Wednesday, December 30, 2009

43 days? for real?

Disclaimer: if you're growing tired of my every-tenth-post or so "OMG I'M HAVING A BABY" spaz outs, just skip this one and come back when I have it all under control. Like, say, the year 2013ish.

Bumblebee is coming in 2010. 2010 is coming in just over 24 hours. I have 43 days until my c-section. I start seeing my doctor once a week starting in 2 weeks. I have to see him weekly because that's what they DO when you're about to have a BABY. (But I'll keep mum on exactly what it is they DO every week, because that would be very TMI and scar some of you for life. I'll just say this- when heading down the baby having path and choosing an OB, take a good look at his/her hands. The smaller = the better.) Where was I? WEEKLY APPOINTMENTS. Home stretch. BABY. COMING. SOON. Safe to say, dear Interwebs, the panic button has been pressed and I could really use a drink. Or a cookie or twelve. And as per usual, some heavy duty antacid meds.

A few things precipitated today's state of near-hysteria.

#1: Hobby Lobby. Yes, the fluorescent lit kingdom of crafts strikes again. I walked in, looked to my right, and was stopped in my tracks by a huge wall of pink and red glittery heart shaped clutter. VALENTINE'S things. You know what happens just before Valentine's Day, people? C-SECTION AND A BABY HAPPENS.

#2: A mom at Target with two babies. One looked to be about two, the other about six months, and the mom ... well, she looked like she needed a bath really, really badly. And strong meds. The baby in the Bjorn was kicking and screaming, the bigger baby in the cart (in footie pajamas and rocking some serious bed head) was screaming AND shoving her finger up her nose. I offered an encouraging smile to the mom, and she looked from my face to my belly to my sweet Mister chomping Goldfish in the cart ... then back at my face with what I can only describe as fearful pity in her eyes. Those eyes were trying to tell me something. Like "YOU'RE TOTALLY UNAWARE OF WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO GET YOURSELF INTO! RUN! HIDE! TAKE THE GOLDFISH WITH YOU!"

#3: The biggie. A really horrific nightmare I had last night. So horrific that I woke sweating and panicked and had to go to Mister A's room and just touch him and when that wasn't sufficient, I poked him in the belly to make him move. Then when I'd ensured he was there and safe and not forcefully removed from our family (I'll get to that), I sat in the rocker in the corner and cried over the nightmare that sent me stumbling into his room at 3am in the first place. The nightmare started with J and I arriving at the hospital to have Bumblebee, Mister A in tow, because what nearly 17 month old wouldn't enjoy experiencing a c-section? Except when we got there, our car was swarmed by hospital personnel with a stretcher in tow. They removed my A from his car seat, strapped him down on the stretcher, blindfolded him, and started to wheel him off. I was screaming and my usually supportive J was MIA. (I'll bet he was playing with his new iTouch or something.) The evil hospital people told me this was how it worked- we had to trade A in for B. I protested and howled and bargained as tree leaves blew into my face and clouded my vision, but nobody would listen and they wheeled off my terrified baby boy. See? Horrible. It doesn't take a trained psychoanalyst to see the meaning behind that one, I suppose. But, damn. I thought the pre-wedding "I SHOWED UP WITHOUT MAKEUP!" dreams were scary.

I don't even know why I'm posting this, and half in caps, at that. I'm absolutely grateful, I'm certainly excited to meet my daughter, I'm beyond ready to be done with diabetes and barf burps and burning through eighty five rolls of toilet paper a week. I know we'll all get through this in one piece, the new normal will become just plain old normal. But for tonight, panic reigns. So I'll eat pizza and watch something totally unrelated to babies, then I'll go to sleep hoping for sweet dreams and a calmer state of mind come tomorrow morning. And some encouraging comments from the moms of 2 or more wouldn't hurt, either, even if you have to make something up. Like, say, "it's so easy! You'll love both babies the same! Your hair will get washed! You'll fit into your skinny jeans by March!" Or other important things like that. If you'd like to tell me to run and hide and take the Goldfish with me, well then, keep that to your (crazy unshowered) self.

Monday, December 28, 2009

it was merry and bright

And just like that, it's all over. There's something so gloomy about awakening on the 26th December with the realization that it's over. Wrapping paper filling the recycling bin, tree standing dark in the corner waiting for dismantling and bagging, stockings laying empty on the floor. Just a houseful of mess needing cleaning, packing, storing. Not that I have any reason to be feeling any gloomish feelings, because this Christmas absolutely lived up to all the preparation and hype. Christmas, my friends, was very good, chock-full of all the cheery adjectives on the many cards we received- merry, joyous, peaceful, blessed. Of course, I missed my parents and my baby brother very much, and I could have done without the bloated ham hangover I was rocking Thursday night, but otherwise ... holiday success all around. Quality time with my two favorite boys, my sweet sister, my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. The next day, more of the same with MIL and J's aunt. The celebration of the birth of our Savior shared with a little one not old enough to grasp the concept but willing to snuggle in my lap and listen to the story, nodding his little blonde head as if he understands it all ... while chewing on the baby Jesus from his Little People nativity set (thanks for that, Sara and family!) Good food, good (non-alch) wine, a big tin of sweet treats on my doorstep from a very special friend (thanks again, Kim!) And of course, the gifts. Gifts big and small, each thoughtful and/or helpful and/or FREAKING AMAZING.

Instead of saying much more, since I've got a Kindle loaded with good reads and a big, brand new, cozy king size mattress beckoning to read upon, I'll just share photographic evidence of the wonderful, wonderful holiday. I hope yours was equally enjoyable, and here's to a fabulous last few days of 2009!

Anderson and cousin Chloe
Mister A (OVER the picture thing), Auntie Megan, Chloe
me, belly, J, uncooperative A
googly eyes for everyone
Chloe got a vacuum for Christmas. Anderson stole it.

Christmas morning

Friday, December 25, 2009

merry christmas!

Christmas with a little one is Christmas as it was intended to be enjoyed.  Truly, more joyous than I'd ever imagined possible.  My sleepy faced pajama clad boy with blankie in hand, his face lighting up at the sight of the Cozy Coupe car and its big red bow.  My husband and I, as excited as our boy, sleepiness giving way to giddiness during a 6:45am celebration of Santa's middle night visit.  

Mister A's smile sums up our holiday so far.  Joy.  Innocence.  Oh, so special.

Monday, December 21, 2009

big boy chair

Beware, the following photos may make you want to reach through your computer screen and squeeze the daylights out of a certain someone's smiley little cheeks.  Or maybe I'm just biased, you know, being his mom and half creator of said little cheeks and all.  

My happy boy is the proud new owner of the ubiquitous (in the toddler world, at least) PBK Anywhere Chair, and I do mean proud.  I let him open this Christmas gift from his Grandma and Grandpa on Saturday.  A little early, I know, but since he's got approximately 239 gifts under the tree I thought we'd try out the Hanukkah way and spread the gift openings out a bit.  This one was a hit, as you can clearly see here.

Then, the monkey in him discovered chairs are good for something other than sitting adorably atop.  They're good for reaching things.  Like your Christmas stocking, for example.  Naughty, naughty, A .... Santa's watching.

Today, I'm very excited about two things and very not excited about another.

Very excited about: MEGAN!  In AUSTIN!  My baby sister is flying in to spend Christmas week with us, and her visit will surely be jam packed with super exciting activities.  Like staying in our sweatpants all day and making cookies (which I'll eat just one of and then run the stairs, OKAY Dr. S??) and watching Christmas movies and laughing until our stomachs hurt as sisters do best.  I'm SO excited to have her here, to have some help finishing up my last minute Christmas to-dos, and to hear all about her fabulous LA adventures.

Also very excited about: my new KitchenAid stand mixer!  I've been envying my friends with these handy mixers forever.  I've burnt through two cheapo handheld mixers this year, and when my very generous grandparents sent a very generous Target gift card, I eschewed anything super practical and bought myself this beautifully engineered kitchen countertop appliance.  I know.  I know.  Part of me has died with the realization that I no longer consider a freaking mixer "practical".  But the time crunched mommy in me is thrilled to have an easier way to whip up baked goods and baby foods and whatever else it is that people make with these things. 

Not so excited about: A's afternoon appointment with the ENT doctor.  His physician phobia has grown more and more severe with all these recent visits to the pediatrician (and their evil pokes and prods and chilly diaper-only weigh-ins).  He's now taken to screaming as soon as he is lifted from the car and spies the cheery yellow exterior of his pediatrician's office.  Hopefully the new downtown locale will fool him, but I know the oblivion won't last long.  One look at the ear looker thingy or a thermometer, and our afternoon will be officially down the drain, all at the low low cost of a $50 specialist copay.  Let's just hope this doctor is helpful and kind and gets Mister's ears whipped into shape once and for all.

Ta ta, friends, and happy Christmas week!  Safe travels to the travelers and good luck to the last minute shoppers among us.  

Thursday, December 17, 2009

panic, aisle 4

Spotted on a package of bacon purchased today at HEB:

Um, people?  That's Bumblebee's eviction date.

The idea that I now have food in my fridge that will still be edible when Miss Bumblebee is born makes me quiver with panic.  As much as I'd like to sleep more than two hours without a bathroom break and to not feel like my ribs are breaking in half  .... I'd still like to slow things down just a smidge.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

it's beginning to look a lot like ...

BABY TIME.  And Christmas, too, but after today's visit from the UPS man  ... the foyer's got "hey, you're having a baby ... again" written all over it:

Bumblebee is now the proud owner of a very girlie pack and play, and part owner of my dream double stroller, the Bumbleride Indie Twin in a very sassy shade of ruby red.  Lucky girl, that Bumblebee is.  And lucky girl, I am.  (A big huge special thanks to my awesome parents for the super cool baby gift!  A & B are going to ride in style!  Thank you, thank you!)

I must give thanks to the UPS man today for turning things around on this chilly Wednesday.  The cozy Chick-fil-a takeout lunch with my BNFF (best neighbor friend forever) also helped lift my spirits, of course, but seeing that beloved brown truck pull up and unload these two packages really kicked the cranky pants right off of me.  My day hadn't started off well.  I had a pile of work assignments making my eyes go crossed, a fetus carving out a home in my lower rib cage, and a little man who only wanted to be held and any failure on my part to comply with these demands was punishable by tears and screaming.  I dissolved into tears of my own by 9:30am, wondering what on EARTH I'd been thinking that convinced me I could handle pregnancy and a toddler.  Or a teeny weeny needy newborn and a toddler.  But leave it to the UPS man appealing to my materialistic ways to save the day with a couple of eagerly awaited packages!

So here's to you, Mister UPS Man.  Not only do you totally rock those little brown shorts of yours, even in December, but you made this SAHM's afternoon.  Even if you did wake up my kid by doing an annoying double ring of the doorbell.  Knock next time, and you'll really be my hero.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

week in review

-Anderbug would more aptly have been named Andermonster this week.  There was kicking and screaming and hair pulling and that was all before, like, 10am on Monday.  He was up and down all week and had me convinced it was the eye teeth poking through or some sort of toddler rebellion, the beginning of the "terrible one and a halfs" my friends warn me of.  Only today, Sunday, aka Day The Pediatrician is Closed, are we convinced it's the ears bothering him.  (We are convinced of such because we're geniuses.  And also because he was covering his ears and shrieking half the day while looking at us like we're total idiots for not getting the hint a few days ago.)  Ears, again.  Or ears, STILL.  Fantastic.  Antibiotic #3, fail, a mortgage payment worth of co-pays and antibiotics and gas money from the pedi office/CVS to-and-fro down the drain.  But worst of all (obviously) is the knowledge that poor A's in pain and there's not much to do about it but keep the Motrin and Tylenol flowing.  So tomorrow, I call Dr. C once more and I'm thinking we're ENT-bound to resolve this mess once and for all.  Poor, poor A.  

-Since I'm kvetching about our health, I'll also go ahead and admit I took a flying leap off the Gestational Diabetes wagon this week.  ("Fell off the wagon" sounds so passive.  It wasn't passive.  It was maniacally deliberate.)  You see, turns out a full time stay at home mommy can only handle so many consecutive days of kicking and screaming and hair pulling whilst kept indoors by rain and clouds before she sort of loses her shit.  So after the wee one is in bed, she runs to the pantry, whips out the PB cookie mix and chocolate kisses, and disobeys doctor's orders out of pure desperation for something comforting.  Since wine was out, this was the next best/worst thing.  And you want to know the kicker?  After shoveling down, um, a few cookies and waiting a few hours, I tested my blood sugar.  The target for a two hour post meal reading is 120.  I was expecting my number to be something shocking.  Like 23, 901.  But my number?  It was a 114.  ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN.  People, I could eat nothing but dry lettuce and saltless nuts and boiled eggs for dinner and register higher than that.  But countless sugary PB cookies adorned with even more sugary chocolate kisses?  Apparently acceptable to my idiot pancreas.  Nice work, organs.

Okay.  That's pretty much our week, right there.  Tears, breakdowns, and misery all around.  Bet you wish you lived at our house!

Today, at long last, was Sunday.  J-Day.  We like our J days around here, as you very well know.  And it was an absolutely beautiful day, a random 70 degree sunshine filled afternoon.  After a stroll around Home Depot and some scrumptious Which 'Wich subs, we spent most of the day out in the yard.  There were a few tons of leaves needing to be raked up and bagged, and one of A's Christmas presents waiting to be assembled.  He received a super cool playhouse from his Mimi and Papaw, and while we're well aware that there are still a few weeks between now and the holiday, we had no storage options for the dining table-sized box, so we jumped the gun a bit.  J got it all put together quickly and the Mister was pretty curious about this fun new contraption out in the yard.  I foresee many fun hours for Mister and Bumblebee in the playhouse!

So to make up for the very boring post above, I give you pictures.

The playhouse construction foremen take a snack break.  (The big one on the left got a stick of low fat string cheese, the cuter one on the right munched graham crackers.  Unfair.)

Enjoying his al fresco snack time.

"Yep, dad, that screw goes right there ... you got it!"

"This is neat!  Thanks, Mimi and Papaw!"

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

holiday jammies

me: "J, doesn't A look SO CUTE in his new Christmas pajamas?"
J: "No comment."
me: "J, what do you mean?"
J: "Well, I suppose he looks as cute as a guy can look wearing bright red pajamas with reindeer on his feet.  He's going to hate you someday, you know.  I'm SO not taking the blame for this one."

Monday, December 7, 2009

santa = overrated

Today, I took the Mister to the mall to see Santa Clause.  I got him dressed in his holiday vest, we navigated rain soaked roads singing along to the Elf soundtrack, stood in the semi-long line of fidgety kids in itchy wool sweaters, I forked out $24.99+ tax for the cheapest package including an image on CD and handed over my sweet, happy boy to Old Saint Nick ..... and then this happened:
I stepped forward after a few shots to adjust A's pant leg to cover that bright white sock.  Santa pretty much threw A at me as soon as I got within 12 inches, so I took that to mean we were done with Santa pictures.  Safe to say, our A's likely earned a spot on the Naughty List for this year.  It's okay, A.  I thought he was kind of creepy, too.


Here's how you know your Monday might be a rough one.  It starts like this: wake at 2am to pee.  Wake at 3am to pee.  Wake at 4am to pee.  During this particular trip to the loo, discover way too late that there's no more toilet paper on the toilet paper roll.  (Maybe because someone pees eleventy billion times a day/night?)  It's dark.  Reach up to over-toilet cabinet and pray there's a roll of TP on the bottom (read: within reach) shelf.  No go, but you rip off your finger nail trying to open cabinet door.  And as you lumber your way out of the loo, you step on a Little People and say a few words you really shouldn't be saying before Monday has even started.  And wake up the dog.  Who nips the back of your leg as you try to hoist yourself back into bed.  

Is it Friday now?

Saturday, December 5, 2009

winter event

Oh, Texas, you winter tease.  All week long, we were being prepped for a WINTER EVENT.  Snow, they said!  Frigid temps!  Schools may close!  Travel advisories!  So like the rest of my Texas friends, I ran out mid-week and bought Mister A his very first winter coat to be ready for THE EVENT.  It was slim pickings out there, so the style wasn't one I'd probably choose if given more options, but it's warm and it fit.  After coat shopping, we stopped at the grocery store to stock up on milk and diapers and green olives and cat food- you know, the things the various inhabitants of our household would die a swift death if stranded without.  And Friday morning, we waited (well, I waited) in breathless anticipation of this winter event.  And waited.  And waited.  I put in a pot roast, thinking surely we'd need something warm and wholesome to get us through THE EVENT.  Annnnnd waited.  We went out for a walk in the late morning hours and saw a few flurries in the air.  But surely that wasn't THE EVENT, so we waited some more.  And around 1:00pm, four fluffy snowflakes spun down from the clouds, hit the driveway, and melted. 

Then the sun came out.

The end of THE EVENT.

At least I got some cute pictures of the little man out of this.  And I will say, snow or no snow, the coat was a good buy.  The temperature here in Austin this morning?  In the twenties.  That's actually COLD, I don't care who you are or where you live.  If Ralph, woodland creature hunter extraordinaire, refuses to go's cold.

My winter boy:

I call this one...."MOM!  THERE'S NO SNOW!  And I can't lift my arms!"

To top off the snowless letdown of a day, we ended up back at the pediatrician's office in the late afternoon.  Ear infection, round three.  Or round one dragging out for a month.  I can't tell you which, because someone's petrified shrieks made it kind of hard to hear what Dr. C was telling me about his ears.  It sounded kind of like this "right ear ...  WAAAAHHHHHHH ... persistent ... WAAAAAHHHHH ... two week recheck ... WAAAHHHHHHH ... just pay me my $30 copay and get out of here because you're scaring the other children" and off to CVS we went for another bottle of drugs.  All I know is, he has this one last antibiotic and one last chance for the ears to heal.  If not, we'll be referred to a specialist to investigate.  So if you've got any "get-better-A's-ears" vibes laying around, send those our way.  

Thursday, December 3, 2009

mullet house

My house has a Christmas light mullet.  

Business in the front...

Party in the back!

You see, when it comes to Christmas lighting, J's of the "keep it simple" train of thought.  White lights.  Straight lines.  Understated.  (Boring, if you ask me.)  Me?  I didn't even know tiny white lights existed until I was 20.  At my house, we were all about the old school, big colored bulbs strung round the tree, on the roof, around the door.  But J holds strong to his belief that the holiday lights, they must be white and tiny.  So this year, as has become habit by our 5th marital Christmas, I gave J his way with the front of the house.  Because he's the boss.  Because he puts the lights up and I don't really have a choice since I don't know how to put up lights.  But the back porch?  MINE!  I OWN IT.  Thanks to a little help from my ever helpful FIL, I have the lights of my childhood Christmases past strung up, down, and all around my back porch.  It's a total kitsch-fest, it's probably costing us $20 a day in electricity, and I'm pretty sure our neighbors (other than my appreciative little buddy Drew) are confused about the illumination mishmash.  But mama's happy.  


But happy.

goodbye, cookies

You know what you never want to see happen when you're having bloodwork done at a lab?  The lab tech, upon reading your results, letting out an incredulous snort.  And of course, because my reproductive system is on some crazy relentless vendetta against me, this is exactly what happened to me at the lab yesterday.  Gestational diabetes testing.  (Those of you who know me well or who have followed along since ye old blog know I was plagued with GD during my pregnancy with Mister A.)  So the night before the test, I ate a juicy, protein-rich steak with a super tantalizing side of plain green beans- not the famous GBC.  And when my good intentioned but seriously forgetful husband came home with a loaf of hot french bread to accompany the meal, I promptly marched him into the backyard to hand over the carb-infested loaf over the fence to my favorite neighbor.  Yes, he pouted.  Yes, I know I'm mean.  Too bad.  I fasted through the morning.  I glug-glugged my sugary test drink on the way to the lab and damn near drove off the road when the sugar high hit.  And then, I had my blood drawn and failed.  Miserably.  So miserably that the lab tech had to apologize for her lack of professionalism for that little snort thing she did.  

Here's the funny part- my reaction was kind of a nonchalant "well, that sucks".  My reaction upon receiving this same GD news last time, circa (way back in) July 2008?  Woohooboy.  It was more "this is the end of the world and why can't my body ever do anything right and I'm going to read all the worst case scenarios and worry myself sick and cry myself to sleep for days!!"  I think the reason for the contrasting dispositions is twofold.  First, I'm all around more sane this time around, I know crying will just give me puffy eyes and make me want ice cream even more, and I just don't have the luxury of time to wallow in self pity.  Second and most importantly: I know the reward is worth the struggle, ten times over.  I know holding my little Bumblebee safe and sound on February 12 will be sweeter than any frosted sugar cookie or heaping bowl of Cap'n Crunch.  (Well, I'll hold her with one arm.  The other will be busy holding a bag of Reese's PB cups and a chocolate shake.)  But seriously- I know what is in store for us on that day, I know how fast these weeks will go, I know there's absolutely nothing in the whole world I couldn't give up if it means that all consuming, heart exploding joy will come on February 12 like I did on September 17. 

I must say though, it helped ease the pain having a doctor who happens to be a medical genius.  Through his intensive, in-depth, proven research, Dr. S tells me he's found it to be true that diabetes magically disappears on holidays.  Just *poof* gone!  So if you need me this month on the 24th or 25th, check the kitchen.  Under the pile of sugar cookies.

So, there you have it.  I've got GD.  Again. 

On to the good news- Bumblebee looks fabulous.  She's not measuring all that far ahead (60th percentile...her big brother was always around the 90th, making her a peanut in comparison).  She was opening and closing her little mouth over and over again like she was carrying on a one-sided, very fascinating conversation with herself in there.  Movement good, heartbeat good, the cutest chubby cheeks.  So she's good, that's what matters, and that's what will carry me through the next 67 days of joyless eating.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must return to the pantry purging.  Goodbye, beloved sweets and comforting carbs.  After this, A and I head to the grocery store to stock up on essentials (sugarless, carbless essentials).  If you hadn't heard, Austin's about to be hit by a BIG HUGE WINTER STORM.  One that could leave a dusting of snow.  And if we get that dusting, the Mister and I will be going nowhere near the mean streets of Austin until the sunshine and 60+ degree temps return.  My Austinite compadres may be good at a lot of things, but they do not know how to handle a car in inclement weather, so we'll be hibernating in our safe, warm house until the Decemberish weather moves on through.