Hubby, I am sorry.  I am sorry that on any given day of the week you are able, with 96% accuracy, to predict what I am going to wear.  Furthermore, I am sorry that this is not due to some complex OCD schedule of ‘the green shirt on Tuesday and the black stripes on Wednesday’ I have going but instead, is because you just have to think of what I wore the day before…because I wear the same thing every. single. day.  I am even more sorry that apparently my current one outfit leaves much to be desired.  When a friend came over for a playdate the other day, after not seeing me since before the holidays, she took one look at me and exclaimed, “Wow! Pregnant!”  Great.  Just great.

It’s true, at 9 weeks I look like I am in my second trimester already and this outfit, my one outfit, does happen to consist of oversized maternity clothes.  And when I took a good look in the mirror I saw that she was indeed being extremely generous because I did not, in fact, look pregnant; I just looked really fat.

And so, Hubby, I am sorry.  I am sorry that I have looked like a heifer for the past week and a half. I promise not to wear that awful plaid maternity shirt from Old Navy anymore, at least not until it actually fits, and we will both pray that that day does not come because man, if that thing ever actually fits my body I will have surpassed the 50 pound (that’s right 50!) weight gain that I had when pregnant with Sam.  I don’t think it’s even a maternity shirt really, it’s just a really really big shirt that they put in the maternity section.  Oh, but it matters not - it’s gone.  It’s folded and placed neatly on top of the overalls that I sported for my entire third trimester.  It was so unfortunate when I saw pictures of myself in those overalls.  Hubby, why didn’t you tell me?  You have to TELL ME these things.  Just like when I saw my reflection in the rear view mirror the other day and it was really well lit, and I gasped to see what has happened to my eyebrows.  You have to tell me when the arch part is gone and has been taken over by tiny rogue hair buds!  Come to think of it, why the hell didn’t you tell me how awful that shirt looked?!  How could you let me leave the house like that?!  Do you want me to look like a heifer or is it that you’ve just given up?!  I am not a heifer, damn it, not yet at least.  We’re a good 30 pounds away from true cow state so you keep your eyes peeled and when I walk out in a tent and a unibrow you best be opening your mouth and ducking!

Labels: Pregnant

It’s pretty amazing what our bodies can do when it’s time to kick into gear. For the past 2 weeks I’ve had fairly bad morning sickness in the afternoon and evenings especially. It seems I am always on the verge but never quite over the cliff if you take my meaning. It’s enough, though, to eliminate most food from smelling range and from sight in order to avoid that hurdle over the edge of the lovely white bowl. By the end of the day I don’t even want to be upright or moving for fear of jarring myself into true illness. It was the same way when I was pregnant with Sam - constant nausea with very little result.

Last night it was clear that something was wrong with Sam. It took a long time for him to fall asleep and once he did he woke up continuously needing to be soothed, much to our frustration as we tried to watch The DaVinci Code. Around 11:00 he started throwing up and this continued until about 9:00am this morning. We all camped out in the living room with an air mattress and towels once our bed was put out of commission. Throughout the course of the evening I was vomitted on at least 4 times and then slept (when we finally did sleep) with my face in my baby’s pukey head of hair (after 3 baths it seemed we just had to let go and do our best with each round). My point is this: I was not nauseous at any point of the evening. Tired, yes. Sad for Sam, totally. Did it reek? Absolutely! Were there chunks? You betcha! And I felt the healthiest I have been in weeks.

Why this had to be passed to Sam temporarily for my body to remember what relief felt like I have no idea. It seems it was just a quick virus. But I can tell you that between him and me I’m glad to be sitting here, as still as possible, drinking my ginger ale. When I picked up a blanket for myself just now I was assaulted with a rogue chunk and its odor, and I tell ya that nearly sent me over that edge. Must not move…must hold together…And Sam is in his clean bed sleeping soundly again, as it should be.

Meanwhile I am on laundry load 5, I believe.

******Edited to add: No sooner had I hit ‘publish’ than I heard Sam on the monitor saying, “uh oh, uh oh.” I got in there just in time for him to throw up all over himself and his “clean bed.” He seems to be going from one extreme to another, feeling awful one moment and dancing on the couch the next hour. I hope the vomiting is done before we go to bed tonight. And he seems to have lost the warning whine before he throws up, so now we all have a nice element of surprise.

Load 7…

Labels: Bodily functions, Pregnant

A BIG NAP. Can I just take a 6 six hour nap? Man, SO tired. My exhaustion is so far the only sign that I am pregnant…well, I guess that’s not exactly true. Is it possible that I already look pregnant? Because seriously, my tummy already looks swollen. And it has that sort of sensitive full feeling so that I don’t want anything to touch it, including my pants. I know you show earlier with your second but this seems mighty impossible. Maybe I’m carrying a food baby…

Anyway, I’ve been trying to nap whenever Sam does so that I can FUNCTION, hence my blogging absence. Nap time used to be post and comment time so I’m going to have to come up with some sort of alternate plan for that. That plan may have to go into effect after the holidays though seeing as everything is crazy with getting ready to travel and stuff. I hope you all out there are doing well and if I’m not back before then - Merry Christmas. I hope you all have a great one. Looking forward to seeing pics and video of the kiddies going crazy.

And just let me take a moment to say that I’ve missed you in my absence. I look forward to being more regular in my reading and writing in the new year because the relationships we have are very important to me. As I’ve said before, internet friendships are surprisingly real. I speak of you to my husband on a first name basis as I do any of my in person friends, and I think it’s great. Starting a blog was one of the best things I have done as a mom, and it is because I have found all of you and your support, your humor, your stories, your comments and emails, they all keep me going. So thank you all for opening your minds to a relationship in which we’ve never actually met, because our friendship is real be it face to face or not.

Merry Chrismas and Happy New Year.

Labels: Pregnant

Yes, it’s true. But who knew that crying during Sesame Street and eating an entire crab dip was such normal behavior? I am pregnant though. It’s very, very early, as evidenced by the fact that I am still able to eat crab dip and the very idea of it does not sicken me. On the contrary, when thinking about what I wanted for lunch that day it was clear immediately that that was absolutely the only thing that I wanted and I needed it NOW. When pregnant with Sam I had constant nausea for most of the first trimester. I’m assuming it’s just too early for that right now, and I can’t remember when it started with Sam. But I’m going on the assumption that it will probably return soon so I’m trying to fill up on everything that I know will disgust me starting any day now and for the next 8 or so months. Among those things I include seafood and chicken. Chicken totally creeped me out when pregnant with Sam. Absolutely no chicken could be anywhere near me for fear I’d see those fleshy strings or, even worse, smell it. The smell was the downfall with the fish too. But I digress…

Sam is going to be a big brother. Some of you may be a little confused since it was not so long ago that I wrote this. And I have to say that even while writing it I was thinking my feelings seemed pretty normal. I was getting a little scared because I knew we were about to do this for real and it wasn’t going to just be talk anymore. I think no matter how old Sam is I will always have concerns about him when it comes to having another child. How could I not? It’s been just us and that will change. I’ve often heard of mothers wondering if they can love another child as much as their first and the resounding answer seems to be ‘yes.’ Things change, but for the better.

Hubby and I talked a lot after that post about my feelings on that matter and his. And so we entered an official state of “not, not trying” to have baby. You know, we weren’t specifically not trying…or were specifically not…yeah, you get it. And this past month we just happened to not, not try at a fairly crucial time, although honestly we did not expect anything so quickly; that seemed impossible. Not long after that I had many tantrums over the course of several days that led Hubby to wonder what the hell was wrong with me, and not long after that I wondered what the hell was wrong with me, myself. Then I bought the Early Response, took the test, went out and bought another, and then another just to be sure, and you know the rest of the story.

August. Yeah, you heard me. August. That’s when I’m due. I’m going to be that huge pregnant woman sweating and with swollen feet trying to pull off cute baby doll dresses that look more like mumus. I have always given sympathy to any woman I have seen pregnant in the summer and expressed how I could never do it. I probably thought to myself how I’d never let myself have to do it. Hmpf. So much for that. I actually have a friend here that is taking a break from trying to get pregnant to avoid a summer due date. Crazy? Mmmmm, I’m not so sure. And, you know, I thought it was really important to have an August/butt end of summer due date specifically so that I could be increasing in size as the temp rose for maximum uncomfortability. And laboring in 100 degrees certainly does sound nice…

I’m going to kick myself for saying this later but I do wish I felt pregnant in some way. Knowing how I felt physically that first time along with the surprise of how quickly this occurred makes it feel very surreal. I have to keep reminding myself that we are going to have another baby almost because I’m not totally convinced. Like I said though, I’m sure I’ll be way more convinced than I want to be very soon.

Sam’s going to be a big brother…maybe to a little sister…or a little brother is good too…

And since you all seem to be drooling over crab dip let me go ahead and share that little tidbit with you. It’s super easy, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to make it in my feverishly starving state. It’s something I remember my mom would make sometimes when people were coming over. I always remember it being served with Triscuits, so that’s what I did.

Crazy Pregnant Lady’s Craving Crab Dip
You need:
1 package cream cheese
1 can crab
1 can baby shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 bottle cocktail sauce
Worcestershire Sauce, optional (wow, I had no idea that was spelled that way)
Crackers

If you are using Worcestershire, mix the pack of cream cheese with a few teaspoons of the sauce. Spread the mixture in a layer on a large plate. If you skip the sauce just spread the cream cheese on a plate. That’s what I did in my mad panic and I didn’t really notice a difference in the taste when it was done.

Drain the two cans of seafood and mix together with about 1 bottle of cocktail sauce, depending on how big of a bottle it is. Spread this mixture over the cream cheese. Oh yeah, I think you can also top it with a little lemon juice if you want…I forgot about that…that would have been really good…damn…

Grab box of triscuits or other cracker thing. Submerge in dippy goodness. Stuff face. This recipe is particularly good when the only reason you have the ingredients on hand is because you intend to make the dip for a playgroup you are hosting and instead decide it should be all yours.

Enjoy!

Labels: Pregnant, Recipes

I’ve been a totally bad blogger lately. I’m bad about posting, bad about commenting. I haven’t written a seriously thoughtful post in…I dunno, have any been thoughtful? There was a day when I was all reflective and stuff, and that day seems to have passed. I do have some post ideas in mind for some time soon - a response to the article in Mothering about toy guns and violence, more thoughts on mom cliques and middle school behavior among the best of us, but I’m just not feelin’ it today…maybe tomorrow. We’ve just got a lot going on over here. We might be making an offer on a house on Saturday, which is really exciting and scary. The house search has been time and energy consuming. Hubby’s got a case in court right now and has been coming home so late sometimes that he doesn’t even get to see Sam for the whole day, which is sad for him and killer for me. Sam and I hosted out first play group today which made me a crazy, cleaning, baking freak for the past 4 days. And there’s more too. Want a hint?

The other day for lunch I made myself an entire crab dip thing - the one with a layer of cream cheese and then a layer of cocktail sauce mixed with crab and shrimp; it takes up an entire large plate. I ate over half of it with crackers in one sitting and was hungry again a few hours later.

******edited to add another hint:

Oh yeah, I cried during Sesame Street yesterday when Ernie sang the song about how he’d like to visit the moon.

Labels: House, Pregnant

Raising a little boy is so…strange. Sam’s moods are so fleeting and extreme. One moment he is grunting and yelling at his truck that will not stay up on the couch when he puts it there, screaming and turning red in the face in aggressive frustration. The next he is head butting me with his mouth wide open for a kiss, he lays his head on my leg and smiles as I rub his ears while he whispers sweet nothings, aka babble, to my lap. I think I’m in for it. He’s got me right where he wants me. Is it wrong to believe I have the sweetest baby imaginable? The best? Because I do…believe that, I mean.

Here are some highlights from the zoo today, the highlight being the ice cream. This is not unlike the face he makes for that kiss.


My two boys.

And for the five of you that care, we’ll be headed to the in-laws for the 4th so there won’t be an 80’s Sunday this week. We’ll pick up where we left off next week.

Happy weekend and Happy 4th!

Labels: Pregnant, Toddler

Yesterday, for Father’s Day, we went to the Please Touch Museum. I had read that they had a farm exhibit specifically for children under three. They also have a storytime in the afternoons once a week, so I was considering getting a membership and going often if Sam enjoyed our trip. The Please Touch Museum is fairly small, very seventies in style. I think this is because they have plans to open at a new location in 2008, so there is very little going on there as far as renovating or making any major improvements. Everything is just a little old and a little grey and a little smelly. Sam was fascinated.

This place is so very well designed. I would have loved it as a kid and I could see that the kids around me loved it too. They have a water table exhibit where the kids put on smocks and play with boats and water machines. They have a house where the kids use “tools” to hammer boards onto the walls, a Sendak “Where the Wild Things Are” exhibit where a kid can pick up a Max costume at the beginning, and an Alice In Wonderland exhibit complete with the Mad Hatter’s tea party as well as the flamingo croquet. Strange gadgets, toys, and puzzles are everywhere. There are little doll houses the kids can play inside with vacuums and a construction center with bricks, construction plans and wheel barrows. And the Farm exhibit for very young kids was adorable. Sam had a blast placing all of the play radishes and corn into the wheel barrow and then emptying it, riding the tractor, and staring at the strange rubber pig. He also enjoyed the puzzle table in the storytime room, which made me realize that was an entire genre of toys that we have completely missed – he now has 4 puzzles. He crawled through the whole museum at a feverish pace, checking out everything, waving to everybody, and finding anything with wheels, stealing said wheeled object from whatever child had it, and proceeding to push it through the museum just like at home. He loved it. I got us the membership. Easily a place to spend an afternoon to get the kid all tuckered out.

As I sat there watching Sam play with his big knobby circle puzzle and watching kids working so hard at their tasks, I commented to Hubby that the whole thing had a very Montessori type of feel. We’ve been considering a Montessori school for Sam when he is ready for it, but I figure we have a lot of time to consider what we want. 3 years old, right? So during his nap I decided to look into schools here in Philly just to start to see what was available…and then I freaked out. Most Montessori schools begin their toddler programs at 18 months old and take in applications one year before the kid would be starting school. That means that if Sam was going to be 18 months old by September (which he will not be) I would have had to apply to schools for him last September when he was SIX MONTHS OLD. Have I missed something here? Was I supposed to be thinking about schools already? How can I possibly make a decision about what type of education would be good for my child when he is 6 months old? All of a sudden I feel like I am behind on this only because Hubby and I don’t know what we want for him yet. So it is horrifying to find out that should we decide on one thing or another, it may turn out we made that decision too late.

To make matters worse, I looked at an application for one of these schools and it totally left me with a rancid taste in my mouth. Among the typical “why do you think your child would excel here” types, they ask when he started talking. Why does that matter? Are you telling me you are going to consider this when looking at his application for admission? Is he in a race? It also mentions that the child will be brought in for an evaluation in which he is observed in the classroom to see if he is able to do tasks “appropriate for his age.” So essentially, Sam would be tested, his skills evaluated, his behavior scrutinized and compared in order to determine if he should be accepted. We are talking about a child under the age of two here, and I feel like I did when applying to college.

Let me say that I think this problem has nothing to do with these schools being Montessori, but being private schools, schools that require applications because they are so sought after. Problem is, if Philadelphia is anything like Chicago (is this just an urban problem or is this the case in other areas as well?), there will be an application process for nearly all decent schools, public or private. Aye, there’s the rub. We are having to put our little guys (and our parenting) in competition to ensure that our children can go to a school where they can learn. Parents are afraid that if their child can’t recite the latin names of his favorite bugs then he won’t be accepted into a good PRE-SCHOOL and his life will be ruined. No wonder acceleration is the trend.

I just want Sam to be able to be a child. I’m not into this whole sign him up for classes that will enhance his motor skills via a rigid program/drill him with flash cards/turn play into work movement. I’m just not. He’s a baby. He will learn to do these things by living (that’s why I was considering Montessori). But now it seems that by choosing this path for us I am putting him behind what the rest are doing, and that may hinder him, not because it’s right, but because there’s competition among toddlers and parents are afraid for their children’s education. I’m not sure what the answer is. At the school where I used to work in Chicago they did their admissions based on a lottery system. I don’t think I understood why or appreciated that until now. This babbling has at least taught me something about what I will be looking for in a school when that time comes (whenever that is – I’m totally confused now).

I trust that Sam will figure things out his own way; I don’t need to drill him, force him, or accelerate him. A few weeks ago we were playing with this toy that I made for him. It’s an oatmeal canister with a slit cut in the top just big enough for a poker chip. This is one of the only times I have actually tried to “work” with him on a task. I would hand him the chips and show him how to place them in the slot so they would fall in. I always tried to make him interested in getting the chips through the slot while he was always much more interested playing with the lid and trying to figure out how to get it on and off. On this particular day he was having trouble getting the chips at the right angle to go in the hole, or he wouldn’t let go at the right time. I kept trying to show him and he was getting frustrated. Finally he pulled the lid off of the can, threw in the chip, and slammed the lid back on top. He’ll work it out. And I was so much more proud of that decision than I was a few days later when he actually started putting the chips in the “right” way.

Labels: Learn More Every Day, Pregnant, Toddler, Toys