belle in bloom

My latest obsessions, borne out of sleep deprivation

At 33 weeks and 6 days, I have fully entered what I hope is the last stage of pregnancy: the "Holy-shit-each-day-is-a-struggle-get-this-baby-out-of-me-I-will-pay-you" stage.

(I hate this stage.)

Mostly, I'm hoping that the "each day is a struggle" part doesn't become a 24-hour day thing. Last night, I didn't get ANY sleep before 6am, and even after that point, it was in 15-minute increments. I––the person who is perpetually cold, the person who in the middle of a blazing Kansas summer brought jackets to the grocery store and the movie theatre with her because the A/C was cranked too high everywhere I went––I have been suddenly, insufferably hot to the point where I actually tried to sleep WITHOUT ANY COVERS last night. You have no idea how earth-shattering this is.

(Granted, this is more due to an unfortunate encounter in second grade with a late-night episode of the terrible 80's version of "The Twilight Zone"––that sleepover effed me up for life in thirty minutes thanks to the "Shadowman"...google it. In sum, I can't sleep without covers because then the Shadowman can stab me, whereas in second-grade-Anabelle logic, even the flimsiest covers protect me from sharp knives and the paranormal. It doesn't make sense. And second-graders should not watch "The Twilight Zone," even the awesome original series. Anyway....)

Yeah, so last night I was so miserably hot that I tried sleeping on top of the sheets, and even that didn't work. Did I mention that I also had a fan set on "high" pointed right at me AND a window open with a fan to circulate the 50-something degree nighttime air into our bedroom? Yet I still felt like an overfed sow slow-roasting over an open spit of 300-thread-count percale.

In my sleepless delirium, I began thinking, which never turns out well when it occurs during hours that shouldn't exist in polite company, because I start thinking things that shouldn't be discussed in polite company. Things such as:

My boobs are no longer recognizable to me. They hang down like they're doing an impression of an especially depressed Droopy Dog. I look like those women in Africa who are liberated from underwire bras and shirts in general, the women pictured in the old copies of National Geographic I picked up at a church yard sale. Way back then, I could not comprehend how my late-blooming flat chest could EVER transform into THAT. Then (sometime in college––I told you I was a late bloomer) I actually developed a decent rack and took it for granted. Sigh. To quote Mozart's Requiem, "Dies irae, dies illa" (day of suffering, day of wrath) has arrived. And breastfeeding hasn't even started yet. Fun fun. :-/

I'm going to have to take care of a penis. Yeah. So. About that. Um, what do I do? I don't care about menstrual periods or childbirth or whatever––being a girl and having everything neatly tucked away is so preferable to having Things That Hang Outside Of Your Body. I mean, doesn't that stuff get in the way? I would think so, but then again, I don't have the equipment. Which, I reiterate, I'm very grateful for. Vaginas are the ultimate self-cleaning oven––if you just leave it alone, it will leave you alone. Which brings me to the circumcision controversy, which is alive and well in our household: I'm against it, my hubby is generally for it. Personally, I cannot come to terms with somebody strapping My Baby down and then cutting off a significant chunk of a very sensitive area just because it's "traditional." Eff tradition. We're not Jewish, the supposed health and hygiene benefits are sketchy to minimal, and the rate of circumcisions has fallen to something like a third of all American baby boys these days. From what I've read, caring for a penis as God/nature intended is much like caring for a vagina––leave it alone and it will be fine. Which is fine with me. It weirds me out regardless. (I'm so glad I've got girl parts.)

I can't get comfortable. I am sick of lying on my side––either side––and obviously, I can't roll over and snuggle into my pillow nest belly-down. Within the past week, my last refuge has turned on me: I can no longer lie on my back without getting dizzy. Yeah, I know, I was suppposed to give that up back around 20 weeks, but it was so comfortable for so long.... And now I've got a big baby butt dirty-dancing up against my left ribcage, rendering it so sore that I can't get comfortable even if I otherwise could get comfortable. Oh, the injustice.

And finally...

Babies need stuff. This is perhaps my most-obsessed-over realization, because I keep thinking I'm forgetting Key Things That Every Baby Must Have Or Else Their Mothers Face Being Investigated By Child Protective Services. At the same time, I'm obsessed with NOT getting caught up in Baby Stuff Land because it's a frickin' racket, just like the wedding racket––companies realize that you're in a very vulnerable, emotional state, so being the heartless bastards they are, they fully take advantage of your panic and ignorance by insisting that YOU NEED THIS AND THAT AND THOSE or else you are DOOMED. (Speaking of that...does anyone else find it odd that a major baby store chain is called BuyBuyBaby? Could they BE any more obvious? But I can't hate on them too much...they have some really cute clothes.) I have been fairly successful at fending off the totally unnecessary (wipe warmers, I'm looking at you) but I'm not totally confident that I'm maximizing my resistance to silly products marketed for suckers.

We already have:

• three places for baby to sleep: his crib, a playard bassinet (which will remain downstairs), and a co-sleeper bassinet (for upstairs, next to his mommy)
• a dresser
• a giant pile of clothes (that just got washed today––woot woot for even the smallest bit of productivity)
• a few packs of newborn and size 1 disposable diapers, baby wipes, and Butt Paste
• a baby bouncer seat thingie
• an exersaucer
• a tummy-time mat
• an infant car seat
• a stroller for infant car seats
• a Boppy pillow
• baby bedding (crib sheets, playard sheets, co-sleeper sheets)
• knit hats
• a few books and toys (let's face it, infants don't need much entertainment)

Of the things I have deemed necessary, we still do not have:

• side-snap undershirts (aren't these important when baby still has an umbilical stump?)
• a changing table
• a changing pad
• changing pad covers
• a baby monitor
• a sun hat
• wearable blankets/sleep sacks
• enough baby socks
• receiving blankets
• baby towels and washcloths
• baby health/hygiene items (Tylenol, nail scissors, hair brush, thermometer)
• a diaper pail
• cloth diapers (which we plan to use once baby is big enough for the all-in-ones)
• burp cloths
• an infant bathtub
• crib mattress protector sheets
• stuff baby will need later on (a regular stroller, a regular car seat, a high chair, bigger clothes)

I swear this isn't a solicitation for more stuff. This is more of a sanity check for me. Do I really need the stuff that I haven't gotten yet? Do I need other stuff that's not on the list? HELP ME. I don't know what I'm doing and it's terribly disconcerting.

Too many choices

Now that I'm almost 33 weeks, it's getting to be crunch time. If the weekly countdown wasn't warning me yet, everything else is. For instance, I can now feel definite body parts moving in my belly. A foot feels like a foot-shaped foot. A butt feels like a butt-shaped butt. Also, my hips feel like they are tied together (loosely) with Silly String. I can no longer stay awake for a whole afternoon. I can no longer put on socks without nearly having a heart attack. This baby is real, and he's coming.

Suddenly, my mind is obsessed––OBSESSED!––with hoarding baby supplies. This must be how squirrels feel in the fall when all they do is bury acorns. I am not quite panicking yet, but I'm constantly thinking about what we need to buy next, how much we can afford to spend on baby stuff this week, what can we get that we can use for future kiddos, etc. It's endless.

Consequently, I find myself looking at baby items all the time. (Usually online, since I'm under modified house arrest and all...sigh.) What should we get now? How many onesies does a newborn need? Do we need a changing table? Why won't anyone on Craigslist just EMAIL ME BACK FOR GOD'S SAKE, even if it's just to tell me to stop bugging them about the damn co-sleeper they ALLEGEDLY had for sale?

As a first-time mom with way too much time on her hands and way too much thinking going on in her head, I'm flat-out overwhelmed by the vast Baby Things universe. My God, there's stuff I never even dreamed of: baby wipe warmers, disposable changing pads, round bassinets, night vision LCD baby monitors...it's insane. I realize a lot of this stuff is totally unnecessary. People have had babies for millenia and somehow there are still people around to keep having babies. My quandary is that I have no idea what is really needed versus what is a waste of money.

Furthermore, even among the stuff I have deemed essential, there are way too many choices. Diapers (disposable and cloth), baby toiletries, crib sheets, laundry detergent...which ones do I pick? I must look like a quintessential first-time mom in the baby aisles at stores––I just stand there with my mouth agape. The consumer reviews on Amazon.com help to narrow my picks for the bigger stuff (the crib and playard, for example) but they aren't much help when I'm holding a bottle of Johnson's Baby Shampoo in one hand and a bottle of Aveeno baby shampoo in the other, while looking at Burt's Bees baby products on the shelf.

Friends and family have graciously offered me some hand-me-downs, which I gladly accept. Sure, they are much-appreciated because that's less stuff for us to buy, but ultimately, I think the biggest perk is that the decision has already been made for me. We get a slightly used infant car seat, that's the one we're using, period. No more stressing about brands and models. Part of me is exhausted by all the decision-making I've already had to do about how we plan to parent in the first year (natural birthing, exclusive breastfeeding, attachment parenting, co-sleeping, babywearing, and I'm sure I'm forgeting other hippie parent fads).

Is it lazy or greedy for me to just want the baby gear to appear on our doorstep? Hell, at this point I'd pay someone to make those decisions for me. (Don't get too excited...the pay wouldn't be that great, I'm sure.)

New clothes makes girl happy (most obvious headline ever?)

I'm back!

Today was a very exciting day, at least in Modified Bed Rest World. (Modified Bed Rest World is not, generally speaking, the most exciting of worlds, so please keep that in mind.) Today I got FOUR packages in the mail! And they were all CLOTHES! Oh wait, I forgot another package...but that was just jumper cables and cat pill pocket treats, so it doesn't count as being exciting.

Anyway, it was like my birthday came a week early--except I bought everything. Still. For someone who has been confined to what feels like house arrest for over a week, it was A Big Deal. I had ordered some comfy spring maternity clothes from Old Navy and Gap--those were two packages. I ordered maternity undies from Motherhood Maternity--another package. And finally, a slightly used, still adorable spring maternity dress I got from eBay. SCORE!

The Old Navy and Gap packages were the best. I finally--FINALLY--have tee shirts that fit! And tank tops, too! And the cutest pajama pants I've ever seen, and a hoodie jacket that zips over my belly, and a cute but comfy jersey dress, and three nursing tops that don't look frumpy or appear as if my boobs are about to try to feed the world. And just in time for bed rest...maternity exercise clothes! Oh well, they'll be great for couch surfing. Two compression tanks and a pair of yoga pants = bliss. Hmmm, maybe I can at least attempt some pregnancy yoga. Certainly I can find some poses that are good for heading off preterm labor!

And I swear I've never been so excited about getting underwear. But--gasp--they fit! Around this belly! Foldover briefs, under-belly bikinis, pregnancy hipsters...all of them are a zillion times cuter than the large regular undies I've been wearing. Little floral prints and polka dots and bright colors: adorable, even with my giant ass shoved into them. So worth it. Now I won't be embarrassed if I'm at the hospital and someone happens to see my undies sticking out of my clothes pile.

The new clothes (which, by the way, I hope and pray are my last maternity clothing purchases, but now that I've said that, I've probably just jinxed myself to growing out of everything within a month) gave me such a ridiculous mood boost today. I guess it doesn't take much at all to cheer up my day, especially considering I voluntarily watched a documentary about Jack the Ripper yesterday and another one about cannibalism today.

(Daytime TV can be rough stuff, trust me.)

Definitely blooming!

Wow, it's been a looooong time since I last blogged. If you're reading this, you probably already know this, but . . .

There's a baby on the way!

(Specifically, it's a baby boy named Alexander William, due on June 4, 2012!)

I certainly feel like I'm blooming now--and just in case I forget, my giant belly quickly reminds me. I'm currently 30.5 weeks pregnant. Alex keeps threatening to make his debut a little early, so I'm on modified bed rest (no cleaning, no laundry, no running errands, no elaborate meals, no gardening, no traveling). It's been almost a week of restrictions, and already I'm going out of my mind, so expect to see me writing quite a bit. I'm aching for things to do to pass the time!

Baby Alex is doing just fine in his little world, weighing it at approximately almost four pounds. He is in the middle of a major uterine renovation of some sort. At least, that's what I assume he's doing since he Won't. Stop. Moving. I swear I feel little hammers and forklifts in there. Right now it appears he's trying to devise a way to demo my right ribcage. Good luck with that, little fella. Actually, I take that back. No luck to you at all. I need that ribcage.

I'm doing fine as well. Despite my proclivity for medical drama, I swear I feel pretty good. I've actually had a generally smooth pregnancy in a lot of ways--no gestational diabetes, no preeclampsia, no bleeding, no morning sickness, nothing major at all. Turns out the issue lies with my uterus, whom Mark named Eunice. Eunice the "Irritable Uterus," that is. (Yes, "irritable uterus" is an actual medical term, and I've got it.) Eunice likes to be a drama queen and start causing a ruckus when things get too boring. Thnakfully, she's been all bark and no bite so far, but my doctors and midwives aren't taking any chances. Hence the modified bed rest. Just as the weather is getting GORGEOUS. Sigh.

So yeah, this modified bed rest thing is not fun. I've already done the daytime TV marathons (note: "Supernanny" is not a good thing to watch when pregnant) and the idle Internet time-sucks, I've played Wii for hours, I've read, I've eaten (and eaten, and eaten), I've slept, I've written...and I'm already sick of this. And there's "only" ten weeks to go! (Okay, technically I will PROBABLY get off of bed rest around week 34-35....) I have no idea how women survive strict bed rest. In the meantime, expect to hear more from me and the little guy--blogging should help us both stay sane-ish! :-)

twitterpated

I have fallen in love with the animals I work with. I'm completely twitterpated. How could I not be? They are such funny, loveable, huggable cuddlebabies. I love their personalities.

I want to bring Katie the Pekin Duck to live with me forever. She loves being petted, sitting in laps, and being hand-fed. What's not to love?

I also want to bring home Rosie the Donkey, the kindest creature that God has ever placed on this planet. I love her.

And now I've fallen in love with the newest additions: two ridiculously cute baby Holland Lop bunnies. Floppy eared bunnies are cute by definition alone, but these girls get bonus points for having silly cowlicks and the softest fur I've ever felt. I think I might take them home after camp is over. (please don't tell Mark yet....)

Taking a sick day (in other news, I have a job)

I've been so bad about keeping this blog. Ugh. Sorry. I'll try to do better.

The past few weeks have been crazy-busy because I HAVE A JOB! (Wooo!) But yeah, it's been pretty crazy-busy. On the plus side, this job is perfect for me. In fact, it's a little too perfect. (My dad would probably place this in his ongoing collection of "evidence" that the Matrix really does exist. I wish I were kidding.) Alas, today I am sick––my doc has forbidden me to be around kids until my throat culture is definitely negative for strep, which could take a few days. :-(

So about the job: I'm working at a summer day camp as the head of their 'farm' program. I get to make up the entire curriculum and do pretty much whatever I want to do, since the program is brand-new. The camp is insanely expensive––about $8,000 per kid for seven weeks, Monday through Friday, 9-ish to 4:15-ish. That's just nuts. But it works out well for me, not because I have an insanely high salary (I most certainly do not), but because whatever supplies or equipment or whatever that I need, I can just buy it. I even asked if I had a budget for the program, and the answer was essentially no. If only schools could work like this....  But I digress. Anyway, so far the job has been pretty awesome––I get to hang out with farm animals, I get to teach, I get to be outside, and I get paid for it. :-)

Honestly, I really wish I could be at camp right now. That's how much fun I'm having––I actually wish I could be at work! While I'm home, though, I'm trying to get some work done. The camp wants to add rabbits, chickens, and possibly a couple of barn cats to their menagerie (which currently consists of four ponies, a donkey, two ducks, a peacock, two peahens, six goats, two alpacas, a lamb, and a Jersey calf), so I've been reading books about rabbits and chickens and trying to figure out the logistics of adding them to the mix (how to construct shelter, where to put shelter, what they need to eat, how many to get, which breed(s) to get, etc.). Doing all this research makes me REALLY want my own farm.

Someday, someday....

Words we don't use?

This article fascinated me. In my personal opinion, the headline should more appropriately read "Words we [the English language police] don't [want anyone to] say [or use]."

Needless to say, I will use take this opportunity to opine about a plethora of the submissions. (And just for fun, any words/phrases from the list that I purposefully use will be in red.)

First of all, this entry particularly amused me: "Verbing nouns, in general. As Calvin once said to Hobbes, 'It weirds the language.'"

Two things:

• 1) The submitter 'verbed a noun' by using a noun (verb) as a verb; and
• 2) The submitter uses an example of an adjective (weird), not a noun, being used as a verb.

I'd bet that the submitter realizes the irony of his/her submission, but if not, that would be even funnier.

You know it's fun when it's a BUIA post

"WTF is BUIA?" you may be asking yourself. But yourself is not a good person to ask because she doesn't know. (Honestly––if I can be blunt––when you ask yourself a question, yourself almost never knows the answer, because if she knew the answer, then you'd know it in the first place. So really, there's nothing to be gained by asking yourself a question, especially if the question is rhetorical. Just my two cents.)

Don't worry if you don't know what it means.

I have a declaration to make: (is the teleprompter ready?) *clears throat indelicately*

"I'm the only person who knows what BUIA is because I made it up just now. But I'll tell you soon. Actually, now. Look below this line. "

Blogging    Under    (the)    Influence    (of)     Ambien

(It's starting to settle in so I need to make this fast)

All I have is a minor observation to share.

There is something majorly funky going on with my right side. TMJ flare-up in right jaw, carpal tunnel flare-up in right wrist, and as I noticed tonight, my right shoulder is considerably lower than my left shoulder when I'm standing up 'straight'. I feel like I should go audition for a V-8 commercial. Oh wait, they don't do those "hadn't had a V-8" ads anymore.

Anyway....

The Ambien power is strong in this one . . . we haven't much time, children . . . . hurry hurry . . . .

So I've reached a point where I know I need to go seek out some help––namely, a masseuse and a chiropractor. Possibly an acupuncturist, too. And I need to do it ASAP. So Mark tells me to just google some places around us....easy, right?

It turns out that typing "putnam county ny massage" into Google turns up some, uh, questionable businesses. (You know.) (Don't make me literally spell it out for you.)

So the moral of the story is: don't do what I did.

When you need a massage, type in "massage therapist" or "therapeutic massage" or "licensed massage therapist". Not just "massage." Tying only "massage" in there can get you an onslaught of a completely different kind of massage, especially if you happen to be close to a big city...say, New York City. Yeah.

Ambien is telling me it is time to go to bed now. I must obey.

Goodnight, all.

Goodnight moon

and the red ballon,

and the little toy house and the _(ADJECTIVE)  mouse

and goodnight chairs and going up stairs

and the cow jumping over the moon

with a grandmother whispering "hush, hush."

Goodnight to me, goodnight to you,

goodnight to the animals inside the zoo!

                                                                        (mmrrrreeeooow)

(Goodnight to you too, Pepperpotamus Boo!)

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My new career path

I've decided that I want to be a pioneer woman when I grow up. I guess nowadays "homesteader" is the proper term. Whatever. That's what I want to be.

Ever since I was in kindergarten, my dream has been to someday have my own little farm with lots of animals. That's still my plan. I already have my menagerie all planned out: chickens, ducks, geese, rabbits, a pair of miniature donkeys, a few horses, maybe a few miniature horses, a Jersey cow, some goats, a llama and/or an alpaca, one or two honeybee hives, a golden retriever, and a few barn cats (spayed/neutered, of course). And look how reasonable I am––I'm willing to throw in a St. Bernard for Mark. Am I not merciful?

C'mon . . . with these kinds of critters running around, who wouldn't want to come visit me?

(adorable baby animal pics after the jump)

Thoughts on a lovely spring afternoon

My house sits at the back of an old estate. Woods border three sides of the house, and the front yard is a meadow. In the summer, my yard feels like a private nature sanctuary. The first autumn we lived here, I was astonished to discover, once all the leaves had fallen, that there are other houses nearby; they were completely hidden from sight when the woods were thick and green.

I'm sitting outside on my porch swing, taking a bit of a breather from gardening. I've got lots of yard work on today's to-do list, but it's lunchtime, after all, and a girl's gotta eat. Yet I can't focus on my sandwich. It's too nice of a day to waste it inside, but outside, I find nothing but delightful distractions from such a mundane chore like eating.