Eenie, meenie, minie, mo.

So, I post on the mecca of social networks, Facebook.  (No irony lost on me that the majority of you reading this will get here via the aforementioned site.)  I post "status" updates, pictures and the occasional witty remark (humor me).  I shamelessly post pictures of my newborn.  She's a major attention-getter, which is the point.
If you've read anything prior to this post (or know me maybe even remotely) you'd know that my third child came as a serious surprise.  A friend just told me the baby is so cute she almost wants to have another.  I advised against it.  She said maybe she'll lobby for a puppy instead. 
L'il Geel is gorgeous and a very good baby.  I love her little smiles and the mysterious baby babble.  The day-to-day frustrations are far outweighed by the joy and wonder of this little person.  But take me back a year, before I knew her--knew of her even--give me a choice and I might have chosen the puppy. 

Read More »

done and done.

I am so done.  This would come as no surprise to anyone who has seen my Fred Flintstone feet in the last few days.  My excitement over flip-flop weather was quickly extinguished by the struggle I had actually fitting my swollen sausage-like feet into my flip-flops.  Disappointment is a gross understatement.  I cried real tears.  I will admit, though, that it is a slight improvement over actually bending over to stuff my almost-as-swollen feet (several weeks ago) into my winter boots.  At least I haven't gotten out of breath wriggling my puffy dogs under the flip-flop straps.  And for my friends who have suggested crocs:  I have two pair and they have been just as difficult to squeeze into.

In addition to that particular brand of fun, I've been having a blast with indigestion.  (Here is where the faint-of-stomach may wish to skip to the next paragraph.)  Gone are the halcyon days of mild nausea and few discreet burps.  Tonight I am desperately hoping I will vomit just to relieve the gross discomfort of continually burping up chunks of dinner.  I can only assume my newly limited stomach capacity has made it more difficult to fully digest what I eat in a timely manner.  That and the never-ending Zumba class (still) below, continuing to toss the salad I ate for dinner, hours after I ate it.

And speaking again of baby movement; what in the world is this kid trying to accomplish in there?  I still cannot fathom why a tiny infant would need to move THAT much.  It is more and more uncomfortable every day and almost disturbing how active this child is.  I am thinking of investing in one of those baby straight-jackets I saw the other day--euphemistically called a swaddler.  Genius!  If I only I could make use of it now.....

Read More »

The karate kid.

In trying to get organized, I come across a paper from my doctor that I am supposed to use to track fetal kicks/movement from now (28 weeks) until the end of the pregnancy.  The idea is that as you notice patterns in the baby's behavior you should focus on a specific time of day that the baby seems active and track that activity daily.  (Although as one friend pointed out to me: the further along you get, the larger the baby gets, the less room to move. Therefore,  fewer movements to track.) 

I think I would prefer to focus on when this kid DOESN'T move.  I like to enjoy the moments (seemingly few) that I can sit and not be bothered by the incessant Zumba class inside.  She moves so often and so acrobatically that I find myself getting utterly annoyed with her and praying that she's not one of "those" kids--that can't sit still for 3 minutes and has to get into everything.  I'm way too lazy for that kind of child.

I would prefer to sleep through the night without waking up to the 4 am action scene that is being filmed in my uterus.  I can't quite imagine what would require so much shucking and jiving at all hours of the night.  Of course she has no sense of day or night right now, but the time of day (or night) is really irrelevant.  What does a tiny human need to be doing at any time at this point?  Kicking, elbowing, tucking and rolling. (Ok, maybe not, but that's what it feels like.) 

On the other hand, I guess I may be concerned if there were an equivalent lack of movement.  Possibly. But right now I crave the quiet.  The calm.  The still.

I wish there was a way to get this karate kid to take up tai chi.

Read More »

how are YOU feeling?

My new favorite question.  And I don't mean that entirely sarcastically.  Many people who genuinely have some level of concern for me have asked me that recently--and not unexpectedly.  It is "the thing to ask" nowadays.  (Not for society in general, just for my circle of family, friends and maybe even acquaintances.)

Just for the record, the stock answer (however true and obvious) is "Large and uncomfortable."  That should cover me for the next three months.  And the three after that will be "Sleep-deprived and tired.  Extremely and utterly so."  That will get me through to September.  After that, the field is open.

What I don't get into with most people is that I am not only feeling large and uncomfortable--I am also feeling tired, stressed, guilt-ridden and diffident.  All or some at any and many given moments any day.  Tired?  Of course, the insomnia is back.  Guilt-ridden at our complete inability to come up with a name for this child.  We can't even find one that we kinda like.  I have heard of people who have taken their nameless newborn home from the hospital and found a name three days later!  (Is this possible?  What is the statute of limitations on filling out that Social Security paperwork?)  I can hardly imagine having a nameless tiny being in our home!  Cooing and fussing over Baby Girl Doe.  Really?

The diffidence and stress?  Well, horrible as it sounds, this kid is still first and foremost in my mind: a logistical nightmare.  Where will we put her and all of her adorable and space-hogging accouterments?  As yet, no more square footage has magically appeared in our house.

How will I work?  I can't not work.  Thankfully my job is somewhat flexible, but that initial flexibility will have to be replaced at some point (probably sooner than I'd prefer or be ready for) by a routine that I can't quite imagine right now.

Who will care for this child (during the day) if it can't be me?  And with that, how will I (such an avid breast-feeder with Moo and Slim) nurse this baby?  I have openly admitted that I am WAY too lazy to pump, and absolutely positive I won't have the time.  And will however-long-I-can-nurse-her be long enough??

Will she be as good a kid as my first two--both of whom I was there for every day, nursed until they were well over a year, and loved and wanted from the time they were known to be?

I could probably work myself up into a half-decent panic, but that is why I stop at "Large and uncomfortable."  I don't need to go there.  More specifically, I'm there a lot lately, I just don't need to drag everyone else there with me.

No really, I'm feeling fine.  Thanks for asking.

Read More »

sugar and spice....

so.  no snakes, no snails, no puppy dog tails.  i was pretty sure that this was a boy, mostly based on the fact that this pregnancy has been identical to my last (with Slim) and entirely NOT like my first (with Moo).  now i'm pretty sure that I have no clue what i'm sure of.

can i just be grossly honest and say that i cried?  not at the ultrasound.  not even right afterwards.  not even entirely because we've just renewed our ride on the estrogen roller coaster for what is essentially another eighteen or so years.  i'm not even pretty sure why i cried.

i was fond of telling people that i was not ashamed to say that i wanted another boy--although i honestly can't even say exactly why.  Lord knows, Slim isn't the easiest-going of little men.  a loving and generally very happy guy, but not the lowest on the maintenance scale.

 i was so fond of telling everyone what i "really" wanted because i was so sure that i was going to get it.  and i think a big part of that was because i was so not wanting to have another baby, but since that point can't be argued, at least i can have a preferred gender.  selfish?  absolutely.

but i don't write this to be popular.  i haven't even written ANYTHING in so long--partly because i wasn't sure how honest i could be (even with myself), but that's kind of the point of me starting this to begin with.  (i won't digress into one of those why-i-started-this-blog posts.  that is for some future post.  it has flowed in my head frequently recently, but it just feels kinda cliche and i'm not ready to go there yet)

another cue for the waterworks?  a name.  i HAVE to name this baby.  i have always felt a need to know the gender of my children before they are born.  i want to be that much more prepared and talk to them and feel that bond, but i am especially desperate this time.  I NEED to feel that.  i want to talk to her and feel like i know her already.  and i kinda do, but i still want that connection.

i saw her face today.  it could be any baby face, but it is mine.  arm squashed up against her head.  laying in utero, just like her older siblings lay in their beds.  so much all of ours.  so much not just mine to be upset about.  she will be something like the other two and nothing like them.  and i will love her no matter what.

Read More »

"To sleep, perchance to dream- ay, there's the rub."

insomnia.  not complete and total insomnia.  sort of, intermittent, insomnia.  temporary, i guess.

every night i wake up.  if not of my own accord (cursed is the bladder of the pregnant woman), then by that of my children; up at some point in the night:  the potty break, the thunderstorm, the croupy cough.  last night the coughing had Slim up.  upset that we could not hear him calling in his hoarse and almost non-existent voice, i decided to sleep the rest of the night on his floor next to his bed.  perfect for falling back to sleep.

bedding on the floor aside, even left back on my own comfy pillowtop, i am destined to lay awake for at least an hour or sometimes two, pondering this new life as "mother of three," or contemplating the mountain of laundry needed to be done, or suddenly gnawed by the thought of the report I forgot to submit at work that day.  also perfect for falling back to sleep.

tonight i may lay awake, excited to be going to New York tomorrow with some girlfriends.  i have this sort of "bachelorette" feeling--a last hurrah of sorts.  when your two oldest are eight and six you occasionally have the opportunity to go somewhere without them, and feel wholly like someone's friend, like a pal, like a woman who doesn't not (for once) need to hold up the other end of a conversation about ear infections, school lunches or poop.  tomorrow i will be that woman.  in six months I will not.  at least not for another 5-6 years.

so tonight i shall try my best to sleep (although it occurs to me that this is usually the least effective way of falling asleep).  whether or not i dream?  who cares.  sleep is the thing.  sleep.

Read More »

it all comes out in the wash....

another baby-doctor appointment today.  twelve weeks.  May seems so far away and yet I already feel like I have been pregnant so long.  the midwife I saw today warned that she might not be able to hear a heartbeat right away but that she would get out the ultrasound to check the baby if we could not find it.  she had barely touched down on my stomach with the wand and bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum at 150 beats per minute in that squishy-sounding watery rhythm.  life.

I am at the back end of the first trimester and seeming to feel better in the past few days.  less of the constant nausea, maybe a little more of the ravenous hunger, but generally better.  not quite so tired ALL the time.

so I have finally pinpointed my greatest fear in all of this.  it is not labor (a third go-round passing another likely 9+ lbs of tiny human).  it is not the sleepless nights or even revisiting diaper-changing.  it is the increase in laundry.

I HATE doing the laundry.  occasionally I find it therapeutic to get lost in folding:  watching some show on the DVR, folding, organizing piles, matching socks.  but mostly I hate the process.  turning the loads from washer to dryer, carrying them upstairs, finding the energy.  and even if I get some strange pleasure out of folding things, I absolutely can't stand putting it away.

well now I'll be having even more fun.  tiny things that are barely able to be folded, let alone folded into neat piles.  and stuffing them into shallow drawers?  I can hardly wait.  and not only is folding this stuff a pain, but it really should be washed separately, creating some crazy exponential increase in the entire operation.  for one tiny being:  onesies, teeny socks, blankets, bibs, burp cloths, hats.  all in need of their own laundry side job.

Read More »