(not just a) MommyBlog (dot com)

The last week has been a happy blur: a trip to New York (and a Broadway show!), wrapping presents, time with family, opening presents and eating.     Kenny especially enjoyed time in New York with his eight-year-old cousin, Ryan…

And Packing!   We leave sweet Dudley tomorrow in a capable house-sitter’s hands and jet off for our annual vacation.   Casey and I have spent the last two nights packing, re-packing and packing again.   It’s just not as easy to escape with a two-year-old in tow!

We bought Kenny his first tricycle for Christmas, and the look on his face when he saw it under the tree, with it’s big red bow, was fantastic.   We even took it over to my parents’ house for the day, so that he and his cousins could play with it, before he leaves it for two weeks.   I think his second favorite present were two t-shirts I bought him:  Cookie Monster and Big Bird… he put them on right away (one on top of the other).  

 We only had four presents for him this morning, but the grandparents, aunts and uncles and other assorted gift-givers ensured that he had a mountain of presents to open this Christmas week.   It was such fun to watch him examine each gift, and even more fun to watch him tear into a package, saying, “What is it??”   It makes Christmas such a new joy to see it through the eyes of my own child.

 On another note, one of my “goals” for this vacation, is to really work on my writing.   I was in such a great place for a while, writing everyday (either on this blog or writing articles for other things), yet its slipped so far into the depths of a things-to-do list that my groove is gone.   I miss it, and need to make time for it again.   So stay tuned… I don’t know how often I’ll have internet connections on this trip, but it will post when I can.

Merry Christmas to all, and my God bless this New Year!

In the midst of our uber-busy day today, I took Kenny in for a haircut, as his mop was becoming unruly.   That kid needs a cut every six weeks!

Since we are off to the beach next week for vacation, I asked the stylist to do “one level longer than a buzz.”   He looks ADORABLE!   I have no pictures to prove it, of course, but I will take some over the next few days.

Anyway, since I put him down tonight, it’s been a an hour and a half of him running around his room, dumping out toys and calling down to me to come up and give him another kiss.   This last time I went up, he revealed that he’d pooped in his diaper.   As I changed him, he rubbed his eyes, and sent his left hand up to it’s usual spot – he always twirls this little lock of hair above his left temple when he’s tired.   This time he sat up wide-eyed.   “Mama!   Where’s my hair?!?”   I reminded him of our trip to the barber shop today, and he said, “But where’d it go?   I want it!”

No wonder my little boy can’t fall asleep…

This week I took an impromptu jaunt  with Casey on a quick business trip, as there were folks there I wanted to see.   It was very last minute, and my parents came over to stay with Kenny.   He had a blast; my sister brought her youngest over, and I don’t think Kenny missed us at all!   We were gone only 24 hours including the plane flight.   I don’t know how Casey does it!   He makes trips like that at least every other week, sometimes twice in one week.   My pregnant fatigue was pushed to the limit.

As if that weren’t enough, tomorrow we are driving to Long Island to spend several days with Casey’s family, then we are home only a day and a half (for Christmas!), then we are flying away for two and a half weeks for our annual vacation.   I sit here, raggedly tired, and facing a house to get ready for the Dudley-sitter, a suitcase to pack (and another to contemplate), laundry to finish and a toddler who has no intentions of actually going to bed tonight.   And a husband who decided to escape for a boy’s night out.   Vacation can’t start soon enough.

In Vicky Iovine’s hysterical book The Girlfriends’ Guide to Pregnancy, there is a chapter titled, “Pregnancy is a total body experience.”   When I was pregnant with Kenny, I was horribly nauseous weeks 8 through 10 (with one last day at the end fo week 12), I had wicked indigestion in the third trimester, and I craves potato chips all the time.   Otherwise, it was smooth sailing.   This one is a little different.

I’ve been sick since week 6… in fact, weeks 6 through 9 I was sick from the time I woke up to the time I went to bed.   Week 10 was a reprieve, and now I’ve had bouts of awful nausea through week 11 and closing in on 12.   Dizzy spells, too.   As in, I’m in the middle of a conversation with someone, or in the middle of reading to Kenny, and I have this strange vertigo that almost makes me keel over.

The constant indigestion has been surprising this time, too… I can’t stop burping!   And I won’t mention what else I can’t stop doing.    At least  Kenny thinks it’s funny.

Then there’s the hair.   I can’t quite figure it out.   It didn’t change at all when I was pregnant with Kenny, but now I’ve got a mop I hardly recognize.   I went in to get touch-up highlights last weekend (my roots were desperate!), and not all of the toner took, so I’ve got about 40 shades of blond and brass (and one white streak that looks grey) mixed in with the natural mousy brown.   Not only that, but about half of my head is now quite wavy.   When I was pregnant in March, there was a one inch square patch behind my right ear that started to wave… it never went away, and it was almost a tender reminder of that lost baby.   But now there are lots of locks joining the wave.   If you drew a line across the back of my head from ear to ear, it’s wavy.   The rest is still stick straight.   That’s fun.   So much for a wash-n-go ‘do.

There’s  nothing wash-n-go about my face, either, which resembles me a’la age sixteen.   You can see my pores across the room.

Finally, my poor neglected abdominal muscles are getting their revenge.   I look easily four months pregnant.   And I’m only 12 weeks.   With Kenny, I rounded out before I “popped” so I simply wore pants a size larger.   This time, though, my hips and rear haven’t really changed, there’s just a small cantaloupe poking out from my shirt.   So my low-rider pants still fit perfectly, and I can’t wear a single one of my shirts or sweaters (all extra-smalls).   I bought a few new sweaters in a bigger size, but rather than hide, they accentuate my budding belly.   I guess I’d better get used to it, because it’s only getting bigger!

I’m actually getting  a kick out of it all.   Frankly, I don’t care if my hair turns green and my derriere turns to jelly, as long as I carry a healthy baby to term.   Vanity be gone!   I am so in love with this little bean that’s making me burp and retch and want to sleep all day.   I take it as a loving reminder from the little one that he or she is in there, doing just fine.

Last night Kenny pattered into our bedroom at about 1 AM.   He’s done this a few times before, but it’s not a regular thing, so I lifted him in, he snuggled into my side, and we fell back asleep.

At four in the morning, I noticed that the bed was distinctly wet.   Now in addition to Kenny and me, Casey and Dudley were also curled in the bed (it was a party).   I felt along Kenny’s flannel pjs and they were dry, so I rolled over and fell back asleep.   At 6, Kenny sat up and asked for some milk.   That’s when I noticed that the whole bed was really wet.   And smelling like pee.   But his pjs still felt dry.   Hm… Exactly who wet the bed here??   Casey had left at 4:30 to catch an early flight, so I crossed him off and glared at Dudley.

Ah, but it turns out Dudley was not to blame.   Last night Casey’s parents were in town on their way back up to New York from Florida for the holidays.   They graciously bathed him and dressed him for bed.   And apparently put a swim diaper on him instead of a regular diaper.   So all through the night, as Kenny pee’d (which he does a lot of in his sleep), the flannel somehow kept  the wet in  and the urine instead ran down his legs.   When I got up with him this morning and took off his pajama pants, his little legs were cold, wet and sticky.   My poor little guy!!   No wonder he left his own bed… which smelled horribly of little boy pee pee.   As did my bed – the sheets, comforter and all of our pajamas.   Kenny actually thought it was pretty funny, too, that I had to wash two of his stuffed animals that he had brought into our bed with him as well… Baa and Lamby were pretty stinky.   “They smell like pee pee!” said Kenny.   Lots of laundry insued.

Note to those dressing kids for bed… the diapers with the little fish on them are strictly for water sports.

… to don the girdle!   Ha ha… but really, I did have the not-so-fun opportunity to wear one this weekend.   I was determined not to buy a new dress for Casey’s annual company party, since I have so many.   So  I carefully planned a starch-free day  (to keep down the bloating) and squeezed my 11 week blossoming belly into a girdle of sorts so that I could zip up  the beautiful little black beaded dress I had been planning to wear before my delicate condition became apparent.

All was well until I had my first cocktail (cranberry juice) and a handful of wasabi peas at the pre-party.   My carefully packed in torso suddenly expanded in its confinement.   Then as I ate dinner at the party, it gradually ballooned like there was a little gremlin pumping me with air.   The dress held, but I couldn’t breathe.   I actually went to the ladies’ room a few times to unzip it, let my belly free for a few minutes, then strap it back in.

It’s not that I’m hugely pregnant already or anything, it’s just that I’ve expanded by several inches in the waist, and it seems to continue as the day progresses.   You know how these things go – first thing in the morning there is no belly at all, then my bedtime, even the elastic pajama pants are feeling a little snug.

Anyway, we had a great time, and I don’t think any more of our parties this season are very dressy, so I can relax and let the good times roll.   Or at least let my bump free!

On Friday nights we go to a friend’s house for a small group Bible Study.   The eight couples share a meal and then talk, and all the kids (13 of them) get shuttled downstairs with two brave babysitters for the two hours.   Kenny loves it.   He loves the little crafts they do, the stories they read, and the mass chaos during play time.   Most of all, he loves when someone brings a DVD.

Tonight was a movie night – The Jungle Book – ironically the only full length movie he’s ever seen!   And instead of crackers and cheese, the snack tonight was cookies.   He was in heaven.   That is, heaven until reality set in.

Ok – dark basement + past bedtime  +  animated movie + cookies….   What does that equal?   A kid who dissolves into the biggest tantrum I have ever seen upon arriving home.   It started when Casey carried him from the car to the house – we have a detached garage, and it’s a 75 foot walk, so in the icy conditions, Casey was just trying to help.   Kenny, however, must have really wanted to walk  because he  screamed like he was being tortured.   Once in the house, he stood wedged in a corner, tears streaming, and screamed without ceasing.   I finally managed to get a hold on him and took him upstairs, where the scenario repeated itself in his room.   For twenty minutes.   He finally fell into a snore, curled in the fetal position with his head on my knee in the bed, naked from the waist down and sweaty from the calisthenics.

If only I could have a glass of wine after all that… …

I am seriously considering naming this little baby-to-be after our awesome-gift-from-God OB.

This morning I had an episode of bleeding.   I called in to the office (a bustling group practice of 13 OBs) and reported the incident. I was told by the doctor on call, “No biggie – call us back if it gets worse.”   I said, “Um, no offense but is Dr. H there?   Given my history, I think he’d want to know what’s going on.”   Within five minutes I got a call back from his nurse telling me to come right in, that the good doctor was going to squeeze me in between meetings.

Poor Kenny got sardined in the car (but I let him listen to Boz the whole way, so he was jammin’) and this sweet crusty old man says, “Well, it’s probably nothing to worry about, but I know that’s not an answer you’re going to buy, so let’s have a look.”   I got to see sonogram #4 of the bopping baby, and he actually danced for us!   No joke – he wiggled and jiggled and even rubbed his eyes with both little hands while we watched!     “Look at that!   That’s just perfect.   What a picture.”   This man is not a frequent giver of real smiles, but I swear I got one as we shook hands and said goodbye until next time.

Is it weird to name your kid after your OB?

In other news, Kenny has become, for the first time in almost a year, a resister of the bedtime decree.   Though he has been in his big-boy bed since September, he has only now realized that he can get in and out of it whenever he wants.   Not only that, but he can get out, cross the room, open the door and saunter down the hall.   Yesterday he did that for an hour, until I put the old baby gate across his doorway.   At least then he was confined to his room.   But I could still here him changing CDs in his CD player, banging blocks and dumping the contents of his shelves.   Same thing at bedtime last night… though it was “lights out” at 7, it was well after 9:30 before he finally fell asleep.

So, my second question of the night is, how do you get your two-year-old to stay in BED??   He’s not a big one for rewards… the M&Ms after he uses the potty are his ultimate treat, but even so he goes in his diaper when he doesn’t feel like stopping his play to tinkle in the potty.   So a reward for staying in bed is not likely to hold much water.   Any other suggestions, or should I just keep the gate across the door and let him fall asleep on his own terms?

Casey   and I finally decided that now was as good a time as any to spill the news… I am pregnant!

Though the first four weeks of harboring this news (and sharing it with a few very close friends and family) was accompanied by deep breaths and clarifications (as in “I’ve already had four blood tests to check my hormone levels and they are off the charts!” and, “Yes, I’ve already had two ultrasounds and all is so far so good!”), I finally feel as confident about this little zygote at I did when I was pregnant with Kenny nearly  three years ago.

I am close to ten weeks, and I actually have had three ultrasounds already now… one at four weeks (to ensure that it was not ectopic), one at six weeks (to make sure there was a fetal pole and a heartbeat), and one this past Tuesday at nine weeks to make sure he was still kickin’ around in there, the right size for his age, and firmly implanted where he was supposed to be.  

May I just say that my OB is a gift from God?   He is a gruff old guy, so scientifically focused that his jokes are nearly impossible to detect, but one thing’s for sure – he doesn’t gloss things over, or look for the Pollyanna point of view, so this week when he declared me “in no way high risk” I know I can believe it for sure.   In fact, he told me to go for a jog…. it seems I could use a little exercise.   Or maybe less potato chips, which is what my nauseous tummy begs for all day…

So, I’m pregnant!

My due date is July 1st, but the OB has decreed a planned c-section will be sometime the week of June 23rd.   (Kenny was an un-planned one…. after 24 hours of labor with no progression)   I have been nauseous (no throwing up, but I think I’d feel better if I did) from waking to falling asleep again.   The nausea was actually a little better this week with my killer cold, but it came back with a vengeance today.   Food aversions have been bizarre – meat (except ground meat, when I usually won’t touch with a ten foot pole under non-prego circumstances)… I can’t even bring myself to buy meet at the grocery store, it grosses me out so much; vegetables (which I usually love and eat lots of), coffee (though I still have to have a few sips first thing, then I realize it’s icky, and dump it down the drain)  and candy bars.   Cravings?   Chips, oranges, potatoes, bread and baked goods.   Hm.   That would explain the four pounds I’ve already gained, I guess.

I can’t say that I have been completely anxiety-free.   I can’t say that there isn’t a little part of my brain that wants to “be prepared” in-case this one dosn’t make it.   But this one isdifferent.   With the baby we lost in March, I had no morning sickness, no real body changes (other than fatigue) and when we went in for our eight-week ultrasound, the baby only measured 6 weeks and 5 days.   They told me that my dates were off, but later conceded that the baby wasn’t growing properly.   With the baby we lost in July, there was a little nausea, but by seven weeks when the bleeding started, they discovered  two blighted ovums…. we never saw babies or heartbeats, just  the empty gestational sacks.   But this time,  those angels over at my  OB practice had been clocking me from the day I discovered a positive EPT test… checking that hormone levels are rising at the right rates and checking in  on the baby’s progress with the sonogram.

Now that  my OB has declared  this a “normal, healthy pregnancy” I will  go back to a normal, healthy check-up schedule, and won’t have another ultrasound until 20 weeks.   I finally feel like it’s  OK to jump for joy!

I know that it’s still technically “early” to be sharing the news, but given all that’s happened this year, I need to be able to write about it all or I’ll go crazy.

Stay tuned!