bee-spot

Going through the big D and I do mean Dallas

2011-07-18T22:37:00.000-04:00

Well, Henry went on his first trip as an outside baby beyond the OKC metro area. To Texas. I'm not proud of the destination of his first excursion, but he had to make a break for it at some point. I joke. Dallas is kinda awesome when you've been holed up in the OK for the last nine months (the last time H was in Texas, he was in Austin). Margaritas were consumed, night swimming took place, pedicures at Bliss were had, the Dallas skyline observed from the rooftop pool of the W, browsing through Neiman happened, lunching at Central Market (without buying $500 worth of groceries - personal victory) and little H learned he loves guitar. A good time had by all, all being me, H, Lacey, her bro, his wife and their parents. Thanks to the big D. Also, I learned that I can travel with a baby. Well, one that's 17 weeks old (tear, I can't believe he's so grown up) and with three other people to help. Now, if I could only find a million dollars and we could go on a real vacay... but until then, this weekend was pretty great!

P.S. I am an awesome mom and forgot to take any pictures of our adventure. Yes.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Kidz muzak.

2011-07-11T10:18:00.002-04:00

Baby H has been exposed to a lot of music since conception. A lot. K and I have music on all the time. Impromptu Pat Benetar dance parties? Check. Blasting Rick Ross at unreasonable volumes in the car while rapping along like insane people? Check. Steady diet of all things indie via my old Noho radio station (WRSI - The River) at work? Check. Kid friendly music? Not so much. So, this weekend, I braved the forums and came up with a couple things that I'll be playing for Hank in the coming weeks.

1) Really Rosie: Not actually something new, but something my elementary school music teacher taught every year. I love it. Still. What could be better than the combo of Carol King and Maurice Sendak? Nothing. Also, it's a wonderful story with valuable lessons. Kid music gold.

2) You Are My Little Bird - Elizabeth Mitchell: Looks like she's been on the kids music scene for a bit now, with several sweet albums. I played most of this for H last night and he was absolutely enthralled, especially enjoying "Eliza Jane" - well, as much as a fourth month old (that's right, he's four months/16 weeks today - please make time slow down, please?) can enjoy anything. So far, thumbs up on this one.

3) Original Friend - Lunch Money: I remembered hearing this group on NPR at some point and decided to give it a download. Haven't listened all the way through yet, but so far, it's a winner. Clever, not cloying. Hip, but not hipster.

We'll see how the bambino likes these as his surely excellent musical taste continues to develop.

Welcome to my home*

2011-07-10T23:12:00.000-04:00

*Brenda Dickson reference.

When we learned that little H was on the way, we were obviously unprepared. I spent the first couple of months (not of my pregnancy, when I learned of my pregnancy, which was four months in - I KNOW!) in shock, unable to really do anything aside from be in constant shock and disbelief in spite of seeing his wiggly little body on the big screen. Eventually, I got my shit somewhat together and got to think about where the little stinker would reside when he arrived. We have two extra bedrooms, one just off the living room and one teeny, tiny, itsy bitsy room closer to ours. We decided to make the wee room for the wee one since it was closer and so that when he was wailing, we could still hang out in the living room. We're thoughtful like that.

With the decision of where the babe would sleep made, I then turned my focus on how the fuck we would make the room habitable for a tiny dude. Our nursery budget? $0. Seriously. As previously mentioned, I'm the breadwinner and I don't make much. So, in an attempt at being responsible for our offspring, I couldn't go balls out when it came to decorating as I normally would. This actually turned out ok, I think. See below:

We weren't going to paint the walls, that would've just put me over the edge, and I wasn't interested in a babyish theme that would dominate the small space, so instead, I opted for a mish-mash of bright colors that were at once playful and grown up, gender neutral and not matchy matchy. The little wooden hutch was in my room growing up and was in my closet in my parent's house until I hauled it across town to hold H's little collection of handmade toys and books. I'm all about home made stuff for the kiddo when I can. On the shelf, he's got soft blocks (thanks M5K!), a robot pillow, bear made from quilt pieces, wooden toys and then some books, some mushrooms and a pictures frame that remains blank until I get my ass in gear and professionally document the kid. Cost? $30 for the robot pillow and mushrooms, everything else was gifted and thrifted.

K's mom graciously offered to purchase the crib for us and suggested a convertible model that would carry H through the years. In an act surely induced by pregnancy insanity, I gave K the job of selecting the crib. Know what? I think he did a really good job. I registered for the Dwell Studio for Target rockets bedding set, which my grandmother purchased. I thought it was boyish without hitting you over the head. It came with a bumper and comforter, but those aren't safe for H yet. In the crib he's got a group of his very favorite things: sleep sheep, musical glowing seahorse, dinos and ugly doll. On the wall, I strung up a few things that were colorful and special to me in lieu of expensive prints. I included an ultrasound pic (this was creepy to me at first, but I ended up being really comforted but his little face in the images), pics of my mom and dad and me when I was a baby, the invite for my shower, my mantra, darling letter prints for K and me, a string of elephants given to me sometime (can't remember) and a tile that was given to me as a gift for an internship I did at Smith. The mobile is a flensted and the curtains are a work in progress.

The rocking chair was the same that my mom rocked my brother and me in. The beautiful elephant blanket given to use by some friends. The airplane lamp was K's when he was a kid. The nighstand is an old stool. The prints on the wall I picked up from Zulily for super cheap. The box fan is integral to H sleeping. The utility shelves were a last minute Wal-Mart purchase when I realized I was not driving my pregnant ass down to Ikea to get proper shelves and other storage. But, I think they work great to hold some cheapo basket from Ross that hold H's burp rags, diapers, nursing supplies and other necessities. We got the changing table from Craigslist one night for $25. I'd wanted a dresser from Ikea that he could grow with, but this was cheaper and I think we can remove the rails along the top and repaint when he gets older. Not pictures is the ottoman for the rocker, or rather, a wicker basket I found in our house that had a lid that I covered with a crocheted blanket given to us. Works just fine.

Like the other side of the wall, I used twine and clothespins to hand a few things to entertain H while on the changing table. Tiny clothing, sweet cards and pics of K with his dad (who passed away) and me with my mom (who has the same hairstyle today). This was really the only way to get art up on the walls that I could afford. Frames are expensive, yo!

Here's H during the photo shoot (you can see the ever present swing - it's seriously the best thing ever invented). He looks like a super chunk in this, but he's still actually kinda normal sized for going on four months. He's got some thighs and some arms, but they still fit through his clothes, so we're all good for now.

So, there you go. The entire nursery was probably thrown together for less than $200 over the course of five months. Not to bad with not much.

being and adult is hard and crap

2011-07-08T21:56:00.000-04:00

This "blog" often becomes a cesspool of whinery and I'm not proud of that. The two things I was most often reprimanded for growing up were whining and arguing. Many a spanking and later groundings were had due to the combo. But I like them both so very much. Sometimes, I get so wrapped up in how I'm constantly being wronged, overlooked, left out, judged, ignored that I forget how good things are or that mine is often a common experience. Being the financially responsible party in my tiny family is super stressful and then some. I was so relieved to read an account that mirrored a lot of my feelings, the not so nice ones and the eventual optimistic ones.

When you're the breadwinner in the family from Sweetfineday

So, here's to remembering that the present will not necessarily be my future and that the past is not the present. Or something like that. Time to stop being such a bitch. The last thing I need is little H getting in trouble in first grade for excessive use of sarcasm. Like I did. My poor mom and dad.

See, look. I'm already not making fun of this lame-o picture. Go me!

Guess what will happen in one month and a day?

2011-07-04T23:17:00.000-04:00

I will turn old balls. Or 30. Yes, after bitching about it for years, it's actually happening. Fortunately, I can cross one of my before 30 life goals off the list, being an unmarried single mother. Woot! I did want to have a baby when it was probably healthier for me, so I'm glad I got babe #1 knocked out before the big 3-0. Other than that... well, I have an adult job. For now. And adult debt. So there's that. And now, for the gifties. Again, K is not a holiday/birthday person, so I won't be getting anything from him and I think when you're 30 and have your own offspring your parents can cut you off and since I'm poor, this will be a lean, mean (read nonexistent) dirty 30. But that's ok. Instead, I will daydream aloud...

Dyson vacuum - yes, when you get old, you want boring shit for your house.

Duvet cover - same one, but now $49! I might actually go for this...

Tom's coral canvas wedges - don't know why, but I'm digging these. I imagine them with striped shirts, skinny jeans and statement necklaces, none of which I should be wearing.

New pillows for the eyesore of a sectional that lives in my living room - I can't get rid of the couch due to budget restraints (more accurately, K loves the thing), but I could replace the sad pillows from years ago with brighter ones that make more sense with my undecor.

Nursing friendly dress - I don't foresee the pumping ending anytime soon, so my wardrobe has been severely altered. This little number would conceal the lopsided boobage and allow for access.

A night in luxury - silly, as this is fleeting, but the idea of a well appointed bed, room service potential, within walking distance of an excellent bar that serves well mixed Hendricks and tonics... heaven. The problem is I'd still have to pump all night and/or miss H too much to actually enjoy. (They have cribs!)

Lululemon Groove pants - yup, I still want them. And also the Bliss tank. Could hold in the girls and cover the flab. Win.

Jo Malone Orange Blossom Cologne - I'm obsessed with smelling good, but I kind of always smell bad. Perfume just doesn't stick to me. Also, now I smell like maple syrup thanks to the fenugreek I guzzle by the handful to boost milk supply. Marry me!

Ittikid wardrobe for H-man - love.these.prints. H needs them all. Especially the elephants.

KitchenAid Pro Mixer - yeah, I still need this.

Aveda spa treatments - nothing really removes the telltale sign of being a new mom (stringy, clumpy hair; sad, sunken eyes; terrible wardrobe choices; wan, sallow skin; I could go on), but getting some help from professionals would be nice.

So, there's my super selfish, completely unrealistic wishlist for the beginning of my downhill slide. But really, I've got my healthy tiny buddy, my needy stinky puppy, my partner in crime (sometimes literally), my fam and friends, so, it's all good.

Oh, hey there.

2011-07-03T21:12:00.000-04:00

Guess what. It's been over a month since I last posted. That's what happens when you spend all of your free time trying to devise a way to escape your baby's farts. But seriously, he has the farts of a frat bro who ponged it up on Natty for 48 hours straight. No, but seriously, I have zero energy to do anything but complain about H's farts and occasionally tend to him so blogging is not at the top of my list.

Actually, H man is doing great, growing like crazy (way too fast), pre-laughing, holding his head up longer and longer, grasping, batting, sleeping through every third night or so, it's pretty great! What's not great is that I'm not adjusting to work well (it's super hard to concentrate when all I want to do is spend my time with the bambino and when I try to concentrate, my brain breaks down because it's been functioning on maybe two three to four hours spurts of sleep going on four months) and breastfeeding is fricking ruling my life (taking herbs, drinking tea, eating oatmeal, pumping every three hours, suffering boobs that are two completely different sizes, thus really restricting my wardrobe because I'll be damned if someone points out my exaggerated lopsidedness).

Things that are making me happy include, but are not limited to the following:

Henry

watermelon
Pabst
Pinterest - 100% addicted
mom blog All things Alishan (she writes my brain)
our new, old car (2000 white Subaru Outback - holla!)
my new Frye sandals I found for suuuuuper cheap

Saturday mornings at the farmers' market with H
Hopefully what are the closing argument for the Casey Anthony trial. Get off my tv.
Reliving awesome 90s music - behold:

And you better believe I tried to recreate those outfits. Puffy shirts and all.

You have not lived

2011-05-17T22:21:00.000-04:00

until you spill the hard earned 10 ounces of breast milk you pumped in your car at a conference in Tulsa today all over your kitchen floor in an attempt to transfer from collection bottle to freezer bag, then collapse to the floor in tears watching your hard work (not to mention missed presentations as you were in your car hooked up for all the grounds workers to see) spread across your sloped tile, only to be non-comforted by your babydaddy who suggests that next time you should be more careful. Seriously, it's the best.

Breastfeeding is great and all that shit, I know, but it is hard work, at least for me. Pumping is a part-time job - storage, clean up, sterilization of parts, toting pump to and fro, timing, wrist fatigue from holding the damn things, nipple wreckage, labeling, organizing, watching it go to waste when someone feeds six ounces instead of four (he doesn't need that much yet!!!). Dudes, it's liquid gold and just as hard to mine. There's been oversupply, undersupply interruption of supply, changes in medications, severe engorgement, soaking through clothing, probable mastitis, drinking of disgusting lactation promotion tea and liter upon liter of water. And the best thing is, your supply is negatively impacted when you're stressed. HOW CAN YOU NOT BE EFFING STRESSED!? You just had a baby shoot out of you, you function on zero sleep, you go back to work and now you have to be relaxed so that you can successfully pump and feed? Blergh. My boobs need a vacation and it's only month two. It's going to be a long road to 12 months.

But, this is why I do it:

Also, fear of social ostracizing. No, really it's money saving. Formula is expensive, yo!

Tips for new moms returning to work.

2011-05-12T12:55:00.000-04:00

1. Don't.

Memba this? Baby Boom! Diane Keaton is still wearing that suit, but now with gloves.

Chin up

2011-05-09T10:21:00.003-04:00

In spite of yesterday's letdown, I'm resolved to quit being a turd and get over it. I'm very lucky in so many ways.

via Design Crush

First Mother's Day...

2011-05-08T18:31:00.000-04:00

Brunch and gifts for my mom, early dinner and gifts for K's mom, and for me on this first Mom's Day? Texts and gifts from friends and family (thank you!!), but not a peep from K. I try to understand his perspective on commercially manufactured holidays, I do, but it doesn't mean I like it and don't feel completely left out. I'll never have another initial Mother's Day. Sadcakes.

Oh, right, I do have a super cute little kid, though. Hi Henry!

In advance of Mom day

2011-05-05T18:46:00.000-04:00

Bwahahaha. Oh Mom. This was taken in 2007, at least 14 years after fanny packs were acceptable (in Europe).

Fanny pack or mini backpack, she's my mom and I love her. It's weird now having my own offspring. It's probably impossible for H to ever understand just how much work and sacrifice this has been even in just six short weeks (plus nine months), but he probably will once he has his own kiddo. I know I do. Actually, he probably won't get it because he's a dude and won't ever have a construction zone for a hoo ha or destroyed nips and hips, but you know what I mean. Anyway, thanks Mom.

Momtrocity #2 (of a million)

2011-05-03T23:16:00.000-04:00

The thing is, somewhere between birth and age 22, I lost my imagination. Poof. Gone. I don't dance unless very inebriated, I don't make silly faces, I don't woop at sporting events. I sit quietly and mind my business. I don't DIY stuff around my house. I don't sing along to the radio when others are in the car. I don't sing aloud in public at all (again, unless inebriated). I don't scream or make loud noises. 1000% boring. And now I have a kiddo who will need to be entertained in ways that don't involve my inebriation. Have you read kinderpendent? Or stopped by SouleMama? I'm effed! No way will my sad little brain ever conjure up the creative schemes it should to make sure baby H develops into the genius he should. Just today I had to read a post on babycenter to learn how to play with a newborn. (and it's taken me six weeks to do this...). A typical day means me trying to keep him alive, let alone happy and stimulated. Mama fail.

So you popped out a kid, now what?

2011-05-01T13:25:00.000-04:00

Well, I'll tell you. Mayhem. Absolute and utter mayhem. To your lady biz and your sanity. Here's what you should know if you ever plan to have a kid (ha, plan) or if you know someone about to expel one from her uterus.

So, Henry's been born and our families flood in to hold him, etc while K and I are still in shock and I'm covered in vernix and meconium It's not a good look for anyone. I read that you're supposed to try to nurse and get some skin to skin action almost immediately, but there's no way this is happening in this loud, bright room with tons of people and I'm ok with that. I still need a few minutes to process.

(Oh, forgot to mention something. My doctor who delivered Henry also delivered me. I've been seeing her since I was 16 and she was so kind and understanding throughout this whole ordeal considering how freaked I was. When she was done fixing me up, she went over to the warmer to check H over and kept saying how beautiful he was (I think so too) and decided that she needed to wash his hair before our families came in so he would look his best for them (my mom is still her patient too). She took him over to the sink and lovingly washed his hair while my nurse readied me for guests (e.g. put the closed sign over my hoo ha). My nurse and the nursery scrub tech person both came over and said they'd never seen her do that before. I felt kinda special.)

Right, so everyone streams in and there are tears (not mine) and lots of photos, then one by one people head out leaving me, K, Lacey and my nurse. H is swept away to the nursery (I think - hard to remember now) for his once over by that group. Now starts the dirty work. The nurse has to press on my abdomen repeatedly to make sure my uterus is already shrinking and to push out any clots (bodies are amazing, I tell you). It's incredibly painful. Like take your breath away painful. Like I haven't just been through enough and now you gotta do this? And remove the catheter? And pack my hoo ha with ice? Yay! Next, once she's satisfied with all that, it's time to get up and head for the bathroom to learn my new routine before being wheeled upstairs to my postpartum room. I've been on my back for, what, 15 hours or so not counting my time in triage? Ugh. Also, I just had a baby. Double ugh. I'd read about the mesh undies and the super pads and now I was confronted with them in real life. I was afraid to even ask what had happened down there, so I just listened as she went through the supplies (squirt bottle with warm water, witch hazel pads, Dermoplast, two of the biggest pads you've ever seen and mesh underwear) and told me what to do: squirt, wipe, spray and load the mesh with the pads every time I got for like, you know, two weeks. Awesome! Because I'll have so much free time to hang out in the bathroom.

Your new best friend, the sitz bath.

K and L grab our stuff and I'm wheeled up (no way I was walking, no way) up to the room where we'd be staying for the next couple of days. It's then that I realize I am fucking starving. Like beyond ravenous. However, I've heard a lot about taking it easy because the number two sitch is brutal. I throw caution to the wind and L goes to Classic 50s (local Sonic like place, but better) and comes back with a buffet of delicious drive-in food. Oh God, it was so good. We all stuffed our faces until I then realized that I hadn't slept since Saturday night and it was Monday night. The nurses gave me something for pain and I asked if they could bring H in only for feedings that night instead of rooming in so I could get some rest. L headed out and then it was just K and I and everything seemed so surreal I couldn't stand it. Had all of that really just happened? I was in the hospital bed and K pulled out the couch bed, but it was too far from me. I made him drag it closer and I buried my head into him across the divide, sobbing. Oh hormones. We drift off to sleep for about five minutes.

Here's what happens. A variety of nurses wake you up all night to perpetrate various indignities (aka just doing their job). Up first is the nursery lady showing me how to feed a very wiggly, still kind of gooey H. We get a good enough latch and he chows down with a vengeance for a bit, leaving my nip a shell of its former self. That's done and he's whisked away where he can be cared for by professionals for at least a couple of nights before he's released into the wild (our house). Next, I am poked and prodded all night long with iron injections, pain pill administrations, blood pressure checks, nurse pushing super hard on my belly and Henry feedings. K sleeps through all of this as I familiarize myself with early morning TV - I'm now a human TV guide from 1 - 5am. There was a special nurse to make sure I had peed, which I hadn't. She came in three times that night to make me try to go, but I couldn't. Finally she gave up and said I had until 9am the next day before we're talking about another catheter. Awesome! Eventually, I feel the urge and hobble to the bathroom. That's when someone knocks and then opens the door. It's my doctor and she's doing her morning rounds - at 6am? Anyway, we have a lovely conversation as she stands in the bathroom door frame and I'm on the toilet. This is when I realize childbirth really puts your life in a whole different category. Your body is no longer yours, but public property.

Our (million dollar) hospital stay continues with visitors, the best shower ever (like the kind after you've been camping/hiking) feedings, nurse visits, little sleep and terrible food except for one night when K went and got Pei Wei, which was orgasmic at the time. Delicious lo mein with tofu... My stitches made things pretty uncomfortable and I had a hard time getting in and out of bed without the aid of some narcotics, then I felt silly for needing them and for being in bed (it's not like I was sick) and would overdo it then end up back in bed in pain because I am smart. Finally, it was time to go home. Hello terrifying, overwhelming fear! But, we put H in some clothes, loaded him in the car seat and off we went. Simple as that. Too simple...

At home, the completely inconvenient, but necessary bathroom routine continues. The sleeplessness continues as we figure out how to handle (literally, this was day three of holding a baby in oh about 20 years). The walking around feeling like I'm in an alternate universe as I stare at the baby gear littering my house continues. The pain continues. The visitors continue. The delivered meals continue. However, my digestive system has been discontinued. I'd gotten a talking to by my nurse before I was discharged about the whole number two biz. Basically, she said it was going to be awful, but it had to happen by day five and it would be ok. The stitches would hold and the hemorrhoids would heal. Yes, these are things they skip over in the pregnancy books. You are pushing something huge out of a tiny space with all of your might very close to your business end. The result is only logical. Ouch. Also, they had pumped me full of iron and percocet. All of this is a mixture for elimination failure. Day five comes and goes in spite of generous doses of Colace (ladies, start taking that now. NOW!) and other stuff, no dice. I can be cool about it now, but seriously, I was beyond miserable. That plus stress of a baby, no sleep, stiches, sore boobs and anything else you can think of just about put me over the edge. It was a unique combo of physical and mental pain that I hope to never experience again. Finally, K's mom, an RN, laid the smack down. She said after each kid, she'd had to, uh, manually get things going. Oh God. Off she went to get rubber gloves and some lube and K poured me some whiskey, my first post-preg drink (not how I imagined it). Fast forward to me feeling human again and never wanting to drink whiskey again.

After one solid week of hell, I was feeling much better in all departments. Six weeks out now, my body is feeling almost back to normal. I'm back to pre-preg weight, back in my old clothes, my hips have kind of pushed back together and my belly skin is slowly returning to its previous state (let's not talk about what that was, though). The moral of the story is, start taking Colace weeks before your due date, explain to your partner that you might be out of commission in the getting out of bed to get the baby department and they need to help with that, use Lanolin every time you nurse and take it easy on yourself. No one's really going to give a shit if there's dog hair on your couch when they come over. They only care about the wee one. So don't break your back and blow out your stitches trying to clean. Trust.

Happy me day!

2011-04-28T10:20:00.001-04:00

This will (obviously) be my first Mother's Day. Due to K's aversion to all things holiday, I will yet again be left out of the commercialized fun and vaguely disappointed (nothing I can do about it). However, I can whip up a fantasy list of gifts I wouldn't mind receiving...

Audrey (you know, I've never owned nor desired a coach item until I saw this, now I covet)

New Balance WW850 (to get my toning on - I need it)

Henry necklace (you know, in case I forget I have him)

Pretty posts (since I fear the days of wearing my favorite ginormous F21 earrings are coming to an end soon)

Duvet cover (I like this one because I don't think you'll really be able to tell how wrinkled it would become with all of it's folds - genius!)

Watch (I have to time everything and digging my phone out of a diaper bag or bottomless purse takes forever)

Tory Burch Reva Flats (classics - I need to start cultivating a collection of classics rather than crapsics that are on sale at Marshall's)

Summer Dress (I've worn out my other Calypso St Barth stuff and need a replacement - well worth the $$)

Le Creuset (oh wait, Shain already got this for me! i needed a way to publicly out him as a nice person in spite of his evil internet persona)

That's all. Not a big list, really. Also, I would settle for an Aveda mani/pedi. Or a healthy, happy baby boy. I suppose that's good enough.

H modeling his recent H&M acquisition shipped all the way from Germany!

Oh Lord, it's only Wednesday.

2011-04-27T15:23:00.001-04:00

Allegedly, I have to return to work soon. Perhaps not. A) no childcare yet - nothing is working out! B) I can't leave him! In the meantime, I will continue my days of random naps, cereal binging, 10am showers, jammie wearing, boob proffering and general slovenliness, which means excessive time spent on the interwebs...

Baby blogs I'm digging:

Babymine
Baby Sauce
Baby Mama Jams

Randomness worth mentioning:

Tom Haverfoods - must be Parks & Rec fan

Kristin Chenoweth pimping the OKC Thunder on Ellen. Rock on little lady. Also, Thunder up! Gotta beat the Nuggets tonight. I got a t-shirt and everything...

SPOILER ALERT - graphic birth details ahead

2011-04-21T11:33:00.000-04:00

So, now that we're a month out from the trauma (and it is absolutely trauma) of the whole birthing thing, I thought I would record what's left of my memory of the event before it's completely erased by lack of sleep and acquisition of new knowledge like finding the perfect BPA free bottle with the best nipple out of the 10,472 choices out there (so far Avent is in the lead). It all began on Sunday, March 20th...

Early evening, K and I went over to my parent's house to watch the Thunder (now in the playoffs, what what!) and as we were noshing on very healthy snacks like potato chips and french onion dip, I felt faintly blechy, which was not unusual (read every single post since November). When we were leaving, I was able to categorize the feelings as somewhat reminiscent of very light menstrual cramps, but didn't think much of it considering the tremendous pressure I'd been having in my lower pelvis for weeks as H had lodged his head pretty far down there and my hips and pelvis were splitting to accommodate. We headed home and I can't remember what else we did that evening, probably my nightly ritual of bath (to soothe said hips and pelvis), donning of old lady nightgown (the most comfortable at that time) and the firing of up of ye olde heating pad before lowering myself into bed at probably 9pm or so. But not before picking out my clothes for work - I was so excited to wear the Tucker for Target dress I'd picked up that weekend (still haven't worn it). I left work on Friday completely convinced that I would be in the office Monday and kind of left a lot for myself to finish up Monday/Tuesday before I was going to give myself a break. I am smart like that.

After lounging about in bed for a bit, I realized that the pesky crampy feelings were becoming more insistent. A bit later, they were painful. It then popped into my head that I have no idea what labor feels like. Great. So, how am I supposed to know? I consult Dr. Oz's book (You Having a Baby) and What to Expect When You're Expecting and they have wildly differing accounts of what a contraction can feel like. Then I think back to what people have told me (and man, do people like to tell you all about their labor and now I know why - it's a feat) and most said that contractions engage your entire abdomen, stretching from top to bottom and around the sides almost to your back. These feelings weren't that. It was an isolated cramp in my very lower abdomen. This worried me. In spite of having a completely normal pregnancy, in the span of three minutes I convinced myself that my placenta was detaching or some other calamity, which was causing the pain. I decided to call my doctor. But wait, my doctor doesn't take late night calls, by now it's 10pm. Instead, you're supposed to go to the ER or the birth center for triage. So, I call my other doctor, Lacey, who had just spent a month in L&D. She asked if I was timing the space between and length of the cramps/possible contractions. Why would I do that, I think, they're not contractions, they're cramps and indicate something is whack. We timed them on the phone. Two minutes apart and about 45-60 seconds in length. I remember from (ridiculous) birth prep class that the rule is 411, which we were clearly ahead of. I hang up with Lacey and try to figure out what to do.

I thought these must be what my contractions will be like, but they're so close together and not yet unbearable painful, I'd hate to go to the hospital and not be dilated at all, have no change, then be sent home. K however, was insistent that we go. What if this is just what my body does? Do I want to have him here? No, I think and get in the shower. Thank God. Because I was to remain unshowered for quite some time and desperately needed to shave my legs. K is becoming more panicked rushing around gathering up what we might need. I'd pretty much prepacked everything, but I'd left out a few odds and ends thinking I'd have at least another week. But, we got our crap together and headed out to the car with everything in tow, including Zeb. We drove across town and dropped Z off at my parent's house. By now it's about midnightish. The hospital's only a couple of minutes from there and we pull up and prepare to get out. I want to leave everything in the car since I'm 75% convinced they're going to send me home, in spite of the contractions being spaced so closely together. K agrees and we start inside. And then it happens. The combo of sprinklers, grassless dirt in the median, my nervousness and recentered center of gravity results in me totally biting it right side down in a pile of mud. Wet, stinky mud. Oh, and in Oklahoma, we literally have red dirt. So, red, stinking, sopping mud. I am covered from head to toe. It's in my hair. It's in my mouth. I am shaken and 100% certain I am not going in that hospital looking a hot mess. NO EFFING WAY. K thinks otherwise. In my nearly first act as a mother, instead of ensuring the health of my unborn child, I make K drive me back to my parents house (against his protesting and my sobbing - also getting the car supremely filthy) and stealthily break into the bathroom to hose myself off. I'm doing a fairly decent job of removing the mud from my clothes and feet (had flip flops on - there's now mud under my toenails - you're welcome doctors and nurses who will have to look at them later!) when I realize two things. 1) The only additional clothes I brought were for lounging about the hospital and were nursing friendly, oh well, and 2) I had gotten mud all over my mom's white carpet and if you know my mom, labor or not, she will not have that shit. So, in my granny panties (more on these later) and bra, I'm on the floor of the bathroom breathing through contractions and cleaning carpet. Basically, living the dream. I finish up, put on the most ridonk outfit ever and run back to the car where K is fuming that this is happening, but I'm cleaner and that's what matters.

We go back to the hospital, I'm checked into triage and change into a gown (which, in spite of our educations, took some work on K and my part to figure out how the damn thing worked). They check me and I'm still at 1 cm, but they do hook me up to a monitor to see what my contraction situation is and to make sure I'm ok after my fall. The contractions are definitely two minutes apart and strong according to the monitor. You can see the other women in triage on screen as well and I was kicking their asses, however, I was not changing, so after an hour, I was told to go home. I knew that was going to happen. They were getting really painful by then and I had this feeling we'd be back soon. The doc on call was satisfied that my fall hadn't done any damage because H's heart rate was ok and there were no other signs of distress. I was given a Lortab and sent on my way. I was disappointed, but also so relieved. Maybe I would go to work tomorrow, get caught up and have this baby when I felt ready, which would be never.

As we drove home, the contractions began to strengthen and were now far worse than any menstrual discomfort I'd felt (which having endometriosis is pretty bad). I'm making audible breathing sounds and whimpering, which I swore I wouldn't do (not sure why, it helps). We get to our house and a barrel into the couch thinking a soft surface rather than hard hospital observation table would decrease the pain. It doesn't. The only thing I can think of to help me hold on until a few hours when there might be a chance I'd dilated further (well, at all, really) was a bath. K ran a bath, I stripped down, plopped in and man, did it help. I was instantly calmer and the warm water really helped with the pain. Also, K and I could see the contractions happening so we could keep timing to have a sense of any progress. Still two minutes apart and 45-60 seconds, give or take. And I think this was the issue. I had been prepared for a long labor progressing through contractions becoming closer and closer together, but having a break in between to prepare for the next until toward the end. This was not that. As soon as one contraction ended, I was able to catch my breath for about thirty seconds then the next would begin. It was awful. Had they been 10 minutes apart, five minutes apart, I think I would've fared differently, but I was already mentally on edge dealing with the near constant pain. I didn't sign up for that! I signed up for half an hour between until I was way more dilated. Stupid nature. However, on the bright side, I was able to get the rest of the mud off of me, except under my nails. Finally, I tell Keaton eff this shit, we're going back, I don't care what they do, I can't handle this because I am more of a baby than my unborn child. So we go.

Back to triage, same routine, wait an hour, no progress, but wait another hour to see since I'd only go home and come back in that time anywhere. After hour two, tiny progress. After hour three, progress! I can be admitted. In the meantime, I have spent three hours in a triage room in labor, continuing to have powerful contractions (each nurse commented on the strength and rapidity) without a comfortable bed, water, pillow, anything. Also, puking. Yay! They move me to a L&D room and begin doing all of that business, which includes signing my life away on a variety of legal forms - I find this really disturbing - I was totally under duress, duh. K goes to get my stuff, I get IV'd, braceleted, poked, stabbed, blood drawn, all kinds of stuff and I'm so out of it (haven't slept in 24 hours now) and don't care what they do if they can make the contractions lessen, but I try to remain upbeat and polite, which was really hard, but I did it! (I could hear other ladies on the floor being total bitches - hey, it's not the nurses' fault you got knocked up, ladies.) I'm asked if I want an epidural and I emphatically say yes and they say they'll call the anesthesiologist who will be here shortly to take care of that. I steel myself to wait patiently. An hour goes by. To me, shortly doesn't mean an hour. Oh well, I'm just slowly dying, no biggie.

Finally, the epidural dude arrives. I hear him say that he's so glad he had a change to hit Starbucks on his way in. I fight the urge to murder him. It's about 6.30am at this point. He does his thing and it doesn't hurt at all - I was kinda worried about that. Roughly 10 minutes later, sweet, sweet relief and numbness washes over me. Thank the Lord. Also, a catheter because in spite of not having had any liquid, I'd had to pee forever and now that was all taken care of. Oh science.

This is where the boring part begins. Me laid up in bed, hooked up to 10,000 tubes and machines watching terrible daytime TV. My contractions march on, still two minutes apart, but now I can no longer feel them. K decides to make the calls to let everyone know that today's the day (or maybe tomorrow since I'm going nowhere quick). My mom texts that she's heading over to relieve K if he needs it. He does. I forget that he's never really seen me in any kind of physical pain before and were I him, I'd be totally freaked out by what I'd just been through. It's awful to watch someone writhe around in pain and not be able to do anything about it. He needed a break and went to get them breakfast. Lesson for birth partners. Do not eat McDonald's b-fast in front of your laboring lady who can't eat and won't be able to eat for hours and hours and hours. TURD.

And so it goes. K takes a four hour nap while mom keeps me company. Lacey will head down from Tulsa in a few hours. Oh, I forgot something. Sunday afternoon, we'd gone to lunch with K and his dad and stepmom. His dad was leaving for Orlando for three days and I promised him there would be no activity on the womb front until after he returned. I am a liar. He was crushed when K called to tell him we were at the hospital since there was no way H was going to be here before his flight left. But he was able to come by and see us for a minute and K's stepmom works at the hospital and was able to pop in all day to give him updates. Of nothing. Because nothing was happening. NOTHING! Right, so at about 9.30, my doctor comes in to break my water. They discover that there's some meconium in the fluid, which is somewhat concerning, but no need to take action. We all resume our positions of doing nothing for hours and hours and hours.

It's now about 4pm and I've dilated to a whopping five centimeters. Not enough. They've upped the pitocin (which I really, really didn't want to have to need) almost to the max, made me rotate positions, and still no action. My third nurse of the day (the others had left their shifts early - what did I do?) breaks it down for me. She suspects that my doctor won't let me labor longer than midnight that night and if I don't make any progress in the next couple of hours, she'll cut me off and we'll go the c-section route because clearly my body just isn't going to get the baby out this way. My cervix just wasn't playing ball. I am terrified. I don't want a c-section for so many reasons (like, cost and I need to get back to work sooner and oh yeah, it's major surgery!). I almost tear up, but she says she wants to try a few things before we get there. Before she comes back I start feeling my contractions again. WHAT? I have an epidural, right? I only feel them in a smallish window, but man, they are rough due to the pitocin. Like ouch city. I call the nurse back in to ask her what's up and she basically blows me off. I don't understand this. She says sometimes you can feel. I say, but isn't the point of an epidural to make you not feel...? Instead of listening to me, she begins rolling up blankets and pillows and contorted me into a really weird position to get my cervix going. She cranks the pitocin to the max and walks out. WHAT? JERK! I'm confined to this super weird position and in a fair amount of pain again. Balls.

She comes back about an hour later and checks me. Six centimeters! I'm getting used to the pain and she does the whole pillow/blanket thing again and tells me not to move. She comes aback in an hour. Nine centimeters. It's baby time. That lady knew what she was doing. I get why she ignored me now. I think I needed stronger contractions to get things going and her odd contortions did the trick. Or so I choose to believe.

This is when shit started getting real. I was shaking all over because in a matter of hours (because pushing can take 20 minutes or four hours, you know, no big deal) I would actually have a baby. No turning back now. The nursery and scrub techs are called in and get the room ready. By now, there are like 10,000 people in my room who are all anxiously awaiting this whole thing. I only want K to stay, which I've made clear from the beginning, but there's still some disappointment among the ladies, but sorry. It's my vagina, my baby and my babydaddy. When they turned the warming table on for the baby, I think my heart stopped. Seriously, this was happening. Oh shit. I had to actually go through with this. Fuck.

Nurse change (again?!) and legs in stirrups (awesome - not) and it's time to push. The nurse gives perfect instructions for what she wants me to do and I do it. Maybe three times. They say that it feel like taking a giant poo, but I wouldn't say that. There's a lot of pressure, but it definitely felt more in my lady business region than my other region. Right, so K's up with me, but fortunately/unfortunately, you can see everything in a reflective ceiling tile, so I pretty much watched the whole thing. I'm glad I was still somewhat drugged up. Ok, so pushing a few times then the nurse says to stop. Ok... We've got to wait for my doctor to finish up her clinic hours and drive across town before we continue. Oh, cool, I think. I'll just wait here with my legs spread and a baby almost falling out for however long that takes. It takes a looooong time. I don't have the urge to push because I can't completely feel the contractions, but I do feel the urge to get this over with (since him staying put forever isn't an option). She shows up and gets down to business. Scrubs on, the nurse and K hold my legs back, I push twice and she throws a wriggly baby at me. That was it. I didn't cry, I didn't do anything, I just smiled, I think. The nurse asked if K wanted to cut the cord and yelled yes, then she asked for our camera (which was my mom's since I'd been pestering K to get ours ready and he kind of never did...) and prepared to snap pics as soon as the kid was cleaned up. Meanwhile, the last part of the whole thing was happening.

H had pooped my uterus (speaking of poo, I was terrified of pooping the table and bugged my nurse about it and she said that since I hadn't eaten in forever and if I hadn't gone already, it wasn't going to happen - relief!), which made the whole delivering of the placenta tougher than normal, maybe. He was ok, they sucked his nose and mouth, but he didn't need any other respiratory help, but my doctor was having a hard time getting everything out of me. My placenta wasn't all in one piece and there were bits of unborn baby poo. She had to work for probably 45 minutes to get that all taken care of, plus stitch me up since she cut me (she's old school). That was just as painful as anything. She literally fisted me and dug around before she sewed me up and after my epidural had worn off. Holy balls that sucked.

And then, she was done and then they gave H back to me. Our families wanted back in, but we asked for a minute or two before the onslaught, mainly so I could remember I needed to look happy and to pull my hair back into a pony tail again so as not to scare everyone. And there we were. The three of us. Super weird. Kind of awesome. Completely exhausting.

Postpartum nonsense some other time. That's honestly the worst part. Don't let anyone forget to warn you about that whole thing before you experience it. Knowledge is power.

Here's what you should be doing today:

2011-04-20T09:48:00.001-04:00

go to your local book store (which in the case of Oklahoma is Barnes and Noble since there are no local bookstores and Borders is on its way out) and buy the Bossypants audio book (or go to iTunes or Amazon like I do for everything because I am exceedingly lazy*). Insert/import and enjoy the ~~dulcet~~ faintly Pennsylvanian tones of T-Fey recounting bits of her life including hi-larious musings on breastfeeding and the kind of poop that goes up a baby's back. You know what I'm talking about.

*I'd like to mention that I'm not suggesting that you get the audio book because I'm even too lazy to read. No, Tina's delivery of her work is critical for maximum enjoyment. Funnypants. Also, when listening to an audio book, you can do other things like rubbing lanolin into your nips, hooking yourself up to your freedom machine (what I call my breast pump), cleaning up aforementioned back poop, eating lunch in 2.5 seconds with one hand, peeing (the only time you spend alone each day, if you're lucky), running your 22nd load of laundry for the day, wrestling a $17 baby toy out of the jaws of your dog, speaking of which...

Read Tina's prayer for her child here. I mean it, read it.

Don't make me turn this car around. Because I will.

2011-04-19T16:55:00.000-04:00

And by car, I mean my quickly growing baby and by because I will I mean I can't. One month old yesterday! I can't believe it. I won't believe it. Time flies when you have no idea what time it really is, what day it is, and which boob was lunch. Don't get me wrong, I want him to grow and all that good stuff, except I don't. I want him to be my teeny, tiny gentleman forever. AND EVER! Instead, he's getting longer, getting heavier, staying awake more, grabbing my fingers, focusing in a little bit when I put my head right near his, filling out his newborn clothes a little better (I think it's only a week or so till we move into the 0-3 month range - no!) and, today, feeding from his first bottle since I'm slated to return to work in two weeks and we've got to get the whole pumping/bottle thing down before I skip out on him (no, I don't feel guilty at all, AT ALL!). Needless to say, I cried as K fed him with a bottle instead of me. H was only too happy to comply, which is great, of course, since there doesn't seem to be a chance for nipple confusion and all that other stuff that Dr. Sears and babycenter.com scared me about, but that only made it worse. He doesn't need me anymore. Just my lactation abilities. Sadness. (And maybe some happiness - I can almost see you, freedom.)

Oh hey. Just some pics of my wee one.

2011-04-14T00:00:00.001-04:00

Yesterday's nap time in a pilfered hospital blanket. Sorry, Norman Regional. On the other hand, I think I earned it/paid for it.

Look at my face. I have total and complete confidence in the people who are purportedly taking care of me. For serious. NOT.

Post bath time happy time.

Momtrocity #1 (of millions)

2011-04-13T17:16:00.000-04:00

So, I thought I was being a sentimental parent and all that crap by succumbing to my desire to get a framed birth announcement print with Henry's stats for his room. Yay me! I ventured onto trusty Etsy to see what was out there and found an adorable template that was affordable. Yay me again! So, I placed my order, convo'd the artist and anxiously awaited the arrival of the announcement - I even got a frame! It arrived and it was perfect. Or so I thought. I showed it to L and she mentioned right off the bat that Henry was actually 20 inches when born, not 21 as was printed. Well, I thought, there must be a mistake (that I didn't make), but after checking the email I'd sent, I had in fact written that H was 21 inches instead of 20. In my defense, he'd gone to his two week check up the day I ordered it and measured 21 inches that day... Also, I'm not getting it reprinted. Henceforth, Henry was 21 inches at birth. Truth.

It looks like this. Adorable, no? If you know someone who needs a birth announcement, this is a winner. Just make sure you know the kid's real stats...

I want, I need.

2011-04-10T12:27:00.000-04:00

I am an expert in coveting. I covet like nobody's business. If I had a phone from this century, I'd create the iCovet app. All of this coveting makes me happy for a second, until I remember I am broke, broke, broke and will never fulfill my insatiable need for all things material. What can I say, I'm a child of the 80s. When attempting to babyfy the room Henry will eventually sleep in, I came across tons of stuff I needed for him, but fortunately (and unfortunately) the space is literally the size of a Ford Fiesta, so I couldn't really fit more than the necessities (I'll post pics of his space soon, I'm still waiting on someone - K - to hang the mobile). However, this didn't stop me from spending tons of time searching for adorables and bookmarking them to torture myself and my debit card. So, today I bring you the Oklahoma themed stuff I need. When I say need, I mean want.

Oklahoma alphabet print - via.

Oklahoma poster - via.

Oklahoma pillow - via.

Oklahoma natural wood teether - via.

Be still, my bank account.

Dear Baby, now known as Henry,

2011-04-08T09:18:00.000-04:00

Thank you so much for allowing a night of reasonable sleep. Dude, you rock. Yeah, it's the first night since you've been around that this has happened, but I'll take it! I didn't wake up feeling hungover (which is so sad since there's still no alcohol in my life) and I somewhat unjumbled thoughts and can almost speak in complete sentences! Yay! Also, since you're blissed out in your carnival ride of a swing (I swear it goes too fast and too high- scary), I'm able to freely peruse the internets on the ol' comp using two hands! Nice. I found this, which will hopefully answer that time old question I ask at least once a week when I feel guilty about all of the take-out we've been shoveling into our faces.

What the fuck should I make for dinner?

In which in spite of my constant bitching, I really enjoyed and kind of miss being knocked up.

2011-04-07T00:01:00.001-04:00

It was kind of over before I even had time to think about it. Since I didn't find out until a wee bit later than your average lady (long story, not going into detail, but needless to say, I was minutes away from being featured on I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, however, in my defense, I had no symptoms and didn't really show at all until mid month seven), it really did fly by too quickly. Just when I was getting good at it, my contractions started and off we went. 24 hours later, no more bump and a baby. Sniffle. One of my biggest regrets is not taking more photos of us. I just didn't think of it by the end of each long day when I'd finally get home and beach myself on the couch, feet up to prevent the dreaded appearance of cankles (which I think I only had for one day or so - not bad!). And now, my body's back to normal. I'm actually down a few pounds from where I was pre-baby. Weird, no? In any case, check out this darling video I saw on Spearmint Baby. Sniffle. I wish I was creative and responsible. Alas, I am run of the mill and lazy. Maybe next time.*

An Incredible Journey Begins from David Stanfield on Vimeo.

*Ahahahaha. Next time. NEVER!

Week 42 Update: Gas Leak Edition*

2011-04-06T13:12:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, we took Henry to his two week check up to see how his stats add up. Good news. He's back up to his birth weight, grew an inch and seems to be in working order. Huge relief. Not that I thought anything was up, but you never know and there's nothing like hearing a medical professional giving you the go ahead to keep doing what you're doing. Not that I know what I'm doing. Luckily, H does. He tells me when to change him, feed him, rock him, swaddle him, etc. He's a champ.

I've been attempting to take a picture a day, but the day flies by so fast, I often forget and only catch H when he's passed out. Seriously, it's like we've got a perpetual gas leak. We all move super slowly and can fall asleep at any given moment, especially Henry and Zeb. It's ridonk.

Look at that belly! I should really stop feeding him so much beer.

I think this was seconds before I picked him up and he'd peed all the way through this adorable little robot number. Oops.

My own little Snuggle fabric softener bear!

Rocket man.

Well, time to go rub some lanolin into my nips. That's my new life. I wish my new life included Bossypants, Tina Fey's book that just came out. I woulda registered for books had I remembered just how crappy daytime TV is. Really, it's abysmal.

*Arrested Development reference. Dang, I miss that show.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Baby H Edition.

2011-04-04T00:01:00.001-04:00

I made H-man a little low-key playlist to listen to instead of constant TV chatter while nursing, staring off into space, making inadvertently hilarious faces, farting, burping, sleeping, and all of the other things H likes to spend his day doing. Now, these songs are not baby friendly, of course, just soothing sounding, to me anyway. Also, I've totally crapped out in the new music department, so these are all old. Prepare to be lulled into calmness.

Yeah. 114 songs. I know.

Week 40 Update: Baby!

2011-03-29T17:51:00.001-04:00

Hey there. In spite of this whole pregnancy thing being a total fluke, homeboy was determined to make his appearance as scheduled. I was originally due the 21st, then moved to 3/24, then 3/28, then at my last sonogram on February 25, they moved me back to 3/21. Lo and behold if I didn't go into labor on Sunday night and there he was by Monday evening, right on time. I take this to mean he'll be exceptional (since only what, 5% of kiddos are born on their due dates) from here on out. When I've got a bit more time, I'll recount labor and delivery - mostly for me, so I don't forget. It was something else. Not that I had anything to compare it to. In the meantime, prepare for an onslaught of pics of my bambino!

Henry Alexander Oberst

March 21, 2011

6 pounds, 12 ounces

20 inches long

Ignore our weirdo faces, my doc had literally just thrown a baby at me. Thankfully, the nurse (who was so awesome!) was totally with it and started snapping away while we're were making goofy mugs.

So new! I can't believe he crossed the one week mark yesterday. Sniffle.

K and H chillin' like villains. No, they're not villainous at all.

Stretching out before checking out of the hospital. Seriously, they just let you leave. Once I'd signed the forms, they could've cared less what we did with this kid. They didn't even make me leave in a wheelchair!

At home, hanging out with his best Boppy friend.

Morning snuggle time. With mittens. This kid is doing everything he can to poke out his own eyes. What's up with that?

So, yes, more later. I'm running on empty (they forget to mention that you, the mama, will feel like total poo (and not go poo) for sometime after birth, but no one cares, especially your kid) with about four hours of sleep under my belt out of the last 48. When we've better adjusted to our new normal, I hope to be back around here, but if you call me a mommyblogger, I will cut you. Just saying. I'm simply continuing to record and reveal fascinating snippets of my life and musings, they just now happen to include a baby.

Well, crap, there's no turning back now.

2011-03-16T23:16:00.000-04:00

I have begun the descent into momblogdom. However, fortunately, there are mom blogs out there that don't make me want to puke up the Benefiber laced water I just drank because my part-time job is consuming insane amounts of fiber since pregnancy makes your digestive system completely stop working. It's awesome! Try it! Right, so I like this one: Shannanigans. Not only does she dress up her peanut like a peanut, but lots of other things, but dang! Did you see that little kid? Is it wrong that I'm already looking forward to what combo costume we can wrangle Zeb and baby into already?

Week 39 update:

2011-03-15T22:38:00.000-04:00

You're still in there! The dorky websites say you're the size of a watermelon, and for once, I believe them. A smallish, roundish, not so ovalish watermelon, but melon nonetheless - except with arms and feet that insist on pummeling my insides - love you! According to the doc, you're going to bake at least another week - no progress this time. Fine by me! Hang out all you want! Crazy hormones talking here, but I feel like you're so much safer securely trapped on the inside that I'd rather you just continue your stint as internal wombmate for, you know, ever. But that's crazy and you gotta get out and your dad really wants to meet you, so fine. We'll do this thing the normal way, I suppose.

In the meantime, can I bitch a little bit? Being pregnant is great and all that crap, except not really. I mean, fine, it's ok and I'm super lucky to have experienced this and all that stuff (and I really mean that), but damn, I don't like how cranky and grouchy I've become because of feeling so physically blech. My hips have essentially decided to not hold up the rest of my body any longer. I've not gained any weight in the last few weeks (but assume there's been substantial shifting as the belly area has definitely grown, so fat is being redirected from somewhere, hopefully my thighs, please be my thighs) so it shouldn't be that, but dang if I can't get up. Or sit down. Or do anything without wincing like I've got a butt full of hemorrhoids. Oh wait. No, not yet, but I'm sure it's around the corner - I think it's last on the list of crappy pregnancy experiences. In any case, I've really tried to pre-pamper this kid as much as possible by at least trying to provide for his basic needs at reasonable prices, but dude. Help a mama out. There should be a shower for moms to be where they give you a hair cut, a wax, a pedicure and prop you up (because your hips won't work) in front of a fun house mirror that makes you look unlike the bloated milk machine that you are and obscures your chins.

Ok, back to being grateful that so far I'm suffering pretty well through this thing that a bajillion women have done selflessly (except for me) for thousands of years and that still nameless baby boy is right on track and healthy as can be.

Week 38 Update: Bowl of Pears

2011-03-07T09:10:00.000-05:00

Yay! Made it to week 38 without incident! And by incident, I mean delivery because we are still soooooo not ready (at home and at work). Ready-er, but not quite there. You now at least have a choice of sleeping locations (crib and assembled pack and play), but no installed car seat, so we couldn't actually take you home to use them, so there's that. All in good time, all in good time (or in the next two weeks or we're screwed). Your little clothes have been washed, oh, about 12 times (I tried to make them softer, but because no fabric softener allowed, they kind of ended up crunchier, sadface), not that I have any idea what will actually fit you once you're on the other side. You still have no set going home outfit, but I'm sure I'll come up with something... Right... Other than that, I've got an appointment today where hopefully they'll let me know everything's still humming along a-ok and that you're facing the right direction and all that business. Fingers crossed.

This week, all the websites are comparing you to some number of pears, which initially, I thought ridiculous. However, last night, as I was in bed watching you presumably tap out morse code on my belly (because you're already a genius, duh), I realized that pile of pears isn't too far off - that's what you feel like - a bag of pears being shaken in all directions simultaneously. Seriously, dude, what are you doing in there?

See you soon! But not too soon, please. Still need that two weeks, at least.

So,

2011-03-05T13:16:00.000-05:00

I got a Parenting - Early Years magazine in the mail this week, so I'm all set, right? That's pretty much all I'll need, I figure.

Week 37 Update: The Final Countdown

2011-03-01T22:59:00.000-05:00

And by that I mean that week 37 is full term, according to most docs. So, if yet to be named little man makes his debut before 40 weeks, he'd be a-ok. But he better not have any such plans. I'm super lucky to have a job, I know. And I'm lucky to have a job that affords paid leave, I know (that said - I do have to use all of my accrued vacation and sick leave that I've earned over the past three and a half years to fund this maternity leave endeavor and I'm not psyched about this and I'll tell you why - faculty are paid for their maternity leave for up to eight weeks, staff must use leave if they wish to remain compensated during maternity leave HELLO UNFAIR!!!!!). Where was I? Right, so glad to have a job and six weeks paid leave to take (although I earned it and it's part of my compensation and I'd like to take eight since I don't know what to expect nor do I know if I'll ever have another kid and kinda want to savor what I can), but the preparing to take leave part is like having a second job, which sucks when I don't have time or energy to do my first job. Blergh. Again, lucky to be gainfully employed, especially in the rocky world of higher education, I know, but stressful nevertheless. If I had a counterpart or back up, I'd feel a lot better, but our organization is structured in a way that each position is essentially one person deep, e.g. I am the one and only point person for 95% of my area of responsibility. Spreading that around to other staff and training them to take some of the heat while I'm out is proving to be quite difficult. I almost wonder if I just want to work a few days from home each week while I'm off to maintain some amount of continuity for employees and myself. I've got to prepare to be gone, manage while I'm gone, then recover from being gone when I get back. Is it worth it all? So, that's today's complaint.

Other than that, baby and I are doing ok. I'm definitely getting to the stage where I feel a faint waddle coming on, and I don't like it. But no one asked me. I feel like I weigh 200,000 pounds, but I actually dropped a couple lbs over the last week or so, not sure what's happening there, but the belly keeps on keepin' on, so I figure all is well.

I can't believe we're almost there! I suppose I should do smart things now like learn the car seat sitch, pack the hospital bag, come up with at least a short list of names, but what do you bet I don't do any of that and watch Charlie Sheen rant and rave instead?

Dear baby,

2011-02-23T19:10:00.000-05:00

no, you still don't have a name. In any event, I was eating some kind of chocolate something or other this earlier today as a little pick me up because I only have energy from about 10am until 10.05am and need constant refueling and dropped part of it into the boob region of my dress, apparently, because hours later, when I looked down, I had a big ol' chocolate smear below my boobs, but above my belt, which sits right on top of you. I think what I'm trying to say is thanks for creating a little hiding spot for my slovenliness. I owe you!

Oh hey there, week 36...

2011-02-21T23:04:00.001-05:00

So, one more week and bambino is fully baked! Not that I want to see him before week 40 when he's officially done, but it's good to know he can safely delivered at 37 weeks should something freaky happen. WHICH IT WON'T. Because I am not ready. Mentally (public pooping during delivery - cannot even contemplate), physically (will miss him chilling in utero), financially (do you know how much it's going to cost to pop this guy out?!), habitationally (new word meaning we haven't quite set up the nursery/anything... we have it - we just can't decide how to arrange).

In the meantime, feeling pretty ok aside from some serious, but unpredictable fatigue, like I might have face planted at my desk today (not really, but it was close) and lots of soreness. Everywhere. It's like I've gone for a month long hike. It's terrifying, because this is the easy part! Being pregnant and giving birth, while daunting, doesn't hold a candle to everything that's about to come next. Nervouspants!

To celebrate my constantly ballooning body (as in, cannot successfully reach toes), I got a pedicure after work today. It was orgasmic. For $35, someone agreed to massage my feet and calves while applying all kinds of delightful substances to soothe and soften followed by a hot stone* treatment topped off with deep berry polish. IT WAS SO GOOD, I'VE GOT TO GO ALL KANYE ABOUT IT. I wish I could have that every day.

*Please do not tell me that hot stone pedicure thingies are bad for pregnant ladies or I will cry. Not that you will see me, but you'll know.

Hey baby, hey baby, hey.

2011-02-18T22:47:00.000-05:00

I've been getting songs with the words "baby" and "baby boy" in my head a lot lately, which is, of course, weird because they're mostly totally inappropriate, e.g. Sean Paul and Beyonce's summer anthem from a million years ago. And that's what I'm thinking about this Friday night as I've been relegated to the couch due to an overzealous session with a burrito at Freebird. I know I've talked about it before, but now I really mean it. There is no room for food in my body any longer. Not even half a veggie hybrid (the smallest one they make). I have begged and pleaded with K to stop me from shoving anything and everything edible within my path into my face, but I think he's afraid of my probably reaction. As he should be. But dude! Help a girl out! Yeah, I might beat you up now, but I"ll probably think about thanking you later, before I forget. In any case, I'm washed up on the couch with Z-town watching some TLC, heating pad blazing on my back while watching your little limbs make waves on my belly. While I'm excited* for your arrival, I'm really going to miss my little internal roommate. I'm sad thinking about it now.

*"excited" is my PC way of saying scared shitless.

Week 35 Update

2011-02-15T13:31:00.000-05:00

...

But seriously folks, I am hobbling around like an old lady with advanced osteoporosis. Suddenly, it's like the uterine explosion has ransacked my muscles, tendons, ligaments and all that stuff in my pelvis, upper thighs, hips and where ever my abdominal muscles are hiding and I can't move. Like literally. I never knew what people meant when they "threw their back out, can't come into work today" but I totally get it now. I could not get out of bed this morning. Like at all. Like I might as well have been paralyzed. Weird. After some Tylenol and application of heat, I can move around, but dang! Can't do this every day. Not sure if the answer is more or less activity, prenatal massage, a chiropractor, consistent application of heat and Tylenol or living in a swimming pool/bath tub, but I gotta figure out something. Five weeks to go and I got a lot of stuff to do...

I think little dude's doing well, though. He's developed all new moves due to his increasingly cramped quarters. I still can't tell what's what, but I'm happy to know he's wiggling around in there. He gets the hiccups several times a day and has dance parties mostly early morning/late night. They say those patterns continue after birth. Yay! At least he won't be tap dancing on my bladder once he makes his escape. So, all in all, I still feel very fortunate that I've felt so well (aside from the occasional nervous breakdown/crying fit, random bout of extreme nausea, protesting digestive system, disagreeable muscles, sciatica, double chin growth, sometimes severe fatigue and giganto boob syndrome) and think I can hang on till he gets here without totally losing it, but that's still over a month away. We shall see...

Oh, and all of the week 35 updates say he's the size of a honeydew, which he was last week. Of course he's not honeydew like at all now or then. I don't know why they insist. Now he's the size of a five pound baby... because he is.

It's here!

2011-02-14T20:29:00.000-05:00

What you ask? B H D L N. That's right. Anthropologie now has a bridal boutique. I'm pretty sure there are like thousands of women out there who are about to leave perfectly adequate marriages in a shambles so they can remarry wearing one of these creations. Now I just need to find someone to con into marrying that will let me blow $4000 on a wedding ensemble and I'm in business!

Swoon.

Wanna see something scary?

2011-02-10T19:00:00.000-05:00

It's bee-spot with eight months and almost two weeks (34.75 weeks total) of baby growth! These are horrible iPhone photos. I look like a knocked up Heidi Klum in real life instead of a troll that swallowed a dwarf in a $5 Old Navy turtleneck and maternity jeggings. Some people get to be cute pregnant chicks. I am not one of those people. It's all boob and belly. But not for much longer!

We used to be friends a long time ago...

2011-02-09T20:08:00.000-05:00

Just kidding! We're still friends, Veronica Mars! After exhausting the obvious Netflix watch instantly choices, we decided to start Veronica Mars from the beginning. It's a Rob Thomas show and he's the dude that did Starz's Party Down* series, so we thought, what the hay. Also, I watched part of the last season when it aired and remembered it being pretty rad, for what it was. Right, so about 30 hours later, we're halfway through season two and I.Am.Hooked. This shit is awesome! Thanks to yet another snow day (day 5.5 of the year - holy crap), we're knee deep in mystery! Yay! I just needed to share my TV joy. Thanks.

*If you have not yet watched Party Down, you must. It's hi-larious. Its Netflix presence is elusive, but worth it. Not sure why they insist on posting the seasons in random pieces, but try anyway.

Oh my sweet lord. I will literally die if this happens.

2011-02-08T20:16:00.001-05:00

via BWE

13lbs and 2oz. Holy shizz! But seriously, since I haven't gained that much weight total (although it would appear so, but if you mention anything to my face about weight gain I will punch you) this is impossible, but terrifying nevertheless. Must not read further. Oh god.

Week 34 Update

2011-02-06T22:13:00.000-05:00

It's a honeydew! Can they not find something more baby shaped? Seriously.

Good news/bad news: went in for the 32/33 week sonogram to make sure everything's on track, which it is, in fact, little dude's weighing in at 4.5 lbs. He best slow down on the growth. I am not squeezing out a nine pounder, no way, no how. Unless that's what happens, of course. The perinatal guy said everything's a-ok, except that my amniotic fluid is down a quart, not really, but it's on the low side. I was told to hydrate, hydrate, hydrate and come back in two weeks to see what the dilly is. Luckily, I've got resources (Dr. Matthews) with OB/GYN hookups that say that had there really been an issue, I'd have been put on bedrest immediately. Here's hoping that doesn't happen. I can't afford that mentally, physically or financially. Dude's got to stay in the oven until at least my due date so I can use every speck of leave I've earned. Yay for no maternity leave! In the meantime, I can't imagine drinking more water than I already do, but I'm trying!

My new best friend.

I can't believe I have less than two months to go. Unfuckingreal.

House Arrest - Day Three: The Extreme Ultimate Cabin Fevering.

2011-02-03T15:34:00.001-05:00

Ohmygoodlord, we are still trapped in our tiny abode by the snowlocaust (too soon? yes). My car is in the shop (dropped it off on Monday, haven't been able to retrieve it yet, but when I do, new brakes! Yay. Not. Less money is more like it.) and K's car is all the way up our gravel driveway with a foot of snow 20 feet long blocking our way to our unplowed street that we couldn't get down even if we wanted to. So, laying low again. It's all I can do not to buy the whole internet. Online shopping is the devil when you're bored to death, so to combat my compulsions, I forced myself to sleep in until 9am! Gasp! Actually, it wasn't forced as much as my body is totally feeling all eight months of baby these last few days. Sciatica? Check. Weird lower pelvic pain because my bones are literally splitting apart? Check. Stuffy nose due to recent sickness and hormones? Yuppers. So, TylenolPM was my best friend last night and I slept it off this morning.

On today's agenda: watching all 10 episodes of Carrier on Netflix, via PBS. It's actually really interesting. There was a This American Life about the inner workings of an aircraft carrier and this series shows life aboard the Nimitz as it navigates its way from the west coast of the US to the Persian Gulf. Yes, K and I are super nerds. Duh. Also, on the agenda, Zeb unearthing every single toy he's ever had and leaving them as little landmines for us to step on when he's not snuggled up with me inevitably causing one of my limbs to go numb but I won't move because he's so sweet when he's asleep! The only time! I have a bad feeling that there might be an online purchase made later this afternoon (I think we need this) and perhaps a batch of blondies thrown into the oven for good measure. But in the meantime, I'm reading a new blog: Young House Love. It's rad! These peeps are so inspiring! Get on it!

I'm so ready to get out of here! Yeah, no work is nice (but I can't help but think of the crap piling up second by second back at the office), and spending time with K and Z-dog is awesome, but I think I do better when busier. I will declare the exact opposite when busy of course.

Week 33 Update - a few days late/Dear baby,

2011-02-02T14:53:00.000-05:00

Little dude! We made it to week 33, which means, allegedly, the start of month eight. And you know what, it's not that bad. I have been packing on the poundage, but I figure I'm supposed to as you're now around 17 inches and several pounds. Also, we've been snowed in for over 48 hours, which has meant chili, rice krispie treats, leftover enchiladas, pancakes and bacon, a multitude of snacks... and that was just this morning. I joke. Or do I?

Anyhoo, you're more active than ever, proving to be quite an efficient internal alarm clock, waking me up early even though work's canceled. But I'll take it. I actually look pretty pregnant now and it's fun to lay back and watch you try to plot your way out or redecorate or practice krav maga or whatever it is you're doing in there that causes the ripples in my belly. The downside is that we've grown so much in the last couple of weeks, that my belly skin is stretched to capacity, and we have a ways to go (7 - 9 more weeks, depending on your schedule). To combat the itchy-achiness, I've been taking lots of baths with bath oil while listening to This American Life. I'm pretty sure you now think that Ira Glass is your dad. And maybe he is. In my dreams. I joke, real dad!

Yesterday, due to being on weather lockdown, I washed all of your bedding, new blankets, truckload of clothes and anything else I could find. Yeah, I'll probably wash it all again before you get here to ensure maximum cleanliness and softness, but it was good to get a head start before I went all The Shining.

So, I think you're cooking along just fine, but we'll see ourselves on Saturday. My last sonogram was scheduled for yesterday, which was canceled. Obvs. So, I've been rescheduled for Saturday during hospital clinic hours before the doc goes on a two week vacation. Must be nice... Last time, I got totally sick during and was totally weirded out by the 3D images, but this time I'm actually looking forward to seeing your gigantic mama cheeks and your fat dad nose. If we could choose, we'd give you our best features, but since you don't need boobs, you'll have to settle for my brain and here's hoping you get your dad's height, but not till after you're out. Let's stay as wee as possible till you're on the other side, mkay?

See you soon! Not too soon, though.

In a related story - knocked up celeb couture as per Vulture.

Snoklahoma/It's a blizznado!

2011-02-01T12:45:00.001-05:00

Snow day, y'all. 0" to 1,000,000' of snow, depending, maybe. So says the radar. Or model. Or whatever. Really, they have no idea since the weather peeps are all working from home too since the entire.state.shut.the.eff.down. 904 schools are closed. I don't think the state actually has that many, but oh well.

Right, so I'm taking a shower at about 10.30am, because that's what you can do when you don't have to go to work (thank you! - actually, work was called off yesterday afternoon, unprecedented!) and K busts into the bathroom to ask me what birds eat. I say bird food? He's concerned for the blue jay and cardinal chilling (literally) on the back patio and wants to make sure they have food throughout the blizzard. Aw. We have nothing to give them except a torn up corn tortilla, which he tosses their way. Bon appetit! That's how I know he'll be a good dad.

In a related story, although Zeb has seen snow before (ice accumulation this winter and real snow last winter - tomorrow is his one year anniversary of joining our pack!), he's now terrified of it. It's going to be a fun day of trying to get him to do his business outside. Oh, dogs.

Dear no-we-STILL-don't-have-a-name-for-you-yet-baby,

2011-01-30T10:09:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, the fabulous L-Ma hosted a shower de bebehs just for you. I was really worried because, seriously, about half of the peeps invited bailed at the last minute for one reason or another (lots of sickness happening in the OK and a lot of people invited don't actually live anywhere near here, so I knew they wouldn't be coming) and I thought you, fine me, might be self conscious about low turnout (e.g. what did I do to you, people? I'm sorry!). However, the room was full, the punch was awesome, the cupcakes were delicious, the snacks were delectable, the decorations tasteful, we played only one non-annoying game (which I won, but was disqualified since I got the prize of the biggest.pile.of.gifts.ever) and I behaved myself in spite of being really sick (the OK sicknessfluwhatever is about to completely take me down). I even enlisted the help of my mom's friend's three year old to help unwrap the gifts and I didn't even scare her or offend her! Maybe I can be around little kids. Probably not. Anyway, it was actually great and everyone's generosity was truly surprising and touching. Even if K and I mess up with this kid, I know he's got a pretty strong and wide group of people genuinely interested in his new little life. Kind of nice.

So, I finally make it home, am somewhat grouchy due to sickness and sugar overload, unload the bounty, settle into my recliner position in an attempt to breathe through my stuffed up nose and wait. Waiting for what, I'm not sure. But Lacey says I have dinner plans, she's just not sure when. Obviously, someone's coming. But who? And when? And I don't feel good and I'm cranky and irritable and try to pry it out of Lacey, but she won't budge. Finally, she comes over and we head out to dinner, mystery guest still not here. I'm trying to think of who we'd go to the trouble to tolerate and I honestly can't think of anyone that could/would make the trip from afar, so I'm totally stumped. I'm shoveling chips and queso into my face at the restaurant when in walks C-tina! All the way from Portland, OR! Lacey, Christina and I have been a little triumvirate since we were probably eight (although, there have certainly been stretches of radio silence as we've moved all over the country and other countries over the last 10 years, but we can always manage to pick back up) and I can think of no other people I'd rather share yesterday (or any of this stuff, really) with. My crankiness melted away in good times.

But what I really want to say is, have you all seen Portlandia? We came back to our place and fired it up (thanks Amazon on demand!) after dinner. I've still (I know) never been to Portland, but I think there's a lot of Northampton happening in Portland or the reverse or whatever. Also, L-Ma lived in San Fran for years, so I think we all have a pretty good appreciated (sorta, more C-tina) of the wonderful craziness.

I wish I had something super fancy to do/place to go

2011-01-29T11:32:00.000-05:00

because I would find a way to buy and wear* this:

*Post bambino, of course. I don't think Halston does maternity.

Dear baby, it's your week 32 update.

2011-01-25T14:57:00.001-05:00

Hot damn! Time flies (when you don't know you're knocked up for a lot of it). In any event, you're the size of a random fruit or vegetable this week. Shocking! Allegedly, you weigh about 3.5 pounds. At the rate I'm/we're growing, I'd believe it. I'm about to enter the stage of gaining a poundish a weekish (so far, mostly in my second chin) and I'm terrified, so hang on for your growth spurt, little dude. You're about to run out of room to continue the acrobatics you're so fond of. ALL THE TIME. Except for sometimes, then I freak out completely, convinced something is wrong, but then you flip around and all is well. Right so, you're still nameless and might remain this way until you're old enough to choose your own, at the rate we're moving on this decision. It will be weird when you're President Batman Oberst, but the country'll get used to it. In the meantime, I think I've found what I want to take you home in. Not that it will fit, or that you'll wear it for more than 30 seconds without barfing or pooing all over it, but a mama can dream, right?

via ittikid

Going to birthing class, even though I hate it, just for you tonight, dude. See you soon!

Ice Day!

2011-01-20T09:21:00.000-05:00

In the OK, we don't have snow days often, but we do have ice days! And today is such a day. They always start early, with employees and school children clicking between local news channels to see which will report their closing first. If you're my mom (middle school principal), this starts at roughly 3.30am. If you're me, you wait until your mom calls you at 5.45am to report that she's off the hook for the day, too bad about your school, but she will call your boss to tell her you're not coming in because Mom simply forbids it (I drive about 25 miles each way to work), even though I'm almost 30 and sperminated. In any event, after a flurry of whiny text messages with coworkers, success! School is closed! Until noon. Which is better than nothing, especially since the roads are projected to be totally fine until then. The only hiccup is that I have a root canal scheduled for 1pm today. Which is worse? Root canal or driving the treacherous roads for a half day of work only to turn around and get stuck in traffic for hours on the way home? Oh, life, with your choices and whatnot.

Woot! (except the problem is I have like 10 million kajillion things to do and would actually like to be there, but don't want to ruin my one and only car.)

In a related story, Zeb hasn't seen snow or ice since he was a baby dog and it was hilarious to watch him get reacquainted this morning. I wish there was more accumulation so he could bound around in it. He spent a good five minutes just licking at what little there was, then skidding across the patio. Adorbs.

Week 31 Update

2011-01-18T13:22:00.000-05:00

Sick. It's like I'm making up for all of the first trimester morning sickness I skipped out on in one weekend. Blech. The only way I feel ok is to be still. Very still. Which is working out today, since my office flooded over the weekend. So, between bouts of extreme nausea, I'm trying to work from home since I literally have no office (apparently mine flooded the most - burst chiller pipe?), no computer (they're using mine to support the main university switchboard, which runs out of our office - yay HR!), and no files (they've been wheeled away somewhere to dry out). Here's hoping tomorrow's better for everyone. Also, here's hoping that I can get myself to birth preparation class tonight, even though it seems kinda lame. K and I laughed through the breathing techniques because we're super mature (in spite of being probably the oldest couple there).

Fruit/veg update: bambino is now the size of four navel oranges, whatever that means. All I know is that he's definitely growing, and so am I. Like a second chin. Boo.

I've got your Golden Globes right here...

2011-01-16T23:00:00.002-05:00

First, I didn't watch, so I can't weigh in on the whole Ricky Gervais was a tool thing, but, dudes, the people he ragged on are also tools, so, whatever. Secondly, K and I went to see Black Swan, which is a GG related activity, I think. While I loved it, K loathed it. Too much ballet and classical music for his taste, he said. Even the lady on lady action couldn't keep his attention. It did mine, though. Dang! Mila Kunis is waaaaay underrated and super hot. You lose Kevin McCallister. However, when we got home, I wasn't too disturbed by disfigured swans to hightail it over to the bajillion websites covering the GG dress parade. And man, it was a bad one. Everyone looked like shit, in my opinion, except for one special lady. The Swinton. Ever since I stumbled upon Orlando back in middle school I have been involved in a bizarre, androgynous love affair with both Virginia Woolf and Tilda Swinton. Happily, Tilda has been cranking out stellar performances ever since and that requires her to make red carpet appearances every so often (Virginia, not so much). Behold, The Swinton as best described by the Fug Girls (my favorite online anything):

Right on T.Swint.

On not shopping, continued.

2011-01-15T23:03:00.000-05:00

I'm a vain person. There. I said it. I've always had body issues (duh, I'm a chick), but was just getting comfortable with myself and rebuilding my wardrobe after a realignment (read 20 lbs dropped) when I found out I was knocked up. There went all that work! Not really. It's taken a full seven months for the baby bump to make its serious debut (like, completely unavoidable now) and I've decided to dress it as cheaply as possible (not decided, I have to, all extra funds should really be diverted to more important things, like shoes, baby shoes!). I've hit up serious sale items at Old Navy and Target, mostly, with a few peppered in from GAP and Motherhood Maternity (but that stuff's mostly crap - stay away - too much $$ for too little quality) and have created a complete enough prego wardrobe. Especially since I've only got about 70 something days to go. Right, so even though I've satisfied my urge to shop by buying necessary maternity clothes, I can't get emotionally attached to any of the items unless I wanna go all Dugger. So, I continue to fantasy shop, much like when I check myself out in the full length mirror, I fantasize that I look good instead of wearing illfitting, cheap clothes. Blech. What I'm trying to say, and it's difficult to focus since little man is practicing his ninja moves and, dang, he's strong, is that I want this dress:

It's calling to me, but alas, it won't fit for a long, long time, I'm sure. Also, it might as well be a million dollars.

Dear baby,

2011-01-10T11:53:00.000-05:00

You know what's nice? When I'm feeling all anxious or weepy or whatever it is that I feel these days and my face is most certainly all screwed up in some look of consternation, you'll jab me really hard or perform some other internal gymnastics or get the hiccups and I cannot help but stop in my tracks and smile. Thanks!

Week 30 Update

2011-01-09T15:35:00.000-05:00

OHMYGOD. Week 30? For reals? Things have been getting checked off the list, though. Pediatrician selected (mine from when I was a kid). Birth preparation classes start on Tuesday night. We picked up an ok enough changing table/dresser from Craigslist. The registry is complete (you can search on thebump.com for me and send me anonymous gifts - that's totally cool). Childcare arrangements are in the works. From now through the end of month eight, I've got to go to the doc every two weeks. Why? I dunno. But on Friday, I had to go in for my glucose screening. Here's hoping I don't have gestational diabetes, which surely I do considering the amount of sugar I've consumed. I'm super into fruit right now. Grapes, melons, apples, strawberries, blueberries. More! I want more! Now! But it's snowing and I'm too lazy. Right, so here's a fictional depiction of me and spawn when we learn we're diabetes free next week:

via

In the meantime, I'm still feeling pretty good and am still not popping out like I'd thought I'd be by now, but lazier than usual, which is really freaking lazy. K and I have managed nothing but extreme couch sitting and Netflix viewing this weekend. We watched all of Californication (boobs much?) season one and all of Dexter season one. I suppose we should be out busting a move, partying it up, livin' la vida loca pre-bambino, but we're just so tired from being lazy.

I have the energy of a roofied three toed sloth.

2011-01-08T12:52:00.001-05:00

I don't like it, but I can't fight it.

Aw

2011-01-05T13:15:00.000-05:00

Look at Lacey. She made a little bloggy blog for us and is organizing a shower! She's only a medical student/rockstar, so I know she has tons of free time. I don't know how she does it. I come home from work and all I manage to do is put on some sweat pants while she whips up a blog and puts together a party.

It's A Bundle of Boy!

Week 29 Update

2011-01-04T19:34:00.000-05:00

It's about that time. The time to compare a (teeny, tiny) human with a vegetable. Butternut squash to be exact.

Not so much to report aside from the fact that I think I had my first hormonal freak out over New Years, like uncontrollable sobbing accompanied by death stares and the silent treatment. Marry me! However, I've sincee returned to my senses (sort of/for now) and things seem to be cooking along just fine. I went in last week for an appointment and have only gained one pound since my last. I'm not sure how that's possible since my boobs alone surely weigh 10 million pounds. Also, that brings my total weight gain to a whopping seven pounds since this all started. Surely, something's going to give and I will balloon. But, until then, I'll enjoy looking vaguely pregnant and feeling pretty good most of the time. Being the little dude's landlord has been a piece of cake so far. So far...

Favorite New Blog Alert

2010-12-30T22:05:00.000-05:00

this one: Fabulous On A Budget. It totally rocks. Happy reading!

Currently Coveting

2010-12-28T21:04:00.000-05:00

That's actually a bookmark category I have. And I pretty much covet everything. All the time. Let's see what's on the list today...

Fruit Embroidered Pillows at Overstock - I need all four.

Glacier National Park Blanket at Pendleton - who doesn't need this?

Weck Glass Jars at Canoe - I somehow came into possession of some old school glass Pyrex pre-plasticware food storage containers and I love them. These are perfect too. There's something about storing your food in glass over plastic.

Corona Sofa at Macy's - Shockingly well priced. I'm totally over our hand me down blue sectional, but too bad so sad for me.

Escape 1-W at Giant - Because I still don't have a bike. Still.

Savvy at Bakers - In grey. I'm having a grey thing. I like these 'cause they're wedges, which means I am less likely to fall over.

Yes, this list is devoid of baby crap. That list is too big for one blog. I need/want it all! All of it! Ever!

Week 28 Update

2010-12-26T21:47:00.000-05:00

28 weeks down, which means only 12 weeks to go. Allegedly. And I need every second. I've given myself till after January 1 to get my ass in gear. There are baby rooms to decorate (e.g. a trip to Ikea since that's all I can afford), birthing preparation classes to attend, registries to finally complete, a shower to not ruin, pediatrician to select, birth plan to write, childcare to secure, hospital bag to pack, name to choose... oh my freaking God. So. Much. So. Little. Time.

In the meantime, babble.com says the baby's the size of an eggplant this week. This is perplexing, because, as you see, eggplants come in many, many sizes. All I know is that at seven months (maybe? still confused) I'm definitely crossing from the maybe she's just fat to 95% sure she's knocked up, although, I'm still only rocking a couple pair of maternity skinny jeans with extra elastic in the waist - no panel action yet. The dreaded maternity pants with those lovely panels are probably right around the corner, though, but mostly because I've been gorging on holiday goodness for days now. Awesome!

X-mas Fail

2010-12-25T20:36:00.000-05:00

No one got me one thing I asked for. Seriously, each request was TOTALLY reasonable. Kidding. This dude is totally effed.

(click to enlarge)

On the first day of Zebmas his people gave to him

2010-12-21T19:22:00.000-05:00

one adorable stuffed holiday dinner!

We decided to give lil Z a piece of his turkey plate each day until Christmas, but we didn't really count, so... we'll give him the plate Christmas Day. In the meantime, he's been obsessed with the roll. He just hangs out with it in his mouth, occasionally giving it a squeak.

In a related story, Z-pain's b-day was probably a couple of weeks ago if when we got him (February 2, 2010) he was around nine weeks or so. To celebrate, I'm going to bake him some puppy pumpkin biscotti now that holiday break has officially commenced (12 day weekend ahoy!). Well, it commenced when I peaced out of work at about one this afternoon because we FINALLY finished the hellacious end of year payrolls, but I think it starts now since I just roused from my Snuggie™ incuded nap.

The point is, happy birthday and Merry Christmas Zeb! You're my favorite. (For now.)

Week 27 Update

2010-12-20T11:32:00.001-05:00

I'm thoroughly confused about what starting week 27 means. Is the end of month six? Am I already in month 7? I've never been good at the math (except when I use it for my job, of course *wink*), but my doctor says one thing, the sonogram people say another, and then websites and books yet another. So, I could be anywhere from five to eight months knocked up at any given time. All I know is my due date is somewhere between March 21 and March 24. Which probably actually means May 3. Whatevs. I'm certainly is no hurry, yet.

However, recent developments that indicate I am in fact getting there include, but are not limited to: lower back pain that's actually more like in my butt ( I guess, just lower, lower spine), but only when I "exercise" (which means me hoofing it around the track at the Y with my mom trotting behind for 45 minutes a few times a week, not hardly enough to offset the pre-holiday cookie and fudge damage I'm doing), boob explosion - just when I think they can't get any bigger, bump explosion which has led me to actually pull on a pair of maternity jeggings (ahhhhh - sigh of comfort!) since my attempt at using the belly band thingy made me feel like my pants were a mere seconds away from dropping in public and I'm already paranoid enough, and I cried for no reason (not really, there was a reason, it's just hazy and I've essentially already forgotten it) for about three hours Saturday night.

In a related story, K put together the crib his mother graciously purchased for us and I received the dinos from Anthro. AND THAT'S ALL WE'VE GOT! It's kind of like we think in addition to me giving birth to a human, I will also pop out a pack 'n' play, breast pump, boppy, bumbo, blankets, burps rags, diapers, clothing, baby tub, swing, bouncy chair, wipes, changing pad, changing table, bottles, rocker/glider, college tuition and all of the other million things we should, but don't have. Oops.

Seriously?

2010-12-18T01:48:00.000-05:00

Are you seeing this? 62 on Christmas Eve? Let me remind you of last Christmas. It was a snowy shitshow, but kind of cozy and exciting. This year, it's practically going to be tropical out. Weird. I'm having a hard enough time getting into the spirit of things, but dang! This really makes it hard. But also, I think the less layers I can wear the better. The bump is on the move and I'm starting to look a lot like Mimoo.

I can call her that because we've been friends since hers was the first CD I ever got. Yup, I'm old.

BREAKING NEWS

2010-12-14T22:23:00.000-05:00

Scarjo and RyReyn are no more. Finito. Gone the way of Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens. So, you know what that means. One or both of them are mine! I'm not particular. And yeah, I got a babydaddy, but in the words of Beyonce, "if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it."

Week 26 Update

2010-12-13T22:05:00.000-05:00

Same as week 25. Except fatter. Notice I did not say babier. But fatter. Because I am eating for 13 at any given time. This happens every winter. It's like the minute it drops below 50, I start eating for a small army of very large and very hungry people. So, now it's the perfect storm of bambino, holiday gluttony and my evolutionary need to pack on the poundage in case of a winter famine. Awesome.

But, you know what makes everything better? Even my fat ass, Heidi Montag sized jugs, jiggly belly etc.

The saddest thing in the whole world has happened.

2010-12-11T22:19:00.001-05:00

UPDATE: Obviously, I've overcome this very brief problem. I just eat like a horse and then feel sick.

I am unable to eat like I used to. I'm not a doctor, but I'm guessing that the kiddo and his accommodations are taking up enough space now to squash parts of my internal organs in a new way. This includes my stomach, which means I cannot stuff it full with delicious foodstuffs as I am accustomed. Now, mind you, I have been somewhat careful to watch what I eat for the last year or so resulting in about a stone and a half (I prefer to think of lbs this way, much nicer than their American equivalent) weight loss, so I don't go totally overboard, but I do like to hunker down and enjoy a honking helping of scrumptiousness sometimes. But, no more. Now, I'm going to have to consume sensibly, eating small meals 100 times a day. BLAST! But it'll totally be worth it, right? RIGHT?

In a related story, because I turned into a beached whale in the booth at Charleston's during my attempt at dinner (baked potato and soup, you'd think I could handle that), I made K cut our date night short and take me home so I could slide into my lounge pants and beach on the couch. We hooked our huge ass (42" is huge to us, normal to others) to Netflix and are basking in the wonder that is Air Guitar Nation. Recommended if you're in the mood for a documentary, but can't quite handle child prostitution or the deterioration of the US economy or sad state of food in America

Dear No-We-Don't-Have-A-Name-For-You-Yet Baby,

2010-12-10T21:34:00.004-05:00

I might have bought you a little something today. Like your first stuffed toys. Dinosaurs to be exact. Terrance Triceratops and Talia T-Rex. Your dad loves dinos (and all things space, but I couldn't find any space dinosaurs on sale), so I thought you two might enjoy these together. Merry pre-birth Christmas!

*Yes, these are from Anthropologie. Yes, I have a problem. Step 1, complete!

Oh hell yeah

2010-12-09T21:00:00.003-05:00

Today I popped into Daisy Exchange, where I occasionally force young, hip women to sift through my cast offs when my closet overfloweth. Most of the time, I come away with a tidy pile of cash and little dignity. However, today, I was actually looking to purchase some large-ish shirts and/or dresses that I can belt and wear as my boobs explode and mini bump continues to expand, but doesn't quite require tenting. I found a few things all under $7 including, wait for it... an Anthro top. FROM THIS SEASON. THAT I BOUGHT LAST MONTH. FOR $68. Oh yes, the Odille Bianka blouse in navyish was hanging at the back of a pile for $6.50. SCORE! Yes, I have it in a print already, but effing A! I am stoked. But also depressed because I paid $68 when I coulda just got it for you know, 90% off. Curses. And happiness.

Thought of the day:

2010-12-08T22:49:00.000-05:00

Can Helen Mirren get any better? The answer is no.

Week 25 Update

2010-12-08T17:12:00.003-05:00

At my regularly scheduled ob/gyn appointment last week, the doc suggested/required a 3D ultrasound since TLC was almost knocking at my door when I learned I was con niño to check development, really nail down the due date, etc. So, we did that today. I've decided that instead of carrying a child, I'm carrying a fossil. All I could pick out initially without the tech and doctor specifically pointing out parts was a prehistoric looking spine (which is good, glad you have a spine!!) and K and I both commented on the weirdness of the image. We're definitely not using our imaginations to help construct a baby out of the blurry squashiness. Neither of us is particularly sentimental, but I worry that we're too pragmatic to enjoy any of this. But, I guess it's not about us enjoying anything as much as making sure homeboy gets out alright. That's really my only job. They did finally find his little face (he's 1.1 pounds) and I'm hoping he looks a little better in real life. The picture was all sepia toned and kind of scary. On the other hand, it really confirmed that there's a bebeh in there! It's for real! He's real!

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. Christmas.

2010-12-07T18:41:00.007-05:00

You know how when you break up with someone, you go backward thinking, oh man, that last time we blanked was the last time we'll ever blank. Yeah, so last Christmas was the last Christmas I could be semi-selfish and get stuff for myself. Now impending baby jail has imposed new limitations of Christmas gluttony. Damn! Not that I don't want stuff for señor spawn, but I just didn't know I needed to cash in last year. Family has asked what we want, but we know the answer is not a Wii or moolah for a pre-baby vacay. And yes, I am super grateful that anyone asks at all. I am a notoriously horrible gift giver. I think I'm going to have to outsource b-days and Christmas when the kid arrives or I'll scar him (deeper) for life. Right, so, instead of actually getting anything, I have given myself the gift of fantasizing about what I would want. Not that I would get any of it because I ask for too much and it's all too expensive, but that's how I roll.

Tom's - I finally caved over T-day break and bought some black canvas Tom's that were on sale for 25% off. I figured they'd come in handy when I can't see or reach my feet and then later when I don't have time to brush my teeth, let alone contemplate shoes that don't just slip on. And now I'm in love. Perfectly comfortable and versatile, I'd like some more, please.

Breville Panini Press - There is nothing better than crusty, oily bread encasing fontina and salty, salty salami, hot and melty, ready for a dip in some dijon or tapenade. So hungry.

Over the knee boots - I have short, squatty legs (I'm a whopping 5'1" - sorry bebeh, but know that your dad is 6'4" so I think you got a good shot at exceeding the curse of Tom Cruise) and I like to make them look longer. One way is to wear heels. This typically ends in scratches, bruises, cramped and gnarled toes, etc. Another way is over the knee boots. These are seksi (especially in a size 7).

An Evening with David Sedaris tickets - it's like we're old friend and I haven't seen him in a long time. I LOVE YOU and your decidedly annoying voice, which is coming to OKC on April 18.

Kate Spade Desk Calendar - because I can't get enough Kate Spade in my life. Nor can I remember anything. Good combo.

Knitted Cowl - so soft, so warm, so winter, so need it (in fig or lemongrass)!

Tarte Cheek Stain and Fresh Sugar Plum Tinted Lip Balm - they're my favorites and I need more, but they're $$.

Amazon gift card - so I can download all the music I forgot to discover this year. I'm in a music void and I don't like it.

Jonathan Adler Leo Pillow - if you're a Leo, then you totally understand why you need a $100 pillow dedicated to your birth month.

Pretty bling - love these.

Lululemon Groove Pant - I almost forgot! Yes, I spent a ridic amount of money on a pair of yoga pants from Lululemon (the wunderunders to be precise) and it was hard earned money very well spent. I cannot say enough about their comfort and how they've held up. I got them when I weighed 20+ pounds more than now, wore them comfortable after that (not to mention they helped me feel not hideous when running/attempting to run at the gym), and now wear them over el bumpo (although, he's still fairly tiny for 25 weeks). So, I think the groove pants are going to be well worth the price. Oh yes, I will be getting some. Somehow. Someday.

Suck it, Nebrasska

2010-12-04T09:20:00.004-05:00

Today's the day. After many a painful misstep this season (in spite of one glorious week/three minutes at the top of the BCS poll), OU finds themselves battling Nebraska one last time (RIP Big 12) for the conference championship. While I'm unsure of our chances, to win, what I am sure of is that this game will be memorable because it'll be the first viewed from our new HUGE ASS/42" TV. That might seem like kid's play to you, but for us, having finally retired my parent's circa 1998 old school 36 incher, it is effing heaven. But, the most important thing is that it was hella cheap. I mean, ridonk. Like less than I can spend on iTunes in an hour. (Not really, but close.) In any case, in spite of, you know, expecting a bebeh, this purchase is actually the most adult I've felt since I signed up for retirement. Kudos, me.

On not shopping

2010-12-02T19:16:00.004-05:00

Due to the impending belly (and probably other body parts, but I really, really, really hope not because, dude, my boobs literally cannot get any bigger than they normally are - I'm not bragging, them's just the facts) explosion, I have curtailed my shopping habit 100%. SO EFFING HARD! Oh hey black Friday sales, cyber Monday deals and general holiday steals goodness, I'll just sit out your awesome offerings this year as my waistline disappears into oblivion (which, has happened a little, but mostly because of T-day overexposure and eating lunch out everyday because it tastes sooooo good - however, I can still fit into my skinny jeans at 24 weeks, so huzzah lycra or whatever they're partially made of!). Complain, complain, complain. It's all I ~~do now~~ have ever done. What I'm asking is, for those of you who can take advantage, do it for me. 30% of your entire J.Crew order today! And all of the other super awesome deals out there. Pour one out for your homie.

RIP darling shirt I would've considered for the holidays with your cheery plaid and whimsical beading. I would have tucked you into a short black skirt with inky tights beneath, finished off with suede heels.

Dear baby,

2010-11-30T12:49:00.003-05:00

I'm sure there will be a kajillion things I'll love about you, but for now, I'm super excited that your dad, out of nowhere, realized that we'll (finally) need a Christmas tree (ok, maybe not this year, but definitely next!). I'm excited because your father has a black belt in scrooginess, but it appears his black coal holiday heart is melting a little just for you. Who knows, maybe we'll even go totally crazy and put light on the house! Not.

Under Pressure (whine whine whine)

2010-11-28T20:42:00.004-05:00

Tomorrow brings the beginning of week 24 and I've yet to feel even a modicum of excitement about the impending arrival of the little dude. Between the shock of the situation, multiple grand parents croaking, T-day and a brutal short work week (hello 14 hour days with no time for meals, but plenty of time for monumental stress) I can't get to a place where I feel like everything's going to be ok and is working out like it should.

This is due in part to the fact that K and I aren't married. Yeah, we're doing this totally out of order, but when your collective parents (and grand/soon to be great grandparents) are old school Oklahomans, this is a stumbling block. I learned that basically neither set of parents is excited or happy (in spite of the fact that K and I have been in a committed relationship for at least three years... and are 28 and 29 respectively, we're not 18) and very concerned because we're unmarried and not ready (duh, anyone who says they're absolutely ready to have a baby is a fucking liar - it's impossible!). I'm not sure if they think one of us is going to bail on the other leaving them to pick up the slack or if they don't want to share the news since instead of us being husband and wife we're boyfriend and girlfriend or what, but it feels super shitty to not have your family behind you 100% during a time like this. Yeah, it's not ideal, but it's not like we're the only people who've found themselves in this situation. I can't imagine that we wouldn't have headed down this path anyway, so what if we headed down it in reverse? Big deal.

In any case, I still barely have a bump (which is fine as long as everything's checking out ok!) and have had pretty much zero symptoms, but dang, this week brought out the weepiness in me something fierce. There's so much to do, so little time, and even less money. The next four months are going to be a shit show, but it will all be worth it in the end, right? RIGHT?

Happy T-day, Y'all!

2010-11-25T09:42:00.003-05:00

'Tis the season, no? Today, we will be going to not one, but two Thanksgiving meals within an hour of each other. Yay! Not. My digestive system is basically on strike (thanks spawn), so there's nothing I want less than to participate in social gorging. Believe, me, this is hard. I love eating more than I love reading perezhilton.com all day every day. But, alas, I think I'm going to have to take it really easy or else. Also, there's T-day dinner number 3 on the horizon for Saturday. Yay! Not.

In the meantime, hope this gets you in the mood. From one of my favorite movies, Home for the Holidays:

Also, I'm grateful for a bunch of crap and stuff. There.

Hey 'Ye

2010-11-24T13:14:00.003-05:00

Dear spawn,

I hope you like Kanye, because My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is blowing up my speakers. Seriously, this album is really, really good. A lot of people thought 808s and Heartbreaks sucked, but I liked it. However, this is a return to Kanye's best. Boyfriend brings it with well produced, well lyricized compositions that make me hate the radio. And yeah, he's a freak and yeah he writes in ALL CAPS ALL THE TIME, but so fucking what.

Week 23

2010-11-22T15:28:00.003-05:00

And really nothing to show for it. This has been a completely symptomless pregnancy, which is great, of course. So far, I've actually lost weight (weird) and am still in my normal clothes (thank God because we are broke, broke, broke). The only typical things are my cravings for cheeseburgers. Wait, that's always been an issue. Other than that, I'm going to trust the docs and the ultrasound since they say everything's there and accounted for (including boy parts) and humming along just fine.

In the meantime, I'm trying to think of all the unprepared moms out there who've made it just fine, like Britney, Khourtney Kardashian, Jamie Lynn Spears, Ashley Simpson, Nicole Richie. I'm in great company, right?

P.S. Would it be wrong to ask for corporate sponsorship for this kid? I would totally name him Devon (hello Devon Energry) or Chesapeake or Coca-Cola or pretty much anything that would pay the bills.

So, that happened.

2010-11-21T22:24:00.003-05:00

But before I reveal what "that" is, let us review the following posts. There's this one. And this one. And probably a lot more that I can't remember because I can't remember anything anymore and tire easily. Because, you guessed it: the bee-spot is knocked up. FOR REALZ. Despite my best efforts and my lady doc always telling me my chances of conception aren't awesome (read very minimal), nature conspired to prove everyone wrong. And now, baby bee-spot is no longer a joke, but due this spring. Believe it! (I don't.) Shocked? Me too. But, I'm Oldy McOlderson (29) and am in a stable, long term relationship with my lawyer/boyfriend. No, he's just my boyfriend. He hasn't had to represent me. Yet. So, we were eventually headed this direction, I just anticipated this event happening a little later. However, now that I'm going through it and all that shiz, I'm happy to be 29 since all kinds of additional testing and care is required in just a few short years.

So, now you know. This blog has been dead, obvs, but I've decided to give it new life, literally and figuratively. Mazel tov, me!

it's on.

2010-10-02T12:02:00.001-04:00

that is all.

Sunday Shining

2010-09-26T12:23:00.002-04:00

I can't remember how this song came into my playlist, probably thanks to early morning VH1 videos back when I had insomnia and they actually played music. In any case, I think of it sometimes, and very creatively, on Sunday. However, I'm not feeling very shiny. Work has been extraordinarily draining (think 14 hour days for going on three weeks), which wouldn't be so bad if I were fairly compensated, but, frankly, I'm just not. Thanks awesome economy. But, it's feeling fall-like outside, my house is relatively clean, the OK state fair is on (Hello fried mashed potatoes on a stick! I'm coming for you.) and I get paid on Thursday. Could be worse, right? RIGHT?

Finley Quaye - Sunday Shining
Uploaded by Dagoba54. - Watch more music videos, in HD!

Sometimes, I think*

2010-09-08T12:05:00.005-04:00

that acquaintances, coworkers, friends and family in the OK would understand me a lot better (not that anyone wants to) if they had a better grasp on just what it means to have attended Smith College. Not that it's some high falutin' ivory tower full of monied ladies with brains and that I'm a brilliant feminist, but that it's a shitshow. A SHITSHOW PEOPLE. I say that in the nicest way possible. Moving from one of the most liberal places in OK to Noho is like [insert outrageously opposite analogy here]. Examples include:

Ladies who are dudes at a women's college.
Friday afternoon tea service in your residence.
Opening your dorm room door to naked cartwheel night.
Showing porn in a college owned auditorium (I showed up for what I thought was an independent film, but at least now I can say I've seen The Opening of Misty Beethoven on the big screen).
And so many other things I'll never know about since I spent half of my four years there at Dartmouth (oops).

In any case, someone's doing a good job of reminding me of why I'm so screwed up over at Smith'd a blog by Smithies about Smithies. Thanks!

*rarely, though. Don't worry.

Dear boyfriend,

2010-09-06T17:58:00.002-04:00

please stop trying to perfect your cookie cake recipe (pretty much daily). When you cut your latest creation into a perfect shape, someone has to eat the crispy reject edges, and that person is me. Then I have to drink milk, which is gross, but a requirement of chocolate chip cookie consumption - I don't make the rules. None of these things are good for me. Desist dude.

BREAKING NEWS

2010-08-30T21:01:00.003-04:00

I interrupt this program to bring you the following announcement: TINA FEY ACTUALLY LOOKS GOOD. T-Fey usually Lemons* her fancy outfits but good, however, at the Emmys last night, she looked particularly fabulous. Well played, personal idol.

*see how I did that?

Dear clementines,

2010-08-29T15:01:00.004-04:00

I simply adore your easy packaging and tiny tartness. You are pretty much the best fruit out there. Thanks for filling in the space between meals with your perfection.

TV Math

2010-08-22T00:21:00.002-04:00

In which I kind of feel guilty about ragging on engagement pics

2010-08-21T14:23:00.000-04:00

Today, I went to the laundromat to wash my parent's guest bedroom comforter because neither of them have any idea of how to operate a front loading commercial machines and because I suffer from debilitating, chronic, terminal parental guilt syndrome (they've spent a kajillion dollars on me, the least I can do is drag my ass to the laundromat while they're out of town caring for my ailing grandmother kind of thing). While I was there, I observed several couples happily doing their laundry. One of them holds open the door while the other shovels in a load of towels. Another pair folds t-shirts side by side. Another couple sits giggling in front of an open laptop. And another works wordlessly following a long established routine. It was kind of reassuring, like coupling's ok. And wouldn't a laundromat make a wonderful location for an engagement photo shoot? Ok, joking. Or am I?

Cute or potentially criminal? I can't help but remember this.

Things I hate #1,348,073.46

2010-08-20T22:47:00.002-04:00

Elaborate engagement photo sessions. They're just weird. Sorry marrieds or about to be marrieds, but no one wants to see overly saturated pics of you in a dress from Anthropologie with cankle creating wedges and your betrothed standing hand in hand in front of a barn. Or train tracks. Or the shitty part of town trying to be some kind of rustic authenticity. Or spread out on a "vintage" quilt in a grassy field. Or a shot of your engagement shoes. Or a black and white of a somber embrace in front of a bookstore because you're literate and cool, we get it. Anyway, that is all. For today.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: So predictable edition.

2010-08-16T16:18:00.000-04:00

I am spectacularly lazy on most fronts, but my recent lack of willpower to find new music is shocking even me. Does it all suck? It seems like it all sucks. In any case, I've found a few songs I like, but they're kind of all milquetoast, which I guess is kind of what I'm into, I just don't like to admit it. Here they are in no particular order:

Better Things - Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings: Did you just break up with someone? Still think hateful thoughts about someone you broke up with years ago? Then this song is for you.

1977 - Ana Tijoux: Spanish class!

Release Me - The Like: Since I like Camera Obscura, I'm contractually obligated.

American Troglodyte - David Byrne: American David Byrne fan.

Shadow People - Dr. Dog: Sometimes, I just need to be reminded of Dr. Dog.

Do You Love Me - Guster: Sometimes, I just need to be reminded of college.

On Your Way Down - Trombone Shorty: Dude! The name says it all.

Rains Came - Shelby Lynne: Typical Saturday morning...

Numbers Don't Lie - Mynabirds: Amen. They don't. Also, I'm looking forward to what else this chick does. Should be good.

The Suburbs - Arcade Fire: Required.

Beg Steal or Borrow - Ray Lamontagne & The Pariah Dogs: Ray at his melancholic best.

If I were you, I'd go to elbo.ws for a listen, just in case you might like something. I'm telling you, though, I think I've turned a corner into boring musicville.

Dear boyfriend,

2010-08-14T21:19:00.002-04:00

I love you and all that crap, but damn, I wish you ate normal food. You don't like shrimp, mushrooms, beans of any kind, lentils, arborio rice, cabbage, sweet potatoes, peppers, cereal, butter, pork chops, polenta, oatmeal, goat cheese, quinoa, sandwiches, ricotta cheese, cottage cheese, bulgher, squash, most fruits, corn, meatloaf, mashed potatoes and the list goes on and on.

Basically, he survives on tacos and peanut butter, which is all well and good, except that I am hopelessly addicted to about a billion food websites that make me want to cook insane meals all the time. So, what happens is, I read a lot and we eat out a lot. I've got to figure out ways to introduce grown up ingredients without scaring him off. I guess if he doesn't like them, he doesn't like them, but who doesn't like lasagne? Risotto? MASHED POTATOES? Seriously.

I read these every day and lots others when I remember. Don't read if you're even remotely hungry.

Smitten Kitchen
Alexandra's Kitchen
Framed
The Kitchn
Serious Eats
Slashfood
La Tartine Gourmande
Orangette

This is why I love Emma Thompson

2010-08-11T21:26:00.000-04:00

So, I turned 29 and all that shit.

2010-08-07T12:50:00.002-04:00

Yup. Last week. The night before, the BF told me that he'd gotten us a hotel room in town for a night of luxury because my favorite thing to do is bitch about the poor quality of our mattress while refusing to do anything sensible about it, like, oh, purchase a new one. Because then what would I blame my intrinsic lethargy on, myself? No. Anyway, hotel room, yay! (Forgetting to make arrangements for dog, not so yay. So, Zeb came with us.) I was happy to fall asleep old and wake up older without back pain and with free breakfast! Woot!

I spent the rest of the day lazing about at home as I took the day off from work (we're not really allowed time in August since it's the start of the semester, so I played the birthday card) and went to dinner with the fam at Cheesecake Factory, a totally out of character choice for myself, but I dunno, it's what I wanted.

Which leads me to this terrible revelation. I have eaten out for eight (8) consecutive meals. At restaurants. Like full blown meals. There are several reasons for this, last four day work week Wednesday lunch celebration, pre-birthday dinner, all day birthday gluttony, and then the unexpected day trip (not good reasons, more on this later) which resulted in another all day eating binge. All of this leads me to this. I need these.

I'm like a rare B-side

2010-07-24T22:57:00.004-04:00

I've managed to get this song stuck in my head for a few weeks now. Not sure where I came across it, but it's been downloaded and added to the iPod and is in heavy rotation.

Mixtape - Tift Merritt via FiftyCentLighter

Oh, mixtapes. What a wonderful thing. I, of course, remember actually making tapes. Countless Maxells or whatever my dad bought that I would help myself to, holed up in my bedroom, painstakingly planning playlists and gathering resources (records, tapes, cds and now MP3s). I'm pretty confident that the mix tapes and cds I've cobbled together for others over the years are pretty horrible, but, I think that's what has resulted in me being the recipient of totally awesome mix masterpieces. I think people felt sorry for me.

When you're the child of two music dorks (one a high school band/orchestra director and the other an elementary music teacher), you listen to a lot of stuff that a typical child of the 80s/90s might have been spared. Like, do you know all of the words to every musical (stage and screen) from 1940 on? I do. Pippin anyone? Like, can you hum most of the parts to Sibelius' Finlandia? Maybe you can, but I would say that most of my contemporaries were studying different classics, e.g the Stones and the Dead.

Enter friends who don't let friends listen exclusively to KOMA (local oldies station) when they're 16. Into my life came many a wonderful cassette, each with its handwritten track list. I learned about non Brown Eyed Girl Van Morrison, The Specials, De La Soul, Indigo Girls and Ani (before I knew I would go to lesbian central college), The Breeders, Joni Mitchell, Sonic Youth, Handsome Boy Modeling School, Chuck Prophet, Brian Eno, Portishead, and a lot more I can't think of at the moment. There's nothing quite like the first listen, anticipating the next track, hearing the tape click over and over and over. I suppose CDs are good too, but there was something about the pause of the tape as it flipped sides -a very pleasant suspense.

Sounds nerdy, but mix tape creation is so intimate and scary. It's a unique intersection of perceived familiarity with the intended and musical taste. Sometimes the results are magical, sometimes disastrous, but always musical (at least).

Now, excuse me while I try to track down Taj Mahal's (Clara) St. Kitt's Woman.

We're liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiving in a den of thieves

2010-07-23T09:16:00.004-04:00

Dear indie world,

I am currently watching 500 Days of Summer. I know I'm like a year late, but better later than never. I'm really looking forward to inevitably regretting my decision to cut bangs a la Zooey.

puppy love

2010-07-20T06:58:00.000-04:00

Can I just take a moment to say how much I love my puppy? Which is fortunate, because he's cost me a shit ton in the last six months. Little dude is sweet, goofy, floppy, clumsy, snorey, snorty, clompy on the wood and tile floors, curious, inquisitive, protective (but not too much) and all around lovey. And, when he climbs up onto my chest when I get into bed, I can breathe in his delightful puppy smell and it just makes my whole everything so happy. I will not mention that he has selective listening and behavioral skills, chews up towels like it's his job, cries like a maniac when we leave him, barks at a bird flying across the front yard from inside, sheds like all get out, inflicts massive welts with his nails when he jumps on you (even if you've only been out to check the mail), pees on his own paws, hogs the covers and it goes on.

But, overall, dear Zeb, you are a gem of a dog. Right now, you're sleeping on the (super ugly, but we can't bear to get rid of it since you are so attached) rug, roughly two times the size you were just a few months ago. Your little body heaves with each breath, your tail twitching, your tiny snores. Love.

Have you had one of those days when

2010-07-19T22:21:00.003-04:00

you just need a nice glass of red (box) wine to take the edge off (before you take something a little more serious to take the edge off/slip into unconsciousness) while you make (microwave Lean Cuisine) dinner for one while tuning into The Bachelorette? Then you need this:

Giant Wine Glass - Holds a Full Bottle of Wine!

Only $11.97!*

*Plus shipping.

Someone has a birthday coming up... hint: its me!

Sick Day

2010-07-19T11:00:00.002-04:00

I'm not sure what's up, but it's like my body is revolting against me. (Note, I did not say that my body is revolting, Shain.) I only slept about three hours last night, am all headachey and blechy today. Blech, blech, blech. I made some toast and went to spread my Great Value brand strawberry preserves and fished out a strawberry with stems and leaves attached. It almost made me cry. Typically, I buy Bonne Maman, but not on my current budget. Sadness. Right, so, my plans for the day include crying over food, reading a Tami Hoag novel and willing myself to go to work at some point. We're on 10 hour per day, four day weeks for summer, so I feel super guilty missing a whole day since they're soooooo long.

In the meantime, it seems like the kind of day to listen to this on repeat.

Well, it's official. Life is kind of sucking balls right now.

2010-07-17T09:15:00.003-04:00

Work is simply out of control. So many things I neither can nor should enumerate, but needless to say, I'm committed to exploring other employment opportunities. Pretty much anywhere. Pretty much either in higher education human resources (specifically benefits administration) or general kickassedness. I keep waiting to get a book deal like every other blogger out there, but alas, no dice.

It's about 100 degrees here daily + 1000% humidity which leaves everyone sweaty zombies. Thank the lord for central air, but even that doesn't zap the sapping nature of excessive heat (They keep saying that on the news - excessive compared to what? It's Oklahoma in July. Duh.). To keep my brain and body cool, I've been holing up under the vents perusing blogs with people who have their shit together. I want to be one of those people. I just want to get my poops in a group. It's not that bad, I just think (hope) it could be better. It being my sense of accomplishment when compared to an imaginary bar contrived by me, which is never a good thing.

Right, so, I've been reading Hither and Thither from start to finish. It's lovely and inspirational and confirms my contention that a regular brunch can cure anything. Unfortunately, there's literally nowhere to brunch that's worth a damn in Norman.

keeping it all in perspective

Disclaimer - I'm sure none of these feelings have anything to do with the fact that I turn the big 2-9 in mere weeks. It's totally cool that I've accomplished very little aside from a sizable collection of sale shoes in my 29 years. I've still got all of next year to tick off the things I'd planned before 30... house, real, actual vacation, permanent partner in crime, iPhone, six months of savings, my last killer hangover, twice daily flossing, the ability to tell my family no, etc.

Nice to see you too, dick.

2010-07-10T21:02:00.002-04:00

Last night, the BF and I headed up to the Diamond Ballroom in OKC to see my beloved The Hold Steady (yes, that sounds weird). All was well as we sipped $5 24os Modelo (not too bad) until I saw a familiar sight. Or shape, more specifically. This dude off in the distance had an enormous melon. Like huge. I thought to myself, dang! That looks like the ex-boyfriend's head. Poor guy! Then I noticed another dude with a similarly outrageous head. And then I knew. The exbf (and older brother) had descended upon OK from on high (aka New Hampshire) to grace the Sooner state with his presence. Yippee. I have not seen him in about three, three and a half years. In fact, just last month I celebrated four years of break up (thanks!).

Yet still, I totally panicked. Mainly because they had this relatively good looking chick with them. And I am superficial and insecure, so you can see how this goes. After observing the group for a couple minutes I deduced that she was the older bro's date and that she's only dating him for his money (he makes bank). I immediately texted (yeah, I just used that as a verb, shoot me) those who would understand and tried to drink my gigantic beer with shaking hands. This kid rocked me to my core and left me for dead, essentially. And now, here he is, pretending to be cool and like THS (yeah, right). In any case, I calmed down, finished my beer, and enjoyed the show.

I kept urging the current BF to move closer to the stage with me, but he refused because he's super tall, so I scooted up and wouldn't you know it, I wound up about three people behind him. So, I steeled myself and moved forward to tap him on the shoulder. He turned around and I waved. We couldn't hear anything, obvs, so we couldn't say anything. He looked stoned out of his mind, so maybe he didn't recognize me or hates me so much that he pretended not to know who I was. In either case, it was awful. Seriously, dude. We were together for seven years, lived together for three of it and you pretend you don't know who I am?

Oh, for fuck's sake. I don't even know what to say about this other than, damn! But I hope he's happy and all that bullshit. I guess.

OH HELLS NO!

2010-07-07T13:05:00.002-04:00

Dudes, seriously. I was sitting at my desk pushing my (very soft and shiny) hair out of my face, brushing my hand across my beck in the process. That's when I felt it. A HAIR. GROWING OUT OF MY NECK. Like it got lost on its way to my head. FOR REALS. What I'm feeling can only be described in all caps and ameliorated with liquor. Hello 29 (although, you're still technically a month away).

Current Obsessions

2010-07-03T12:42:00.004-04:00

It's all rainy and crappy today. Buckets and buckets of rain soaking through the roof, the yard, the dog park, my motivation to do anything remotely productive. So, instead, I troll the interwebs looking for distraction/inspiration, which leads to a desire for things.

Like I need this album: Anais Mitchell / Hadestown.

Listen to "Wedding Song"* and tell me it's not perfect for listening to on repeat on a rainy Saturday during a recession. I dare you.

Also, I need these shoes.

What are these adorable creations, you ask? Well, they're Biviel BV2525 and if they didn't cost like $160, they'd be mine. ALL MINE.

In the meantime, I will read my library books. Which are free. Except I probably owe fines.

*via Direct Current