This one is better, but I had to crop the hell out of it because the mounds of backfat. Now you're all looking at my backfat.
I am not even going to tell you what Jeff told me to get me to smile.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
The End is Nigh
It's the last weekend of being pregnant with Cash! Yay!!!! I was so sure that I wouldn't make it to my due date, but it looks like I am going to have a February baby after all. I had Jeff take a couple pics. The first one captured the pure agony of being 9 months pregnant. Actually, I was giving the stink-eye to one of the dogs.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Lucky me
Today was my last day at school before I go on maternity leave for the next few months. I don't write a lot about school for a few reasons. First of all, I could literally go on all day about my job--the ups and downs. I am convinced teachers and cops have the BEST work stories. I also don't write about school because it's work and I know there are a lot of work-meets-blog horror stories out there. Anyway, the last couple days are definitely blog-worthy.
I warned my students from the first day of school that I was pregnant and they have watched me balloon since then. I am really lucky with the schedule I teach: honors AP English and Student Council. I have nice, smart kids, who don't act up. I must have good karma.
Last week, my StudCo kids threw me a surprise shower with homemade lasagna, salad, and cookie cake to eat. We listened to Glee music (a staple on the iPod rotation) and I opened presents of diapers, bath toys, and adorable baby clothes. It was incredibly thoughtful and fun. I wish I had taken pictures.
Today, in my last period class I was presented with a Starbucks gift card and cake. The note with the Starbucks money said, "I hope you have a great maternity leave. No one really thinks about the mom, it's all about the baby, so I thought it was appropriate to give you this." Ummm, tear. The cake...
There is also a hugely pregnant woman. Me? Maybe. It could be Addie or Dewey Dell from As I Lay Dying, or the pregnant woman from The Road.
I warned my students from the first day of school that I was pregnant and they have watched me balloon since then. I am really lucky with the schedule I teach: honors AP English and Student Council. I have nice, smart kids, who don't act up. I must have good karma.
Last week, my StudCo kids threw me a surprise shower with homemade lasagna, salad, and cookie cake to eat. We listened to Glee music (a staple on the iPod rotation) and I opened presents of diapers, bath toys, and adorable baby clothes. It was incredibly thoughtful and fun. I wish I had taken pictures.
Today, in my last period class I was presented with a Starbucks gift card and cake. The note with the Starbucks money said, "I hope you have a great maternity leave. No one really thinks about the mom, it's all about the baby, so I thought it was appropriate to give you this." Ummm, tear. The cake...
This thing is truly a masterpiece and, yes, it was decorated my seniors in high school.
See Oedipus with his gouged, bloody eyes? Yeah, we just finished reading the play last week.
The fetching beauty? Well, at my last school there was a traveling trophy given to any female teacher called an "effing B", if you get my drift. I always lament to my kids that I never received that award, despite being called a beauty multiple times, but not quite fetching. It is part of my lesson with the kids that if they are ever going to go down for telling a teacher off or being a general jerk to go BIG. They love that story.
There is also a hugely pregnant woman. Me? Maybe. It could be Addie or Dewey Dell from As I Lay Dying, or the pregnant woman from The Road.
Thought even went into the type of cake. You see, it's marble chocolate, like Janie from Their Eyes Were Watching God who is half-black, half-white. The chocolate icing represents their novel study of Invisible Man, Color Purple, or Beloved (whichever one they picked). They pointed all this out to me as they cut into the cake. How kick ass of an English teacher am I?
I know I will miss my kids horribly. I know I will miss them even more when I am covered in spit-up with two hours of sleep under my belt and a screaming kid is demanding to be fed and another whiny kid wants a snack.
I am so lucky because I have the greatest jobs: school mama during the day, boy mama at home.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
How my second son got his name
One of my favorite men is my Grandpoo. My mom’s dad was this really tall, blue-eyed, salt of the Earth, manly man. He never apologized for anything--his bad language, how much he enjoyed being outdoors, or how much he loved me. Good lord, sometimes I feel bad for my brother because it was indecent how much he favored me.
He wasn’t perfect by any means. Like I said, he had a filthy mouth—clearly a proud tradition if you know my mom and me. He wasn’t politically correct and was incredibly conservative. To top it off, he spent most of his life being a proud bigot. I can only imagine what he would think of President Obama. I am sure he didn’t approve of my dad at first, I’m not sure if that is why he didn’t go to their wedding, but I know he eventually came around when I was born. I’d like to think I was a nice bit of karma for him considering I bet he never thought he could love a person of mixed race the way he loved me.
I think my grandfather was the first man I fell in love with because I was always the center of his universe when we visited Kansas, he treated me like a little lady but still expected me to clean the fish I caught, and he always had some clever comeback or joke to make me laugh. It’s no wonder then that I married a man with spectacular sparkling blue eyes, a strong work ethic, and rough hands like my Grandpoo.
One of my last visits to Kansas, when my Grandpoo was still alive, I sat up late one night. It was hard to sleep knowing that there was a machine breathing for him. I happened to look on the table next to the chair I was curled up in and saw his wallet. I opened it up and found it empty except for his veteran’s card and a picture of me as a toddler clutching a stuffed lamb. Do I even need to tell you how much this affected me?
I always wanted to name one of my sons after him, but I was stumped. His full name is Theodore Roosevelt McClure. I couldn’t do much with the middle name and I didn’t like the fact Theodore has so many variations. I really liked Theo but Jeff said he would never be able to look at our kid without thinking of the Cosby show. Point taken.
When the movie Walk the Line came out my mom told me that my grandfather would have loved it since he liked Johnny Cash so much. I remembered the music we sent him for Christmas—anything from Johnny Cash to Willy Nelson. I thought of all the times I accompanied my Grandpoo on errands when I visited. I would sit next to him, bouncing around the dusty roads in what seemed like an ancient pickup truck, with its sweat-stiff interior and its mud-caked floorboards. I don’t remember if any music was actually playing on the radio, but he would whistle or sing along to whatever country tune rattling around in his head. Sometimes he would make-up silly lines to get me to laugh and when I did he would wink at me and give me a half-smile.
I actually came up with the name Cash when we were pregnant with Bradley. Jeff was wearing his Johnny Cash shirt; I used to tease him that he thought he was Johnny Cash due to his constant desire to wear all black.
“You know what a cool boy name would be?”
“We already have a boy name.”
“I know, but the name Cash would be really cool. I want to name one of our kids for my Grandpa, and he loved Johnny Cash and so do you. I like it.”
I could tell by the way Jeff’s eyes sparkled how much he liked it, but Bradley was always going to be Bradley, so it was a moot point.
I love some people’s reaction when they ask what the baby’s name is. “Like Johnny Cash?” If there is disapproval, their voice pulls up at the end—a bit too much for a question. Sometimes I will explain and sometimes I won’t.
Is it odd that we are naming our child for someone after another person? I think it works. I love it. You know I had my doubts at first, but I don’t anymore. I definitely think my Grandpoo would like it. If he were here he might chide me and say, “Now what’s wrong with Theodore Roosevelt? You could call him Rosie,” but in the end he would say, “Caaash” (drawing out the “a” because he had a Kansas drawl) “I think it’s a keeper.”
*************************************
Now, his middle name Elliott… I am truly a product of the 80s as I grew up with the movie ET and have adored the name ever since. But I think it balances out Cash quite nicely.
He wasn’t perfect by any means. Like I said, he had a filthy mouth—clearly a proud tradition if you know my mom and me. He wasn’t politically correct and was incredibly conservative. To top it off, he spent most of his life being a proud bigot. I can only imagine what he would think of President Obama. I am sure he didn’t approve of my dad at first, I’m not sure if that is why he didn’t go to their wedding, but I know he eventually came around when I was born. I’d like to think I was a nice bit of karma for him considering I bet he never thought he could love a person of mixed race the way he loved me.
I think my grandfather was the first man I fell in love with because I was always the center of his universe when we visited Kansas, he treated me like a little lady but still expected me to clean the fish I caught, and he always had some clever comeback or joke to make me laugh. It’s no wonder then that I married a man with spectacular sparkling blue eyes, a strong work ethic, and rough hands like my Grandpoo.
One of my last visits to Kansas, when my Grandpoo was still alive, I sat up late one night. It was hard to sleep knowing that there was a machine breathing for him. I happened to look on the table next to the chair I was curled up in and saw his wallet. I opened it up and found it empty except for his veteran’s card and a picture of me as a toddler clutching a stuffed lamb. Do I even need to tell you how much this affected me?
I always wanted to name one of my sons after him, but I was stumped. His full name is Theodore Roosevelt McClure. I couldn’t do much with the middle name and I didn’t like the fact Theodore has so many variations. I really liked Theo but Jeff said he would never be able to look at our kid without thinking of the Cosby show. Point taken.
When the movie Walk the Line came out my mom told me that my grandfather would have loved it since he liked Johnny Cash so much. I remembered the music we sent him for Christmas—anything from Johnny Cash to Willy Nelson. I thought of all the times I accompanied my Grandpoo on errands when I visited. I would sit next to him, bouncing around the dusty roads in what seemed like an ancient pickup truck, with its sweat-stiff interior and its mud-caked floorboards. I don’t remember if any music was actually playing on the radio, but he would whistle or sing along to whatever country tune rattling around in his head. Sometimes he would make-up silly lines to get me to laugh and when I did he would wink at me and give me a half-smile.
I actually came up with the name Cash when we were pregnant with Bradley. Jeff was wearing his Johnny Cash shirt; I used to tease him that he thought he was Johnny Cash due to his constant desire to wear all black.
“You know what a cool boy name would be?”
“We already have a boy name.”
“I know, but the name Cash would be really cool. I want to name one of our kids for my Grandpa, and he loved Johnny Cash and so do you. I like it.”
I could tell by the way Jeff’s eyes sparkled how much he liked it, but Bradley was always going to be Bradley, so it was a moot point.
I love some people’s reaction when they ask what the baby’s name is. “Like Johnny Cash?” If there is disapproval, their voice pulls up at the end—a bit too much for a question. Sometimes I will explain and sometimes I won’t.
Is it odd that we are naming our child for someone after another person? I think it works. I love it. You know I had my doubts at first, but I don’t anymore. I definitely think my Grandpoo would like it. If he were here he might chide me and say, “Now what’s wrong with Theodore Roosevelt? You could call him Rosie,” but in the end he would say, “Caaash” (drawing out the “a” because he had a Kansas drawl) “I think it’s a keeper.”
*************************************
Now, his middle name Elliott… I am truly a product of the 80s as I grew up with the movie ET and have adored the name ever since. But I think it balances out Cash quite nicely.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Love is...
...making an evening out of taking bad pics of each other.
...watching hours of Grey's Anatomy with your couch bound partner.
...doing 80% (mmm, ok, 89%) of the laundry.
...bringing cookies and milk to bed for a midnight treat.
...not laughing at your wife who vaguely resembles a whale whilst getting in and out of bed.
...enduring endless pizza dinners.
...saying bye and giving kisses every.single.morning.
...not crying/yelling/punching a wall when my hormones go OFF.
...still telling me I look cute.
...working endless hours to provide for our little family.
...what I feel for this guy ----------------->
He is the best. I don't tell him that enough.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Dreams
One of the things I miss about teaching ninth grade is the persuasive essay unit. Somewhere in that lesson I had my students watch MLK's "Dream" Speech. Every.single.time students were completely consumed by his words; it is rare for complete silence and overwhelming intrigue to permeate a freshmen classroom.
If you haven't watched it in awhile, take a moment. It is worth it.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Finding Christmas
I know, we are so over Christmas, but look what I found! I told you Jeff was a better Asian than me--he took some pics.
Not a fan of the "look at all the shit I got" but...
His method was to rip open the paper and then move on to the next thing. Perhaps he was going to wait until everything was open to enjoy the present, but we made him stop and look at each item before demolishing the next present.
He was really excited about the bubble bath and wanted to open it right then and there.
Not a fan of the "look at all the shit I got" but...
His method was to rip open the paper and then move on to the next thing. Perhaps he was going to wait until everything was open to enjoy the present, but we made him stop and look at each item before demolishing the next present.
He was really excited about the bubble bath and wanted to open it right then and there.
And then we went to Jeff's parent's house and then my parent's house. It was exhausting.
Last year will be the last time we are travel on Christmas Day. We do it on Christmas Eve, too, and it is just too much. People are right when they say you have to create your own traditions once you have kids. I want my kids to be able to have Christmas in their own home and not be exhausted and grumpy from traveling. I guess that means we are making the grandparents travel, but they are outnumbered now, so I won't feel too bad.
Morbid or realistic?
I feel sorry for anyone just wandering by my blog who reads this as their first entry. I am not usually as morbid as I am about to me, in fact I think I am being realistic.
The other day, Jeff and I were driving and we passed the hospital where Cash is to be born. It is kind of weird driving by because something BIG is going to happen at that exact location. I am going to set eyes on my son for the first time somewhere in that building. Before he and I can look in to each other's eyes, they are going to have to cut me open first. I know we tend to be blasé about sections, because women have them often enough. But I am cognizant of the seriousness of abdominal surgery (plus I watch a lot of Grey's Anatomy). So as we drove by I considered the fact that something could go wrong during my c-section.
I turned to Jeff and laid down the rules, "You are going to think I am weird, but don't judge just listen." He rolled his eyes--I am not sure what he was anticipating.
I told him that I want all my parts donated and then I want to be cremated. Some of my ashes should be spread in San Francisco, Brighton, Mesa, and then the rest kept in a pretty green urn. I don't want to be buried, no funeral, I would rather have some kick-ass party where good music plays, yummy food is served (cupcakes!) and my friends only wear black if they are trying to look skinny. The only sad-ish song should be this one.
Then I told him that I want him to get remarried, but his new wife can't have one of those cutesy names ending with that "ee" sound: Buffy, Trixie, etc. The boys can call her mom, but she cannot adopt them. Every year on my birthday they have to do something fun, something I would enjoy like shoe shopping, going to see a play, or avoiding football on TV.
I could tell he didn't want to talk about it, but like the good man he is he let me ramble. I am not planning on dying, but who does? I am not trying to be a buzzkill, but if you know me I tend to have a very Buddhist perspective on death (suck it Brit Hume), which means I don't get overly emotional about the whole circle of life bit (cue Lion King).
I am not sure why it bothers people that some plan life after death with such detail. Maybe it is the whole control thing, because hello my name is Keiko and I am a control freak. I suppose it is no different than having a will. Which by the way, if anything happens to Jeff or me, the kiddos go to my brother...
The other day, Jeff and I were driving and we passed the hospital where Cash is to be born. It is kind of weird driving by because something BIG is going to happen at that exact location. I am going to set eyes on my son for the first time somewhere in that building. Before he and I can look in to each other's eyes, they are going to have to cut me open first. I know we tend to be blasé about sections, because women have them often enough. But I am cognizant of the seriousness of abdominal surgery (plus I watch a lot of Grey's Anatomy). So as we drove by I considered the fact that something could go wrong during my c-section.
I turned to Jeff and laid down the rules, "You are going to think I am weird, but don't judge just listen." He rolled his eyes--I am not sure what he was anticipating.
I told him that I want all my parts donated and then I want to be cremated. Some of my ashes should be spread in San Francisco, Brighton, Mesa, and then the rest kept in a pretty green urn. I don't want to be buried, no funeral, I would rather have some kick-ass party where good music plays, yummy food is served (cupcakes!) and my friends only wear black if they are trying to look skinny. The only sad-ish song should be this one.
Then I told him that I want him to get remarried, but his new wife can't have one of those cutesy names ending with that "ee" sound: Buffy, Trixie, etc. The boys can call her mom, but she cannot adopt them. Every year on my birthday they have to do something fun, something I would enjoy like shoe shopping, going to see a play, or avoiding football on TV.
I could tell he didn't want to talk about it, but like the good man he is he let me ramble. I am not planning on dying, but who does? I am not trying to be a buzzkill, but if you know me I tend to have a very Buddhist perspective on death (suck it Brit Hume), which means I don't get overly emotional about the whole circle of life bit (cue Lion King).
I am not sure why it bothers people that some plan life after death with such detail. Maybe it is the whole control thing, because hello my name is Keiko and I am a control freak. I suppose it is no different than having a will. Which by the way, if anything happens to Jeff or me, the kiddos go to my brother...
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Gotta say it was a good day...
I love paydays (the day where you get money, not the candy...personally I don't think it is candy unless there is chocolate involved). One of my hobbies is making to-do lists just so I can get the rush of completing a task and crossing it off. On paydays, when I pay bills, it rivals or beats crossing crap of my shopping list.
A.n.y.w.a.y.... Today was the day Jeff and I planned to go to Costco and get our hoarding on. I told you, I am in nesting mode and a well-stocked fridge, freezer, and pantry is part of the nest. It was enough that we were going to hit up Costco, but towards the end of the day I got an email that I forgot I had been waiting for.
When we finished Cash's room I sent some of the pictures off to Apartment Therapy's Ohdeedoh. This site features kids rooms from a normal person's perspective--not a lot of Pottery Barn clones, etc. I love that they embrace things like Ikea and Target that other design sites often scoff at, because I don't think you have to go broke in order to have cute stuff. Anyway, I emailed them off and I didn't think much of it after that. If they liked it they would show it, if they didn't they would ignore me.
Today, I got the following email:
Hi Keiko,
I just previewed some of the photos you sent to us for consideration for a house tour on Apartment Therapy. Love the colourful and playful décor, but I have reservations due to the quality of the photos themselves. Wanted to inquire if you could borrow a better camera and send us some follow up images for consideration. I’d love to share more of your home in Mesa if possible!
Regards,Gregory
Yeah, so my camera sucks, but my kid's room is cool! How exciting, right? Like that my "Costco day" turned in to a "Call my cleaning lady day" and I scheduled a time for Josefa to work her magic. Then I emailed back to clarify whether he wanted Cash's room or my whole house. Response:
We’d love to see photos of your whole space as a possible house tour, if you’re interested (we are!). Thanks for the prompt reply.
Regards,Gregory
Eeek! They are interested. They like me, they really like me... I called Jeff and told him. He pretended not to be interested until I told him that his beloved cabinets would be the eye-candy of many o' wannabe decorators. I think he liked that because when I came home the house was all picked up for Josefa.
We'll see what happens with the Apartment Therapy thing...they might see the rest of my house and realize how tragically unhip I am and all efforts go to the kids' rooms. At least I get a housecleaning out of it!
Now, if you'll excuse me I have a Tivo full of Grey's Anatomy to catch up on. Hot damn! This is my favorite day in a long time! I am so sending Jeff to get me a strawberry milkshake...
A.n.y.w.a.y.... Today was the day Jeff and I planned to go to Costco and get our hoarding on. I told you, I am in nesting mode and a well-stocked fridge, freezer, and pantry is part of the nest. It was enough that we were going to hit up Costco, but towards the end of the day I got an email that I forgot I had been waiting for.
When we finished Cash's room I sent some of the pictures off to Apartment Therapy's Ohdeedoh. This site features kids rooms from a normal person's perspective--not a lot of Pottery Barn clones, etc. I love that they embrace things like Ikea and Target that other design sites often scoff at, because I don't think you have to go broke in order to have cute stuff. Anyway, I emailed them off and I didn't think much of it after that. If they liked it they would show it, if they didn't they would ignore me.
Today, I got the following email:
Hi Keiko,
I just previewed some of the photos you sent to us for consideration for a house tour on Apartment Therapy. Love the colourful and playful décor, but I have reservations due to the quality of the photos themselves. Wanted to inquire if you could borrow a better camera and send us some follow up images for consideration. I’d love to share more of your home in Mesa if possible!
Regards,Gregory
Yeah, so my camera sucks, but my kid's room is cool! How exciting, right? Like that my "Costco day" turned in to a "Call my cleaning lady day" and I scheduled a time for Josefa to work her magic. Then I emailed back to clarify whether he wanted Cash's room or my whole house. Response:
We’d love to see photos of your whole space as a possible house tour, if you’re interested (we are!). Thanks for the prompt reply.
Regards,Gregory
Eeek! They are interested. They like me, they really like me... I called Jeff and told him. He pretended not to be interested until I told him that his beloved cabinets would be the eye-candy of many o' wannabe decorators. I think he liked that because when I came home the house was all picked up for Josefa.
We'll see what happens with the Apartment Therapy thing...they might see the rest of my house and realize how tragically unhip I am and all efforts go to the kids' rooms. At least I get a housecleaning out of it!
Now, if you'll excuse me I have a Tivo full of Grey's Anatomy to catch up on. Hot damn! This is my favorite day in a long time! I am so sending Jeff to get me a strawberry milkshake...
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Lame.
No budging at all on my delivery date. I live in constant fear of wet pants. Guys, once it happens, you never shake the fear.
I think I will go into labor early. Jeff thinks I will make it to February 1.
Thoughts? Bets? Discuss.
I think I will go into labor early. Jeff thinks I will make it to February 1.
Thoughts? Bets? Discuss.
Monday, January 11, 2010
I grow 'em big
Just got back from the ultrasound and Cash is measuring a couple weeks ahead. He is anywhere between 6-7 lbs right now; Jeff figures he is on pace to beat Bradley's birthweight (8 lbs, 13 oz). I have an appt Wednesday, but something tells me she isn't going to let me budge from the schedule. She is going to let me continue with my fear of wetting my pants.
Something else, he is breech right now. I guess that isn't a big deal because of the c-section. He wasn't like that last week. However, if my ribs are correct he must have switched positions around eleven today because I seriously had to check to see if I had a rib poking out of my side.
I am in serious nesting mode as my big plans for the week consist of hitting up Costco. Seriously, I get all tingly with excitement when I add to my shopping list. How sad is that?
Something else, he is breech right now. I guess that isn't a big deal because of the c-section. He wasn't like that last week. However, if my ribs are correct he must have switched positions around eleven today because I seriously had to check to see if I had a rib poking out of my side.
I am in serious nesting mode as my big plans for the week consist of hitting up Costco. Seriously, I get all tingly with excitement when I add to my shopping list. How sad is that?
Sunday, January 10, 2010
And so it goes...
I am still pregnant. I am 36 weeks, so at this point every day feels like three. I am not complaining--wait, yes I am. Breathing, dressing, checking my email...it all takes a lot more effort. Except bitching, that takes no effort whatsoever.
I went to the doctor last week and the big milestone according to the cheerful nurse: "Now you get to start taking your pants off when you come here." Um, yeaaaahhh. That means they start examining my cervix, etc. along with the typical measurements. Last week I was 1 cm dialated and I am "starting to soften". My blood pressure, which is typically pretty good, is high, so I had blood taken. External measurements show another big baby (B was almost 9 lbs and two weeks early), so I am going in for an ultrasound tomorrow.
Earlier in the pregnancy when I discussed scheduling the c-section with my doc I had to talk her into a February 1 date, she wanted to do it in January. Part of me wanted to wait until the last possible moment in order to ensure Cash had enough time to cook, but I also thought it would be super cool to have a February baby since Jeff and I both have February bdays. I knew I would hate myself later on but I was convinced I would push through. Silly, stupid me. Now I can't talk my doc into moving it up a week (karma) and I have nightmares of my water breaking while I am in class or something.
I thought a high point of my week would be the massage I got. While my masseuse and I chatted I mentioned I hadn't been for a massage since my last pregnancy and he says, "Oh, you're pregnant? (peeks at my stomach) Your purse hides it well." The last thing a chubby girl wants to hear--especially one who is nine months pregnant--is that she doesn't look pregnant. Not to mention a co-worker of mine was acting cute and telling me how before break I didn't look very pregnant, but now there is no doubt. WTF, right?
Anyway, I made my mom take these pictures of me so I could judge for myself. I look really effing pregnant, thank you very much.
Excuse my lack of make-up, I know it isn't pretty.
I went to the doctor last week and the big milestone according to the cheerful nurse: "Now you get to start taking your pants off when you come here." Um, yeaaaahhh. That means they start examining my cervix, etc. along with the typical measurements. Last week I was 1 cm dialated and I am "starting to soften". My blood pressure, which is typically pretty good, is high, so I had blood taken. External measurements show another big baby (B was almost 9 lbs and two weeks early), so I am going in for an ultrasound tomorrow.
Earlier in the pregnancy when I discussed scheduling the c-section with my doc I had to talk her into a February 1 date, she wanted to do it in January. Part of me wanted to wait until the last possible moment in order to ensure Cash had enough time to cook, but I also thought it would be super cool to have a February baby since Jeff and I both have February bdays. I knew I would hate myself later on but I was convinced I would push through. Silly, stupid me. Now I can't talk my doc into moving it up a week (karma) and I have nightmares of my water breaking while I am in class or something.
I thought a high point of my week would be the massage I got. While my masseuse and I chatted I mentioned I hadn't been for a massage since my last pregnancy and he says, "Oh, you're pregnant? (peeks at my stomach) Your purse hides it well." The last thing a chubby girl wants to hear--especially one who is nine months pregnant--is that she doesn't look pregnant. Not to mention a co-worker of mine was acting cute and telling me how before break I didn't look very pregnant, but now there is no doubt. WTF, right?
Anyway, I made my mom take these pictures of me so I could judge for myself. I look really effing pregnant, thank you very much.
Excuse my lack of make-up, I know it isn't pretty.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Plans are underway...
In February 2011, three awesome people will be celebrating their 3oth birthdays...
You are cordially invited to come party with us in Las Vegas. Fair warning: we are not party animals, which means you will most likely be coming to hang out with us at the nickel slots, hit the buffets, and stay up late for a show or two. Then again, if my mom or brother comes you can hang out with them at the poker (brother) or black jack (mom) table until dawn.
More info to come. I want to find one of those sweet deals that includes a room on the Strip, massage, meal, and show for like $20. If you have any leads, let me know. As of right now it looks like we will be going President's Day weekend, the 18th through the 21st. Again, this isn't until 2011, I have to get to 29 first.
You are cordially invited to come party with us in Las Vegas. Fair warning: we are not party animals, which means you will most likely be coming to hang out with us at the nickel slots, hit the buffets, and stay up late for a show or two. Then again, if my mom or brother comes you can hang out with them at the poker (brother) or black jack (mom) table until dawn.
More info to come. I want to find one of those sweet deals that includes a room on the Strip, massage, meal, and show for like $20. If you have any leads, let me know. As of right now it looks like we will be going President's Day weekend, the 18th through the 21st. Again, this isn't until 2011, I have to get to 29 first.
Just so you know what I expect from you...
God, I love the site STFU, Parents. (There is also STFU, Marrieds, but I don't think it is nearly as entertaining as the former.)
I am at 35 weeks and less than a month until the c-section. It is incredibly surreal to produce an offspring and it is even more surreal that I am doing it again. Second time is a lot more stressful because I know about all of the things that are going to drive me crazy about having a newborn and I know that there are a lot of things about to hit the fan that I cannot even anticipate.
I did that freak-the-eff-out-in-the-middle-of-the-night thing where I went through our budget again to remind myself how we are going to possibly afford daycare for two kids. I am ignoring the hole in my budget where I have to go on short-term disability for the last 2/3 of my maternity leave and take a serious paycut. I pray that nursing goes well again this time because I am not looking forward to paying for formula. And I am hoping B will be peer pressured out of diapers when Cash gets here because two kiddos in diapers means
On a positive note I am trying to be much more complimentary towards my body right now. My body has been stretched and pulled this way before which means the whole stretch mark bit is less pronounced. I also recall the soggy balloon of a tummy I can anticipate post-partum, so the fact that I have a firm, tight stomach is really exciting (forget that I am in my last month of pregnancy, I take what I can get).
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