Think before speaking! Please!!

This weekend was was of those weekends where you have nothing planned, but it ends up being busy anyhow. Our "to do list" before LadyBug arrives is starting to dwindle - thankfully! We knocked a few items off the list over the past few days - but our house is still a complete disaster but I have no energy to do anything about it.

On one of our chore outings, we went to the dry cleaners. The owner took a look at my protruding massiveness and said, "when's baby due?" I told her seven more weeks. She gave me this crazy look and said, "only one?" Yes....only one. Stupid lady.

Then Sunday, while looking at strollers at the dreaded BabiesR.s, this older man looked at me, looked at the stroller, and said, "ya know, that one only holds one." I let out this crazy laugh.

So much fun.

Had my shower at work yesterday. About 4 hours beforehand, I started getting really dizzy and nauseous. I had to lay down in one of the conference room and take a nap with the lights off. I was determined to get through the shower. It was fun, but I jammed through it in like 45 minutes. More onesies!

Now I'm at home. Sick again. Sore throat, congestion, earache. So much fun. Poor BigB. I was such a whiny little ninny last night. I was miserable. Still miserable. Coughing like crazy - i wonder what the baby thinks of it. It must be pretty loud in there.

I'm watching back to back episodes of "A Baby Story." Thankfully all of them have been positive and made the whole birthing event seem easy. We start our birthing classes tomorrow night. I'm sure we'll hear lots of stories. But...just seven more weeks!

Friends Award and 32 Week US

I'm a little slow on getting this up, but appreciative nonetheless!!

I received the Friends Award from Martha and Are You Kidding Me. I feel so loved!

Here's my eight friends I'd like to forward to (sorry if there's repeats!). Just send the award to 8 of your friends!

Wade and Erika

Are you Kidding Me

Kristin O

Leslie Lane

Jen

Virginia

Faith

And Anyone Else who Happens to Read this blog!

On a slightly different note, we had our 32 week OB appt and ultrasound. Got to see Lady Bug in 4D! It was awesome. Although, the umbilical cord was in front of her face which made her look like she had huge Angel.ie Jol.ie lips. I'm talking HUGE! She definitely didn't get those from me. Lipliner has been my friend for a very long time.

She is a big girl. They estimate she's at 4 lbs 7 oz. Already! And we've got eight (gulp!) weeks to go. So...they're thinking somewhere in the 8.5 pound range. Whew. That's big. But then again, we're not slight people. BigB is 6'2" and quite broad (with a head the size of Texas, to boot). I'm 5'8" and "sturdy" as I like to describe myself.

While the tech had the probe thingy on my belly, Lady Bug gave it a huge kick. The tech's hand literally bounced into the air. She said she didn't think she'd ever had a baby kick that hard before. Yeah! We've got a feisty one on our hands!

Then the Doc came in and said she was "very healthy" and that I should focus on eating protein and drinking water. Hmmmmm. Does that mean he knows my obsession with all things baked and bread related? I suppose he's right. Delivering a watermelon doesn't sound like fun. Although, I read somewhere that having a big baby is good because they practically crawl out.

Our bi-polar weather has swung to sunshine this afternoon. Yay! It was grey and rainy this morning and yesterday, 70 on Tuesday. Just plain crazy. But, like I always say, if you don't like the weather in Seattle, just wait an hour and it'll change.

Saturday was a bittersweet day. BigB's grandmother passed away about a week ago, and we went to the memorial service in the morning. Just a few hours later was my first shower, with both sides of our family in attendance.

BigB's grandma had just turned 90, and had lived by herself in her house up until four or five months ago. She was such a sweet, caring person. Her life revolved around her four boys and her OVER 500 foster kids. In her 40's, she became a licensed short-term foster care provider - the place they took kids when they were first admitted to the system, before they found more permanent living situations. Can you imagine? Having so many children pass through your doors - sometimes for a night or two, sometimes for months. And she was a single mom. Doing this all by herself. Needless to say, the service was emotional. She had wanted to "go home and be with Jesus" for at least the past few years, so everyone was glad that she was where she wanted to be and that she had passed away peacefully in her sleep.

Later that afternoon my friends and family had my first baby shower. It had been planned weeks before Grandma passed away, so it would have been difficult to change the date. Plus, having all the family up for the memorial allowed them the opportunity to attend the shower - otherwise they probably wouldn't have made the trip.

The shower was good. Nothing too crazy. But, let me tell you, this kid has more onesies than should be allowed. You've heard the phrase "you can never have too many onesies" - I challenge that statement. At last count between new and hand-me-downs, she Lady Bug has over 100 onesies (size nb-9 mos). It's really insane and slightly nauseating. Between those, baby blankets, and little dresses, she is set.

A sample of onesies:

My belly...looking HUGE:

The cake:

A Little Room of my Own

Last night we took a tour of the hospital where we'll be delivering. It's a smaller hospital, only 18 maternity rooms, but seemed to have a much better reputation as far as being "friendly." The other option would be downtown Seattle, where they deliver a million babies a day - which seemed like we would be just another number without a lot of personal attention. Plus this smaller hospital is only two miles from our house - even in thick traffic we could be there in 15 minutes. Trying to get downtown, although only eight miles, in traffic could take an hour. Having a baby in the parking lot or on the side of the freeway doesn't sound like fun to me.

The maternity wing of the hospital looks, from the outside, like an abandoned grade school. It's actually quite alarming. Do I really want to deliver a baby at a place with peeling paint and a big dilapidated totem pole standing guard out front? Luckily, they've completely remodeled the inside. Total night and day difference or else I would have turned heel and ran like the wind.

There was one other gal there for the tour. I immediately hated her. She was around 25 and at least 6' tall. Maybe 6'1 or 6'2. Blond Nordic goddess. By looking at her belly, I guessed she was about 6 months. Oh no. She's due a week before me. Whatev. She looked better in her jeans at 8 months than I do without packin' a baby. I tried to ignore her and make sure I walked in front so I didn't have to stare at her perky little bottom and long non-swollen legs and compare her confident stride to my pathetic waddle.

I was pretty surprised to see how small the rooms are - especially for giving birth and recovery. You do all that in here??!! I also got claustrophobic thinking of all my brothers, sisters, in-laws crowding in the little room to get a peek of the "freshie" (as my sister likes to call newborns). "Crowd control," I whispered to BigB, practically reeling from the idea of all my peeps staring at me after hours of labor. My skinny-yellow-haired tour buddy was busy figuring out how she'd be able to Sky.pe her big moment, I was busy figuring out how I could keep from hyperventilating.

Apparently there is one huge "suite" that is filled on a first-come-first-serve basis. I want that room. With it's huge windows and big jacuzzi tub. I told BigB that he was gonna have to sit outside the room for the entire two weeks before my due date so we could nab it.

This hospital doesn't have a nursery, and requires that if you take the baby out of your room, it has to stay in a rolling bassinet. "So what do you do if you want the baby to go somewhere else because it is screaming and you're exhausted and ready to have a nervous breakdown?" I ask innocently. The tour-leading nurse looked at me like I should be admitted right then and there. "Too bad, " she shrugged. "You'll be fine," she insisted. I guess a lot of hospitals have done away with the stereotypical "nursery" with the big windows where you can see all the babies. Now you hardly know there's anything going on because everyone, including the baby, is crammed into individual rooms.

Of course, drill Sargent-tour leading nurse described all the horrible things that could go wrong during a delivery but how they were "uniquely prepared to handle it." That made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I did brighten up with the snack room. All kinds of little treats for the mom and dad-to-be (no extended family, please!). Although I noticed a eminent lack of chocolate (we'll be bringing our own special snacks). We were also promised a "celebratory dinner" before leaving. Complete with steak! and chocolate-covered strawberries! and non-alcoholic sparkling cider!

It was a bit overwhelming. I'm glad we did it, but overwhelming nonetheless. To think The-Big-Day is 9 weeks away. Just crazy.

Bigger Doesn't Mean Better

Well, we did it. We traded my sporty little fast European car for a big ol' SUV made in the good ol' US of A. Used of course. But BIG nonetheless. And I'm talking HUGE. The kind of car (truck? rig?) that makes you wonder if you're actually spilling out of your lane into other lanes.

This comes as a bit of a surprise for us. We're definitely green-ish. Just last summer we were hell-bent on going hybrid and taking the bus as much as possible. This dream came to a pathetic halt a few weeks back when we stayed at a big house on one of the islands along with several other families. BigB saw how much crap they toted along in their SUVs to support their babies and tots and surmised that trying to fit two dogs and a baby + gear into one of our small "sedans" was a lesson in futility.

It just so happened that another one of our friends wanted to "downsize" as her kids are in high school and college, and she wasn't needing a vehicle with a third row of seats. We actually traded. Isn't that crazy!?! We didn't have to put our cars up for sale, didn't have to deal with strangers taking my car for a test drive. Didn't have to put up with used car salesmen. Etc. And, no car payment!

Yay! So, for the price of convenience, I am now the proud owner of one very large SUV and have thus become the epitome of the urban mom. I feel totally alien in it. I am waiting for the day when someone flips me off - most likely one of the million bicyclers in Seattle who commute via two-wheels. And I deserve it. I have no business sucking up gallons of gas just to get to work. Luckily, the windows are shaded and with my big sunglasses on, maybe they'll never I.D. me.

All said and done, I do have to admit that there is something just a teency bit thrilling about sitting up high enough to see into the cars all around you. Slightly voyeuristic. And there's something empowering about knowing you could practically drive right over those tiny smart.cars (although those things are super cool - especially when they park sideways). And, for whatever reason, the only music that seems appropriate to listen to while driving is country. Out goes NPR, in comes Carrie.Underwood.

Now I just have to decide what bumper sticker will make the look complete: "My dog is smarter than your kid"? Or, "Soccer Mom's Rule"? Or, "My other car is a Prius"?

Nothing Quite Like Family Guilt

Yesterday I wasn't feeling too hot. Several nights of zero sleep left me feeling foggy, nauseous, and achy. My older sister stopped by and within minutes was telling me all about a recent episode of Dr Phil that she had watched.

Apparently it was all about moms who go back to work after their baby is born so that they can support their 3,000 s.f. homes and brand new cars. My sister told me that I needed to stay home after little LadyBug is born and be with her. That nurturing my child was more important than anything else, and that I needed to do whatever it takes to stay home with her.

I was stunned. No one in my family has ever come out and chastised me for my decision to go back to work. I blubbered, "we don't have a choice! I have to work!" She retorted that there's always a choice. I told her we'd have to sell our house, and move into an apartment at least 30 miles away (apartments are super expensive in Seattle), and even then, we'd be lucky to pay all our bills each month.

She went on to say that she did it. She put her first baby in childcare, but when she had her second, she quit her job, stayed home, and opened a day care. "You just have to prioritize," she quipped.

Big Stream of Tears Ensued.

It's all so frustrating. BigB and I have worked our arses off to try and pay off our debt. We don't drive fancy cars, we live in a tiny home, we don't go on vacations, nor do we eat out more than a few times a month. On top of that, we have the whole overarching economy issue. Who knows if BigB will be out of a job in the next six months. It could totally happen. Now is not the greatest time for me to quit a steady job.

All that being said, I'm pretty sure I don't want to be a full-time SAHM. I can hardly stand being home all day when I'm sick. I have a sneaking suspicion that at the end of my maternity leave I'll be chomping at the bit to go back to work. I'm sure, too, that it'll be really tough to leave the little Bug and I'll be even more elated with every moment I'm able to spend with her. We're trying to be very creative with childcare solutions - working from home at least one day a week, having my mom watch her one day a week, etc, so we can maximize "us" time vs. "daycare" time.

I guess it's just frustrating to not have a choice, and then to be totally guilted by a member of your own family. I never thought I'd see it. I thought my family would know our situation enough to understand our decision. It makes me wonder what all my SAHM friends are thinking. My boss is thinking. Not to mention strangers. Not that I care (well...maybe a little bit).

Ugh. This dilemma is futile. I'm going to go eat something made entirely of chocolate and pretend life is a bowl of roses.