Tiny clothes of all varieties (and a lot of caps lock)

So, my sister B is having a huge fundraising garage/yard sale thingy to raise money for the Leukemia Lymphoma Society Run that she's doing. Since I do a closet purge twice a year anyway, this is a perfect motivator to get it done early. Plus, it's just a few days after the ultrasound where a hopefully cooperative Clover will stop being a squirmy squid for long enough for us to get a look at the business district thus clarifying the lady baby/not lady baby question.

However, because it's only a few days after said ultrasound, I don't want to wait until we get "fetus with a penis" green or red light to sort through the 4 gigantic boxes of baby clothes sitting in Eleanor's closet. So I'm pre-sorting. Which is leading to lots of piles.
There's a nostalgic/family heirloom pile for the things I just can't part with (and right now, it's impressively small. So, you know, go me!).
There's a pile of "things from the Internet to pass on to my other Internet friend having a lady baby 2 weeks before Clover arrives."
There's a pile of things that need to be re-washed due to some mysteriously appearing stains after being in storage for a year.
There's a pile of things to go to B immediately.
There's a pile of stuff to go to B only if this baby is a boy.
There's a pile of gender neutral stuff that I'll keep no matter what.

Speaking of which, deciding if something is gender neutral has been harder than I imagined. It's not just about colors, though the majority of Eleanor's pink stuff is covered in flowers, butterflies, hearts, ruffles, lace, and things that say "girl" or "princess" or whatever. That's fairly obvious. It's things that look girly because they're surrounded by girl things. A black onesie with purple stitching can totally be worn by a boy baby. I just had to move it over to the pile of green, blue, yellow, orange and red things to see it as a boy shirt. Next to all the pink, purple, lacy, ruffled stuff, it looked too girly. Also, I remember my little girl wearing it, so sometimes it's hard to picture a boy baby wearing it instead. And this isn't to open some huge can of worms about gender politics or preferences, or any of that*. Just trying to get some clothes sorted.

Then I went to sort our laundry because the pile is about to become sentient and eat me alive in my sleep. Usually I sort things into 2 categories--sheeets/towels/linens & everything else. It all gets washed on cold, regular and we go from there. I don't have anything super delicate or whatever that needs special attention. Or if I do, I'm not doing that. I have a very blunt no-fuss attitude towards clothes. Some things get laid flat/hung to dry and that's the extent of effort I'm willing to put in. (This is why we can't have nice things)

However, I've been frustrated recently by a strange laundry phenomenon. Due to some unexplained hijinx in the putting-clothes-into-the-hamper arena, when I grab a pile of laundry to wash, things tend to wind up very... disproportional. Most loads are 93% J's clothes, 6% my clothes and 1% miscellaneous baby socks & whatnot. Now, seeing as how both Eleanor & I own AT LEAST 3 times as much clothing as my husband, EACH (and that's without exaggerating), I'm not sure quite how this is possible. SO, I decided to sort things into his/hers/mine piles. I wound up with 3 loads of J clothes. 1.5 loads on my clothes. 1 load of Eleanor clothes and 1 load each of sheets and towels.

Then I loaded up he washing machine and it wouldn't turn on, at which point I panicked and flailed and thought some really bad words until I remembered that I had unplugged it to plug in the vacuum so I could clean my car yesterday, but lo and behold the thing was still plugged in. I tested the garage door opener that shares an outlet and IT worked. I tried switching which plug was in which hole and that didn't help. Then I discovered that I hadn't unplugged the washing machine directly. I'd unplugged a power strip/surge protector thingy that it was plugged into. Flipped the switch on that and BEHOLD! The clothes began to wash. Hooray.

And while I'm talking about clothes, I'm going to rant about pants some more, because I don't do that enough. One of the benefits of losing some weight in between babies is that I finally bumped down into the "able to buy maternity pants that fit my butt and touch my toes" section. I hoped this was the case, and dragged my husband & baby to a maternity store to test my theory. I tried on the exact pants that I tried to buy last time I was all knocked up and could barely get above my knees and this time! THEY FIT! HOORAY! I shall buy all the pants! Except, no. Because they only had 1 pair on XL Long in stock. ONE PAIR. Now, to be fair, there are only 2 styles of pants that come in long length in that store, and it's summer when most people want shorts or crops anyway. But I already have 2 pairs of maternity capri pants. I wanted JEANS. It was going to be my TRIUMPH. So, I was going to get this one pair of jeans, only... and there's always an only with me, they're skinny jeans. Now, nevermind the mind-bend of ME buying something labeled "Skinny." Let's leave the terminology alone and just talk about the style. I know lots of ladies who wear skinny jeans and IN THEORY but I'd never actually put any on my body. I resist even "straight leg." I prefer bootcut, though I own no boots that I would put under my pants to necessitate ownin bootcut jeans. I just like the look of them. Something about balancing my extra wide hips and general pear** shapedness. Nevertheless, I bought the pants because... well... TRIUMPH! I then proceeded to call every store that carried that brand of maternity pants within a reasonable driving distance (and since I go to Ft. Worth often enough to see my folks, that distance is about 50 miles, at least to the west) to see if ANYONE had the bootcut in an XL Long. Nope. No. Not a single one. XS Long, sure. But that's the wrong Extra. So. I have skinny jeans. And the over-the-belly-panel starts at roughly my c-section scar, which is much lower than I'm comfortable with, but my shirts cover it all anyway, so I'm just going to sit back and enjoy my TRIUMPH! Pants!

*Babies and gender is a much bigger topic and one I'll probably not tackle on the internet, but rather just discuss with my friends over beverages of deliciousness, but here. A picture of Eleanor in a pink & purple dress her grandparents bought her in Greece, playing with trucks.

**Why oh why is it that when things go horribly wrong, they're said to have gone "pear shaped"? If I could work up the G.A.S. I'd be offended, I think. 

Totally in denial

The other day, I got a great compliment. 2 ladies whom I love, when I turned down an alcoholic beverage, said, "Oh, I forgot you were pregnant." This is nice for me to hear, as it confirms my belief that I am more than just a fetus-growing apparatus.  My life is about more than just making a baby, but it's still nice to hear that from people who see me on a regular basis. Then, at a restaurant, I was talking to the mother of another toddler while our progeny played in the waiting area, and she asked if we had thought about having any more kids. I said I was due in November and she said I didn't even look pregnant! Hooray!

Now I'm going to do nothing but talk about myself and my fetus, so you know... there's that.

Last time I did this whole pregnant thing, I didn't take any pictures of myself until around 22 weeks. I just couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that I was getting bigger. Because of the shape of my hudge, I never had a round belly, so I never felt like I looked identifiably pregnant until... 37, 38 weeks. In denial, I know.

So this time around, I'm trying to take more pictures. And this time around I'm seeing the difference in pictures that I don't register daily with my eyeballs.

6 weeks-why so yellow?

14 weeks

18 weeks

So now I've gotten to the point where I'm not really comfortable hiding the hudge anymore. I still don't feel like I look pregnant--possibly because what is sticking out is the reorganization of my intestines, spleen, and liver, not baby yet. Honestly, I feel like I look like I did before I lost all the weight that I put on before getting pregnant the first time. In the midst of a quite successful (for me) round of Biggest Blogging Loser, 10 weeks into a 12 week weight loss thingy, I peed on a stick, and thus stopped trying to lose weight. Now, due to some first trimester hijinx, I didn't stop losing right away. I have managed to hold steady since my 8 week appointment, which pleases me. If I can make it to the third trimester with the majority of my 11-20 lbs still to gain, that would be great. I managed it with Eleanor, and that's the only reason that I was able to be back at my pre-pregnancy weight the day after I got home from the hospital. 11 lbs gained, minus 8.5 lb baby, fluid, etc., etc., etc. Wow, I've really gotten off topic now. 

I'm trying to wear things that help bridge the gap from feeling "just fat" to looking "halfway pregnant." Well, I'm all the way pregnant, but halfway through the process, ish, in 2 weeks. Anyway, I've stopped trying to hide the hudge and now I'm trying to accentuate the hudge. This is... still a foreign concept to me. I look in the mirror and don't see any differences. I look at these pictures and realize how much my brain is lying to me. Also that I seem to have my dress on backwards in one of them... hrmmm

Also, on Saturday I felt little squirmy squid squirm. It's just as neat this time as it was last time. Hooray!

Here at 18 weeks, Clover is clocking in at approximately 7oz, and roughly the size of a bell pepper. So sayeth my e-mail. Other than still being more tired than I'd like, I'm feeling pretty good these days. Eating better, and feeling like eating more. I'm trying to be more consistent with my yoga too, especially since I've been noticing more soreness as muscles start moving out of the way and all that jazz.