Dear Bob,

• Describe your feelings for your baby and what it's like to know he's growing inside you.
I'm sorry, kid, but it's really flippin' weird. You make me have to pee all the time, and you kick my insides, and my ass is getting big because of little ol' you. I love you, but I can't say that growing you is the world's most magical experience.

• Imagine a perfect day with your baby and what you'll do together.
On your 11th birthday your dad and I will take you to a Twins game, we'll eat some sunflower seeds, get an autographed baseball from whatever star player the Twins have in 2019, and then we'll go home. As we are relaxing on the deck, an owl flies up, drops a letter on your lap and we realize you've been admitted to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I celebrate because not only are you a wizard, but I also don't have to clean your smelly prepubescent boy clothes for nine months out of the year! Hooray!

(God, I'm a nerd.)

• Write down your hopes, dreams, and wishes for your baby.
Yale undergrad, Johns Hopkins medical school, discovers both the cure for cancer and a perfect remedy for cellulite.

• Think about what being a mother means to you and your definition of what makes a good mother.
Truthfully? I just hope I don't pass my passive-aggressive nature on to my kids. I think that would be the worst thing I could do to them. And guilt, while useful in some situations, shouldn't be used on your kids. However, bribery is a must.



Love,
Mom

Shut up, BabyCenter.

This Week's Activity:

Write a letter to your baby. You and your child will treasure this gift for years to come. Go with your heart and follow your inspiration. If you need help getting started:

• Describe your feelings for your baby and what it's like to know he's growing inside you.

• Imagine a perfect day with your baby and what you'll do together.

• Write down your hopes, dreams, and wishes for your baby.

• Think about what being a mother means to you and your definition of what makes a good mother.




I just don't think I'll ever be as goopy and saccharine as the world expects me to be.

He's just going to have to be okay with that.

The Birthin' Mix

I'm working on an iPod mix for when I go into the hospital. I thought it would be harder than it turned out to be - I already have 8 hours of music and I'm only through D in the iTunes library. Could have something to do with the seven Beatles albums I put on the list...

On one hand, I want to have a ton of music available just in case I'm one of the lucky women who is in labor for damn near forever. On the other hand, I don't want to create a self-fulfilling prophecy by making sure I have 20+ hours of musical enjoyment.

It's a toughie.

Twenty Two Weeks.

Um... I guess two weeks makes a difference, huh? Not only are my boobs taking over the world, but my ass is becoming something out of Sir Mixalot's dreams (I act like it wasn't already...) - and my belly is thisclose to being able to balance a cereal bowl on top of it.

Mmmmm... cereal.



I bitch, but I'm still amazed that there's something IN THERE. I've become obsessed with feeling him move, and I think the kid picks up on that because he just won't.... then I get good and panicked and he'll kick me in the gut. Shithead.

There's really nothing new going on. The first trimester is for worrying and being nauseated, the third trimester is for being huge and uncomfortable and ready to get this thing OUT (even though we know what that entails...) I think the second trimester is just a lot of sitting and waiting. It's a good thing I have projects.

Speaking of - I was super productive yesterday. I pieced together a quilt top for my new nephew (Due May 27! Yay!). It's a pretty bitchin' quilt, I must say. I think today will be spent ataching the batting and backing and quilting that mutha. If I feel extra ambitious I might bind it. If there's an America's Next Top Model marathon all this might just happen.

Advice from my French Press:

"Children and Hot Liquids Should Be Kept Apart"



Armed with this knowledge I see Mother of the Year in my future.

Ugh.

I'm really fucking melancholy and depressed.

I blame the hormones. It's like having PMS but a thousand times worse.

I'd love to spend most of my free time in the bathtub with a book and not speak to anyone, but apparently hot baths can essentially boil the baby (EW!). Plus, my skin gets really dry.

Android is watching Twin Peaks at the moment... I try to watch it, and when I do I totally get sucked in, but I'm not feeling the David Lynch-tasticness of the Peaks tonight.

I'm reading a book that I know I've read before, but I absolutely cannot remember it. I remeber being bored by it the first time, and now I kinda love it - I'm totally addicted. It's pretty fluffy, but fun. It's called The Other Side of the Story by Marian Keyes. I LOVE The Last Chance Saloon (love. Like, read twelve times love.) and I'm really adoring this one. She writes really lovely women characters who are just as neurotic and flawed as I am.


Mmm... I'm going to read my book in bed. Maybe I will perk up. And if I don't, at least I get to got to sleep soon.

21 weeks down.

The Webboy is thumping around in there quite regularly now. It no longer feels like butterflies, and therefore doesn't make me want to puke. Hooray!

21 weeks down.

I have a doc appointment on April 1 - I plan to ask her about pain relief during labor and delivery. I'm not entirely sure I want an epidural, but I don't know that a systematic drug like Demerol or whatever will take the edge off quite enough for this pansy-ass girl.

I'm not ashamed that I want drugs. I'm scared as hell and I'm not afraid to let people know that. And I swear on all that is good and kind, if one more person tells me that childbirth is a beautiful thing, I will scream.

It is NOT beautiful. It is horrible and sweaty and bloody and painful and THAT'S OKAY. I know that in the end I'll have this long-awaited and very much loved child. But I don't see anything wrong in asking to be high as a damn kite while I wait.

So, yeah. Gonna talk to the doc - see what she thinks, talk to her about writing up a birth plan since odds are she won't be the one catching the little tyke.


What else? I'm getting bigger by the second, it seems. I kinda like my belly. I can't wait til I can try to balance a cereal bowl on top of it.

The nursery is at a bit of a standstill. That room has been a giant closet for the last six months or so, and it's kind of hard not to just chuck my clothes in the crib like it's a giant hamper. Maybe when there's a person in there I won't do that anymore, but there are no guarantees.



Ooh! There was some frightening talk by Android and my sister about trying to buy a house late this summer. I went along with it for unknown reasons, but it seems Android has realized it's a craptastic idea. I understand it's a buyers market, but I HAVE A LOT OF SHIT GOING ON RIGHT NOW. Knowing that we'll be in our apartment for another year calms me. Sure we have hookers on the corner, and crazy loud neighbors, and drafty windows, but we also have a lot of crap that has accumulated and I just have no interest in moving it again.


More than anything I would like a rum drink of some kind. Something with lime or pineapple or mango... maybe with a little paper umbrella in it. Truth be told, what I really want is to go out to a bar with some friends and get hammered. Maybe not to the point of puking - but a good buzz and a late night trip to White Castle for fries sounds brilliant.


Sigh. This kid better be awesome.

Dude. Not cool.

This afternoon one of my customers noticed I was gimping a little bit (my left hip has been kinda wonky off and on lately). She assumed I was doing the pregnant waddle and launched into a conversation about pregnancy (apparently she's 32 weeks). She asked how far along I am and I told her five months. She looked down at my belly, looked at me and said "Really? You're BIG for five months!".

Oh, for fuck's sake.

I swear if she wasn't pregnant I would have vaulted over the counter and strangled her. Isn't there some kind of pregnant woman bylaw that says you are not supposed to comment on another woman's baby belly?

If not, there should be. That's just wrong.

I fully admit that I had a belly to begin with, but come on! So, yeah. I spent the rest of the day sucking in my gut.

You know you're pregnant when...

...you throw a granola bar, an apple and half a sleeve of Thin Mints in your purse because you might get hungry during the hour and a half drive to Rochester.

To my credit, the granola bar is still in my purse. The Thin Mints didn't have a chance.



Another fun development: I can no longer sleep on my belly. I am not supposed to sleep on my back. This leaves two options: my left side and my right side. Apparently I'm too stupid to figure out how to sleep without sleeping on my arms, so I woke up twice last night with numb hands. Awesome.





I went to a friend's baby shower this weekend, and I'll admit it got me jonesing for one of my own. My very brave friend (going on 33 weeks along and still cool as a cucumber) glowed in her cute boots and new haircut and made me wanna be like her.

I'm so NOT glowing in this picture. I look a bit lumpy, but my new glasses are still cute. Whew.

Halfway there.

Twenty weeks. Twenty weeks? I've known about this kid for 15 weeks and it still baffles me. Now I only have twenty weeks to get ready for a little person who won't be able to FUNCTION without me!




On a belly pic note, the computer is now in the dining room (that we never used). On the right is the beautiful kegerator. I tried to dress it up with many many magnets, but it still looks like a big white cube. It makes the Android deliriously happy, so I go along with it.

Boobs, glorious boobs.

My boobles are growing exponentially now. It baffles me that I have five more months to go. My tits will eventually take over the world, mark my words.


Or maybe not. I'm awfully tired.

The Webbean showed the goods.

I had some adventures in Ultrasound-ing this morning. They (cruel bastards) request that you drink 16oz of water 45 minutes before your Ultrasound. The catch? You can't pee. That is a MEAN trick to play on a pregnant woman who has to piss like a damn racehorse every 15 minutes.

It backfired, though. I got into the exam room, and the first thing the tech sees on the screen is my enormous bladder. "How much did you drink?" I assured her that I only had maybe 20oz (though I forgot to mention the bowl of cereal I had for breakfast. She made me go empty my bladder "Until I was comfortable".

I came back and she said "Did you let anything out at all?" Apparently my bladder was still full.

Ultrasound techs are freaking amazing. She's bopping around my abdomen saying "That black spot? That's the stomach? And there are the kidneys..." The kidneys to the untrained eye are a a very slightly darker shade of grey on a grey canvas, but she was seeing them clear as day. I was just happy when I identified the spine.

Then she made me go pee AGAIN, and this time it all came out. This turned out to be a good thing, because it made the baby stretch out and relax a little. Apparently Mommy's bladder was cramping his style.

So, the kid has four chambers in his heart, and a kind of big head.




And yeah, I said "his". There was a winkie. I have a teeny penis growing inside me right now.





A boy. A BOY? I don't know what to do with a boy! I'm terrified of boys! They're little aliens who like bugs and slimy things and they SMELL!



I think I have to take some time to adjust.


Don't get me wrong, I'm excited that the baby is healthy and growing well and all that... but... a BOY?