Fat

That is the stage right in between "normal self" and "oh, look, what a cute pregnant girl." The stage where you're not obviously expecting, but you groan just a little when you have to change out of your yoga pants and get into your regular jeans, even though they have 1% spandex. It's the "wow, those holiday cookies were not kind to her" stage, right before you look cute-pregnant.

I ran into Bonnie on New Year's Eve. She's my pregnant buddy, but I haven't seen her in months. We attended the same fun party (a family party with an East Coast countdown--I will say, that is the WAY to do it!!). Bonnie is 5 months along. She's adorable anyway, but now pregnant, she's got this cute, little bump right in front. It's perfectly round and cute. In a tiny way, I'm glad that I don't see Bonnie more. Because, I on the other hand seem to have just...exploded around my entire mid section. I want to wear one of those shirts that simply say "pregnant" on them, as sort of a mumbled explanation of why my pants appear to be cinching me off.

In St. Louis, I had these friends, Lynn and Lance, who were my go-to peeps for self esteem during my pregnancies. Let me back up. During my first pregnancy, I gained almost 55 lbs. True story. Well, my sweet husband loved me anyway, bless his heart. He did, however, make a little joke as we were getting ready one morning that should have stayed quietly inside his head--"Hey, wouldn't it be funny if you made beeping noises when you backed up?" Our bathroom was tiny and crowded back then, but still. If he hadn't offered to shave my legs that I could no longer reach...he would have been in serious trouble. It's been seared in my brain ever since. Suffice it to say, I don't necessarily turn to to him, fishing for prego compliments. Enter: Lynn and Lance. They are friends who used "glowing" and "beautiful" and "you make heels look good even 9 months pregnant" very liberally.

I miss them.

Have you seen "Monsters vs. Aliens"? If so, you'll recognize the guy at the top. His name is Bob. I feel like Bob.

PS: Bonnie, are we still on for that playdate? ;)

PPS: Lynn, I may be calling soon.

Resolutions

It's 3:41 a.m. Instead of having my pregnant Super Spy Chick dreams, like usual for this time of night, I am sitting on my couch in new, red snowman pajamas, awake. I'm not blaming the pajamas, let's be clear. It's just one of those nights where you find that disturbing dreams of your husband taking over your blog have morphed into conscious thought. To do lists, the post-Christmas Gymboree purchases, and...New Year's Resolutions.

We reviewed our 2009 goals last night as a family, to see how we measured up. Little Buddy did fairly well, what with "get some teeth" and "stay cute" on his list and all. But, it's that time of year that thoughts turn inward, and "upward" in a way. The resolve to do better, do more.

What to put on the list this year?

It's a delicate balance, this ultimate "To Do" list. It has to be attainable. And specific. I can't just throw "Be really patient this year" on the list. I originally penned "gourmet cooking", "write down more of what the kids say" and the ever elusive "catch up on scrapbooking" onto the mental list. Then I thought maybe I should just put "Simplify" and scribble everything else out. I do intend to compile my journal into one, consistent place (from the various Word documents, notebooks, and planner pages on which they currently reside) so that my posterity will have some good reading once I'm gone. And, I have every intention of having a baby next year, and, hello, that is like the mother of all accomplishments. No pun intended.

At least I can cross any obligatory "lose weight" kinds of goals off my list, at least for the first half of the year. Though, I could be interested in a pair of those new tennis shoes that are supposed to tone your butt.

It's just that once you put it down in writing, your whole level of commitment is elevated. It's like you're accountable to those black-and-white goals, which I suppose is the whole point. And so, friends, that is why, for tonight, the List is staying in my head.

Christmas 2009

So, maybe I'm a little Grinchy. Just a little. But it's only because I truly want my kids to know and appreciate the true meaning and spirit of Christmas. I want them to associate Christmas with the Savior's birth and doing kind things for others. I love to give them presents, believe me, but I don't want that to be important to them. I know this subject can be wildy controversial, but...we don't really do a lot with the whole "Santa" thing. They understand the basics, of course. I don't want them to be complete nerds. I answer their questions fairly, I think. ("Well, it's generally accepted that he lives at the North Pole.") They don't write to Santa to ask for presents--this year I suggested they could write letters to tell him the good things they've done this year, and they don't make lists of gifts they want. We did, however, go to visit Santa. As we were walking up, a thought suddenly occured to Girlie, "Hey! Maybe we can tell Santa what we want for Christmas?" (Girlie wanted a dog, Sammy requested a pod racer--a driveable one). It made us chuckle to think that our sweetie figured it was an original thought. After the visit, we talked about how Santa seemed so happy, and that was probably because he spends his time doing nice things for other people and doesn't that give you such a happy feeling inside?

Christmas Eve was wonderful. We had a feast of Chinese food (I surrendered a 32 year tradition of clam chowder, because Chinese just sounded better to my pregnant tummy), delivered more treats to friends, sang Christmas carols, and had our own little production of the Nativity.
Assigning parts went a little something like this:
Me: Okay, we'll have Little Buddy be the shepherd.
Girlie: I want to be Mary.
Sammy: I want to be Obi Wan Kenobi.



Little Buddy offered Baby Jesus his lamb as a gift. It really was quite tender.

Christmas morning didn't start until 7:30. I was up early. I layed there for a while, then jumped up to add a few forgotten items to the stockings and clear out some memory on my camera. I was sooooo excited when the kids started stirring. We had a fabulous time opening presents (this was the first time in our nine year marriage that I managed to surprise J with his gift, despite Sammy's subtle "Daddy, we did NOT go anywhere this morning"), and a late breakfast of Santa pancakes. (See, I'm not totally Grinchy!)

Little Buddy's favorite gift was a booster seat to welcome him to the Big Table.

We had a beautiful Christmas day, so we celebrated our sunshine with a holiday walk. Gotta soak up the vitamin D when we get the chance!

We had a fantastic dinner with our sweet friends Christian (who is like J's secret brother, their personalities are so eerily similar) and Mandy and their boys. It was full of laughing and completely amazing food.

It was a wonderfully peaceful and fun Christmas. Our first Christmas without extended family was indeed a success. I was in my favorite place to be, surrounded by my favorite people in the world. Couldn't be happier.

A Christmasy, Pregnant Mess

This body is not 25 anymore (the age of my first pregnancy) and I can feel it. I seem to have lost more and more brain cells, and quicker than ever. On Wednesday night I hosted a dessert party for 25-30 friends, and I actually called one of my friends (that I know and like) by the wrong name. Even as it left my lips I was mortified. I called her Kathleen, and I don't even KNOW any Kathleens here. How do you even recover from that?? This happened with my last pregnancy, too, and I cannot even tell you how embarrassing it it when your brain just cannot process. A friend would walk up, "Hey, how are you feeling?" I'd smile, "Hi..., um, feeling pretty good....uh....Joan." (Okay, I had to use a fictional name, because I don't want any of my real friends to know that their name slipped my mind. Or, at least I don't think I have any friends named Joan. Maybe I do and I just don't remember).

Another delightful pregnancy happening? Spider veins. I'm not sure how I'm getting stinkin' spider veins when I've only gained 6 lbs in 13 weeks, but somehow the spider vein stars aligned and drew my number. The solution? Super sexy support hose. Oh, yeah. I'm working those industrial strength panty hose (which, incidentally, had better wear like iron if they have the audacity to charge $53.00 for them). I've also got your run-of-the-mill total nausea and exhaustion still going on from about lunch on.

I don't know if it's my 'advanced' age that is making this pregnancy so rough, or because it is a boy (I'm NOT saying it's a boy, I'm just saying that my boy pregnancies played out like this). Let's all think girl thoughts, though, since we're on the subject. Because, so help me, if I only get to plan one wedding...

At the beginning, they asked me if I wanted all these screenings for deformities, etc. I declined them all, since I'd love this baby no matter what, until she said, "Well, if you change your mind, let us know soon so we can schedule the ultrasound." An extra ultrasound? Another early peek at my baby? Sweet. So, for the price of two extra blood draws, I got to spend 10 minutes spying on my little medium-shrimp-sized baby. I know this is my fourth time with this process, but it was as AMAZING as the first time. I watched in complete wonderment at the tiny being that was crossing his/her ankles, curling his/her tiny fist underneath his/her chin in "Thinker" position, and napping in 45 second increments. It was love, truly. And my heart grew.

Christmas truly is the season for love, if there is a season. I hope that all of your homes are filled to the brim with it. That you have peace and joy spilling out your doors, down the street to your neighbors, and being carried by the mail service to the hands of those you adore. Which reminds me, I think I have the majority of my Christmas cards sent out. Maybe not. I can't really remember. If you don't get one, blame my pregnant brain. Merry Christmas anyway.

PS: The picture above are my cookies this year. Oreo balls, peanut butter cup cookies, and peppermint pinwheels. For recipes, click here.

And This Year's Red Wall is......

...the FIREPLACE WALL!! (cheers) So it shouldn't have been a surprise to J that I wanted to paint. After all, when we were just dating, I gave him fair warning that I was the kind of person who would paint a wall red for Christmas. Maybe he just didn't believe that someone would do that. After all, the first time I told him about my field, he looked very surprised and said, "I didn't know that was something that people actually did." Anyway, Christmas is the reason that, in my St. Louis home, the entry way turned red, followed by part of my kitchen, followed by all of my kitchen. In successive years, of course. That trend was actually the reason we moved to Seattle. We had to start over in a new house.

The red is rendered a little bright and garish in these pictures, but it's actually quite beautiful. The name is Roasted Pepper at Home Depot, in case you don't believe me. The huge red jingle bells on my tree are one of my very favorite decorations. I found them as door hangers at the dollar store. I detached the hanger, sprayed the bells with glossy red paint, then finished them off with a jewelry hemp loop for hanging and some candy-cane striped bows. I love them, and they were so easy to make!

I attached the garland swag in three places using white artists tape. It is archival quality, low tac tape that doesn't leave sticky residue. It's my favorite. I looped jewelry hemp (you could use yarn) around the lit garland (so the tape wouldn't damage the garland), and then used the tape to adhere it to the mantel. Then I added the berries.

This is a weird angle, but clearly all the window light makes it hard to get a decent picture. This is in the archway going into the living room. I put three small nails in the wall (one in the center, one on each end), and used the garland itself to wrap around the nails to keep it in place. The kissing ball is from Crate & Barrel.

For the stairs I used the garland itself to wrap and twist around the bannister. Then I just wound ribbon through it and stuck in picks of berries. The big bow was last. I bought it that way, and it came with an enormous twist tie on the back.

I hope that your Christmas is merry and bright, and that you get just as much JOY out of holiday decorating as I do. More to come!

It's Good to Be Back

I took a rather long break from blogging. Most friends figured out why when they read my last post. It was because the only things that were really on my mind were things like my complete and utter nausea, how everything smells bad to me, and how I'm pretty sure I'm already getting fat. Now that the proverbial beans are spilled, there's a sort of freedom to share my thoughts again. In case anyone cared about my thoughts.

Thanks for all the well wishes. I appreciate them, truly. It's fun news to share, especially when you think your husband might still be in denial. :) Bless his sweet heart. He's actually been a gem-- home since Tuesday and cleaning like a pro.

I feel horrible. The kind of daily, overwhelming nausea that makes you wish you could throw up, because in a twisted sort of way, you think it might make you feel better. And, truth be told, the only reason I'm blogging right now is because I'm waiting for it to be a respectable time so I can go to sleep. There's something...wrong about going to bed before, say, 8:30 p.m. Or maybe I'm just scared of waking for the day at 4:00 a.m. Speaking of that, I've been waking up early. Way. Too. Early. Thank you, my kumquat-sized baby. Like, 5 a.m. Yes, I know many of you do that on a regular basis to punish yourselves with running or working out. That's not my problem.

Grocery stores are gross places for me right now. Do you even KNOW all the bad smells that live in grocery stores? The ice beds of fresh Seattle seafood, the dairy case, the butcher block--I have to twist my face up so my nose is completely cut off. Otherwise, since I don't actually throw up, I would totally be dry heaving right there in the aisle. My shopping trips have become weird little expeditions where I run in with a general idea of what I need. Then I almost-literally run through the aisles, just hucking food into my cart. I get way more than what moderation would politely suggest (17 boxes of jello? Seriously?) in the hopes that it will be a very long time before I come back again. I come out with a lot of weird food (because I needed those Sour Patch Kids) and a very long receipt.

Anyway. My apologies to anyone that may have been a victim of my pregnancy weirdness these last 10 weeks. Just in case I looked like I was going to vomit at something you said or I accidentally rammed you with my shopping cart.

I'm going to bed now.

I "Passed" the Test

October 19, 2009

J questioned my sanity during a, uh, little bit of a rant the other day. Then he asked when my period was, which made me blow up even more. But a couple days later, I started to wonder the same thing. I went to the calendar, and I was due, any minute. But I didn't feel it. In fact, I started to suspect something else. The next day I went to Target after 1st grade pick up. I grabbed a pregnancy test, and then some Halloween candy to cover it up. The cashier lady stared hard at my purchase. I couldn't blame her--Little Buddy was rocking back and forth in his seat, yelling and trying to free himself from the seatbelt, Sammy was hanging off the side of the cart, whimpering because he didn't get to ride in the basket, and Girlie was in the basket due to a spill at school that left her in borrowed, oversized black sweatpants. I bet she was looking at me and my pregnancy test and thinking, "Seriously?"

I'll take it in a couple days. I'll just wait a little while. I have this, just in case, I thought to myself before pulling up to the house and sprinting to the bathroom. A bright blue plus sign smiled up at me, and I warily smiled down at it. Oh boy. Here was the test. And I 'passed.'

How to tell J? I wasn't sure. Maybe I'd wait for a while, then throw out "Hey, this isn't the ice cream's fault. I'm three months pregnant." Or, so many times I'd casually thrown out "I'm pregnant" just to freak him out. I thought it would be really funny to tell him the news just like that. Right before he fell asleep. Then I thought that it might hurt the baby's feelings that I didn't do something creative, so I pulled the half-asleep kids out of bed and had them do a little video clip. When J came home that night after helping with the youth at church, we crawled into bed.

"Oh, you've got to see this funny footage of Little Buddy at dinner," I said. I held the video camera so we could both see. There was Buddy, laughing hysterically at the peas on his fork. Then came this clip.

J got his "freaked out" face on. That's the one where he gets really quiet and flushed, and his eyes kind of bug out. I think he may have even stopped breathing at some point.

"Are you serious? "he stared at me. I smiled and waggled my eyebrows at him.
"Tell me, are you pregnant?" he demanded.
I could tell that my coy games and smiles were not being fully appreciated.

Yes, I told him.
"Say 'I promise,'" he demanded. 'I promise' is the ultimate test of truth in our household.
"I promise," said I.
He took a moment to process, then asked me how I felt about it.
I grinned. "I'm happy! How do you feel?"
He gulped just a little. "I'm not sure."

So, yes. It's true. I, at least, am tickled pink to add another one to our wild bunch, and I'm feeling as well as can be expected, which is not good at all. We were going to wait to tell people (after all, last time we waited for 16 weeks), but the kids figured it out. And despite the whole "this is our family's secret for right now" speech, Sammy walked out the door, saw our neighbor and said, "Our mom is pregnant. Did you know that?" We figured we should be the ones to spill the beans.