What a day...

I had a doctor's appointment this morning at 10am and at 2:30pm, I am finally getting home. The doctor wasn't satisfied with Cash's movement and strapped me up to her dinosaur of a machine to track his heartbeat and movement. When she still wasn't satisfied I was sent off to triage at the hospital. Deep down I knew everything was ok, Cash was probably pouting because he was hungry and his brother wouldn't shut up about juice. He was also wanting to keep a low profile because I was seconds away from backhanding the nasty grandma in the waiting room who had no control of her own grand kids and scolded me because I told B I didn't want my kid jumping on and licking furniture like her kids were doing. (Yes, I said licking.)

So Jeff left work, and after we dropped B off at Jeff's parent's house, we headed to the hospital where I was hooked up to a shiny, new machine that basically interviewed my unborn child and assessed he would (fortunately) not be making any early debuts and (unfortunately) we would not be expecting any tax bonuses for the next year.


As predicted, everything is okay. So you might be asking yourself, "Ok, great, so you went to the doctor and everything is ok. Want a high-five?" Well, the main reason I wrote this was because I needed some type of forum to share some of the oddest holiday decorations I have ever seen. I certainly couldn't say lackadaisically, So I was hanging out at the hospital and you'll never believe what I saw... without some people assuming the worst.

Before we could go to triage, I had to hit up registration. The registrar had the most bizarre country music playing from her bright pink iPod and she continued to proudly display her Christmas decor. The first thing I noticed was the Christmas tree with a baby doll strapped to the top in place of a star (sorry, no pic). Then I noticed this little gem on her desk. What I am sure of is that it is some kind of handcrafted Christmas tree. However, I am not sure if that is Santa's...beard hair...adorning the tree.



Lordy Lou, Jeff was mor-ti-fied that while I was answering mundane health questions I was surreptitiously manuevering my phone's camera behind her computer. Luckily, the tacky country music drowned out the click of my camera.

Goals, plans, and resolutions

Just because I am totally philosophically opposed to New Year's resolutions (along with leggings on adult women and tossing my cookies) doesn't mean that I don't think about changes I'd like to see in the upcoming year. While you will never catch me seriously uttering the phrase "My New Year's resolution is..." because I think it is just setting me up for failure, here are some things I see on the horizon for 2010.

1. Expanding my family. Okokok, so that one is a soft pitch. Sue me.

2. Being more social. I was reading this lovely blog today and I think I found my hermit soulmate. Now this will be really tough because I am not one for presenting my newborn a la Simba on the mountain top. However, I intend on getting out there with my friends more often as that is what makes me feel most human. Lord knows how much I will need that as I anticipate being the target for baby barf and infant boy pee.

3. Reading more. You might think that since I am an English teacher my job is to read a lot of great books. Actually, my job is to read a lot of papers. You'd think with all the student reading I have to endure that I would want an incredible book with solid writing to distract me. You would be absolutely correct.

4. Cooking more. Wait, scratch that. Get Jeff to cook more. Yeah, I like the sound of that.

This isn't a very inspiring list, is it? I mean, you would think there would be a lot of things that I want to do considering I won't be pregnant for most of 2010 and I will done with my graduate program, but I really just want to snuggle on the couch with my boys, eating our take-out pizza, and catch up on Tivo. I am so happy in my little cocoon that I think I resolve to continue with my happy little life.

I mean, unless you are going to give me a couple thousand dollars and then I resolve to take my family on a trip to Europe.

You need this gift...

Hands down, B's favorite gift at Christas was from my dad. He saw it in National Geographic (who knew they were toy experts now). It's a voice changer that can make you sound like an alien, robot, or astronaut. I wish I recorded when he first opened it and was playing with it. Oh well, this is a couple hours later and you can tell from his reaction and ours how entertaining it is.

I am not a very good Japanese girl, because this is one of my only pics from Christmas. Fired.

What I won't miss about being pregnant

I have wanted to make this list for a long time, but I thought I would wait until I had Dos. Then I remembered that I wouldn't remember to do this list because the last few bits of my brain would be wholly and completely obliterated by a newborn.

This is in no certain order...

1. Peeing. We all pee, but I pee all the time. And when I say pee, I really mean PEE. You know when you go to the movies and after drinking a super-ginormous soda you are willing to assault anyone who gets in between you and a toilet? You know, when you question the damage done to your insides for waiting so long? Ok, you got the picture. Yeah, well, that is me whenever I need to pee. And it hits from out of nowhere, one minute bladder is fine and the next my bladder is invading my sinus cavity. If this isn't bad enough, pregnant peeing is incredibly anti-climatic because after all that, well, there isn't much.

2. Eating. Ok, again, with the things everyone does. But much like peeing, eating is something that is a different animal when hosting a growing fetus. In the first trimester it is all about gorging or not gorging--depending on the nauseous scale. In the second trimester it is all about avoiding the sudden hunger pangs that can seize your stomach. In the third trimester eating is incredibly depressing because you are soooo hungry, but after two bites you are painfully full. All food is Chinese food because you know you will be hungry again in fifteen minutes. (If you aren't peeing.)

3. Other women. Sorry to be brutal ladies and throw everyone under the bus, but women are bitches. If it is your first pregnancy you are assaulted with the "Just wait til..." and "You have no idea..." Basically other women are calling you stupid. During this pregnancy I realized that the fact I had already gone through the process of carrying a child, delivering a child, and raising a child did not make me any more wise. Not only am I dumb, but I am not nearly as brave, strong, clever, worthy, etc. as other women. It's remarkable that women don't have penises because we are all about pissing contests with one another.

4. Maternity clothes. WTF, I hate this crap. Why isn't it okay that we walk around in mumus? My tops are too short, my pants are too long, and everything is so overpriced.

5. Vocabulary words. My closest friends know how much I hate the word... Preggo. The word hurts and embarrasses me.

6. Political correctness. If you've made it this far you know that I am not PC. Being with child means people feel the need to ask you some bizarre questions. I've been asked how long I plan on working, the insinuation there is a bad place for any one to go. I've been asked how I plan to raise my son in regards to religion and politics. (Yes, for real, I've been asked that.) I haven't figured out a PC way to tell some to go eff themselves, but for right now I enjoy the reaction I get to, "I'm sorry, how is that any of your business?"

7. Moodiness. Not mine, yours. I swear to the greatest baby of all, Baby Jeezus, that my hormones have a way of rubbing off on others. People share secrets and get weepy with me or they get short and saucy at the drop of a hat. Then, the greatest part is I get blamed for it. I vividly recall being a bride-to-be and people just waiting for me to explode and be Bridezilla. I can't have a bad day without hearing the phrase, "Well, you're pregnant..." tossed lightly around like it explains everything about other people being losers.

8. Smelling. I can smell everything. Everything. If you farted in the room 45 minutes before I came in, I could probably tell you what you had for lunch the day before. Everything. This is not good considering I work with teenagers.

9. Nesting. I have serious OCD habits, so nesting can be incredibly distracting. Couple this with my inability to maneuver around furniture or how easily I tire now, and you can see how this nesting crap is really inconvenient. I tend to get frustrated when I can't finish a task, so I take a break which doing so allows me to think of the ten other things I need to do. What ends up happening is I get 1.4 of that list done and I hand off the rest to Jeff. If Jeff does not do them to my satisfaction, because I am watching, I instruct him on how to be successful. After two or three times of this you understand why Jeff avoids me.

10. Being stupid. I can't remember anything (which is a good thing that my bladder and stomach are so insistent) and it is driving me crazy. Scary thing is that it is only going to get worse when I have the kid. I remember crying on the telephone because I spaced a doctor's appointment not long after having Bradley. I am NOT a person who forgets appointments. Thank goodness it was for my gyno because the scheduling lady was super nice, "Oh honey, it happens all the time. You just had a baby. Your brain will come back." Luckily it did. It took a frigging year, but it did. I find myself losing it earlier on in my pregnancy, but I cling fast to what warm and fuzzy receptionist said.

Considering number 10, I am sure there are LOTS of others I am missing. Clearly, the silver lining in all of this is despite the apparent drama and torture, I score a baby out of this experience. I can definitely handle that.



Now, please excuse me while I go pee.

Thoughts on mommy guilt

I am definitely nearing the finish line with this pregnancy. I have scheduled my c-section for February 1st, which means I have less than six weeks left. Between the two of us I don't think I will make it that far; I think Cash is going to be a January baby. I am into that third trimester hell which means a lot of the stress of pregnancy becomes finely focused. For instance, rather than stressing about a lack of sleep because getting out of a low bed is painful, I am starting to make my bed on the bedroom couch. Instead of stressing about my short-term leave details and the impact on finances, the budget is written down. I also got my suitcase down from the closet this morning. Yikes, right?

One thing I have really been struggling with is how much guilt I am feeling. When I became a mom I realized why moms wield the weapon of guilt so well: they have plenty to spare. I felt guilty that my body had to be cut open to deliver my son. I felt guilty that I couldn't feed him well enough in the beginning. I felt guilty about wanting to go back to work and then I felt guilty (oh so horribly guilty) about going back to work. And if it wasn't about being a mother I felt guilty that I had given a large chunk of my marriage up to turn my back on my husband for our son. You see, Jeff was really the one who wanted to start a family. I didn't know if I was ready because I was concerned that my love for our child would take precedence in my heart for my husband. I won't lie, it did, but that's what makes things better for Jeff and me--we know how much harder we have to work to focus on one another. I know why people break-up after having kids: they are unable to focus on their partner.

Anyway, while being pregnant with Cash I have had a whole new sense of guilt. Talking with moms I understand this guilt is normal and, like many seeming negative points of parenthood, it will pass. So here is my confession: I can't help but look at B and think how much I am about to betray him. Furthermore, I worry that I will resent Cash for any hard feelings on B's side.

And the whole thing is silly because Bradley is a kid, so resiliency is high. He is normally a patient, caring kid who loves to tickle baby toes. When I punish him, he doesn't go off and cry in the corner, he comes to me for comfort. I have never seen him sulk and his jealousy over things is usually resolved by sharing rather than flat out taking. The whole thing is silly because nearly every single person who has a sibling has been able to get over the intrusion.

So then I focus on the part where I say I am going to resent a baby. I think this because I don't know Cash the way I know his older brother; what I know about Cash can be counted on one hand. I know that he is more mellow than his brother (he is a roller, not a kicker). I know his "hours of operation" are worrisome--nothing like waking up at 3am to the wave pool that is my stomach. I know that he prefers to curl up as much as possible in my right side. But that's it. And then guilt settles in because I look back at my journal entries that I wrote to Bradley while I was pregnant and I had this kid all figured out--how the fact he would kick-a-fuss then stop cold when Jeff would put his hand on my tummy meant he was playful (and he is), how he disliked when strangers would touch my stomach (he is protective of me), and how sporty he would be with all the kicking he had going on. I feel guilty because I had B all figured out, but then again I had B all to myself and no other child to chase after.

I know how silly it is. I know that I will get to know and love Cash. I know that B will get over any resentment. I know they will be best buddies. I also know I will find other things to stress about: like developing a relationship with Cash that is as strong as mine and Bradley's, like ensuring that Bradley and I continue to have time together, like how another baby will test Jeff and my marriage, like how I will convince Jeff that despite all my concerns a third baby is a really good idea.

B the Grinch

B has been asking to see Santa for awhile. When I explained that Santa is bigger than the Christmas ornament, he nodded. When I explained he will be asked to sit on Santa's lap, he said "ok". When I asked him what he was going to say when Santa asks him what he wants for Christmas, he was very specific with "toys".


When we pulled into the parking lot at Bass Pro Shop (because the picture is free and they are hella organized), B could not contain himself in his carseat. However, when we entered the store and he spied Santa from across the store he wasn't so sure of himself. We thought waiting in line and watching all the other kids would be good peer pressure. We talked him into wanting candy from Santa and then got a tentative ok to walk to Santa, but that was all bologna.


Alas, no Santa picture this year. If we did, it would have looked something like this--except my kid would be a little less Asian, the opposite gender, and not wearing a Cosby poncho.

Surprise!

I surprised Jeff and Bradley with 4D ultrasound pics of Cash at place called Peek of You. We went to a similar place when we were pregnant with Bradley and paid a small fortune, but the picture quality was much better. Jeff and I had originally decided not to get 4D pics for Cash because of the cost, but there was a serious special that couldn't pass it up, so I secretly made an appointment.

It was such a good experience for Bradley. Even though I know we will never be able to fully prepare him for a little brother, I want to do everything I possibly can to try. The minute Cash came in to focus on the screen B pointed to the screen and exclaimed, "Baby Cash!" Later on he curled up next to one of the monitors and pointed to his nose, eyes, and ears.

This kid is seriously smooshed in there. There were some pics where he had a flat cheek or nose. The tech said his cheeks are so big he already has jowls. Yay for chubby babies!!

Ready for something crazy? Look at the middle picture above, then check out the picture below of B. See a resemblance?

MMMMsoup

Tonight we had tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner, thanks to Chef Jeff. No soup for B because second degree burns are not good for the holidays. He was fascinated by the soup-eating process and wanted in on it, so I let him try. And it was goooood.


What made it even better was some soup drops fell onto the plate looking like Mickey Mouse.

Well, I promise, it did look that way until someone put his finger in it.

Some of my favorites...

The three amigos

My friend Katy is a fantastic photographer. When I found out she was coming down from her cold mountain home in Colorado to do some photo shoots in AZ, I was ecstatic. I had been wanting some shots of the three of us. Does that sound horrible to you that I wanted pictures before Cash arrived? It has been glorious having B and I am going to miss our threesome, I am not going to lie. Though I am thrilled and impatient to meet Cash, B made Jeff and me parents. It has been an incredible time in our lives and I wanted special pictures to document it. Katy did a marvelous job.

Want to see more? Go here. There are even more here.

Just call me Emily Post

When I was a little kid the post-Christmas or after-party blues would strike fast. My brother and I were not allowed to play with our new toys or spend our money until we wrote thank you cards for our gifts. It was the worst and we haaaaated Dad for being such a killjoy. He only eased up when we became teenagers saying cards only needed to be sent out for cash gifts.

When I got to high school graduation my dad made me do a spread sheet of who sent money, how much, and the date on which I sent the thank you card. (Are you catching on to where I get my Type A personality?) However, by the time I got to college graduation, and then my wedding, I was a thank you card fiend. At holidays and birthdays I write thank yous for money and am mortified if it takes me more than a week to complete the task.

As a child, when I sat agonizing over the appropriate four lines of thanks to include in a card, longingly looking at my toys, Dad would argue that he was doing me a favor because people remember thank you cards and would be more inclined to continue giving gifts if I was courteous. He was right. Recently, we received an invite to a birthday party and I am not keen to attend because not only have we never received a thank you card for past gifts but wedding (WEDDING) gift thank yous were never sent. And just like my dad said: I remember. (Coughcough...OkyouwererightDad.)

Perhaps I am being incredibly old-fashioned, but I know my boys will be tortured with the arduous task of being immediately grateful.