My Eggs and Ham

If You Like It Then You Should Have Put A Label On It.

2012-01-20T08:09:00.000-08:00

I need labels with A's name. Both to stick on things, and to sew into things. Any suggestions on where to order them?

I should have known though - Jack would suggest his precious label maker as THE solution. He's in love with it. Perhaps obsessed is the better word. I swear one day I'll wake up with a label "wife" on my forehead. The phone are all labelled with their location, so if you are wandering around with the phone you know where to bring it back to! Duh, doesn't everyone do that? The entire house is labelled. He's positively itching to label the spices. WHY? They....wait for it...already HAVE labels on them.

He must have run out of things to label - I found this on the BACK of the label maker. See what I'm dealing with here?

Good Gawd. September?

2012-01-10T11:58:00.000-08:00

::blows dust off blog::

WTF? Last post was September?

What can I say. It's been hectic around here. But I have a good excuse. We sold our house out from under ourselves. Listed it in September thinking it would take a few months. Um, nope. It sold in a week. Possession December 18th. And we did not buy a new house until December 3rd. Crazy, I know.

It wasn't quite built, so we moved in our stuff (December 17th) then took off for Christmas vacation down east. We're back, they are almost finished (it's livable) and slowly, sorting out life.

Jack is in heaven. There's a lot to do around here, he's got a garage full of tools and thinks he's Mike Holmes. He likes to stand around with the trades that come and go shooting the shit about exciting things like wiring and drywall. I've pointed out they probably want to get on with it and get going, but he insists on chatting it up like they are standing around a bar. More on Jack and the tools later.

Anderson is nearly 16 months old. Right? I know. Here's the little man:

Toilet Paper Smack Down. It's On.

2011-09-23T10:01:00.000-07:00

There's a war brewing here. And battle lines are drawn.

Let me first pose a question to you:

Do you feel you are the only person in your house who is apparently capable of changing a toilet paper roll?

Just me?

I CANNOT express my frustration at sitting on the toilet, only to realize too late that the roll is empty, or near empty. I insist on keeping a couple (just a couple) of rolls in the bathroom within reaching distance to try and avoid this problem.

So yesterday morning I sit down. No paper on the roll. Look to my right. No extras next to the toilet. A-G-A-I-N.

(Have you ever felt like pitching a fit whilst sitting on the toilet? It's a funny feeling). I yell out to Jack:

JACK! WHY IS THERE NO TOILET PAPER AGAIN!?

He brings me a roll, I give him the evil eye. And you know what he says to me?

Sorry. You know I mostly just the wipes on my bum exclusively, so sometimes I don't pay much attention to the toilet paper.

Whiskey.Tango.Foxtrot. I'll remember that the next time I notice that your precious wipes are running low. Because, you know, I mostly use toilet paper on my bum exclusively.

And so look what I came home to. Riiight. It's on.

Tales of the Missing Foreskin.

2011-09-19T07:14:00.000-07:00

We had a sleepover on Saturday night. Some friends with a 23 month old were super stuck for a sitter. So, over came Callum.

It went much better than I had anticipated. It gave me a (very unrealistic I am sure) view of 2 under 2. Mind you, no one really screamed, cried, refused to eat, or had trouble sleeping. So it was likely the sanitized view of what I can imagine the reality of 2 under 2 (or more) could be . Sort of like a commercial, where they use the super skinny, beautiful 18 year old to sell you a face cream that may not in fact, make you look like a super skinny, beautiful 18 year old.

Jack provided the highlight of the sleepover. He was changing Callum for the first time, when suddenly I hear:

Jack: Um, his foreskin is pulled back!!!

Me: What?

Jack: It's pulled back.

:: I go to look::

Me: Um, it's because he doesn't have one. Clearly you haven't seen many circumcised penises babe?

Jack: Oh. Sigh. I know you'll put this on the blog. And now perfect strangers will know something about MY penis.

Me: Yup. And, yup.

How much do you want to have a baby?

2011-09-15T08:20:00.000-07:00

I generally try to keep my well informed (yes, well informed) opinions to myself when it comes to trying to conceive, unless I am directly asked for advice. But this sort of shit annoys the daylights out of me. At recent cocktail party:

Friend: It's been 5 months, so I think I'll go to the doctor.

Me: They say it can take a healthy couple with no known fertility issues up to a year to conceive. Maybe you could try charting, or OPKs to figure out when you ovulate.

Friend: That all just sounds like too much work.

Me (in my head): How much do you want to have a baby? Get off your fucking ass and figure out when you ovulate. Educate yourself, dumbass, before you go running to a doctor. And - if charting or peeing on a freaking stick sounds like work - how much work do you think looking after a BABY is?

Me (outside voice): Well, I guess you have to do whatever works for you.

Why do I not leap up on my soapbox on such occasions and impart the valuable wisdom I have from a long journey to conception?

Because I have learned in life, a) people don't want advice unless they are ready to hear it and b) people are going to do what they want anyway and....

c) the more you press the point, the more likely they are to turn up knocked up the very next month, allowing for the

"See? Didn't need to do all that work after all"

Which in turn makes you want to give them a sound smack.

Shame really. I'm sure some of you have felt this too. While knowledge is said to be power, sometimes well, too much can be a bad thing.

Back on the Horse.

2011-09-13T09:17:00.000-07:00

I think we're about ready to see if #2 kiddo is a possibility. Jack's been ready for a while I think.

I, on the other hand, have not been. Do I want another little one? Of course. Do I want to go through all of the trials and tribulations that will be involved with getting there? Not really.

I had a great pregnancy with A. For that, I am very thankful. I enjoyed being pregnant for the most part, and of course - the outcome was beyond amazing. But I can't be the only one that's heaved a small sigh at the "process" of doing it all again. Not just the pregnancy part. Not just "will we actually be able to get pregnant" but rolling those darn dice again.We got so lucky the first time (after all those fertility treatments and that miscarriage in the middle). It feels like tempting fate, you know?

That's life though. So...as I am so fond of saying: Onwards.

Anderson.Cooper. Worked like a charm.

2011-09-09T07:45:00.000-07:00

I am sometimes asked if we named Anderson after Anderson Cooper. I like Anderson Cooper fair enough, but certainly not enough to name a child in honor of him. Never occured to me. So I have a new line. Tried it out yesterday, works like a charm.

Person: Did you name him after Anderson Cooper?

Me: No. But if we have another child, we are for sure naming he
or she Cooper. ::completely straight face:

Person: ::doesn't know what to say::

7 years. No itch. No lids, but no itch.

2011-09-06T14:16:00.000-07:00

We celebrated 7 years of marriage on the weekend. I can't believe it's been that long. No itch over here, everything is truly great. I don't mean to sound like one of "those people" with the perfect marriage but um, in fact it's darn close.

That is not to say we don't each have "quirks" that drive the other crazy.

Jack's inability to move quickly at any time except when jogging (he'd stroll away from an explosion) drives me a bit batty. I am also convinced his brain can see into mine, analyze the route to a destination I think we should be taking, and then program his brain to seek a completely different direction. The ongoing struggle about throwing.things.out. never really goes away (Remember "Good Junk and my Slowly Departing Sanity"?) His fussiness about certain foods can also be a bit much - goat cheese can't be hot, does not care for salad dressing, will not eat dried rosemary, turns up nose at tinned tuna, doesn't like mayo - but whatever.

If I asked him (and no, I will not) I'd guess that my nickname of "lidless" might sum up his puzzlement at my seeming inability to completely screw on a lid. This in particular is a battle of wills. He tightens them up like he's storing the world's last dose of Tamiflu during a global epidemic.

I in turn, well I put the lid on things. Sorta.

I chew stir sticks while I work. Lots. In my office, it can look like a troop of mini beavers were busy mowing down a forest of mini trees. Oh well. Helps me think.

He's not a fan of my driving (which is fine, thankyouverymuch). I dare say he could do without ABBA blaring sometimes.

But on the whole, we are able to laugh and (and more importantly, embrace) our differences and quirks.

I love him more now then I did on that day 7 years ago, if that's even possible. My fabulous Jack who persevered. Who asked for my number and was treated to "I am not looking for a relationship. Not in the least".

Good thing he's persistent.

Here's The Little Man (10 Months).

2011-09-02T07:14:00.000-07:00

Perhaps I don't show him off enough. Here's the little man himself. Intently focused on a carrot at a restaurant.

Oh, he loves to eat. He has never turned down a single thing we've put in front of him. Fish, meat, chicken, beans, fruit, veg, spices - you name it. For breakfast this morning he had an egg, a piece of ham, a piece of toast and a full peach. Seriously. Here we were thinking college tuition would be hard on the wallet. Clearly groceries for this fellow as a teenager might be a concern too :)

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Rant: Why I Don't Shop at Crate and Barrel.

2011-09-01T10:53:00.000-07:00

The Crate and Barrel flyer came today. And it reminds me again of why I won't be putting a foot in that place. Ever.

Last year when I was 33 weeks-ish pregnant I was at the mall. Had a couple of bags, one last stop at Crate and Barrel. Saw a big salad bowl I really wanted, and a few other things. Given they don't have carts of any type, I needed two hands. Asked one of the clerks if I could put my other bags behind the counter for a half a minute while I grabbed some items.

Sorry, no. It is against store policy to store customer's bags.

Excuse me? Clearly I am super f-ing KU'd. And, even if you must adher to this policy, the alternative answer should have been:

Sorry, no. It's against store policy to stores customer's bags. However, I would be happy to come with you and carry all of your items back to the counter.

Ever have that moment when blood rushes into your ears? When the world around you shrinks to a moment of sheer and utter rage? Yup. At 33 weeks, on sore feet dragging bags and an enormous bump, I had that moment.

Part of me wanted to scream. But instead, I said:

Kindly have a manager meet me at the counter. I went - with my bags - and got the enormous salad bowl and other items I was going to purchase. And at the counter was a fairly scared looking manager. I laid it all on the counter and said:

I am very disheartened by your store policy, and that employee of yours over there (point). I understand rules, but then again, common sense and a bit of brains are also useful. She does not possess either, sadly. So here are the things I was going to purchase, but won't be. And won't be putting my foot in here again. Perhaps some staff training is in order? Or perhaps hire some brighter bulbs.

And with that, off I went. Crate and Barrel won't ever see a dime of mine. Childish? Maybe. Satisfying? Very.

I can admit it. Go on, you can too.

2011-08-30T15:50:00.000-07:00

I was reading a blog earlier today that was imploring women to feel more comfortable in saying that parenthood isn't a complete bed of roses. To be - brave enough? - to admit that it is hard. And that children - in particular newborns and toddlers - are lots of work.

Apparently people don't want to admit this? Because they feel they will be judged as not loving their child as much? Somehow less of a parent than the others who put the brave face on and lie (yes, they are lying) about how freaking rewarding it is every nanosecond ?

Really? People are afraid to admit that? Who, pray tell, gets to decide how much you love your kid?

Well then. I do believe I've told everyone that came within earshot that parenthood is NOT a bed of roses. There were a few middle of the night musings about how, say, a sailboat may have been a better, and more rewarding, investment. And rest assured: We love our little man to pieces. And then some.

He was an "easy" baby, we were so lucky there. But I'll be the first to admit that the newborn stage sucked. Anyone who tells you that the bliss completely outweighs the challenges is either a) lying or b) smoking something. Or perhaps c) Lying after smoking something. There's really not much magical reward in those first few weeks. It's feed, change, jiggle, juggle, rinse and repeat. All day, all night.

Then you get that first smile, and so on. And some days are hard, some days are easy. But you still have this amazing, fabulous, miraculous kid.

There's no harm in admiting you are human. And just like anything else in life, sometimes it's a bed of roses, sometimes it's a bed of manure. I can admit that. I hope most people feel "brave" enough to do that too.

Cat. CrossFit. The Cult.

2011-08-24T13:53:00.000-07:00

My weakness for wine, cheese, baguettes, gravy and french fries is strong.

Stronger than the bra required to hold up Pamela Anderson's stapled on rack. Stronger than the scent of tackiness wafting from Heidi Montag. Stronger than the desire of Joan Rivers to keep her face up around where her forehead should be.

However. My dislike of many recent pictures of myself is strong too. Therefore, for about a month now, I have immersed myself in the special hell that is CrossFit.

Familiar with it? Google it. It is the training program of some of the American military special operations units and lots of police forces. In essence, it is a workout designed to make you cry - if there is any liquid left in your body - while you are lying on the mat gasping for breath like a goldfish long departed from it's bowl. It is known as a bit of a cult because of how diehard Crossfitters can be about it.

CrossFitters like to say things like this:

And this:

But a funny thing happens as you limp out of the box (they call it "The Box". Calling it a gym is so done). You start to think, hey. I surviving that punishing (and they are PUNISHING) workout. And then you think...I can't wait for the next one.

And then you know you are part of the cult. Or at least on your way. We shall see. My goal is to benchpress Jack. (I'm an overachiever. But you knew that).

Vacation.The Dog. Jack. I'm Back.

2011-08-18T12:34:00.000-07:00

Side note: Blah blah I've been gone a while. I could do a big ol' post dedicated to ' "Gosh darn sorry I've been away I've been so busy blah blah" but given the date on the last post, I imagine you've figured that out. So I'm just getting right back at it.
______________________

An incredible thing happened this summer. We took 2.5 weeks of vacation. A miracle in itself. Took a lot of planning and effort, but we did indeed fly across the country with a greased up monkey on a 9 hour flight. (The monkey was disguised as a 10.5 month old human).

In any event.

That means something had to be done about the dog. Jack loves the dog. I love the dog too - but Jack loves him on a whole other level. So there was much hand wringing over the fact that the dog would have to go to the kennel for 2.5 weeks. In my opinion, the dog would have been over the moon about this. Given a) lots of other dogs to play with b) a huge field and c) no small human to deal with who came here 10.5 months ago and pushed him down the pecking order.

In the end, the dog went to the kennel for a week, and then was picked up by friends for the rest of the time. Jack was delighted. I was too - but more so to be saving $40 a day on kennel fees.

And herein lies the abbreviated version of 24 hours of text and hand wringing (Not by me. As if you needed that pointed out).

Christina picked up the dog from from the kennel. Jack of course texts her - how is he?

She says: Fine, but he pooped and it was small pebbles and rock solid.

::Cue Jack worry::

Me: It's likely the change in food/water from being at the kennel for a week.

::ignored by husband::

Jack to Christina: Take him to the vet. Spare no expense.

::Dog goes to vet after hours emergency - $$$$$::

Christina to Jack: Vet says it's likely the change in food/water from being at the kennel for a week.

Me to Jack: OMG. Why didn't we think of that.

::ignored by husband::

Dear Blog Readers.

2011-03-29T13:49:00.000-07:00

It has come to my attention that I have not been shown off enough around here. Et voila. Here I am last week in my monkey butt pants.

xx
A

Poo Stains.

2011-03-28T14:42:00.000-07:00

I had to go to a big gala this weekend. I decided a spray tan was in order because, well you know, I am as pale as the arse of a 100 year old woman who sits in a rocker all day under an afghan (quilt, not dog).

But here is where the trouble began. Last week I accidentally went to the gym in a nursing bra. Ended up with two big ol' rub marks between my hefty breastfeeding boobs. Oh well, what can you do.

I didn't even think of what the spray tan would do to those lovely marks. What it DID do....was make them look exactly like two large, dark poo stains in between my boobs. This did not go well with a deep neckline dress.

So. I had to put foundation on my spray tanned poop stains. Which helped a bit. Given my gigantic boobs enter the room about 10 seconds before I do - I hope no one was looking too closely.

You totally thought this was going to be a post about a baby poo didn't ya?

Starting Solids.

2011-03-23T09:13:00.000-07:00

Can't hang around and talk, I'm busy trying to find the baby underneath the avocado.

We've started down the path of "Baby Led Weaning" which if you google, you'll discover basically means giving a baby hunks of food for them to explore/put in their mouths themselves. No puree, no spoons.

Jury is still out. I might be out buying baby spoons by the end of the week.

I'll be back with updates and pictures.

The Down Side of the Downward Dog.

2011-03-03T09:25:00.000-08:00

I shouldn't let my mind wander.

This morning I was at the gym, huge run and workout. Feeling good about myself. Pat on back.

As I was stretching, I went from a downward dog to a child's pose. So, forehead down on the mat. (Nice contemplative pose, I encourage you to try it). Anyway as I was there, it occurred to me how many SWEATY ASSES are on that mat every day. You know, those people who fling themselves down on the mat and leave a wet spot afterwards? Sure they might dry it but still. All they do is wipe it with their SWEATY TOWEL. And now my face was on the SWEATY ASS mat.

I should have quit while my mind was still wandering to what to have for dinner.

Love means two.

2011-03-01T09:09:00.000-08:00

Surely you know by now that Jack and I are two different people. If opposites attract has any truth to it, we fit the bill. We don't agree on very much, yet are are very agreeable with each other. Mutual respect and all of that jazz.

But let me let you in on a little secret. We have two of lots of stuff. Helpful in keeping that zen-ness around here. We have two different pepper grinders. Two different can openers. Two different wine openers. Two different pans we like to cook in. Two different approaches to folding socks (I'll dedicate a whole post to Jack and his sock mania).

Two different tubes of toothpaste. I could care less if it gets squeezed from the bottom. I squeeze from wherever I put my damn finger on it, thankyouverymuch. Jack, on the other hand, executes military precision in getting out the last tiny bit. Whatever.

I think he is overly anal. He thinks I am too quick on the draw and actually more anal than he is when it comes to some stuff. But somehow, we find a middle ground. We laugh at the differences and poke fun at each other. Lots.

If you're dedicated to staying in a marriage for, oh, 50 years plus (hopefully) - I figure two can openers is a small investment to keep things zen-y. Know what I mean?

Gym. Fail.

2011-02-23T12:25:00.000-08:00

I've been back to the gym. Mostly when the nanny is here or Jack is around, but now and then I put him in the daycare there.

Today I ventured out in -23 degrees. Patted self on back. Drove around and around, no parking because of big event.Walked all the way from the back of the parking lot (lugging baby in bucket) in that temperature. Still optimistic.

Got to the gym daycare only to realize I have a) no diaper bag and b) no blackberry for them to call me on if there is a problem. Optimism still in place but fading.

Decide to go for 30 minute run seeing I am there. Get to the gym and realize water and earphones in the car. Final straw. Consider just sitting in the cafe and reading paper. Just do sit ups instead for 20 minutes. Truth be told, simply lie on mat for half of it. Optimism: hanging on by thread.

Home again, drop blanket and sunglasses in puddle of mud by garage. Optimism gone.

Too early for wine?

Happy Birthday to me (yesterday).

2011-02-04T10:28:00.000-08:00

I've never really been into birthdays, and the older I freaking get the less interested I am. I told Jack we reallky didn't need to celebrate yesterday, and despite some of my friends bugging him about doing something, he listened to me and didn't let them plan anything :)

However, he did surprise me and take the day off work, took me to a gorgeous new spa for a facial, then to lunch at the new hotspot, and gave me this fabulous Pandora piece:

Thanks Jack. You are fabulous.

Meatballs. Keeping it Klassy.

2011-01-31T14:29:00.000-08:00

My plan for dinner last night was a standing rib roast, mashed potatoes, yorkshire pudding, peppercorn gravy and a bottle of Malbec.

Please note the word plan.

At 6pm I was standing in front of the freezer wondering what would go with a green salad. The afternoon got away from me (sitting on the couch all day does that. I NEVER do that. Was kinda fun). Anyway I unearthed a package of Ikea meatballs. Seriously WHEN did I buy those? Ikea has a way of making you leave with stuff you never went for in the first place.

I figured those things were laced with more preservatives than Pamela Anderson's face. Imagine my surprise to read the ingredients and find out they were actually made only of things I could pronounce. So, green salad and meatballs for dinner it was. Oh and with a glass of the Malbec to - you know - klass it up a bit. They weren't half bad. Long live the meatball.

Okay You Cloth Diaper Obsessed People.

2011-01-28T10:10:00.000-08:00

First off, I'm cool with disposables. So this is more of a fishing expedition than anything. But if you are a cloth-y tell me what you use? I'm giving some consideration to using them overnight. Just consideration. But interested in what you have to say.

What annoys me sometimes.

2011-01-27T08:58:00.000-08:00

As laid back as I think I am, some things annoy me. With some things - I am intolerant. I bite my tongue sometimes so much I am suprised it's not severed down the middle.

But I really and truely roll my eyes at people who go on about their pregnancy like they are the only person to gain weight. The only person to have trouble pooping. The only person to crave things. The only person to have to wait for an ultrasound.

Newsflash: Women have been giving birth for eons. It always takes 9 months to cook a fetus. People often feel ill. Putting on weight is a given. In short....your entire body is being taken over by an alien creature. What were you expecting?

And I won't even get started on the idiots that like to rant on about how THEY KNOW how best to raise children (despite not having any yet) etc.

Getthefuckoveryourself. You have been pregnant for 15 minutes. Feel free to get on your high horse after you've had a kid or two. Until then....shut up.

Hear that?

2011-01-26T17:53:00.000-08:00

That's the sound of not cooking for a group every night.

It's also the sound of our power bill going down.

In addition to the sound of an empty guest room.

That's right, we've had company since JULY 10th. OF LAST YEAR. No that's not a typo. When you birth the first of what may be the only grandchild(ren), and family in general are dying to get their hands on baby, makes for a busy schedule. They all live on the other side of the country. (Yes my American friends, we all don't live in the same igloo).

They were all delightful (really) but I'm off to lie on the guestroom bed and enjoy the (lack of) guests.

I'd get Jack to take a picture of me enjoying the silence but,you know, it would just be 301 of the 301 farking pictures I'd never get it to show you anyway. Thought this post would shame him into remedying the situation.

No such luck. Or at least not yet. You reading this honey?

What is the point.

2011-01-24T07:52:00.000-08:00

Jack HAD TO HAVE a new camera when A showed up. Fair enough, I think many new parents go through that. So, a Canon Rebel T2i made it's appearance. I had high hopes of magazine-like photos of our darling new son.

However. Jack seems to have neglected to tell me he would only be taking the pictures. Not... you know....sharing them in any way. There are probably about 300 snaps on there and I haven't seen one. All of the pics of A that get sent to friends and family are all the ones taken with my Blackberry.

So.

He's got the new camera, a new copy of Photoshop (still in the wrapper) and I am still sending my mother in law pictures taken on a cell phone.

Not just for Fido.

2011-01-22T09:32:00.000-08:00

Anderson has a few outfits that were just crying out for a belt. But I could not find one for his wee little waist.

That was, until I was at the pet store the other day and spied the little leather dog collars. Perfection.

So, voila. Anderson in a Tommy Hilfiger outfit complete with Converse sneakers.....and a 19 inch leather dog collar which works perfectly as a belt.

Jack's not the only person around here who knows how to re-purpose stuff.

A Humiliation From Which...

2011-01-16T09:35:00.000-08:00

He may never recover.

The Christmas lights just came down. Today. This is not in keeping with the tight schedule usually kept by you-know-who. One of the neighbours came by for a visit last night and commented on it. (Never mind not a single one of them put up any lights. But I digress).

Jack was up at the crack of dawn taking down his lights (which were put up with military precision in the first place, let me tell you).

He may never recover.

Fighting the good fight.

2011-01-11T10:13:00.000-08:00

I can hardly believe I am still breastfeeding. It's been a huge battle and sometimes I felt like a UFC fighter - I just need to get on top of that sucker and punch the daylights out of it to stay ahead.

So, for that fight I still take Motilium (12 pills a day), Fenugreek (6 pills a day) Blessed Thistle (12 pills a day), eat oatmeal, and pump the daylights out of my boobs all day. That farking pump and I. I might have to make like Tom Hanks and his soccer ball - and give it a "Wilson" like name. I spend more time with it than I do with Jack sometimes I swear to you.

I see the end coming. My supply is very low and we just make it. As he grows and needs more I am not sure my supply is growing with him.

But so be it. It's not over yet - but when it does end I'll have no regrets. I think I fought the good fight.

I've been slinking around, I admit it....

2010-12-29T10:13:00.000-08:00

You know how you walk past that pile of ironing or cleaning or whatever you've been avoiding, and it makes you feel guilty? That's me with you guys. Every time I look at the computer I feel like I am slinking around it, avoiding the fact I've been a bad blogger. Forgive me...my parents are visiting, work/baby/entertaining etc has been keeping me crazy busy.

I have SO much to tell you! Nothing earth shattering. But Jack of course has been up to his usual tricks. Wait until I tell you about him and that (real) Christmas tree. Sigh. I love him so.

In the meantime, Santa's little helper!

Hanging in my hoodie.

2010-12-13T14:20:00.000-08:00

Here I am! Growing like a weed. Had my 2 month shots a few days, went okay. Now I am just hanging in my hoodie.

Jack and the sewing machine.

2010-12-02T10:25:00.000-08:00

HANDS FREE PUMPING!

Jack took one of my sports bras and turned it into a pump bra. Heaven! We were quite the sight, me in the bra and him drawing marks on it where my nipples are. And they say romance is dead.

In true Jack style, he was afraid if he simply cut the holes they would start to tear eventually. So he got out his sewing machine et voila! Reinforced pump holes. Two of them.

What kind of a stitch is that? Nah. Just kidding. I don't care enough about sewing to be interested. But gotta love a man with a plan -

and a sewing machine.

Pictures with Santa. Why.

2010-11-29T09:17:00.000-08:00

I was at the mall yesterday and I started thinking about this.

I don't get it. I don't get lining up forever while trying to placate a child who doesn't want to be in that line, waiting to get the requisite picture of the kid - who may or may not be freaking out when she they see him and you get a picture of a crying/freaked out child. After all of that - you are now the proud owner of the exact picture/pose as thousands of other people in town.

And I won't get started on the germs. I'm not a germophile but come on - how much drool do you think Santa has on him?! Or pee for that matter. Or whatever else.

I figure I can take some nice xmas pics at home in front of the tree, or whatever else that can serve as a yearly tradition.

Perhaps I am missing something.

That's my deep thought of the day.

Always Looking Out For You.

2010-11-24T12:13:00.000-08:00

Remember my trail mix tip from October? I have yet another tip for you.

If you eat a chocolate covered health bar with one hand while breastfeeding, be sure and look in the mirror. In case there might be chocolate all over the tip of you nose.

Because if there is an enormous spot of chocolate smack in the middle of your face, you will likely only notice it much later . Only after you have left the house to go to an appointment with your child.. After you've dealt face to face with about 10 people.

This totally will detract from the "pulled together mommy" vibe you were sure you were sporting AM - all relaxed, stylish, and pulled together.

As always, just looking out for you.

Nope. Not Dead.

2010-11-22T11:25:00.000-08:00

Geez you guys it's been a bit. I am busy restraining myself from cutting off my right boob.

The Mastitis didn't really go away. The antibiotics gave me a yeast infection in said boob, and poor A has Thrush we think because of that. The antibiotics gave me a rash head to toe. I spend most of the time trying to restrain myself from itching.

See? Not a whole lot to update except the fact the Breech Ball is doing GREAT! Growing like a weed. Those first few weeks are a bit of a drag if I was honest. I love him to bits but it's kinda rinse and repeat ya know? The day he smiled for the first time was a rewarding day. You mommys out there know what I mean.

Speaking of smiles, well here's more of a baby smirk from a photo shoot a week or so back! I'll post a few more soon.

Speaking of back: I'll be back around more frequently, promise. Jack has been busy. I have much to tell.

Mastitis update.

2010-11-14T14:46:00.000-08:00

Good news, it seems to have mostly gone away finally, after lots of drugs, massage, pumping and breastfeeding.

Bad news, the antibiotics gave me a rash all over my arms and legs. It's tres attractive.

This kid's first art project had better be a "Mommy of the Year" award for this dedication to breastfeeding. I swear to GOD.

A Whole New Opportunity.

2010-11-11T08:08:00.000-08:00

Remember this post? Good Junk and My Slowing Departing Sanity.

I fear, gentle readers. I fear because one of the breast pump bottles developed a small crack today so I tossed it. And it was fished out of the recycling and kept because "you never know" what second life it could have as something else. I fear this is a sign. A sign that a whole new category of good junk ("baby stuff junk") is about to enter the battle.

I'll let you know.

Shiver.

PS: Speaking of battles, the Mastitis battle continues.

Blah. Mastitis.

2010-11-07T11:15:00.000-08:00

Took me a couple of days and some advice from friends, but I finally put together that the fever, sore muscles, sore breast and generally feeling horrid was probably Mastitis.

I do indeed also a big red sore mass on my right breast. Fabulous. Oh and breast feeding feels like he is chewing on glass.

Ugh Ugh Ugh.

We spent last night at the urgent care centre, all to get a prescription for antibiotics. What a mess our health care system is in - 5.5 hour wait to see a doctor for 30 seconds. Jack finally ran home to get my pump. I looked fabulous, hospital gown covered in wet spots from me leaking all over the place. Lactation is a SEXY business non?

We left A at home with Jack's visiting parents.Urgent care centre on a Saturday night was, as suspected, filled with crazies and belligerent drunks. And a wide assortment of people dying a slow death from waiting for, oh probably days. One old guy looked DUSTY even I swear to you. Maybe he had been there a month. Not a place for a 5 week old baby.

Anyway. I am hopefully well on my way to getting this resolved. Some hot compresses, massage, antibiotics and lots of breastfeeding to clear the duct ought to do the trick! Fingers crossed.

Sometimes "I love you" comes in simple words...

2010-11-05T09:04:00.001-07:00

Or no words at all.

Last night at dinner Jack asked me if I like the new toothpaste he bought. (I swear to you: We usually have FAR more interesting conversations). I do not like it, no. What the hell is up with orange flavored toothpaste? And while I am at it...vanilla? NOT toothpaste flavors in my opinion. Wrong.

Anyhoo, when I got up this morning there, next to the orange crap, was my usual stuff. He must have ran out when A and I were napping.

See? It's I love you. No words at all.

BUT we might get a FINE!

2010-11-01T07:31:00.000-07:00

Oh Jack. How he loves, ADORES the rules. And he gets a bit anxious when he isn't right in line with following them. I give you exhibit A: Remember the great street cleaning caper of May?

A Wee Spot of Tarnish on the Halo

Today he found out there is a city bylaw that states that every house must have a house number on the back alley fence and/or garage. Given I can remember seeing no alley numbes on any houses around here, I guess that bylaw isn't particularly enforced. Here's what I think as a tax payer: Dear city: Go find the thieves, murderers and drug dealers. Let's not waste money on officers creeping around the alleys right?

However. Jack COULD NOT REST once he found himself in contempt of the law.

This.will.not.do.at.all

And so.

We are now (an hour after he found out) the only people as far as I can see that are in compliance of this IMPORTANT BYLAW. Shiny new numbers.

Whew. And here I thought we'd be hauled away in handcuffs.

I am totally contemplating taking them down just to mess with him.

Foto Friday

2010-10-29T11:45:00.000-07:00

Speaking of photos, we have a photographer coming to do some shots of the three of us in about an hour. We are, at this very moment, hoping that the indents Anderson's socks left on his legs are gone by the time she gets here, so he looks "plump" and "indent free" as requested. Incidentally, I hope I look "indent free" myself. Mostly around the eye area. Oh and given I just got back from the lactation MD and he's put on 1.5 lbs in two weeks, I think he's got a good change of looking plump for his photo session. More on the breastfeeding chronicles later.

1 month old!

Your welcome. Alot welcome. (ranting about some of my pet peeves).

2010-10-28T10:33:00.000-07:00

What the heck is wrong with people they are unable to grasp basic grammar? I don't pretend to be the queen of all grammar related issues but the improper use of "Your versus You're" drives me crazy. As does...alot.

Alot crazy. A LOT. It's not alot! IT IS NOT ONE WORD.

While I am at it:

1. People who do not hem their pants and allow them to drag under their heels.
2. Chewing with mouths open and/or full. Whatever you need to say - it can wait.
3. Subscription offers in magazines that fall out as you are trying to read said magazine.
4. Chipped nail polish.
5. Painted on eyebrows.
6. Badly maintained hair color.
7. Price tags on picture frames that will NOT come off and leave a smudge no matter what.
8. Wire hangers.
9.People with so many facial piercing that they look like they fell face first into a fishing tackle box.
10. Beer guts.
11. Thongs that are visible at the back of jeans.

and do I need to mention....

11. MOOBS.

I have dozens more. You?

4am Humor.

2010-10-25T08:45:00.000-07:00

Jack thinks he is oh so witty sometimes. (Remember Duggar Math?)

From 4am this morning, I present...my wanna be stand up comic husband.

Me: This breastfeeding can make me feel like a cow sometimes. Moooooooo...

Jack: But you are doing such an udder-ly good job at it.

Me: Seriously. Save it.

Jack: I'm sow-ry?

Me: Please get me a phonebook.

Jack: Why?

Me: I need to review the listings for 24 hour divorce helplines.

Hehehehehe.

Foto Friday.

2010-10-22T08:01:00.001-07:00

One of these days he'll be awake for this pic.

If You Eat Trail Mix....

2010-10-20T09:48:00.000-07:00

At 4am in the morning with one hand while breastfeeding, be sure and check to see if any landed on the baby anywhere.

Because when your husband picks up him up a while later and thinks a dried cranberry is a blood clot: Things can get a little stressful for him and hence you may get woken up.

Just looking out for you.

Anderson The Stopwatch.

2010-10-19T15:45:00.000-07:00

I can't find it. But I know somewhere on his person this kid has hidden a stopwatch.

It goes off every 2 hours ON THE DOT. It's fascinating really. You can set your own watch by it. I just might.

At the stroke of 2 hours, he wakes up/starts up/fires up. As if we were holding his feet to hot coals. Once he eats, tranquility resumes and somewhere, his tiny hand finds it's tiny hidden stopwatch and he hits "restart".

Is this just my kid? Does yours have a stopwatch? Honestly he has a future career timing something.

Teenage guilt...

2010-10-14T12:51:00.000-07:00

I think I will take a picture of me hooked up to this breast pump. For, you know, guilting a teenager later on about HOW MUCH I SACRIFICED FOR YOU.

Ha. Can you imagine showing a 15 year old a picture like that? They would hate you for a few years I am sure. If you weren't already TOTALLy uncool in teenage eyes, that would seal the deal.

But nothing makes me laugh more than this pump. I am not good at sitting still. So this is an exercise in patience for me. Moooooooooo.

So yes, the pumping and breastfeeding battle continue. All good, seems to be moving in the right direction.

Also, this kid is peeing through diaper, onsie, swaddle and crib sheet a couple of times a day. I could crack a bottle of bubbly over his bow and launch him at sea. We are currently experimenting with different brands. Jack has examined diaper application in detail and he's puzzled too. You can imagine his chagrin over the diaper design.

Speaking of ass...

2010-10-11T09:13:00.000-07:00

I imagine that ass in tea form tastes like this crap:

Sorry Anderson, I will not be drinking much of this stuff. We'll have to rely on the other zillion things we are doing to help out with the lactation.

This tastes like licorice. And therein lies the problem. I detest licorice. It tastes like, well, ASS.

See a trend here?

The new FUU needs a name? Picture Friday sounds boring.

2010-10-08T15:32:00.000-07:00

I always did "FUU" Friday Ute Update, but it perhaps we'll have to dispense with that now that le kiddo is on the outside.

I have no intention of posting pics everyday. He's cute and all, but honestly I think that would be boring. And it would be hard for me to rant on about, you know, whatever I am ranting about - and then throw in a random picture of the breech ball. So a picture(s) every Friday, how about that.

Here is the breech ball on Monday. I take these sorts of pictures for our family on the other side of the country, who have an insatiable appetite for pics. I sent this one with the disclaimer to expect these posed shots ONLY once a month. But for the first month why not once a week.

Oh and that was taken in his room. I will post a few pics of that next Friday.

All About Asses.

2010-10-07T07:46:00.000-07:00

Ass Mention #1.

We were at the clinic on Friday for Anderson's first appointment. The nurse weighed him and then of course Jack gets on his blackberry, doing the math to see where his weight is going and updating some chart he's got going.

As Jack is doing this the med student walks in, and Jack barely looks up from his backberry while he finishes calculating. So the med student looks at me like "WTF? Is your husband not interested?" Sure she thought he was the worst father EVER. I say "Oh he's not an ass! He's working out the weight gain percentage on his calculator!" Lol.

Ass Mention #2.
.
Med Student: Any concerns?
Me: Well, he hasn't pooped much.
Med Student: Well, rest assured he has an anus. So he will poop.
.
Hello, captain obvious. Seriously chickie? I'm pretty sure if he didn't have an anus we would have heard about it by now. But thank you for the remarkable insight.

1 week and 1 day old. The breech ball.

2010-10-05T08:48:00.000-07:00

Well here we are - 1 week and 1 day old! So far so good. He's sleeping really well. I know I know. Just you wait?

The only thing of course is the breastfeeding. Battling a supply issue because I am BFAR (breastfeeding after a reduction). We are throwing everything at it - Motillium, pumping, herbals, massage, hot compress, going back and forth to the lactation clinic - you name it. Slowly improving or so I hope.

I'm not against formula. I'd be happy to have him get to a combination of breast feeding and formula if that will work out. Either way, kid has to eat.

From this morning - here's my little "breech ball" as I like to call him. Usually he is still curled up in a ball with those feet around his ears!

Hum. Totally by accident he is wearing a dinasour onesie lying on what looks like a Fred Flinestone blanket. Let's call him BamBam instead then shall we? Ha.

Jack has a revision.

2010-09-30T16:07:00.000-07:00

I told him I would correct it in a birth story post, but he feels it is important that you know that Nellie Furtado got axed in favour of "American Women" once he (Jack) arrived in the OR. I was apparently deep in the drugs by then because I forgot.

Anderson is neither a) American nor b) a woman. Still, this is a rocking song and much better than lame ass Nellie. Or god forbid, the aformentioned Celine Dion. I would have had them stuff Anderson back in if he had come out to "My Heart Will Go On".

Here you are, in honour of Anderson's rocking arrival.

Chicken Nugget Makes An Appearance

2010-09-29T16:30:00.000-07:00

Here he is:

Anderson James.

Arrived on Monday September 27th at 9:34am to the strains of Nellie Furtato "Fly Like a Bird". 7 lbs 12 ozs, 20 inches long. Nellie F made the cut after a rousing conversation in the OR about if it was too early for Christmas music. The anesthesiologist and I were adamant that of course it was (seriously it's September). We won the vote. CD selection was limited though let me tell you, hence the lesser of all evils in the CD choices. And whomever actually listens to that Celine Dion CD in there..... should have their medical licence revoked.

Section went well, I'm recovering well. Despite his arrival via sunroof and my previous breast reduction surgery I am breastfeeding. Subborn. More on that, and everything else later.

Meanwhile, Mr. Anderson:

Who Jack and I think looks like a chicken nugget in his swaddle. He keeps threatening to dip him in plum sauce and gobble him up!

This time tomorrow I will be someone's mother.

2010-09-26T09:58:00.000-07:00

I find that exceedingly odd.

But c-section is on for 8am, and there you have it.

I never particularily aspired to parenthood. It wasn't until I was 30- something that I even considered marriage, and only of course because I met Jack. Took me a few more years to get on board with the baby idea, and then of course there was our journey through IF.

I'm excited. I'm apprehensive. I'm worried we'll raise an axe murderer. I'm concerned about being outnumbered by males in this house. At points I've worried about losing my identity (as a business person and whatever else), and that I will become nothing more than someone's "mommy" - adrift in a sea of diapers and not able to converse about anything deeper than toilet training. Yes yes, I understand that parenthood is the most important job in the world - don't get started. But look at it from the perspective of how long it's been just me, and then just Jack and I.

Ages ago, I used to have an assistant who was a tough, snarky, straight shooting old gal, raised in a hard knock part of England. I loved her. One day at lunch one of the younger girls was on about feeling "instant and true love". Betty piped up and said:

"That's all rubbish. True love my behind. I'll tell you what: The ONLY instant true love on this planet is when they put a baby in your arms in that delivery room. That's true love. And don't you forget it".

I've remembered that for years. And I believe you Betty.

Bloody Nipples and a Sore Bum.

2010-09-25T09:50:00.000-07:00

And absolutely nothing to do with pregnancy or babies.

Jack is a runner. We both are, but I'm out temporarily at 39 weeks pregnant. So lately Jack's been doing some really long runs with a friend, and he's had some trouble with chafing: Bleeding nips and irritated bum crack. I bring you from this morning..... our 6am conversation.

J: Off to run with Sean.
C: Please do something with your nipples and bum crack.
J: Nah.
C: So you prefer pain and discomfort?
J: Okay maybe some vaseline.
C: No don't use that. It's not a lubricant you know.
J: Yes it is.
C: No it is NOT. In fact, do you know how may times emergency rooms treat people who have used it for sex and end up tearing something? It's not a lube.
J: You are making that up.
C: Nope. Seriously happens all the time.
J: What does my bum and running have to do with sex accidents?
C: I don't know...but it begs the question what ARE you and Sean actually doing out there on your runs? Hummmm?
J: Haha. Not funny.
C: Kidding. But seriously look after that stuff. We BOTH can't be here next week with sore nipples and lower parts.
J: Okay I will. And don't put that joke about Sean and I in your blog.
C: Of course not.
J: And don't tell them about my bum either.
C: 10 4.
J: You totally are going to aren't you.
C: Yup.

Adventures in Babyflipping: Last but not least: The Porn Technique.

2010-09-24T16:37:00.000-07:00

1. Spent a lot of time on the floor, on your hands and knees with your ass in the air.

2. Or with your hips propped up on a pillow with your pelvis in the air.

And thus concludes our special series on Babyflipping.

Adventures in Babyflipping: Chiropractor (Webster Technique) and Moxa

2010-09-24T12:36:00.000-07:00

Installment #2 of the babyflipping measures. One more to tell you after all of this.

The Webster Technique

Is a chiropractic adjustment that apparently has very high success rates in allowing breech babies to turn. During pregnancy, the bones of the pelvis shift quite a bit. This can cause tightening in the ligaments and muscles in the lower back area as well as those that attach to the pelvis, resulting in some constraint of the uterus. This constraint can make it difficult for the baby to get into a head down position.

Basically, the doctor does very gentle pelvic adjustment that corrects the misalignment. The uterus then relaxes and the baby has a little more room to turn. What’s amazing about the Webster Technique is the reported success rates, which range from 75% to 95% according to a few studies.

Usually they like to start around 35 weeks with the adjustments, we are of course way behind the 8 ball there. I've had two this week and will have two more.

Moxibustion (AKA why my living room smells like a hippy party)

Moxibustion originated in China thousands of years and is performed all over the world, by practitioners of traditional Chinese medicine or acupuncture. Recent modern scientific research has shown that the use of moxibustion is an effective and non-invasive way to treat breech babies.

The Moxa (mugwort) stick is burned for 5 minutes x 2 times a day near a certain point on the small toe of the foot. There are some amazingly interesting studies on how effective it is, in particular in combination with the chiro.

We are taking the "don't knock it until you try it" approach with all of this. So we tried it. It hasn't worked, and may not.

C-section is schedule for Monday.

Adventures in Babyflipping: The Version

2010-09-23T09:30:00.000-07:00

Figured I'd post about the version, in the event anyone comes looking for a first hand account of one. We are also doing chiro and a few other things, will post them all too. Educational, non?

So then. The External cephalic version (EVC) or version as they call it simply means an OB trying to manually turn a breech baby from the outside. Percentages for success vary depending on who you ask. One doctor gives you one range, then another something different.

All and all takes about 15 minutes or less. They do put an IV in, on the odd (very rare) chance that something goes sideways while they are doing it and they have to rush you into to OR. Also, IV is for a small dose of nitroglycerin (more below) .

So then. In the room for sure is the OB, anesthesiologist, L&D nurse, and whomever else including Jack. In our case there was also the on-call doctor and the resident. But the main characters are the OB and anesthesiologist. The anesthesiologist gives you a quick shot of Nitroglycerin which helps to relax the uterine muscles.

Then the fun begins.

Looking at the u/s machine at the same time to watch position, the OB tries to manually move the baby (external). It feels like he is attempting to apply enough pressure to push you and the baby down the 5 floors and back to the lobby, or possibly through the core of the earth and onwards to China. Does it hurt? I think I'm pretty tough when it comes to pain (and they certainly told me afterwards I did stellar compared to some) so perhaps this is just my take, but I didn't find it particularily painful. Uncomfortable? Absolutely. Fun? Not really.

He tried it 3 times. The second attempt he got the baby to move sideways, but then little man went right back to having his butt in my pelvis. What can you?

After the version is done you stay on your side on the monitor for 30 minutes, then you are free to leave the hospital and go get fries and gravy. Or at least that was what I did.

More updates tomorrow from Adventures in Babyflipping.

Genuises in Triage.

2010-09-20T05:48:00.000-07:00

Back to L&D yesterday. I woke up determined to spend the day catching up on work. Instead, some bright red blood changed that and off we went. What can you do.

In a nutshell: No idea about the blood and no baby yesterday. I'm still just 1 cm dilated and the baby is still FIRMLY breech. Yesterday ended with us trying the EVC (version) that was scheduled for this Wednesday. Hey, we were there anyway so why not try it suggested the OB. More on the version tomorrow, it gets it's own post.

Triage though. Jack and I were fascinated with our neighbours on the other side of the curtain yesterday. I fully admit that by the end of it, we were sitting there in silence - listening intently to the trashy twosome. Combined IQ of oh, 100-ish I'd say. Here are some highlight conversations:

He: I'm surprised you called me.
She: I'm surprised you answered the phone.
_____

She: Turn off your phone. You can't have it on here.
He: I need to talk to my peeps about hangin' later.
She: You are having a baby.
He: Huh.
________

Nurse: Taking any meds? When is your due date?
She: Somethin' for my blood pressure. Dunno the name. Due around October 15th. He knocked me up.
_______

She: So me and the girls went out to this place and I was fucking pissed. They had an automatic gratuity.
He: An automatic what?
She: Gratuity.
He: What?
She: Gratuity. Tip.
He: Why the fuck couldn't you just say tip? Tryin' to be fancy?
_____

Delightful non? We almost hated to leave. Because now I will NEVER KNOW the outcome of the fascinating story about how he brought her an expensive gift from Costco that she is convinced he stole. The thing is.... I think she was part way proud of that.

Triage. Trash central yesterday. Highly entertaining.

FUU. No one is amused.

2010-09-17T12:22:00.000-07:00

To quote Queen Victoria - my clinic was not amused by "fluid gate". Lots of head shaking there today about my Monday trip to the hospital.

I wasn't amused either. But what can you do. On the upside: I've now had a look around L&D and Jack got to play with the monitoring machine.

In any event, here's the plan from here. Having u/s on Monday afternoon to see if he is still breech (sure that will be the case). Then (unless the u/s shows a reason not to) will be having an EVC on Wednesday morning to see if h e will flip. If he does, then back to normal baby watch. If he doesn't, we'll be scheduling a c-section for some time in the next week or so afterwards. Not really looking forward to that EVC when everyone (doctors included) keep warning it's "not particularly pleasant". Sure I'll live though :)

Read more on here: EVC

Dry run that wasn't so dry. FUU on a Monday.

2010-09-13T18:45:00.000-07:00

Righto. Went for the u/s today to see if the baby is breech. 100% would be the answer, with his head rammed up against my ribcage. Also the u/s tech reports that the amniotic fluid is "very low" at 2.5 (anything under 5 is worrisome) and you need to go to L&D.

Well now. So much for my meeting at 1pm.

Off we go, well after a pit stop at my office and home. And some lunch. I know how they roll at the hospital, no food or drink. And I was HUNGRY. Oh right and a quick call to a client. Jack was staring at me...really? A calm discussion with your client NOW? Relax babe.

So we get to L&D and all hooked up, with everyone and their dog is saying a c/s is probably coming up in 5 hours if the specialist didn't have a very different take on things. Low and behold...after double checking twice - she says the fluid level is 7.2 (and admired my necklace. Why thank you. I like this one too).

But....what the F u/s tech? That's a big discrepancy between 2.9 and 7.2. Who knows. Complete incompetence? Or the clear difference between a 10 month u/s tech training course and 8 years of med school?

Either way I was dressed, out the door and at another meeting later in the afternoon.

The plan from here: Try a version (flip the baby manually) on Friday. If it doesn't work we are still looking at a c/s. Given we have hired a doula and planned a natural birth - that's quite the opposite of what we aspired to. But here is the thing:

These things don't always go as planned. And if it goes that way, so be it. People have c-sections every day. I've not heard of a kid getting teased on the playground because he got pulled out instead of pushed out. And I believe that you do what you can, and if it doesn't go to plan, so be it.

Jack's joke is that it was a dry run..but it wasn't so dry in there after all. Get it? I know. Humour him. He thinks he's very funny.

There's been a tarnished halo sighting....

2010-09-12T11:03:00.000-07:00

HAHAHA. We are all quite aware that Jack doesn't mess up often. Rarely any tarnish on that boy's halo right? You know then how much I love stuff like this - remember?

Tarnished Halo: May 2010

But he sure did last night, AND the funny thing is that he probably gave the "just you wait" chorus a (false) reason to feel vindicated. Except they shouldn't, not at all.

I'll be back tomorrow with a wee update on the wedding we went to last night, and poor Jack and his non shiny halo. He's not over it yet.

Two posts in one day. Wow. Here's a pic...

2010-09-10T16:01:00.000-07:00

A week ago today. And yes, I love accessories. I don't often leave the house without earrings, necklace, whatever else.

The "just wait" chorus would probably be DYING about now to say "Just you wait until that baby is born. You won't care what you look like when you leave the house."

Right?

LOL.

FUU!

2010-09-10T09:24:00.000-07:00

First off, still feeling great (with apologies and perhaps a middle finger to the "just you wait" chorus. There may still be hope I will start feeling horrid, hang in there).

36.5 weeks. I had my fingers crossed this AM (first internal) that I would have had a vault like cervix. But it would appear it was soft, open, and 1 cm dilated.

In fact, his head (or his butt) is sitting so low that she couldn't tell from the internal if it was one or the other. "Round" was about as much as she could tell. U/s on Monday will give us a look at that.

If mental power alone can keep that kid in there, I am sending strong "2 more weeks" vibes. But what can ya do?

Do I need to tell you Jack is beside himself? No I do not. As we were driving home from the appointment I was sitting there deep in throught mentally running down my to do list.

He was grinning like some deranged maniac. Now he's packing his hospital bag. Never mind that I haven't done that yet.

FUU! With a bit of a rant.

2010-09-05T09:50:00.000-07:00

35.5 weeks. Great appointment with the doctor, all looks good. She "thinks" the baby might be head down, whereas breech has been on the agenda every week up to now. Still going to send me for the u/s next week to be sure, but hopefully that is resolved.

Otherwise, feel really good. I tell you what though: It irritates me that some people (mostly acquaintances/strangers. People who know me probably wouldn't dare) seem to want to insist that I should be feeling bad, or at least have some pile of complaints. Example:

- How are you feeling?
- Fine.
- Really? Are you sleeping? How's your back? How are your
   feet?
- All good.
- Oh. Well you are so lucky. Just you wait though. Closer to the
   end it will be hell. You'll be DYING to get that baby out.
- How nice. Something to look forward to I guess.

Listen up: I AM close to the end. And so sorry that I don't meet the criteria for misery that apparently I am supposed to at this point. But the truth remain: I feel just fine. Sure I pee up a storm and sometimes I get a bit sick of lugging around this huge bump, but on the whole it's all good.

My new response (which I tried out last night) is going to be:

Would you prefer it if I made something up? I can if you'd like:
"Why yes. My back is absolutely killing me". Better?

Followed by a laugh and a huge smile. They don't quite know what to think. But it works like a charm.

And if in a week or so I actually AM in misery, well just imagine! They can be so smug and happy in their "I TOLD her so" thoughts.

Duggar Math.

2010-09-01T09:26:00.000-07:00

This morning over breakfast we got into a conversation about "next time". I am generally loath to put the cart before the horse and have a conversation like this - but it is likely we'll be back at the RE sooner than later early next year. Tick tock and all of that.

I was then saying to Jack that given I was pregnant as of August 2009, had the m/c in October, pregnant again in December, will give birth in October 2010 (yes. OCTOBER) and perhaps could be pregnant again sooner than later in 2011, that I could effectively be pregnant for the better part of 2 + years.

You'd think this would elicit a "Wow, aren't you a saint" or something to that effect.

Nope. He just looks at me for a minute and says:

"You Duggar you".

35/35

2010-08-30T08:15:00.000-07:00

Well yup. Today is that "35/35" day, when there are 35 weeks have passed with the pregnancy, and 35 DAYS left to go.

I said it. DAYS.

Perhaps I am the exception (wouldn't be a first) but the whole "WHY won't time move faster so I can get this baby OUT" thing that people moan about is not.on.my.wish.list. I'd like him to stay in there until oh... December. That would be fab.

Just busy busy with work and stuff. One of the charities I sit as a board director on (the one that deals with getting women in poverty things they need for babies) is just kicking off planning for our enormous February event and so busy busy with that. And planning a baby shower for a friend. And writing an accreditation exam for a professional designation I have been pursuing for some time. And buying a new car. And getting the landscaping done.

And oh yes - baby stuff. It's all underway. I'm just not...obsessed with it I guess, the way some are.

Mind you, the child has no name. Not even close. More on THAT later. Working on it!

FUU!

2010-08-27T05:55:00.000-07:00

34.5 weeks. Or 38 days to go. I feel great for the most part. Can't really complain about much.

Mostly what is going on around here is baby room stuff. And mostly by Jack. He's going to sew the valances and the pillows this weekend. The furniture also supposedly arrives on Saturday. Ordered it in June. I say supposedly because I trust no retail outlet of any sort with delivery time estimates until I actually have the stuff in hand.

I think this baby room willl turn out quite nicely. (I don't care for the word nursery. It's on my top 20 list of words I really don't like at all). The room doesn't have a baby theme, I'll tell you that. I figure the kid won't care for years what the decor is, and in the meantime I am the one who has to look at it. So I guess then the theme is "what Cat wants to look at".

Hey Lady Frost N' Tip!

2010-08-25T20:52:00.000-07:00

Jack and I play in a lawn bowling league every Wednesday.

What? Ohhh..you think of lawnbowling like this right?

Nope. Lawnbowling is cool and all the rage these days. AND our league looks a bit more like this:

My game has improved considerably this year. This seems to coincide with the sharp dip in wine sales on league night.

Coincidence? I think not.

I'm a consistent bowler, not our team star but not bad either. But what I lack in skill I make up for with my official role: To entertain the other two girls on our team (Kim and Tawny) by thinking up nicknames to make fun of people on other teams. Jack is no fan of this pass time. Surprised?

Examples:

30ish woman with bad dye job: Lady Frost N' Tip.

40 something man wearing too tight jeans which leave nothing to the imagination in the front: Blue Balls.

Very hot maybe 20 year old (but maybe younger) but absolutely too young for us to be looking at in any event: Bieber Bait.

I just have to make sure those two don't have a few too many vinos and start actually using those nicknames. The day a tipsy Kim bellows "Hey Lady Frost N' Tip! Well played tonight!" in the clubhouse is the day Jack will stop speaking to me. Ha.

A Programming Note.

2010-08-24T08:26:00.000-07:00

New look! Thanks to the talented Blonde over at Transatlantic Blonde we have a new look around here. Many thanks!

If you haven't been there before, be sure and check out her blog. In particular her adorable blondie child :)

While I am on about changes, look over there on the right. Blogroll. Buttons. Or at least the start of one. I know a few people have me on theirs, and I'd like to return the favour. If your blog doesn't bore the pants off me that is. When do blogs bore me? Hard to say specifically. But for sure when they are mundane. Or when they haven't been updated since Christ was a child. Or when the author uses "your" in the wrong context and makes my eyes bleed.

That sort of thing. But I bet all of your blogs are great. Or at least the ones I've read so far have been!

Lemme know if you follow along here and I'll come get your button.

FUU (Friday Ute Update)

2010-08-23T09:23:00.000-07:00

Yah it's Monday. Details details.

So, 33.5 weeks. Last week was interesting. Some stabbing pain under my belly button turns out to be some stretched (or maybe a bit torn) ab muscles. For about 24 hours there I felt like I had done 1000 sit ups. But thanks to a good friend who is also an OB, we chalked it up to muscles.

Of course right...I mean that belly of mine is growing by the minute and those muscles are separating. So all good there. Back to feeling just fine really.

Otherwise, we are on a ride (like at Six Flags). But my ride is called the "Spendatron" and I'd like to get off it soon. However, between car seats, furniture, strollers and what have you, we just keep plugging dollars into the ride and holding onto our hats.

Not that we have decided on a stroller. I mean COME ON. Kid will be in college before that decision is made. Jack is convinced his next career will be in car seat/stroller design. He's quite disgusted by the "complete lack of well thought out engineering and ease of use considerations" for most baby items.

In particular, the "tendency towards cable brakes instead of axel brakes and shoddy use of space " on strollers ticks him off.

Do.not. get.him.started.on.car.seats. Graco and the rest of you - don't be surprised if you recieve a specification redesign suggestion drawing in the mail.

We've had company since July 10th.

2010-08-17T08:37:00.000-07:00

Did I tell you that? Hotel Cat running full occupancy this summer. Thankfully it's been all family who we adore. Our last visitor is Jack's father who is here painting up a storm. Much more on that later. Jack has nothing on Jack senior when it comes to anal-ness, ingenuity and thoroughness. Let me tell you.

But here's a question based on having had a variety of people here all summer, all with different habits. It's a deeeeepp question, brace yourself.....

Do you keep your:

Peanut butter
Ketchup
Bread

In the fridge? Or somewhere else? Everyone seems to do something differently.

This one goes out to my +35 ladies.

2010-08-16T10:54:00.000-07:00

If you have absolutely no idea who this is, or have never heard this song before...well stop reading now. And if you post a comment like "OMG! I wasn't even born then!" you are off my Christmas list and on my shit list.

Vintage. Absolute vintage. Who remember this? Come on now...can't you FEEL the teenage angst? Remember singing this and PINING for some dude or another? Where the hell is my crimping iron?

Jack Wagner on a soap at the time he did this yes? I don't think I watched the soap. But I know I love love loved him. FRISCO FOREVER.

FUU!

2010-08-13T11:09:00.000-07:00

32.5 weeks. Nothing to report. As usual. (Are you getting bored of that? Perhaps I can cook up something more dramatic in the future).

I volunteered to take part in two pregnancy studies focused on nutrition/exercise and pregnancy outcomes. Some people think I am a touch crazy to go to all of the appointments, give blood and all the rest. In particular perhaps because of my previous life as a pin cushion and otherwise during IF. (You'll remember me musing that it would be quicker to install traffic lights in my vag, such a busy place it was).

But I don't mind to give the time (oh and blood and pee). Because studies like these are how they determine best practices and guidelines for pregnancy. Which everyone always wants to know about. Happy to do my part.

BUT OMG. This morning for one of the studies, they gave me a gift bag as I was leaving. In the bag was a sample newborn Huggie.
.
When I got back I called Jack, took out the diaper and set it on the table between us. We both sat there staring at it. It was smaller than my water bottle.

Silence. Terror filled silence for a moment. Then:

"Well I honestly just can't wait".

Gotta love Jack.

8 weeks to go!

Armed and dangerous. Beep.

2010-08-12T10:21:00.000-07:00

So my friends are throwing me a shower. How nice of them. I wasn't going to register or anything, but given most of them are childless wine swigging singles, I was "encouraged" to do so to make it easier for them.

Quote "Cat I don't know a diaper from a baby's butt end. Help me out for the love of god and get one of those list things for the shower so I don't have to learn more than I want to know about baby gear.

Righty. So I take Jack for a preliminary look around the baby store. Wasn't planning on registering, just having a look. He thinks it's a good idea to at least get the list started, so we fill out the stuff.

And they gave him that farking gun.

He was like a man possessed. Keep in mind he doesn't know anything about baby stuff quite yet. But he loved the idea of pointing that gun at stuff and putting it on the list. So it kinda played out like this in the store.

Me (two aisles over looking at something): What are you doing?

Jack: Nothing! BEEP.

Me: STOP THAT! We need to make a list.

Jack: I know. I'm just looking. BEEP BEEP!

Me: I CAN HEAR THAT GUN! Stop tagging stuff.

Jack: OKAY! BEEP!

Me: KNOCK IT OFF! Give me that thing.

Jack: Okay, I stopped. beep! (he held his farking hand over it. Thinks that will work as a silencer I suppose).

Now I still need to make a list AND remove all of the nonsense he put on there yesterday. And if he wants to come back and hold the gun...I'm bringing a taser.

Tool.

"Stitchy All Over"

2010-08-09T18:09:00.000-07:00

I've been going to the same nail place for over 7 years. Super busy shop, staffed by the most darling little old Vietnamese ladies you'll ever meet. They are not in possession of verbal filters. Picture them today, all bent over toes at a long line of pedicure stations.

Kim (and chorus): Caffy! You so big!

Me: Yup, guess so!

Kim (and chorus): You have BIG BABY! That hurt you down there maybe (cue pointing at crotches and wincing faces all 'round the pedicure stations).

Me: Oh hopefully not.

Mai (one of the chorus line): You small, you split in haff.

Me: Mai! Come on now. Don't try to scare me.

Kim: Not in haff maybe. But maybe stitchy all over.

Chorus Line: Ouccchhhhh.

WTF. Those ladies make me howl with laughter. I adore them.

FUU! And a FNU....

2010-08-06T13:55:00.000-07:00

That would be a "Friday Nursery Update".

First: Sorry for the silence. Company, work, charity stuff, BF got engaged, etc etc etc.

Ute update: All good with me. 31.5 weeks today, was at the doctor this morning. The only thing on the radar is that the baby is breech with a capital B. He could turn any time of course, only at 36 weeks will they order a u/s to see what's up. That's ages away.

Here I am this morning:

And now: Nursery Update.

We are making progress. Jack is going to sew something for the windows, make the cushion for the glider, and also some wall stuff. So I was out with my mother picking out fabric (she's here for 2 weeks). Conversation recap:

Mom: I have NO idea how much fabric you need. Sorry I can't help you there. That's a problem.

Me: It doesn't matter. You can bet Jack will draw the "specs" out like NASA would put together a rocket, come in here and order it himself. Even if you did know how much we needed, he'd do his own measurements.

Mom: Surely you exaggerate.

Me: Surely you have met Jack?

Fast forward a few days. Mom, Jack and I are back at the fabric place. Jack has his "cutting guideline" or whatever it is. (Sewers: You know what it is, where you lay out what you can get out of the fabric or something?).

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..........

Sorry I dozed off there. Sewing bores the shit out of me.

But anyway.. It was a magnificant piece of paper showing the dimensions of the room and then a translation into the "cutting guideline" thing.

The clerk in the shop was impressed. My mother was a bit wide eyed. I made her apologize to me too. Baha.

I'll have some pics next week. I have begged him to find that piece of paper so I can take a picture and show you. Fingers crossed he forks it over.

FUU! (Friday Ute Update)

2010-07-23T10:11:00.000-07:00

Nearly 30 weeks. I am mired squarely in denial. Seriously.

I.am.having.a.baby.

I need to start chanting that daily, the way some people meditate or whatever. Or do daily affirmations.

Not a whole heck of a lot to report. Saw the doctor last week, passed the GD test. My red blood cell count is lower than they'd like to see, but she's not worried about that.

She is also the leading circumcision doctor in our city. So given we know it's a boy, she asked if we were circumcising. Nope. Jack isn't, we don't see a reason to do it either way. (Yes babe, I did just tell them about your penis. I did). She then says "Well - I didn't circumcise any of my 3 boys. I told them to have fun wearing it off instead". Ha.

In other "in denial news" I.am.firmly.committed (I'll have to start chanting that daily too) to doing something about the nursery. Currently occupied by my home office which needs to move to another room. Jack's father is coming out in a couple of weeks to help us get ready/paint. (You think Jack's anal? He looks downright slovenly compared to his father. I will have stories!)

In the meantime....ooooooooommmmmmmmmmmm....

I.am.having.a.baby.
I.am.having.a.baby.

"Good junk" and my slowly departing sanity.

2010-07-21T11:46:00.000-07:00

There is a battle going on here. It's mostly silent, but present every single day.

I detest clutter/hanging onto stuff that has no future use.

Jack lives for saving/collecting "good junk".

I am my mother's child. She too detests clutter. Or anything that hasn't been used in the past 24 hours really. She's much worse than me. The day my grandmother was moved to a nursing home she called a local antique (read: junk) fellow and had him come over to my grandmother's house. Standing in the foyer, they had this conversation:

Antique fellow: "What did you want us to price for you/remove?
Mom (with sweeping arm motion): "All of it".
Antique fellow: "This room?"
Mom: "No, everything in the house"

I got wind of this from my sister, and was able to make a frantic call from the other side of the country to beg that she keep a dresser I really liked, it was one of the antiques! I haven't gotten around to having it shipped all the way out here. But she reminds me now and then that is hindering her overall happiness by being tucked away in the corner of the basement.

Good think my father is agile. If he sat still long enough he'd be bagged and tossed. I'm quite sure of it.

(Side note: SOMEONE remind me to tell you the story of my mother and my grandmother's funeral clothes. Seriously you need me to tell you about that).

In any event. I have to spirit things out of here under cover of darkness to keep Jack from retrieving them. I used to put things directly in the recycling, but he got wise to that and now he reviews the recycling before he puts it out. You know, lest I throw away a cracked coffee mug.

So anyway. We've been in this house for 5 years. With an avalanche of company this summer I decided to replace the shower curtain and towels in one of the guest bathrooms. You know, the $10 plastic shower curtain.

Which I then tried to place in the recycling. I even had a preemptive conversation with him:

Me: "See this? It was $10. It's old and stained. I bought a new one. This one needs to be thrown out. You agree yes?"

Jack "Yes for sure"

Well I just came back in from the garage (IE: Jack's hiding place) and I saw that fucking shower curtain peeking out from behind something. Whip out my cell:

Me: "WHY is that shower curtain in the garage?"

Jack: "Uh, I thought about it. And it will make a good drop cloth for painting later".

Don't you DARE try and agree with him. That's just one of the million items that will sit back there and never get used. Old dried out highlighters, broken lamps, one shoe, a warped plastic cutting board, etc

It's all tucked neatly out of sight into bins (labelled bins, it's JACK we are talking about here) but I know it's out there.

Crappy thing is, every now and then something needs to be fixed - and of course Jack's got EXACTLY the little thing to fix it with. Always from his "good junk" pile.

I can't win.

"If You Liked It Then You Should Have Put A Thing On It"

2010-07-20T07:57:00.000-07:00

HAHA. Oh how I love parodies. How are you all? Good here. I am on a mission to get back to regular blogging. This made me howl.

FUU! (AKA Bobcat Boobs).

2010-07-09T05:15:00.000-07:00

Drumroll....here, for the first time, a picture of moi.

27 weeks. LOOK at my boobs. Sigh. They just continue to grow grow grow. (Grow back, to be precise). What can you do?

Yes that's bobcat on the left behind me. Was at my friend's house to look at her new landscaping project.

But let's not discount that bobcat. At the rate my boobs are growing, I may borrow it to cart them around for the entire 3rd trimester.

Otherwise, all good. Yesterday we went to one of those private 4D u/s places, with both sets of parents far far away logged in for the live stream viewing. Swanky. However, baby was too busy hiding behind the placenta for us to even get a small glimpse. They tried for 45 minutes but nadda. We'll try again next week.

Another stubborn child it would appear. My parents vehemently deny even thinking this, but I know they were sitting there in front of the computer going "Well well. Things have a way of coming full circle. It would appear that the most stubborn of all our children has spawned a stubborn child herself. Now we can die vindicated".

HA.

Baby Daddy Song. Which one is your baby daddy?

2010-07-07T08:29:00.001-07:00

Why sew when you can recite the Rosary?

2010-07-06T08:59:00.000-07:00

Wasn't ever interested in sewing really. They didn't offer Home Economics where I went to school. Endless rounds of the rosary, yes. Home Ec - no. Those nuns weren't so crafty .

(Or maybe they were. I distinctly recall the cheerleaders begging to perform on the stage at the spring concert. As the Bishop was to attend and would be seated in the front row, the cheerleaders were told okay. BUT: "ABSOLUTELY NO high kicking. And leave the front kicks out of the routine altogether". Showing your knickers wasn't on. See? Crafty thinking).

In any event I have a deep love for my tailor/seamstress, and she's gotten me through with alterations & whatever all these years. And then...

there's Jack.

(Are you really surprised to find out he can sew? If so, welcome to My Eggs and Ham! Must be your first day here).

Anyhoo he sure can. AND he even has a machine. Gotta love a man that owns both a sewing machine AND a table saw, non?

But back to me. I've gotten along just fine to right now without being able to put needle to thread (the zero interest is helpful in that regard). But what I want for the nursery (some wall stuff and curtains, and a glider pillow) needs to be sewn. Jack of course pipes up "I can do that" and I know he can. But he's got a loonnnnggg list of other stuff to do around here.

So off I go to my tailor, who - when she gets over her shock that I am having a baby - I am sure will do a great job.

Oh Fark. Lightbulb: this means I need to go to the fabric store for the first time in my life too. Shudder.

Kindness.

2010-07-05T11:53:00.000-07:00

If you don't read already follow Adventures with Ainsley Jane, not only are you missing out on the pictures of one adorable little girl, but you haven't gotten to know the lovely J, blogger and mom of the aforementioned Miss Ainsley Jane.

I met J in an on-line forum. She is lovely, sweet, selfless and all around entertaining. She is also kind and thoughtful. One of the first "congratulations on your pregnancy!" cards I recieved was from J. And then today this arrived in the mail:

Thoughtful and kind. That's J. I continue to be blown away at the kindness of people one has never met.

J - you are a beautiful person. You had me at "Grease is the WORD!" oh so long ago :)

FUU! (Friday Ute Update)

2010-07-03T16:46:00.000-07:00

Well ya, I know it's Saturday. But I've been busier than a dog that has not only just discovered he has two penises, but also that the entire block is in heat.

That kinda busy. Work work, what can I say. But here we are:

26.5 weeks. Not a bunch to report, all good. We ordered the nursery furniture, did I tell you? It will arrive mid September. Opps. I'm due October 4th. You'd better not come early Baby Anonymous. Or you'll be in the laundry basket I guess. (Kidding. Put down the phone, protective services doesn't need a call).

Oh yes, no name yet. Not a hint. We'll get there I am sure. We have a couple of books, that should help.

Oh and Jack CANNOT wipe the shiteating grin off his face. CANNOT. The bigger I get, the bigger that grin gets. Just you WAIT until I tell you about his scientific approach to a rocking chair selection. Less thought went into designing the space shuttle I swear to you. Stay tuned.

FUU! (Friday Ute Update)

2010-06-25T07:05:00.000-07:00

Friday again!? 24.5 weeks. This past week two things happened.

a) I had my GD test. Results in a while, but figure that was okay.

b) I perhaps came to the small realization that I am approaching the third trimester and it may be time to start DOING some stuff. You know, ordering things for the baby's room, maybe considering a few names.

My laidbackedness maybe got cranked back a notch, ya know?

The GD test was at my favourite lab of all time. You remember these assholes yes? Employee of the Month at the Lab

Sinning With A Chance Of Stretch Marks.

2010-06-22T08:29:00.000-07:00

I am monitoring my left boob. I think I see a stretch mark.

A few years ago, I had breast reduction surgery. I had an enormous rack, and it bugged the shit out of me. Before you pancake chested girls cue up the "Oh I'd give anything for that!" chorus, let me tell you it wasn't all that fun.

Growing up, I went to a girls convent school. I was busting out of those demure little uniforms at an early stage. I have a sneaking suspicions that when angelic little me went to confession I got a few extra prayers of penance to say based solely on the fact I looked like I was prone to sin. Seriously now.

(The catholic church. Hallmark of irony. Prayers to prevent the chance of sin, but dead set against birth control to prevent the chance of pregnancy in poverty riddled countries. But that's a whole other rant, now isn't it. Remind me to get back to that later).

Those things were huge. At first glance, one might think a career spinning around a pole wasn't out of the question.

So I was delighted to finally have the breast reduction. I knew at the time that any future pregnancy could mean it might all come back on (hopefully temporary) but to be able to jog without giving myself black eyes was well worth it.

I am facing the truth: Right now they are back to the same size as before. Hopefully temporary, like I said. And if this is really the start of stretch marks, well what the hell can you do.

FUU (Friday Ute Update)

2010-06-18T06:23:00.000-07:00

24.5 weeks today. All good!

Not much to report really, but I think I was going to follow up on the rest of what Jack said at the 18 week ultrasound. So...

"Well, zero chance of a prom dress! But, alarmingly, an increased chance of bloody hockey!"

Yes, we are Canadian. No, we are not addicted to hockey. Neither one of us comes from hockey families. He didn't play it growing up (he's a rugby boy). In fact...Jack can't skate :) I have taught him the "hockey stop" though. He's getting better.

Hats off to all of those hockey moms out there (the ones that aren't f-ing crazy that is). But the thought of spending endless hours in a cold rink watching little kids who statistically will never make it to the NHL toddle around the ice in expensive equipment that won't fit them in few months....does nothing for me.

Also, I think the hockey jersey is a poor fashion choice outside of a rink. Inside a rink you are still pushing it. it's not like they are going to call you down from the bleachers to sub in. And oh, those suburban hockey fans. Add a beer gut, khaki shorts, Molson Canadian baseball hat, and feet with ugly toenails shoved into Teva sandals....bletch. Maybe put down the nachos now and then and hit the gym my friend.

Don't get me started on those foam fingers.

But watch now - the first word this kid will say is "hockey".

You know how some things just make you laugh..

2010-06-17T15:26:00.000-07:00

The more you look at them?

These recipes from 1974 (ish) make me howl with laughter. The commentary is priceless. Read them all, they get better and better.

Link:

What the hell glad the '70s are over.

FUU! (Friday Ute Update)

2010-06-11T06:18:00.000-07:00

Firstly, did I mention it's a boy!? When the u/s tech brought it up on the screen at the 18 ultrasound I could see that right away. Not so much Jack. Conversation went like this:

Me: See that? I totally can!
Jack: What?
Me: The sex, see what it is?
Jack: No.
U/S tech: It's very obvious!
Jack: I CAN'T.
Me: Okay, it's a boy! We are looking at it from behind, through his legs. You're a boy too, surely you see the similarities? :)
Jack: Well I don't usually make a habit of looking at my penis and testicles from behind my ass. So no, I didn't catch that.

Then....he really made me laugh. So cute. I'll tell you next week.

Anyway.

23 and a half weeks today. All good. I'll update FUU weekly, promise!

Seriously Salma Hayek. I thought you had bigger balls than that.

2010-06-09T15:08:00.000-07:00

Sure I know, not everyone likes snakes. Or bugs. Or whatever. But the sheer panic (not to mention showing her bits AND nearly severing the other girl's head with her high heel as she attempts to jump over her)....a tad overdone. I mean really. Girlie girl.

I FREAKING LOVE that she's promoting the movie "GrownUps". Irony appeals to me greatly.

*Warner is pulling the video down everywhere including Youtube. So in the meantime, here ya go:

Mirror Mirror On The Wall, Who's The Biggest Baby Of All.

Your Turn.

2010-06-07T15:44:00.000-07:00

Here's a poll (of sorts). All about you, my cherished readers (and I do cherish you!)

Cue: Cherish song by Madonna in your head. Sorry 'bout that.

This blog doesn't have a particular "theme". I don't mean the background (Oh....if you don't like the wet lips look up there, well that's kinda too bad. Unless you'd like to design something new for me! All ears!)

What I mean is...the general direction of what I write about. Sometimes it's Jack, sometimes it's ranting along about trying to conceive, sometimes pregnancy, sometimes politics, sometimes celebrities, sometimes cooking, sometimes god knows what.

So here's my question to you: What would you like to see more of? Keeping in mind, I may or may not stick to it. But I'm sorta interested. I love to write, and I'm happy to add (or subtract) a bit here or there topic wise if there's more you'd like to read.

So let's hear it! More (or less) about...what? Or is it just fine as is?

Over to you.

Baby Daddy Panic.

2010-05-31T10:55:00.000-07:00

Looking back on it, it's kinda funny. Funny pathetic maybe. But for a few minutes (7 to be exact) it wasn't so funny yesterday.

Jack ran the half marathon with a friend. So the friend's wife and I headed over to the finish line to cheer them in. Friend comes over the finish line, but no Jack. Apparently Jack wasn't feeling too great at mile 9, so told him to go ahead. "Unusual for Jack" he says "I think he was having a bit of trouble".

Unusual is right. Jack was in great shape for the race.

Now first let's remember: I'm in the communication field. Sometimes doing some crisis PR, where the first thing I tell everyone is to remain level headed, calm, look at the facts, etc. I am usually the one dispensing the "it will be okay" soothing advice.

All of that: Out the window. Because in the 7 minutes it took him to come over the finish line behind Steve I had cooked up the following in my mind:

He had a medical emergency and is being treated. Or, he's dead.
I am going to have to raise this child on my own.
Well just great. He just HAD to go and run this thing.

But then over the line he runs. Turns out the wet, damp and cold was doing a bit of a number on lungs, he thinks he already had bit of a cold.

REALLY. I'm not given to drama. It HAS to be the hormones, non? Anyone else ever have a bout of "Baby Daddy Panic" as I've dubbed it?

Seriously. WTF.

Oh and PS: Jack thinks this is the cutest thing ever. Last night he kept saying things like Okay I'm just running upstairs, I'll be back I promise, try not to worry! Asshole :)

A Wee Spot Of Tarnish On The Halo.

2010-05-26T06:57:00.000-07:00

Oh Jack. How he makes me laugh (unintentionally half the time). He's just so very very good. And thorough (least you forget the spreadsheets). Not often Jack slips up.

So yes I had a good laugh at this.

Signs went up in our neigbourhood that they were coming to clean the streets. You must move your cars in advance if they are parked on the street. Jack says "Oh, I just bet our neighbours won't move theirs. And then the street won't get cleaned properly".

This is very Jack-like. Troubled by the possibility of the incomplete removal of street dirt.

Anyhoo, we head out the next morning to walk the dog. As we are at the park I get this text from my neighbour:

"The street cleaning trucks are here. They are ticketing Jack's car".

I'll just fully admit right now that I took a moment to relish this information.

"Uh babe? The street cleaners are ticketing your car". Cue the race back to the house. In the meantime I get the following text:

"They are towing Jack's car".

Now we are all galloping home. I mean really. Jack's got a reputation to uphold around here. This.just.won't.do.

My neighbour (who just took down her Christmas lights last week but managed to move her car this morning) is out front. I can see from a block off that she's trying hard to turn her laughter into a look of concern. Yeah, me too.

"Oh Jack, looks like it was just a warning ticket. They towed it just enough to clean around it. Didn't you see the signs?"

Poor Jack. Sheer public humilation for the man who labelled his garbage cans.

Don't worry babes though. Your halo still is shiny except for that wee bit of tarnish.

My affair with to do lists aaannnnd my belly button.

2010-05-20T15:41:00.000-07:00

I freaking LOVE lists. Love love love them. I have lists in my blackberry, my kitchen, notebooks (personal and business) and god knows where else. I like to write them, revise them, cross reference them, etc.

You get the idea. Me = anal. And anal = lover of lists.

But I'm lol-ing at how my lists have changed over the past year.

Standard sort of entries in the past:

"Make reservations"
"Pick up wine"
"Book IUI"
"Tune skis"
"Pick up CBEFM sticks"
"Find dress for gala"
"Book tee times"
"Make app for party"

Certainly, some of those still get put on the list (not so the wine though. Surely the wine merchant in my neighbourhood misses me and wonders how he will put those kids through school given his distinct drop in sales).

I have to laugh at my list today. It includes:

"Bellybutton".

This is a reference to the fact that I need to find some sort of belly button ring thingy that is flexible and can see me through the pregnancy. Such an invention exists I am sure. But do they work is the question. A friend of mine left her bb ring in waaayyy too long, and one day as she sat down it just shot off her belly button and clear across the room. Yuck. And ouch.

So dear blog readers, any suggestions? Because I am surely to feck not putting this on my list:

"Put bandage on ripped belly button"

I mean really. That would be a bit much.

Over the Fence #4: "Dear Santa......"

2010-05-17T08:07:00.000-07:00

This is the last of previous installments to post, then onto the new ones.

Crazy Acres. It's a posh neighborhood with a lot going on. New to OTF? Read here:

Over The Fence Explained.

Over the Fence:#4. "Dear Santa......"

Dear Santa,

I know most people write to ask for you to BRING them things. Is it possible to ask for the reverse?

Would you be so kind as to TAKE a few of my neighbours? I know you work from a N&N (naughty and nice) list, but for your consideration I present my S&S (stupid and shallow) list.

1. Susan. Not only does Susan think she knows everything, but she truly believes her child is the second coming of Christ. In actual fact - he is a bit dim (eats dirt, picks nose incessantly, scratches his bum and smells his finger, etc). Last week she dressed him as an angel for the block xmas party. Despite the fact the neighbourhood association had made a decision not to do the nativity scene this year (this decision was made because last year everyone insisted their kiddo play the starring role of the baby Jesus, and it.got.ugly) She did it anyway.

Please please....take her?

2. Kris and Deliah. You know those fashions crimes at the back of Cosmo Magazine? Where they put a black box over the fashion offenders' eyes? That's K and D. When you do haul them out of here, can you be sure to remind them that him sunbathing in his g string last year is burned retinas blocks away? And do let ol' D know that spandex is in fact a privilege....and not a right.

3. Last but not least, I beg you, take Betsy and her lame ass husband. The public bickering/divorce threatening made for good entertainment for only the first year or two. (Oh and she's still secretly smoking in the garage and sneaking booze). That said, I have a feeling that he might be sleeping with his paralegal, in which case Santa....you can leave them for another year. 'Cause I will sure as hell need a front row seat when that fireworks display goes off.

I've been a good girl all year, despite living in the midst of Crazy Acres AND having to attend that party last night where I was temped to use my fondue fork to commit Murder One. I see this as a perfect solution. You visit many villages, my village has enough idiots. Surely you can spread them around?

Love,
Cat

The requisite first bump pic

2010-05-11T10:03:00.000-07:00

Been quiet around here non? I've been up to my ass in work.

Given it's my business I don't get any EI benefits. (Thanks Canadian government. Your support of female entrepreneurs is truly fantastic). So I am working my tail off while I can.

I swear to jaysus this bump thing happened just yesterday. I guarantee you it's mostly bloat. But there's something in there for sure.

We can thank Jack for the picture. I despise having my picture taken but he nagged/begged/harassed me until I let him snap this.

Sorry no head shot in there...the Internet is full of nut jobs as you are well aware. Maybe later.

Your fetus, your choice (NT testing rant)

2010-05-04T08:31:00.000-07:00

Opinions are like asses. Everyone has one.

And people sooooo love giving their opinion on everything pregnancy related. In particular they ADORE telling all of the bad stories. What a backwards society we live in.

What's got me going (again) today. is the way people like to tell you why they think NT testing is a bad idea. Drives me fucking nuts.

Look here's the bottom: Your fetus, your choice. My fetus, my choice. If you don't want to do the NT, then don't. It has absolutely zero impact on my life. I could care less to be honest.

So....no need to tell me about "false positive" that your sister's neighbour's cousin's boss had and therefore, you think the NT is to be avoided because of this "false positive" idea.

Or, that " if you wouldn't abort anyway" there is no need for it. Good for you. But who said anything about terminating? Being prepared does not automatically = termination.

I for one am a fan of testing. I like to know what I am potentially up against. If an NT had come up with a less than favourable result, we would have gone on to more testing to get a more conclusive result.
.
Look up the word "choice" if you are having difficulty with the definition. I don't judge people who don't have the NT because....

::drumroll::

It's your choice. See a trend here?

My rant today. Get some patience.

2010-04-20T09:17:00.000-07:00

Sometimes people annoy me. I know I am pretty laid back to begin with, but I can get irritated by the lack of patience people have.

At present, I am irritated by some pregnant people on message boards.

First they'll go on and on about how the 2ww is killing them while they wait to find out that they are pregnant. That is just the beginning. Then it's OMG the ultrasound is SO far away! Then onward to when I will I ever SHOW.... I want a BUMP! Then OMG I NEED to know the sex of this baby!

Onwards and onwards until....

I need this kid out NOW! Why am I still pregnant?!!?!?

Now, I completely understand anxiety over early pregnancy and things to do with testing, etc.

But seriously. There is no way on EARTH you'll be pregnant a year from now. So can you relax a tad? It's only 9 months. You'll live. And think about that fabulous prize at the end of it all.

Next thing you'll blink and they'll be graduating from high school. Ask any parent.

So instead of wishing every day away and complaining about how the next thing can't happen soon enough...can you just be a little patient?

I've said it before. We've turned into an instant gratification society.

I am reminded of this. Watch it beginning to end (yes, that takes patience!). The last couple of minutes in particular are very good. (Youtube).

Everything's Amazing and Nobodys Happy

Skinny Bitch: Bun in the Oven

2010-04-12T09:26:00.000-07:00

Pregnant woman have a strong desire to do everything "right". And much of that focuses on diet. With that in mind, I read "Skinny Bitch Bun in the Oven, A Gutsy Guide to Becoming One Hot and Healthy Mother".

This book is nothing more than an in-your-face, thinly disguised slam against the dairy and meat industries. Oh, and a massive guilt trip. It purports to give advice about health and nutrition, but all it really does it take a large sledge hammer to the heads of the readers.

"Decide right now what kind of mom you want to be. Loving or lacking."

That's one of the milder admonishments. I'll spare you quotes from the "Slaughterhouse" section; the graphic descriptions of cows being beaten to death with lead pipes, and live hogs being dragged around by giant hooks that are rammed up their asses.

Charming, non?

Apparently, if I eat any meat or dairy products - even organic - my child and I are in for a life of cancer, diabetes, obesity, birth defects and God knows what else.

Really? Just because I don't want to suddenly go vegan?

Everyone is entitled to their opinion. God knows we all have one. So why did this book bug me? Because these two use scare tactics to guilt-trip pregnant women. Essentially, they berate readers.

They have tons to say about what not to eat, and lots of threats to throw around, but almost zero advice on what one would actually do to eat a bit better. It's basically this: Switch to being a vegan RIGHT NOW.....or your child is doomed. Delightful.

I am usually a fan of edgy writing, I applaud authors not afraid to provoke readers. All the more power to people who take a stand. I also have a deep respect for vegans. But I think this book goes too far with the militant lashings.

And the last fucking thing pregnant chicks need is more worry and guilt.

Oh.....and I had to laugh: The fine print at the beginning of the book has the big ol' disclaimer: Above all else, follow your own physician's advice. I can't imagine my doctor telling me that now is a FABULOUS time to make a radical switch to veganism. And that I am a shitty, selfish human being if I don't.

OTF: Installment #3. "She was spending the summer on her knees anyway".

2010-04-09T10:41:00.000-07:00

Still catching up on posting the previous installments, then onto the new ones. You can look back to Feb/March for #s 1 and 2.

Crazy Acres. It's a posh neighborhood with alot going on. If you don't know about Over the Fence, read here: Over The Fence Explained.

Installment #3:

1. Betsy the Smoker and her SUAH (stick up arse husband) are apparently "working it out". I am unclear if that means a) she's back to hiding the pot smoking or b) she told him she has quit. She was helping me plant flowers the other day and drinking vodka from her Lululemon water bottle. Therefore, I am going to go with c) - she's given up the weed in favour of the booze.

Either way, she's still got those glossy eyes. SUAH probably hasn't threatened the D word lately. I am sure this is entirely due to the fact his lawyers are still mulling over the prenup.

2. "Battle Royale" erupted between Susan and Nanny 2 weeks ago. Nanny apparently wants 2 nights off a week. This does not coincide with Susan's plan to take "Learn to Botox Yourself at Home" or whatever she does with her time.

Apparently Susan's husband had to moderate the battle and each party has been given 1 week to come back to the bargaining table with a proposal. I can't wait to see how this turns out. Nanny is my new hero.

3. The hobag youngster is being shipped off to Summer Bible Camp. She was spending the summer on her knees one way or the other. At least with this turn of events her lips will be raised in prayer instead of forming an "O".

4. The two half wits (Jungle Legs and Cross Eye) are installing a water feature on their lawn. I do believe it's a giant sparkled fish that shoots water out of it's mouth into a fish pond. Charming. If your village is short an idiot - we'll be happy to share.

5. I'm still watching the new people. Stay tuned.

* All of the characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental.