Gaining on her

Emmie had her two-week checkup today and despite her schedule, which includes routinely going four hours between feedings and sleeping as long as five hours overnight, she gained almost an entire pound in the last 10 days.

This is so surreal to me after Mr. I Eat Every 90 Minutes blazed the trail. Jack took a full two weeks just to get back to his birth weight and Emmie was there by four days and is now up to 7 lbs 4oz at two weeks. The pediatrician said Emmie clearly knows what she needs in terms of eating and sleeping, so we should let her set the pace and not tell anyone else about her habits because they'll just hate us.

Of course what do I do? Run and blog about it on the interwebs.

Back in action

Apparently stay-at-home moms only get a two-week maternity leave. This morning, I returned to duty and took Jack to one of his classes. At 9 a.m. Holy hell that was early, considering Emmie slept in until 10 with Daddy.

But Jack was pleased to have Mommy to himself and it was nice to go run around for 45 minutes. My boobs were killing me when I got back, as Emmie had not eaten since 6 a.m., but hey, I sucked it up.

It doesn't seem possible that it was only two weeks ago that I had a baby. It's like she's been here forever. Jack also thinks the shine is off the apple as he whacked her in the head but good again tonight. But then a few hours later, we all read "Goodnight Moon" together before he went to bed and he was all grins and niceness to her. He just smiled and gently touched her foot and generally played the part of good big brother.

Here's my girl at two weeks:

34

Today I turned 34. Wow. Just typing that I felt older. Ugh. Get out the walker.

So far it's been a pretty delightful day. The girl child slept most of the time and I was able to sleep about 11 hours overnight, with a few wakeups here and there. The boy child was looked after by the grandparents and Josh and myself and was rather genial. We built a lego tower and read some books.

Josh and I saw a movie (Atonement) this afternoon and we're going out to dinner this evening, just the two of us. There will be wine consumed. I am very excited.

The big birthday began yesterday when my sister and her boyfriend came to visit and along with my parents, we all went out to dinner. With both children. Emmie slept the entire time and Jack was a model of good manners at the table. Oh! And we had red velvet cake from Fox & Obel. OHMYGOD. I can't express how fabulous this cake is. Tomorrow, Josh's family will come and we'll all go out to dinner then as well. I do so love the three-day celebration!

My husband and son got me flowers this morning and my daughter chipped in with a rice krispie treat. Between the snacks and the cake, I might not be fitting in these jeans for long. But all hail the magic nursing weight loss!

He's warming up to her

I think he might be starting to like her. Maybe. There was some posing for pictures and he actually offered her his milk and a piece of sandwich yesterday and he only tried to hit her once.

I would call that a success.

In other Emmie news, she's still sleeping a lot. Which is great. But when I say a lot, I mean she slept from 3-8:45 a.m. and while that is awesome and I am SO NOT COMPLAINING, I am teeny tiny bit worried about a breastfed baby sleeping so long at night. Again, NOT COMPLAINING. Just wondering. I also have to wake her every three hours during the day to eat.

I am not used to this not-eating-every-hour thing in a newborn after Jack did just that for what seems like forever and a day. But she's having tons of wet and poopy diapers, so I think she's getting enough to eat. We shall see what the pediatrician thinks at her two-week checkup next Thursday.

Jean pool

This morning I put on a pair of pre-pregnancy jeans. And they fit with no problems. I can breathe, bend, squat, etc. with nary any tightness.

Granted, these are my "fat" pre-pregnancy jeans. And I have a ways to go before I am in the new-and-improved size from last spring right before I got pregnant. BUT, I am still back in my jeans.

Josh told me good job and Jack ran around laughing while I did a little dance, shaking my ass so everyone could see my jeans. Emmie could have cared less. Dude, I birth you and feed you, the least you could do is open your eyes to see the results.

Yes, I am gloating. Yes, I am vain. But a mere seven days after giving birth? I feel the need to shout it from the rooftops.

Sleeping beauty

My daughter, unlike my son at this age, apparently knows the value of getting enough sleep to ward off dark circles and crabbiness. Last night she slept from 1-6:30 a.m. I had to wake her up to eat at 6:30 as my boobs were KILLING me. (That's right, we've returned to talk of the boobs again. It's not even been a year since I stopped nursing Jack. It's like coming full circle.)

Earlier in the evening, Josh had been holding her while I was giving Jack his bath. Evidently, she was hungry and he was trying to ward off the crying jag with the pinky-in-the-mouth-like-a-pacifier trick.

He snapped at me to hurry up and he could finish putting Jack to sleep because she was hungry. I said fine, but she seemed quiet enough. He said that's because he had his pinky in her piehole.

"And she's really sucking hard," he said. "She bruised me! You need to take her."

As my eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and I am about the scream at the top of my lungs, I calmly say instead, "My nipples have no sympathy for your freaking PINKY FINGER."

Later, I asked why he had not loaded the dishwasher and then quickly added, "Oh, that's right, your pinky must be too bruised and sore."

Hit me with your best shot

So last we left each other, I was in the hospital recovering and Emmie was a wee one day old. Oh how much has changed.

We came home Friday afternoon and introduced Emmie to her new surroundings. Jack greeted us at the door and seemed excited to see us, proclaiming, "Bee! Bee!" (That's Jack's shorthand for Baby. He is all about saving time by shortening words to one syllable. He has too much going on to talk in full words and sentences, clearly.)

He sat on the couch very nicely with us, posed for some pictures with his new sister and then promptly forgot about her and went about his business.

Whoever had 7:12 p.m. on Day 1 at home in the "First Time Emmie Gets Walloped In Her Noggin" pool is the big winner.

Jack waltzed over to me while I was holding her in the chair and I should have known by the malicious grin on his face what was up. In a split second he had whacked her on the head and she was wailing.

Not wanting to get into a situation where we are punishing him in regards to the new baby, I sternly told him we do not hit people because it hurts them and makes them very sad. Emmie was very sad she got hit and was crying.

I then said to him "Hands are not for hitting, what are hands for?" He has a book about hitting and this is the refrain, with several alternatives on what to do with your hands such as saying hello or waving goodbye.

He ran to get the book and the three of us, Jack, Emmie and I, all read it together.

Since that time he's run the gamut from indifferent to hostile and back again. For the most part, he ignores her and anyone holding her. Yesterday he fell and usually he is all about Mommy when he is hurt. But I was holding Emmie in one arm and offering him a hug with the other and he looked away and went to Daddy instead.

There's been a few attempts at hitting her again and one incident this evening when he might have tried to throw a cell phone at her in the pack 'n play. But he'll also have these awesome moments where he will bring her a bear or kiss her goodnight.

I know he'll come around and this is totally normal. I had a talk with him last night after he tried to shut the refridgerator door on me and said I know things are changing around here and he doesn't have the words to tell us how he is feeling, but that he can't hurt people because it makes them sad.

He looked very solemnly at me and then kissed me. I think he gets it. He just needs a little time.

A four family

Some crazy person took over my blog yesterday. Apparently he is having delusions of grandeur and taking over SnarkyMommy full time. Mmmhmmm. Not happening.

Actually I must thank Josh for his tireless blogging of the birth and his ability to make me laugh while in labor. It's good to know he can make me giggle even with an oxygen mask on my face. That's a sign of true love. He did a great job.

Anyway. Wow. I have two kids! Emmie is great and sleeping all the time and she finally got in a good breastfeeding session and I am so in love with her. Jack was her first visitor this morning and he was non-plussed. He gave her the bunny we bought for him to give her, presented him with the bear she got him and then we gave him his tool belt, a present for being the Big Brother from Mommy and Daddy.

Well once he had the toolbelt, forget about everything else. Baby? What baby? Where's my hammer? I need to get this screw in the wall right now. But he was well-behaved and we got some great pictures and when we come home tomorrow, he'll probably freak out when he sees we brought that thing from the hospital home with us!

Without further ado, here are a couple pictures.


We'll need a table for four now.

Emmie on Day 1.

Introducing...

Emily Jean!

Weighing in at 6lbs 8 oz and a length of 20 inches.

Live blog of the birth below, pictures of Emmie to follow.

It's Go Time!!!

Hi, I'm Josh, Amy's hot, wicked smart, all-around wonderful husband. She may have not mentioned the wonderful part before. Or the hot part. Or even the wicked smart part. But I assure you, it's all true.

Anyhow, we're about to have a baby here and I'm live-blogging the birth, so I guess that's my key to start and here I am. So let's do it...

3:15 - Amy says "I'm feeling weird. I think my water is going to break today." I assume she's nuts and go back to work (at home).

4:35 - Water breaks. She's on the bed and I bring her some towels. She holds them between her legs and makes her way to the bathroom. She says "Maybe I just pee'd my pants". She spends a few minutes in the bathroom and determines, she didn't just pee two gallons, it was in fact the water breaking.

4:40 - I call my sister Marnie who has her fiance, Thabu, at our place in like 10 minutes. Nice! Jack wakes up from his nap and I tell him "I hope you enjoyed your nap buddy, because it will be your last as the center of the universe in this house" He says "poo". Likely not because of what I have just informed him, but because he does in fact have a dirty diaper.

4:45 - Amy takes a shower. I should probably do that to. I don't want baby to be scared off by dirty, smelly Daddy.

5:15 - I told Amy to take a cab to the hospital and call me when she and the baby were ready to come home, but apparently that isn’t flying. I don’t see what the big deal is. I was present for the birth of Jack, and there was a whole lot of waiting around as I recall. Frankly, it got to be a bit boring. Plus, if you’ve seen one birth, you’ve seen them all, right? I’ve seen it twice now – when Jack was born and I saw it in the movie “Knocked Up” as they show you a little more than you probably had bargained for in that flick. I’m not the type that likes to see the same movie over and over and I’m pretty sure I might be the same way about births.

5:20 - Amy informs me that I am the type that likes to see births over and over. I learn more and more about myself every day. She also tells me that seeing that birth in Knocked Up doesn’t really count, but I’m pretty sure it does. I’ll ask the doctor.

5:30 - Yes, her water broke an hour ago and yes, we're still getting ready. Cameras, Ipod, Chapstick, Laptops, Beer - you know all the necessities one couldn't possibly have a baby without. (unfortunately, I am kidding about the beer. Maybe.)

5:35 - Amy is still leaking. The water doesn't just break and its done. It goes on and on. (She was induced for Jack, so we didn't experience the sudden break of the ol' water). There are towels all over the place. Maybe a cab wouldn't be such a bad idea...

5:40 - Amy only has three pages left in her really good book she was reading when her water broke and she hasn't been having any contractions. We can go to the hospital after she finishes the book. I ask her if she wants to catch a movie before we go also. Since we apparently aren't in any hurry.

5:50 - All packed up and in the car. No fur coat for Amy as she had hoped for. She didn't want bodily fluids marring it. I feel the same way about the car... its towels all around.

6:00 - Amy informs me that we'll be parking in the garage at the hospital. Clearly, I could have found a nice free spot on the street if she gave me 5 minutes. When we were at the house she had to read those last three pages of the book, but now suddently we're in a great big hurry.

6:10 - Good evening OB Triage, its been too long. We're quickly escorted into a cubicle type area with curtains splitting us from other areas. Amy has her first contraction.

6:30 - Amy has changed into her baby-having fatigues and is now laying down leaking on the bed (better than the car I say). A nurse has her hooked up to the contraction monitor. She has a sizable contraction - reporting that its only a 2 out of 10 on the pain scale. Sounds pretty weak to me - clearly she doesn't need an epidural. Another nurse comes in and asks her a series of questions about diseases. She asks if I'm working on the laptop and Amy informs her I'm live-blogging the birth. I add "so don't mess anything up" She doesn't find me funny.

6:35 - They confirm that Amy was actually just peeing herself all over the house and car, her water never broke... just kidding. Its the real deal.

6:40 - The waiting begins... a nurse does Amy's IV. No contractions lately.

6:45 - Contraction. Actually, looking at the monitor, contractions are 6 minutes apart. But we still don't know how effaced or dilated she is. The doctor is supposed to come anytime now to give us this info.

6:50 - For my guy friends reading this... No hot nurses. Bummer. Maybe the labor and delivery area will come through, because OB Triage isn't having a strong showing today.

7:05 - Contractions still every 6 minutes. The doctor is here. Actually a resident. So does that even count? I don't think so. We'll call her the fake doctor. Anyway, she asks a million more questions. Some that the nurse already asked before. Don't they share notes? Its like when I call my credit card company and they make me key in my number and then the customer service rep asks me for it five seconds later... but I digress. The doctor asks about the water break, the contractions, family diseases, drugs, the cerclage, you know, the types of small talk you would make with a stranger in an elevator.

7:15 - After 10 minutes of questions, Amy spreads 'em, the resident slaps on some rubber gloves, and goes down for a look. She comes back up and we finally have some numbers to work with... she's 70 percent effaced and 2 cm dilated. And the fun doesn't really begin until she's at 10. Go get some dinner folks and cancel Bowling League or whatever you had planned tonight... its going to be a long evening.

7:20 - A nurse comes back in with some papers to sign. One about leaving your baby unattended, one about insurance, and one about baby carseats. I say to the nurse "you mean they make special seats for babies?" The nurse reamains stone faced. I just don't have it tonight. I tell Amy I should call Matt or Jimmie, my lawyer buddies, to come look over the paperwork before she signs anything. She rolls her eyes and signs away. I bet that small print is going to come back and bite us in the ass... Contractions still every 6 minutes.

7:25 - They're moving us to labor and delivery (and maybe to some hot nurses... or at least to one with a sense of humor?)

7:30 - Get this. They come to get us with only one wheel chair. And that's not even the kicker... its for Amy, not for me. Dude, my fingers are tired from all this typing and now I'm expected to walk all the way to labor and delivery? And that's not all, I have to carry all of Amy's stuff - which by the way you would think we were going to Hawaii for two weeks if you saw the five bags I have to carry.

7:40 - Jackpot! The nurse is hot and I'm pretty sure she wants me. She gave me sheets and a pillow and told me where I'd be sleeping the second we got in the room. If that's not a come on I'm not sure what is.

7:50 - All settled in the room where its all going to happen. They gave Amy the bed and me a chair. I'm pretty sure that was a mistake, and it should be the other way around, but I'll mention it to Amy later. Amy tells the nurse she wants the epidural pronto. I tell her me too and she gives me the stone face. On second thought, she's not that hot anyway.

8:00 – The doctor comes in (the real doctor this time) and laughs about us taking two hours to get to the hospital after Amy called two hours ago. He says we’re going to start some ptocin and the epidural. Amy tells him she doesn’t want any fake doctors (she is nice about it and calls them “residents”) delivering the baby. The doctor says the residents on the floor all all pros (one has been here a whopping 3 months now, he mentions). Amy says that all is well and good, but we’ll take his ten years experience over their 3 months.

8:15 – The nurse comes in to prep Amy for the Epidural. Amy scores a sexy hairnet out of the deal. The nurse also gets her started on some “Pit”. “Pit” is short for ptocin and apparently its what all the cool kids are calling it these days as the doctor used it before and now the nurse too. The anesthesiologist comes in and he goes into the same questions the fake doctor and the nurse went into earlier. Seriously, are these people this backwards? Are they also using an abacus and a typewriter? I’m sent out of the room so he can stick a great big needle in her back. Amy reminds me this is four needles in her bac in the past two years. I respond “Needles? Who needs stinking needles? I’d go all-natural baby.”

8:45 – I’m back in the room. If I would have known it was going to take so long I would have gotten some food. I’m starving. So apparently while the anesthesiologist was painfully trying to push the needle into Amy’s back, another nurse comes in and they go into a 10 minute conversation about some other patients – nothing critical – as the doctor continues to push. Amy finally says “can you have this discussion later please”. The nurse apologizes and leaves. Contractions up to every two minutes.

8:50 – Get this. While I was waiting in the hall there is this bulleten board with a chart titled “Handwashing Hygiene” and this hospital is at a whopping 40% with a goal of 60%. Three thoughts come to mind after seeing this: 1) There are some people with some dirty-ass hands at this hospital 2)Their goal was 60% - what 70% would have been asking too much?. 3) They chose to make this information public? 4) How do they collect this information - are there hidden cameras in the bathroom? Ok, so 4 thoughts come to mind, not 3... I got a little agressive.

9:10 - The nurse and doctor both come in to check Amy. She's still at 2 cm and having contractions every 2 minutes. Apparently the contractions are still painful, even with the epidural. I just want all of you out there to know that despite all of these needles, contractions and tubes running all over the place, I'm still feeling great! Really, I don't know what all the fuss is about from Amy. Because if I continue to feel like I do right now, this birthing stuff is going to be a breeze. I could do it every day. The doctor tells Amy that he'll check back and hopefully the epidural will kick in.

10:15 - You'd think that after such a long break something exciting would be happening. Well, something exciting did happen - I got to eat. Not Amy though, she apparently is on a diet of ice chips until after the birth. Don't worry, I was sure to tell her how delicious each bite of my pizza was so she could share in the pleasure I was having. What are caring husbands for? The contractions continue every two minutes. No update on the dilation yet.

10:30 - Did I mention its going to be a long night? Amy and I are hanging out watching the 19" Zenith TV in our room. Hey, hospital, the 1970's called and they want their TV back. Furthermore, there's nothing on. With the writer's strike going on, you're all pretty lucky to have me tonight. Actually, if the nurses are any judge, I'm not that funny. Better go back to your reruns. No news on the baby front...

10:55 - Big news. The doctor is back and checking things out as the baby's heart rate had dropped. We're at 5 cm. Amy is on her side and the baby's heart rate is back to good - up around 150. The heart rate drops when she has contractions, but the baby is facing down like it should be at a 0 station, and her cervix has thinned 100%. They're putting the monitor on the baby's head as we speak. Hopefully things keep moving along...

11:10 - I’d like to point out that last time during Jack’s birth I was given two rules by Amy – I couldn’t bring my laptop and I couldn’t make calls on my cell phone at all until after the birth. (Alas – I found a perfectly legal loophole, text messaging, Amy was none too pleased). This time she’s told me to bring my laptop and post messages all day long. What a difference two years make. It reminds me of when I got caught drinking in high school – my parents grounded me and put me in therapy. Two years later they were hosting drinking parties for my younger sister... isn’t life funny...

11:30 - Amy's feeling a lot of pressure. With every contraction she feels an immense urge to push. Not sure what this means, but baby could be visiting us soon. I, on the other hand, am not feeling any pressure at all. Again, I'm not sure what Amy's deal is. This birthing thing is a piece of cake for me. I should write a book.

11:50 - More big time pressure. The doctor comes... and its really go time. The baby is right there, head visible! The docter says she might have pushed it out herself if she let her go longer. Everybody's running around getting ready for the big push!

11:56 pm January 16th - Emily Jean is born. We're going to call her Emmie. There was literally zero pushing this time. They asked Amy not to let her come out before they could gown up and she contracted her out. Emmie's a beauty (thankfully it looks like she has gotten her looks from her mother, not dad). Excuse the sappy post, but I just want to say, my wife is a superstar! This whole experience has proved to me once again, I am indeed the luckiest guy in the world. Even after pushing out little Emmie, she's looking as beautiful, upbeat, and witty as ever. And she's such an amazing mother to Jack already, little Emmie is in such great hands. Amy, I can't imagine where I would be with out you... I love you.

12:10 - Emmie weighs in at 6 lbs 8 oz and a length of 20 inches. She's a heavyweight like her father. This is two weeks before her actual due date, so being on the light side is to be expected I suppose.

12:30 - Emmie has been awfully quiet, just like Jack was the first 24 hours. I remember Amy and I thinking - wow, he doesn't cry, we're the luckiest parents in the world. Wow, did Jack have a little surprise for us after that first day, he found his voice and in a big way. I'm sure Emmie will do the same. Amy's feeding her now. She's been sucking away on her hands from the second she came out, so she's doing a decent job for her first boob.

1:00 - I sure hope Amy doesn’t want me to stay over at the hospital tonight with the baby. I did that last time and Jack cried like every hour and woke me up, plus all they have for the guests to sleep on is this crappy fold out chair that is about as comfortable as sleeping on nails. Maybe even less. And then they give her this big comfortable bed right next to me – just to rub it in apparently. I’m not really into sleepovers anyway. Plus, if I sleep at home I can have the whole bed to myself and my parents are staying at our place so they can get up with Jack in the morning. I can sleep in! I’m sure Amy will agree this is an excellent idea.

1:30 - Amy informs me that I am all about sleepovers. I’m really learning a lot about myself today. Maybe she’ll at least give me the bed and she’ll take the chair. That’s only fair as I took the chair last time. Right? I’m not really a chair sleeper anyway.

1:55 - Have I mentioned how much I love sleeping in chairs? Because I do, or so I’ve been told. That’s what I’ll be doing for the next two nights. I’m kind of glad because our big comfortable, quiet bed at home will sit empty for the next couple of nights and it could use a break for a few nights anyway. They're about to move us to the mother-baby room (father is conveniently left out) where we'll go to sleep. So this will be my last post. For those of you that have stuck it out until the end, you've won a cash prize of 1 million dollars. Just post a comment within the next minute and the prize is yours. Goodnight...

Party planning

With the impending birth of Girl Baby, which is apparently never happening because I don't feel at all like I am making more progress, I have been forced to get organized early on Jack's soon-to-be-here second birthday.

Oh my holy hell, my child is turning 2 in three weeks. How did that happen?

So I ordered the big gift (it's a Kettler tricycle! We could have paid our mortgage or gotten this trike; I told Josh defaulting is the new black!), it arrived today and I am so excited to give it to him I don't want to wait.

I also bought some of the smaller gifts last week, the same day I bought his Big Brother presents from us and the baby and his Little Sister present to give to the baby at the hospital.

An aside: if you've never taken your child to a toy store without a cart or a stroller, well then you've never lived. Also an aside: we went to the toy store that Angelina Jolie took her kids to when they were visiting Chicago. We're so cool.

That same day I purchased all the party paraphernalia that I could find with Elmo's mug on it and the invites were sent out this week. I am proud to say the only thing we'll need to take care of is getting cupcakes and pizza the day of the party.

Since I will likely be tired, fat and leaking milk, we decided to just host a small party for kids at our place. For 90 minutes, everyone can eat and drink and play and then everyone is getting the hell out at naptime. That's my kind of party.

Crabby old ladies

Today's Baby Watch 2008 update: nothing to report. After yesterday's spotting and contractions post-appointment, today has been full of nothing at all. I am glad of it, to be honest. We're going to a movie tonight and I kind of like the idea of managing this birth next Tuesday, so there we have it.

Let me share with you my little story of annoyance from this weekend. I decided to run away from home for the afternoon, doing frivolous things like going to the post office to mail Jack's birthday party invitations and then stopping at a mall. I needed to return some pajamas and I wanted to get some new eye cream. Craziness, I know.

So I return the pajamas first. I park, relatively close to one of the store's entrances, and saunter in to the first counter I see. Let's remember: more than nine months pregnant, not in the mood for any bullshit.

As any fool knows, you can return anything at any counter in a department store. You don't need to go directly to the department from whence it came. So I inform the woman I have a return.

This particular store, Carson Pirie Scott, only appears to employ crabby women over the age of 60. I am not kidding, every time I have ever gone to Carson Pirie Scott, which is a lot over my lifetime, I have never been waited on by someone not matching this description.

This old lady looks at my return and says, "This is from the lingerie department!" Well, yes, they are pajamas, but I suppose they live over there. I look at her and say, "Well, you can return them at any counter, right?"

"Yes," she replies. "But then I would have to walk them all the way over there to put them back. So..."

I look at her and with as level a voice as possible, say, "Well I am nine-and-a-half-months pregnant and I call tell you, I would rather you walk over there than me."

She looks down at the belly and then looks annoyed and says, "Well. Umm. Yes. I guess it's fine then."

But my annoying clerks story doesn't stop there. I go on to the next establishment, Bloomingdales, where I am continuing my fruitless search for a new eye cream. A bit of history: I have been looking for a new eye cream to battle my genetic dark circles since August. No joke.

I have tried many, many creams to no avail. (If you have one you like, for chronic dark circles, please do share.) I have committed myself to trying samples of each brand for at least two weeks to see if they make a difference. Then I move on to a new brand.

At Sephora and Ulta, the clerks could not have been more helpful and willing to let me try different samples. They were so generous with their product, I probably could have kept myself in eye cream for free for the rest of the year.

My friend, she of the Supacoo blog, suggested Borghese eye cream. They only sell it around here at Bloomingdales, so that brings us to the present day with me standing at the Borghese counter.

The saleswoman asks if I need help and I say a friend recommended the eye cream and I would like to try it out before I commit to plunking down $100 for something that might not work.

She smoothly tells me they don't have samples. I respond by asking could she please make one up from her tester then, in a small pot? She looks annoyed, but goes to the drawer and pulls out a small pot and puts about a drop in there.

She then haughtily looks at me and says, "Well you can take this, but I can tell you, you'll need to use at LEAST a half-tube of this product before you see a difference. You won't see anything after using this small amount."

"Perhaps you could give me a little more then, so I can get a sense of it," I say. "I have been trying various eye creams looking for one that works and most stores have been willing to work with me."

She recoils, I am not kidding, and says in the most dramatic voice possible, "I can't POSSIBLY give you that much product. I find it hard to believe others did. What store would DO that?"

I reply, "Sephora. Which clearly appreciates my business more. I'm not trying to steal eye cream here. I am just trying to find something that works without wasting a lot of money."

She drops the pot in the bag, and says, "Sorry I could not be of more help. You can contact our manager if you would like. Here's her card."

Lady. You're selling COSMETICS. At a DEPARTMENT STORE. You're not Coco Chanel. get over yourself and divvy out the samples. GOD.

Small progress at 38 weeks

Sorry for the lack of update yesterday, but when there's nothing to report, it gets a little boring. So yesterday, nothing good was happening, but I was having contractions seven minutes apart last night. But of course they stopped after about an hour. Bah.

Today was my weekly appointment. I went in expecting not to have made much progress, and told my OB I was betting I was about 2 cm. She said I was juuuuust barely 2 cm, but the head was right there. We forgot to talk about effacement, so I have no number for you there, but with the head right there, I am guessing I am almost fully thinned out.

She also measured the old belly, just for kicks since they stop measuring at 36 weeks because the dropping head can skew the measurements, and I was measuring 34 weeks at 38 weeks. Everyone keeps saying I sure don't look like I am due in two weeks, and I don't think I do either, so there's some confirmation.

I should be pleased with 2 cm, but I was all bummed and whining to my mom on the phone after my appointment. You have this cervix, which is really quite a crappy cervix in general, and for all those weeks you try to keep it in line. And then you open the gates, so to speak, and it decides to play nice. No fair.

But 2 cm is a lot better than 0 cm and no hope of being induced next Tuesday. I would imagine I will probably be 3 cm by then -- and when I say I imagine, I mean I will be doing everything in my power to move things along this week -- and everything will be fine.

However. When I tried to make my 39-week appointment for next Monday, the receptionist cheerily announced my OB was not in next week. Until Thursday. WHAT? You can imagine the look of panic on my face that accompanied that annoucement. After pleading with her to please, for the love of all things holy, check with the nurse to see what the deal was, it was found that my OB will be around, just not seeing patients because of her teaching schedule. She didn't even know herself that she was out next week.

After I ceased breathing into a paper bag, they made me an appointment with one of the other doctors in the practice and assured me my OB would indeed be available for the induction next Tuesday. I am still not convinced, but I am refusing to think about it.

So who's got some great ideas for dilating the old cervix?

Move along

No baby. Moderate amount of contractions. Some stabbing pains in the cervix. That about sums up my day. I feel not a flicker of impending labor. So that's my update.

Shaking my fist at the sky

Remember yesterday when I said I wasn't having very many contractions? Apparently the Gods of Childbirth decided to stick it to me and I have been cursed with them since last night.

Not non-stop, but enough of them to be annoying and some of them are starting to get a little painful. I am trying to ignore those. I like to think I am doing a good job as I managed to get through Gymboree class this morning and then took Jack to lunch and am now running several loads of laundry up and down the stairs.

Last night's contractionfest started around 9 p.m. My husband, conveniently out drinking with his friends, was instructed to ANSWER THE DAMN PHONE if I call him and not to drink too much. I can't be taking a drunkard into Labor & Delivery, not to mention the fact he needs to drive me there. (His solution: We could take a cab! My solution: How about I punch you in the face!)

I called him after I had about four contractions, 10 minutes apart. You know, just to keep him in the loop. No answer. I call again. No answer. I wait a while, call again. You can see where this is going.

TWO HOURS LATER he finally sees he has about eleventy-hundred missed calls from Home and calls me. Apologizing profusely, saying he could not understand why the phone was not vibrating. "Oh," he said sheepishly. "That would be because it's not on vibrate. I'm sorry."

Stuff your sorrys in a sack mister.

He asked should he come home, I said probably not, thinking they were not real anyway. I told him to just answer the phone when I call. With that he announced he would be home in a little while because he did not think they would be staying out that late. It was about 11:15 p.m. when we had this conversation and I went to sleep immediately afterward.

AT 1:30 HE ROLLS IN TO THE BEDROOM. Can you tell I am so pleased with this?

So after all that, I have a few more during the night and then a few more this morning and afternoon and here we are. I imagine there will be a slight change to my dilation by Monday with all this activity, but I am not convinced I will be in labor any time soon.

Nary a sign

Another day, another "nothing to report." But I am pleased with this week's non-progress as it allows me to get to tomorrow night and Josh's company holiday party. It's at a club downtown and while I can't drink or wear anything remotely appropriate for a club, I am looking forward to it.

The contractions could, perhaps, be considered a little more numerous today. By no means anything to get excited about, mostly non-painless and just tight. But it's still something. Could be the fact Jack keeps asking me to sit on the floor and build lego towers or read books. The floor, and the getting down to it and getting up from it, is not so easy to navigate at this stage.

But let me tell you about my exciting day. We slept in until 9 (another post for next week, but my child's ear infection several weeks ago reset his sleep pattern and he now routinely sleeps until 8:30 a.m. or later) and then went to the bank and hosted a playdate. After naptime, we went to the grocery store and I whipped up chicken and potatoes for dinner. By the time Josh got home from work, Jack was fed and happy and the house was clean.

I asked Josh if there was anything more he could ask from his stay-at-home wife extraordinaire. He told me he had a list, would I like it. Hardee har har. Comedian.

What Jack's up to at 23 months (and a pregnancy update)

Pregnancy Watch 2008: A few more contractions than normal, mostly Braxton Hicks in nature, but nothing painful or earth-shattering. Although, this child is dropping further into my pelvic cavity than I ever thought possible. This is causing some eye-popping groin pain that actually had me gripping the countertop during lunch prep today. I might be the first woman in the history of childbirth to have the baby fall out without the aid of a contraction.

I don't think I am dilating any more, but I am likely effacing based on the lowness of the head. My medical degree from Google is really coming in handy now.

Other than that, nothing to report. Move along.

There have been some great strides made in the world of Jack recently. I have been remiss in sharing them, so let's have us some bullet-y goodness.

* This week, he looked up at the sky while on a walk and said, "Plane?" And I said yes, that's where planes fly, up in the sky, but I did not see any right then. He thought about it for a second and said, "Daddy, go?" I almost jumped up and down. Yes! Daddy did go in a plane last week! The fact he remembered we talked about it a whole week before and that he used a pronoun/verb combo for the first time made me really proud.

* He has peed on the potty every day (except one) for the last 10 days. A few times, he's even gone twice. Although I have never personally witnessed the stream myself, I have taken reliable word for it.

* He is adding new words to his vocabulary in a fast and furious manner. While they are mostly still one syllable of a two-syllable word, it's a start. We're working more on him saying two syllables, in the hopes he will start catching on.

* He has a wicked skin reaction to strawberries. Last week, we started giving him freeze-dried strawberries as a snack because he won't eat any fruit other than applesauce. He loved them, of course, and then broke out in a horrid fit of eczema, the likes of which we have not seen since he had his milk intolerance this time last year. We deduced it was the same reaction his Grandpa gets when he eats too many strawberries, so perhaps this one runs in the family.

* He is getting more interested in the baby paraphernalia covering the house. He saw the bassinette all set up in our room and pointed to it and said, "Baby!" He's never seen one before this, so who knows where he learned that. But he's really into reading his book about a new baby coming home and kissing my belly. He also smacks the hell out of my belly with an evil grin on his face and has to be reminded to be very gentle with Mommy's belly and the baby.

* Our rule of doling out one Christmas gift per day has been going quite well. He doesn't get overwhelmed by too much stuff and it gives him something new each day. We're keeping the toy overload in the house at a minimum this way, by subtracting an old toy for the addition of a new one. Although we still have way too many toys, even after purging a ton of them to Grandma's house right before Christmas.

* He gets so excited when I put him in the car and tell him to climb into his carseat while I open the gate to the alley. By the time I turn around from getting it all situated, he has crawled in and is waiting for me to buckle him with a HUGE grin on his face. This is going to be so helpful when I have an infant seat to load up as well.

* The tantrums are starting to rear their ugly heads. Prime example: if he can't balance 37 pieces of Tupperware at once and carry them the 20 feet from the cabinet to the couch, he falls to pieces and laments his entire existence.

* He's totally into bags right now. He carries a cell phone and a little toy phone and a shape-sorter in an Elmo backpack and then loads various other items into my old Victoria's Secret shopping bags and carries those around too. He picks them up and says "bye" and then waves and announces he is going to "school" or to buy "cheese" with them. He walks around the kitchen island and then runs back to us with a huge smile on his face, waving and saying "Hi" and we welcome him back. It's hysterical. And played roughly 117 times a day.

Of course there are a million funny things I am forgetting, but just wanted to catch up on a few things off the top of my head.

The one where I scrub the floors

There is NOTHING like scrubbing the floors, on your hands and knees, when you are 37 weeks pregnant. Seriously, you should try it some time.

Today a certain someone flung an entire bowl of carrots (yes, baby food carrots. Yes we still consume baby food veggies in this house. You may now commence with throwing of stones.) on the floor. And the fireplace marble. And the rug. Instead of spot cleaning, I knew it was better to go whole hog.

And you just can't properly scrub a floor without getting down on your hands and knees. So there I was, at naptime, scrubbing the floor for the first time since July. Dsiclaimer: my floors have indeed been scrubbed, just not by me and not up to the exacting standards I so highly set for myself.

After that I cleaned some more things around the house. I oppose calling this "nesting" because it's really more like me trying to get my stay-at-home-mom groove back on. Sort of like running errands all morning -- fun! I can lift Jack into a cart! We can buy mass quantities of Kleenex and toilet paper at Costco!

And wouldn't you know it, I didn't have a single contraction from this adventure. I am a little sore from all the bending, but that's to be expected. I don't expect I will be feeling so up to scrubbing the floors in a few weeks, but then Josh can take over until I am sufficiently healed. That way, I can bitch about how he does them again and we all love that.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes (not)

I had my OB appointment this afternoon and as I suspected before going, there were no changes since Friday. This is good news!

I am a loose 1 cm dilated and about 70 percent effaced. I realize this could all chnage in a nanosecond and my water could break, but I feel pretty confident saying I think I will make it through this week without pushing a baby out of my crotch.

We even walked about two miles yesterday when we took Jack to the zoo and it didn't cause a single serious contraction. Incompetent? Hell no. I think my cervix is shedding it's label and rehabbing its image with a media consultant. And don't think I wouldn't post a picture of it if I could. I just can't figure out how to get a good shot of it.

About that trip to the zoo. You see, we are having some bizarre weather phenomenon here in Chicago right now. Yesterday it was 61 degrees, yes on Jan. 6, and today we have already hit 65. We went to the park and the zoo yesterday and we stopped at the park again this morning and hope to squeeze in an afternoon trip before it starts to storm. I know it will not last after tomorrow, but my gosh, it's delightful to be outside and let the child run around, burn off some energy and actually get some fresh air in his lungs. We have the windows in the house open right now -- this is crazy.

So Babywatch 2008 continues, albeit in a rather boring format. Josh will be going to the office tomorrow, that would be two hours away, which will ensure I go into full-out labor just as he arrives so he can turn around and drive right back again with me calling him every 30 seconds to ask if he is here yet. Don't you wish you were him?

Stitch-free area

If you are at all squeamish, or would rather not be privy to the contents of my girlie parts, then perhaps you should tune back Monday. Because today's post is going to be all cervix all the time.

The cerclage is out and I am relieved. But it was not so much fun having it removed and I would equate the experience to having all my fingernails pulled out one by one with a pliers. A rusty pliers.

When I arrived, I was a wee bit uptight. Or so my blood pressure indicated, considering it was 112/89. My normal is a coma-like 100/60, so I would say I might have been a bit nervous. Of course my outward appearance betrayed none of that, as I breezed in with full makeup, straight hair, jewelry, cute outfit and my fur coat. Because you can't take out a stitch in your cervix without your fur, natch.

They get me all set and call my OB and she comes down and we get down to work. And she digs. And she grabs. And she snips. And she digs. And she grabs. And she digs. And she grabs.

I am sweating bullets by this point, squeezing my opposite hand and doing some serious deep breathing. I can tell you what each of the ceiling tiles above the bed looked like and where all the water spots were. I was silently trying to decide if this was an acceptable form of torture for prisoners at Guantanamo. I would say the resounding answer is NO.

Then the discussion about the gauze used to stanch the bleeding began and it was determined that the old 4x4s would have been awesome, except they don't let them use them in the triage room anymore so we had to make do with the 2x2s. I have no idea what in the sam hell this means, except I hope no one was driving an SUV through the speculum. Although with all the pain, I really can't be sure.

About 25 gauze pads later, my OB said she thought "the oozing" had stopped and that she was done. She muttered something about talking to the perinatalogist about tying his knots on the side and checked my progress.

Lookee, lookee: immediately after removal I dilated to 1 cm and she pronounced my cervix very short. I was monitored for about 20 minutes and I think any contractions were very minor, so they sent me on my merry way. I was there an hour and 15 minutes total.

I came home and tried to pick Jack up and he looked at me like a crazy person. I guess he knew what was up after 21 weeks, but then he deemed me worthy and has not stopped asking "uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhpppppppppp" all day. It's nice to be loved.

My smug self was feeling pretty positive until about 2:45 p.m. when I started contracting with some serious intensity, four minutes apart. We're talking serious, can't-talk-through-them contractions that had me lying on my side and drinking water. I had about five of them before I fell asleep on the bed, slept for about an hour, and then had some more that woke me up. After the worst one yet, I decided to pee and that really helped. They stopped after that and I have been fine since dinnertime.

However, holy bleeding batman. I didn't bleed this much when they put the cerclage in. I can't believe it's this bad just from pulling it out. They told me to expect it for today and that it was normal. But seriously, it's a lot.

So now we wait. I want at least 10 more days out of this pregnancy, so let's all hold hands and chant or pray or think good thoughts or whatever it is you do. I'll just be here ignoring the impending labor.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

Tomorrow is the big day -- cerclage removal!

I seriously can't believe how fast the last 21 weeks have gone. I feel like I was just going in to get sewn up and here we are taking it out.

With Jack, I had the cerclage removed at 35 weeks 6 days and I dilated a to 3 cm over the course of 19 days. There were tons of contractions but no real labor and we induced to end my misery at 38 weeks 4 days.

This time, I am really hoping to make it 18 days, to my scheduled 39-week induction on Jan. 22 (I will be 36 weeks 4 days tomorrow). But of course, my cervix and this baby are conspiring against me and plotting a coup.

I had my final ultrasound yesterday to check for growth. Girl Baby is measuring ahead in almost every category and is estimated to be about 6 lbs 6 ounces. She's shaping up to be long and skinny, like her brother.

Unfortunately, the baby is sitting so low in my pelvis that they could not see my cervix nor could they see the top half of her face or head. They could see from the nose down and that was it. We got some lovely shots of her pursing her little lips, but who knows what was going on with her eyes and forehead.

I do believe the ultrasound tech's quote was, "This baby could just fall right out when you cut that stitch!"

She wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. I can barely walk and I feel like I have a bowling bowl between my legs. But I am not one of those naive first-timers who think the stitch will come out and I will immediately go into labor. Of course the slim possibility is lurking somewhere behind my eyeballs, making me pack my hospital bag, wash all the clothes and instruct (read: demand in a loud voice, possibly with tears) Josh to assemble the bassinette and changing table.

I do believe that I will contract for many, many days without any regular pattern. I do believe I will experience some outstanding pelvic pain from this child being so low. I do believe I will be begging for an induction two weeks from now to just get this kid out already.

And I do believe I will be both stitch-free and baby-free tomorrow afternoon. Here's to lifting my son for the first time in 21 weeks and going back to changing diapers and getting up early. Wait, do I really want this stitch out?

Mr. Josh Goes to Pasedena

Yesterday I promised to tell the story of how my husband ended up going to the Rose Bowl when I was 36 weeks pregnant, also known as, "Why I Am The Greatest Wife Ever."

When the University of Illinois was selected to play in the Rose Bowl way back in November, a good friend of ours was visiting and he and Josh were talking about going to the game. Because I have a photographic recall of all calendar days during my pregnancy, I instantly laughed heartily because I knew I would be 36 weeks on New Year's Eve and there was no way in hell he was flying across the country when I could go into labor.

He told me that night, "But it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!" Nevermind the fact that really isn't true, it was a pretty weak argument. I thought about it for a day or two, however, and after realizing I would still have my cerclage, decided the chances of me going into labor would be really low.

I walked upstairs, grabbed him by the shoulders and said, "Merry Christmas, you can go. Have a good time." He was thrilled, until he heard the caveat that went with it. I told him he could either go to the Rose Bowl now or to London to see his friend in the spring. But it was one or the other.

As an aside, it's not like I "let" him do anything. But I find it unfair he would get two expensive trips, by himself, not to mention leaving me with the two kids after being gone all week at work if he went to London. So of course I had to raise a huge stink about it.

Suddenly, his "once-in-a-lifetime" experience wasn't so exciting anymore.

"I would rather go to the London," he said. I'm sorry, what? He's been to London like 10 times, most recently two months ago. Why on earth he needs to go again is beyond me. So we left it at him saying he was doing both and that I could come to London too! Except hi, I have to take my boobs with me to London and the new baby will be breastfeeding and leaving for a week is just not an option.

So he booked a flight for New Year's morning so he could spend New Year's Eve with me and is scheduled to fly home tomorrow night. He got his fun little trip (Funny, he also went on a fun little trip with friends when I was 35 weeks pregnant with Jack. I am sensing a trend.) and I stayed home. I like football. I like the Rose Bowl. But the airlines, they do not like the 36-week pregnant ladies so much.

Seriously, how many women in this stage of pregnancy would encourage this behavior? Not many. But this is why I am the Greatest Wife EVER.

2008 -- the year of the potty!

So I was all set to post about my husband traveling across the country to see his beloved Illini play in the Rose Bowl, WHEN I AM 36 WEEKS PREGNANT, but we had an outstanding and stupendous development here in Snarky World this afternoon.

Jack peed on the potty!

Last night we were giving him a bath and he started to pee. And then stop. And giggle. And then pee again. Again stop. And giggle. To the tune of about five times. I looked at Josh and said, "That little shit! He totally has bladder control and he's been holding out on us!"

So today when Grandma was changing his diaper, he said, "Pee?" So she ran him downstairs to the potty and he sat down and peed like a champ. I could hear her saying good job so I went in to investigate and there he was, peeing!

We made a HUUUUUUGE deal out of praising him and we let him pour it out into the toilet and flush (one of his favorite things, especially when Mommy is in the shower -- mmmm, chilly!) and he had the biggest the smile on his face. There were phone calls placed to the other Grandma and the Grandpas and his aunt and we even texted Daddy, who was appropriately excited all the way from Pasedena at halftime.

I of course know this means nothing in the grand scheme of potty training, but it was a huge first step. He's been sitting on the potty with no results for a good six months now, so I hope this will jump start a little progress. Of course this also ensures I will go into labor this week because he won't dare keep up the potty training with the baby in the house and all the good efforts will be for naught.

So tomorrow I shall regale you with the tale of my encouraging Josh to fly across the country when I am so close to popping this kid out. I will have plenty of time to post since I am laying around for the three days he is gone in the hopes of staving off any contractions and/or early labor.