Wow.

Uhm. Usually I refrain from using that term with highly accomplished, intelligent, admirable women. But apparently, that's just me.

(and technically, "baby mama" doesn't even apply in this case.)

Fox News can suck it.

back to life

After almost three weeks of the requisite "hiding out" (so to speak), we're finally getting out of the house a bit more. LPT 2.0 will be three weeks on Wednesday (btw: Lucas Alexander: born on 30 April at 3:23 p.m.; 7 lbs. 14 oz.; 20" long. Male. Full head of black hair. Pleasant disposition. See below.) (And the scratch on his face is self-inflicted.

Thundercats are go*

Well friends, today is the day. Please note the ungodly hour of this post. The rule around here is that is that if LPT gets up before 7, we have a problem. But we had to call the hospital at 5 this morning to make sure there wasn't a rush on the delivery beds (thank goodness for the lack of a full moon, eh?) But I have to say that all this complaining about the hour is kind of moot - D and I didn't really sleep that well (who could?) and we were both up a bit before 5. I need coffee.
My next post should be from the point of view of a mother of two. Maybe I should spike that coffee.
P.S. Dan in Real Life is an excellent movie and everyone should see it with kleenex nearby.
*Since D just gave me a strange look, the title of this post is in reference to Juno.

D-Day is on the Horizon, etc.

Not to get too graphic here, but I am so happy you may just have to put up with a bit of detail. MY CERVIX IS DILATED. Which means that I will be induced on the 30th of April, officially. Which means there is an end in sight. A light at the end of the tunnel. Ah, certainty. It's a wonderful thing.

On a different note, I've been on bed rest for the past few weeks, and have thus had the privilege of watching lots of tv, and by default, commercials. I love the following:
E-Trade (1 & 2)
Kia (I've done this more than I care to admit)

And I hate the following:
Mighty Putty I think that if I had to interact with this man on a daily basis, I would have to kick him in the shins regaularly. What's with all the shouting?
Trains (!)

and the hits, they keep on coming

Well, I went to the doctor for my strep test (and they ain't swabbin' the throat for this one) and an initial dialation check (still shut tight), and we discovered the I am borderline for preeclampsia (high blood pressure during pregnancy along with protein in your urine). So what does this mean? No work for me. Lots bed rest. No walks. No IKEA on Saturday. (sniffle) Mostly, I have to lay around a lot of the time, but since it's not a case of "oh, the baby might fall out if you stand up," I can still do stuff around the house. Everything just has to be low-key. Which should be a snap, given that LPT is crazy. Oh well. I'm not that worried about it, just one more thing with this (final) pregnancy. My mother asked if I would be able to do things like answer the phone. I said yes, I would be able to do that and lots of other things, like lift my head and move my arms and legs. D told me I should have said that I can take phone calls from anyone but her - since she stresses me out. If that were the criteria, I would have a lovely little list of no-answers.

Maybe I can use this to my benefit after all.

I discovered that by drinking an espresso beverage around 5pm does wonders for what I can accomplish at night. Three loads of laundry, plus straightening the house after LPT hit the hay. And somehow, I was actually able to get up this morning and bathe, get myself and LPT dressed, put makeup on and be in the car by 8:20! This never happens. SO I kept it up with the coffee this morning and I am on top of things. Perhaps I'm going into some weird nesting phase, and my impending crash will completely do me in. Oh well.

I'm officially sick of rain. I never thought that I would say that, but here's the thing: I have short legs, and my pants are always a bit long. Which means that they soak up water EVEN BETTER since they are constantly in contact with the wet ground and/or puddles. And the damp makes its way about halfway up my calf, just after the point where my socks end, and then I get that cold sensation every time I sit. And if I want to sit in my chair with my legs crossed beneath me, I can look forward to two wet spots on my ass. No more rain.

And LPT, in all her adorable honesty, watched me get out of bed this weekend and exclaimed, "Mama, you're really BIG." Ah, to be young. And tactless.

D has promised LPT that, if she can be 100% potty-trained by her birthday, we can get a ferret. My main concern about this is (a) we're going to have something small and needy already, and very soon [the baby], and (b) I lose my keys, wallet, earrings, change, other jewelry, etc. on a daily basis without the help of any furry creatures. (though it has to be said that LPT helps more than I would like.) I don't like cleaning up poo, whether it's the human variety or otherwise - presumably ferrets, if not properly trained, will require cleaning up, or at least their cages will, and frankly, I'm not going to do it. This pet will be the sole concern of D and LPT. Though we'll see how it goes on the fragrance front - ferrets have quite the odeur and must be descented and bathed regularly to not stink up the place.

Of course, it cannot be denied that ferrets are adorable, and very smart, and that I almost got all weepy (hormones, people!) when LPT pressed her little face up against the glass case containing about twenty baby ferrets, and the wee ferrets did the same thing. If this plan goes through, the little addition would be called either Archimedes or Mr. Magoo. (Ferrets don't see so well, but they can smell and hear beautifully. As for the senility, I have no clue.)

Braxton-Hicks contractions = the devil. FYI. (and painless, my ass!)

I survived Easter without any major mishaps, even though my mother had the tastiest non-chocolate cake EVER and there was plenty of sugar-coated ham. Most everyone was sick in some way or another, but we managed to keep the candy consumption to a minimum re: LPT. And I still hate peeps.