7 Days Old

Because we watch way too much Nick Jr over here, I can't get this song out of my head.

Every day, it's "Oh, look at me, I'm ___ days old!"

So, yes, what that means is that our newbie was born last week. Finally. At 41 weeks + 5 days gestation, Dez came into this world like gangbusters. He was just over 9lbs and 22 inches long. He's got the largest hands and feet. He's so alert and reminds me of a much older person. He's flipping adorable.

I would have to tell you the whole story for it to make sense, and I will, but suffice it to say for now that things went just a leetle away from the plan in order for him to be born.

And by a leetle, I mean "almost as much as they possibly could."

But I'm happy with the outcome.

And so very, very grateful.

It's a totally different experience, coming home with a kid that you're not staring at, waiting for any sign of heart failure because it sounds sooo horrible and you don't want to miss it by accident.

Yeah. I haven't been doing that.

I also haven't been crying non-stop, paralyzed with fear about when the other shoe was going to drop.

He's passed every screening, so all those trips back to the ENT and Audiology with a newborn haven't proven necessary.

We haven't had to brave two hours of sweat-drenched freak-out (mine) due to hearing screams like I've never heard before (hers) at the Endocrinologist's office, trying to squeeze out enough blood for a CBC. No waiting for a doctor to come find an artery. No decision to be made about whether or not to stick a needle in the baby's scalp.

No geneticist, no social worker, no staying up all night trying to figure out on my own what "EI" means and how to get connected to it.

There have been "Congratulations!" instead of "I'm sorry."

I haven't lost any friends so far that I can tell.

It's quite bizarre.

Sleep deprivation? Check.

Sibling adjustment issues? Check.

Mom guilt? Check.

Icky and painful childbirth recovery symptoms? Check.

All that delightfully boring, run-of-the-mill stuff? We're going through it.

But I can't help but think of all that I missed last time.

How scared I was then as compared to how happy I'm allowed to be now.

If you've been here, you know what I mean.

If you haven't, I appreciate that you're here and learning.

Next time, I'll share some pics or something. Today was more a day of reflection.

Again, I'm grateful. For all of it.

Without the cloudy days, you don't appreciate the sunny ones nearly as much.

Seriously Stubborn

I'm realizing that it's difficult for some people to believe that I'm still pregnant.

But I am. 41 +1.

So I asked BD to take this photo of me yesterday as we were on our way in to my appointment to check on how our newbie is doing.


Apparently, he's just fine. He rocked the ultrasound and non-stress test. The only "issue" is that he's measuring big. I know it's just a guesstimate and all, but petite mama + big, comfy boy that doesn't appear to have any immediate plans to introduce himself brought out some concerns amongst my medical support staff.

That made yesterday a tad bit stressful for me.

Today is better. I have smart and caring friends that are earning their keep with reassurance and confidence in me.

And, also, I'm healthy. Doing great, in fact. No complaints other than the stuff that's par for the course at this point in any pregnancy. I still fit my wedding rings. I'm actually begging for some discomfort of the labor variety.

I still have every hope that Dez will come and greet us on his own, but if not, the interventions begin on Sunday night. Boo.

Just hope for the best, 'k?

Hoppy Easter and...

The answer to your question. <-- clicky-clicky

Pee-Pee Pants and Preparation

Still pregnant. Just in case anyone was wondering.

Also? No signs of impending labor.

You do know that whole "due date" thing is just a suggestion, right?

Intellectually, I am aware of that fact as well, but there's just something about that day going by that does something to a gal. Add in the possibility of still having as many as twelve more days to go and...

Personally, it has made me certifiably loony. Either I'm laughing or crying. Eating or sleeping. One extreme or another. Moderation has gone out the window.

Yesterday, I spent quality time with my OnDemand. Never before had I shown interest in Celebrity Apprentice, but yesterday? I needed to watch the season. And then get unreasonably upset that I couldn't fast forward because I would fall asleep, the show would end, and then I'd wake up and have to start from the beginning. Again. And again. Talk about first world problems.

[I did actually learn something though. Clay Aiken's charity sounds amazing and him visiting the kids made me all teary.]

Today, I decided to make myself at least somewhat useful. I got up and showered and dressed. Before noon!

Wait. Just to clarify, I do wake up in the mornings. I am responsible for picking out Playette's clothes, doing her hair, and taking her to school. After that, I usually have good intentions, but many a day I end up back in the bed with the curtains drawn.

Because I'm that awesome. #notproud

Oh, and get this:

We rearranged our bedroom many weeks ago in order to get ready for the newbie. I gave up my nightstand and replaced it with a bassinet.

I have now turned the bassinet into a nightstand.

Turns out it's quite the convenient spot for the remote control and there's this little ribbon slot on the side that allows me to not have to reach to the floor, huffing and puffing, for my cell phone charger. It slides right in! Huzzah! And it's also a great place for my water bottle. Who knew?!

I promise that I'll adjust appropriately when the time comes.

Whenever that may be.

Gah.

So. Wondering how Playette is taking all of this?

I think she thinks that I'm the biggest liar ever. She's been waiting on this baby for a very. long. time. I am starting to think that she's going to be scarred for life when he does come because Dez is just supposed to live in my big belly FOREVER. Or so it seems.

We've been struggling with a lot of clinginess and attention-seeking behavior lately. And then there's the whole accident thing.

This week, there were three days in a row where Playette came home in her spare clothes. I just kept washing them and sending them back the next day. It made it easier for me to assess whether something had happened or not because my brain was having a hard time recognizing right away whether that was what she had worn that morning or not.

Enter the pee-pee pants.

They are teal and velour. They just barely still fit. They are obvious.

And I've seen them way too much this week.

We went from no worries in the land of toileting to my heart dropping every afternoon.

We've had conversations. Grown-up conversations about how amazing our bodies are that they tell us when to eat, drink, and...POTTY! Remember that part? Yeah. Stop waiting until the last possible second, kid. Or, maybe tell a teacher you have to go before you start? Because "I'm wet," is an awesome sentence and all, but it's not the most desirable use of your vocabulary at this particular time.

So now you see why I've been taking to my bed.

It's just stressful.

And, again, intellectually I know that other kids in her class may wear pee-pee pants, too, occasionally. I just don't want anyone to look at my kid (any more) differently. I want so badly for her to just blend.

*sigh*

In the effort to help her adjust better to the actual bringing home of baby, we went out today and got a few things. Since regression due to change related to a new sibling is totally normal, it was suggested by her teacher that we try to put her in a mommy-type role instead of allowing her the option of reverting back to that of baby when Dez arrives.

That meant going to the toy store today. (Good thing I got dressed!)

She got this:


And this:

And then we stopped at the library to check out this:


This was all pretty impromptu and we're not really the toy-buying types (Playette is just so content with what she has), so I hope it goes over well. The doll and gear will remain in the trunk of the car until needed and she's already "reading" the book. It seems perfect for her and this situation. BD really impressed me by finding the book in under three minutes, quite randomly, since we got to the library right before closing time.

I wish I could say that we put more thought into this whole thing, but we went from having sooo much time to having none, so, again with the winging it.

There's a full moon tonight, y'all. Think labor-inducing thoughts, 'k?

Um, hi...

For those of you that are sticking around and showing me grace through this very dry patch of writer's block, I thank you.

So. What have we been up to lately?

Playette knows the baby is coming. It's strange interesting to watch her behaviors change because it's like she has this 6th sense thing happening. I almost want to ask her when it's going to rain next. And for some lottery picks.

I do tend to forget that even though her speech is delayed that she understands so much more. I mean, honestly, Self...it's not like we don't talk about the baby coming when we're around her. Duh.

But, yet, still, I sit here amazed. Sometimes she's great, with the kissing of the belly and the "good morning/night, Dez*"s and then other times she's a pure-dee wack-a-loon and I have to worry about getting a call from school that's she's not welcome back the next day.

Which reminds me. I went to see Kathie Snow speak back on the 15th. At the end of her amazing talk, I spoke up during the Q&A. I thanked her for reminding me that it's ok for my kid to have a bad day. I struggle with that. A lot.

Talk about a ton of pressure to put on a four-year-old.

It's almost as if I expect perfection out of her, something that her classmates' parents probably don't worry about lofting upon the shoulders of their own kids because they are "currently undiagnosed" and no one feels like those littles need to be the [booming voice] Posterchildren of Successful Inclusive Practices [/booming voice].

But I do.

And good grief. I should really stop.

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Last week, BD went to NYC for "work" work. That was also my first week of not having to go in to my own job-away-from-home. Even though that meant I had more free time during the day while Playette was in school, being 37-38 weeks pregnant also meant that I was also scared that my child would not eat of be bathed for 4 days while he was gone.

Because my energy and motivation level these days? HA!

Thankfully, my aunt came to town to help me out. She also kept me busy, which was ideal.

Things got done! The house was clean! We ate! Playette had baths!

Proof that things got done:


First of all, I never would have thought to do such a thing as put together little outfits. And, second, to have them all cleaned (and ironed!) and ready to go on the changing table like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA. Yeah, right. I can barely remember where BD keeps the iron.

It was pretty awesome and I was sooo grateful. I still am. I hope we didn't scare her off and that she really will come back after the babe is here.

=====

Now, after all of that, we actually give off the illusion of being "ready."

It's still so mind-boggling to me that I have no idea when this baby is going to come. I mean, today is Monday. I'll be 39 weeks on Wednesday. At 39 weeks with Playette, I was in the hospital being induced.

Looking back, it was awful. Not the worst thing ever in the grand scheme of what can happen in life, sure, but not what I have in mind for this time at all. I pretty much look at what I want now and can say "the opposite of what happened last time" and it works out great in my head.

And with that comes waiting.

So it could be tonight. It could be next week. It could be mid-April. I just don't know. And I have to be ok with that on some level.

In the meantime, I need to spend my days doing something other than sitting on the couch watching Good Burger while texting my friends. I know this much is true.

Ok, so I also watched Waiting for Superman today. That has to be worth something. (scared the crap out of me, it did)

And then I went for a walk this afternoon. Two miles. I used to run it. Today I huffed and puffed and shuffled through it. But I survived. I may even try that again tomorrow.

=====

Since you're so patient with me, here is my gift to you. A belly pic!

Wait. Make that a few.

And it's the real deal, yo. You can actually see the belly.

Because while digging through bins in the attic, I came across this gem of a Wal-Mart tee that I bought in New Orleans when I was pregnant with Playette.

Whilst knocked up is pretty much the perfect time for wearing a shirt like this, I think. Showing a little skin makes it that much more classy.





* Dez is what we call the newbie. The nickname started a while ago and then stuck. Even though BD said it never would. Neener Neener. Basically, it's just BD's initials and since we can't seem to agree on a name, Dez he shall be until we come up with something better. If we ever come up with something better, that is.

Short and Sweet

I am too tired to type. Most times, I am too bored with myself to even think.

When I do read, I get all crotchety about the internet and what it has done to our culture, akin to how my great-grandmother felt about indoor plumbing.

And no one wants to hear that, right?

I have quite the low tolerance level these days.

And I still don't think it's pregnancy hormones. I'm probably just not that nice of a person.

I hope it passes.

Shoot, it's too nice outside to stay mean forever.

Something I can be grateful for today: apparently, Playette's school is having pity on me at the moment and not requiring me to pick her up for being 0.1 over the temperature limit. They called, but then called back a few minutes later and said that they'd try her again in a bit to make sure that it really is pick-up worthy.

I really must have looked like crap when I dropped her off this morning.

She's been very fortunate this year in the sick department. All over, families have been dealing with nastiness all "winter" and we've, thankfully, been passed over. Not that it makes us special or anything. I really have no idea where my kid got this immune system, but I accept.

If anyone has any questions for me about anything, let me know. Obviously, I'm lacking in creativity. I'd welcome any excuse to write and become a more productive member of society.

35

Every time I think to come here and write, I decide to do something else instead.

Like sleep. Or eat. Or rant about my situation at work.

Fun at parties, that's me!

You know, I tried to quit my job a few weeks ago, but the circumstances made me so angry that I chose fight over flight. It's not the best timing for sure, but I feel like it's important for me to take a stand against the bad behavior. We'll see what happens. At the very least, I am now down to part time. Five hours a day, four days a week. Yesterday ended the first week with that schedule and so far, so good.

I've been thinking on and off about Kindergarten for the (not-for-long) Littlest. For a while, I debated taking the extra year for her since her summer birthday forced me into thinking I had a choice in the matter, but then one day I woke up and it felt like the decision was made.

You ever had that happen? Obsess x 1000000 and then *poof* it's over?

Yeah. It doesn't happen often for me, but I was grateful in this case. It was just like a peace that washed over me and then I heard "Why wait?"

I couldn't come up with a response to the voice in my head (which, yay?).

Like, really. What would be the benefit for my child to spend another year in Pre-K? So at least that part's done. And then, on top of that, we should be moving again before the new school year, so no point in me battling with the people here about placement (though, of course, we'll update the IEP appropriately). That just gave me years back on my life. No unreturned phone calls, no explaining why I think she should be here and not there, no begging either for or against the home school.

Buying myself some time is nice.

Because one thing I can't keep from happening is this new babe.

He's coming.

Soon.

Earlier in the week, I realized that I was 35 weeks pregnant and that meant that I had 35 days to go until my estimated due date. Days.

I'm a 35 year-old woman 35 weeks into my pregnancy with about 35 days to go.

Pardon me while I go freak my freak.

People ask me if we're ready.

What's "ready"?

Like, do we have stuff? Yeah...some. I didn't throw anything away after Playette so the pack-and-play, swing, bouncy seat...all those biggies are cleaned up and in good working order. Some great friends have donated boy-type hand-me-down clothes and other items, which is awesome.

But are we ready-ready?

Um. Well. Er.

It's just...different. We're not as anxious about things as we were when Playette was born. I think we realize that whatever we don't have and end up needing, we'll get. Or maybe we don't really need at all.

Also, and more importantly, we aren't naive. No matter how much we want to be blissfully unaware, we know that things can happen. There are no guarantees. And with that in mind, our primary focus is on the health and well-being of this little boy.

No surprises would be a bonus.

Everything else is gravy.



And now I want gravy. Dammit.