Pooh Bear mobiles sure are fun.

When you make rolled out cookies..

It is normal to form & bake that little bit of extra dough into a dirty shape, right?

By The Numbers This Week..

8 bags frozen breast milk in the freezer,
22 3/4 inch long baby,
3 trips to my mom & dad's house,
1 mega pot of chicken noodle soup,
0 thank you notes written,
1:30 average time of day I brush my teeth,
5 weeks of being a mom without messing up the kid TOO badly,
6 "playing" stations set up throughout my house,
4 cardigan sweaters in rotation to be worn over my "billowy" early preg tops,
and 2 times I have noticed that my underwear is on inside out.

So this just about sums up motherhood so far..

"Oh this on my shirt? It's either pee or breastmilk."

Hard sleeps + sweaty-sticky-uppy-hair + chubby arms = bliss.

"I realize it is a little too soon to be talking about this, but..."

This was what Evan started to say to me on our walk last night. At which point my uterus gave a yelp, ran, and hid.

Then he finished his thought, which was only about childcare options. Or something.

Not about more kids. Not like I thought that's where he was going or anything..

Mah Hero!

BIG shout-out to Supergirl (aka "Bibi", "Chocolatey Claire", "Mom") for getting LJB to take not one but TWO naps in his crib today!!!

(and believe it or not, this is the least slutty image of Supergirl that I could find on Google...)

here we go...

Well, my kid sure is cute. One question though... should I have been required to pass a written exam or do a baby internship or something? Because right now I do not think I would not have passed that class...

Sorry little Levi.. we'll learn together!

So. An update.

Due date has come and gone, I am puffy and crabby with a ton of amniotic fluid, and am subsequently working from home, anticipating a water break gush by sitting on a pee pad like an unhousebroken chihuahua.

So we'll go ahead and create a "TMI" label now, as I'm sure it will be used again very soon...

I would like to thank the masses for telling me that I am "all baby" and that the 50+ pounds I've gained are only in my belly.

Therefore, it is with deep regret that I inform you that I have just discovered my first stretch marks. Massive angry streaks... on my butt.

So maybe I have been "sure do liking" pancakes a little too much...

Dear Kid:

Ready when you are. Really. I'm tired of running to google every time I may have a "pre labor" symptom. Who knew a loose poop could make me so excited?

huh.

Today I thought my water broke. Turns out I had just peed my pants a little..

October!

So kid... about this due date you have coming up this month. You're going to NOT take after your mama in the area of puncutality, and actually show up on time (dare I ask it.. even early!), right?

I don't mind carrying you around all the time. I really don't. Yes, you are pretty darn heavy. And I do look like a crazy person in the grocery store parking lot when I make that "world's strongest man" grunt every time I get out of the car before I realize there are people around.

But let's get down to the serious issue here:

It is now fall. And none of my closed-toe shoes fit.

Dear Kid:

You'll be here in 5 weeks. Well, technically, according to the range of "normal" births with respect to due dates, you'll be here in 2-7 weeks. (two??!! oy.)

What do you look like? Do you have dark eyes and an ample bottom like both of your parents?

And do you like it when I tickle what I can only assume is your little butt, or is that little kick that follows a display of "my mom is so embarrassing" annoyance?

Also, did you know that your momma looks like a crazy person when she talks to you while she is driving?

"Nice" it forward (part II)...

So some mysterious stranger paid for the Daewoo's repairs last week. Out of nowhere. 100% paid. Yep, apparently that really happens sometimes. In Brentwood, no less!

(Nubira, it seems, was leaking/spilling/emitting something that was spilling/leaking/emitting onto something else, and creating a lovely mixture of carbon monoxide to be breathed in by the passengers. Don't ignore when your car smells "hot", folks.)

Evan was the one to call me with the news. After my initial "YAY!!", what was my reaction?

Was it "God has blessed us with a gift, which we should use to help others"? Sadly, no, although my good husband brought that to my attention later that day. (I swear... I so married up.)

Was it "ooooh! I has a secret admirer!!"? Hee hee... no. Although I do have this nice rack these days..

It was "Good heavens! What on EARTH was I wearing where I looked so poor and pitiful that some well-meaning stranger mistook me for a ragamuffin??"

I brought brownies and a thank-you note to the car shop the next day, and thanked my lucky stars that the kind stranger would never know the extent of my ridiculous paranoia.

Now, what to do with the extra $300 that didn't go to Rhea Little's Auto Shop. There is this village in Kenya that does need a water well...

Dear Kid:

I sure do love you.

See you next month.

love,
Mom

Like a bra for your belly...

You know, I had resolved to be one of those pregnant ladies who carries herself properly. No heaving or grunting. No over-sized tweety bird t-shirts. Don't put away the cute shoes. Certainly don't sacrifice your hair. Keep the underwear cute and tiny, even if the rest of the body grows.

And.

Screw it. Screw it all. The only rule I have not yet broken (oh please, no) is the tweety bird t-shirt. And the most recent addition to my pile of shame (which includes 2 pairs of shoes which I have worn every single day for the past 6 months, the geriatric arch supports that go IN the shoes, the humongo cotton panties, and the "good heavens- is that my grandmother's bra?")?

A belly belt. A bra. For your belly. A brelly. It is hideous. And I love it so much.

Highlights From This Week...

• We got a house.
• I clipped my toenails (seriously. reckoning with The Belly, this is a big dang deal.).
• Found out I am measuring 1 week ahead. Which means... unofficial October 13th due date??

The sad part is, I am equally excited about all three....

Onward, ever upward.

Well, folks, we knew this day would happen. I've.... I've...

I've gone up a panty size.

:hangs head:
:rests chin awkwardly on belly:

And these boobs! Having just gotten mine, I don't know how you people have handled them all these years! Did you know that you SWEAT under there?? and that going braless isn't nearly as cute?

Kid, c'mon, let's be reasonable here. You've got two more months to cook... you don't have to use your super powers to make everything huge now, do you? Let's work out some sort of installment plan..

Big 'uns

"You gots two, mebbe tree.. two or tree bebbies in dere!"
-Cute old Italian grocery bagger

"That's awfully high for a boy... and...what? OCTOBER?? Giiirl..."
-Cashier

"Well, you've just blossomed!"
-the M-I-L

"WHOA."
-Everyone.

"Nice" it forward..

I was crossing the parking lot of the Brentwood publix the other day when a woman pulled up in a gold convertible (okay... it was shimmery tan. that's gold enough, right? not the James Brown coffin gold, but the we-could-totally-see-this-in-our-dad's-driveway-after-he-retires gold.).

She told me I looked cute. I did my little grin/head tilt/one shoulder shrug and said thanks. She said, "No, really. You do. I remember back when it was me, I always wondered if I looked cute or if I looked fat. Know that you do look cute."

I suppressed the urge to waddle-hop into her car and kiss her, and instead resolved to someday BE the woman in the shimmering convertible... making young pregnant girls in giant yellow dresses feel insanely good about themselves for a few glowing minutes.

Dear Kid:

What name should I choose to call you forever?

and..

What name could you have forever and still NOT hate your weirdo parents?

love,

Mom

lovely day

Yesterday was shitty. Tummy was meh, work sucky, back ouchie, hair not lustrous... the prototypical Crap day.


Evan sensed the foulness when I spoke to him in the afternoon, and was there that night when I got home, ready and waiting with dinner and a grocery sack of my favorite things. Black olives, jalapenos, bread, cheese... (:sigh:). And then at the bottom of the bag, it was... it was...

I am not ashamed to admit that I wept over a 4-pack of natural sodas.

Happy Anniversary, love.

Then I look at you and the world's alright with me...

I win!

I do not consider myself a competitive person. I don't challenge Scrabble words. I lose in Trivial Pursuit with a shrug and an "oh well". I perpetually take last place in card games, usually with a negative score. Doesn't matter. I'm cool with it.

But today...

Today, at the OB I peed in a cup. And when I placed the pee cup in the little wall cubby, there was another one already there from someone else.

Mine was way more clear.

I totally won.

Peer Editing

I skipped the peer editing days in my college Southern Lit class. Every single one of them. I had an allotment of absences that I could take and still pass the class. I used them all up. Every. Single. One. Why? Because I am terrified of people reading what I write. I hang out with the Englishheads. I am not one, myself.

And yet, here we are. A buh..... a buh..... a bluh..... a BLOG.

I think I will primarily write about the kid. Maybe put up cutsie pictures. Maybe I'll reserve this thing for really big cusses.

But I tell you what. I sure do like pancakes.