Mid-Day Outing

I spend a lot of time lately popping into stores for just one or two items. With feeding Eleanor every 2-3 hours, I don't have time for major excursions in-between. But it's still nice to get out of the house and remind myself that there is a wider world beyond my front door. If I can just gather everything for the diaper bag, keep the baby quiet and happy, and manage to buckle the car seat in correctly, then I can participate in the adult world for a short time.

Running errands is the perfect way to spend my hour or so of free time. All the stores are within 5 minutes' drive of our house, and shopping has no set time limit. If it's going well, I can browse longer. If it's not, we cut our losses and head home, and hopefully the car has lulled Eleanor back to sleep before I pull in the garage.

Last week, I was at Target, following the slammed door incident. The breast-feeding part that I had originally intended to buy was out of stock, so I was desperately searching for something else to put in my cart, so I didn't just buy peanut M&Ms and a bottle of wine.

As I glanced around the store, I noticed the seasonal section across the aisle had been transformed into a Halloween wonderland. And a grown man was standing in the costume aisle, seriously considering the mummy mask, then putting it back and fingering the Frankenstein hands.

And I think I've been living in the 9-5 world for a little bit too long. Because I was fascinated by the fact that a healthy adult male was shopping for a Halloween costume at 1 o'clock in the afternoon. It's been such a long time since I was out and about during the workday that I think everyone else should be chained to their desks.

I immediately started imagining a scenario where it was extremely important to him that he have the perfect Halloween costume. So important that he blew off an afternoon of work in mid-September to start looking. Ex-girlfriend's Halloween party? Big work shindig where everyone is expected to dress up to show that they're part of the team? Maybe not a Halloween party at all—maybe he was a bank robber and finding a disguise was work.

He probably wasn't skipping work at all. But he was still looking at Halloween costumes in mid-September (which seems ridiculously early to me). And no matter what his real story was, I appreciated having something to mull over as the "free time" timer dinged in my head, and I hurried back home to feed the baby.

Like a Hurricane Hit

You know your life is crazy when you forget to mention that your car broke down. When that's minor, compared to the other catastrophes of life.

My parents came over yesterday afternoon—ostensibly for the Bengals game, but really to see Eleanor. My mom noticed that the glass window in the back door had a huge crack running through it, sealed over with duct tape.

"What happened to your door?" She logically enquired.

"The dog did it," was my short answer, although the more truthful answer is that the dog caused me to break the glass.

He really has no shame. He eats anything and everything that is left within snout's reach. Wicker clothes hamper, plastic breast pump parts, dirty diapers ... anything that sounds entirely unappealing to a sane human being, my dog demolishes.

The middle of last week, Eleanor and I were unexpectedly running to the store to replace a breast feeding part that Beckett had eaten. I closed the back door and hadn't even made it down the porch steps before I heard him grabbing the empty pizza boxes off the stove. A hot, fiery rage filled my veins.

I ripped the door back open, grabbed the one pizza box on the floor, and started banging it around as I looked for the dog and the other pizza box. When I found him and the partially shredded pizza box (he'd only had 30 seconds, or else it would have been completely gone), I yelled at the top of my lungs about what a bad, disrespectful dog he was. I banged around the pizza box some more to work out a bit more of my frustration. I threw the pizza boxes on top of the fridge, which he hasn't figured out how to get to (yet), went back outside, and slammed the door for good measure.

Hence, the cracked glass.

Then on Friday, Keith's car wouldn't start when was leaving work. Completely dead. Some good Samaritan gave him a jump. Which you would think is a good thing ... except it meant that it died again a few blocks later. Only this time he was in the middle of a busy downtown street, blocking traffic, instead of in his parking lot. And the car was so dead, he couldn't even get the hazard lights to come on, so he got many dirty looks and filthy words hurled at him as he waited over an hour for the tow truck.

So yesterday afternoon I explained about the door to my Mom, but completely forgot to even mention the car fiasco. And that was BEFORE our power went out early Sunday evening, thanks to the high winds of Hurricane Ike's leftovers. As of mid-day today, our power is still out. The power company is saying that, with so many homes out of power (about 400,000 in the Northeast Ohio area, according to cleveland.com), it may be until the end of the week until power is restored everywhere.

This morning I packed up Eleanor, Eleanor-related necessities (two bulging bags) and the ungrateful, disrespectful dog, and headed out to my sister's place on the Westside, which had never lost power. And here I am.

I'm hoping the silver lining is that normal life won't seem so bad after this. The baby may be screaming, but at least I can watch "Project Runway" to drown her out! I'm dirty from cleaning up another one of the dog's messes? At least I'm assured of hot water for a shower!

After dealing with this, it will all seem easy, right?

The First 8 Weeks

Good news! We're only halfway through September, and I'm writing my first post. Hopefully, this means I might actually write October's first post in the first week or so ... and by Eleanor's second birthday, I might be back to posting on a regular basis! Or maybe that's too ambitious .....
So yes, things around here have been hectic. A baby is seriously hard work. Harder than anything I've ever done before. But even with all the sleepless nights and difficult feedings, it hasn't been all bad.

When I look back on this time, I hope I don't just remember the problems and frustrations. I also want to remember that, for the first month, Eleanor hiccuped just as much out of the womb as she had in it, which is quite a lot. She actually started hiccuping during delivery, which I found very distracting!

I don't want to forget how she moved as a newborn—her jerky arm and leg movements as she first started to unfurl from the little ball she had been for months. I love the feel of her sleeping on my chest, heavy and completely trusting. And the first time she looked up at me and smiled, at about six weeks, was amazing.

Still In Survival Mode

Remember over a month ago, when I promised more pictures and posts of the baby soon? That was crazy talk.

The past six weeks (six weeks!) have been insane. Other than the usual sleep deprivation and complete rearranging of our entire lives that new parents experience, we've had a lot of issues with feeding her and slow weight gain. Because of this, I've spent pretty much all day, every day since she was born feeding her. Or waking her up to feed her, or getting ready to feed her. Sometimes it's a struggle to find time to feed myself. I scarf down a sandwich while she impatiently cries in hunger. As you can see from the photo, it's worn us all out.

So am I finally posting now because we have it all worked out? No. We've made significant progress, but we're not there yet. I'm posting because it's the end of the day, August 31, and if I don't post today I'll miss an entire MONTH for the first time since I started this blog and that is unacceptable, even during this crazy time.

Hopefully I will start posting again soon. I think about posts, and compose them in my head during marathon nursing sessions. But getting to a computer and actually getting them written and online is a completely different matter. So try not to forget about me, check your RSS feed once in a while .... I shall return!

Introducing Eleanor

Keith and I are proud and happy to announce the birth of Eleanor.
Birth day: Sunday, July 20, 9:14am
Weight: 8 pounds, 2 ounces
Length: 20.5 inches
1o fingers, 10 toes, a fabulously developed set of lungs!

We're now at home, getting settled into the new routine. Expect many more posts and pictures in the coming days!

Bereft and Directionless without Satellite

I like to claim that I don't watch TV that much. I pretend like it's all Keith's fault that we have a big flat panel TV and fancy satellite dish. Although I will admit that even I cannot live without DVR anymore. You know, for when I want to record the Jane Austen series on Masterpiece Theatre.

But apparently, all of my posturing about not needing to watch TV is a pack of lies. Because our satellite is not currently hooked up, and I'm in a corner, twitching.

To take off the old roof and put on the new roof, the roofers had to remove and reinstall the satellite dish. Fair enough. But they don't actually reposition it properly—we have to call the satellite TV service to take care of that.

The satellite TV service wants to charge us a $50 service call to reposition the satellite. We're not big fans of that. So Keith wants to try repositioning it himself first. Being "fiscally responsible" (aka stingy), I approve of this plan.

Except. I'm home all the time now. And I don't have a whole lot of energy. All I really want to do is flip on the TV and watch other people do things while I knit a baby blanket for my sister or fall asleep on the couch. But Keith won't be able to try and reposition the satellite until probably the weekend, at the earliest.

I'm a little surprised how disconnected I feel without the TV. I know part of it is KNOWING that I can't turn the TV on, even if I wanted to. Well, I could watch a DVD, but I can't watch actual television programs.

I'm listening to NPR, which I often listen to all day at work, and it's surprisingly dissatisfying. I miss the moving pictures! Maybe I'm just going through the withdrawal, and by tomorrow the need for TV will be lessened. Maybe this will bring on labor, because I don't have anything else to amuse me.

Incommunicado

Last week, the rules about communication with my immediate family changed. I think it happened after my last doctor's appointment, when I eagerly called everyone and told them the doctor thought I could go into labor any day now.

Suddenly, my phone calls "just to chat" were no longer welcome. The person on the other end of the line would invariably answer with nearly hysterical excitement in her voice. But as soon as I said I wasn't in labor, the excitement was gone.

Now, no one wants to actually talk to me. They just want to hear that I'm in labor and they should hurry over to the hospital. The ironic part is this only afflicts immediate family—the people that would actually get the call to come to the hospital for the birth. I'm still allowed to call other people just to catch up, it's just those closest to me that find the sound of my non-laboring voice so very disappointing.

So I've stopped calling people over the past few days. If my mom or sisters want to find out how I'm doing, I let them call me. Which is another way that the rules have changed. Normally, I don't feel the need to rush and answering a ringing phone. If I'm in a store, I send it to voicemail. Or if I'm in the middle of something, I might wait and see who is calling and give him a call back at a more convenient time.

But those days are long gone. Because now, if Keith or I don't answer the phone, I feel certain that the caller will immediately jump to the conclusion that we're engaged in much more important activities. Like having a baby.

So I make hardly any outgoing calls. But I obsessively answer all incoming ones. I'm guessing this will be the new routine until I actually have reason to make The Call.

We love to cut it close

Well, the roofers arrived this morning. Our house was originally on the schedule for last week, which I thought would be great. Definitely finished by the baby's arrival time.

Except then, because of weather, it got pushed back to Monday. And then to today. And when they weren't here by 8 o'clock, I was afraid that they weren't coming at all.

But they did roll in around 9 .... half of a crew, instead of a whole crew. And informed me that, instead of being a 1-day job as I was originally told (2 at the outside), they're expecting it to take 3 days. Meaning that they would finish on my Thursday, July 17. You know, my due date.

I don't really know what to think. Is this normal? Is this to be expected when you're having a large job being done where the schedule is weather dependent? Should I be annoyed and arguing with the main office about the scheduling? Or should I just take it in stride?

My fear is that something will come up. If everything goes exactly as according to the estimate I originally signed, there's no need for Keith and me to be around and accessible. But what if things change? They find decking that needs to be replaced that wasn't covered by the original estimate and they need us to approve the additional cost of changes? I'm guessing it would be rather difficult for us to discuss roofing issues in-between contractions.

But anyway, let's focus on the good news: They have started. Even if they don't finish until Thursday, the forecast predicts no rain until Sunday. And, even if I go into labor today—as soon as I finish this post?—once I give birth and stay in the hospital for a few days, everything should still be finished before I come home with Little L. I'm just going to block out the racket above me, and focus on the positives. Or try.

Officially in Waiting

So, I'm done working. I have a "To Do" list around the house, because it's a physical impossibility for me not to ... but everything on the list is mentally marked with an asterisk that says "if I don't go into labor first."

It was very strange to clear off my desk last week, knowing that I wouldn't be back for months. I had originally offered to work from home this week, depending on how I felt. But it sounds like HR doesn't really approve of people working from home, and I don't want to go back into the office after I've officially gone on maternity leave (so anticlimactic, you know?) so I guess I'm pretty much done with work.

Today I plan on going grocery shopping, cleaning up around the house a bit, working on curtains for the nursery maybe (one down, three to go). My little sister, who is just starting summer vacation from school, is going to come and hang out with me, so maybe we'll sit on the deck in the backyard, sipping iced tea and admiring the lovely tiger lilies, as photographed by Keith above.

I'm excited for a relaxing, laid-back day. But I'm also hoping that my plans change suddenly because Little L has decided it's time to make an appearance. As I told Keith this morning, I've never been so disappointed to get a good night's sleep as I was when I woke up and realized dawn had broken without me going into labor. I know it's still a few days before my due date, but I'm an impatient person! Any other items are my list are just marking time—giving birth is really the next (and only) item on the REAL to-do list. Hopefully I can distract myself enough with the other, less-important tasks, so the wait doesn't seem so long.

Seriously Counting Down

Sorry my posting has been so sporadic lately. I expected July to be bad, but my lack of posts in June caught me by surprise. Apologies!

But seriously, I need to warn you that I might be disappearing off the interwebs very shortly. The due date for Little L is July 17, but who knows? I go to the doctor every week nowadays, and for the past two weeks they've waved me off with a cheerful, "See you next week, unless you give birth first!"

This is my last week of work, I'm very excited to report. I have been pretty tired lately, so I'm looking forward to being able to take it easy during the day next week, just keep the house basically clean, read a little, nap a little, etc ..... assuming the countdown is still ongoing, that is. If I don't go into labor until the 17th or after, early July should be great for my post count. But if you don't hear from me again after this, wish me, Keith, and the baby all the best! Many, many pictures will be forthcoming, I'm sure.

Finally Unveiled: The Nursery!

I know it's been a looong time since I alluded to this, but I'm finally posting a few pictures of the finished nursery. We're very excited with how it turned out. And not a moment too soon!

Items of note: The purple blanket on the edge of the crib is one I knitted myself for the baby. I'm also pretty excited about the basket of books that is on the floor, next to the glider rocking chair. And many, many props to Keith and my dad for hanging the fabulous white trim that separates the brown stripes and green solid color below.

It is a wonderful room. I love the light that fills it in the morning, and I think the colors are very welcoming and soothing. As our guest bedroom, we never spent much time in there. But now that it's the nursery, I know we'll both be in there day and night!

Our Pizza Box Holder

We haven't been very good about cooking lately. Partly because we've been busy, and I've been extra tired. And partly because we know we won't have the discretionary income in a few weeks to be ordering out all the time.

I've started referring to the stove as our "pizza box holder," since it seems to be doing more of that lately than actually being fired up. I hope we're not making it harder for ourselves to adjust after the baby arrives. Falling into bad habits now that will be hard to break later.

But I figure, any habit we have now is irrelevant post-baby. I don't really think we can assume that anything will be the same when we get home from the hospital. So even if the stove is a pizza box holder now, I think we'll be able to see it in a whole new light with Little L around.

It will be the surface on which we slap together peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Fascinating, Captain*

Well, we made it through the weekend! Keith's family came to visit and we had a great time hanging out. Overall, it was pretty laid back. But even so, and with all the help they gave me, I was still pretty worn out by Sunday evening. I'm very glad this is a 4-day week! (For my international readers: Friday we have off to celebrate our Independence Day.)

Most of the weekend we used paper plates for everything, because it just made life a whole lot easier. But I decided to really step it up a notch on Sunday morning and use real plates. I set the table with placemats, the smaller square plates, silverware, juice glasses, napkins—the works! If you didn't know better, you might actually think that Keith and I eat meals at the table on a regular basis.

So anyway, I turned all of the square plates at an angle to the rectangular placements, so they appeared as a diamond-shape to the diners. I liked the contrast of shapes. I did this as I set the table, and then completely forgot about it.

Maybe a half-hour later, after all of the eggs, goetta, watermelon, etc. had been consumed, Keith's sister Jessica looked around the table. She realized that half of us had left our plates as set, and the other half had turned them so the straight edge was against the table edge. Upon further inspection, we realized that all of the engineers (which includes Keith's dad, because his mom argues the kids got their engineering brains from him) had turned their plates so the straight edge was facing them. All of us non-engineers had left them cock-eyed.

I hadn't meant for the plates to be a psychological experiment, but I think the results were very telling!


* In case you're not as big a dork as I am, you may not realize the title is a reference to Spock on the original Star Trek television series.

Happy Birthday Keith!

Finally! Yesterday was Keith's 30th birthday, so the long 3 months when I am older than he are now over for another year.

It was our usual, laid-back affair. We went with some couple friends (that is, friends who are a couple, not two un-related friends) to dinner at a Mexican restaurant and to see the new(ish?) Indiana Jones movie. Beckett must even have known it was a special occasion, because he behaved himself while we were gone. This is more impressive when you know that, while we were at work on Tuesday, he got into the trash and pantry—and ate my Oreos!—, pooped in the attic, and peed in the basement. All in a day's work.

So even the dog behaved himself and when we got home from the movie, we actually got to bed at a decent hour. That part was very important because tonight is going to be a long night. Keith's family is coming up this weekend to celebrate Keith being old, and also to see the Reds play the Indians at Progressive Field. As always, we had the best intentions of cleaning every night this week so it wouldn't be so bad tonight. And we tried, but never really got as far as we wanted. So tonight will be a cleaning extravaganza. I hope the old man's knees don't give out when he's scrubbing the floor at 1 am!;)

The camera loves the kitten

Since getting the new camera, Keith has taken a million pictures of random items around our house, trying to get the depth of field, focus, lighting, etc., just right. He wants to get used to all of the features so that the first pictures of Little L come out perfect.

So far, I would say that the kitten has been his favorite subject, and the dog is a close second. Followed by inanimate objects within 2 inches of the lens (he really likes that short depth of field option), and then me.

Wednesday night was my last official writing group meeting before the baby arrives. I said I may show up in July or not .... it all depends on when Little L shows up. So my writing group members turned our meeting into a mini-shower and gave me all sorts of wonderful toys and clothes for the baby. When I got home, I showed the latest acquisitions to Keith and Gomez showed up to investigate. So the picture above is Gomez modeling a hand-crocheted frog hat from a girl in my writing group. Isn't it adorable?

The only problem is that Gomez seems to think all of the new goodies are for her. She's in for a rude awakening, but I don't have the heart to break it to her just yet.

And it just keeps growing

Just when you think the belly can't get any bigger ... surprise!





Keep in mind, the cropping is a bit different in the most recent photo. And it was taken with our new camera that Keith, dutiful citizen that he is, spent our "Economic Stimulus Check" on. We both knew we wanted a camera that took better indoor pictures than our old one, and he did all the research to decide we had to have a Canon XSI. So that explains the better detail, different colors, etc.

But anyway, this isn't about the camera. It's about the belly. Isn't it impressive?

Missing in Action

Sorry I've been MIA for such a long time. I've been trying to put my finger on why I haven't written lately, but I'm not exactly sure. There's plenty to write about, but I just never seem to have the energy to sit down and write about it. And maybe that's the problem; I'm just too tired.

The short version of what's going on today is:
1) We've recently learned that we need to replace all of our windows, due to lead paint issues. Just when we were coming to terms with that, our roof started leaking. So we'll go from being in a pretty good financial position (1 student loan paid off a few months ago, nearly ready to pay off the car loan that isn't even a year old yet) to looking at taking out a substantial home improvement loan just to get our house livable again.
2) On the other hand, remember when I was talking about my gardening project? Apparently, by buying 5 bags of mulch, we got entered into a raffle to win a $100 gift certificate to our local garden center ... and we won! We were shocked; Keith and I never win random games of chance. Unfortunately, we can't really spend the money because we're waiting for the soil testing results to come back. If the soil around our house is contaminated with lead, any hot spots need to be dug out down to 2 feet to get rid of the hazard. So not much point in planting new flowers.

Old houses can be so charming! See, just writing this brief summary makes me want to take a nap.

Hazards of the Doctor's Office

My perception of the doctor's office has been shaped by the fact that, for the most part, I am a healthy person. The doctor's office is someplace you go when you're not well, and they make you better. In general, it's a place I don't see the inside of very often. When I do, it's usually for another sinus infection or, say, breaking my finger.

This has changed since I've been pregnant. I'm at the doctor's office all the time now, it feels like. And not for any reason other than the fact that I'm still pregnant. I don't have any complaints or symptoms that need addressing, I just go in because I have another scheduled appointment.

It had never really occurred to me before that there's hazards to hanging around the doctor's office too much. Because you know who spends a lot of time there? Sick people! And the elderly. The elderly who really shouldn't be driving. Their ancient, enormous cars fill the parking lots of doctors' offices across the country.

I had another check-up this past week. It went well. I'm still pregnant. The doctor said the baby was a "good size." I haven't figure out yet if that's a euphemism for "rather large" or really just a good size. I'm not sure if I want to narrow it down.

When leaving the medical building, I pulled up to the left-turn lane. The driveway to the building is three lanes wide—one lane for incoming traffic, a center lane for outgoing traffic turning left or going straight, and the right-hand lane for outgoing traffic turning right. So I'm in the center lane, waiting for the light to turn green so I can turn left and be on my way.

The light turns green in surprisingly short order, and I'm just starting to pull out and curve left .... when I notice that there's another outbound car on the left-side of me, also turning left at the light.

Which would be fine, except that lane is for INCOMING traffic. Not that basic traffic rules stopped this elderly woman from calmly going out the inbound lane, and gracefully turning left onto the road.

What could I do? I also turned left, right along-side her, and into the curb lane. It's a good thing that we were turning onto a street that had four lanes, so there were two lanes headed in our direction, and we could each turn into one. The situation was only marked by its complete lack of alarm or distress. I'm driving alone in my car, wondering "Did that really just happen?". But she drives calmly on, no one honks or shakes a fist .... and I'm left to ponder the hazards of visiting a place where the elderly are known to congregate.

I will not be visiting a bingo hall anytime soon.

That Joke? Still Not Funny

Mr. "Alright for a Monday" strikes again. He's been driving me crazy all week and there's no sign that it will abate any time soon.

I feel the need to reiterate, once again, that he is a very kind person and a good human being. Would give you the shirt off his back and all that. " But although he is truly nice ... he is also genuinely not funny. Or rather, every once in a great while, lightning strikes and he says something hilarious. That has not been the case this week.

The biggest problem is if he finds a "joke" that he likes the sound of, he repeats it over and over and over again. And it wasn't even funny the first time.

When I saw him on Monday, he feigned amazement. "You still around?" he said. "You haven't had that baby yet?"

I gritted my teeth and hope he mistook the grimace for a friendly grin. "Not yet!" I replied. Because what else can I say? It's true; I haven't had the baby yet. I'm not due for 6 or 7 more weeks.

But right away I knew. THIS was going to become his next favorite joke. So for the next six weeks, I'll have to endure him asking if I'm still here, or acting surprised to see me around the office. AND IT WILL DRIVE ME INSANE.

Just like this morning. When he said "Still here, huh?" and I twitched, ever so slightly.

Weekend of the Project: #5 The Belly

And of course, the main project! The 9-month project for whom all these other projects are taking place. Here's the belly picture from May.

Shockingly, my belly button is still hanging in there. I thought it was a goner weeks ago. And yet, it's still around! It may not be so much of an "innie" but it' s not quite an "outie" yet, so I'm happy with that. For month 8, that's not too shabby!

Some days I wake up in the morning and feel like The Belly has grown during the night. I have a hard time imagining what the next picture will be like. It might be on panoramic setting.

Weekend of Projects: #4 Dresser

This is as close to seeing the nursery as you'll get for now. This used to be Keith's dresser from high school. It was a natural-looking wood veneer—pretty plain and simple.

I don't remember when it appeared in our house .... I think Keith's parents handed it down to us when we got the house for our guest bedroom. Oh, I take that back. Keith said that we had it a few apartments ago, so apparently it's been around longer than I thought!

To make it fit in with the nursery, Keith painted it white and I added the brown and green accents. It wasn't a very cooperative piece of furniture—Keith needed to do three coats of white before it looked even. I got frustrated because the wee little accents took FOREVER to paint. It was the smallest area we'd painted all weekend, and yet it seemed to take an inordinate amount of time. Probably because, once it was finished, I could put down my paintbrush once and for all!

Of course, having said that, I think another coat might be in order for the colored accents. But I just might get used to how they look now, since the alternative is to open the paint cans again.

Weekend of Projects: #3 Bookshelves

This was really all Keith's and my Dad's project. Therefore it's my favorite project, because these fabulous bookshelves appeared, just like magic!

Ever since we moved into this house, I've wanted bookshelves in the living room, flanking the fireplace in the living room. For a few months now, Keith and Dad have been working on this project—researching the best way to build the bookshelves and measuring and buying materials.

Silly Keith and I; we thought the bookshelves were pretty much done once they were assembled. This weekend he would just be doing some "finishing touches." Oh, our DIY naivete strikes again!

FYI: Staining takes a LONG time. Especially when you need two coats of stain on each bookshelf. Plus on the back (which was attached after the staining process). And on the trim pieces. So just keep that in mind.

But as you can tell from the pictures, the final results were absolutely worth the (Keith and Dad's) time. I think they're great! I can't wait to fill them with all of my impressive literature books from college. I'll have to dust the books off first, though.

Weekend of the Project: #2 Garden

This is a picture of a project in process, because it didn't occur to me to get an After photo. We got 5 bags of mulch and a few plants to make the front garden beds look a little less pathetic.

This project involved weeding, which for me is a game of "Is this a weed or a plant?" After weeding, I planted a few myrtle starter plants, since I'm trying to get ground cover started to compete with the weeds. Maybe, about 5 years from now, the myrtle will be winning and I'll have a little less weeding to do.

I also planted a container that looks very cute on the front step. It almost looks like our yard isn't completely hopeless! There's still plenty of room for improvement—and I mean room. There's not a whole lot of plants and large spaces for the weeds to grow in-between. So, as with the myrtle, my plan is to take the long-term view. Take out a few weeds and put in a few more perennial plants every year, and eventually we'll improve the weed-to-plant ratio to an acceptable level.

Weekend of the Project: #1 Necklaces

I can't believe it, but we actually survived our project-filled weekend. This week will be posts of some of the projects we completed over the weekend. Unfortunately for you, you won't see pictures of the finished nursery quite yet. It is completely painted and it looks AMAZING. We're both so pleased with how it turned out and I'm looking forward to showing it off. But we are hoping to show it to a few people in person first, so the Big Reveal will have to wait.

In the meantime, here's the easiest project of the weekend. I've been meaning to do this for quite a while; my jewelry box just isn't big enough to fit all of my necklaces. I toyed with the idea of getting fancy decorative hooks to hang my necklaces, but in the end I decided it was more important to have something that went easily on and off the wall than something very decorative.

After a quick trip to the store, this project was finished in about 15 minutes. If only they were all that easy!

The Pain of Childbirth Classes

"What's the first word that comes to mind when you think about labor and childbirth?"

This was the ice-breaker question for our childbirth classes. As ice-breakers go, I didn't think it was too bad. It wasn't too personal, but it's obviously something that was already on all of our minds! The first woman said "Pain." Ding! Ding! Ding! I felt like, if we were on the Family Feud, the survey would have said she was absolutely correct.

Her husband said it was a process, which was a bit more clinical, but still apt. I suggested "endurance" because Keith had just finished the marathon and I'd been joking about how we both had endurance events this year—the only difference being that Keith trained for months to prepare for his, and mine will probably last 5 times longer.

Most of the answers were pretty predictable; only one answer really stuck out to me because I had instantly disliked the woman who said it, and her answer reaffirmed my initial impression.

"Natural," she had shrugged when it was her turn to answer. "Childbirth is completely natural and women have been doing it for thousands of years." It just seemed like such a snide, self-righteous comment to me. Yes, we all know that we are not the first ones to do this. Or the last. But that doesn't mean that I can't/shouldn't be frightened and apprehensive about squeezing out an 8-pound baby! We're not really talking about the natural process of childbirth—this class is about ME and what can I expect in a few months and how do I prepare for it.

When class re-convened the following week, the instructor asked us to tell one thing that we had learned the week before. Most of us talked about specific parts of labor that we hadn't been aware of, or pain management techniques. Our snide classmate?

"Last week I learned that I already knew even more about childbirth than I had realized!"

So all of that information may have been news to us uneducated masses, but SHE knew better.
I suppose it's probably wrong that I wish her an incredibly long and painful labor, isn't it?

Hapless DIY-ers

Last weekend, we went to Home Depot to purchase all of the materials needed to paint the nursery.

In theory, it's not that hard. Just pick out a few cans of paint, right? And yet, somehow, we were there for nearly three hours. THREE LONG, PAINFUL HOURS.

A big part of the problem is that we don't really know what we're doing. And we don't pick simple projects. Actually, those two issues together pretty much sum up the problem in its entirety.

For example, we can't just paint the nursery one color. Oh no! I saw a cute picture in a magazine where the bottom two-thirds of the wall was one color, separated from a different color on the top one-third by a trim board. It was adorable! But much more complicated that just slapping some paint on the wall.

Even before getting to Home Depot, it required significantly more detailed measuring of the room, since we were buying several paint colors. It will also require leveling abilities when we hang the trim boards.

And how do we hang the trim boards, exactly? With our old plaster walls, Keith isn't a big fan of putting in a lot of nail holes. But can we get away with gluing the boards? This gets to the second part of the problem: we're both pretty new at all of this house maintenance/decorating stuff, and we don't know the best way to do things. We don't know any way to do things, really. We're just kinda making it up as we go along, and that takes a lot of brain power. Especially considering that it usually means the plan changes at least once during implementation, because there's a kink we'd failed to factor in during the "planning/making it up" stage.

By the end of our Home Depot trip, I was physically and mentally exhausted. I hung around the cash registers, waiting for Keith to pick up one more thing that we'd missed in our first five rounds of the store. When he finally returned to the front, he told me I looked defeated. I thought it was a pretty accurate description.

If the painting this weekend goes well, maybe there will be pictures to post next week. If you don't ever see pictures of the nursery .... well, don't ask. Just assume we've decided to take a break from DIY house projects.

Baby Shower

The nursery is starting to fill up! I had my work baby shower last week, and then my Cleveland baby shower was yesterday. The final baby shower in Cincinnati is a few weeks ago, which is good because it gives us some time to figure out where to put everything we've already gotten before more presents arrive.

The only other experience I can compare a baby shower to is our wedding showers from a few years ago. I wasn't a big fan of the wedding shower. I mean, I'm not complaining about people getting together to give me gifts. But it felt sort of awkward, with all of the focus on me. I felt on display, and I wasn't really sure how to properly display my appreciation for a Crockpot or laundry hamper.

But I thought, overall the baby showers were a lot more fun. There were two things about it that really stuck out to me as different from a wedding shower. First, as I've discussed with several friends, registering for baby items is really hard work.

When you're registering for a wedding, you basically know what you need as a functioning adult. But what does a baby need?!? I had no idea. And there are so many products out there to choose from. Every time we tried to register, Keith and I would only make it through a few items before our brains were friend and we'd give up. It was rough.

But what's great about the baby shower is that people give you things both on and off your registry that they think you'll need or like. There's so many gifts that people gave me that they could personally recommend, and I really enjoyed getting the gifts AND the recommendations. It helps me feel a little more prepared, and like I may have a clue as to what I'm doing.

I also enjoyed that we got a LOT of books for the baby. Reading is a huge part of our lives, and something that I can't wait to share with my children. So, in my case, getting books that my friends and family have personally cherished and want Little L to enjoy meant a lot. Some of the books I've heard of before, but most of them I haven't. I'm looking forward to reading them to Little L both before and after he/she is born.

Bump Inferiority

Pregnancy-related activities are heating up. My doctor's appointments are starting to be closer together. We're taking childbirth classes this month. And a few nights ago we took our prenatal tour at the hospital where I'll be giving birth.*

It's very interesting to be surrounded by other pregnant women. The tour started with a talk in an amphitheatre. Of course, once we sat down I started checking out all of the other moms-to-be. Is her bump bigger than me? Am I waddling more than she is?

I came to the conclusion that everyone else had put off the tour a lot longer than we did, because they all seemed hugely pregnant. My bump looked so small! Or do I just think that because I've gotten used to my bump, and it doesn't seem so big anymore?

I did experience some minor feelings of bump inferiority, but I got over it when I realized that the majority of pregnant women on the tour had foregone shoes that laced up. I'm at the end of my 7th month, and so far I'm still making the effort to bend over and tie shoelaces. It may not always be easy, but I'm still doing it!


* I took a break here for about 5 minutes of breathing into a paper bag.

Little L: Month 7

We've made it to the third trimester. Like, third of three. This is it!

My 7-month check-up was actually a few weeks ago, but it took me awhile to post about it because I had a bit of scare that required further follow-up. I had my glucose test to make sure I don't have gestational diabetes, since it does sometimes happen that women who aren't normally diabetic can become so during pregnancy. On the plus side, this condition can be treated through diet and medication. But on the downside, it does put the mother and baby at a higher risk for Type II diabetes later in life.

I wasn't phased by the test. No one in my family is diabetic, and I've had a very easy pregnancy so far. So I was that much more shocked/dismayed/worried when I got the call from the doctor's office the next day that my sugar levels were high in the initial test, and I had to come back in for a longer test. The following Monday, I was back in the lab bright and early, on an empty stomach, to drink more glucose drink and get my blood drawn every hour for 4 hours.

Between the drink, lack of food, and nerves, I was sick by the time I got home at mid-afternoon. I ate lunch, called into work, and slept for the rest of the afternoon. I thought about all the pop I've drank and Oreos I've eaten over the past seven months, and wondered about what I would be like as a diabetic.

The next morning, I got the call from the doctor's office saying my latest test results were normal, and I did NOT have gestational diabetes. Once the experience was all over, I convinced myself that it was actually good for me (since the final results were negative).

1. Drinking less Coke and and eating fewer Oreos can only be good for me and Little L.
2. It was a reminder that, although my pregnancy has gone really smoothly so far, there's still a lot that's out of my control. I need to be aware of that, and also grateful for the good fortune I've had so far.
3. At the end of the pregnancy, there's still the labor and birth to go, and that whole experience can be so unpredictable. So I need to learn to go with the flow and trust my doctor's advice, even in a less-than-ideal situation.

But the final verdict is: So far, so good. Little L is growing well and sounding great. He/she moves around a lot now, and Keith can hear the heartbeat when he lays his head on my large (and growing bigger daily) belly. As always, I'll keep trying to eat healthy, get some exercise, and enjoy the last trimester!

Didn't See That Coming

"I should wear more black eyeliner and mascara."

--Aloud musing from my husband, as we watched part of a Greenday concert on TV.

Congrats to Keith!

Keith is officially a Marathoner. He finished the Flying Pig Marathon yesterday in 4 hours, 8 minutes. His original goal was to finish in under 4 hours, but 26.2 miles is a long time for everything to go your way, and his calf muscles started cramping at the end.

It was a great day to spectate. A little chilly at first, when we arrived at spectator point #1 at 6:30am. The race started about 15 minutes late due to a house fire on the course.
But once the race started, it ran smoothly, and the day warmed up quickly as the sun came out.

I joked with Keith beforehand that he was wearing his "anonymous runner" costume because he wore a long-sleeved, white shirt with gray shorts. He didn't exactly make it easy to pick him out of the crowd! I had been guilty of missing him last year because I couldn't find him amongst all the runners, and I was worried about missing him again.

I actually got pretty nervous for Keith the morning of the race. Until that point, I had been quietly confident. But once it was really race time, and I couldn't see him or talk to him to find out how he was feeling, I got anxious. Did he feel good? How did the start go? Was he on pace? The few times that we could a glimpse of him at miles 2 and 6.8, he looked good, but that still left a lot of time just wondering how it all was going.

It was such a relief to see him come running toward the finish line. Not hobbling, or being carried, or walking even. I'm so proud of him for not just running the race, but also for training since last December to be prepared for this race. It's just one more sign that he is determined, and passionate, and the most wonderful partner I could ever wish for.

Congratulations, Keith!

Sh@tting on Cloth Diapers

Why does everyone insist of acting like I'm an idiot for saying I'm doing cloth diapers? It's really been ticking me off lately.

It's not really people I know and trust. Which, as I'm discovering, is true about most of the "advice" I'm getting. If it's given from a trusted friends or family members, I appreciate their thoughtful opinions, and I'm glad they've shared their wisdom with me. The problem is from the fringe elements—co-workers that I don't know that well, people I would label as "acquaintances" rather than friends.

These are the people who, maybe because they don't know me as well?, seem eager to criticize my choices. These are the people who don't hesitate to tell me that I'm gaining too much weight, or too little. Or that I shouldn't be drinking caffeine, or sleeping on my back, or whatever else they can think of.

These people also have a united opinion when it comes to cloth diapers, I'm discovering. I wouldn't really say they give "advice" about the subject, because that would imply perhaps some useful instructions. Instead, when they hear "cloth diapers," I just get attitude. A little laugh or an "Oh, really?" and a smirk that clearly indicates they think I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'll learn soon enough that cloth diapers are too messy/inconvenient/expensive/what have you to actually be feasible.

I'm not saying that I'm a complete expert on cloth diapers. But that's just it—I'm not an expert on ANYTHING baby!!! I can just study up, get opinions of people I trust and make the decision that is most in line with my beliefs and values. And to me, choosing the (slight? insurmountable? imagined?) inconvenience of cloth diapers over disposable is important enough to my beliefs about the environment and personal responsibility to still make that choice.

And even though none of YOU, my loyal readers, are the scoffing opinion-foisters, I'll still include a few links about cloth vs. disposable, for your reference:

The Simple Dollar cost-comparison of cloth vs. disposable

"Joy of Cloth Diapers" at Mothering Magazine

"Just the Basics" at Cotton Babies

Experiment: Real Live Baby on the Premises

There was a real, live baby in our house last night. Outside of the womb, I mean. And Keith and I were in charge of it.

For whatever reason, I never babysat much as a kid. Yet I never really doubted that I wanted to have children. I have worked in educational settings, and I know I enjoy children. Children of a certain age, that are old enough to blow their own noses and use the toilet and say amusing things. I don't really have any experience with babies or infants.

But last night, Keith and I babysat my boss's six-month old daughter for a few hours, while she and her husband went to a dinner. She had assured me that her daughter was the perfect "starter baby"—a happy, easygoing child. And it was only for a few hours, right?

And it did go okay. There was a bit of fussing, because Keith and I were too slow on the feeding part of the evening. There were a few gorgeous smiles during playtime, and then a lot of adorable sleeping. It seemed strange, only in that it felt very natural.

It helped that we had already dropped Beckett off at my parents' house for the weekend, so our house was much quieter. It didn't help that, once the baby ate and fell asleep, someone looking for petition signatures rang the doorbell. Rang the doorbell at 9 o'clock! What ridiculous behavior.

I think it was a good introductory experience. I just can't believe how tired I am today. It was a long day yesterday before the baby arrived, but even so .... I need a nap!

It's a Good Decade

Now that I've had some time to think about my birthday and how I've felt about turning 30, I've actually discovered that I'm pretty excited about it!

I've started thinking that I wasn't really meant to be in my 20s. I mean, they were great. I did many memorable, wonderful things. Graduated from college, lived abroad for a year, got my first job/apartment/car, graduated from college again, got married, got a house/dog/cat. I've obviously left off countless experiences, but I think that list covers the biggest ones.

But there's a couple things about my 20s that just didn't quite fit. I'm not big into going out, dancing, drinking ... all those wild and crazy things you're supposed to enjoy doing in your 20s. Like in college—I enjoyed being in college a lot, but I definitely didn't feel like I fit the undergrad stereotype.

However, now I'm in my 30s. And even though it's just my own mental perception, I feel like the 30s suit my personality much better. When I think about what 30s means to me, I feel like your world gets smaller, in a good way. You spent your entire childhood and young adulthood learning new things, trying out new experiences, traveling and learning about yourself and others.

Now, in my 30s, I think that I can take all of that knowledge and apply it back to myself. I think of settling down into a house and starting a family. Focusing on the people closest to me, and really just enjoying where I am in life, and the person I am becoming. Learning to be content with the adult Me. Spending time on my current interests and hobbies, because I don't feel pressured to be the carefree, adventurous young thing that I never really was anyway.

I don't really think of a stereotype for the 30s, and that's so exciting. It's the women from Sex and the City and it's small-town family life. It's settling down or starting a new life on your own terms. It's whatever you want it to be!

I'm looking forward to my 30s. And I think they will live up to my expectations, because my only real expectation is that I make my own choices and try to enjoy life. It's going to be a good decade!

Out of Pocket

Why do maternity pants not have pockets? It's already odd enough that they don't have a zipper or snap or a waist, really. But why do they insist of putting fake pockets on the front? They give the illusion of pockets, with seams to seal up holes that don't exist. That seems to be an awful lot of work for very little return.

Don't pregnant women need to carry things, too?

Thanks to the cereal, it's a boy!

Even though Keith and I don't want to find out the sex of the baby for sure, that doesn't stop us from constantly guessing what it might be.

We both suspect that it will be a boy, not for any specific reason. Strangely enough, we were surprised last week when we tried several of the old wives' tale methods of telling the sex (wedding ring on a string, etc.) and they indicated "girl" more often than "boy." Maybe we really do need to pick a girl's name.

However, my faith in our hunch was restored by an article my friend Amy sent to me today. According to a British study, a diet high in calories, and particularly one that includes cereal for breakfast, leads to a greater likelihood of having a baby boy. When I got pregnant, I was training for the half-marathon. So I was eating a LOT of calories. And I always eat cereal for breakfast. Always.

So maybe we'll paint the nursery blue after all. This seems like a pretty definitive study to me!

Also, because I haven't posted any yet, here's some belly pics. I can't believe how much bigger it's gotten in the past month. I can only imagine what the next picture will look like!

Perhaps I Should Define "Chopped"

Maybe "chopped" is too strong a word for my new hairstyle. Keith chastised me after my last blog entry, because he felt my choice of words was misleading.

It is true that my hair is now the shortest it's been in over ten years. But, to be fair, my hair is usually well past my shoulders. At times, it has stretched halfway down my back. So before when I've gotten it cut, I never really went higher than my shoulders.

Because, as those who know me can attest, my hair is really, really curly. I joke that, to grow my hair out an inch, I actually need to grow it three "straight" inches to account for how much it curls up. So I get really tentative about chopping off an inch or two of hair, because that represents a significant time investment. Plus, the less my hair weighs, the more it curls up.

So what if I expect it to end up at my shoulders, and it ends up at my ears? I honestly have no idea what my hair would look like really short. But I'm afraid of of looking like Little Orphan Annie, with tight ringlets all over my head. I already get accused of being younger than I am, and the last thing I want is to take another 5 years off my appearance.

But I did get it cut short—for me. I probably got at least 6 inches cut off. The picture above was taken last week, of me and my Mom in our fabulous purple outfits. So you can judge for yourself whether my hair is "chopped" or if it makes me look like a teen-aged mother.

Rise and Shine

I really think Spring has arrived! The average temperature is rising, everything is in bloom, and there's people out EVERYWHERE. Working in their gardens, walking their dogs, running, etc.

Keith, Beckett, and I have also become a little less grudging about our morning walks than we have been through the cold, dark winter. For the past couple nights we've slept with the windows open, and we can hear birds chirping before we get up in the morning. By the time the alarm goes off, there is even the beginning of daylight starting to work its way past the dark curtains. When asked if he's ready to go outside, instead of playing dead under the covers, Beckett's hops off the bed, stretches, and heads downstairs. One of us follows closely behind—or sometimes not so closely, hitting snooze one more time if we got to bed too late the night before.

It was my turn to walk the dog this morning. We were out the door by 6:20, and already the world was awake and alight. I wore just cotton pants and a hooded sweatshirt. Really, I probably could have done without the hooded sweatshirt except for one thing: my hair.

A few weeks ago, I got my long, unruly hair chopped off. It's now the shortest it's been in the past 10 years, at least. I did it because I wanted a change, it was getting too heavy, and I just kept putting it back all the time. I fell into the classic trap of, "If I can't put it back, then I'll have to do SOMETHING with it, right?"

Overall, this has worked pretty well. I love the way it looks when it's down, and I do find something to do with it more often than not. But there's still a day or so each week when I'm running late and I would give anything to be able to slap it back into a ponytail without half of it escaping by the time I sit down at my desk.

Plus, another downside of short hair became apparent to me this morning on our walk. Now that it's actually light outside in the morning, people can see my bedhead. Bedhead that had previously been hidden by 1) the darkness, 2) a winter hat, and 3) pulled back and somewhat tamed. But now it's out there in the morning, for every innocent passerby to see.

I suppose, in theory, I could do something to my hair before Beckett and I walk. But that's like saying that world peace is possible. In theory.

So I either need to find some way to tame my hair in 2 seconds before I head out the door, or find a nice, summery hat.

Is It Really That Hard? IT Upgrades

We just recently had some changes done to our server at work. Primarily, our network drive got moved to a much bigger server, and therefore everyone in the office had to be re-mapped to the new server.

Except apparently that's not all that it was, because when the IT guy was done with my desktop it looked different. A lot of my preferences/display options had disappeared. How did that happen?

I would consider myself somewhere between computer literate and technology-disabled. Hopefully more toward the literate end of the scale. I mean, I have a blog, right? Surely that counts for something?

So I'd like to think that I'm at least somewhat savvy about computer upgrades and such. That it's not a complete mystery to me when IT appears and and does something on my computer. And yet ....

Here's what bothered me so much about this transition to the new server:

1. My boss tried to tell them that it would NOT be a good time for us to have any downtime, and we would much prefer to wait until the end of the fiscal year (June). That was ignored.


2. I was slated to be the first person mapped to the new network, because it's imperative that I have access to it. This just turned into me being the guinea pig, so I lost use of my computer AND the network for nearly a whole day while our IT guy found out everything that was wrong with the process while he was trying to get me set up.


3. This process wasn't tested before it was inflicted upon me. Or rather, it sort of was ... at one point, our IT person called the campus help desk about an issue and I heard him say, "This didn't work last week when I tested it. I called and left you guys a message, but I never heard back ..." So in other words he'd started testing it, got far enough to know the process didn't work .... and then just did it anyway.


Plus, there were all sort of smaller issues that were just seriously annoying to fix:

4. An Internet Explorer shortcut showed up on my desktop. I NEVER use IE. And I HATE icons on my desktop.


5. My quicklaunch toolbar, which (sadly) took me months and careful guidance from Keith to discover, yet only minutes to love, had disappeared.


6. My Firefox plug-ins were gone.


7. My outlook set-up preferences were gone (reading pane, don't categorize the inbox messages, etc.) As I said, not earth-shattering, but it still takes me a good deal of searching and trial-and-error to remember how to restore things.


8. What was, to me, the most annoying thing of all, is that he took my left-handed mouse and switched it to right-handed. Physically he moved it to the right-side of the desk, and he also switched the buttons. I understand that many people are perplexed by the left-hand mouse, so that's fine.
   
   But he LEFT it that way. I just think that's rude, don't you?

I'm sure this is one of those perpetual problems. IT/help desks complain about inept users. And the users complain about IT taking too long to respond to complaints or resolve issues. All I know is, the LEAST he could have done is switch my mouse back to being left-handed.

he made my mouse right-handed and LEFT it there, with the buttons switched

Penny for My Thoughts?

In general, I wouldn't call this blog "incendiary." "Meek" or "mild-mannered" might be more appropriate terms. I don't talk politics or religion or morals; I just talk about the minutiae of daily life. And yet ... some issues must be discussed, even if my readers might find them upsetting.

I think you all should know that I'm for abolishing the penny. There! I've admitted it. Sometimes, a person just has to take a stand. And I say, the penny has long outlived its usefulness.

Does anyone remember that episode of The West Wing where they discussed this issue? Some people wanted to do away with the penny, but then everyone in Illinois was going to be upset because Lincoln was getting the shaft, so the idea always stalled out. They quoted all sorts of statistics of how much money is being wasted in America every year because the handling of pennies in retail transactions is more expensive than the financial gain of receiving one cent in payment, if that makes sense.

I just wanted to go on the record and say, with the current state of the economy and quickly-rising prices, I think the penny is silly.

Although ... what would that do to gas prices? Maybe I need to reconsider my stance after all. So much for me being a hardliner!;)

The Name Game

Alright, I think I'm getting to the point where I might be asking your opinions on names, because I really have found anything that absolutely grab me. I'm not against falling in love with one slowly, once we've really gotten to know each other. I think that's more my style, anyway; I'm not a love-at-first-sight type of person.

But anyway, I'm not ready for serious advice quite yet. I just had to share, though, a name that's popped up lately that I find quite amusing. Years ago, Keith and I sometimes played this computer trivia game at my parents' house called "You Don't Know Jack." * When we played together on a team, we made up a team name from both of our names; and thus, we became Keegan.

This past weekend, I saw the name "Keegan" not once, but TWICE on two different TV shows. Once as a man's first name, and once as a woman's surname. How crazy is that?!? I thought it was just a made-up name! My sister said I should consider using it. I do like the way it sounds, but I think I'd have a hard time explaining to little Keegan that she was named after our high score in a 1998 computer trivia game. Although there's worse inspirations for a name, right?

*A game which is, apparently, still around. Who knew?

Two Hearts that Beat as One

A week or so ago, I claimed that I was going to start running again, with the goal of maybe even running a 10k race in early May. I made it clear that finishing time was not a priority—I was just hoping to attempt to maintain a certain level of fitness. Sadly, this is not going to happen.

Last week I checked in with my OB-Gyn. He said I was definitely allowed to keep running; I would just have to keep my average heart rate in the 130s-140s. Now I could do intervals, and let my heart rate get up into the 150s, but then I'd need to really slow down and let it come back down to the 120s to maintain the right average. This, of course, is to keep my heart from working too hard and possibly diverting blood from the baby to other parts of my body. Obviously, this is an important and worthy goal, and I agreed immediately.

Here's the thing, though: That "exercise" heart rate range is REALLY low. I had no idea, because I've never tracked my heart rate before. But just running with a Rate of Perceived Exertion (RPE) of easy effort sends my heart rate soaring into the upper 160s or low 170s. Definitely off-limits!

Again, because I've never measure my heart rate, I also hadn't realized that my resting heart rate during pregnancy can rise 10-20 beats per minute, just because of all the extra blood my heart is pumping. So the upper threshold is lower, and the lower threshold is higher ... leaving me with very little room to raise my heart rate at all without exceeding my doctor's recommendations.

I did try running once within the guidelines, but it just frustrated me more than anything. I could jog easily for maybe 2 minutes, and then I'd have to walk for 5 to get my heart rate back down. It didn't feel like much of a workout, and I got so irritated at how slowly I was going. If I had planned on a walk, it would have been fine. But I wanted to run!

So I think I'm going to have to scrap the running plans and focus on walking and Pilates. I know others may pursue more aggressive exercise plans, but I don't really think I'm comfortable going against the advice of my personal physician. But at least the dog will be happy, to get so many walks!

Little L: Month 6

Okay, I think I'm finally done talking about MY birthday, and am ready to focus again on the upcoming birth of my child.*

Earlier this week, I went to the doctor for my usual monthly check-up. It's funny because it actually has become much more routine, strange as that seems. Even though I'm getting closer to the due date and so much is happening, I feel less nervous now about the doctor visits.

I think it's partly due to the fact that, if I've made it this far and everything looks good, my chances of continuing to have a healthy pregnancy and birth rise dramatically. In contrast, every one of the appointments in the first trimester and beginning of the second trimester was nerve-wracking because I just felt like I had no idea what I might learn—good and bad. I think it's also different now that I can definitely feel the baby kicking, hiccuping, elbowing my bladder out of its way. I get constant feedback that the baby is there and having a great time, so I'm not as reliant on the doctor for reassurance.

So it was a pretty routine visit. I said I felt good, he said everything looks good, and I'll see him again in a month. I said, "Is there anything I should be on the look-out for in the next month?"

He said, "Not really! Just enjoy it because the second trimester is usually the most comfortable time for women."

And of course, that's when I realized that, at my next appointment, it will be the beginning of my third trimester. Third. As in LAST. As in, the baby could possibly be born at any time, and the nursery isn't painted, the crib is in bits and pieces, I've barely started knitting the baby blanket ... we still have no idea what girls' names we like!

So maybe next month the visits will start becoming more of an event, again, and less routine. As each visit means the Big Event is drawing that much closer.

* I took a break here for about 5 minutes of breathing into a paper bag.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I hope you all are enjoying the 30th anniversary of the date of my birth. (Or I guess it would technically be the 29th anniversary celebration?!?) Here it is cold, but very sunny. So I'm happy for the sunshine!

I am at work today, since I have a hard time justifying taking a day off in the middle of the week. Especially after being home sick with a cold on Monday. But I can't say I'm getting much work done, or that I feel *too* guilty about my lack of productivity. I forget things, now that I'm older! And I'm slowing down, too.

Tonight I'm going to go home after work and do NOTHING. I'm going to try my hardest to resist the urge to wash dishes, or throw in a load of laundry. I'm going to lay on the couch with a good book in one hand and a champagne flute of sparkling fruit juice in the other. I will then cover myself in cat treats to make Gomez pay me some attention while Keith and Beckett are out for their walk.

Once Keith gets back, we're going out for dinner (Mexican) and a movie. I'm really looking forward to going on a date with him— we don't do it nearly often enough. I'm even a little giddy, trying to figure out what to wear!

After we get home from the movie, I will NOT check my email. I will still avoid the dirty dishes and piles of laundry. I will NOT do any work for our side business. I will relax, maybe knit a bit more of the baby blanket, and go to be a relaxed, refreshed 30-year-old.