soul. I pray every day that I am up for the job-- and that you channel that feisty energy in a way that glorifies Him.

I love you, Joey. Don't grow up too fast.

Happy Birthday Kate!

Happy Birthday Kate!






My baby turns one today. My baby. My teeny, tiny little "Kitter Kat" (or "Titter Tat" as Joey says) is one year old.

I'm feeling all sorts of things. I'm thrilled that she's turning one. Thrilled to be done with sleepless nights (she started sleeping through the night three whole days ago after a huge and nearly successful effort to be the oldest baby EVER not to sleep through the night). I'm thrilled to be done with baby food purees and pacifiers that fall on the floor and spit-up soaked clothes (mine, not hers). I'm also sad. Sad that we're done with rocking a sleeping baby on my chest (she's too busy to put up with that holding still stuff) and sad that before long, she'll be a walking, talking "big girl" with the attitude to show for it.

One thing I'm NOT feeling is the baby bug (I'm hearing a collective sigh of relief from everyone who has spent any time with me while I'm pregnant). When Joey turned one, I got the baby bug bad. My baby wasn't a baby and I needed another one....and four days later I was pregnant. This time, no way. I'd love another baby, but I know better. I know what it's like to be pregnant with a one-year-old underfoot. I have not forgotten this time.

So, I'm ready. I'm ready to make the transition to a baby-less house. A house where there aren't any sing-songy baby toys or breast pump parts drying on the dish rack. I'm ready to say that I have two kids... not two babies. I'm ready. Even if I wasn't, I don't really have a choice, do I?

Happy Birthday, Katers. I thank God for my precious baby girl every single day... and I fall more in love with you every moment I spend with you. I can't wait to see what this year will bring.

101 Things You Can Do With A Knee Sock

1. Wear it with a plaid mini skirt.
2. Use it as a makeshift exercise band.
3. Cut the toes off for leg-warmer emergencies
4. Fill it with.... OK, who am I kidding. There's not much you can do with a knee sock other than hike it up to your knee and wear it.

My boss (Abby) at Parents Connect just wrote a book called Crafty Mama: Makes 49 Fast, Fabulous, Foolproof (Baby & Toddler) Projects. I ordered it in an attempt to expand my crafty horizons (because my last attempt at crafty-ness ended in $40 wasted dollars and a closet full of half-used craft supplies).


But not this time.... Ta Da! Check out the cool headbands Kate is wearing in the pics. I made them (all by myself!) using knee socks and a silk flower. That's right...a knee sock! Who knew that something so seemingly useless could be so useful. Abby's book is full of fun projects like this one-- easy crafts that you'll actually use (not that a cross-stiched kleenex box cover isn't useful). Cool, huh?

What's next on my crafting agenda? Who knows. Check back... I might just make a sweater out of rubber bands or a pair of shoes out of old matchsticks and bees wax (or maybe not).

Unpotty Training

Do you think it's possible to unpotty train a kid?

I know, I know. Potty training is a milestone... a rite of passage. I should be proud that my son is now a big-boy and has tiny blue boxer briefs to show for it.

But being a mom of a potty trained kid isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Take yesterday for example. I was kindof on a roll. I had both kids out the door and in the car at a reasonable hour. Both kids had clothes on (so what if Joey's shorts were a bit dirty) and both kids had eaten breakfast. I think I even combed Kate's hair.

Before you start patting me on the back, let me just tell you how the cookie crumbled (or the Lighning McQueen underpants unraveled if you will...)

About five miles down the road, Joey said those six dreaded words: "Mommy! I have to go potty!". Gulp. I squeeled into the nearest gas station and ran into the mini-mart with a kid under both arm. I grabbed the key and raced to the bathroom.

My pride in making it that far without an accident was short-lived because when I stepped inside the tiny bathroom and saw the dingy, brown toilet and the filthy, wet paper towels on the floor, I wanted to turn and run. Of course, by now, Joey was doing the dreaded "potty dance" and I had no choice.

As I piled fourteen layers of one-ply onto the seat, Joey grabbed the roll of toilet paper and spun it around, pulling a long string out before I grabbed him and held him haphazardly over the toilet, begging him to pee quickly without so much as touching a single thing. Not a single thing.

We stood there for nearly an eternity, with me balancing a pantless two-year-old on one knee with a baby in my arms and a grimy bathroom key between my chin and my shoulder. I oh-so-calmly cheered my son on as he squeezed out the teeniest, tiniest dribble of pee. I swear. Had he peed his pants, I doubt I would've noticed.

When he finished, he asked for a sticker.

I scrubbed him down with anti-bacterial gel and left before we all caught some deadly infection or worse, he decided he had to pee again.

I'm seriously considering weaning him off the big-boy draws and putting him back into pull-ups. Maybe the under-draw fairy can come get them and trade them for a fancy, new box of diapers. I figure that after a few weeks, he'll forget all about the potty and I can switch out the pull-ups for regular old diapers and go back to my safe (and easy) diaper-changing world. I'll even give him a sticker every time he goes in his diaper without telling me about it.

Picture Perfect

When Joey was little, we took hundreds (OK, thousands) of pictures of him. He cooed. He smiled. He waved. He adored the camera. The camera adored him. You get the picture.

Lately, well, he still adores the camera but it doesn't like him so much.

Late last fall, I tried to find some good shots for our Christmas card photo and realized that Joey hadn't taken a single good shot in months. We had tons of shots of his back, his sprawled legs, his eyelids-- but nothing with him looking at the camera or smiling. Nope, my little boy couldn't hold still for the 2 seconds it took for the aperture to close and the flash to go off.

Never fear... like all good parents, Cam and I had a solution. We ordered a NikonD40X, a fancy-schmancy camera that took 10 shots per second. We figured that even Joey could hold still for 1/10 of a second. We were wrong.

Last weekend, like good Texans, we headed out to the blue bonnets to take pictures. Kate (being young and immobile) smiled and cooed and took about 600 fabulous shots (I swear). Joey, well, that whole 1/10 of a second thing didn't work so well. Not a one. We got a few that were decent, but not a single eyes-at-the-camera, white-toothy-grin shot.

We're still trying. The day my quest for the perfect shot ends, you'll be the first to find out cause I'll blow it up and post it all over my blog and flickr page for all to see. One of these days.

Potty Time

I have a friend (I won't name names) who bought a potty for her two-year-old son, he sat down, tried it, liked it and never wore a diaper again. No offense to those of you who have potty-trained geniuses, but I hate people like that. Those are the type of people whose morning sickness is cured by eating a cracker-- or whose kids stay in time-out just because Mommy said so.

I, on the other hand, have been "potty training" Joey since November. We started out by buying a potty. He didn't like it. Then we bought a firetruck that he got to use only after he went potty. He liked the firetruck but not enough to sacrifice his diapers for it. We bought stickers. He didn't care. We bought jelly beans. I ate them before he had the chance (hey, I was stressed-- this potty training this is hard!).

So, now it's March. Potty time is part of our morning routine. We get up, have a glass (or two) of juice, have breakfast, then head upstairs for potty time. Joey sits (and sits and sits) on the potty while watching a DVD and I nurse Kate. Most days, he sits there for thirty (or even forty) minutes. He never pees. Without fail, he pees the instant I put his diaper on after he gets up.

This morning, the routine was going forward without a hitch (Joey sitting and not peeing, Kate and I watching while she nursed). About thirty minutes in, I saw a look of sheer panic cross his face: He couldn't hold it anymore. Before I could get up (ready to applaud), he whipped his little thing out of the potty, stood up and peed all over the floor. I didn't know whether to cheer (he went ouside of his diaper) or cry (he went on the floor). Either way, I'm looking at this as progress.

When you've been potty traning for five months, anything is progress. Baby steps, right? Baby steps.

Fix it and Forget It

Recently, we've had a lot going on in the evening time. Cam's had games, Joey's had playgroups and we've been trying to go to the gym and go swimming as a family at least once a week. That means that I'm having to find dinners that I can throw in the oven on time-bake that will be all ready when I get home. Sometimes I make things on the weekend and freeze it until I'm ready to use it. Other times I make dinner while the kids are napping and then all I have to do during dinner hour is throw it in the oven. I have lots of favorites, but here's my latest:

Chipotle Stacked Enchiladas:

Sauce:

1 onion (coarsely chopped)
3 anaheim peppers (coarsely chopped)
3 cloves of garlic (whole is ok)
2 cans tomato paste
2 tsp. salt
1-2 chipotle peppers in adobo sauce (2 is pretty spicy so start with one.. or if you're cooking for kids, omit the chipotles)
1-2 tbsp. adobo sauce (once again, it can get pretty spicy to be careful).

Put onion, peppers and garlic in large skillet. Brown over medium heat about 10 minutes. Put warm peppers and onions and remaining ingredients in food processor or blender and process until smooth. You may have to add water to get sauce to the right consistency.

Enchiladas

1 recipe chipotle sauce (above)
2 cups cooked shredded chicken, beef or pork (I use leftovers!)
20 corn tortillas
1 can black beans
4 cups shredded cheddar cheese
1 fresh tomato (diced)
1 bunch fresh cilantro (chopped)
1 bunch green onions (chopped)

1. Pour a thin layer of sauce on bottom of 9 X 13 pan.
2. Cover sauce with tortillas.
3. Cover tortillas with 1/3 of the chicken, 1/3 of the black beans and more sauce.
4. Repeat three times.
5. Cover entire dish with cheese.
6. Cover cheese with tomatos, cilantro and green onions.
7. Bake at 350 for 45-50 minutes until warm and cheese is brown.

Dictionary 101

I'm starting to realize that the dictionary left out some very handy mom terms...

1. Booty Call: When you are paged over the loudspeaker when you are at an event (and your kid is in the nursery) to come change your kid's diaper.

ie. Yesterday at the gym, I got a booty call while I was taking a shower. Joey had done his, ahem, business and his business was large enough that his diaper didn't contain it. He was covered. His socks. His armpits.

2. Nudey Tunes: An incident that involves significant amounts of pee, poop or spit-up, enough to drench an outfit, leaving your child naked. Naturally, Nudey Tunes incidents only happen when mom is unprepared and failed to pack extra clothing and/or an extra diaper.

ie. Immediately after the aforementioned (see "Booty Call") indicent at the gym, I realized that we had a Nudey Tunes incident on our hands. I ended up carrying Joey out of the gym (in 40 degree weather) wearing nothing but a stolen gym towel. Don't worry... I fully intend to return the towel on my next visit. Really, I do.

3. Unhappy Hour: The hour between 4:30 and 5:30 pm when some people are happily carefree as they are about to get off work and head to a bar where they can indulge in dollar cocktails while us mommies sit at home with exhausted and starving kids and count the minutes until Daddy gets home.

ie. Yesterday, during unhappy hour, I literally called my husband twelve times to see when he was going to get home. While I was otherwise occupied staring at the clock counting the seconds going by, Joey found the energy to pull all of the books off of the shelf, dump two boxes of legos down the stairs and call a random long-distance number on the house phone. My friend Susan's son Joshua decided to go swimming in the toilet during unhappy hour one day. I'm sure Joey would do the same if he thought of it.

4. Boobifier: Using one's breasts as a pacifier.

ie. I admit it: I use a boobifier instead of a pacifier. The boob is just so handy. No tiny pouch to keep track of. Nothing to clean. No fancy dishwasher racks or chemical-free soaps. I never drop the boobifier on the ground or lose it. So, Kate falls asleep nightly with a boobifier in her mouth and a grin on her face.

5. Ma Ha! Moments: Those times where you realize "Ah Ha!", if I do this, my life will be way easier.

ie. Yesterday, I had a Ma Ha moment when I realized that if I always take the time to pack a change of clothes for my kids, I would avoid complicated incidents such as the aforementioned "Nudey Tunes" incident at the gym and the infamous "airplane incident" of '06.

6. Foy: A fake toy. A regular household item that suddenly becomes your childs object of affection du jour.

ie. The page that I tore out of my Parenting Magazine yesterday is Joey's new foy. He carries it around wherever he goes and cried when we wouldn't let him sleep with it last night.

7. Wuce: The watered-down juice left in the sippy cup when you've "refilled" (a.k.a. dilluted with water) you toddler's juice glass fifteen times in the last hour.

ie. For the first few glasses, Joey is fooled by his wuce, but eventually he catches on and realizes that he's just drinking water, which results in him screaming "Aaaaaapppppplllleeeee jjjjuuuuiiiicccceee Mommy!" over and over and over until I succumb and try to ply him with "Maple Juice" a.k.a. milk mixed with apple juice.

8. Lactivism: The strange, unexplainable passion that even the calmest, least-hippie mommies have about breastfeeding.

ie. How did I, the girl who wouldn't be caught dead marching downtown in a rally, end up being a la leche league card carrying, breastfeeding-in-public-without-regard-to-a-cover-up lactivist?

Two New Babies-- One Happy Day!

This is my beautiful new nephew Jude. He was born on Monday, Jan 21st weighing in at 7 lbs. 11 oz. He lives all the way up in Kentucky which doesn't make me very happy. I just can't wait to meet the little guy. I'm going up there in a week and a half but it just doesn't seem like it's soon enough. Auntie is coming, baby boy, Auntie is coming.

The exciting news is that Cameron's cousin Ari also had a gorgeous baby girl on Monday the 21st. Evangeline (Eva) Virginia weighed over 9 lbs. and is just gorgeous.

Eggplant Polenta Bake

Cam's cousin Ari's friend (wow---four degrees of separation there!) is hosting a recipe contest on her blog-- and as we all know, I lo-ove recipe contests. SO, I'm entering it.

I thought about coming up with a new recipe, but I decided that my tried-and-true favorite is just the thing. So, here's a repost of my Eggplant Polenta Bake-- full of nutrition, hearty and simple, and so good that your family (or husbands) won't even notice the veggies!

Eggplant Polenta Bake

-Brown 2 lbs. ground turkey or Italian sausage in a large skillet. Drain.
-Add 1 chopped eggplant (sounds daunting but it's not... just rinse and chop!) and 1 chopped zucchini. Cook for 7-8 minutes with the meat until tender.
-Wilt in an entire 10 oz. bag of baby spinach
-Wilt in a lg. handful of fresh basil.
-Pour 1 jar of crushed tomatoes (or crush 4-5 of your own tomatoes) over the veggies.
-Boil 3 cups of water on the stove. Slowly pour in 1 1/2 cups ground polenta (or coarse cornmeal). Whisk vigorously until the mixture thickens. Add 1 tsp. italian seasoning and 1/2 cup parmesan cheese.
- Spread the polenta mixture on the bottom of a 9 X 13 pan.
-Cover with vegetable mixture.
-Cover with grated mozzarella and parmesan (as much as you'd like!)
-Bake for 30-40 minutes at 350 degrees.

Happy Birthday Joey!

This is the second time I've gotten teary-eyed today. The first was when Joey decided to wake up at 5:30 this morning. I think the excitement of Christmas and presents and candy and cookies and music and lights got to him and he just couldn't sleep. As I sat blurry-eyed on the couch and tried to find something for him to watch (yes, I resorted to TV...), I imagined that most toddlers were finally going to get the chance to wind down today-- to embrace a day of calm after the craziness of Christmas. Not for us, though. Nope, today held more presents and toys and cupcakes. God sure had a sense of humor when he gave Joey a Christmas birthday. Tears were flowing, and really, can you blame me? (And if you can, I'd like to see you try to explain that presents aren't an every day thing to a two-year-old who has spent the last three days in a constant state of sugar-high).

I'm crying again right now because I just can't believe my baby boy is two. Words are inept to describe the bittersweet feeling of watching your beautiful tiny baby grow and flourish. I cry tears of joy when he wraps his arms around my neck and cries "Hold you, Mommy! Carry you!" (he has his prepositions mixed up right now... so it's "Hold you! Carry you! Hug you!" instead of "Hold me! Carry me! Hug me!"). Part of me wants to stop time, yet more of me is anxious to see what God has in store for my baby boy.

I never imagined that one child could bring so much joy while simultaneously causing so much frustration. I never imagined the delight I'd feel hearing my son express his thoughts, watching as his personality and gifts emerge. Joey, I thank God every day for you. I'm so thankful that you're so full of life and joy. I'm thankful that you have such an exuberant outlook-- that everything is a delight to you. I pray that you learn to channel your strengths-- to use the gifts that God gave you to change the world like I know you will. I pray that I have the patience to smile, even when you smash play dough into my carpet and color on my walls. One day I will treasure these moments... even if they happen at 5 am.

I love you so much. Happy birthday.

Terrible Twos? Ha!

Some very interesting tidbits that I've recently learned courtesy of Joey:

Did you know...

- That red crayon comes off of walls much easier than it comes off of carpet?

- That if you tear a hole in the lining of a diaper, you will have enough tiny, pee-soaked cotton balls to cover an entire bedroom floor?

- That if you take off your pajamas and fall asleep on your bedroom floor, you will wake up at 2 am freezing cold?

- That play dough turns to clumpy slime when it's wet?

- That even the most patient preschool teachers who love spending time with other people's two-year-olds have a breaking point. Oh, and if your kid's teachers look at each other and sigh when you ask how your kid is doing, you should probably be worried.

- That "Suckerfish" is a fun word to call your sister when she's nursing?

- That even if a professional photographer takes 500 pictures of your two-year-old, more likely than not, one or two will turn out. If that.

Ahhhh... Life as a parent. Gotta love it.

Halloween by the numbers (take 2)

1-- Number of minutes that it took for Kate to start screaming after I put her costume on. For some reason, she didn't think it was comfortable to have foam balls glued to her back. Imagine that.

2-- The number of years that Joey has worn his elephant costume. I know, I know... I'm a slacker. He just looked so cute in it last year and when I discovered that it still fit, I figured that it was worth wearing twice. Plus, I figure that the 40 hours of work I put into it last year warrents using it twice (or possibly three times... look for Kate the elephant next year).

3-- The number of M & Ms that I let Joey eat last night. I know. I'm such a mean mommy.

4--The number of times that Joey woke up in the middle of the night screaming "More El-phant! More Candy!". Imagine what would've happened if I had let him eat four or five M & Ms.

5-- The number of times I burned myself on the hot glue gun while trying to make Kate's costume. My mom's sewing machine is in storage so I had to get a bit creative with my costume assembling methods.

6-- The number of "chaperones" that Joey and Kate had when we went to the Fall Festival at church. Mom, Dad, Peter & Alisa all tagged along to take pictures.

7-- The number of times that Joey has asked for "Auntie. Choo-Choo. More. Please?" today (his Auntie Alisa took him on the choo-choo last night). I told him next year. He told me NOW. Please.

8--The number of miniature Almond Joys that I ate out of the candy bowl throughout the day. Before you chastize my lack of self-control, might I remind you that I'm a nursing mother.

9-- The number of pictures that I took of Kate hanging out on her Daddy's arm. A bit overboard I admit, but she looked so darn cute perched up there.

10--The number of minutes it took me to fanegal Kate into her costume. No, it wasn't the most practical costume but it sure was adorable.

Two is much better than one

Everyone warned me that being a mom to two is much harder than being a mom to one. Perhaps. But for me, being a mom to two is ten billion times easier than being a mom to one while pregnant. I'm amazed. Sure, Kate is still sleepy from the hospital and Cameron was home for a week, but I've been on my own for a few days now and I'm loving it. There have been moments, but overall, things have gone really smoothly.

It feels so great not to be pregnant anymore... seriously. Yesterday, I drank two cups of coffee for breakfast and didn't eat anything else until dinner. Was I hungry? Of course. Why did I do it? Because I could. For months, I couldn't go more than a few hours without eating or I'd get sick... but now, I can go hours (heck, days) without eating and feel just fine. Plus, I haven't thrown up in two weeks (a record amount of time). It feels great.

Joey tells you about his baby sister Kate

Big brother Joey is so proud of his baby sister Kate!

Meet baby Kate

Kate Ellen
Born Monday, Sept. 24th at 1:13 pm
6 lbs. 10 oz. 18 3/4 inches tall

Put me out of my misery.... please!

I know that the pregnancy books say that pregnancy only lasts forty weeks but I swear it's much longer than that. Honestly, I can't remember what it feels like to not be pregnant. I know there was a time that I woke up in the morning and didn't have to rush to the bathroom and throw up. Yep, there was a time that I could bend over and pick up my son without getting out of breath. There was even a time that I had more than two pairs of pants that fit. But, that's a distant (and blurry) memory. Right now, I think I've been pregnant forever. Literally forever.

Last week, my hyperemesis took a turn for the worst. Instead of throwing up 4-5 times per day, I started throwing up everything I ate, drank or thought about eating. By Friday morning, I was pretty dehydrated. My doctor had me check my ketones (and fortunately, I have a handy ketone kit left over from my home care days) and they were elevated so they asked me to come into the hospital for an IV. Well, after some blood tests, they found that my potassium levels were dangerously low (which can result in heart failure) and so they admitted me into the hospital. I had to stay overnight and get poked and prodded and loaded up with nine IV bags full of potassium rich fluid.

Honestly, I thought they were just going to deliver my baby. The nurses and doctors stood there trying to figure out which drugs to give me to keep me from throwing up and how to get me hydrated enough to go home. I wanted to scream at them that the perfect solution was to JUST TAKE THE BABY but they didn't listen. Instead, they cited some regulation that my hospital doesn't induce labor for babies less than 39 weeks gestation unless it's a medically critical situation. I was 38 weeks 5 days. Two days short. Needless to say, I'm bitter.

So, here I am, 39 weeks and 2 days pregnant and STILL pregnant. Sure, I have a scheduled c-section on Monday but that's six whole days away and I'm not sure if I can make it. Six more days of throwing up. Six more days of losing my breath everytime I walk up the stairs. Six more days of being unable to chase my son around the living room. Six more days. Feels like a lifetime.

Nesting

Sept. 4, 2007

My mom says I'm nesting. I don't know about that. I mean, my baseboards are still covered in dust and my laundry room hasn't been cleaned in weeks (OK, months). Yep, my closet is still piled high with old clothes and my desk drawers, well, we won't talk about those. But, I have been working hard to get my nursery and Joey's big boy room done.

I started Joey's big boy room weeks ago. My excuse was that he had to get used to it before the baby came, but in reality, I think I just wanted an excuse to redecorate. I was tired of my cluttered, mis-matched guest room. Now, Joey has a fun "big boy bed" and dresser, a new bookshelf and fun sporty walls.

In the daytime, he loves his room and his big boy bed. He reads books to his "Anmals" and cuddles with his UT Bevo toy Cooper. Nighttime is a different story... the transition hasn't gone as well as I had hoped. While he has slept through the night in his big boy bed a few times, he has also spent plenty of nights in his pack & play because staying in bed is much easier said than done. Every night when he's getting ready for bed he says "Bi bo be" (translation: big boy bed) and then says "Me, stay stay stay!". Well, he usually forgets about the staying part about 5 minutes later and ends up in the pack & play for the night. Oh well. He'll get there, right?

Last week, I spent the week getting this little girl's nursery ready. I wanted it to be bright and girly. It's a spring garden with lots of flowers and leaves and is filled with all things pink and pretty. I can't wait until there's a little girl to put in it. Just two and a half more weeks. Seems like a lifetime...

Babies, puppies & hot summer days

Talk about a slacker. I haven't written in my blog for over two months. I could make up a glamorous excuse as to why. Maybe I spent the last six weeks riding my bike through the Andes and living off the land (don't laugh... it could happen) or perhaps I went on a road trip culminating in a romantic stay at a bed-and-breakfast in the Napa Valley (that's more like it). But the truth? I've spent the last two months wallowing in the couch in pregnancy-induced pity wondering when this hot, sticky summer is going to end.

I hate being pregnant. H.a.t.e. it. Don't get me wrong, I want this baby more than anything, but at this point, the idea of this baby is still a bit abstract and the hours spent hunching over the toilet are fresh in my mind. I'm tired of being sick. Tired of being tired. Tired of being fat. Tired of everything. And, I have 6 weeks and 4 days to go (I'm having a scheduled c-section on Sept. 24th) and that seems like a lifetime. An absolute lifetime.

With that said, after weeks upon weeks of hot, boring drudgery of pregnant summer, we've had quite the exciting week this week. First, my dog Zoe went into labor and whelped 9 healthy puppies. Not the best timing in the world considering the pups will be seven weeks old when I have my baby, but we have puppies nonetheless. Joey loves them. I'm dreading the day that they are big enough to get out of the whelping box. My husband is looking forward to the day that they go to their forever homes and we get a nice little payday. I'm already dreaming of some new non-pregnancy clothes. Ann Taylor Loft, here I come (talk about wishful thinking... as if I'll fit into non-pregnancy clotehs anytime soon).

Second, my first nephew Jacob was born on Tuesday morning. He is just precious (check out his picture above). Unfortunately, he's caught a bit of an infection and is currently spending a few days in the NICU. The doctors think he'll be fine, but that doesn't make me worry less. Nonetheless, I'm in love with my new little baby and I'm getting my baby fix from holding him. I'm still not impressed that I have more than six weeks to go... but having a stretchy, sleepy baby in my arms definitely eases the pain.

I promise it won't be this long again. Well, at least for awhile... once this baby is born, who knows what I'll find to occupy my time.

finding out

April 30, 2007

I have my twenty-week ultrasound where I can find out whether this baby is a girl or a boy on Thursday. I'm feeling a bit conflicted about whether or not I should find out. I really, really want to know. I'm not the patient type. I want to get the nursery ready. I want to pick out a name. I want to go shopping. Still, part of me thinks that maybe it would be best if I didn't find out. You see, I'm afraid that my disappointment about the gender might plague the rest of this pregnancy. A very unkosher thing to say, but I'm saying it nonetheless.



I want to say that I will be happy with whatever sex as long as the baby is healthy. That's what all of the PC moms are saying. That's the "right" thing to say. But, the truth is, I won't be happy with whatever sex. At least at first. I confess. I want a girl and I want a girl bad.




I'm not saying that I won't love a little boy because I know I will, but I also know that it'll take some time getting used to. I've always wanted a little girl. A girl to play dress-up and tea party with, to go shopping with and to teach about girly things like make-up and Kate Spade bags. I also don't want to get pregnant again (I may change my mind, but for now, this is it). With that said, I'm really hoping and praying for a girl this time.


So, what do you all think? Should I find out?