A Party

I considered throwing a last minute party tonight.

A pity party.

But I didn't think anyone would come.

And I don't have anything to wear.

And truly, I don't want to wallow in my failings or the shortcomings of the world around me for too long.

But some nights, it is oh, so tempting.

After making it through my entire first pregnancy with a smooth, unmarked belly, I confidently entered the previous eight months with little fear as to the state of my skin. But 38 and a half weeks into this journey I discovered tonight that I have been marked forever as a mother.

I have stretch marks.

I have never in my life worn a bikini.

I didn't think it was ever an option until I started training last year for the triathlon. When I found out I was pregnant the second time, I told myself that after this baby that would be my goal... to wear a two-piece swimsuit sometime before I turned 30.

Side Note:

The stipulations on this

is that it has to be to a beach

that there is no chance

of running into anyone

that I will ever see again in my life,

so basically,

it means Andy needs to take me

some place for vacation.

Now, that dream will never be realized. I am too white (and too opposed to tanning) to even think about exposing my midriff if it is crisscrossed with permanent purple lines - telling the world that I went overboard with the cookies and "let myself go" as I grew my second baby.

To amplify the horror of discovering the permanent marks of my hugeness I have an adorable and hunky husband who has faithfully got himself out of bed and to the gym five mornings of the week and now is sauntering around the house with a physique like Hugh Jackman. I'm NOT EVEN JOKING.

Do you have any idea how intimidating it is to be married to a man who has a body like that? The pressure!!! I'm not sure I can take it.

When I try and explain this dis-ease with what my body has become, everyone says, "Oh, you're pregnant, don't worry!" But that is the problem. I'm not going to be pregnant forever (please, please, please let this be true!). Soon I won't have the excuse and I'll have to come to terms with what my body has become and own up to each soft spot, bumpy thigh and flabby arm.

Okay, you are probably thinking right now that I am extremely prideful and self-indulgent and more than a little pathetic. I know that about myself. I'm working on it.

In the past few weeks I have gone up and down through the days - either having revived confidence in my ability to take on TWO little guys instead of just one or being totally overwhelmed by the idea that in a few short days (hopefully less than that!) I will be once again be consumed with a newborn.

I felt like I was just getting the hang of life as a mom, and thriving in it, only to be sent back to the beginning. I have no idea what Joey's entrance into our lives is going bring. I pray it will be joy and sweet moments, but I also know that those will be tempered with long nights, heavy diaper bags, and extra laundry.

Truth be told, I'm scared.

A second truth be told: I am so ready to have Joey that everything feels traumatic. I'm hot all the time and none of my shirts cover my stomach. My back hurts and my feet hurt and I don't care at all that my hair is never fixed because really, what is the point right now.

So I know that stretch marks aren't the end of the world, and I know that Joey's arrival will be wonderful, and I know that my body and emotions are taxed to a point that sometimes just results in meltdowns. Founded or not.

This one is probably not founded, and I am aware of that.

But sometimes, a girls just needs to get a few things off her chest.

Please hear me say that.

I know I'm being silly and dramatic.

But doesn't it help sometimes

to just go overboard?!

Let it also be known that after discovering my scars I also had half a bath of water dumped on my by a feisty toddler, had broccoli thrown at me by said toddler, made dinner to have it hot when my honey got home from school, only to discover that I got my days mixed up and he was going to be an hour later than I thought and what was once a nice hot Welcome Home! Dinner will now be a stale, reheated, not so exciting dinner.

Sooooo...

When all is said and done, I guess I did throw the party after all. Thanks for coming. Now to get down to the business of picking up the place. Parties make such a mess!

Care to make a wager?

Here is what you can make bets on:

• Joey's Arrival Date
• Weight & Height
• Jack's Reaction to the New Guy
• Who cries the most: Andy, me or Jack

Information you might like to know to make your decisions:

Joey's due official due date is March 7. I am trying to send him strong mommy-voice commands to come earlier since I am SO BORED of being pregnant. I would much rather be uncomfortable and not sleeping because I'm snuggling a newborn rather than having to pee and because I am carrying an extra 30 pound belly bulb.

Jack came two days before his due date. Lizzie had just finished a reflexology class and I asked her to rub the pressure points that are supposed to induce labor. I don't know what you think about pressure points, but that night labor started... you best believe that I will employ her skills again when I am truly at my wits end.

Jack was 7lbs 12oz and 19 inches when he was born.

When Jack was born I didn't cry (until they told us we had to stay at the hospital for an extra few hours) but Andy did. You know the cute, teary eyes. No messy sobbing for this family.

And to make your conclusions about Jack's reaction, I should show you how Jack reacted to his baby doll:

A side note:

A question really,

does anyone know why

my pictures are suddenly

coming out so grainy?

I have a simple point and shoot

that has served me well,

but my last attempts to capture

sweet moments have resulted in

these fuzzy images.

Ideas?

There are no prizes available, but if you are the winner, you will know and I will know and you can live with pride knowing that you are a really good guesser! Yay!

So, place your bets!

30 Weeks

You may have noticed that I have been a bit sporadic in my blogging the last few months. Being pregnant with a toddler is tough work!

I find myself either totally dragging and fearing the addition of another little baby to our family or completely energized and eager to take on every task that comes with being a wife and mom.

Unfortunately blogging is neither a mom or a wife task so it has fallen by the wayside.

But there is good news for you... I am now 30 weeks pregnant!

Gah!

That is 30 out of 40. Just a short 10 weeks to go!

Once the baby actually arrives I can go about the business of collecting myself and figuring out what to do with a house of three men. I am quite sure that I will find it nowhere near as daunting as I keep thinking it will be.

Anyway, 30 weeks.

Yesterday I looked at my calendar and realized how close I am to the end of being pregnant. Somehow, having that nice round number in my head made me feel so secure. Instead of feeling like a giant balloon, or like I had let my pregnancy weight gain spiral out of control, I felt totally reasonable and like I looked just right for being 30 weeks pregnant.

To celebrate a day of not feeling disgusted with my shape I dressed up cute for church. I recently acquired a pair of brown, suede, slouchy boots and a pair of maternity leggings (the best $20 I've spent this pregnancy... they are SO COMFORTABLE!). I donned them last night with a sweet little dress and looked every bit the part of a maternity magazine model.

At least I thought I did.

Andy hates the boots and legging look (which I knew when I purchased them and was not expecting fireworks from him when I put them on) and told me that I looked like Robin Hood.

I told him that he would have to deal with it and that I would probably wear them every day for the next two and a half months, so there.

He laughed at me and said that he was quite sure every woman I encountered would probably tell me how cute I looked in them and the he knew he was the minority opinion, but he still thought it looked like a Robin Hood costume.

Then to make up for the teasing he told me my hair looked really great.

Which it did.

Regardless of his opinion of the latest trend, I still felt awfully cute as we headed out the door and prepared to parade myself around all of our friends.

Which I did, with great gusto.

Until...

Until I was talking to a grandma and she was making friendly conversation which included the, "When are you due?" question. I felt so smug to be able to say, "Oh, I'm about 30 weeks." And I tossed my hair to imply, "And don't I look just stunning?!"

Except she didn't catch the hair toss and replied, "Hmm..."

I don't like where this is going...

"You're kind of big for 30 weeks aren't you?"

And the tumbleweeds roll.

And my balloon bursts.

And I plaster a smile on my face and brush it off.

And make a quick exit from the conversation to find someone who can appreciate that even if I am HUGE, at least I still have fashion sense.

I hope.

Can I please pass on a word of advice? If you are talking to a pregnant woman, don't make any comment about her size except that she looks great. That is it. We all know we are getting bigger by the minute, but we can't do much about it now can we?

So.

No. Matter. What.

Don't tell a pregnant woman she is big.

Ever.

Ever.

Ever.

He Said, She Said: Today

I'm going to share with you a very true and a very unfortunate aspect of marriage.

It is the fact that sometimes you have to come to terms with the reality that you are just weird. And that you, as a person, even as a loved and adored spouse, can be irritating and irrational and, I hope not often, mean.

Luckily this story has nothing to do with mean, mostly weird.

I am weird.

I am irritating (on occasion).

And it is a darn good thing that I am well loved and have a husband with a good sense of humor because these aspects of my personality come out much more frequently than I would like.

I also happen to be pregnant,

which I like to imagine causes

the increase in these unattractive qualities,

but in reality probably is just a scapegoat for me.

Oh well,

if I've got to surrender my body for the next 9+ months

to an alien creature

then I feel completely entitled to use

all the excuses I can think of.

Today was one of those days that I was totally indecisive. Like one minute I was saying to Andy, "I guess I'll go to the store..." and then a few minutes or an hour later I would say, "I guess I won't go to the store today." Then a few minutes later I would start the same go-round, always about going to the grocery store.

Andy patiently and sweetly ignored my contradictory prater about the grocery store. Giving a simple but genuine "okay" each time I voiced a half-formed plan out loud.

Finally toward the end of the afternoon I had to pathetically confess that I was just in a weird mood and had no idea about what I wanted to do. I rambled on and on about what might be making me think and feel so spastic. Andy listened politely and offered little to say that "no, don't worry honey, you've been completely charming and sensical all day." What could he say? I've been totally retarded!

I concluded my lengthy monologue by saying, "And I feel like a giant pregnant woman."

BONUSE MARRIAGE TIP:

At this point in our marriage

I am too smart to say anything like

"I feel like a cow."

That is much too dramatic to get a gentle response

and what man do you know that likes

to hear his beloved bride called a cow?

My husband sure doesn't.

When I say things like that he just gets mad,

like he would toward anyone else

who talked about me like that.

So I stuck with the safe description

that would communicate the same thing.

Andy's response came out immediately and forcefully, "Well that's good! Because you are!"

I know that might not come across in text with the same teasing but man-factual tone that he used, but it perfectly communicated to me that yes, I am indeed a pregnant woman and I am exactly how I should be... growing big with a baby, so get over it.

Leave it to Andy to snap me out of a funk!

And pregnancy update: I feel huge!

It's REAL

Just so you know,

In case you have been wondering,

Pregnancy brain is a REAL thing.

Earlier this week I discovered that instead of throwing Jack's cloth diaper in the diaper bin, I had thrown it in the garbage. Only I didn't know I did it. It wasn't like one of those putting your keys in the fridge kind of things where as you close the door you are like, "What am I doing?"

No, I really had no idea I had done it until I went to throw away a paper towel and low and behold, there is one of Jack's cute bottom covers in the trash.

Sheesh.

However, that is nothing compared to today.

Today I met a gorgeous and interesting woman.

She captured my attention immediately. She moved with grace and poise. I just HAD to talk to her! We were at church and so it was easy to sit next to her, hear bits of her story and enjoy her easy smile.

I hope that doesn't sound stalker-ish. It wasn't really. Some people just exude that "I'm interesting and your life would be better if you knew me" quality, and she did for sure!

This is an author edit.

Apparently I also have difficulty

telling stories when I am with child.

Because the previous paragraphs

sound really creepy.

Even with the "I'm not a stalker" disclaimer.

I didn't sit in her vicinity and listen to her talk to

other people. I sat next to her and

struck up a friendly conversation.

Please don't think I'm an eavesdropper.

Anyway, after the meeting she ended up staying until everyone had left except for me and the other leader (I may not have mentioned that I'm helping with a mom's group at my church, but I am... today was our first meeting). Anyhow, I asked this terribly fascinating woman if she was waiting for someone and discovered that her husband is away on business and she wasn't looking forward to going home.

So I did the only thing I could do. I invited her to my house for coffee.

And she accepted!

That meant that she walked into my house with the random garbage smell (not usual, and a surprise to me when we walked in, oh yay!), laundry all over the couch (usual), stains on my carpet(permanent) and all other manner of mess.

But hospitality doesn't wait for laundry!

We had a wonderful visit.

I was able to offer lemonade with fresh slivers of ginger, which I hope compensated for half the pile of laundry. And I was granted the distinct privilege of making the "best nachos" she had ever had. Yahoo!

I wonder why I put "best nachos" in quotes.

An hour and a half into our very pleasant and easy conversation my doorbell rang.

?

It was Lizzie, my sister. She had the phone to her ear and almost immediately I realized my mistake.

For those of you who don't know,

My sister Liz lives two floors below me

in our condo complex.

I had a dentist appointment scheduled at 2:00 and Liz was at my door at 1:50. OH MY GOSH! How did I totally and completely forget that?! How?

Here is how the whole thing went:

The previous day I had called my mom

and arranged to call her at 1:00ish to see if Jack

was asleep or awake.

If he was napping she was going to come to me

and if he was awake I was going to bring him to her.

When she didn't hear from me

she called Lizzie.

Lizzie in turn came up and knocked on my back door.

Which I also didn't hear.

So she came to my front door and rang the doorbell.

And that is when I realized that I hadn't called my mom.

Does it make more sense now?

So I called my mom, who was supposed to be watching Jack and she headed over. This wonderful woman who I just met today offered to stay with Jack until my mom arrived. And I accepted!

I dashed out the door without a proper goodbye just as my mom was walking in.

How embarrassing! What a confusing, sloppy first impression I must have made.

But the day is done. My teeth are clean and hopefully my potential new friend won't write me off as a nutcase after this encounter.

So seriously. Pregnancy brain. It is REAL.

Free Time

Abruptly, Jack has gone back to two naps a day.

I don't expect it will last much longer, but for now, it means that I have two separate chunks of about an hour and a half all to myself.

I could use this time to tidy up, or take a nap, or read a book. But I find myself totally restless and totally aimless.

What is that about?

What a waste of all of those hours of napping!

Shame on me!

But it is okay right? To waste time on occasion?

Please tell me it is okay.

And please tell me that you have been thinking all day about the premier of Biggest Loser.

And please tell me it is okay to enjoy BL so much.

Oh dear.

I'm a mess.

But a happy mess.

For all my aimless hours, lacking in productivity, I find myself enjoying lounging on the couch watching my newest obsession and dreaming of all the things I would some day do to make over my bedroom.

I am glad that I have space in my life to dream.

Well here I am, blathering on. Not making any sense. Please forgive me.

Pregnancy does something to my brain.

As excited as I am to meet our new miss or mister, I will be delighted to have my body and mind back to myself (as much as can be with a newborn and toddler).

Speaking of meeting our baby... we get to find out the gender in about three weeks!

SQUEEEEE!

Pleasepleasepleaseplease let it be a girl!

Up and Down

I just had one of my monthly pre-natal appointments. Though I'm not given to fear or worry (that might be a lie, I think I worry just as much as the next gal) I found myself anxious to hear the heart beat of the baby and know that he or she is still growing strong and healthy.

The doctor gave me his usual delivery about "if we don't hear the heartbeat right away, it doesn't mean something is wrong..." and as he was reminding me that sometimes the sweet spot takes a while to find he was setting the doppler on my belly.

Wouldn't you know! With no searching, with no preamble, there was the sound of the baby. Loud and clear.

And I remembered that God loves me. And he loves this little baby.

I'm trying to remind myself of all the sweet things that come with growing a baby. This time around I find I'm much more prone to complaining or pouting. Granted, I think that number two for me is legitimately more difficult, but there are still sweet things to be dwelt on.

When I sat down to write, I glanced over at the couch and noticed my pair of size-up jeans that I bought a few weeks ago when everything was feeling tight. The first thing I thought was NOT sweet. I thought, "Oh my gosh! The butt of those pants is huge! Is that how big I am in back?!"

That is where I started.

But now that I remembered that there is a wee little babe growing inside of me and that my other big baby is taking a sound nap, my large tush doesn't seem quite so important.

It is unfortunate.

But not important.

I won't let it spoil my day.

Today anyway.

Ah the fickleness of emotions. Isn't it grand to be a girl?

Second Time Around

It is well past my bedtime.

Andy has been studiously working on his homework and I've been starting the cleaning process for hosting a baby shower on Saturday.

I also have been painting three canvases.

All day I have been composing a blog-story to tell you, but now it is too late. It is time for me to go to bed. Really. It was time for me to go to bed an hour ago.

But I want to tell you what I was going to tell you about.

Misery loves company, and I love your company.

Here's the thing.

I'm really tired.

Being pregnant is much harder than I remember. My head spins when I stand up... EVERY TIME! Once the spinning stops, I feel woozy if I stand too long. Even before I discovered the good news, I found myself sitting through worship on Sundays and wondering why. I feel like I am putting food into my mouth ALL THE TIME because if I get hungry I can literally feel my face turn green. When it isn't green, my face is white. Like pale, pale white. With big grey smudges under my eyes all the time. I feel anything but fancy.

All of my clothes feel uncomfortable. I don't like looking at myself in the mirror.

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

From feeling like a hard-body stud training for a triathlon to a immobilized lump, oh friends. It is an awful fall.

I'm snappy, short tempered, foggy headed, defensive all while trying to pretend that I'm not and that life is just going on as normal. Oh how I wish someone else could be in my body and tell me that all these things are really just part of growing a baby, not a mental break down on my part.

They say each pregnancy is different. I guess it must be true. I don't remember anything like this last time (Andy might!). But I suppose last time I wasn't chasing a toddler (or two depending on the day, three on Tuesday!). Last time I daily encountered people reminding me that I was excited and people being thrilled for me. This time I daily encounter Jack, who could care less about what is happening as long as I twirl him around, read him stories and do exactly as he says.

Which brings me to... Jack. Ladies, that boy... well, he is a boy. All boy. He has discovered his physical abilities, which include: hitting, pinching, throwing himself on the floor in anger, throwing things into the toilet, climbing onto the dining room table, throwing anything he can lift, and pushing.

Let's not hide all the good under the troublesome. He can also now hold up his pointer finger and grin wildly when I say, "Jack, how old are you?" He dances often and still enjoys a good cuddle. He pats my face when we sing "patty cake" and he has started making weird animal noises when ever he sees certain creatures. He offers kisses freely and makes sure to give out "knuckles" after every high-five. And he claps for himself whenever he feels he's done something wonderful.

Well now I've done it. I meant to just give you a teaser, but now I've blurted it all out there. I'm sure I have more to tell you about Jack and his amazing tricks... and his amazing tantrums, but those stories will have to wait. I will try and get you some new pictures to accompany the tales.

They might have to wait

until I finish his

haircut.

I started it a few days ago

but haven't caught him

in a motionless minute

since then.

I don't think it looks

half-cut to anyone else

but it is.

And now that you know about it

I really must finish it

before I give you pictures.

Good night to all (oh my! I suddenly am dreaming of fall and Christmas seasons!) and sweet dreams to you!