Fat, But Productive

You know that heavy/loud breathing thing that really obese people do?  Yeah...I do that now.  I just caught myself.  It's one of my pet peeves too, so this is really not an exciting development for me.  I remember sitting across the desk from this one boss I had a few years ago and just feeling disgusted, because as he rummaged around forever trying to find the file on his computer he was talking about, the only sound in the room was his heavy-for-no-reason breathing and the occasional ticking coming from his personal fridge full of snacks.  Which never kept him from pilfering from MY snack drawer anytime I left my office.  I even started to bring only cold food for lunch because if I put anything in the microwave, he'd come bounding down the stairs looking like it was Christmas morning and asking "Ooooooooh, what are we cooking??!!"  Also, he'd always stop in my office every morning and sit down to chat about nothing for a few minutes because his office was up a flight of stairs and he had to rest between the walk from his car and that large upward journey.  Ugh.  Now I'm THAT GUY.  Not that I've become obese, but still...just to count myself among the people that sound obese is not a good feeling.  What if I'm on the phone with someone I've never met?  I bet they're going to just assume.  They'll think to themselves, "It's a good thing this lady is canceling her cable, it sounds like she needs a reason to get off the couch."  You can tell I spent a good portion of my twenties being overweight, right?  Now I'm paranoid.

So other than my laborious breathing, everything is still pretty boring on the pregnancy front.  Still have a butt in my ribs, but I imagine it's a pretty cute one, so it's not really a big deal.  The baby is 90% named, I think.  Not that we're sharing, but we've been sort of stuck on one for a while now.  And guess what?  We ran it by Zoe and BabyKer and they both like it as well, so it's 100% approved.  Just have to see if it sticks now.  There's no telling with me though, my favorite color was green yesterday and today it's orange.  We have 49 days left (although I'd be perfectly happy with a few less than that), baby's head is getting bigger because my favorite part - his brain, is growing rapidly right now.  He is changing colors, from red to pink, and putting on some more body fat.  Hopefully, he's taking it from my reserves and not wasting resources.  Mom likes to recycle.

Exciting news!  We have a place to live.  It's hopefully pretty short-term.  We resigned ourselves to living in an apartment since no one seems to want to move out of their house during Christmas, which turned out to be incredibly inconvenient for us.  We'll try again in a few months.  But the good news is, BabyKer has his own room for me to paint some undecided (and surely to be re-decided) color. Peyton has been busy working on some paintings for his room too, so it's going to be pretty cute.  Bad news...Peyton is about to meet a new side of me, and I bet the first few days of living together are going to be rough.  Once we get over the initial control-freak decorator that lives deep down inside me, I think it's going to be fun, but please pray for our first week together :).  He has opinions and I am going to do my best to respect them.  Even though I think men should have no say in the matter.  I'm still going to try and be a better person than I've been in the past.  But this part of my personality is something I was born with and cannot be completely ignored, as demonstrated by the constant battle my parents faced with me when they would come home from work to find all of their furniture rearranged.  They had horrible taste, but could not be convinced of it.  I never gave up though.  If they came home today to find a certain ugly hall table missing, they would probably still know exactly which closet in which to find it.  It's like I was raised by apes, really - we have nothing in common.  But I digress.

Christmas was wonderful.  We had great visits with both of our families.  My grandmother was on great behavior, which made things much easier.  However, she was sporting a new wig and I kept seeing her across the room and not recognizing her, which was strange.  I giggled to myself a little when I saw she had slipped a copy of her Christmas letter into one of my gifts though.  Oh thank you...it's just what I wanted.  But everyone, including her, was more than generous to us and I have no complaints.  Well, except that I didn't get to drink wine with all my Christmas dinners, but there's always next year.

Fa La La La Laaaaaaaaa!

Well, I mailed my Christmas cards.  It was the easiest of the tasks on my list, and I'm ever so proud of myself.  It is also the one and only thing I have accomplished since then, but hey, I did something!  


Sleep has not been coming so easily the past few days.  I think I may be permanently uncomfortable with no other option but to wait it out.  I think I'd rather have baby-interrupted spurts of super-comfy sleep than the painful kind at this point, but patience is a virtue.


Thirty-two weeks tomorrow!  And right on schedule, my 8-weeks-ahead-of-me coworker is in labor today.  On her due date.  If you knew her, you'd know how fitting it is that her baby is so punctual already.  So if my baby's like me, he'll either be really early or won't want to bother coming out at all, depending on his mood.  


This weekend, I really wanted to have a day where we didn't do anything important - no chores, no errands, nothing.  So we did that Saturday and it was so great.  Slept in late, went to get some breakfast, did some half-hearted, unproductive shopping, rented movies, napped, and went out for dinner.  Unfortunately, dinner took place in Rockwall, so it was a little bit of a nightmare to get out there, but other than that...one of the best no-obligation days so far.  I plan to have a few more in the next few weeks.  Here's hoping.  


Christmas is this weekend - and if only it weren't almost 80 degrees outside (as well as inside, or is it just me?) I'd almost believe it.  But since I have no tree up, the sun is blazing, I haven't done any shopping and I'm not really in the mood...it just doesn't seem like it's really coming up in a matter of days.  Well, there is my friendly neighbor across the hall at work who doesn't own a pair of headphones and prefers Celine Dion over any other Christmas album...but that's the last thing that would get me in the mood for festivities.  I bet once I stop sweating, I'll be more into it.  Christmas, that is...not Celine Dion.


As of my last doctor visit, my pregnancy is still decidedly boring (which is great), according to my doctor.  I've grown 33 centimeters, and BabyKer is between 3 and 4 lbs.  I also asked for confirmation of his position so I'll know I'm not causing brain damage to him when I try to push him away from my soon-to-be broken ribs.  Good news!  I'm not - it's just his tiny, very boney hiney, which he likes to wiggle a lot.  It'll be a really cute trick in person, I'm sure.  He moves around a lot lately.  Not so much kicking as squirming...I can tell he's running out of room.  Poor thing.  Wait till he finds out he's sleeping in a basket on a nightstand when he gets here.  

Maybe Tomorrow...

Remember when I used to blog?  Yeah, me either.  But don't worry, my neglect of you is widely and evenly spread amongst everything in my life right now, so please don't feel like I've singled you out.  My laundry?  Ingored. (As always).  Dishes?  What dishes?  Daycare?  Ehh...eventually.  Pediatrician?  I'll get around to it.  Place to live?  There's always next week.  Christmas cards?  Addressed!  But not signed.  I did the hard part and now can't make myself do the easy part.  I wrapped three out of four Christmas gifts last night.  Why not just go ahead and wrap the last one, you ask?  Didn't feel like it.  And what about naming the baby?  Noooo....we will not be getting around to that anytime soon, I promise.  


It's not like I'm tired. In fact, I'm sleeping really well for the most part.  I'm just sort of a little bit in denial, maybe.  Because just in case you thought that by the third trimester, it would have sunk in that I'm actually going to have a baby at the end of all this, it so hasn't.  It never did and still does not feel real.  Oh, I get that I'm pregnant...that part is pretty much impossible to ignore.  But the fact that there is going to be an actual human to take care of pretty soon - it just makes no sense.  I'm still puppy shopping, in fact.  When I tell people this, they look at me as if I'm absolutely insane, but with a puppy, I know what I'm getting into and that I can also change my mind if it doesn't seem to be going well.  I'm ready for a puppy.  A baby?  Not so much. 


I'm in for a pretty big reality check, right?  Trust me, I'm aware.  But it's hard to picture bringing the baby home, when we don't even know where home is.  We can, however, picture what he'll be wearing because BabyKer officially has a closetful of clothes.  A literal closetful. And Peyton has a bigger closet than I do, and that is where all things baby are living right now, so did I mention baby has a lot of clothes?  And oh my gosh, are they the cutest things ever.  So are the tiny shoes!  He already has five pairs of shoes and yes, I know he doesn't need them, but I promise he will be wearing them anyway.  With Christmas around the corner, however, I'm having to constantly remind myself that the baby isn't actually here and that he will be just fine if I don't buy him gifts this year.  The toys for six month old babies will do him no good whatsoever for at least eight months and by then...I can start shopping for next Christmas.  It's so fun though.  


Speaking of Christmas, I found out last night that my grandmother is sending out her annual Christmas letter as per the usual, and that yours truly and my exciting news of this super-long-cooking baby did not even earn a mention.  Apparently, it's just too embarrassing to share that her unwed granddaughter will be gracing the world with an illegitimate baby while shacking up in sin with the baby daddy.  Suffice it to say, I'm not surprised in the least by her omission, but my feelings are very hurt.  In fact, I had a hard time falling asleep last night because I kept working myself up by imagining the Julia Sugarbaker-type rants ("and FURTHERMOOOOOORE, Grandma....") I wish I could unleash on her if only I wouldn't have to end up being the one to apologize for hurting her feelings.  I cannot wait for all of you to get to meet her at the baby shower.  With no men around to keep her in line, I'm not really sure what she'll feel compelled to say.  But in the spirit of forgiveness, she's still invited. (Or is it in the spirit of entertainment?  Kids...and old ladies, it turns out, can say the darnedest things).  I understand that she grew up in another time and things were different, and BLAH BLAH BLAH....which is why she'll never know how I feel.  I just wish I could make her see that the same God that she is using as the foundation for her judgement and pride is the God who made sure this baby happened in the first place and that He certainly wouldn't leave me out of His Christmas letter out of embarrassment, no matter what.  And that's all I have to say about that...


In other news, my projects are starting to roll in!  What projects?  Why the ones you are working on, of course.  Duh.  While in Houston this weekend, one aunt gave me the three projects she made for BabyKer's room. One of them with a post-it note placeholder where his name will later be added.  For the record, I swear we have no idea what we are naming him.  It's true that we're not telling anyone until he's born, but it may turn out that we don't know until he's born either.  But I digress.  I also have a beautiful new watercolor from my incredibly talented cousin, Jax.  He whipped it up in about an hour.  Just saying.  Another aunt got started making origami creatures for a mobile.  And last but not least, my cousin, Jacob, somehow thought that his project was complete when he painted a watercolor four years ago, but that isn't how this works...so I'm excited to see what he creates just for the baby in the next few weeks.  I hope I'm not being too subtle for you, Jacob.  P.S.  I like trees.  


Even though I am unmotivated and becoming the champion of not getting things done, I am currently working on a new to-do list, one that I hope will have some check-marks on it the next time I write.  If you happen to get a Christmas card in the mail before Christmas, for example, you will know that I've taken at least one step in that direction.  Luckily, other people are in charge of sending out baby shower invitations, so that actually stands a chance of getting done - be checking the mail for them!  It's January 22nd and will probably be the time of your life, so you should just go ahead and mark your calendars now.  Start making travel arrangements too, if you need to.  You can come stay with me in my tent that weekend.  (Guess I better get a tent.)  

Think Twice, Speak Once

This past Thursday, we accomplished something I didn’t think was possible.  A short doctor visit.  Hopefully, now that I have to go every two weeks, they will all be short.  For this one, I drank a glucose tolerance beverage which didn’t taste as bad as I thought it would, but I immediately felt sick.  Add to that the fact that they took blood for the test, and my afternoon was close to ruined.  By the time my stomach felt better, I was falling asleep at my desk.  But the good news is, I do not have gestational diabetes.  Not even close.  So cupcakes still get to be a big part of my life.  So happy!  I do have low blood count though, so I’m taking iron supplements, but I can live with that.  I’m hoping that now I won’t be so tired all the time.  Although, it’s been a really great excuse for not doing the things I don’t want to do.  Unfortunately, I was too freaked out about the blood and the needle to pay attention to anything else going on, but Peyton tells me that BabyKer’s heartbeat was fine and I’m still growing (getting fatter) at the normal rate.   He’s big, I’m big…everybody’s big.  Yay.

            I also had dinner with a friend a couple of weeks ago and we decided on a date for my baby shower.  January 22^nd.  Three weeks before my due date.  So assuming I’m still pregnant, which I probably will be, I will also be huge AND on display!!  Oh well…the holidays sucked up all the good dates, so this is what was left.  And I know I’m supposed to just sit back and let the rest of the planning play out, but I’m a little handsy when it comes to these things.  I’m going to try not to be, though.  TRY being the key word.  Good luck, me!

            So we have not picked out a name for BabyKer yet, but have decided that once we do, it’s going to be our little secret until he’s here.  It took just a couple of times of getting our feelings hurt to realize that this is our decision, and ours alone…and there are going to be people who don’t like his name, no matter what it is.  The important thing is WE will like it, and it will be awesome.  Trust me. 

            Speaking of feelings…I really want to know what it is about being pregnant that makes me look like my feelings can’t get hurt.  It’s like the whole world switches their tact button to “off” when they see me (or any other pregnant woman) approaching.  I know I’ve complained about it before, but it just keeps happening, and every time it shocks me.  This weekend, a lady at Walgreens asked me when I’m due and when I told her February, her eyes popped and she said, “Wow…you’re so BIG already!”  Yeah well…thank you?  What the heck am I supposed to say to that?!  Other than, “Wow…so are YOU.” (Even though she wasn’t…but let her see what it feels like).  Poor Peyton gets to deal with this for way longer than any of these rude people do.  They just blurt out their insult and then happily go about their day, while Peyton gets to wait around for me for 20 extra minutes while I change clothes five times and complain about how huge I look in everything, thanks to the new complex I’ve just been given.  So I’m going to break it down into simple terms.  Woman = overly sensitive.  Pregnant woman = overly sensitive with no emotional control and a tendency to leave the brain-to-mouth filter next to the other important items she can’t find.  Tread carefully!!!  Okay?

Product Placement Alert

You know how you get when you're in love?  When you just want to go around telling everyone about it, but you worry about gushing too much and being annoying?  Well this is my blog, so I don't have to worry about that.  


I am so in love with my new body butter.  Forgive me for sounding like a commercial, but I have found perfection, and it needs to be shared with the world.  Yes to Carrots is the best stuff out there.  It doesn't stink, which is a big deal at this point in my life when "stink" has taken on new meaning.  It makes my skin softer than ever, another big deal since I'm dealing with a winter-pregnant combo that makes skin very dry and itchy.  It isn't greasy, which is something a lot of good moisturizers are.  And the best part....it's $12.99 at Target for a big tub of it as opposed to $40 for my second-favorite Mom and Baby Balm at L'Occitane.  I could go on and on.  I'm going to, actually...it's made from organic fruits and vegetables and some Dead Sea minerals, and part of it's proceeds go to planting seeds somewhere or something.  It's very noble of me to use it, that's all I know.  So imagine my excitement when I read today that their line has expanded to include Yes to Baby Carrots.  Yep.  Baby carrots. As in babies.  And guess who's having a baby?  Yep.  Me.  The universe has conspired to make this the happiest time in my life and it knew exactly what would really do it for me!  Anyone who knows me knows that there is a regoshdarndiculous amount of body products residing in my bathroom at any given point.  Well, now there will be even more.  Don't be shocked to find some of this hiding in your stockings this Christmas, as this year's theme will be Cassidy's Favorite Things (which are better and more practical than Oprah's).  You're welcome in advance.  


*Insert cheesy smile here as I hold up a label-forward tub of said product*


Ok, free advertising session over.  How are those projects coming?  

Goodnight Moon

I FINISHED MY REGISTRY!  Once I have fully recovered from yesterday and allowed this monumental occasion to sink in, I'm going to do jumping jacks.  Like three of them, maybe. It's hard to imagine that right now, though.  Holy. Tired. Batman.  


Yesterday, I spent all day working on decorating our office for halloween.  We're doing A Nightmare Before Christmas and it's kind of a lot of work.  Manual work. All day. I was exhausted by 2:00 and by 5:00, I was laying on the floor behind my desk with my feet in the chair and wondering how I would ever get back up.  I have no idea how it happened, but I found myself right-side-up again and on my way to Babies R Us to meet Janelle and finally finish exploring the universe of baby and telling it what I need.  I'm so glad she was there...I deleted several things from the list, added about forty-nine more...found out what some of this stuff actually does, learned that a receiving blanket actually does have some purpose, and maybe even lots of purpose.  Who'd have guessed?  Probably everyone but me, actually.  Anyway, we finished up, went to dinner, then headed home.  I sat on the Tollway in traffic for forty-five minutes at 9 p.m. and fell into bed when I got home.  I have never been so physically and mentally tired in all my life.  No really.  Never.  So naturally, I woke up six times, couldn't fall back asleep one of those times, spent a lot of the night listening to Zoe snore like a grown man or scratch herself and now I will spending the day in the realm of the walking dead so I can be around others like myself.  It's a support system.  


Seriously though...I finished something.  I'm so HAPPY!  


But now that I know what this kind of tired feels like, I'm wondering how to survive the next eighteen years of my life.  And just so you know, there was a ten minute pause between the last sentence and this one during which I fell asleep at my desk.  It's not looking good.  I just did it again. I'm out.

Cupcakes Can Save Your Life

Good news for everyone, but most of all me.  I am back to a normal mood.  Normal for a pregnant woman, at least.  I went to the doctor on Thursday and she told me everyone goes through the crazy mood swings and that I should go home and rent a sad movie and cry it all out.  I didn't do that.  Why?  Well...because I couldn't wait that long. When I got back to work, I had a major meltdown that required lots of Kleenex and a coworker dragging me out to the mall for a break. One red velvet cupcake later, I was starting to feel better.  It's a scientific thing...endorphins being released in the brain, stuff like that.  So really, in those types of situations, it's best to eat sweets.  It's true. Besides, when I go back to the doctor again, I'm being tested for gestational diabetes and on the off chance that sweets become off limits at that time, I need to make sure I've met my quota.  Also, when your doctor says something amazing like, "You're still under the normal weight gain for this point in your pregnancy," HOW ELSE are you going to celebrate?!  I heard "cupcake" from at least three of you.  Those of you who said "ice cream", that is also a correct response.  I would have also accepted cookie, milkshake and/or pie.  And pancakes.  


It's possible that the cupcake saved some other lives as well.  Because it elevated my mood to "non-murderous" on Thursday, the DAs on Friday who had stupid things to say to me lived to see another weekend.  I realize that some people are socially inept and some people are men.  Falling into one of those two categories is dangerous when speaking to a pregnant woman.  So here are two examples of what NOT to say, ever, at any point, unless you are a very fast runner or have cat-like reflexes:  "I was so sure you were having a girl because your nose is doing the same thing mine did and getting really huge!!  I mean, it looks better today than it has before, but I can still see it."  Her house stands a pretty good chance of getting toilet papered soon.  I'm not above that.  Next comment (in the same day of course, that's how this seems to work): "Wow, someone's really putting on some weight.  Haha...at least it's in all the right places. Congratulations, by the way."  In my head, I mashed my index finger against his lips and said, "Shhhhhhhhhh!".  JUST. SAY. CONGRATS.  That is all.  Leave it at that.  In fact, take your cue from my obviously well-informed boyfriend and say things like, "You're so skinny," and "You could be a pregnant mom model."  I'm not going to believe you, but I'm also not going to punch you, so everybody wins.  


The weekend was much better.  I ordered BabyKer some pacifiers that are supposed to be great, we bought him some teeny tiny flip-flops that look like they could be a keychain, but for $1, he really needed them.  I also bought him a copy of Love You Forever, by Robert Munsch and was going to open it up and read it in the car, but I got teary-eyed just thinking about it, so maybe another day.  Sunday, we took him to his first scary movie, Paranormal Activity 2.  High five to Peyton for doing something he really did not want to do and high five to BabyKer for not being scared at all. I walked out of the theater and told Peyton the movie just made me more excited for the baby because the one in the movie was so cute.  He thought that was weird.  If he's just now figuring this out about me, he has only himself to blame because I've done very little to hide it.


On a side note, besides being a scary movie fan, BabyKer is also now a baseball fan.  He and his daddy actually got so excited during the game on Friday night that I had to separate the two of them for a few minutes.  I think our house is going to be loud.  Whatever, as long as it's happy.

Today...I Should Be Censored

I'm over being pregnant.  If there was a way to just walk into the hospital in February and pick my baby up and take him home, I would really prefer that.  Actually, while I'm fantasizing, I'd sort of rather visit the Cabbage Patch and walk along rows of cute baby heads popping out of cabbage sprouts and pluck my baby from the ground, have tea with Xavier Roberts before he tattoos his name on my baby's cloth butt and head home with little Carnegie Steven.  That's a happy little picture, isn't it?  It certainly was when I was six and Cabbage Patch Kids were the best thing in life.  Back then, they just showed up at Christmas in a weird shaped box with a birth certificate sporting the ugliest name possible...and that's where babies came from.  Also, when said babies began to imaginary cry, you could just set them aside and move on to Legos.  


But why should I complain?  I had the luxury of sleeping through the night last night for the first time in months after all.  Shouldn't I feel spoiled?  Well, I don't. I am overwhelmed and unexcited, and the unexcited part has led to guilt, which makes me a little depressed and this week is just not fun.  Not that I even know what fun is anymore.  Fun used to be buying little presents to myself or redecorating my bedroom for no reason.  Fun was meeting a friend for happy hour after a long day at work or having sushi for lunch  three times in one week just because it's so yummy.  Fun was running at Arbor Hills and making it all the way up the big hills without walking - then getting to watch the numbers on the scale go down, along with my pant size.  THAT was fun.  And that was forever ago, it seems like.  


Now my body belongs to someone else and I can't do a single thing without thinking about how it will affect him.  Welcome to motherhood, yes I know.  At least when he's here I'll be able to take a break every now and then.  Right now, I'm just watching all that weight I was so worried about not gaining in the beginning deliver itself to my doorstep (the back door, naturally) on a daily basis.  Ounces a day that add up to pounds so quickly that if I did the math, I'd probably weigh around 324 pounds by the time the baby is born.  I'm worrying about money every moment of every day and feeling the weight of birthday gifts, baby shower gifts, wedding gifts and Christmas gifts resting on my shoulders for weeks and weeks to come.  Not to mention the huge increase in my own expenses I have to look forward to.  I am drinking a cup of coffee every morning and then feeling guilty because I'm probably turning my baby into a hyper-active caffeine addicted midget from what the books say, even though I'm staying below the limit.  What the books say...I've stopped reading the books.  The books are evil as far as I'm concerned.  There should be a book out there that, start to finish, just tells people what a load of crap all the other books are, and that they should be shelved in a section called, "How To Lose Your Mind Before The Hormones Make You Lose It Anyway."  I knew I should have bought the one called Pregnancy Sucks.  


So today is going to be a blast, I just know it.  It's ShoveBabiesDownMyThroatDay, apparently.  Soon, I leave for a doctor appointment, where I am looking forward to the startled look on her face when she sees my new scale number.  Then I get to swing by BuyBuy Baby for a last minute baby shower gift for a co-worker that I will get back to the office just in time for.  This is a true testament of my planning skills lately.  Once that's over, the work day will be too, and I'll be heading to Babies R Us to meet a friend so she can help me with my mess of a registry and hopefully calm me down and tell me how worth it all of this is.  She better be reading this before then, she has a lot of work ahead of her.  


Keep your fingers crossed for another mood swing, by the way.  We're hoping it swings the other way next time.

At Least I'm Not a Worrier

The one thing I have wanted in life lately is to have something completed and checked off the list.  Anything.  Even if it's as simple as brushing my teeth, but that doesn't count because it pre-dates the baby list.  I thought last week was going to be my opportunity to mark off the first item - completing and mailing the hospital pre-admission forms.  Yes, that is already here.  It's due by my 26th week, so just in case, I got started during my 22nd week but guess what?  Four weeks may not be enough time for me to re-grow the brain cells it will take for me to be able to determine the difference between Babyker's biological father and his presumed father.  But that's not the part that initially dumbfounded me.  Page 1.  Mailing address.  Yep...I got stuck.  In a matter of 3.6 seconds, everything I could possible worry about in regards to an address went flying through my brain.  My mailing address now isn't what it will be when the baby's here, but I have to turn this in now, what do I do? What if I forget to update it before he's here and they mail his birth certificate to my apartment that I won't be living in, and where will we be living?  Should I just put someone's address in one of our families that's more permanent, but isn't that kind of weird, will it show up on his birth certificate that he lived with an aunt when he was born?  OH MY GOSH.  I CAN'T FILL IN AN ADDRESS.  Way to go, me.  The forms are now sitting on my desk covered in purple ink and white out tape and still requiring about another hour's worth of my attention.  

Moving on to item number two (which will soon mean "poop" in our house) on the list.  The baby registry.  I have been wanting to get this one out of the way for a couple of weeks, so before dragging Peyton to the scariest store on earth, I decided to get some of the less important small things out of the way first.  So I went online, started the registry and then realized that I am one of those annoying nerd-moms who will now have a plethora of knowledge about every tiny baby object and the materials that go into it because I can't make a decision about a bib without first doing 2-3 hours of research.  So after two weeks of that, I finally insisted that we just actually visit the store and get this over with.  I picked Saturday.  Rangers-play-off-game-#2-against-the-Yankees-day to be more precise.  Needless to say, I felt a little rushed, didn't get a chance to look at a lot of the things I wanted to look at, and will be making another girls-only trip later in the week to hopefully wrap this up once and for all.  Peyton is very happy with this news, trust me.  Three visits to a store that even intimidates me is probably enough for the poor guy. By the way, if anyone would like to offer up some baby gear advice, we are registered at Babies R Us and BabyEarth.com. If you can contribute to me being able to sleep better at night because I've actually completed a task, you will no doubt be rewarded with extra baby hugs in the near future.  

Item number three on the list - finding a place to live.  I have about 6 weeks before we have to really and truly start thinking about this and I've just made the decision that I'm going to use every single day of that time not thinking about it.  Nope.  Not going to worry about how much it will cost, or how very pregnant I'm going to be when I have to move from my second floor apartment or how bad my dog is and how she doesn't deserve to come with me (I didn't just say that) or how I'm worried about living with someone that was probably never going to live with me until all of this happened....Ok, starting NOW.

Project, Anyone?

I have been searching high and low for some baby/crib bedding that I don't hate. I gave up loving it a long time ago, and just wanted to find something that I could live with for a while. It's not possible. I don't like any of the matching baby ensemble crib bed-in-a-bag things that are out there, I don't like the fabric choices on the customizable bedding websites, and most of all, I don't like themes. What I do like, is having the ability and freedom to see something I like and add it to the room without having to wonder if it "goes" with everything. So I registered for some plain, natural bamboo crib bedding, and the rest of Babyker's room will be whatever we want it to be.

Congratulations, everyone - this involves you. Between Peyton and me, we know a lot of very talented and creative people, and would love to be able to have a little piece of everyone to decorate the most important room in the house. Doesn't matter if you're more crafty or artsy or you think you don't have any creativity at all. Whatever you contribute, it will make Babyker's room that much more special. I'm getting all teary-eyed just thinking about it. No really...I am.

I will not harass and demand things from Peyton's side of the world - I'll let him do that. A lot of you haven't met me, so I maybe still have a chance to seem nice. As for MY family and friends...especially my family, you have basically been given a mandatory assignment that will serve as a prerequisite to being allowed to look upon the perfection that will be our child. Naturally, there is a deadline. The baby will be here in February and he will know if your gift arrived last minute because I will tell him. I will also explain to him what an afterthought is and give him a list of names, and trust me...you will get peed on. There's a reason I wanted a boy. So before he arrives, I would love to have my hands on whatever creation you wish to bestow upon him. Let's say January. I'll even let you ship it on my dime, just let me know and I'll give you my FedEx account number.

Need an idea?

Paintings - lots please!

Photographs

Frames

Other wall art

Mobile

Blanket

Lampshade

Pillow

Tiles

Photo boxes

I don't know...you're the creative ones.

Notes to consider:

- Laura, I want a copy of Jacob's watercolor, but that doesn't count, he has to make something new still :) Also, the flower Jax started for me almost a year ago will not count. Start from scratch. (I'm so bossy!)

- Babs...just so you know, I really loved the boxes you made for all of us a few years ago, and what a great place to keep and hair and teeth and other things that fall off the baby that I might want to keep.

- Kim and Becky, living in another country does not excuse you.

- Pastel colors are gross.

Feel free to email me with any questions.

cassidylovejoy@yahoo.com

He is What I Eat...or Something.

While reading my weekly update on the baby's progress, I learned something very important. Apparently, he is take a few gulps a day of the amniotic fluid in order to practice swallowing, which is great and all, but the delicious flavor of this fluid is coming from the things I eat. Even better, scientific research shows that what I eat now will effect what he has a taste for later.

Here's the problem with that...

I did not know that, and if I had not read it, I would soon be counted among the millions of mothers who wonder why on earth their kid won't eat anything but pb&j and plain pasta. Although, he'd also have a special place in his heart for pizza, all flavors of cake, and french fries, but who doesn't?

That being said, I have some serious work to do. I used to be a very healthy eater and only indulged occasionally and even when I did, I tried to keep it to a minimum. Now that I am pregnant, you can just go ahead and reverse what I just said and apply it to the past four months of my life. Gone are the days when grilled fish sounded appealing, or Orange Cup won out over Pacuigo Italian gelato. Pizza for me used to be homemade with turkey pepperoni and reduced fat cheese, but why bother with that when there's a sexy pilot out there who calls himself the Red Baron and specializes in making my mouth blissful in 22 minutes flat? (Or 17 for a softer crust). And yes, the multigrain bagel with light cream cheese is good, but the dutch apple streusel bagel with regular cream cheese is so much better. But alas, it is time to change my ways. A few years ago, I saw a little hippie-toddler, walking around with her hippie-mother, happily munching on a cucumber, oblivious to the world of cotton candy and ice cream cones, or even bags of salty goldfish. I decided at that moment that if I ever had a kid, that's how life would be. There would be no junk food in my house, no trips through the drive-thru, no soda. Maybe that's a little idealistic, but the baby hasn't been born yet, so I still get to be that way for a while.

So today (at lunch, breakfast was a write-off), I will start eating healthier and tricking my baby into thinking that all vegetables are delicious and not at all considered an acquired taste as you grow older. He'll also have to learn to like meats other than just the ground-up, patty shaped ones he has grown accustomed to. It's going to be hard, and I'm going to be really, really sad for a while, but it will all be worth it in the end. However, I did already put pancakes on the menu for breakfast this weekend, and I hate to be all wishy-washy, sooo...I guess it's ok if he likes pancakes. Lord knows his mother does.

Pleeeeaase be a nerd...

Yesterday, I endured about an hour of my tummy "twitching". After Googling it to find out the cause, I discovered three things.

1) Either the baby had the hiccups or

b) the baby was moving around a LOT and causing ripples in the amniotic fluid, which is not nearly as adorable as the hiccups

Last) Most people who comment on the internet, in general, have horrible spelling and grammar skills. It's embarrassing.

We'll come back to the illiteracy problem in a moment. First, I want to brag about how active the baby is. I am feeling him move so much more now, and it still startles me sometimes, but I love it. Hopefully, he's getting some energy out of his system now so that he'll be nice and sleepy for the first year or so of his life. In honor of his activity level, I bought him his first golf outfit this weekend, complete with stuffed vinyl golf bag filled with silver lame golf clubs. (Boys...that's pronounced luh-MAY, and you don't need to worry about it, it's a fabric.) While shopping with my friend, I also noticed that girls require quadruple the number of outfits that boys do, as indicated by the presence of as many more racks of girl clothes than boy clothes, not to mention the number of items in my hands, versus the number of items in her...arms. Mackinley, you are a very well-dressed little girl! (She's also the cutest little girl.) So basically what I'm trying to say is...have I mentioned I'm thrilled to be having a boy? We could not have afforded a girl, and I don't have the patience to match outfits that well.

Also over the weekend, we saw The Social Network. While Peyton's vision of our child consists of an amalgam of star athletes from each major sport, my vision is Mark Zuckerberg with better manners (but not at the sacrifice of his dry wit). Maybe Mark Zuckerberg mixed with Harry Potter. I have a big place in my heart that has been especially reserved for nerds. I always have. They seem to make the best humans. Maybe our son can be a combination of super-nerd meets super-athlete. Like Superman. Only no cape or tights. And also no skulls and cross bones or camouflage. I told a friend this weekend, my son will have long hippie-hair and wear clothes made of hemp.

Anyhoooo.....whatever he is, he will be able to spell and speak intelligently, and will never embarrass me on internet forums by answering questions in broken English, especially considering English will be his first language. Google seems like such a simple tool. However, it took me well over an hour and a half to dig through time-wasting responses such as "I don't know" (then WHY did you answer?), annoying spelling mistakes like "for the pass few hours" and "I have a twitching filling", and my personal favorite, "Maybe you havin twins." Yes. Maybe that's it. Thank you.

Bigger Is Better. I Guess.

I had a special relationship before being pregnant that isn't feeling quite as special anymore. I was quickly becoming best friends with the gym. Now...just seems we don't click like we used to. I'm still going. But what used to be almost an addiction and very gratifying, is now a little bit of torture. However, I refuse to gain more weight than what would be considered normal, because I was on a mission before all of this, and that mission WILL BE COMPLETED. That's right, Jillian Michaels. I will have your body. My deadline has just been pushed back a little.

What's frustrating is the lack of progress. Maybe I'm not really supposed to be progressing as far as losing weight goes. I'm certainly not trying to do that. But it's a very strange feeling to work out, but still have to watch the numbers on the scale make that slow, ugly climb. I know this is different. I do. It's just so hard to accept. I had finally started to realize some goals with my health and appearance. I got down to the size I wanted to be, I was able to wear a bikini with no shame for the first time in years, I was even starting to see some real muscle definition in my arms and abs - two places I never thought it would happen. To top off all the outward stuff, I was even in the best health, internally, that I've been in years. Hopefully, that's still the case. Trying to reconcile all of that with my expanding waist is just turning out to be more of a struggle than I originally thought.

At the gym, I'm walking instead of running. I tried running a couple of times, and although I'm told it's fine, it just didn't feel fine. It sent me into a panic and I had to slow down to a normal, non-jarring speed that wouldn't break the baby's neck. (Have I mentioned I'm a worrier?). I'm also still doing weights, and I'm not having to make any changes there except to not work out my abs. But WOW...there is a new level of pain I experience the next day that reminds me very much of the day after being in a car wreck. And stretching? That has turned into kind of a little eight-minute joke that I play on myself before hopping on the treadmill for my leisurely stroll. Every day, it gets harder to touch my toes, my body feels more stiff each time. Doing the stretches I'm even allowed to do at this point is making me feel...well...old.

Like I said, I know this is all ok. I know that touching my toes, and doing crunches until I'm sick and running 5 miles are things that are just going to have to wait. Maybe I just miss them though. Those things had all become something I looked forward to every day, and I wasn't ever really given the chance to say goodbye. Well, it's not goodbye. It's "see you later." And when my body belongs to me again, I'll be bringing a new friend into the relationship. A jogging stroller. With a baby in it, of course.

Houston, We Have a....

Penis.

It's a boy!

It's sort of hard to believe that something has actually gone my way, but it seems the universe has spoken, and its exact words were, "I like you, Sass. Here's a small favor." Sorry, little girl. It just wasn't your moment. Maybe next time. Although there isn't going to be a next time. I do remember saying there wasn't going to be a first time too, but look at us now. Hmmmm... Let's not go there and ruin the moment just yet.

Now I feel like one of those women who's so desperate to get married that once a man finally proposes, all she needs to do is call up all the wedding vendors to give them the green light on the plans she made three years prior. I can just take my secret list of boy things to the gettin' place now and make everything official with the scan gun. Right after I run it by Peyton, of course. I wouldn't want to be rude. He does get all of the credit for this, after all.

It took me about ten seconds after finding out I was pregnant to decide that this baby was going to be a boy. It was an immediate gut feeling. Intuition. I just knew. Well, now we are three days away from finding out if I can ever trust my instincts again, and I'm getting nervous. I have fallen in love with a little boy that I haven't even met yet, and it's going to be hard if I'm told that I'll never meet him. I'll make the necessary adjustments if that is the case, but...yeah, we'll see. Wish us luck. I've told God many, many times already that it's not too late for him to change things. No one but Him knows what's happening in baby's nether-regions, it would be our little secret. But I'm not going to dwell on this right now. We will have our answer very soon, all that's left to do is wait and eat a few pieces of cake.

In the meantime, I have done two things to get myself even more into baby-mood. Both of which back-fired. First, I browsed around on YouTube last night for birthing videos, at the suggestion of this week's advice installment on my What To Expect app. Ok, so now that I know what THAT'S all about - I'm wondering how exactly this baby plans on being born, because I'm pretty sure I'm not doing that. And all the crazy comments below the videos were about how "peaceful" and "inspiring" and "moving" it was. Not to be completely unsentimental but, I'm going to spend nine months growing this baby and will very familiar with each and every move it makes, every hiccup I endure, all the fun side-effects and mood swings. Yes...there is some fun involved in that part. I'm also really excited about holding our baby for the first time and not being in labor anymore. But the in-between part is not what I want to capture on DVD and remember for all eternity. I'll pass on that one. Baby was in my tummy, and now baby is in my arms. That's all I ever need to know. Peyton has also been given very strict instructions to remain next to my head at all times, and to never glance in the wrong direction. Never.

After losing sleep over that little episode last night, I decided today to really think about registering because it seems so much more lighthearted and pleasant. Step one...I looked at cute crib bedding and diaper bags and then sort of got stuck when I tried to think of what else we need. Step two...I found a link to a "registry checklist". Great! Someone else did the work for me! I opened it up and my jaw dropped. The font was really small and the list took up the whole page and everything was divided up into categories that I didn't even know existed. Like "Layette". I don't even know what that is, but apparently there are twenty-something things we need to register for in order to complete it. There are approximately as many things needed in order to feed a baby. Up until now, I thought there were just two and that we were already good to go on that part. But no...I will need a nursing stool. Although I really kind of just pictured myself hanging out in bed while that took place. Why would I want to sit on a stool? And can I assume that's what the "splat mat" goes under? Probably not. With my complete lack of knowledge, I'm sure it has some genius and very necessary function and in a couple of years I'll be telling a pregnant friend that I'd just have died without my splat mat.

Whatever happened to just winging it? Although, no matter how much of this stuff we actually acquire, I'm pretty sure that's what we'll be doing anyway.

The Answer is NO.

I knew the first question out of my grandmother's mouth would be, "Are you getting married?" And it was. I was prepared for that. She was very good (that day) about not bringing it up again after I firmly told her no. Since then, the china I was promised two years ago upon her eventual passing (she likes to prepare) has suddenly become conditional. Now I can have it when I get married. Isn't that cute? For a minute there, she almost had me convinced that six place settings were fair trade for committing to a lifetime with someone who doesn't really like to commit. That goes for both of us. He's been there, done that and doesn't ever want to do it again...and I make bad choices and don't really trust myself to "choose wisely". For obvious reasons. But all of this was expected. She is my conservative, Southern Baptist grandmother and truly believes there is only one way to do things. (Until recently, when she landed a boyfriend, but that's another story.)

As for co-workers, I guess I kind of thought that since this has no effect on them whatsoever, that the marriage question would not be an issue. Until this morning. I was actually asked the question, "So are you two going to make this official?" I asked what we would be making official, exactly. "Well, you know, are you going to get married?" There was actually a hand gesture that went with that part, but I'm unfamiliar with its origins. My response was, "Well you see...this is actually already very official. The baby is alive and happening and I'm not really sure how much more official a metal ring would make that." He said he was sorry. He has to say that to me a lot. However, this is the guy who has been insisting to the other knocked up chick (which is how I like to refer to us) that she simply must get a mid-wife. He's very modern in his thinking, clearly.

Suffice it to say, I will not be defending myself at any point for the decisions that Peyton and I make about our relationship. It belongs to only us, and we are the only ones who need to worry about whether or not we're married, and right now, neither one of us are worried at all. There is a baby on the way and that is much more important.

SPEAKING OF BABY!!!!

He is currently living on my right side, moving a tiny bit and has the new ability to hiccup and suck his thumb. He must also be going through a growth spurt because I'm up to about 8 meals a day. Snack-size meals, obviously. Mostly. He actually looks human now, so they say. I personally can't wait to see that for myself. We have a doctor appointment next Thursday, after many years of waiting, that will prove that for me. If things go my way, which is almost never but I'm holding out hope, we will also get to see baby's um....wiener? We're going to have to discuss what to call that once he's here and discovers it for himself, because mom's about as mature as a preschooler about that stuff. He's going to think his little thing is referred to as the sound of giggling. Things could also not go my way, and we might have a girl on our hands, but we'll cross that bridge if we come to it. (She'll have to look good in blue, that's all I'm saying.)

Chupacabra vs. Pants

Remember back when I was saying how great maternity clothes are? Well, I was referring to the jeans. Because so far, I have managed to find one...that's right, ONE PAIR...of maternity pants. They are black. Of course. Because why would anyone make maternity pants in another color? Well, I am not buying two pairs of pants that look exactly alike to wear for 5 months of my life. I'm annoyed every time I have to spend money on this stuff anyway, because there are much more important things at which I could be throwing my truckloads of cash. Stuff for the baby? Medical bills? Babyker's savings account which only seems to decrease? Pizza? Really, just about anything. Hunting for a stupid pair of unblack pants is starting to get on my nerves.

So if anyone happens to see these elusive creatures while out and about (and it's not likely) go ahead and snap a picture and send it to National Geographic. After that, come tell me the store name and its exact coordinates, and provide a hand-drawn map guiding me to the very rack on which you spotted these rarities. Just a warning, you will probably encounter Bigfoot at least twice along your journey and I'm guessing a whole pack of "mythical" chupacabras as well. Which aren't mythical at all, you know. I have one. Her name is Zoe. And she was a lot easier to get my hands on too.

Waiting

All I want to do today is hug our baby, who isn't even here yet. But all I can think about is the fact that Janelle's little sister, who gave birth to an absolutely beautiful little boy this weekend, can't even hug her baby who IS here. Reid was born with some very serious complications when part of the placenta ruptured away from the uterus and he was left without blood or oxygen for fourteen minutes. As of yesterday, he had little brain activity, was barely breathing on his own, every organ in his little body had been compromised and he was fighting to stay alive. And today...everyone's just waiting and hoping for better news after his brain scan today.

I can't even imagine going through this whole pregnancy healthy and happy, and having to face something like this at the end. The Opons are an incredibly strong family of fighters, but it is through hardship and pain that they have become that way and it just doesn't seem fair that their strength is being tested yet again. I know that they will be ok, but it would be nice if this didn't have to end with them just being ok.

I'm praying my heart out for that little boy, and for his whole family, who has waited so long to meet him.

And of course, I'm praying for our baby as well. I don't think I realized how important s/he already is to me until now.

Thank God.

Thank God that the past is what's behind me, so that I never need to look upon it again. Thank God that the mistakes I made before have led me to where I am now. Thank God I get to wake up in the mornings knowing that the day will bring peace and happiness instead of heartache and anger. Thank God that I listened to my heart and walked away when I was supposed to, and thank God for the reward I was given for doing so. Thank God I'm not a drunk and that I don't have to spend my days with one. Thank God I have found someone who makes me want to be a better person. Thank God I am now with someone who is more than I deserve and that I'm no longer with someone who made me feel like I was being punished. Thank God that the life growing inside of me will be the product of two people who are kind to each other, respect each other, love each other, and find peace with each other. Thank God I let go of the wrong person. Thank God I figured out, before it was too late, that he was so much like my father. Thank God there are so few truly good people in the world and I somehow managed to find one. Thank God I can't bring myself to settle. Thank God for giving me the strength and courage to always rise above in the end, no matter how far down others bring me. Thank God I have waited this long for all of these blessings to find me. Thank God for the life that I have built for myself by surrounding myself with the people that matter and letting go of the ones who don't. Thank God I am happy, and don't find comfort in bringing others down - what a burden that is. Thank God for knowing what was needed in our lives, even when we didn't. Thank God I am finally becoming the best version of myself. Thank God I can finally be ok with relying on my friends and family. Thank God I can finally accept the things they have to offer. Thank God for my health, which impresses even my doctor. Thank God for the "block" feature on every form of communication there is. Thank God for providing peace to others who need it more than I do right now. Thank God for helping them through whatever they are going through. Thank God I've learned to listen. I hope others are able to do the same. Thank God for watching over my safety. Thank God life goes on. Thank God for goodbyes. Thank God for all the heartache that has taught me how to heal and made me appreciate happiness. Thank God for forgiveness. Thank God for the ability to turn away from the pride and spite that resides in others. Thank God for the little tap on my shoulder and quiet whisper in my ear. Thank God for my family, blood or otherwise. Thank God it's over. Thank God it's just beginning. Thank God for all of it.

The Week In Review

So much to talk about since last week. For starters, the replacement Intelligender test arrived and this time, gave me clear results. Unfortunately for all of you, I'm not telling you what those were because all shopping has to come to a halt until until September 23rd, when an actual doctor confirms it. See how mean I am now? Sorry.

Thursday, we had another doctor visit. It mostly consisted of waiting, and then about 20 minutes of chatting with the doctor who says everything looks great. I gained one pound. We heard the baby's heartbeat again. I didn't have to endure any needles, so overall - success. We scheduled my next appointment for 5 weeks later instead of 4, which will put me at 19 weeks and therefore...we will be finding out the sex. If I have to lay there all day and wait for the baby to learn how to do somersaults, I will. We are finding out the sex that day. I don't know how some people wait for this kind of information on purpose. In other news....I will be a very patient mother. No really, I will. I'm working on it.

Here in Texas, this weekend was tax-free weekend, so we decided to do some baby shopping. Which meant looking at how cuuuute and peeerrrfect the little boys things are then forcing myself to venture over to the girls stuff and find stuff I liked there as well. There were actually some non-pink, decent looking outfits that I guess would be ok. We ended up buying two outfits. Both were three-piece pants-tee shirt-jacket combos, one for a boy, one for a girl. I like the blue one much better, in case you were wondering. We Peyton-shopped for a bit, which is so much easier and more fun than shopping for me, by the way. And then...we walked into Motherhood. Oh....NOOO.... I was immediately overcome with depression. This? This is where I am now forced to shop? It was as if I was standing in a Kmart in some indiscernible decade where Bedazzlers and polyester rule the night. The visit lasted approximately 2 minutes, which, in this horrible porthole of doom, felt like eternity. I left trying to think of creative new ways to never have to step into a pair of maternity pants as long as I live.

But never fear, the day was saved. If you were smart (like me) you jumped on last Thursday's Groupon offer, which was $50 to spend at the Gap for $25. So after leaving the mall, we headed to the Gap and I wandered over to the Gap Kids area and there, way in the back corner was the maternity section. And this, my friends, is where I regained hope. Every single thing I tried on was cute. All of it!! Even the weird, elastic-waistband jeans! Who's have guessed? So I bought pretty much everything I tried on (except for one shirt, which I accidentally stole) and left very happy. And did I mention that Peyton sat there patiently while I tried everything on and came out to show him every single outfit? I bet that was fun for him...

Fast forward to the next day, I was sick all day. The "can't get out of bed or even consider eating a bite of anything" kind of sick. Yes, the morning sickness is over. Yay. It has now been replaced by "completely sporadic sickness that hits with no warning". Ew. So onto better subjects.

We have a list of names we like, but right now, it's growing instead of being narrowed down and that's the way we want it. So please send us your suggestions!

Spoil The Child...It's Fine With Me

My little genderless, name TBD baby already has gifts pouring in, and to be honest - he/she likes it. Since the most "real" part of being pregnant right now, for me, is tossing my cookies, it's really nice to have something goodhappening that makes this a little more tangible. The only thing I should point out is that despite my obvious preference to have a boy, it is, at this point, a complete unknown. So keep those gift receipts!

Also, here is how things work in my world. I can stand next to the winningest person I know at a craps table, and they will suddenly go on a losing streak. I've never bought a lottery ticket, but when I get scratch-offs in my stocking at Christmas, I've never won more than $1. If I vote for someone, their opponent wins. So you can go ahead and count on this baby being a girl because apparently I pissed off the universe during a past life and am doomed to never win. I'm not saying I won't love a girl just as much as boy. I know I would. I'd love the baby if it turned out to be a puppy. Maybe MORE so. I just want a boy. So. Much. Which basically ruins my chances.

But despite what the baby turns out to be, it WILL be wearing it's Run DMC onesie, it WILL be a monkey for halloween next year, dress and act like a Dallas Cowboys fan, sleep in a pink-free nursery and be an adorable little chubster, if Peyton's baby pictures are any indication of what's to come. So buy whatever you want. Seriously. Neither parent knows what they are doing, so it's nothing but a huge help.

The Future is Bright

Today's entry is brought to you by Peyton, the number 5 and the letter M.

When I was a little child growing up I do not recall ever having thoughts about how many children I would have or what type of family I would have. Charlie and Karie, my brother and sister, were the ones who always said they wanted a big family, not me. It just never crossed my mind. About a year ago those thoughts for me changed. Nothing in particular changed my thinking but I truly believe God started to feed my brain and heart with something different. He started making me think what it would be like for me 10, 15, 25 years from now. He gave me visions of the future. I actually saw these in color. Would I be alone? Lonely? Would I be happy? I don’t know, but it made me sad.

When Cassidy told me she was pregnant I didn’t freak out. I did not get angry or upset but I was very stunned and shocked. After a week of this I called my mom, dad and step mom and told them what was happening and when I did they all seemed so much happier than I did. I told all 3 of them that I would get excited eventually but at that time I was still stunned and could not think straight. Dang it Peyton, this is not all about you anymore.

But after I told them something inside me clicked and all of the sudden I couldn’t stop thinking of my life yet to come and my life building a family. I have never been more excited than I am today and as each day passes the excitement grows. This life I am about to live feels to me like the answer to why I am here on Earth. I am here to be a father and soul mate and to be a builder of a family.

Sass, I cannot wait to share in parenting of our little alien growing in your belly. The future is ours and it is shinning very brightly on us. God wanted this all to happen and HE is making sure that it does. There are reasons we are here, just not everyone is listening.

Last But Not Least

I have been dreading telling my grandmother on my dad's side that I am pregnant. My sweet, VERY conservative Southern Baptist grandmother who taught me how to sit with my ankles crossed (which I never do) and told me that all make-up collections need a good, slate-blue eye shadow. That was in the late 80's, of course but still...always keep up appearances. She is the one who sent me to church camp every year, took me to church with her on Sundays, drove me back and forth to vacation Bible school, had me baptized and sang hymns to me to help me sleep. So for the past few weeks, telling her that I am pregnant with no plans to get married has been weighing pretty heavily on my sinful shoulders. But by Saturday, the time had come. Everyone else knows and it was only a matter of time before she found out from someone other than me. In the past, she has always been who I told things to first, but this...this was different. This is something I have lost sleep over. My aunt offered to go with me, told me to definitely leave Peyton at home, and we both silently prepared for me to be excommunicated from the family, or at the very least, left out of the Christmas letter this year. (It wouldn't be the first time.)

However, with the pressure on, I decided to do it my way and to take Peyton with me. He brings me peace and is the one other person who is just as much a part of this as I am. Not to mention the points it would earn him by being at my side. So we headed over to grandma's house and visited with her for a while and drank iced tea and sat in big pink chairs and I listened to her tell Peyton stories that I've heard so many times, I could probably tell them even better than she can. Then Howard called. Howard is my grandmother's boyfriend and wanted to come see her. Right then. For a few days, he has been worried that perhaps she has met someone else (which at 79, even she laughed at) so he couldn't wait for dinner to get his fix, he needed to come over much, much sooner. Howard is a dear, sweet man who showers my grandmother with affection and attention, but despite that, I had no desire to share my news with him there. So now I had about 20 minutes left at most to get the words out. I kept listening for the sound of his car outside while I tapped my fingers on the pink armrests and waited for an opening from my grandmother. I don't remember if I got one, or if I just interrupted her but finally, I was able to manage, "Well, Peyton and I have some news," while thinking, "Please don't look at my left hand, please please..."

*silence*

"We're going to have a baby."

*silence* followed by "You're kidding." (Said in a tone that said she really did believe we were kidding.)

"No, we're not kidding. And we're very excited."

"Well so am I!!!"

Whaaaat??? Grandma just said she was excited. The next few minutes were a blur as we shot down questions about marriage and got that out of the way and then she darted to the patio where she was storing some of my cousin's baby dresses and started talking about how it just has to be a girl because these little smocked dresses are expensive and not that easy to find, you know.

Somewhere in there, Howard arrived and she greeted him with, "Helloooo! We're looking at baby clothes!! They're having a baby!" And we all sat around for a few minutes and talked about how that was just fine, because these are different times, after all.

And boy, aren't they?