Dear no-we-STILL-don't-have-a-name-for-you-yet-baby,

Yesterday, the fabulous L-Ma hosted a shower de bebehs just for you.  I was really worried because, seriously, about half of the peeps invited bailed at the last minute for one reason or another (lots of sickness happening in the OK and a lot of people invited don't actually live anywhere near here, so I knew they wouldn't be coming) and I thought you, fine me, might be self conscious about low turnout (e.g. what did I do to you, people?  I'm sorry!).  However, the room was full, the punch was awesome, the cupcakes were delicious, the snacks were delectable, the decorations tasteful, we played only one non-annoying game (which I won, but was disqualified since I got the prize of the biggest.pile.of.gifts.ever) and I behaved myself in spite of being really sick (the OK sicknessfluwhatever is about to completely take me down).  I even enlisted the help of my mom's friend's three year old to help unwrap the gifts and I didn't even scare her or offend her!  Maybe I can be around little kids.  Probably not.  Anyway, it was actually great and everyone's generosity was truly surprising and touching.  Even if K and I mess up with this kid, I know he's got a pretty strong and wide group of people genuinely interested in his new little life.  Kind of nice.

So, I finally make it home, am somewhat grouchy due to sickness and sugar overload, unload the bounty, settle into my recliner position in an attempt to breathe through my stuffed up nose and wait.  Waiting for what, I'm not sure.  But Lacey says I have dinner plans, she's just not sure when.  Obviously, someone's coming.  But who?  And when?  And I don't feel good and I'm cranky and irritable and try to pry it out of Lacey, but she won't budge.  Finally, she comes over and we head out to dinner, mystery guest still not here.  I'm trying to think of who we'd go to the trouble to tolerate and I honestly can't think of anyone that could/would make the trip from afar, so I'm totally stumped.  I'm shoveling chips and queso into my face at the restaurant when in walks C-tina!  All the way from Portland, OR!  Lacey, Christina and I have been a little triumvirate since we were probably eight (although, there have certainly been stretches of radio silence as we've moved all over the country and other countries over the last 10 years, but we can always manage to pick back up) and I can think of no other people I'd rather share yesterday (or any of this stuff, really) with.  My crankiness melted away in good times.

But what I really want to say is, have you all seen Portlandia?  We came back to our place and fired it up (thanks Amazon on demand!) after dinner.  I've still (I know) never been to Portland, but I think there's a lot of Northampton happening in Portland or the reverse or whatever.  Also, L-Ma lived in San Fran for years, so I think we all have a pretty good appreciated (sorta, more C-tina) of the wonderful craziness.

I wish I had something super fancy to do/place to go

because I would find a way to buy and wear* this:

*Post bambino, of course. I don't think Halston does maternity.

Dear baby, it's your week 32 update.

Hot damn!  Time flies (when you don't know you're knocked up for a lot of it).  In any event, you're the size of a random fruit or vegetable this week.  Shocking!  Allegedly, you weigh about 3.5 pounds.  At the rate I'm/we're growing, I'd believe it.  I'm about to enter the stage of gaining a poundish a weekish (so far, mostly in my second chin) and I'm terrified, so hang on for your growth spurt, little dude.  You're about to run out of room to continue the acrobatics you're so fond of.  ALL THE TIME.  Except for sometimes, then I freak out completely, convinced something is wrong, but then you flip around and all is well.  Right so, you're still nameless and might remain this way until you're old enough to choose your own, at the rate we're moving on this decision.  It will be weird when you're President Batman Oberst, but the country'll get used to it.  In the meantime, I think I've found what I want to take you home in.  Not that it will fit, or that you'll wear it for more than 30 seconds without barfing or pooing all over it, but a mama can dream, right?

via ittikid

Going to birthing class, even though I hate it, just for you tonight, dude.  See you soon!

Ice Day!

In the OK, we don't have snow days often, but we do have ice days!  And today is such a day.  They always start early, with employees and school children clicking between local news channels to see which will report their closing first.  If you're my mom (middle school principal), this starts at roughly 3.30am.  If you're me, you wait until your mom calls you at 5.45am to report that she's off the hook for the day, too bad about your school, but she will call your boss to tell her you're not coming in because Mom simply forbids it (I drive about 25 miles each way to work), even though I'm almost 30 and sperminated.  In any event, after a flurry of whiny text messages with coworkers, success!  School is closed!  Until noon.  Which is better than nothing, especially since the roads are projected to be totally fine until then.  The only hiccup is that I have a root canal scheduled for 1pm today.  Which is worse?  Root canal or driving the treacherous roads for a half day of work only to turn around and get stuck in traffic for hours on the way home?  Oh, life, with your choices and whatnot.

Woot! (except the problem is I have like 10 million kajillion things to do and would actually like to be there, but don't want to ruin my one and only car.)

In a related story, Zeb hasn't seen snow or ice since he was a baby dog and it was hilarious to watch him get reacquainted this morning.  I wish there was more accumulation so he could bound around in it.  He spent a good five minutes just licking at what little there was, then skidding across the patio.  Adorbs.

Week 31 Update

Sick.  It's like I'm making up for all of the first trimester morning sickness I skipped out on in one weekend.  Blech.  The only way I feel ok is to be still.  Very still.  Which is working out today, since my office flooded over the weekend.  So, between bouts of extreme nausea, I'm trying to work from home since I literally have no office (apparently mine flooded the most - burst chiller pipe?), no computer (they're using mine to support the main university switchboard, which runs out of our office - yay HR!), and no files (they've been wheeled away somewhere to dry out).  Here's hoping tomorrow's better for everyone.  Also, here's hoping that I can get myself to birth preparation class tonight, even though it seems kinda lame.  K and I laughed through the breathing techniques because we're super mature (in spite of being probably the oldest couple there).

Fruit/veg update: bambino is now the size of four navel oranges, whatever that means.  All I know is that he's definitely growing, and so am I.  Like a second chin.   Boo.

I've got your Golden Globes right here...

First, I didn't watch, so I can't weigh in on the whole Ricky Gervais was a tool thing, but, dudes, the people he ragged on are also tools, so, whatever.  Secondly, K and I went to see Black Swan, which is a GG related activity, I think.  While I loved it, K loathed it.  Too much ballet and classical music for his taste, he said.  Even the lady on lady action couldn't keep his attention.  It did mine, though.  Dang!  Mila Kunis is waaaaay underrated and super hot.  You lose Kevin McCallister.  However, when we got home, I wasn't too disturbed by disfigured swans to hightail it over to the bajillion websites covering the GG dress parade.  And man, it was a bad one.  Everyone looked like shit, in my opinion, except for one special lady.  The Swinton.  Ever since I stumbled upon Orlando back in middle school I have been involved in a bizarre, androgynous love affair with both Virginia Woolf and Tilda Swinton.  Happily, Tilda has been cranking out stellar performances ever since and that requires her to make red carpet appearances every so often (Virginia, not so much).  Behold, The Swinton as best described by the Fug Girls (my favorite online anything):

Right on T.Swint.

On not shopping, continued.

I'm a vain person.  There.  I said it.  I've always had body issues (duh, I'm a chick), but was just getting comfortable with myself and rebuilding my wardrobe after a realignment (read 20 lbs dropped) when I found out I was knocked up.  There went all that work!  Not really.  It's taken a full seven months for the baby bump to make its serious debut (like, completely unavoidable now) and I've decided to dress it as cheaply as possible (not decided, I have to, all extra funds should really be diverted to more important things, like shoes, baby shoes!).  I've hit up serious sale items at Old Navy and Target, mostly, with a few peppered in from GAP and Motherhood Maternity (but that stuff's mostly crap - stay away - too much $$ for too little quality) and have created a complete enough prego wardrobe.  Especially since I've only got about 70 something days to go.  Right, so even though I've satisfied my urge to shop by buying necessary maternity clothes, I can't get emotionally attached to any of the items unless I wanna go all Dugger.  So, I continue to fantasy shop, much like when I check myself out in the full length mirror, I fantasize that I look good instead of wearing illfitting, cheap clothes.  Blech.  What I'm trying to say, and it's difficult to focus since little man is practicing his ninja moves and, dang, he's strong, is that I want this dress:

It's calling to me, but alas, it won't fit for a long, long time, I'm sure.  Also, it might as well be a million dollars. 

Dear baby,

You know what's nice?  When I'm feeling all anxious or weepy or whatever it is that I feel these days and my face is most certainly all screwed up in some look of consternation, you'll jab me really hard or perform some other internal gymnastics or get the hiccups and I cannot help but stop in my tracks and smile.  Thanks!

Week 30 Update

OHMYGOD.  Week 30?  For reals?  Things have been getting checked off the list, though.  Pediatrician selected (mine from when I was a kid).  Birth preparation classes start on Tuesday night.  We picked up an ok enough changing table/dresser from Craigslist.  The registry is complete (you can search on thebump.com for me and send me anonymous gifts - that's totally cool).  Childcare arrangements are in the works.  From now through the end of month eight, I've got to go to the doc every two weeks.  Why?  I dunno.  But on Friday, I had to go in for my glucose screening.  Here's hoping I don't have gestational diabetes, which surely I do considering the amount of sugar I've consumed.  I'm super into fruit right now.  Grapes, melons, apples, strawberries, blueberries.  More!  I want more!  Now!  But it's snowing and I'm too lazy.  Right, so here's a fictional depiction of me and spawn when we learn we're diabetes free next week:

 

via 

In the meantime, I'm still feeling pretty good and am still not popping out like I'd thought I'd be by now, but lazier than usual, which is really freaking lazy.  K and I have managed nothing but extreme couch sitting and Netflix viewing this weekend.  We watched all of Californication (boobs much?) season one and all of Dexter season one.  I suppose we should be out busting a move, partying it up, livin' la vida loca pre-bambino, but we're just so tired from being lazy.

I have the energy of a roofied three toed sloth.

I don't like it, but I can't fight it.

Aw

Look at Lacey.  She made a little bloggy blog for us and is organizing a shower!  She's only a medical student/rockstar, so I know she has tons of free time.  I don't know how she does it.  I come home from work and all I manage to do is put on some sweat pants while she whips up a blog and puts together a party.

It's A Bundle of Boy!

Week 29 Update

It's about that time.  The time to compare a (teeny, tiny) human with a vegetable.  Butternut squash to be exact.



Not so much to report aside from the fact that I think I had my first hormonal freak out over New Years, like uncontrollable sobbing accompanied by death stares and the silent treatment.  Marry me!  However, I've sincee returned to my senses (sort of/for now) and things seem to be cooking along just fine.  I went in last week for an appointment and have only gained one pound since my last.  I'm not sure how that's possible since my boobs alone surely weigh 10 million pounds.  Also, that brings my total weight gain to a whopping seven pounds since this all started.  Surely, something's going to give and I will balloon.  But, until then, I'll enjoy looking vaguely pregnant and feeling pretty good most of the time.  Being the little dude's landlord has been a piece of cake so far.  So far...