Brian's still working on his list, and here's mine. Again, any comments are welcome.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Liz's revised name list
So here's the deal: We're each coming up with a list of our 10 favorite names, for a pool of 20 names, total. Then we'll trade lists, and I'll pick my five favorite from Brian's list and he'll pick his five favorite from my list. Then we'll sit on that list of 10 names for a few weeks, and maybe let them roll around in our heads until baby boy arrives.
Brian's still working on his list, and here's mine. Again, any comments are welcome.
Brian's still working on his list, and here's mine. Again, any comments are welcome.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
And, we're off!
And running, that is, in the race to prepare for baby's arrival.
Ordered the nursery furniture yesterday, and surprisingly, it's ready for pick up already. First we have to empty the second bedroom of its current furniture, however, so it looks like that will be Sunday's project. Our first bedroom set is going to a good new home, to Nicole & Will.
Saturday morning we will travel to Lancaster for our cloth diaper consultation, then we'll take a first stab at registering at Babies'R'Us.
I stopped by BRU last night to return the pink baby booties Lauren & Jeff got us (they got us a pink set and blue set, so they had the answer right regardless of Tuesday's news), and I figured I may as well get the registration part of registering out of the way while I was there. Good thing I did. It took about 20 minutes, and the attendant confirmed that Saturday will be nuts in the store, and filling out paperwork and learning the ropes that day could be a nightmare.
The other bonus to registering before actually taking the scan gun through the aisles is that I have a few days to review the guide and lists BRU provided and compare them against Baby Bargains and some ideas I have in mind. I'm trying to do as much advance work as possible, so that Saturday simply involves gathering price comparisons, scanning items we've (read: I've) already picked and having Brian try out strollers, since few are made to accommodate six-foot tall men.
He's already kind of dreading Saturday's agenda, so I want to make the boring stuff as seamless and easy as possible for him. It doesn't hurt that the day will end with good friends and copious amounts of booze for Brian. See, it's all about balance: I get what I want; he gets what he wants.
Oh, and yes, we're thinking about names again. Brian made it all the way through the "L"s in the name book, but he only found five names he likes, so far.
Ordered the nursery furniture yesterday, and surprisingly, it's ready for pick up already. First we have to empty the second bedroom of its current furniture, however, so it looks like that will be Sunday's project. Our first bedroom set is going to a good new home, to Nicole & Will.
Saturday morning we will travel to Lancaster for our cloth diaper consultation, then we'll take a first stab at registering at Babies'R'Us.
I stopped by BRU last night to return the pink baby booties Lauren & Jeff got us (they got us a pink set and blue set, so they had the answer right regardless of Tuesday's news), and I figured I may as well get the registration part of registering out of the way while I was there. Good thing I did. It took about 20 minutes, and the attendant confirmed that Saturday will be nuts in the store, and filling out paperwork and learning the ropes that day could be a nightmare.
The other bonus to registering before actually taking the scan gun through the aisles is that I have a few days to review the guide and lists BRU provided and compare them against Baby Bargains and some ideas I have in mind. I'm trying to do as much advance work as possible, so that Saturday simply involves gathering price comparisons, scanning items we've (read: I've) already picked and having Brian try out strollers, since few are made to accommodate six-foot tall men.
He's already kind of dreading Saturday's agenda, so I want to make the boring stuff as seamless and easy as possible for him. It doesn't hurt that the day will end with good friends and copious amounts of booze for Brian. See, it's all about balance: I get what I want; he gets what he wants.
Oh, and yes, we're thinking about names again. Brian made it all the way through the "L"s in the name book, but he only found five names he likes, so far.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
This message brought to you by Brothers Pizza
The one by the new Target, in High Pointe Commons. Great people, and the pizza is good, too. Buy your pizza from them.
Holy balls, Batman, it's a Turtle!
FYI, Brian named this post.
Brian also identified the anatomy before the sonographer confirmed it is what he thought it was. She called it a turtle.
So the official Brassell household score is now four peckers vs. one hoo-hoo. That's Brian, Spike, Hercules and Baby Boy Brassell vs. lonely little me. That's OK; we all know who really holds things together. :)
Although I am now thinking seriously of investing in baby powder. Not for the baby, mind you, but for returns on anticipated future use, if son is anything like father. Just this morning, I commented on Brian's excessive use of powder as he poured a cup-full into his hand for purposes of talcing up the boys. He told me the extra powder was warranted; after all, it was a "big day."
As for the stats, Baby Boy Brassell measured 19 weeks, zero days and 10 ounces. Heartbeat was a healthy 143, and everything else looks good. We'll get a full review of all the measurements at my March 9 appointment.
Stay tuned for a review of the family reaction...
It's a ...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
... secret until we make the announcement over dinner to the grandparents- and aunts- and uncles-to-be! But here are a couple of treats to tide you over.
First, a photo of baby waving
Aand second, a video of baby sucking its toes!
Check back later tonight for the big news!! Hint: One of the grandmas-to-be guessed correctly!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
... secret until we make the announcement over dinner to the grandparents- and aunts- and uncles-to-be! But here are a couple of treats to tide you over.
First, a photo of baby waving
Aand second, a video of baby sucking its toes!
Check back later tonight for the big news!! Hint: One of the grandmas-to-be guessed correctly!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Sober in State College: My First Hormonal Meltdown
Brian and I shared a fun weekend with four of my THON friends from college and their spouses. Although we both had our doubts about my patience spending an entire weekend in a town full of drunken college kids, surrounded by my drunken friends, I not only survived the weekend, but I actually really had a lot of fun. We took advantage of the opportunity to do a few sober things we rarely do on visits back to our alma mater, like stroll through the HUB, visit the renovated commons building I lived next to for two years, window shop downtown and walk around THON for more than just a minute.
All-in-all, it was a really nice weekend spent laughing, reminiscing and catching up with people we wish we saw more often.
However, the weekend did also feature one not-so-pleasant moment for me, when I totally lost control and became a crazy irrational pregnant psycho.
Imagine this: me, lips quivering uncontrollably and tears streaming down my face faster than I can wipe them away. When? At midnight, Saturday night. Where? In the Adams Apple, while about a dozen or so people enjoying sins watched uncomfortably, all trying to avoid my gaze.
And now for the best part. Why? Because the bartender refused me a cup of hot decaf tea.
However, since this meltdown was the unfortunate culmination of a number of frustrations, lemme back up a few hours to Bar Bleu, where my patience was first tested.
We get to the bar around 9 p.m., to order some food before hitting another bar or two. Upon opening the door, we're greeted by a bouncer requesting a $3 cover from each of us to enter this martini/sports bar. Of course I'm a little miffed, since we're just there to eat, we plan to leave before the band begins and we're never even going to step foot downstairs, where the band is to play. So basically, the bar is requesting nearly $30 from us, to allow us the priviledge of paying for food and beverages in their establishment. Whatever, if it's fine with everyone else, it's fine with me.
After shelling out $3, I sit down and make what I think is a pretty simple request, a glass of grapefruit juice. Our cocky little weasel-shit of a server tells me he's pretty sure they don't "have any of that," so I get a water and quietly begin to simmer. Convinced that the weasel-shit doesn't know what he's talking about -- I mean seriously, this is a bar that never serves a seabreeze or greyhound? -- I ask Brian if he'll check with the bartender. He does, and she confirms we've found the one effing bar in the world that doesn't carry the single mixology staple that appeals to me at the moment.
Alright, everyone else is enjoying their drinks, so I suck it up and stick with water. Hopefully the menu has something appealing to offer.
Wrong. The menu has not a single item that appeals to me. To illustrate, here are just a few of the samplings: a "pig plate" of pulled pork, ribs and some other oink specialty; a platter of sausages and deep-fried pierogies; and buffalo wings. Absolutely nothing that would do for me. But everyone else is excited to try the fried and barbequed vittles, so I assure Brian I'm really not all that hungry anyway, he should order and we should both enjoy the conversation. All the while I silently steam some more. Everyone else sucks down their own $7 individual pitchers of Jack-and-Cokes.
Eventually everyone else at the table joins me in my pissed offedness, however, when after ONE AND ONE HALF HOURS, NO FOOD HAS YET ARRIVED. Did I mention we're the ONLY TABLE IN THE PLACE THAT ORDERED FOOD? Someone inquires about the food, weasel-shit brings out utensils and promises the food is coming right out. It does come shortly, and EVERY SINGLE PLATE IS COLD. I'm not talking luke-warm-because-it's-been-sitting-under-a-crappy-heat-lamp-for-10-minutes-cold, I'm taking just-pulled-it-from-the-refrigerator-cold. Forks are thrown down, hands are thrown up, and weasel-shit consoles us by saying "yeah, it's actually all the kitchen's fault." Oh, and he makes things right by telling us the manager has already taken $20 off our bill. Since each plate costs more than $10, a couple of members of our group inform weasel-shit that solution just won't do, and that we need to see the manager.
Enter manager, a chubby weasel-shit who has spiked hair and maybe two years on weasel-shit-the-first. He does the best he can do in a situation spiraling towards disaster (Remember the really cheap booze? That's all that has been consumed over the past two hours, at the pace only a bunch of 30 year-olds acting like 21 year-olds can achieve), and takes all the food charges off our bill while bringing out new platters of fried food. Turns out Bar Bleu had just started offering this new menu, which somehow affects the hours of the kitchen, and the kitchen staff had closed up for the night at some point during the process of preparing our orders. It doesn't make a bit of sense, but it's the only excuse the manager offered.
Everyone else seems content with their cold, yet free, dinners, however, I'm still pissed at having paid $3 to sit and watch everyone else wait for cold food. So I demand our covers back on top of the comped food, and the manager sheepishly agrees. Next thing you know, the bouncer is walking around the table counting out three one dollar bills for each of us.
By this point the crowd for the downstairs band is starting to form, so the front door is constantly opening and closing. Since our table is right in front of the door, I'm getting a horrible draft every 45 seconds. So I call another server over and ask if she could get me a cup of hot tea. Don't know what the hell I was expecting, but I'm sure you guessed it: the cover-charging, no-grapefruit-juice-carrying, weasel-shit employing, cold-food serving suck-ass bar carries no tea.
Finally, we leave. Never, ever to return. We head to an old favorite, the Adam's Apple, so that every one else can enjoy sins in all their liquor and champagne goodness, while we all sit by the fireplace and chat.
And here's where it gets nasty. I approach the bar just moments after Fitz and Claffee, so I patiently wait as the bartender stirs up a sin for each of them and their wives. While he's mixing, however, blondie pops up to the bar, right next to me. It becomes obvious that the bartender knows this chick, as he starts ribbing her about getting past the bouncers underage. I take a quick peek, and this chick has got to be 40. But she's flirting with the bartender, so as soon as he finishes the sins for my friends, he asks her what he can get her. At this point I think my ears actually started smoking, because, again, I had been waiting patiently, next in line.
This old cougar makes a drink request the likes of which I have NEVER heard, in my 13 years of bartending. Leaning over the bar and with all the class and tact you can imagine approprite for such an order, she asks him for a labia splitter, a shot she's apparently had a few of somewhere else tonight. He retorts by telling her just where she can find his labia splitter, and the two engage in the kind of vulgar banter I'd never expect at the bar connected to the effing Tavern. I swear to all that is holy this is the God's honest truth because I could never in my life make this shit up.
I think I must have looked like I was going to explode at that point, because the bartender finally moved over to me and asked me what he could get me. I asked for a sin for Brian and a cup of hot tea for me. He tells me they don't have tea, and I tell him I'm sure they do, as all it requires is hot water from the coffee station and I'd be happy to dunk my own tea bag. Smart ass tells me there is no one to get me hot water or a tea bag, since the restaurant closed an hour earlier.
I give up, literally throwing my hands up in the air, and I walk away from the bar while Brian retrieves and pays for his sin. Next thing I know, my eyes are burning, and I have completely lost any semblance of control, as my friends begin to notice I'm now bawling and failing miserably at disguising my breakdown by pretending to check my phone. Brian tried to console me, and I assured him that I knew my reaction was completely irrational and that I wasn't really crazy, I was just acting like it and couldn't stop at the moment. Looking panicked, he brought Erin over to talk to me as he begged a couple of teenage bus boys to do anything they could to find tea for the crazy crying pregnant lady. They stuck with the bartender and told him there was just no way for them to get tea at midnight.
After a brief chat with Erin, I regained my composure and rejoined the group for another hour or so of jokes and stories.
And I think I'll probably call the owner of the Tavern this week to let him know of my experience. Why? Because after a decade and a half of working in restauratns, I just don't buy the line of shit that hot water ceases to become available when food stops coming out of the kitchen. I think the staff was lazy, and I think Pat should know.
Oh, and for what it's worth, I'd rather never see the inside of a Penn State bar again while pregnant. Turns out it's not a town that caters to the non-drinking crowd. And let's face it, Nittany Lion Country is always just a little smoother around the edges when you have a solid buzz on.
Regardless, it was a great weekend with great friends.
All-in-all, it was a really nice weekend spent laughing, reminiscing and catching up with people we wish we saw more often.
However, the weekend did also feature one not-so-pleasant moment for me, when I totally lost control and became a crazy irrational pregnant psycho.
Imagine this: me, lips quivering uncontrollably and tears streaming down my face faster than I can wipe them away. When? At midnight, Saturday night. Where? In the Adams Apple, while about a dozen or so people enjoying sins watched uncomfortably, all trying to avoid my gaze.
And now for the best part. Why? Because the bartender refused me a cup of hot decaf tea.
However, since this meltdown was the unfortunate culmination of a number of frustrations, lemme back up a few hours to Bar Bleu, where my patience was first tested.
We get to the bar around 9 p.m., to order some food before hitting another bar or two. Upon opening the door, we're greeted by a bouncer requesting a $3 cover from each of us to enter this martini/sports bar. Of course I'm a little miffed, since we're just there to eat, we plan to leave before the band begins and we're never even going to step foot downstairs, where the band is to play. So basically, the bar is requesting nearly $30 from us, to allow us the priviledge of paying for food and beverages in their establishment. Whatever, if it's fine with everyone else, it's fine with me.
After shelling out $3, I sit down and make what I think is a pretty simple request, a glass of grapefruit juice. Our cocky little weasel-shit of a server tells me he's pretty sure they don't "have any of that," so I get a water and quietly begin to simmer. Convinced that the weasel-shit doesn't know what he's talking about -- I mean seriously, this is a bar that never serves a seabreeze or greyhound? -- I ask Brian if he'll check with the bartender. He does, and she confirms we've found the one effing bar in the world that doesn't carry the single mixology staple that appeals to me at the moment.
Alright, everyone else is enjoying their drinks, so I suck it up and stick with water. Hopefully the menu has something appealing to offer.
Wrong. The menu has not a single item that appeals to me. To illustrate, here are just a few of the samplings: a "pig plate" of pulled pork, ribs and some other oink specialty; a platter of sausages and deep-fried pierogies; and buffalo wings. Absolutely nothing that would do for me. But everyone else is excited to try the fried and barbequed vittles, so I assure Brian I'm really not all that hungry anyway, he should order and we should both enjoy the conversation. All the while I silently steam some more. Everyone else sucks down their own $7 individual pitchers of Jack-and-Cokes.
Eventually everyone else at the table joins me in my pissed offedness, however, when after ONE AND ONE HALF HOURS, NO FOOD HAS YET ARRIVED. Did I mention we're the ONLY TABLE IN THE PLACE THAT ORDERED FOOD? Someone inquires about the food, weasel-shit brings out utensils and promises the food is coming right out. It does come shortly, and EVERY SINGLE PLATE IS COLD. I'm not talking luke-warm-because-it's-been-sitting-under-a-crappy-heat-lamp-for-10-minutes-cold, I'm taking just-pulled-it-from-the-refrigerator-cold. Forks are thrown down, hands are thrown up, and weasel-shit consoles us by saying "yeah, it's actually all the kitchen's fault." Oh, and he makes things right by telling us the manager has already taken $20 off our bill. Since each plate costs more than $10, a couple of members of our group inform weasel-shit that solution just won't do, and that we need to see the manager.
Enter manager, a chubby weasel-shit who has spiked hair and maybe two years on weasel-shit-the-first. He does the best he can do in a situation spiraling towards disaster (Remember the really cheap booze? That's all that has been consumed over the past two hours, at the pace only a bunch of 30 year-olds acting like 21 year-olds can achieve), and takes all the food charges off our bill while bringing out new platters of fried food. Turns out Bar Bleu had just started offering this new menu, which somehow affects the hours of the kitchen, and the kitchen staff had closed up for the night at some point during the process of preparing our orders. It doesn't make a bit of sense, but it's the only excuse the manager offered.
Everyone else seems content with their cold, yet free, dinners, however, I'm still pissed at having paid $3 to sit and watch everyone else wait for cold food. So I demand our covers back on top of the comped food, and the manager sheepishly agrees. Next thing you know, the bouncer is walking around the table counting out three one dollar bills for each of us.
By this point the crowd for the downstairs band is starting to form, so the front door is constantly opening and closing. Since our table is right in front of the door, I'm getting a horrible draft every 45 seconds. So I call another server over and ask if she could get me a cup of hot tea. Don't know what the hell I was expecting, but I'm sure you guessed it: the cover-charging, no-grapefruit-juice-carrying, weasel-shit employing, cold-food serving suck-ass bar carries no tea.
Finally, we leave. Never, ever to return. We head to an old favorite, the Adam's Apple, so that every one else can enjoy sins in all their liquor and champagne goodness, while we all sit by the fireplace and chat.
And here's where it gets nasty. I approach the bar just moments after Fitz and Claffee, so I patiently wait as the bartender stirs up a sin for each of them and their wives. While he's mixing, however, blondie pops up to the bar, right next to me. It becomes obvious that the bartender knows this chick, as he starts ribbing her about getting past the bouncers underage. I take a quick peek, and this chick has got to be 40. But she's flirting with the bartender, so as soon as he finishes the sins for my friends, he asks her what he can get her. At this point I think my ears actually started smoking, because, again, I had been waiting patiently, next in line.
This old cougar makes a drink request the likes of which I have NEVER heard, in my 13 years of bartending. Leaning over the bar and with all the class and tact you can imagine approprite for such an order, she asks him for a labia splitter, a shot she's apparently had a few of somewhere else tonight. He retorts by telling her just where she can find his labia splitter, and the two engage in the kind of vulgar banter I'd never expect at the bar connected to the effing Tavern. I swear to all that is holy this is the God's honest truth because I could never in my life make this shit up.
I think I must have looked like I was going to explode at that point, because the bartender finally moved over to me and asked me what he could get me. I asked for a sin for Brian and a cup of hot tea for me. He tells me they don't have tea, and I tell him I'm sure they do, as all it requires is hot water from the coffee station and I'd be happy to dunk my own tea bag. Smart ass tells me there is no one to get me hot water or a tea bag, since the restaurant closed an hour earlier.
I give up, literally throwing my hands up in the air, and I walk away from the bar while Brian retrieves and pays for his sin. Next thing I know, my eyes are burning, and I have completely lost any semblance of control, as my friends begin to notice I'm now bawling and failing miserably at disguising my breakdown by pretending to check my phone. Brian tried to console me, and I assured him that I knew my reaction was completely irrational and that I wasn't really crazy, I was just acting like it and couldn't stop at the moment. Looking panicked, he brought Erin over to talk to me as he begged a couple of teenage bus boys to do anything they could to find tea for the crazy crying pregnant lady. They stuck with the bartender and told him there was just no way for them to get tea at midnight.
After a brief chat with Erin, I regained my composure and rejoined the group for another hour or so of jokes and stories.
And I think I'll probably call the owner of the Tavern this week to let him know of my experience. Why? Because after a decade and a half of working in restauratns, I just don't buy the line of shit that hot water ceases to become available when food stops coming out of the kitchen. I think the staff was lazy, and I think Pat should know.
Oh, and for what it's worth, I'd rather never see the inside of a Penn State bar again while pregnant. Turns out it's not a town that caters to the non-drinking crowd. And let's face it, Nittany Lion Country is always just a little smoother around the edges when you have a solid buzz on.
Regardless, it was a great weekend with great friends.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Ah, what the heck: Whaddya think of these names?
Want to see and comment on my favorite names at this moment? Check out my name list.
Disclaimers:
Brian has in no way endorsed any of these names. In fact, he really dislikes a few of them. So this is by no means a list that is anywhere near final.
Further, I reserve the right to change my mind at any time, just as I have done many times over the past couple of months. Case-in-point, at one point I actually LOVED the names Veradis and Tanith for a girl and Taurian and Jayce for a boy. Now all four make me cringe.
Finally, while comments and thoughts from friends and family are welcome and encouraged, please understand this is OUR baby, and WE will ultimately choose the name. Love it and live with it. And even if you don't love it, you're gonna have to live with it, so you may as well try :)
Disclaimers:
Brian has in no way endorsed any of these names. In fact, he really dislikes a few of them. So this is by no means a list that is anywhere near final.
Further, I reserve the right to change my mind at any time, just as I have done many times over the past couple of months. Case-in-point, at one point I actually LOVED the names Veradis and Tanith for a girl and Taurian and Jayce for a boy. Now all four make me cringe.
Finally, while comments and thoughts from friends and family are welcome and encouraged, please understand this is OUR baby, and WE will ultimately choose the name. Love it and live with it. And even if you don't love it, you're gonna have to live with it, so you may as well try :)
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
18 weeks
Time. Is. Draaaaaagging. I just want to get to next Tuesday, to (hopefully) find out if this is a boy or girl. I feel like that is the shotgun that starts the race to July 22. Once one more good ultrasound is under the belt and we know the sex, then I feel like we can start the fun stuff: order furniture, start a registry, decide on bedding, clean out the nursery, etc.Did I just call all of that "fun stuff"? Wow, has my idea of fun changed. A year ago the thought of any of those things would have made me grimace.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Coming Clean
After my dear husband decided to share what I thought was somewhat personal and private news with both sides of the family and a handful of not-so-close acquaintances, I began reconsidering my decision to withhold some of the less entertaining and more unpleasant details of this pregnancy.
Since this blog has become a personal pregnancy journal of sorts, I've decided perhaps the less pleasant stuff should come out, too, so that if I'm ever in this position again, I can be reminded of all the milestones -- good and bad.
So in the interest of full disclosure, normal or not, here are a few of the secrets I've been keeping.
1. Constipation. This is the one that Brian really delighted in sharing. I suffered a mild case of this early on (I'm sure our families remember Brian's announcement that it wasn't just iced tea I was drinking with Thanksgiving dinner; it was prune juice), and most recently this past week. It became so uncomfortable Thursday that it made me cry (I'm talkin' ugly, face-screwed-up kind of crying), which turned Brian's good-humored jokes and teasing into genuine fear and compassion as he realized this was something serious and he could offer no help. I downed a big cup of prune juice Thursday night and another Friday morning, followed by 16 ounces of apple juice and a big cup of coffee. FINALLY, things started moving mid-morning Friday. I was so thankful to be relieved of all that pressure Friday that sent a short-and-sweet silly e-mail to Brian, and it apparently made his day.
Subject: and a choir of angels sang out
Body Content: HALLELUJIA
All the books say to avoid constipation, a woman should drink lots of water and eat plenty of fruits and veggies. Considering I do both, I'm beginning to think it's my prenatal vitamins that are holding things up. In any case, we're heading to Costco shortly, and I'll be looking for industrial-sized bottles of prune juice. Oh, and if you've never tried it, don't: that shit is NASTY.
2. A disappointing baby dream. Yes, I had a baby dream, on Wednesday, Feb. 4. No, I didn't share it, because it kind of freaked me out and disappointed me. The baby had hair in places no hair should have been, I couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl and a friend's ex-wife (who I've never really liked) accompanied him to the hospital to visit us. Very weird, somewhat disturbing and not something I enjoy revisiting.
3. Backne. It's getting better now, but this has been one my least favorite parts of pregnancy. It drives me nuts because it so totally grosses me out! No amount of scrubbing seems to do anything, and it itched like crazy early on. Ew, ew, ew.
4. Funky-smelling skin. This is the only one I haven't heard or read about before, but I can't have imagined it. In the first trimester, it seemed like my skin always smelled like, get ready ... garlic. Yeah, a good smell in a nice italian restaurant, not such a good smell when I'm tossing the girls into a bra in the morning. Gross. I'm glad that phase seems to be over, too.
So there you go, the less sexy and heretofore untold parts of my pregnancy. I promise to try to be more honest and forthcoming in the future. I just hope it doesn't result in lost readership because I gross you all out.
Since this blog has become a personal pregnancy journal of sorts, I've decided perhaps the less pleasant stuff should come out, too, so that if I'm ever in this position again, I can be reminded of all the milestones -- good and bad.
So in the interest of full disclosure, normal or not, here are a few of the secrets I've been keeping.
1. Constipation. This is the one that Brian really delighted in sharing. I suffered a mild case of this early on (I'm sure our families remember Brian's announcement that it wasn't just iced tea I was drinking with Thanksgiving dinner; it was prune juice), and most recently this past week. It became so uncomfortable Thursday that it made me cry (I'm talkin' ugly, face-screwed-up kind of crying), which turned Brian's good-humored jokes and teasing into genuine fear and compassion as he realized this was something serious and he could offer no help. I downed a big cup of prune juice Thursday night and another Friday morning, followed by 16 ounces of apple juice and a big cup of coffee. FINALLY, things started moving mid-morning Friday. I was so thankful to be relieved of all that pressure Friday that sent a short-and-sweet silly e-mail to Brian, and it apparently made his day.
Subject: and a choir of angels sang out
Body Content: HALLELUJIA
All the books say to avoid constipation, a woman should drink lots of water and eat plenty of fruits and veggies. Considering I do both, I'm beginning to think it's my prenatal vitamins that are holding things up. In any case, we're heading to Costco shortly, and I'll be looking for industrial-sized bottles of prune juice. Oh, and if you've never tried it, don't: that shit is NASTY.
2. A disappointing baby dream. Yes, I had a baby dream, on Wednesday, Feb. 4. No, I didn't share it, because it kind of freaked me out and disappointed me. The baby had hair in places no hair should have been, I couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl and a friend's ex-wife (who I've never really liked) accompanied him to the hospital to visit us. Very weird, somewhat disturbing and not something I enjoy revisiting.
3. Backne. It's getting better now, but this has been one my least favorite parts of pregnancy. It drives me nuts because it so totally grosses me out! No amount of scrubbing seems to do anything, and it itched like crazy early on. Ew, ew, ew.
4. Funky-smelling skin. This is the only one I haven't heard or read about before, but I can't have imagined it. In the first trimester, it seemed like my skin always smelled like, get ready ... garlic. Yeah, a good smell in a nice italian restaurant, not such a good smell when I'm tossing the girls into a bra in the morning. Gross. I'm glad that phase seems to be over, too.
So there you go, the less sexy and heretofore untold parts of my pregnancy. I promise to try to be more honest and forthcoming in the future. I just hope it doesn't result in lost readership because I gross you all out.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Alfred Angelo, bite me.
Here's the text of an e-mail I sent to my bride-to-be sister-in-law today. Since it's pregnancy related, I figured I should share it here, too.
We're hoping for the best.
-----Original Message-----
From: Liz
Sent: Thursday, February 12
To: Nicole
Subject: Ohmifreakingosh
Not sure why, but I decided to take another look online today at my bridesmaid dress for your wedding. Imagine my surprise when I searched “M” for maternity on the Alfred Angelo site, and MY DRESS DIDN’T COME UP.
Turns out the dress they sold me ISN’T A MATERNITY DRESS. They only offer one, and it’s the OTHER one they showed me in-store.
So, needless to say, I called the store to voice my concern. Manager-on-duty Christie confirmed that it’s "not really" a maternity dress, but it’s a dress they know has worked for other pregnant women. It’s "kind of forgiving," and it's "only missing the darts they put in the maternity dress" that make it fit over a big belly. I informed Christie, as I had told the chick who helped me, that I’ll be EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT at your wedding, about as BIG AS I CAN BE and that I have a feeling I MAY NEED THOSE MATERNITY DARTS!
Christie was very nice and told me she made a note in my file that their seamstress will put darts in the dress for me for free, if I need them. I’m thankful for her professionalism and I will remain positive unless I find reason to feel otherwise down the road.
Ohmifreakingosh.
We're hoping for the best.
-----Original Message-----
From: Liz
Sent: Thursday, February 12
To: Nicole
Subject: Ohmifreakingosh
Not sure why, but I decided to take another look online today at my bridesmaid dress for your wedding. Imagine my surprise when I searched “M” for maternity on the Alfred Angelo site, and MY DRESS DIDN’T COME UP.
Turns out the dress they sold me ISN’T A MATERNITY DRESS. They only offer one, and it’s the OTHER one they showed me in-store.
So, needless to say, I called the store to voice my concern. Manager-on-duty Christie confirmed that it’s "not really" a maternity dress, but it’s a dress they know has worked for other pregnant women. It’s "kind of forgiving," and it's "only missing the darts they put in the maternity dress" that make it fit over a big belly. I informed Christie, as I had told the chick who helped me, that I’ll be EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT at your wedding, about as BIG AS I CAN BE and that I have a feeling I MAY NEED THOSE MATERNITY DARTS!
Christie was very nice and told me she made a note in my file that their seamstress will put darts in the dress for me for free, if I need them. I’m thankful for her professionalism and I will remain positive unless I find reason to feel otherwise down the road.
Ohmifreakingosh.
Our Little Turnip
Thought my dad would appreciate this. Babycenter.com says at 17 weeks a baby is about 5 ounces, or the size of a turnip.
In other news, we're aiming for Feb. 28 or March 1 for a cloth diaper consultation. The mom who will meet to us is settling on a new house, moving and having her second baby all in about a month and a half, so we figured it's better to meet before her life is taken over with stress and excitement.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Is February too early to start a Christmas list?
I hope not, because I have my first Christmas wish! I know a certain grandma-to-be who is pretty handy with a sewing machine, and this looks pretty easy to make.
I say it looks easy to make, however I have not touched a sewing machine since 8th grade and would have no idea where to begin, even with detailed instructions.
And if you're interested in a good laugh, check out some of this girl's older posts. This blog is actually where I got most of my cloth diapering info, and this chick has a great sense of humor!
Just a sample, from her "about me" section: This is the story of how I went bat shit crazy, nearly overdosed on Tums, had my brain eaten by a fetus, my vagina torn apart and nipples set on fire and survived to tell about it.
I say it looks easy to make, however I have not touched a sewing machine since 8th grade and would have no idea where to begin, even with detailed instructions.
And if you're interested in a good laugh, check out some of this girl's older posts. This blog is actually where I got most of my cloth diapering info, and this chick has a great sense of humor!
Just a sample, from her "about me" section: This is the story of how I went bat shit crazy, nearly overdosed on Tums, had my brain eaten by a fetus, my vagina torn apart and nipples set on fire and survived to tell about it.
I was wrong, and boy am I glad!
Remember how I doubted the tummy bands or bella bands or whatever you want to call them would work?
I was wrong, and I'm glad to admit it. My dress pants were tight this morning, and I knew they'd be driving me nuts by the end of the day, so I pulled out a tummy band, wiggled into it, and it seems to be keeping my unbuttoned and halfway-zipped pants up pretty well. And it does just look like the bottom of a black tank top.
Yay for small miracles and ingenious inventions.
I was wrong, and I'm glad to admit it. My dress pants were tight this morning, and I knew they'd be driving me nuts by the end of the day, so I pulled out a tummy band, wiggled into it, and it seems to be keeping my unbuttoned and halfway-zipped pants up pretty well. And it does just look like the bottom of a black tank top.
Yay for small miracles and ingenious inventions.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Check out the link above the post archive!!
And start logging your guesses! You only have two weeks left to guess the gender, so get in early if you want to take a stab at it.
Brian made me post this - 17 Weeks
Check this out: in the past three days my mid-section has seen some serious expansion. Nothing compared to what's to come, I'm sure, but I think I've begun to "pop."
Brian took notice last night, so we decided we should take a picture today, even though it's an odd week.
Remember my comments early on about how posture and lighting make all the difference in the world? Brian wasn't hearing it this morning, and he threatened to spread rumors about me if I didn't post his choice of picture. And he scolded me: "Dude, it has taken more than four months for you to start getting a belly, and now you're going to put this picture up. End of story."
So today you get two pictures: Brian's favorite, followed by my pick. Note, however, that my work clothes still fit, and I slipped into a pencil skirt and cinched belt this morning. Granted, the skirt is a little tighter than usual, and the belt probably helps hold everything in, but I still don't think the belly in the first photo can be detected. 
Nonetheless, it looks like dressing for work will become more and more challenging in the next week or so. And after Saturday's disappointing discovery, I bought a pair of maternity jeans online so I have something to wear out in State College in a couple of weekends.
Brian took notice last night, so we decided we should take a picture today, even though it's an odd week.
Remember my comments early on about how posture and lighting make all the difference in the world? Brian wasn't hearing it this morning, and he threatened to spread rumors about me if I didn't post his choice of picture. And he scolded me: "Dude, it has taken more than four months for you to start getting a belly, and now you're going to put this picture up. End of story."
So today you get two pictures: Brian's favorite, followed by my pick. Note, however, that my work clothes still fit, and I slipped into a pencil skirt and cinched belt this morning. Granted, the skirt is a little tighter than usual, and the belt probably helps hold everything in, but I still don't think the belly in the first photo can be detected. 
Nonetheless, it looks like dressing for work will become more and more challenging in the next week or so. And after Saturday's disappointing discovery, I bought a pair of maternity jeans online so I have something to wear out in State College in a couple of weekends.
Monday, February 9, 2009
A Mushy Moment
Thanks, Mom, for the e-mail earlier this morning. Although I don't forward chain e-mails, I did appreciate this one.
In fact, I'll incorporate part of it into a photo, eventually.
When I get my pregnancy portraits done by Scott Church, I will incorporate the following into my favorite baby-belly image:
The wonderment growing inside me ... the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle ~Erma Bombeck
In fact, I'll incorporate part of it into a photo, eventually.
When I get my pregnancy portraits done by Scott Church, I will incorporate the following into my favorite baby-belly image:
The wonderment growing inside me ... the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle ~Erma Bombeck
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Nursery Bedding/Theme: How to Choose?
While we've decided on a gender-neutral theme for the nursery, we're still not going to pick anything until after Feb. 24, when we find out if it's a boy or girl.
But now that I've realized how vast and complicated the world of baby bedding can be (thanks, Baby Bargains), I figure it can't hurt to start getting an idea of what's out there and what we like.
The latter seems to be a challenge however: we can't decide if we like overtly baby and somewhat cartoonish themes, or if a more grown-up style suits us better.
What we do know is that we've got to pick something that will match the wall color. When we moved into this place last January we decided to do a bright green in the second bedroom, assuming it would become a nursery within a couple of years.
To give you an idea of how varied my taste is, all of these appeal to me on some level:
But now that I've realized how vast and complicated the world of baby bedding can be (thanks, Baby Bargains), I figure it can't hurt to start getting an idea of what's out there and what we like.
The latter seems to be a challenge however: we can't decide if we like overtly baby and somewhat cartoonish themes, or if a more grown-up style suits us better.
What we do know is that we've got to pick something that will match the wall color. When we moved into this place last January we decided to do a bright green in the second bedroom, assuming it would become a nursery within a couple of years.
To give you an idea of how varied my taste is, all of these appeal to me on some level:
Pregnant, or a few too many devil dogs?
Yup, it's official: I'm now in that awkward stage where I don't look pregnant, yet, just a little chubby.
I grabbed one of my "old faithful" favorite pairs of jeans yesterday, and while they still buttoned and zipped (thanks to the low-rise), they made me look ridiculous, with a goofy muffin top spilling out the front. Then I tried another pair (you know, the slightly more forgiving "fat jeans"), and I still wasn't happy with the image in the mirror.
So I gave up on the jeans and went with warm-up pants.
It's sad for me to think I won't wear any of my jeans again for months. There they sit atop my closet shelf, neatly folded and stacked, and there they will remain -- untouched -- for months. My comfortable, flattering go-to pants are no longer such. Options no longer available, yet staring down at me every time I open my closet. I know we have lots of exciting stuff ahead -- much more meaningful than pants -- but I just felt it appropriate to take a moment and mourn the loss of my jeans.
Temporarily, that is. I will be back in those pants later this year. :)
I grabbed one of my "old faithful" favorite pairs of jeans yesterday, and while they still buttoned and zipped (thanks to the low-rise), they made me look ridiculous, with a goofy muffin top spilling out the front. Then I tried another pair (you know, the slightly more forgiving "fat jeans"), and I still wasn't happy with the image in the mirror.
So I gave up on the jeans and went with warm-up pants.
It's sad for me to think I won't wear any of my jeans again for months. There they sit atop my closet shelf, neatly folded and stacked, and there they will remain -- untouched -- for months. My comfortable, flattering go-to pants are no longer such. Options no longer available, yet staring down at me every time I open my closet. I know we have lots of exciting stuff ahead -- much more meaningful than pants -- but I just felt it appropriate to take a moment and mourn the loss of my jeans.
Temporarily, that is. I will be back in those pants later this year. :)
Saturday, February 7, 2009
And the verdict is...
... Westwood Design furniture from Rock 'A' Bye Baby.
To Brian's great relief, the debate over nursery furniture has drawn to a close.
Visited BRU again this morning to check out the Baby Cache furniture one more time and found the drawer slides and armoire door hinges aren't as sturdy as I'd like.
Also got my Baby Bargains book in the mail today, and it clinched the deal. Westwood Design received their highest rating (based on parents' reviews, brand history and quality standards) for Westwood's "sturdy and high quality" furniture and excpetional customer service, which make it "worth the money and wait."
How did Baby Cache rank? Well, we don't really know. The line is made by Munire exclusively for BRU and JCPenneys, and while Munire also received an "A" rating from Baby Bargains, the Baby Cache line is new. No parents' reviews were available by the book's 2008 press time.
So, come the last week in February, we'll order the furniture from Hornung's. As of today, they even had all three pieces we want in stock! And if they don't in a few weeks, they said it typically takes 8 weeks for furniture to arrive, once ordered.
As for Baby Bargains, holy Batman what a GREAT book! (Thanks, Kristen, for the recommendation!) It offers prices, ratings and advice on all kinds of baby crap, from maternity clothes to cribs and from diapers to car seats. The ratings are all based on the opinions of experts (doctors, nurses, etc.) and parents, and the book is very frank in telling parents-to-be what things are worth splurging on and what stuff is a waste of money. I'm already halfway through the book, and I know more now about crib mattresses and breast pumps than I ever thought I would. It also has a great guide for the one other furniture item we're still on the look-out for: a glider/ottoman combo. Of course the glider I really liked today at BRU turns out to have a "D" rating, but I'm glad I found out how low-quality it is before we bought one! This book is going to be worth its weight in gold when we start our registry in a few weeks. Yes, I will be the one walking around the store, looking each item up as we go.
Also, to Brian and anyone else who has made fun of my spreadsheets and self-torture with regard to this decision over nursery furniture, this book is my vindication. First, that I (ok, we) picked out two quality brands to start, and second, that there are other people out there like me who want all the facts and details for comparison. The authors and readers of this book also love spreadsheets. So there.
To Brian's great relief, the debate over nursery furniture has drawn to a close.
Visited BRU again this morning to check out the Baby Cache furniture one more time and found the drawer slides and armoire door hinges aren't as sturdy as I'd like.
Also got my Baby Bargains book in the mail today, and it clinched the deal. Westwood Design received their highest rating (based on parents' reviews, brand history and quality standards) for Westwood's "sturdy and high quality" furniture and excpetional customer service, which make it "worth the money and wait."
How did Baby Cache rank? Well, we don't really know. The line is made by Munire exclusively for BRU and JCPenneys, and while Munire also received an "A" rating from Baby Bargains, the Baby Cache line is new. No parents' reviews were available by the book's 2008 press time.
So, come the last week in February, we'll order the furniture from Hornung's. As of today, they even had all three pieces we want in stock! And if they don't in a few weeks, they said it typically takes 8 weeks for furniture to arrive, once ordered.
As for Baby Bargains, holy Batman what a GREAT book! (Thanks, Kristen, for the recommendation!) It offers prices, ratings and advice on all kinds of baby crap, from maternity clothes to cribs and from diapers to car seats. The ratings are all based on the opinions of experts (doctors, nurses, etc.) and parents, and the book is very frank in telling parents-to-be what things are worth splurging on and what stuff is a waste of money. I'm already halfway through the book, and I know more now about crib mattresses and breast pumps than I ever thought I would. It also has a great guide for the one other furniture item we're still on the look-out for: a glider/ottoman combo. Of course the glider I really liked today at BRU turns out to have a "D" rating, but I'm glad I found out how low-quality it is before we bought one! This book is going to be worth its weight in gold when we start our registry in a few weeks. Yes, I will be the one walking around the store, looking each item up as we go.
Also, to Brian and anyone else who has made fun of my spreadsheets and self-torture with regard to this decision over nursery furniture, this book is my vindication. First, that I (ok, we) picked out two quality brands to start, and second, that there are other people out there like me who want all the facts and details for comparison. The authors and readers of this book also love spreadsheets. So there.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
16 weeks, with Spike
Still not much, which is frustrating to Brian. But I reminded him today that Leah K. told me a couple years ago she didn't start showing until her fifth month. That would be just fine by me.Word is starting to spread around the office, although I'm still waiting for that perfect opportunity to share the news with coworkers directly.
The good news of late is that my boss and the top-boss at Revenue reviewed my proposed plan for maternity leave, and they're fine with it. Now we're trying to figure out how to present the plan to the Gov's office, and we're hoping and praying the top-boss over there approves it. Not the Gov, that is (he will likely never know who I am or that I'm pregnant), but one of his staff. The plan is for me to take three months off paid leave (sick for the first two, annual/personal for the third), followed by nine months of a part-time, three-day-a-week work schedule, until the baby's first birthday. I was pleasantly surprised to find out how flexible Revenue is in allowing part-time schedules for parental leave, and I'm excited to (hopefully) stretch my time off with the baby over the course of the whole first year, rather than all up front. Hmmm, four day weekends every week for nine months. :) And even better, Revenue won't change my employee classification for that nine-month span, so I'll still have all my health benefits at no extra cost. Yippee!!
Add to that the fact that we may be able to swing the entire first year without having to pay for daycare (a couple of very generous family members have tentatively volunteered for regular babysitting duties *thank you, thank you, thank you*), and everything is coming up roses, so far!
So, keep your fingers crossed that we get through this last level of approval without any issues...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)