Eruptions

The "outlaws" have come and gone -- well, gone is a relative term (no pun intended). They are still in my house and I'm at work, and they should be truly gone by the time I get home... but we're expecting up to 8" of snow today and so nature could throw a wrench in their travel plans. God help me.

We had some good times, but there was the usual passive-agressive and/or condescending crap. I have to believe she doesn't know she's doing it. But whatever. Lots of snarky comments, lots of jumping to conclusions/reacting without really listening to what we're saying, and lots of implied disapproval ("You're serving THAT wine with dinner? Hummph." "You're putting THAT bowl in the dishwasher? Hummph.").

G. got into it with her over politics at one point (always a fruitless fight, but I appreciate him standing up for what we believe in, especially when she acts like anyone who disagrees with her old-fashioned and self-interested politics is a complete numbskull). She wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise (at some point she asked the waitress to bring him a Valium -- nice), and he finally -- politely -- told them that while they were entitled to their different opinions, he would not accept her condescension about something he believed in, and she should therefore feel free to take public transportation home. I guess this doesn't sound like much, but she's a force that can be hard to stand up to so I considered it a small act of valor. Unfortunately, she basically laughed it off. She must not realize she's alienating herself from her children....

Oh and one more: when asked by her other son on the phone how I looked (this is the first time any of our family has seen me since I've been really 'showing'), she answered, "Ummm, HEALTHY"? As in, UMMM, FAT? Really, why couldn't she have just said "Great," and be done with it? I think I am too sensitive. But seriously -- EVERYTHING is snarky.

Speaking of snarky, I feel like I shouldn't even be obsessed with these little grievances in light of some much more upsetting news. My dear friend SS, who was apparently beautifully recovering from leukemia, has discovered that it's back. And, he can't undergo anymore chemo. Which leaves a totally experimental, totally unapproved, full-of-potential-side-effects-and-without-any-real-data drug to try. If it doesn't work, he may only have a matter of months left with us.

I haven't even been able to cry -- I am totally in denial right now about this. It seems impossible. Much easier, then, to dwell on my mother-in-law's typical antics -- much more tangible. And an easier target for my anger.

Information Overload

At the prodding of several well-meaning shower-planning friends, over the weekend I decided to make my first visit to BabiesRUs in the interest of starting a registry. Oh my God. That place is freaking huge! I guess I had this idea that I'd just look at everything and choose a few things and be done with it. I mean, with all the government safety requirements, blah blah blah, how different could everything be?

To make a long (but boring) story short, I wandered around aimlessly for about 40 minutes, until I was totally overwhelmed -- then basically got out of there as fast as I could. And went and bought a $15 book, which breaks it all down. I don't know why I had been so resistant to buying a book... I already feel more sane. Slightly. Although I can't even begin to think about such things as breast pumps. GOD.

In other news, my parents-in-law are descending this afternoon -- for a week! In fact, they are probably already in my house, waiting for me (us) to get home so we can entertain them. I am already steeling myself for a lot of unsolicited advice and passive-aggressive criticism (MIL's dual specialties). I will report back on the latest snarky comments if I can even bear to think about them anymore once they leave.

Meanwhile, I am scheduled to go on a business trip to Austin tomorrow evening through Friday -- which, depending on who asks me, is either terrible or perfect timing with the in-law visit!

Back just in time to leave again

Florida was great. Started cold and I was a bit grumpy about that, but by the end, it was 75 degrees with a light breeze off the lovely sea, and not a cloud in sight. Redemption! My only complaint (other than the fact that our hostess eats one real meal a day, making me feel like a huge -- albeit justified, for once -- hog for feeding my face all the livelong day) was that I burned the SHIT out of the tops of my feet. And people, that itches!! And hurts! And Advil is temporarily off the menu...! (Thankfully, green aloe vera goo is not.)

It was weird though, at moments. I felt so free, walking down that beach. And yet -- although I rejoiced in seeing the cute little kids in cute teeny weeny kiddie bathing suits playing in the sand, and thought "I can't WAIT to bring our child to the beach" -- I also felt a little sad that G. and I probably won't get to dash off for little (romantic?) getaways like this for much longer, or at least as easily. I know that's normal. But I felt a little guilty even thinking it. Things are about the change, bigtime. Big, big, bigtime. I fear I'm not ready!! But here she comes anyway!!

And the other thing I noticed about myself, which really I've GOT to stop: making snide (although private) comments about certain uglyish traits of children I happen to see. Like, "Ha ha, that kid has a HUGE head," or "Oh my god, that kid looks like Chucky," or whatever. It's a total joke, but I just know it's BAD BAD karma. I mentioned this to a friend who said, oh well, even if you have an ugly kid you'll never know it, because she'll be beautiful to you! And while I'm sure this is true... I also am sure the people I've made said comments to will say behind my back, "Ha, remember all the smack she used to talk about other people's kids? And she has the doofiest-looking kid of all!" And I don't want that (even if it's true). So, note to self: cut it out!!

Okay, this was going to be a short post on the fly. Now I'm way behind and I have to get out of here in an hour to take G. out for his birthday (Feb. is a big month in our family). Tomorrow, I head down south for a work trip for a couple days... will be nice to be out of the office at least, although I'm so unprepared.

Later, gators!

Here comes the sun!

Heading to Florida for four days tomorrow! Break out the maternity swimsuit! Yeahhhh!

I don't even know what to say about this.

At the risk of perpetuating the very thing I am mocking, I give you this:

My friend S.B., a new mother and recently self-proclaimed pregnancy guru, prides herself on sharing information that "the books won't tell you -- the straight dope." This includes choice tidbits like pooping in the shower following delivery, so you don't have to deal with the pain of wiping. Okay, that makes sense. To be honest, I wouldn't have thought of it... I guess.

So here's her latest e-mail:

have u figured out how to have semi-comfy prego sex yet? i should have included it in my tips...lay on edge of bed, w/ [G.] standing over you--place a chair behind him and rest your legs there-finally, support yourself semi upright with a six pillow nest in the shape of a U. keep me updated!

Okay. This is just a bit too... visual, my dear. Especially when you invoke my husband's name in your imagery. And -- keep you updated? What exactly does that mean? I think I won't, but uh, thanks for the advice!

A rude welcome to the 4th decade

Well, actually, I suppose it should be called "A rude departure from the 3rd decade," since it managed to pass just in time for my 30th birthday...

The scene: 5 pm Tuesday afternoon, my desk. A day unremarkable in that I once again felt nauseous. Story of my (pregnant) life. Only this time, it wasn't just a hint of possible barf. It was a barf explosion. Thankfully, I made it to a lined trash can -- but only barely.

Hauled myself off the floor, drove home, and dragged myself onto the couch. Then spent the next 7-8 hours groaning, trying to distract myself while watching a bad movie with G., only to scream at 20 minute intervals: "PAUSE IT! PAUSE IT!" And running to the bathroom trying to guess which end would explode next. (I know, I know... too much information.)

For the first time in a long while, eating did not make it better. Indeed, eating was NOT. AN. OPTION. At some point it became painfully clear that this was not pregnant-sick. This was sick-sick. (Do you think it could have been sparked by the three days of over-eating rich, spicy, Indian leftovers from my party? Huh.)

Dehydrated, exhausted, tummy muscles strained to their max -- and still kinda queasy -- I lay on the couch all day. Didn't enjoy looking in the fridge, and didn't even really enjoy daytime t.v., which is how I know I'm not faking it. I think this is my penance for thinking about calling in sick earlier this week when the weather was so nice!

Today, I'm much better, and 30 to boot. The silver lining is, I'm just delighted to be back to regular-old morning(/evening/night) sickness-sick! Ahh, queasiness with no vomiting -- it truly is all relative (!).

Happy birthday to me -- hope it remains barf-free!

A very nice time

My very, very, very thoughtful husband threw me a very, very, very unexpected surprise party for my 30th birthday this weekend (actual b-day is Wednesday). Dang, I didn't see it coming AT ALL! I guess this means he has a heretofore unknown devious streak -- hopefully he will continue to use it for good and not evil.

About 20 people were there, the house looked absolutely gorgeous (kudos to some very generous, creative and sneaky friends for that), and there was even a catered Indian feast. I was so blown away I had to throw back a non-alcoholic beer -- something I haven't even craved since I got knocked up.

In retrospect, I probably should have been tipped off by the fact that he basically forced me to take a shower to run errands at Costco, that he virtually threw me out of the house for a few hours Saturday morning to go grocery shopping, and that he was unusually motivated to clean the house (even the bathrooms!). But you know what, I was just so damn happy that he wanted to clean the bathrooms, I didn't even question it. Would you? Please.

What a sweet boy. What a nice thought. Love him. (Clean bathrooms would have been enough!)

Girlies.

G. called from Chicago tonight. He's taken to saying "Goodnight, girlies." To both of us.

Nothing sweeter than that.

And speaking of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition:

Am I alone in thinking that putting up crown moulding in the laundry room is taking one's Bob Vila fantasies a little far? Apparently the answer to that question is yes -- in my household at least.

But damn, my man really is handy. Hard to complain about that in the long run. Sort of sexy, really.

Decisions, decisions

G. is out of town on a work trip tonight. What should I do?

I could do something nice, like make the house all sparkly clean to surprise him when he gets home from his long, arduous journey tomorrow.

I could go grocery shopping and prepare a really excellent, multi-course dinner that is waiting for him when he gets home.

Or I could lie on the couch in my drawstring pajamas, eating peanut butter out of the jar perched on my large belly, watching tivo'd episodes of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.

Hmmmmm, it's SUCH. A TOUGH. DECISION.

Hard Times

It's been a difficult few days.

Our very good friends M&B, who have a beautiful 2-year-old child and had just finished a smooth, perfect second pregnancy, lost their darling baby three days after he was born. It was an extremely rare condition in which too much blood was going to the brain and not enough to the heart. This is oversimplifying it of course, but at the end of the day the fact remains: He is no longer with us.

I am hurting for them so much, and not at all able to comprehend the pain of returning home to an empty nursery, and empty crib, and an empty belly all at once. Although I understand the rarity of it, of course it also gives me some pause as I enter the second half of my own pregnancy. I know you cannot live your life in fear, and I do try my best to focus only positive energy this baby's way, but the prospect of that kind of loss is staggering and heartbreaking. Mostly, though, I just ache for my friends.

We spoke to them last week after we got the news, and they were very philosophical and supremely generous: M. told us, unprompted, "If anything this turn of events makes us more happy and more hopeful for your pregnancy, because we have a new sense of the value of these lives, the joy they can bring, and how much they should be cherished." Truly, it was almost too much. I could never have that kind of selflessness. Or even fake it.

There are four couples in our "group" -- coincidentally, we were all pregnant at once, all due within 6 months of each other. The kids would have all been in the same grade at school. I imagine B. will recognize that void forever. I think we all will.