Still Pregnant

Whatever. She's late. I'm crabby. Jeff's anxious. Whatever.

One Down, Nine To Go

One cm down, nine more to go. It's called progress people. And I am happy. Of course, now it's looking like Jeff may get his birthday wish after all. If she decides to show up tomorrow, I don't know how I'll be able to top that next year. Last year, we got a house on his birthday. This year, perhaps a baby. Do I have to produce twins next year? A pool? I've got nowhere to go...
Provided we do not have a baby this weekend, I'll visit the doctor again on Monday and we'll discuss scheduling a time for me to come in and be induced. So by July 4th, we will have a baby. Finally. I don't know about you, but for me, it's been a long nine months. In the words of Tom Petty, "Waiting is the hardest part".
Stay tuned for the next installment. Which HOPEFULLY will contain more pictures. This time, outside the womb!

Jeff's more than ready for a football buddy.

The Finished Nursery

...we just need the baby!

Misery Loves Company

So they say misery loves company, right? Well the way I look at it, I fit the first part of that statement. Miserable. Yup, that's me. So let's just say I'm miserable. That would mean I love company, right? And Emma would be company, so, in closing, she would need to hurry up and come out to satisfy the latter part of that statement. Right? I'm just saying.

This is from this past weekend.

The Greatest Musician. Ever. Really.

OK, so I have 5 more days to go. I'm miserable, I'm not yet in labor, and so I'll spare you the boring details of what it's like to play the waiting game. Jeff has repeatedly asked Emma to make an appearance and she's not really listening as of yet.

So today, I feel compelled to share with you, dear readers, my newest favorite super star. Heidi Montag (Star of MTV's The Hills and arch nemesis of Lauren Conrad, also of The Hills, formerly of Laguna Beach), has launched a new career. As a singer. I suppose being a reality TV star was not enough. So she has "diversified" herself by adding singer/songwriter and fashion designer. I know nothing about her fashion line (Other than she came out with a line shortly after LC debuted her fashion line) and it's supposedly more "affordable" for us poor people who don't live in Hollywood and fork out $2,000.00 for a handbag. Thanks for thinking of us little people, Heidi. Nice of ya to consider us. Your clothes are hideous, but thanks anyway. But back to the singing career. She blows me away. [read: I vomit a little in my mouth when I hear her songs]

So several months ago, Heidi came out with a video she and Spencer (her on again, off again fiancee, boyfriend, manager, whatever) produced. It was terrific. [again vomitous]
Today, I find out from my friend Christine (who so graciously keeps me informed as to all of Heidi's latest accomplishments...er disasters as according to Perezhilton or TMZ) that Heidi has yet another song out. I immediately push the play button on the post because as horrible as it must be, I. Cannot. Not. Listen. AH! I couldn't even finish the song before I was googling the lyrics to make sure I was really hearing correctly. I then sent the lyrics to my BF Laura, promising not to recap the song. You see, several months ago, when the infamous black and white video was released, I felt compelled to recap the video for my BF.

Today, I tried (I suppose not very hard) to NOT recap the song for her, but I succumbed to the pressure of how wonderful (horrible) the song is. To keep myself from complaining about my "delicate condition" as Scarlett O'Hara would call it, I'll share my opinions of Heidi's antics. Enjoy. Or not. You'll see what I mean.

Let me start with the original video that started it all.
I believe it's called Higher by Heidi Montag.



My original thoughts:

Just my very humble opinion...
Heidi from The Hills has a music video out. Yes, I said a music video. She had a boob job, a nose job and her voice is absolutely craptacular. The first 30 seconds are just of her running at the beach (gotta test those new puppies out for bouncibility) and turning sideways so we can see her new assets. Several bikini shots and a dress (or is that a swim suit cover up?) open far enough down the front to reveal extra special side views of the harder than rock looking new breasts. I am trying to actually watch the video on youtube but I can only stand about 5 or 6 seconds at a time without dry heaving. So far she's rolling around on her towel (wow - she's really trying to get her money's worth by showing off her doctor's work) and singing in a high pitched Strawberry Shortcake meets Jem and the Holograms voice. Or was that Barbie and the Rockers. Barbie had a much deeper voice. And was actually cool. Oh jeez, Heidi just backed up on all fours into the ocean. Can it get any better than this?? The lyrics are something like Let me take you Higher and Spread your wings or something. I'm a minute and 13 seconds in and can *hardly* wait to see what Heidi has in store for me. She's so giggly and fun - it almost makes me yearn for the opportunity to go to the beach with her and play in the rising tides. Or on the funky fresh rocks. She looks as if she's perfected the classic 7th grade acting move where you throw your hands away from your upper body in a "what???" motion - watch the video...she does it several times in a row about a minute and a half into it. Watching her skeletal frame writhe around on the towel is making me hungry. For a large pizza. Her body is so perfectly proportioned - those protruding hip bones and those gargantuan new boobs - very nicely done, Dr. Jekyll. Oh, now she's just screeching "higher" several times in a row. Really gotta google the lyrics - this is Grammy worthy for sure. Did I mention this is terrible? Really, I'm not joking now. And the Blair Witch style shaky camera really adds to the authenticity of the lyrics. Whoever was filming must have been "higher" than a kite to think that

A. Heidi looks super great rolling around and backwards skip dancing
B. These lyrics are gonna really turn heads
C. Heidi is the next Madonna pop sensation to sweep the nation.

The black and white shots really emphasize the manufactured cleavage. Good call director. Because she sucks so badly, lets call attention to her newly formed attributes - maybe the people won't hear the pathetic words coming from her anorexic mouth and will instead concentrate on the fact that Holy Cow Heidi Montag may tip over from her unbalanced frame.
I made it! Three minutes and 26 seconds of sheer torture. The movements are classic Playboy video reject - all the fake posing and chest popping and hair flipping...the pouty lip look is so high school girl trying to be sexy. OK - I won't torture you anymore with my review of Heidi Montag Does The SoCal Coast. But just in case you are interested, here is a copy of those earth shattering lyrics.

Here I go now, I’m keeping my eyes open don't you let me down.
Nothing can stop me now, I know you hear this sound. Go ahead and let it out, don’t be afraid to fly, fly high, reaches past the sky
Here we go let it flow, spread your wings and fly, you never known till you let it go, going up, up, up, up
I’m only going higher, higher, I’m gonna take it higher, higher
No time for looking back, I dream and that’s a fact, I’m only going higher higher, higher
I feel the energy
I’m breaking the boundaries there’s nothing next to me
I look up and obviously it’s like I found the lease, They’re searching for the me, looks like I finally found the key, let me open the door for you.
Here we go let it flow, spread your wings and fly (fly), you never known till you let it go, going up, up, up, up
I’m only going higher, higher, I’m gonna take it higher, higher
No time for looking back, I dream and that’s a fact, I’m only going higher, higher, higher.
Higher, higher, higher, higher, higher, higher, higher, higher
I’m only going higher, higher, I’m gonna take it higher, higher
No time for looking back, I dream and that’s a fact, I’m only going higher, higher, higher.
I’m only going higher, higher, I’m gonna take it higher, higher
No time for looking back, I dream and that’s a fact, I’m only going higher, higher, higher.
Feel the wind on your face, we frolic or race, we can go at your pace, pace, the power lifted me so I set me free.
Am I dreaming



Yuck. Today, THIS is what I have discovered:



Fortunately - or UNfortunately (however you would like to look at it) there is no actual video that I can locate. Heidi's one lone picture just changes colors. Pretty sweet. Yellow to green to lavendar...psychadelic. Just like the lyrics!!


Heidi Montag's newest song is called Fashion. It should be titled Poser. It is a distant reminder of the "infamous Express tape from 1990". I believe this wonderful tape (yes I said tape) was called Musique D'Express and I (along with my other friends) purchased this tape from the clothing store Express back when we were in middle school. It was a compilation of French songs played over the loudspeakers at the store. We thought it was super cool and bought the tape. I actually found the tape on Amazon and these are the songs listed: SIDE ONE: 1. Claudia Phillips "Picasso" 2. Niagara "Soleil d'Hiver" 3. Francios Feldman "Joue Pas" 4. Luna Parker "Fric Frac" 5. Vanessa Paradis "Soldat" SIDE TWO: 1. Vanessa Paradis "Joe le Taxi" 2. Serge Gainsbourg "Mon Legionnaire" 3. Lio "Tu Es Formidable" 4. Pauline Ester "Oui, Je l'adore" 5. francois Feldman "J'ai Peur"
You love that it says "SIDE ONE" and "SIDE TWO", don't you? Back to the lyrical genius of Heidi. Vanessa Paradis Heidi is not. In fact, I say lets bring back the "Joe Le Taxi" and "Picasso" and leave Heidi's fake "French" accented designer lyrics alone.

The lyrics are as follows:


HEIDI!
Ohhh Ohhh
La La La
We Love Designer


I am, I’m too fabu-lous
I’m so fierce that it’s so nuts
I live, to be model thin
Dress me, I’m your manne-quin

(A bunch of designer names in a “French” accent)

Fashion put it all on me
Don’t you want to see these clothes on me
Fashion put it all on me
I am anyone you want me to be
Fashion put it all on me
Don’t you want to see these clothes on me
Fashion put it all on me
I am anyone you want me to be

Ohhhh Ohhhhh
La La La
We love designer

I need, some new stile-ttos
Can’t walk, down the street in those
You are, who you wear it’s true
A girl’s just as hot as the store she chooses

(A bunch of designer names in a “French” accent)
[Fashion Lyrics On http://www.elyricsworld.com/ ]

Fashion put it all on me
Don’t you want to see these clothes on me
Fashion put it all on me
I am anyone you want me to be
Fashion put it all on me
Don’t you want to see these clothes on me
Fashion put it all on me
I am anyone you want me to be

Ohhhh Ohhhhh
La La La
We Love Designer

Ohhhh Ohhhhh
La La La
We Love Designer

Fashion put it all on me
Don’t you want to see these clothes on me
Fashion put it all on me
I am anyone you want me to be
Fashion put it all on me
Don’t you want to see these clothes on me
Fashion put it all on me
I am anyone you want me to be

Fashion put it all on me
Don’t you want to see these clothes on me
Fashion put it all on me
I am anyone you want me to be
Fashion put it all on me
Don’t you want to see these clothes on me
Fashion put it all on me
I am anyone you want me to be

Ohhh Ohhhhh
La La La
We love designer

Ohhh Ohhhhh
La La La
We love designer


OK I know I said I wasn't going to recap, but starting a song with "HEIDI" is a little self centered, right? Or is that just me? And who writes this crap anyway? Spencer's little sister? "I'm so fierce that it's so nuts"??? Really. It's nuts that you are so fierce? Actually, I think you are NUTS. That's just it. You're just nuts. There's nothing fierce about you. And you live to be model thin? That my dear seems to be an oxy-moron. Living to be model thin is actually dying. And lets move onto the next lines of your song. No, quite frankly, I do not care to see clothes on you. Again, it's all about you, Heidi. I don't necessarily want to see those clothes OFF of you, particularly if you are sporting the waifish model thin body you proclaim to be living for, either. I don't give a crap what you wear. And do you really have such pathetic self esteem that you will be anyone I want you to be? Um...isn't that what prostitutes say? I clearly remember in the movie Pretty Woman Julia Roberts saying her name was what whatever Richard Gere wanted it to be. And movies do not lie. So basically, Heidi is a hooker. Oh, but that was sort of basic knowledge before this song came out. And I said I wasn't going to recap the song. I guess I'm a liar just like Heidi. :-) Blah blah blah, I am a shallow girl who wants to be hot and wear the designer stuff, so I'll utter some designer names (Dolce, Manolo, Garanimals, whatever) so I look cool. Like I'm SOOOO into fashion. More fluff words...repreat the lyrics again, second verse, same as the first, designer stuff. Done. Whew. That was short. But again, there is not video as of yet so I'm sure I'll be given more material to play with. Or at least we can only hope.

I'm Having Our Mail Forwarded to The Women's Center

Yesterday was a nightmare. Really. I'll just start off by saying that Emma is fine, I'm fine, and I'll recant the details of how the appointment went further below. But first I feel compelled to share what a FANTASTIC time Jeff and I had yesterday. And by fantastic I mean miserable, horrible, ridiculous, and down right ludicrous. The morning started off wonderfully, I woke up before the alarm, had breakfast at 5:30, cleaned the kitchen up, made the bed, opened all the curtains...I was on a roll. Jeff and I left a little later than we had planned and traffic was a little congested on the tollway, but we were having a nice talk all the way in to the doctor's office. We arrive and there are plenty of parking spots, all up front, for us to choose from (who in their right mind shows up at 7:35??) and we saunter in through the doors of the big women's center. My doctor is on the fourth floor, the imaging center and blood lab are on the first floor and I don't really know what's on the other floors...fertility is somewhere, heck, there is even a Walgreens, a maternity shop, and a gift shop there. We check in at the imaging center (I didn't forget my "permission slip" from the doctor authorizing my ultrasound - SCORE!)at 7:45 and the lady says, "we'll call your name shortly". Now lets back up. Two weeks ago when I made the appointment, they told me there were no openings and that I'd have to be considered a "work in" and my wait time would be from 30 minutes to 4 hours. I took the day off of work just in case but really I didn't think we'd be there the whole 4 hours. I'm getting ahead of myself. So it's been much longer than "shortly" and I now have to use the facilities. But with ultrasounds, they tell you you need a full bladder and drink fluid, blah blah blah. I'm full. I'm nearly popping. I'm trying to hold on because they may call me at...any...second. After I crossed the threshold of pain, I went up the front desk and politely asked if I was allowed to go to the bathroom. Allowed?? Whatever, I was trying to be nice so they'd call my name already. Yes I was allowed and I didn't have to go out of the imaging center and down the hall, I could just walk through the door to my left (where normally you have to be called to enter) and "follow the pattern on the carpet". I'm now like a mouse in a maze, but with a map, and so I follow the pattern. And wind up in the mammogram waiting area. OK, so at the fork in the hallway I should have followed the LEFT pattern...whatever, I made it. And relief was immediate. I come back out and now I'm hungry. Bodily function #1 handled, lets move on to #2...hunger. It's 9:00 and I'm ready for lunch. I send my sweet Jeff to the cafe down the hall (thank goodness someone though to open a food source there!) and he comes back with a chocolate muffin for me, a brownie and orange soda for him. I declined a drink because they were sure to call me any moment and I didn't want to be left with a drink. I should have been more concerned that a drink would make me have to "follow the (correct) pattern in the carpet" again, but I shouldn't have worried. I had to go several more times before my name was called. At some point, Jeff starts strategizing. "If they don't call your name in 10 minutes, I want you to fake labor pains". I remind him that faking labor will cause them to take me to the hospital in the next building over and not get me in for the required ultrasound. Strike one. "If they don't call your name in 15 minutes, just go up and slap the nurse". Yeah, we'll just end the inning on that one. Kill em with kindness honey. I'm not slapping anyone!! I'll never get back there. Jeff tried to win them over with his charm and wit but the nursing staff wasn't having it. At some point, I realize that some of the nurses have left and are now coming back to their desk with Styrofoam containers WITH THEIR LUNCH!! I'm so hungry! One of the mammogram side nurses comments to us that "we've been there a long time!" and Jeff smiles and now, each time she comes out to call names, he asks her oh-so-innocently, "Did you just call Parnell?" She kept smiling and laughing with him...er at him. The second time he asked her for clarification if she called Parnell, the other side door opened and a light shone on the nurse. Angels descended from Heaven as the nurse called, "Parnell?" I feel like the whole waiting area on our side stood up and clapped. I stood up and almost ran over people to get to the nurse. Jeff had to still wait until they called him back to see me, but at least I was in!! So now I am led to the little waiting room. Please take off your clothes and put on the flimsy gown such that the openings are in the back. (I thought this was a silly statement and pretty self explanatory until one of the women in the little waiting room said she was in there once with a woman who had the opening to the front. More show that the lady wanted and she had to tell the woman to go and turn it around. How embarrassing!) I am looking in my changing stall and there are no robes. Hmmm. I know to put the opening in the back, but lets be honest. Those little tie straps cover nothing and the gaps that would be left could be quite humiliating. Hence the robes that are also in the changing areas. Except we have none. I grasp the back of my gown as closed as I can and venture out where another woman is waiting. I ask her if there are robes anywhere and she says no. (She likes me because earlier when we were all still in the waiting room, Jeff told her she had "Fun Crocs". I didn't know shoes could be fun and I don't really like the way Crocs look, but whatever - she liked Jeff so now she's willing to share information with me.) She suggests taking another gown and wearing it "backwards" to make sure all necessary parts are covered. Duh. There are 4 other women changing and we all come out in double gowns - grateful for the Croc Lady's wisdom. We start sharing pregnancy stories and I notice there is another woman in there with us. She says to me, "You must be the other work in ahead of me" so we laugh at how ridiculous the wait has been. She says, "I've been here since 9:30" and everyone gasps. Yeah, I'll see your 9:30 and raise you 7:45!!! Now I get even bigger gasps. But my smug expression is quickly erased when they call the second work in before me. What the?? Thankfully I am called within minutes and I am not forced to bust out my Alief ninja skills on the poor unsuspecting nurses. Do not call the second lady before me. I have clearly put in my time and should be called first. I have been here longer, I am more pregnant, and if my husband finds out you called her first, my ninja skills will not be the threat you should worry about. *grin* My actual ultrasound experience was wonderful. She put a pillow under my legs, and we begin the exploration of the home I have created for Emma. We confirmed she was a girl again (didn't occur to me that anything would change there, but I got about 6 picture of the confirmation. One would have been OK - don't need 6!) and this little girl has hair people. I'm not talking baby fuzz...she's got hair! I could see the hair moving in the fluid. It looks like it hangs off her head by about an inch. She gets that from her Mamma. It's kind of hard to tell from the picture, but you can see the side of her head and all that wispy stuff floating out the left is hair. Pretty amazing. But the best news is that as of Thursday, June 12, she was 7 pounds, 3 oz. They do not think she will get to be 10 pounds so a C Section shouldn't be in my future. YAY! They finally let Jeff in and we went over the pictures and did more videos which I'll post below. We were both in awe at the amount of detail. It was very surreal and we are both so anxious to meet her!! We left the ultrasound center on a high and got in the elevator to head to the 4th floor to see my doctor. I check in at the front desk and she marvels at how long we've been there. Don't kill my high, lady. I go back to the doctor's office and it's now about 2:00. We haven't eaten and Jeff is starting to shake, so he goes back down to the 1st floor to get some food. I told him I would call him when I was called back and we'd go from there. At 2:15, the nurse calls my name (I was starting to sweat as we were supposed to have our Continental shower at 3:00). She looks at me and says, "Oh you must have been waiting a long time" or something like that. I tell her she has no idea. But she quickly corrects me and says, "Oh no, I know you checked in at 7:45 - what happened??" I start to tell her how there were no appointments available, so they had to "work me in" and blah blah blah. She takes my blood pressure, weight, and leaves so I can change. I should have just worn the stupid gowns from downstairs up here. But as soon as she leaves, I can hear her outside my exam room talking with the other nurses and they are all gasping at the fact that I have been here for so long. I barely have time to change and sit back down on the bed table when I hear her grab the nurse practitioner and tell her the story. My door immediately opens and in walks the NP. She is blown away that I have been at the office so long and asks for the story. So I tell her and she ends with "Those women down there are idiots!!!" Couldn't have said it better myself. *grin* She examines me, says Emma is ready so any day we could meet her. I am not ready yet, but she is slightly concerned that my placenta is getting old. I asked if that was serious and she said it was no big deal. She said you could have a placenta that was 100% perfect, but not have a heartbeat. SO she asked me to do a kick count once a day after a meal. I should lie down on my left side and try to count 4 kicks in 30 minutes. If I don't get 4 in 30 minutes, go another 30 minutes. I should be able to feel 4 kicks in one hour. If not, I should call her. Emma moves around so much 4 kicks is not hard to count. She does mention that my doctor may want to consider inducing me because of the placenta, but we'll see next week. It's now 3:00. Luckily, the women planning our shower were running behind and they postponed it until 3:30. Sweet. I meet Jeff coming out of the elevator and we go down to the 1st floor to pay our parking. Good thing the parking caps off at $5.00 a day! We put our ticket in and it shows up that we've been there for OVER 7 HOURS!! Can you imagine?? We tried to get a print out of the receipt, but it didn't work. Unbelievable. I asked Jeff to take me through Burger King's drive through because I was starving...I crammed a burger down, we drove to Continental and made it up to the 17th floor with 10 minutes to spare. We had a lovely shower, loaded up the car, somehow managed to avoid rush hour traffic while going home and stumbled through the door about 5:45 or so. We were exhausted!!! Heck, I'm exhausted just telling the story! Stay tuned for more updates as we get closer and closer to D Day.

House Rules, Nighttime Rituals, and Falling in Love

Last night was very nice - it was our 2 year anniversary and Jeff had flowers, chocolate, and a beautiful card waiting for me when I got home last night. The card was so nice - it had lots of "stuff" on it and he was proud that it was "like a scrapbook card" . He wrote some beautiful words on it and that's always my favorite part of any card from him. We had a nice dinner and I was ready for bed by about 8:30! I didn't say anything until almost 10:00 though, so by the time I tumbled into bed, I was dog tired!!
Now speaking of dogs, I do not like the dogs to sleep on our bed. Number one I don't want to sleep with all that dog hair, and Kylie and Bear have a lot of it and each one has different types so it makes it hard to clean off. I also think that quite frankly, I spoiled Miss Kylie Mo during her younger years when she was allowed to sleep with me, such that now if she gets on the bed, she thinks Mommy gets one side and Kylie gets the other. I'm not sure where she thinks Daddy is supposed to sleep. I suppose she doesn't care!
But each night for the past several weeks, when I get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, my sweet little Bear comes into our room from the living room to check on me. As I go back to bed, I stop at the foot of the bed on Jeff's side where Bear settles down while I'm in the bathroom and scratch him under the chin. However, I think that a scratch under the chin in dog language translates to "Hi there boy, why don't you jump on the bed after I settle in". You can imagine what happens when I crawl back into bed. I finally get myself situated again and then a little fluffy face appears next to me. He settles himself between Jeff and I and quickly knocks out. At 3am, he's just so darned cute and fluffy and cuddly that I can't possibly make him get down. I think he senses I'm in a weakened condition and knows when to "attack".
So lately, we start out with no dogs on the bed, but usually in the early morning, we are joined by that fluffy, cuddly, sweet little Baby Bear that somehow has managed to win my heart.
Don't tell Kylie!!

ABCDEFG, Next Time Won't You Count (Down) With Me?

19 days until my due date. Just 19 days. Now, I realize she may come earlier or she may decide she's not ready and (GASP) come later. Jeff and I are hoping for not later! Today is our anniversary and I am a bad wife because I have not made a card yet. Today sort of snuck up on me, and being that my energy level is at a negative to begin with, being creative and coming up with a beautiful card that would reflect the endless love I have for him didn't happen. I make a list each weekend (Jeff loves these lists, LOL) of "things" I want to get done that weekend. Everything from listing each individual load of laundry, to changing the sheets, or finishing painting the upstairs bathroom. Usually I complete most of the list (and I actually mopped this past weekend!) but this past weekend it wasn't happening. I did get all of the diapers washed (Apparently you have to wash them 4-5 times before you use them so they fluff up and become more absorbant) and folded and put away. That was a big task - I can't tell you how hard it was to keep track of how many times each was washed/dried - I had post it notes on the tops of the washer and dryer to remind me what number I was on. But on the second page is where I listed "extra" non-cleaning things I needed to do. Make shower hostess bags is on there, as well as "make A card". That was code to me for anniversary card for my sweetie in case Jeffrey looked at the list and wanted to help cross things off. You can well imagine that "make A card" is still on my list, waiting patiently for me to complete the task and cross it off. Would someone like to invent a day pass for pregnant women? It would be like a get out of jail free card. You get x amount issued when you go to your first doctor's visit and you may turn them in when you need a day of non-pregnancy. I would turn one in today. LOL! I'd make the most spectacular card, clean our house from top to bottom, finish painting the bathroom, then put color on the walls, get the little knick knacky stuff put away, readjust the car seat base in Jeff's car and buy some nursing pajamas. Wait, I know there is more I would want to do...
19 more days. I wonder if I will be instantly more mobile when Emma is finally out. I know I'll still probably look pregnant - all my friends are making a point to stress the fact that I should not expect to go home in my prepregnancy clothes. But will I be more able to get out of bed? And clean my shower? Hmmmm....
Until then, I will patiently continue to count down the days.

How Your Sense of Normal Gets Skewed...and Kudos to My Nephew Jake!!

Normal. I used to own a button in the 7th grade that said Normal in red with a line through it like a No Smoking button. I think my first boyfriend gave it to me. Anyway, I sported that button like I was the coolest - I did NOT want to be normal and thought the idea of being unique and spunky appealed to me. 100 years later, as I watch my fingers and feet swell, and it's becoming increasingly harder to breathe as little Emma crawls up under my ribcage, I yearn for normal. I'd like to wear clothes that don't have to tie in the back (and whoever thought this up anyway?? The bigger I get, the harder it is for me to tie those strings and now Jeff has to do it for me!) and pants that don't have a panel that covers my entire stomach and by entire, I mean all the way up to my chest. I'd like to be able to paint my own toes and, heck, even get off the couch without needing Jeff's helping hand. My bed would be my haven again (yes I know I'll not be sleeping for a while, but at least I'd be comfortable when I was able to catch a few winks. I wouldn't have to be nervous that when the dogs jumped on the bed (OK mostly Kylie Mo since she weighs 75 pounds but doesn't know it) they won't walk on my tummy...and if I have to move out of her way, how quickly can I do it? It would be nice to sleep on my left side sometimes and if there was a natural disaster or an emergency, I'd be toast. Speedy Gonzales I am not. Arriba, arriba.
Normal looks pretty good right about now.

Now you are going to bear with me as I'm going to be very proud Aunt Heather!
My nephew Jake goes to a private Christian school and they recently had their awards night. Last year, at the Kindergarten awards night, Jake captured the Christian Character Award. What an honor. He was the only one in the entire kindergarten to receive this award. Well, this year, at the awards ceremony, Jake's name was called again for the Christian Character Award for the first grade!! Jeff and I are so proud of him. What an honor to receive the award at all, let alone two years in a row!

Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy

You got excited at the thought of some Deep Thoughts, didn't you? Well, because I don't want to be a liar, here are some of my favorites...and then we'll get down to business.

real Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy

I bet the main reason the police keep people away from a plane crash is
they don't want anybody walking in and lying down in the crash stuff,
then, when somebody comes up, act like they just woke up and go, "What
was THAT?!"

If you ever fall off the Sears Tower, just go real limp, because maybe
you'll look like a dummy and people will try to catch you because, hey,
free dummy.

If you lose your job, your marriage, and your mind all in one week, try to lose your mind first, because then the other stuff won't matter that much.

I have to say, I got one of his books for my 16th birthday and I still laugh like a lunatic when I read them. So, anyway, on with the update.

We went to the doctor Thursday and I have to say, things are changing at this stage of the game. After the routine blood pressure, listen for the heartbeat, get my weight, the nurse starts digging in some drawers for some "instruments". They are enclosed in plastic and I'm realizing that this visit is going to be different. And I'm not exactly pleased. So I ask her what we will be doing today and she said that I will be having my cervix examined. Start adrenaline rush here. She smiles and leaves (she really is one of my favorite nurses, but I am a bit neurotic and am only able to concentrate on what the good doctor will find). You see, I have been saying that I am ready to have this baby and meet her and hold her and while I mean all of these things, I am now suddenly acutely aware that I am indeed not ready and if he tells me I have started to dilate, I think I will fall off of the pseudo bed. So I'm sitting as nicely as possible on the pseudo table complete with the drape around me to make me more modest. Then I realize that the backside of me is not covered by the lovely drape and move quickly to cover all things me that are not meant for everyone to see. This apparently makes Jeff laugh as he asks why I don't want the hallway to see my naked hiney. So now I'm covered, sitting on the dumb table bed and I keep looking to the shrink wrapped instruments on the counter. Not wanting to get up and disturb my strategically placed drape, I tell Jeff to get up and look at what is on the counter. "Some sort of CSI looking swab" is what he comes up with. What are they doing to me? Is this a trick PAP Smear? What is going on. The heart rate continues to go up. Before I can either calm myself down or jack myself up any farther, the good doctor comes in. All smiles. Yeah, he hasn't been staring down some shrink wrapped instruments for 15 minutes. I'm not good at the unknown if you can't tell. :-)
On with my antics...er story. So apparently the swab is not for Gil Grissom, but rather to test to see if I have Group B Strep. This is apparently not completely uncommon and is not harmful to me, but is severely harmful to the baby. If it is positive, I am not to panic, because they will just give me an antibiotic when I'm in labor and that will protect Emma. Feeling better. Then he does the pelvic and then we're done.
He did not laugh at me this time. But he did ask me to make an appointment with the imaging center downstairs as he wants to go over the ultrasound and start making decisions. Will I go into labor? Will he decide she's too big and schedule a C-Section? All that remains to be seen as a result of the ultrasound. He did say that it was very possible that she was not a huge baby and that I was just big and would be able to have her naturally. Well, not NATURALLY, please pass the epidural, but I would not necessarily have to have surgery. Awake. In a hospital. All of which I would so be looking forward to. Sigh.
So we say our good byes (he will be out of town for the next week or so, so I do not have to come in next week.) Doctor vacation. Additional stress on me. Sweet Baby Emma, stay inside a bit longer please. As long as he's back when she is coming, we'll be just fine.
So down we go from the 4th floor to the 1st floor and into the imaging center. I thumb my nose at the blood drawing place across the hall and thank my stars that I'm done with that area. I smile at the women behind the counter and announce that I need to schedule an ultrasound in two weeks. The nurse smiles back (sort of) and says she doesn't have anything available in 2 weeks. I smile again, and say, "Oh, it doesn't have to be two weeks exactly from today - we can go forward or backward a day or two." I am so accommodating. Then she explains that she doesn't have anything open for 4-5 weeks. I quickly do some calculating and realize that this is past my due date. A bit anticlimactic, don't you think? I now look to Jeff like I don't understand now what to do and he quickly explains to the nurse that "my wife will be in labor by then!" Sweet Jeff. He can tell my anxiety level is going up and I can see it is affecting him as well. I turn back to the nurse as she laughs and says, "Look, what I'll do is schedule you for Thursday the 12th as a 'work in' which means that you get here at 7:30 am and your wait time will be anywhere from 30 minutes to 4 hours. My eyes glaze over at the mention of 4 hours and she quickly assures me that they will do their best and perhaps someone will oversleep and not make it for their 7:30 am appointment. She gives me the paper I will need to get in the door and Jeff and I head out to our car. I realize that I have no way to schedule an appointment with Dr Irwin "afterwards" because who knows how long I'll be sitting in the Imaging Center? I decide rather than head baaaack up to the 4th floor, I'll just call the nurses directly tomorrow and work it out with them. I have a fake appointment at 11:30 but the nurse said whenever I'm done - be it before or after just come upstairs and they'd work me in. I'm going to be getting worked in all over the place on the 12th. But all in all, I'm starting to go back to my "just get her out" feelings. Which brings me to this morning.
I wake up at 4 something and have to visit the little cowgirl's room. Apparently, Jeff has the same idea and he gets up as well. We meet back in the bedroom and I tell him the thought of trying to get back into bed distressed me (Under normal - read NOT PREGNANT - circumstances, I like to sleep like a princess. Like down feather beds, down pillows, down comforter, the bed is up 6 inches higher than your bed probably is and I love it. My mamma told us that our beds were a safe place to be and that it was a wonderful place. Perhaps I didn't like to go to bed as a child, but it worked. I love my bed. Normally. I've taken off the feather bed and need Jeff's help to "pull" me in at night.) My right ear is going to look like I've spent time training for UFC because I can only sleep on my right side and I wake up with it sore. Trying to flip to my left side is a feat better left for someone more agile and plus, the fan can't blow on my face and I get too hot. So I tell Jeff I'm going to go out to the living room and set up shop on the couch. He says he'll come with me. Sweet husband. He gets me situated on my left side on the couch (ah relief already) and settles down into the big chair for some sleep. I thought. He asks if I mind if he turns on the TV. No problem, I fall asleep to it all the time. He then carefully lowers the volume and selects the Academy Award winning movie, Harley Davidson and The Marlboro Man. Seriously? There is a movie named that??? Aaaand it's about robbing an armored van (or something along those lines) and I know this because of the incessant gunfire that occurs during the movie. Gunfire that doesn't allow me to drift peacefully off to sleep. Finally at 6:30 I ask nicely, "Honey, next time I come out here, you don't have to come with me" Meaning, I am still tired, this baby feel like she weighs 90 pounds and is sitting on my pelvic bone, I can hardly get up off the couch without your help, and I cannot believe you turned on the TV and kept me awake with a dumb made for TV movie about a man named Harley Davidson and his companion The Marlboro Man. He didn't want me to have to be alone in the living room. Such a sweetie! But really, thanks anyway - I'll pass next time. LOL. I'm so lucky he's sweet and supportive 99.9% of the time. This morning was an oversight. At 6am I was not amused, but at almost 5pm, I'm smiling and laughing at the story.