Monday, November 30, 2009

I have two other kids, too

You'd think I forgot about my two existing children with the way I have completely ignored them on this blog as of late. But oh boy, are they pissed about the lack of attention. They told me so. So I promised them I would update the world about how awesome they are.

(If you're here for a pregnancy update, still pregnant, still contracting on an irregular basis but nothing that seems to be causing cervical change and still complaining all over the damn place about being nine-plus months pregnant and how unfair it is I have to do things like get out of bed in the morning and go grocery shopping. Josh is not swayed by arguments about these injustices. In fact, he laughs at me and tries to mimic my whining. Whatever.)

Let's start with Miss Emily Jean. This weekend she was trying to get my attention while I was surfing the Internet saving orphans in India and when I didn't snap to attention in 2.5 seconds, she started screaming, "Mom-MY, mom-MY!" And just like that, I went from Mama to Mommy. Of course that got my attention and resulted in tons of positive reinforcement like smiles and clapping on my part, so now she just screams "MOM-MYYYYYY" when she wants something. That's so many kinds of awesome I can't even describe it.

Emmie also caught an awesome cold this weekend, so she's snotting all over the place and leaving a trail of mucus in her wake. When she's not running away from me and my weapon of mass destruction (Kleenex), she's waking up in the middle of the night because she can't breathe. I really hope this keeps up because if there's one thing I don't need when I'm nine-plus months pregnant, it's a full night's sleep.

She also enjoyed her Thanksgiving. She really enjoyed her second helping of air and her third serving of whole milk. The turkey, stuffing, potatoes and broccoli she spit out and threw on the ground? Don't even mention it. No big deal.

Jackson, however, was a pure delight at the holiday table. Seriously. He sat in a regular chair (no booster) and ate politely, asked for more of everything, participated in conversation and cleaned up after himself. I have never seen a better-behaved almost-4-year-old. I complimented him numerous times and told him what a big boy he was. It was so enjoyable. Too bad his sister screamed "Oooouuuuuutttttttt" for 20 minutes at the top of her lungs.

He also attended his first circus this weekend with Josh and another friend and her dad, and a good time was had by all. He came home with a toy four-wheeler and stories about elephants and tigers and a magician. Josh came home with tales of $10 lemonades. Needless to say, Jack drank a beverage from home.

Jack returned to school today, fresh off his four-day break, excited to see his friends and teachers. When he scrambled into the car and started telling me about his day, he recounted what must have been a highlight, considering it made it into the first five minutes of the recap.

"Mommy, I went poop on the potty at school today," he said.

"Wow, that's... great? Did anyone help you?" I asked tentatively.

"No. I wiped myself," he said. "I did a good job."

"Well that's good," I said.

"I checked with my finger after. It was all clean."

Well then. Awesome. I asked if he washed his hands and he told me he used hand sanitizer. Sweet lord, I really hope he was just forgetting the part about using soap and water.

In other holiday news, Mr. Helpful Jack also assisted in the assembly and decoration of the Christmas tree this weekend. He found all the color-coded pieces and handed them to me in the correct order, which was all kinds of awesome because Mommy can't bend over and this made it so much easier. He helped Josh with the lights, but was disappointed when I told him we couldn't put ornaments on because I have a no-ornament policy with an almost 2-year-old in the house. But he was excited to see his handiwork completed when the tree was lit up in the darkened living room.

All in all, it was an enlightening weekend.

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Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Competent beyond belief

My incompetent cervix has finally decided to get its damn act together and get in line. In what can only be described as karma gone wrong, it has suddenly decided to cowboy up and do its job.

I have not dilated any further after last Friday's cerclage removal and incredulously, the baby's head appears to have possibly moved up instead of down. My OB officially listed me at 1 cm dilated, 30 percent effaced and -3 station. Which means a turkey baby is a very slim possibility.

Not that this disappoints me in any way, because I am really not ready to pop this kid out this week, but I am sure all you people who guessed this weekend are cursing my cervix and its sudden competency.

I was also somewhat chagrined to find out all those painful contractions on Monday made not one iota of difference. It was all for nothing. Which makes me look forward to more days like that in the coming two weeks.

Apparently WeeBey is content and happy in there and has commanded the cervix to stay the course. We all know my water could break in the next minute and render all of this a moot point, but for now, no sign of impending labor.

I hope you and yours have a joyous Thanksgiving filled with turkey, gobs of butter, apple pie and football. I plan to enjoy seconds and thirds of everything -- I mean how often do you have official license to pig out in such a manner?

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Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Something that passes for a real post

Let's recap: yesterday, near-constant contractions for all of my waking hours. They were about eight minutes apart and painful right before dinner, but once I stood up, made dinner and ate, they almost stopped. Clearly, fake contractions.

Today, I thought I was in for round 2, seeing as I was gripping the counter to steady myself while making breakfast for the kids. But, magically, the rest of the day was almost bearable. I still had contractions, but nothing painful and nothing remotely regular. Apparently my uterus decided to screw with me.

Let me tell you how EXCITED the prospect of enduring this for two more weeks makes me. I absolutely can't wait for more of this. Why yes, I am complaining. Thanks for not judging. While I am trying to enjoy this pregnancy, I also don't get jazzed about the idea of non-stop contracting for 14 days.

I just had one as I typed that last paragraph. Perhaps it was psychosomatic? Or I just have a lot of them and it was coincidental timing? Who knows.

That was all a roundabout way of saying I don't really have anything to say, but I knew if I didn't post something, people would be all, "ZOMG, r u in labor?"

More exciting updates coming tomorrow. I have an OB appointment in the afternoon so perhaps we'll find out all these contractions have caused more dilation. I know you're all on pins and needles.


Monday, November 23, 2009

Oh mucus plug, oh mucus plug

For your enjoyment, sung to the tune of "Oh Tannenbaum," I present to you: my ode to the mucus plug. Yes, I really composed a song about it. (I totally forgot about the mucus plug until this weekend and then I was dying laughing in the bathroom because it's just so hilarious to see one. And just like with Jack and Emmie, it made its appearance within a day of my cerclage removal. I am nothing if not consistent.)

"O Mucus Plug! O Mucus Plug!
Thy makeup is much-changing;
O Mucus Plug! O Mucus Plug!
Thy makeup is much-changing;
Not only seen when labor's near,
But also when 'tis there nor here.
O Mucus Plug! O Mucus Plug!
Thy makeup is much-changing!

O Mucus Plug! O Mucus Plug!
Much hope thou can'st give me;
O Mucus Plug! O Mucus Plug!
Much hope thou can'st give me;
How often has the sight of thee
Afforded me the greatest glee!
O Mucus Plug! O Mucus Plug!
Much hope thou can'st give me.

O Mucus Plug! O Mucus Plug!
Thy is so gross and slimey!
O Mucus Plug! O Mucus Plug!
Thy is so gross and slimey!
Staring at you is just so fun
But from the bathroom I will run
O Mucus Plug! O Mucus Plug!
Thy is so gross and slimey!

O Mucus Plug! O Mucus Plug!
How much I really miss you!
O Mucus Plug! O Mucus Plug!
How much I really miss you!
You came and went without a thought,
A few contractions you have brought.
O Mucus Plug! O Mucus Plug!
How much I really miss you!"


Friday, November 20, 2009

Pain and suffering

As you might imagine, having someone dig around in your cervix with a large pair of tweezers for a piece of surgical wire without the use of anesthesia is really not a fun way to spend your typical afternoon.

Yet, it's what I found myself doing shortly after lunch today. And as you might imagine, it did NOT feel like sunshine and unicorns. In fact, it felt nothing like that at all.

For both of my previous cerclage removals, I remember there being a lot of pain. With Jack, I was just so excited to be getting off bedrest after four months that I gritted my teeth and got through it. With Emmie, I just dug my fingernails into the palm of my hand and counted the holes in the ceiling tile above me. With this third one, I actually thought I might die.

All right, perhaps a slight exaggeration, but this time, the stitch did not want to come out. My OB was prepared for this possibility, knowing that it took a great deal of effort with the last cerclage, but I don't think either of us was expecting it to be as bad as it was.

There were three separate minutes-long attacks on the damn thing, the last of which culminated in my ass leaving the table at the exact moment she was finally able to cut it. It was embedded so far in that she just could not get a good grip on it without several tries.

My doctor was sweating, I was sweating and Josh was trying not to look while also trying to appear sympathetic to my plight. I was so busy being in pain I didn't even care that he was on the damn computer the whole time. And no, he wasn't live-blogging my removal either. I think he might have been making his Christmas list.

After much apologizing on my OB's part and much deep breathing and hand clenching on my part, she pronounced it the most difficult cerclage removal she had ever done. But it was over and I couldn't have been more pleased.

My cervix, however, was very unhappy and showed its displeasure by bleeding profusely. Not to be left out of the fun, my uterus decided to get in on the act by contracting. Repeatedly. With great intensity.

My doctor checked my cervix, which was SO AWESOME right after the ridiculousness that had just ensued, and she said I was a loose 1 cm. They wanted to monitor my contractions and see if they caused any more dilation, and if not, then I would be free to go home.

Lucky me, I laid on the gurney for two hours and read "Superfreakonomics" and my contractions eventually got less painful and less frequent. There was no change to my dilation, so off I went.

I am so glad this is over and will never, ever have to happen again. As my OB was digging in the delicate tissue of my cervix, I announced I would never go through natural childbirth. Ever. No way. Nope. Can't imagine worse pain than what I just experienced, and I know natural childbirth would be way more painful, so I will just say, "No, thank you."

And now, I can pick up my children and swim and run around the block and generally act like a normal pregnant woman. Except for the fact I am 36 weeks pregnant and don't really want to do anything of those things, well, maybe pick up my kids because they've missed that the last 22 weeks.

Instead, I am hanging out and waiting to go into labor. Hopefully in about two weeks.

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Thursday, November 19, 2009

Snarky contest!

After 22 long weeks of harboring a foreign object in my body, not picking my kids up and generally having some sort of low-level worries in the back of my mind at all times, my cerclage will be removed tomorrow.

On the other hand, that also means I now have no excuse for not vacuuming, scrubbing the floors or carrying groceries. Shhh, don't tell Josh. I am going to try to keep up the charade for the next six months. I mean you totally can't scrub floors until you're at least six months postpartum, right?

So. In honor of the possible birth tomorrow, I announce the "Guess The Snarky Birth" contest. You have from now until tomorrow (Nov. 20) at 1 p.m. CT to make your guesses. The timestamp on your comment serves as proof of you getting in before the deadline. You guess the birth date, followed by sex and weight. Winner takes home $50 worth of Snarky Babies merchandise (designs of your choice)! Don't have kids? We have adult shirts, too. Or pet designs. Something for everyone!

To be clear, you need to first guess the correct date of the birth and any ties will be decided with a correct guess of the sex of WeeBey; if there's still a tie, winner decided by the guess of the weight. You have to come closest without going over in both the date and weight categories.

Some valuable information I will share with you all:
* My cerclage removal is tomorrow at 36 weeks 3 days; actual due date is Dec. 15.
* With Jack, I went 17 days after removal.
* With Emmie I went 12 days after removal.
* If I do not go into labor on my own, I will likely be induced Dec. 7.
* Jack weighed 6lbs 11oz at 38 weeks 4 days.
* Emmie weighed 6lbs 8oz at 38 weeks 2 days.
* My belly measured 35 weeks at yesterday's appointment.
* The head is so low, my OB can feel it when she checks my cervix.
* My OB will be out of the country from Nov. 28-Dec. 4 (Hello, karma).

On your marks, get set, guess!

(No purchase necessary to enter, but it would be nice. Snarky Family and employees of SnarkyBabies are allowed to enter, but I might not actually give them the prize if they win. Contest might only be valid in states that allow marrying your 14-year-old cousin, but if you're cool, I will give you the prize anyway. If you're looking for legal jargon, you're out of luck. I have an attorney friend who will save me from any litigation anyway, so don't worry. Winner's blog (if he/she has one) will get a shout-out on as part of the prize. If you don't like me, and don't like my blog, you can still guess. But why would you want to?)

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Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Wax on, wax off

At today's weekly OB appointment, my doctor did a cervical exam and pronounced there was no change from last week. Meaning my slothful behavior paid off and laying on the couch for a week not only resulted in me losing a pound this week (go me at 36 weeks!), but also in thwarting my cervix from dilating.

That means all systems are go for the big cerclage removal this Friday. I couldn't be more excited to have someone insert a speculum, dig around in the tissue of my cervix with a pair of tweezers and snip a 5 mm piece of wire with a very sharp pair of scissors. Oh, and all without the aid of painkillers or nerve blocks. I am SO looking forward to it!

In addition to the cervix feel-up I got this morning, I was able to add on the awesome fun of a bikini wax this afternoon. Did I mention this was a bikini wax when I am 36 weeks pregnant?

Now, you might think to yourself, "Why in the hell would she subject herself to that kind of nonsense when no one is even going to notice?" The answer would be because when you're 36 weeks pregnant, you can't see your own feet, much less your groin. I have no idea what is going on down there, so I needed to entrust the care of it to a professional.

My waxer is someone I have seen before, so it's not like we're strangers, but there's just something about exposing your entire bottom half, a bottom half that is swollen beyond the point of believability, to another person. Christ, not even Josh has seen me that naked in the last few weeks. But then again, I didn't pay him $50, so really, he was under no obligation to do so. The waxing lady was.

As I assumed the position on the chair, I assured her we didn't need to get crazy.

"We're not going on a beach honeymoon here, I'm pushing a kid out, so no need to go all Brazilian on my ass," I assure her. "Let's just make it presentable so we don't frighten anyone in the delivery room."

The area in question is, how shall we say, a little more sensitive in the last months of pregnancy. Meaning something that could be routine in non-pregnant times takes on a heightened sense of agony when with child. Agony meaning one's ass could theoretically leap several inches off the table when the wax is unceremoniously ripped from one's sensitive, flower-like skin.

And discussing your Thanksgiving dinner plans during this procedure will not take your mind off of what is actually happening. In fact, you might develop some strange sort of PTSD when it comes to gravy. Let's hope that's not the case.

If anyone wants to hit the beach, I am so in. Just let me know and I can dig my ever-so-fetching maternity swimsuit out of my drawer. The maternity swimsuit I bought when I was pregnant with Jack. The maternity swimsuit I have never worn.

I really hope the residents, med students, doctors, nurses and other 57 people who always attend a delivery appreciate my efforts.

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Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Montessori? Yes, please!

I can't say enough great things about Jack's school and the Montessori curriculum they have there. He's flourished and matured, becoming so much more helpful and curious since school started in September.

I think for kids like Jack, who like to explore and figure things out and do activities on their own terms in their own time frames, it's an ideal program. For him, it's been a great fit. He adores both his teachers, loves art and gym class and is constantly asking us what the Spanish word is for things he encounters. The class he loves the most however? Drama. How ridiculously cute is THAT?

He's friends with both girls and boys, 5-year-olds as well as the 3- and 4-year-olds, and is in the diverse urban school setting we always imagined when we said we were raising our kids in the city.

In short, it's the perfect school. Made even more perfect by the fact it's a neighborhood school. And it's free. How ya like them apples? Free Montessori. I swear to God, it's better than winning the lottery. We'll send three kids there and pay nothing (well, except out insanely high property taxes, but still). The private Montessori schools in our area expect parents to cough up $15,000 per year. So we'd be looking at $45,000 PER YEAR just to educate our kids.

Tonight, Jack fed me this little tidbit he learned in school today.

"Mommy, Vincent Van Gogh is an artist and he paints flowers," he said proudly.

My 3.5-year-old just schooled me in some rudimentary art history. That's worth every penny we pay in taxes and then some. Seriously? I still can't believe our luck.

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Monday, November 16, 2009

The finish line's in sight

At last week's OB appointment, I discovered that I am about 1 cm dilated and WeeBey's head is right there, ready to bust out. I could have told you that, based on the events of the previous few days, which included massive amounts of pressure and more than a few rounds of contractions.

But to actually hear that I was about 1 cm -- with my cerclage in place -- was more than a little scary. Sure, women who are having their third babies walk around dilated much earlier than first-timers, but when you have a stitch holding you closed, you don't really want to hear that your cervix is still trying valiantly to do the old open sesame.

Then we discussed the cerclage removal, scheduled for this coming Friday. I will be 36 weeks 3 days pregnant at that point and while babies born at this point are fine, especially those who have improved their batting average by 100 points thanks to steroid shots, I really don't want a 36-weeker. Studies show breastfeeding is harder at 36 weeks and while that might be the least of my worries, to me, it's a huge factor. Breastfeeding is my thing. I do it well. And to have problems with feeding the baby with two other kids to focus on, well, it's not something I want to deal with.

So I asked if we might be able to delay the removal to the next week, at the 37-week mark. Nope. Not an option. My OB is concerned these contractions and pressure will only continue and the danger of tearing through the stitch while in labor would be greater. And if there's one thing you probably don't want to experience, it's your cervix being shredded like a topping for tacos.

She seems to think I might dilate further immediately upon removing the stitch. In the past, I have always had my cerclage removed in the labor and delivery triage department and once it's out, they monitor me for an hour and send me home. (I say this like I am Michelle Duggar and have birthed 18 kids. I should punch myself.) Of course I dilate somewhat -- we're messing with my cervix at 36 weeks. You start doing that and you're going to cause contractions and dilation. But my OB said if I dilate to 2-3 cm, then they'll keep me for a few hours, just in case. I could tell by the look on her face that she seems to think that will be the case. I refuse to believe that and am plugging my ears with my fingers saying, "Lalalalala I can't heeeaaarrrrrrr yoooouuuuuuuuuu." Mature.

My OB also said if I am dilated any further at my regular appointment this Wednesday, she won't even wait until Friday to take the stitch out, it will come out right then and there. To ensure that doesn't happen, mostly because Josh will be out of town on business until Wednesday night, I have been lying around on the couch doing as little as possible. When Josh is home, he handles the kid duty and I lie around timing contractions and taking Procardia if they get too close together. Emmie is with Grandma for the next two days since Josh is out of town, so I am taking it easy. That means I am lying on the couch reading and screwing around online. It's hard work, people, hard work.

The prevailing theory seems to be -- BIG SHOCKER -- I am not going to make it to my Dec. 15 due date. That's a giant duh, considering this is my third baby and I have never made it to my due date before. I am of the mind I will make it to December. Scratch that, I am determined to make it to December by sheer force of will. If I have to lie around with my legs tied closed, I will do it. Josh's work project ends Nov. 30 and I don't want him working when the new baby arrives. We're having a houseful of people for Thanksgiving, and I would like to enjoy my turkey and pie without having to catch any stray amniotic fluid in the gravy boat. And how cool would it be to make it to my induction date of Dec. 7? We could totally name the baby Pearl!

In preparation for Baby Watch 2009 to begin this Friday, I have a million things to attend to this week, including a girls night dinner, book club, a pre-baby bikini wax, parent-teacher conferences and the organization of the last year of family photos stored online. These are critical to my sanity and well-being and the baby can not come until they are complete. I think we're safe, but you never know with these crazy kids.

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Thursday, November 12, 2009

Oh for the love of...

Snarky Daddy is spewing some nonsense over at his blog.

I refuse to acknowledge the content of his post, or any of his posts for that matter, based on the fact that he is most certainly NOT an Ultrasound Technician. I don't care what his degree from Dr. Google may say.

Coming tomorrow: Why my OB thinks I am going into labor next Friday. Alternate title: Why I am freaking the hell out.


Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Rooms of their own

When we started this little remodeling project six weeks ago, we began with a three-season sun porch with a ridiculously slanted floor and no insulation accessed through a sliding patio door in Jack's bedroom and a glass door leading out to the deck.

I would normally impress you with a photo in this spot, but I am supremely stupid and didn't take one. In my defense, I didn't take one because that room was such a pit, full of toys and tools and lawn chairs and holiday decorations, that I wouldn't have wanted anyone to see it anyway.

But I did manage to get some shots of the actual demo and reconstruction.

Behold, the demo. One morning the workers showed up and when I went outside the back door a few hours later, I could see the roof. Bye bye slanty floor.

Hope no one steps out into the old room by accident.

Then a few days later, it was all spanking brand-new 2x4s filled with foam insulation. I thought it looked like marshmallow cream. I did not eat it.

I resisted poking it like the Pilsbury Dough Boy.

And then we sat idle for two weeks while we waited for the stupid HVAC guy to show up. Finally, he did and we spent a few days painting and the carpet came like a day later and voila -- it was done!

View from the new doorway.

View of the new doorway.

And ta-da -- a new room for Miss Emmie! She loves it and never blinked an eye when we moved her. One day she was in her old room, the next she found all of her stuff in a new place. Now we can get her to do anything by asking, "Do you want to go play in your new room?"

I want to sleep in here, the colors are so soothing.

We switched Jack into Emmie's old room because it ended up making the most sense. It doesn't share a doorway with any other room and it's about as far away as we can split him and Emmie. Since we moved him further away from her, she's started sleeping later in the mornings. Coincidence? I think not.

He also loves his new (well, really old, because it was his room up until Emmie came along) room and was super excited when we did the big reveal. His new room came with the addition of a new dresser, which also made things more exciting because he has new places for all his clothes. New, new, new!

Small, but cozy.

And finally, we have WeeBey's room. The new baby gets the big room by default -- we figured it wouldn't sleep in there for at least two months anyway, and once it did sleep in it's own room, we didn't want to drag a crying baby back and forth through a sleeping sibling's room in the wee hours of the night. The room is blue, and for now, it's staying blue. Not because we think it's a boy, but because we are too lazy to repaint it. So for now, blue room. The bedding I picked out doesn't look horrid in that setting and really, we can just tell everyone we are battling the gender stereotypes early on.

Organic! And neutral!

I can't believe the littlest kid is getting the biggest room. Thankfully they're too little to know about fairness yet.


Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Oh, the places you will go (in yoga pants)

Remember when I said I can't in good conscience wear yoga pants in public when I am pregnant? Because I am an uppity snob who insists on wearing designer maternity jeans, despite the fact they cut into my stomach and cause contractions when I am in any position except that of standing? And I am too afraid of people thinking I am a big slob?

Oh, how we eat our words at the 35-week mark.

I have now worn yoga pants to school dropoff, school pickup, the library, Costco, the pharmacy, Old Navy, the park, Ikea and Home Depot, among countless other locations in the Chicagoland area.

"Will you succeed? Yes, you will indeed." It's like Dr. Seuss wrote that expressly for pregnant women. How did he know?????

I am sure Josh finds this so HOTT. I mean come on, what's not to love -- slouchy, ill-fitting pants that make my ass look saggy? That screams MILF right there, if you think MILF stands for Mom I'd Like to Forget.

So, without further ado, I present me in all my 35-week pregnant glory. And yes, I am wearing yoga pants. In fact, I wore them all day long. And I have three pair, so guess what, I can wear a similar outfit three more times this week before I need to do laundry. (Who am I kidding? I probably won't even do laundry.)


Monday, November 9, 2009

The one where I am tired

First, look at all of you with your comments! I have some serious reading and commenting to commence. Which I will do some day this week when I am not so exhausted.

You might think I would be well-rested, what with only having one child around for the last week, but you would be wrong. The child I did have around was sick and clung to me like a life raft for four days. Unless he was sleeping in his own bed, Jack never. stopped. touching. me.

He laid next to me on the couch for eight hours each day watching kids TV and either had his head on my lap or was fidgeting his feet in some bizarre sort of kitten-pawing action on my thigh. I am pretty sure I have a bruise from his nonstop contact. And every time I would nicely ask him to please stop it for the love of God, he would tell me he didn't feeeeeel goooooood and give me a pitiful look. Do you know how hard it is to physically remove the foot of your ailing offspring?

And let's all remember that the sick child I had at home is the one who wakes up at 5:30 a.m. every day. So it's not like I was sleeping in and resting. Oh no, he still woke up early every damn day, so that pretty much sucked. When you're sick, you're supposed to sleep in. Someone needs to tutor him in the ways of the sick day.

And it's impossible for me to get any stretch of sleep longer than an hour these days, what with the shifting and the sighing and the snoring. No, not on my part, on Josh's. I even bought him some Breathe-Right strips to see if it would help and I think I can tell you, he is the only person on earth for whom Breathe-Right strips actually enabled him to snore more. It was like it opened his sinuses fully, thus allowing him to get even more power behind his breathing.

Oh yeah, and I have to pee like twice a night and I can't get comfortable and I keep waking up on my back, which makes me short of breath, so I have to turn over and that's like trying to roll a tractor-trailer back upright after it's spilled crates of live chickens all over the Interstate.

Hopefully I can get some sort of decent rest tonight and come back full recharged tomorrow, ready to show you pictures of the remodeling and the new bedroom configurations and share how I almost flooded the house with my crazy nesting.

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Friday, November 6, 2009

Annual de-lurking day is here!

I am hearby declaring this De-lurking Day on this blog. Have you been reading forever? Are you relatively new? Did you stumble here from a search about H1N1 and your pregnancy? Did you think it was a p*rn site with pictures of moms?

No matter how you got here -- now's your time to pimp yourself out! Please leave a comment, even if you want to tell me how bored you are by me, and include a URL to your blog if you have one.

I haven't updated my blogroll in that thar sidebar over yonder in about two years, seeing as I use my Google reader for my blog-perusing needs. I am also supremely lazy and read comments in my email, which doesn't include URLs from commenters, so this will be an awesome way to update both my own feeds and hopefully to introduce all of you faithful readers to some outstanding writers. In return, I promise to come and comment on every commenter's blog in the next week to spread all that love around.

Now, won't you share with all of us?


Thursday, November 5, 2009

Next-day delivery of attitude

Yesterday, the FedEx guy must have been in super-stealth mode because I was sitting on the couch all day with Swine Flu boy and never heard him at the gate. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, we don't have a doorbell outside our gate, but I usually hear and see people rattling the handle when I am in the living room. But whatever, he came and went.

He left the little "sorry we missed" you notice that said he would be back today. Josh reminded me to leave the gate open this morning, thus making his wife and eldest child susceptible to a break-in, but nevermind that, the delivery of his friend's laptop was of utmost importance.

FedEx man finally arrived at 1:15 p.m. I only knew he arrived because he was standing on the porch when I happened to glance outside. Again with the stealth moves. I waited a minute for him to ring the doorbell, and kept waiting because he didn't.

Curious, I opened the door and he looked up and spat out, "It's about time. You're finally here."

I'm sorry, did we have a date? Was there some FedEx etiquette I breached by not being available yesterday?

I looked at him with a blank stare and he shoved the package at me. I fumbled it a little and said, "Umm. Well. Sorry. Busy schedule, you know."

He just grunted and grabbed the electronic signature pad and thrust it into my general direction. After I signed, he grabbed it out of my hand and bounded down the stairs without so much as a wave.

I am not sure how I offended him, but clearly, he hates me. My Christmas shopping is really going to suffer these next few weeks because I am now afraid to order anything that won't arrive UPS or USPS, lest I piss him off even more. Kids, I hope you didn't really want anything that absolutely, positively needs to be here on time because I will be hiding in the closet the next time I hear the truck pull up.


Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Trick or germs

We take a break from our regularly scheduled swine flu update to bring you this special Halloween Report. But before we get to that, wanted to update everyone that Jack has joined me in the world of pork and came down with the H1N1 early this morning. Fever of 101, hacking cough and complaints that his chest and throat hurt bought him a stay-home-from-school pass that came with his very own day o' TV. I watched eight hours of kids' TV today. Eight hours that kept him quiet on the couch and me happy next to him with my laptop.

He was holding steady at 102 degrees tonight before bed, so we're looking at another day home tomorrow followed by a scheduled day off of school on Friday, making this a five-day weekend. Whoo-hoo?

Anyway, back to our special report.

Trick or Treat, or shall I say Trick or Germs, was awesome for both kids this year. Jack was an old pro and Emmie picked it up very quickly. After the second house, she realized people would give her shiny wrapped objects if she said the magic words, so she started saying, "tick teet" without being prompted and "tank you" about 50 percent of the time. Jack took charge, boldly going up to the houses and would have probably done the whole street by himself if we let him.

It was freezing, but everyone had a great time. Daddy was offered beer at one house and Mommy pilfered a full-size Twix from Emmie's bag. All in all, a solid outing once again.

Happy Halloween!

We met up with some friends from the neighborhood. Notice Emmie has her eye on their candy.

No, I don't WANT a sucker. I want M 'n Ms.

My parents never let me have candy. Just wait til they find out I am planning to eat all of it.

Jesus Mommy, you are so embarrassing making me hold your hand. Can't you just stand over there so I can pretend I don't know you?

People, I am a DRAGON. Not a dinosaur. Have you ever seen a dinosaur with wings? Stop being stupid.

Nooooo, not the Three Musketeers, Emmie! Don't you know you always go straight for the Milky Ways?

OMG, who stuffed a pumpkin under that woman's shirt? Oh wait. That's actually Mommy's belly. Nevermind.

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Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Mmmm, bacon

After yesterday's exciting events (see: treatment for swine flu) I took the Tamiflu my OB prescribed, ate some chicken soup and went to bed where I slept peacefully for 11 hours.

I woke up not feeling like I was hit by a truck, which was a lovely change of pace, and spent the day convalescing in bed. It was kind of like being home sick from school -- I hung out watching daytime television, eating soup and relaxing -- except I had the Internet to amuse me. It's a good thing Twitter and Facebook didn't exist when I was home sick in fourth grade because I would have claimed mono and tried to stay home for the entire school year.

Surprisingly, the Tamiflu really helped. I don't feel like I am going to die at any moment and the aches and fever are a thing of the past. Now the cough? That stuck around. And the stuffy nose is still going like the Energizer bunny. But for the most part, I feel human.

Emmie was dispatched to Grandma's house until I am no longer oinking and I have been trying to keep my distance from Jack as much as possible. He's been OK about it, and even knows I am not supposed to be touching anything or anyone. I picked up a bowl in the kitchen tonight and he looked alarmed. "Mommy, does that have germs on it now?" he asked with concern. Poor kid, I am going to make him a germaphobe in no time.

Josh has picked up the slack and thankfully he can work from home some of the time, so he's been able to pitch in when needed. I pulled myself together enough to pick Jack up from school, but cautioned everyone to stay 15 feet away from me as I shrouded myself in a cloud of sanitizer.

In closing, let me give this public service announcement: if you are pregnant, get the H1N1 vaccine. Trust me, you don't want to feel like this when you are pregnant. If you have kids, get them the H1N1 vaccine. Trust me, you definitely don't want your kids to feel like this. Especially not kids who can't even tell you how miserable they feel because they can't talk. I know people come down on both sides and there are strong arguments for vaccinating and not vaccinating, but as someone who has experienced it, it's not fun and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Well, not knowingly wish it. Unfortunately for all the shoppers at Whole Foods and Trader Joe's yesterday, as well as my friend I had breakfast with and all the people around us, I unknowingly infected you with my pestilence. Although that's probably how I picked it up in the first place, so what goes around, comes around, I guess.

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Monday, November 2, 2009

On second thought...

Right after I published that last post, I am pretty sure I was hit by a truck. Aches, chills, fever -- you know, the three symptoms I didn't have that convinced me I didn't have H1N1.

The nurse at my OB's office says based on symptoms and because I am pregnant, they are prescribing Tamiflu and treating me for swine flu.

Oink, oink.

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Shutting my yap

Two weeks ago, I was spouting off to Josh about how the extra Vitamin D that I have been taking must be working its magic on my immune system because the kids were sick three times in the last six weeks and I, chief nose-wiper and coughed-upon caretaker, didn't get even a sniffle.

And then the weekend arrived and I ate my words and then some. It started with a little cough Friday night, nothing major. By Saturday morning, I was hacking up and lung. Sunday, I started with the congested nose.

This morning I woke up at 4:15 a.m. with a headache so severe, my back molars hurt. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't stop coughing and I was convinced I was going to die. Perhaps a bit melodramatic (who, me?) but definitely a valid thought considering the time of day and the fact I am nine months pregnant and can't take anything stronger than Tylenol.

I tossed and turned and might have woken Josh up just to tell him how bad I was feeling. He mumbled something about that being too bad from his side of the bed and continued on with his snot-free, phlegm-free rest. When Jack woke up at 4:30 (why yes, we DO love daylight savings time changes around here, thanks for asking) I figured I might as well be the one who helped him to the bathroom seeing as I was already up.

Upon returning to bed, I started mentally tallying all my symptoms with that of the H1N1. Considering I have only had the vaccine in my system for 10 days, I probably don't have the proper levels of immunity built up. But I didn't feel like I had been run over by a truck, I just felt as if I had a bad cold. Perhaps a touch of bronchitis. Or pneumonia. Or the plague. But not the flu.

So I soldiered on with my day, getting up and showered and getting Jack ready for school. I dropped him off and had breakfast with a friend before hitting two grocery stores. Supermom for the win!

This in no way precludes me from claiming illness when Josh gets home from work, however, and making him do the dinner/bath/bedtime routine while I hide out in our bedroom in a haze of vaporizer mist and the smell of Vicks rub emanating from my person.

I sacrificed my naptime so I could get some work done, and now I am thinking that was a horrid idea. I'm sure Jack will totally be up for a game of "Let's rest our eyes and be quiet on the couch" when he gets home from school. That's one of his favorites. Right after "Beat on your sister" and "Throw your trains across the room when they derail off the tracks."

If I'm still alive tomorrow, I will regale you with photos and pictures from Trick or Treat. If I'm dead, Josh will take over my blog and alert the proper authorities. If that is the case, I can only hope he lives up to my blogging standards and brings the funny.

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