Friday, September 25, 2009

Down there

Yesterday, for some unknown reason, I decided to look up birthing videos and photos. Google was happy to oblige, giving me more content than I could ever view. One thing that became clear to me very quickly (besides the fact that birth is....let's face it...pretty gross. I mean, yadda yadda, special and beautiful, etc - but come on, very very gross too, at least when it's a strangers birth captured by a zoom lens close up on her lady parts) is that NONE of these women any way whatsoever. Not that this was totally shocking, but I thought at least one or two would be rockin' the landing strip, or at LEAST a tidy little triangle. Nope. Full bush, top to bottom, every single one.

So after going through all these photographic treasures, I went straight to twitter:

And I got more responses than I've ever gotten from a tweet before. Most of them were along the lines of "you can't take care of what you can't see", and also different variations on can't bend, can't reach, etc. One person (a dude, no less) said: "It's obvious this is your first pregnancy. :P" Ouch.

Argument 1: I have been taking care of business in that region for over 10 years. I'm not pruning into heart-shapes here. I can keep things pretty tidy without seeing what I'm doing.

Argument 2: If I was going to actually videotape my birth, I think I'd want to clean up the stage.

Argument 3: This is my second pregnancy, thank you very much. And furthermore, when my water broke during my first pregnancy, I took a shower and spent a few minutes shaving legs, armpits, ETC (if ya know what I mean).

Argument 4: I'm out of arguments, but 3 points is pretty weak.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Da Crib

We have completely finished up getting ready for the baby. I'm talking room ready, all furniture in place, clothes in the drawers, bottles washed and put away, half-packed hospital bag in the closet just awaiting the last minute items like toiletries.

This is a little ridiculous because:
a. I still have 6 weeks.
b. Once the baby is home, he is sleeping in our room for the first 6ish weeks.
c. We won't introduce the bottle until the baby is 3-4 weeks old.
d. I am convinced I have just given myself a due date of 2 weeks late by being so prepared.

I don't care because:
a. I will not have the energy to wash and put away baby clothes and blankets when I am 39 weeks pregnant.
b. Maybe I'll want to put him in his room during naps? And plus, this has given Finn a tangible thing to look at in anticipation of his brother's arrival.
c. I will be so happy that all those bottles are washed and put away when it's actually time to use them
d. Okay, I actually do care about this. Baby: Please do not be late. Please.

Pics of the new baby digs. We are stoked at how everything turned out:

Mural painted by my coworkers sister. We were a little afraid it was going to be too "Nightmare Before Christmas" but we are hoping the other colorful aspects in the room counterbalance it. It was inspired by this tree I found, but we wanted to make it a bit more...masculine or something. I made the mobile with felt pieces and sticks from a tree in our yard when the one I wanted from was sold out. Etsy mobile with shipping: $57. My mobile: $4
Magnetic wall art is SO AWESOME. Love this idea, not sure where else you would put something like this other than a baby/child's bedroom.
Scored this glider rocker off Craigslist for the smokin price of $175. The one I wanted at Babies R Us was $600, so I thought this was a steal. I wish I could explain to you the comfort of this chair. I make everyone who enters my house sit on it.

My sis-in-law is supposed to sew a liner for the little diaper basket there...but considering she's the biggest procrastinator of all time, it will probably be a couple of more months before I see anything.
OMG, that crooked picture is making me crazy. I must go home right now and fix it.

That little bird on the table is sooooo cute when it's lit up. A perfect little nightlight and goes with our nature theme perfectly.

Friday, September 4, 2009

32 Weeks

Holy moly, 32 weeks.

I had Finn three weeks early, which means I COULD be having a baby in 5 weeks. FIVE WEEKS.

The room is TOTALLY ready, which prompted my sis in law to say that this probably means that I'll be 2 weeks overdue. I told her I hated her for saying that.

Of course, I'm also in a wedding on October 3, and the bride asks me every 3 days how I'm feeling, if I think that I'll make it past the wedding (oh girl, how I wish I had insight in to that). Maybe the 2 things will balance each other out and I'll have him mid-October.

Fingers crossed.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

56 Days

No, the title of my post isn't a reference to about the number of days it's been since I last blogged - although it's close enough. That's the number of days I have left of this most (hopefully!)

Jake got me a gift certificate for a massage since all I do is complain about my back lately. I went in yesterday and as the gal was getting started, she asked if I had ever heard of integrative massage. I tell her no, and she says "It's to not just the body, but to like....the mind and soul breathing and stuff"....Ohh, well that, great and stuff. I told her I was into it, so off she went. But it seemed like just a normal massage to me. But thanks for the weird intro, massage lady.

So besides my lower back screaming at me from about 3pm on, I've also got my first hemorrhoid, which, how do I describe this little slice of happiness? I'm pretty sure I can't do better than Sundry did on her post, so I'll just direct you over there for a moment.

Another awesome "symptom"? Rage. I'm not kidding you. I was bordering on homicidal for a good two hours at work yesterday. This morning I literally had to reason with myself to not hit another coworker in her face. Her fat-annoying face. Her fat-annoying-won't-follow-policy-or-procedure-because-she-is-too-fucking-self-important-and-has-1000-excuses face. *Deep breath*

To top all of these fabulous things off, I've been dealing with two THINGS. First thing: Serious sleep regression. I'm talking a sleep regression of epic proportions. Let me be specific here:

Scene, 4 weeks ago: It's 7:30 pm, the sun is setting, my little boy smells sweetly of lavender, fresh from his bath. I bury my nose in his hair as we hug and kiss goodnight. I lay him in his bed, he rolls over, muttering "I love you mommy." I walk out of the room and enjoy 2 hours to myself before going to bed at the reasonable hour of 9:30.

Scene, 3 weeks and 6 days ago - 4 days ago: It's 8:30 pm and I have FINALLY managed to force him through a tenuous bedtime routine in which he has come up with 65 excuses to delay along the way. I lay him down in bed as he is asking for water, for hugs, for snuggles, to sit on the potty, to blow his nose, for that one car he played with that one time 7 months ago that is in one of his 6 toy bins downstairs and can he have it pleeaaaaassseeeeeeeee or he'll JUST DIE. I say no no no no no no, goodnight.....and then spend the next 2 hours putting him back in bed repeatedly. Sometimes I get all the way out of the room and manage to sit on the stairs before he hops out of bed again, sometimes I've barely turned around before he slides out of bed. Sometimes he is screaming, sometimes he is whining, sometimes he is eerily silent. He finally gives up a few minutes before 11 and I fall, exhausted, into bed. Only to wake up at 11:30 because he's SCREAMING that there is a monster at his window. A monster? Where the hell did you learn about monsters?

Anyway, we have finally conquered this excuse-making/boundary-pushing beast and we are all sleeping through the night and getting to bed at reasonable hours. But holy hell, was that painful.

The second thing I've been dealing with is similar to my very cranky toddler - my bi-polar moody boss, who has all of a sudden decided to turn my maternity leave request into some kind of weird-o power play. I was hoping to take off 10 weeks, but since we are a very small company and not governed until the laws of FMLA, he is making me beg and plead for it...and I may only get 6 weeks off in the end. This has come as a very unexpected and disappointing surprise, as they were very kind and flexible when I had my first kiddo. Have a mentioned I've been there for nearly 5 years? And work my little preggo arse off? Doesn't seem to matter.

I ease all of this drama by laying a hand on my bulging belly, to my little growing baby boy (who remains nameless because of my crazy picky husband who dislikes every perfectly acceptable name I've thrown at him, but then suggests things like "Thor") and realize that this is all going to be worth it in the end.