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.