Like mother, like daughter

This picture (due to flash) does not accurately portray the joy & wiggling that happened when I busted out my old 96 box of crayons. And I do mean old. I got that box in high school. For the fun of it. And put all 96 in rainbow order. So far (and I'm not holding my breath) she's been her usual determined self and is pretty good at only taking one crayon at a time. They're not in the exact order I put them in anymore, but they're still grouped together well. Coloring is a pretty recent addition to our daily routine and I probably enjoy it WAY more than she does at the moment but her excitement when I get the crayons out makes me so happy.

Little games

I like computer games. I have since I was a wee Bean. Kindercomp was one of my favorite things to play, though I skipped the math sections to spend extra time drawing. We had a fun tank game called Scortched Earth which taught me about trajectory and that "May the fleas of one thousand camels infest your hide" was an appropriate curse.

I am spectacularly bad at video games, however. I stuck to computers. Puzzle games like Tetris & Bejeweled. Oh, and Alchemy. Not the one where you combine whenever elements to make stuff, but the PopCaps version with the astrological symbols. You can see why Candy Crush appeals to me. (I'm currently on level 419. I'm both proud & disturbed.)

My husband introduced me to World of Warcraft and I got to be pretty good at that. The dress up factor speaks to me. So I have to kill some dudes to get a new dress. I'm fine with that in the pixilated world.

All of this to get to Grim Fandango. My brother have me a copy of this game when I was in college. It's set in the afterlife, Day of the Dead style. Our hero, Manny Calavera, is a travel agent whose job is to help souls navigate to the blissful hereafter. If you've been good, you can take a fast train. If not, your options range from cruise ship, bus, car, all the way down to walking stick. It's very clever and puzzle-esque in that you have to gather clues to solve the mystery to figure out what to do next. "Look pigeons, it's Robert Frost!" OK, that's only funny in context but trust me it's a hoot.

Sadly, I never finished the game. It runs on Windows98. But I still have the disc because I can't get rid of anything. And tonight I learned that you can play it in Windows 7. And there was much rejoicing. Now to unearth my copy and get back to Manny & the pigeons.

Rounding Up

One of the things that I was a little sad about when pregnant with Eleanor is that I never got satisfyingly round. I had 2 bellies (divided by my belly button) and the top belly was pointy. I started this pregnancy quite pointy as well. I think it's just the way I carry weight in general.

Starting this pregnancy 20+ lb lighter than I started Eleanor's has made a big difference. I was able to buy maternity jeans (which fall right off my slopey belly & irritate the snot out of me). I'm able to still button my pre-pregnancy pants, because I never bought a size to accommodate my new weight before. And again, this baby rides high, all above my belly button, so really, the only thing my pants are containing is the post-c-section-fat-flap we all know and love. Except the opposite of that. Anyway, pants. It's an ongoing rant. For the past few weeks though I've been catching glimpses of myself in the mirror and thinking "whoa, I look pregnant. From the front!" which is new and exciting for me.

Just in the past week though, the great roundening of 2013 has happened. All of a sudden (to me) I'm ROUND. I have a ROUND belly. I look like a pregnant lady. I'm round and round and round. I'm very excited about this. I'm still round above my belly button with 2 bellies, but whatever. ROUND! Can you tell I'm excited?

Also, wearing a giraffe print scarf, because I can. And a hat, because I didn't shower that morning. 

So, I'm on track to go all the way to my due date, which is fine. I'm prepared. I'm not even uncomfortable. Getting up & down off the floor is a bit arduous, but I'm so much more comfortable this time around than last time, and even last time I remember thinking that physical discomfort wasn't the reason I wanted to be done being pregnant. I wanted to be done because I wanted to meet my baby. That's where I am now. I want to meet this little man. And stuff him in a cornucopia, because apparently holiday babies in baskets is a thing I do. 

Last time at this stage of the game I was (and had been for quite some time) having nightly 1-Tums heartburn. Nothing major, but it was a thing that was there. I had an incredibly uncomfortable & incurable rash of doom that I'd had for the entirity of the third trimester that peeled off like snake-skin days after Eleanor was born. I was getting carpel tunnel in both hands. And yet I remember thinking that the pregnancy part wasn't so bad. It WASN'T! I'm oddly good at being pregnant, which sounds like bragging but how can you brag about something you have no control over? Eleanor is made of chicken nuggets and french fries and I still only gained 11 lb. That's not superior pregnant-ladying, that's just good luck. I've puked once each pregnancy, and both times it wasn't because of morning sickness, but other external factors (a reaction to antibiotics & a virus). That's not superior pregnant-ladying, that's just good luck. I'm lucky. And so very grateful. My pregnancy with Eleanor was easy, and this time it's even easier. That's just good luck. I'm not better or special. I have no secret 12-step plan to happy, healthy pregnancies. If I did, I'd write that book and be rich forever. Somehow I don't think endorsing McDonald's drive-thru and naps is really a best-seller. 

Now, if only I were as good at getting babies out as I am at carrying them around, eh?

The Basket

One of the best pieces of advice that I got for making it through the first few weeks with a newborn was to have a basket. Not to put the baby in, although places to put the baby was not something I realized I needed until another mom mentioned it and so I got a swing and a chair thing and a playmat, all of which got plenty of use.

No, the basket is full of the stuff you need all the time so you don't have to run to the nursery for every diaper change/feeding.

Diapers
Wipes
Butt cream
Changing pad
Nursing pads
Lanolin
Burp cloth
A water bottle
A granola bar or two (for the MUST EAT ALL THE THINGS that strikes two seconds after you get the baby quieted down)

Then you just grab the basket when you change rooms, or you can have whomever is near fetch the basket without having to give directions for all the things your going to need in the next 5 minutes which may or may not be scattered all round the house. It's a brilliant idea and I wish I remembered who suggested it because they deserve a gold star.

I can't find the basket I used with Eleanor but luckily I'm a basket hoarder so I have many to choose from. It's mostly stocked and ready to go. One more thing to cross off the list of "to do before baby" things. I'm actually almost done with that list. I might be ready to have this baby next week.

The numbers

It's 11-12-13. I suppose in other parts of the world it's 12-11-13, which is both less fun and doesn't serve my purposes. Today would be a great day to have a baby because that's a fun birthday.

Lots of people will have babies today. I'm not one of them. I never really expected to go into labor earlier than 40w but if I did, I wanted it to be today.

Other interesting to possibly no one but me numbers: At 39 weeks pregnant, I'm back to my STARTING weight in Eleanor's pregnancy... wait, gestation. Eleanor wasn't pregnant. I was. Grammar confounds me some times. My total weight gain for this pregnancy so far is more than I gained the whole time with Eleanor, but still within my "acceptable" guidelines so I'm trying not to worry about that part.

I'll be having this baby just a little more than one month after my 33rd birthday. My mother had me almost a month after HER 33rd birthday.

By my calculations, I'm officially 9 months pregnant now. Pregnancy math can get weird because they start counting weeks before anything has really happened, so while I haven't actually been carrying this baby for a full 9 months, it's been 9 months since things got started, in the cyclical sense. Feb 11th, when I gave up being un-pregnant for Lent. Which sort of makes this my tenth month of pregnancy, but I'm not 10 months pregnant because nope. A month is not 4 weeks so even though there are 40 weeks of pregnancy they are still only 9 months. And some spare days/weeks, give our take. But I guess if you count from when the baby actually started growing it's closer to exactly 9 months.

I'm not wearing real pants until after this baby is born. Nothing but yoga pants & maxi dresses until the end!

What do I know

A million years ago, or some time shortly after the turn off the century, I went to lunch with a friend. Some place that served calzones, which is completely irrelevant to the story, but the kind of detail my brain holds on to. It wasn't really a pivotal, life changing lunch, but the conversation we had that day has stuck with me over the years.

The gist of it can be boiled down to this: some boys struggle with body image issues and some girls struggle with lust. Neither of those sentences should be revolutionary, but I'm telling you that at the time, my friend and I were both astounded. Neither of those statements by themselves was shocking or unbelievable. They sounded perfectly reasonable and understandable, but I don't think I'd ever actually thought them. They'd never crossed my mind to evaluate.

It's not as though I thought that boys cared nothing for their appearances. My friend was (is probably still) a handsome and fashionable dude. With really great hair. Like truly amazing. Thing of beauty I tell you. Anyway, stylish and good looking. He obviously thought about things like having a hairstyle not just a hair cut. He cared what shirt he wore with which pants. Fine. Sure. Makes sense. What never occurred to me was that he might look in the mirror and not like the body he put those clothes on. That particular thought was, in my mind at the time, solely a struggle of women. I didn't think about the fact that he grew up in a world of Abercrombie & Fitch, a world that had definite ideas about what "real men" should look like. I was too busy worrying about my too flat butt, too wide hips, unflat stomach, thighs that touched, and 900 other things that didn't line up with the images I was seeing. Intellectually I knew that dieting and eating disorders weren't just women's things, but I couldn't wrap my brain around the kind of body loathing I was used to from my girl friends affecting a boy. Especially not this stylish and attractive one. Just like he couldn't imagine girls struggling with lust. Now, it's not as if he thought all women were sexless creatures, or even that "good girls" didn't think like that. He'd been around enough to know that we girls oogled as much as any. I think he, like me, just couldn't see past a culture that said boys are the ones who struggle to keep it in their pants. Girls don't have that problem because even if they want sex, they have superior self-control.

This is getting way deeper than I have the brain power to articulate and do justice to. I was getting to a point with all this and I think it's about U2.

No really, stick with me. I'll get there. So, this particular lunch conversation over calzones helped open my eyes to the fact that some basic assumptions I had about life were wrong and needed to be challenged, that I needed to look beyond my own selfish world view and stop asking that everyone's experiences be just like mine, or that their conclusions based on their experience would align with mine. It was a conversation that made me question the way I looked at the world and people. OK, so that's point one.

The U2 thing is like this: Not everyone likes U2. Well, yes that's true but that's not my point. Of course there are people who don't like U2. Nothing has universal appeal, even things I really, really like. There are even people who don't like chocolate. Rather it's more that I have friends who don't like U2. This is a somewhat strange concept to me. Not that U2 is the end all, be all of my life (they're not, but don't tell 16yr old me that), but for a long time I really believed that friends had to have the same interests and preferences or you couldn't really be friends. I thought disagreement on things like music or movies was a grievous fault. So, I knew that there were people in the world who didn't like my favorite band. I didn't expect everyone to love them as much as I did. There was a time when all 6 discs in my stereo were U2 CDs. I could name every band member, their significant other, and give you the names & ages of their offspring. I've since reallocated some of those brain cells, but you understand now the depth of my... devotion to this band. I knew that most people didn't give half as many squats about them as I did, but none of my friends actively disliked them. At worst they passively didn't care. And that was fine.

Then one day, when I was about 30 years old, I found out that my friend Carrie didn't like U2. Not just didn't care, but actively tuned the radio station AWAY from U2 songs. I think I already knew that my best friend Andrew, with whom music was sort of our common language, didn't like the song "Beautiful Day" but he didn't hate all the other U2 songs, so it was OK. But Carrie didn't like ANY U2 songs. This was shocking to me. I wouldn't say that our CD collections were similar, but she always picked good music for dance class and we shared some mix tapes (on CD or jump drive, but whatever, I will probably always call them mix tapes). But she hated my favorite band. What's more surprising: we're still friends! I didn't shun her or run screaming. I think I said "huh" and moved on.

So, the revolutionary thought here is this: you can be friends with people you disagree with. I mean, you probably want to agree the on the BASICS, like human dignity and treating others with respect, but politics, religion, music? You can disagree and still be friends. Not just agree to disagree & tolerate each other politely. Real friends. Who hang out. And invite each other to their parties. And LIKE one another. It took me 30 years to figure that one out.

Learning curve

Yesterday I had a FitBit Flex. Apparently I don't do bracelets well & J wanted a display on his thingy, so now we have Ones. Again. Only mine is pink this time. They say "burgundy", but come on. It's pink. Let's see if I can go more than 10 days this time without ruining another expensive piece of equipment.

I'm at the point in this pregnancy where I have to start every phone call to my mother with "I'm not in labor." It's not that she's the anxious type, but she is my designated Eleanor watcher while I go get this new baby born, so she does have a reason to be antsy. She also helped me get my whole kitchen whipped into shape. And listened to me ramble about marriage & being a mom, which must sound pretty silly coming from me. She's been married 44 years and raised 2 grown kids. She's the best listener in the whole world though. I'm so lucky to have her.

My dad had a birthday. He's 66 now. That number doesn't seem to fit the image I had in my head of how old that would be. It sounds old. My dad isn't old, he's awesome. And continuing to kick cancer's stupid butt. So that's good.

I'm dog sitting for my brother's dog Tukko next week. He's the prettiest dog in the world. He, however, does not have a toddler in his house, so he's not used to the rules of "just because it's at your level doesn't mean you can eat it" that our dog Puca has learned. Honestly, it's a good time for Eleanor to learn not to wave her snacks in the faces of the beasties.

My husband just tried to blame his snoring on the dog. My poor, patient, long-suffering, sweet-hearted dog. I'm not buying it.

One of these days I'm going to do a whole post and not re-correct auto-correct and see what happens. One day when I'm brave. Or lazy.

I'm also at the stage of this pregnancy where I refuse to put on real pants. Yoga pants until the end! Which is in no more than 16 days. 9 until the official due date. Eleanor was 4 days late. Maybe this one will be earlier. I just want to be home from the hospital before Thanksgiving. Which is being cooked for me in my house by my fantastic family. My brother is a whiz at gravy. But I should buy some Wondra.

There is no unifying thought or theme here. Just some randomness from today. Oh, I also learned that my hair is now if a length that cannot be slept on wet. I've always been able to combat the bed-head before. This is no longer true, and when they're no saving ponytail to fall back on... well, I guess I'll finally have to learn to be a morning shower-er.

Trying again

So apparently, running over my FitBit with a car wasn't enough to get me out of having one.

Which is awesome, because I really liked it.

J got us both FitBit Flexes. He says I can't run over my own wrist with a car. True. And I guess the Flex is much less likely to fall off my wrist than the One was to come unhooked from my bra.  So now I'm back to tracking steps. And this one will track my sleep. That should be a hoot.

I set out on a goal this year to walk 500 miles. Before I got pregnant. And I know that women all across the whatever do all sorts of amazing feats of fitness while pregnant, and a measly 1.3 miles a day is actually a very small goal and no where near the 10,000 step marker that they say you're supposed to get, but it's been a bit of a challenge. I did great in the spring, talking walks with Eleanor in her stroller. Then it got hot and I got more pregnant. Or neighborhood walks went the way of the dodo. Walking became a thing we did at Target & the grocery store. Thankfully, the 8 weekends of running about at Scarborough Renaissance Festival really helped and I'm still mostly on track.

But sometime in the next 2 weeks, there's a baby who is getting his wee butt born. I have a feeling that might throw me off track a bit. I'm trying to gain a little momentum these last few days. If only multiple trips to the bathroom counted, I'd be set! Maybe I'll wind up pacing at night with a fussy baby. I'm not sure that's how I want to get my steps in either.

To change the subject, Eleanor is getting much better at operating my phone. The other day she managed to not only tweet a random string of letters, but she must have swiped enough that autocorrect filled in "blogger blogger" at the end of her tweet. Also, she's been taking some STUNNING photos of her daily life.

 An artist in the making? We'll just have to wait and see.

Family photos

So, I had a very busy day. My mom came & we cleaned and organized the house like a couple of super awesome ladies, which we are.

But I am wiped out. So I don't have lots of words to say. What I do have is some pictures we took tonight. Eleanor's "Halloween" pictures & some family/maternity pictures. So here. Look at my family.

Learning the lingo

I have yet to learn the right combination of words to tell a hair dresser what I want and then get that. I've got "angled bob" down, but there's something about "stacking" and "layering" that I don't understand. Also, when I say below my chin, I get at my chin. When I say collar bone I get at my chin. I don't have enough hair to say below my shoulders hoping to get some where between my shoulders & my chin.

I feel like I've been semi-adventurous with my hair over the years. I've been all the shades of red that come in boxes in addition to the several shades of red that my hair has naturally been as I get older. I've been a brunette once or twice. Now my hair is sort of in between colors. I haven't dyed it since... The Blathering 2011. I've done some highlights, but not all over color. So what I've got now, as short as it is, is just me. It's... not at all the color I think of as my natural one. I think I'm still stuck on the sort of dirty copper/ golden red/not strawberry blonde but not ginger red that I grew up with. My hair is much darker now. Auburn? Maybe, but not quite red enough for that I think. I keep thinking I'll dye it back to what I remember, but that snacks of effort that I don't have right now.

In an interesting side note, I did help my husband dye his hair a few weeks ago. The haunted house he was working at was black & white this year. Like, everything in the haunt, including the actors, was shades of grey, so J decided to dye his already dark brown hair black to make things easier. I actually went to visit J, with Eleanor, at the haunted house on closing night. We went right as they opened, which is usually her bedtime, and got basically a private show. I don't really do scary things, but there's no one at that house that I don't know, since they're folks I work with at Scarborough Faire. That makes it safe. Eleanor was a champ & took the whole thing in stride.

Anyway, I got my hair cut. It's shorter than I ever thought I'd cut it again, but I like it. I miss ponytails & buns, but this is as wash & wear as it gets, which is really what I need right now.

4am is the worst

I'm more familiar with the 4 am hour than I ever wanted to be. After college, I got a job working at the local TV station, doing production graphics for the morning & midday news shows. I worked 4-1pm. I had to go to bed by about 6pm to be functional. I missed my non-work friends, though having the grocery store largely to myself in the afternoon was nice.. 

There's this annoying sleep pattern thing that I've developed as an adult. I get woken up around 3:30/4 and then can't get back to sleep until after 6.  Something about sleep cycles or some such. I don't know. When working a regular 8-5 job, it's the worst. Just when the sleepy creeps back in, the alarm goes off. Bad words are uttered. Grumbling ensues. It's also the worst when you have a newborn. They wake up, you feed them, they go back to their adorable, tiny person sleep and you... stare at them wishing desperately to be asleep too. Just as you drift off, they're awake & asking to be feed again. So basically, it's just the worst.

Last night, I woke up around 1 for my first potty break. Then I had some contractions for a few hours. (Spoiler alert: I didn't have a baby today.) Then it was 4 am and I knew there would be no sleep, so I watched the latest episode of the Korean Drama that Temerity Jane got me hooked on and wow. Dude. Totally worth it. Kim Tan forever. (Heirs. It's on Hulu. Go watch.)

Then there was the drama of the missing cat. I realized that Ruzulka, who only started sleeping with us in the past 2 years (of her 4 year life), hasn't been to bed the past 2 night & I couldn't remember seeing her all day. Or the day before. So at 5 am I went searching for her, waking up Eleanor in the process. There was much wailing & gnashing of teeth. Eleanor cried too. It took about an hour to get her comforted & settled back in her bed. At which point my husband's alarms started going off. And I started crying because the tired had caught up to me & I still couldn't find my cat. I'm feeling wretched for not noticing she was missing all day, but she is the least social of our cats and spends her days hidden in window sills or curled up under things. I'm imaging the horror of having to tell our friend who RESCUED these kittens from the harsh elements that I LOST one of the kittens they entrusted us with. And, well, she's kind of my favorite.

Now, I don't have a favorite cat, except I do. Banshee is my favorite because she's my cranky old lady cat with Resting Bitch Face. She purrs loud enough to be heard rooms away & comes to the living room when we watch TV, only to settle in with her face to the wall. She's the best & most patient with Eleanor, which surprised us all.

Except Valkyrie is also my favorite because she likes to be wherever I am & always snuggles me when I sleep. She also has a purr to be heard for miles & she talks back when you pet her. She's consistent.

But Ruzulka is my real favorite. She's the reddest of our tabbies. She has an orange ring on her tail, but just one. She's the softest & fluffiest of our cats. She's also the best snuggler. You can readjust her & she'll stay snuggled up, unlike the other 2 persnickety ladies. She, like Eleanor, likes to get in my way anytime I have to go to the bathroom. She has the tiniest & quietest purr I've ever heard & it's a treat to get to hear it.

So it's nearly 6 in the morning. I'm sobbing about my lost cat, my non- sleeping baby, and my fruitless contractions when IN COMES 'ZULKA! She had been sleeping in Bagel's room the whole time! All is well that ends well I suppose, but man. 4 am is the worst!

'Zulka, Valkyrie & Banshee

Not to be trusted

Forget the Eye of Sauron, what should really strike fear into the heart of the stout and the brave is Target.

Oh don't give me that look. You know what I mean.

"I just need undershirts for the husband." she said.
"And shoes for the baby."
"And maybe some half-price leftover Halloween candy."
"And this would be a great nursing nightgown."
"Oh, might as well look for some Crappy Day Presents while I'm here."
"Hey, look, 70% off clearance rack!"
"What a beautiful crock pot..."

And before you know it, your cart is full, your bank account is empty and you have no where to put all the stinking adorable shoes you bought. ON CLEARANCE.

 But it's a good thing I bought shoes, because we sacrificed a shoe to the great beast with the red bullseye in order to escape without adding a new purse, a sweater dress, a hooded Batman onesie (with Bat-belt detail) (in adult size), and some striped union suit pajamas.

 But look at these RIDICULOUS shoes. High-top Converse!! Pink & purple with sparkly laces!! And they zip up the inside, because NO WAY am I strapping Eleanor into lace-up high tops on a daily basis. Zippers we can manage. Seriously, if they'd had these shoes in my size I'd be wearing them from now until they fell apart.

Control freak

Few things expose my deep desire to control my life and circumstances like being pregnant. Or getting pregnant. Or pregnancy in general. So much is just not controllable. You take the steps, do your part, and even with charting & stuff, there's no guarantee that all the science will result in the miracle of life. Then, after peeing on stuff, you can't guarantee that things stay where they're supposed to. It should be comforting. You take care of you & the rest is out of your control.

It's not comforting. It's scary & if something does happen (which it does, way too often, to too many people I love), it's almost impossible to stop the "what-ifs." You blame yourself, even if you know, logically, that there's nothing you can do.

Then there's the end of the road. No woman has stayed pregnant forever. That's the first piece of "advice" they gave us in our Preparation for Childbirth class. It's true. The other truth is that you can't make labor happen. Well, modern medicine can. With a whole host of drugs to trick your body into doing what you want. But ye olde average lady, at home, waiting, can do nothing. Despite the advice & wisdom of every well-meaning old wives' tale, you just can't guarantee when labor will start. When the baby is good and ready, that's when.

I'm not in a rush. I have a long list of things I'd like to get done before this baby arrives. Like organize the pantry. And get a hair cut. But I see the doctor every week now. And every week she checks to see if there are any signs of impending labor. There were no signs with Eleanor. Even 2 days before labor started, no hints. And I have friends who wandered around dilated for WEEKS before their babies were born, so I understand that it's all kinda a crap shoot.

For me & my peace of mind, I'd like to see some signs of progress. Clover has turned his head towards the exit which is good news. I'm dreaming of a baby born on 11-12-13 but realistically expect to go all the way to 40w again. I don't mind. A Scorpio or Sagittarius is all the same to me. I'd like to be home with my new baby before Thanksgiving, but that's my only real rush.

It's just a time of waiting. We all know how good I am at that. He'll arrive when he's good and ready and not a moment sooner. I just hope he's kinder about his entrance than his sister. Bagels had me sort of outline my Barbie-Dream-World version of things, ranking the stuff that's most important to me, to help me keep perspective.

Obviously, healthy baby & healthy me are top on the list.

Next in line is going into labor. Since I had a c-section with Eleanor, all those wonderful drugs and tools of modern medicine are off the table. There will be no inducing labor. Either it happens, or at 41w we head to the OR to take this baby out like toast. So, I'd like to at least start laboring.

If I can check that off the list, next in line is completing labor. Birthing a baby. No surgery.

If we get that far, then I don't really care how. Epidural? Sure, if I need it. I'm not holding out for an all natural birth though I want to wait as long as possible so I can keep walking & moving (which I didn't get to do much with Eleanor).

If we don't get that far, I'd like to get as least as far as last time. Maybe even try pushing. And there is a part of me that is just rolling my eyes, because major surgery after long, exhausting, unproductive labor is exactly my least favorite option when it comes to birth plans. Still, peace of mind isn't always rational. Trying is very important to me, even if I try & fail.

Now, I'm not a glutton for punishment. I think I have a pretty reasonable response to pain and suffering. I try to avoid it when I can. I bite back bad words when I stub my toe. Paper cuts and hang nails turn me into a big whiny baby. Despite what my pharmacist father may think, wanting an unmedicated birth isn't, for me, about hating drugs or liking pain. It's just about seeing what my body can do & working to do as much as possible. Letting gravity help get this baby down and out is something I'm really looking forward to. If I could do that and still have epidural-level pain relief I'd take that option in a heartbeat.

Bottom line, end of the day, I just want to meet my baby. The rest is less important. Not trivial but not critical either. Walking the fine line between hoping for a VBAC & being mentally & emotionally prepared for a second c-section is hard. Hope & realism don't sit easily with me. I don't want to assume that I'll end up in surgery because I'm afraid of self-fulfilling prophecy stuff. I also don't want to be so focused on the how of the birth that I let those feelings rob me of joy if things don't go the way I want.

So I'm praying. That's the one part I can control--my attitude. Can't make my body or this baby do anything but I can turn my heart towards my Creator and put my trust in Him. He's got this all under control. He knows the plan. I just need to live it. Much easier said than done. Thankfully lots of other people are praying for me too. I think it's gonna take all the prayers we can get.

When you say it on the Internet

So, as with most things baby/sleep related, if you tell the Internet, the exact opposite will begin to happen.

So here's Eleanor. Sleeping on her pillow. Like a tiny human.

Pillows: You're doing it wrong.

Eleanor, during her most recent cold (September) decided that she wanted a pillow to sleep on. So I got her one of her very own. A memory foam thing that she can't suffocate on & it's a good thing too because while she likes to snuggle up to the pillow when falling asleep, she doesn't sleep ON it, so much as vaguely near it. Or, recently, under it.

Pillows. She's doing it wrong.

Ode to my FitBit

My husband got me a FitBit for my birthday. This was actually an incredibly thoughtful gift because it was something that I wanted, but hadn't mentioned in almost 5 months. It's great, and I was really looking forward to using it to get back to some normal stuff after the baby arrives (and I finish recovering from that arrival & figure out how to deal with 2 under 2).

Oh, so, I wear it on my bra, so it's out of the way, and because I don't reliably have pockets, living in yoga pants most of the time. And that's a listed, recommended place for putting it. I'm not just a weirdo who keeps technology in my boobs. Anyway, it's important to note that when it's been still for a long time & you pick it up, it lights up with a little message to you. Something involving your name. I've never caught the beginning bit, because I'm not usually looking at it quickly enough to catch the first part. Bottom line, if you're still for a long time, say if you're sleeping, when you move, say to go to the bathroom for the millionth time, it will light up. If you're still mostly asleep, you may forget that you're wearing a FitBit and for a moment, dreamily think that you've turned into IronMan in your sleep. You might. I would never do such a thing of course. Except when I did

Right, so I like my little device. It's keen. You can understand why I'd be upset if it were missing. Well, on Thursday, it went missing. I noticed it was gone while I was sorting through tiny baby clothes & crib sheets, trying to make room for tiny-butt diapers along side the slightly-less-than-tiny-butt diapers that Eleanor now wears. I looked to see what time it was, as my phone was out of reach, and lo & behold! It was GONE. You'd think with it resting on a piece of intimate apparel I might notice when CHANGES happen in that area. You'd be wrong. Well drat. Thursday got off to a rough start when I broke a wine glass by dropping it out of the cabinet, bouncing it off the top-rack of the dishwasher & shattering it all over the kitchen floor. And now my tiny adorable pedometer was gone.

CURSES!!

When I went to get Eleanor from Mother's Day Out (after searching all the nooks and crannies of my house. I didn't even find the tv remote or my camera, both of which are also missing in action), I FOUND IT! HOORAY! REJOICE! Oh, wait. I found it in the parking lot. Under a car. Looking like it had possibly been run over once or twice.

The FitBit is dead. Long live the FitBit.

So that's how it is

So, today has been full of small surprises.

I had really strange dreams last night (no surprise there), but woke up feeling pretty rested. A nice surprise.

At Eleanor's Mother's Day Out program, they ask that you keep a spare set of clothes in the cubby. Good plan. Especially with toddlers. Since the weather seems to be finally cooling down, I brought her spare clothes home on Tuesday so I could replace the short-sleeved onesie & skirt with long-sleeves and pants. And boy am I glad I did, as it was nicely crisp this morning (60-ish?) and on the way to drop-off, in the back seat, Eleanor managed to pour water from a "leak-proof" sippy cup all over herself. Not the best surprise.

Then I went and got a Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate from Starbucks because they are tasty. Actually, I got one yesterday afternoon too, and it was $4.06 well spent. This morning, it was $4.17. I remarked that the 11 cent increase seemed odd, but was gladly handing over the change as I said it. The barista-dude (not a barister, that's a lawyer, right?) looked equally perplexed, pushed some buttons and said, "How about $3.57?" SOLD! A pleasant surprise.

I got home and before I could unplug my phone, I got a call from Bagels, who was in the middle of a migraine & needed a ride home. An unpleasant surprise for her, but I was glad I was available to come rescue her.

When we got home (again) I discovered that I'd forgotten to take Eleanor's LUNCH to MDO. Oops. So I rushed back over to deliver it. As I was walking down the hallway to her room, a little toddler comes around the corner, followed by another. They only made it 2 or 3 steps before their teacher appeared, but for a moment I thought someone had made a grand escape. Surprise! Then came Eleanor. She grinned and came running towards me. I opened my arms and she ran right past me. Zoom. Bye Mom, no time to stop, I'm on a mission. Surprise. I'm not as exciting as a trip to the playground. Little Miss Independent indeed.

18 months

Ok, I haven't done an "official" update on Eleanor in a while, so I'm gonna. Because I want to.

You guys, she's pretty awesome. I know I'm biased, but her Mother's Day Out teachers, the ladies (& gent) in the church nursery, the appointment desk lady at our pediatrician's office and lots of strangers comment on how happy she is. Which is great, but it's mostly true! She's not happy all the time. She throws tantrums and pitches fits and gets shy and cranky, but for the most part, she is an amicable and happy child. She plays independently. She explores. She likes most everyone she meets. She is quick to smile and wave. I am trying to soak up as much of this awesome as possible because I know that hard days are coming. I can see the willful in her eyes. I can see the boundary-pushing, limit-testing, stubborn, rule-breaking terror in her eyes. It's there. It's coming. But for now, she's truly wonderful.

Vitals:
Height: 32.25" (80th percentile)
Weight: 24 lb 12 oz (75th percentile)
Head Circumference: 18.5" (85th percentile)
I think her doctor said "nicely proportional" but I heard practically perfect in every way.

figuring out this doctoring business

Highlights:
I don't even know how to pick! 6 months is a long time of great moments.
We took some swim lessons, thanks to our friends K & D going on vacation & giving us their son's spot and that was a blast. Eleanor & I had matching swim suits. It was exactly as sickeningly sweet as you imagine and I loved every minute of it.
We went to California to visit my family out there, so first plane ride, and playing in sprinklers.
All of Faire happened, and she seemed to love it all. Half the time, she was a tiny pink mini-me. Half the time she was a turquoise mini-Diva. All the time she was adorable.

She has enough hair for some seriously adorable curls in back, and sometimes I can wrangle them into pigtails.

Skills:
Walking! Everywhere. Running & climbing stuff too
Talking! She has about 15 words, though lots of them are single syllable & hard to distinguish (up & help, baby & bye-bye, etc), but with visuals & signing, she is pretty clear
Signing! She has even made up a few signs of her own, like lotion, hair bow, purse, outside & Bagels taught her a sign for her name (Bagels' name, not Eleanor's name)
Eating & drinking with little to no help from anyone.
Chasing & throwing balls
Brushing her teeth (of which she has all but her top 2 canines now)
Washing herself in the tub
Sitting (uselessly) on her tiny potty & putting TP in the bowl
Charming the pants off of strangers

Works in Progress:
Taking her clothes on & off. (My mother is giggling manically right now. Apparently I was a terror as a toddler, demanding several costume changes a day)
Using forks & spoons
I'm not saying "potty training" because we're not there yet, but she has a definite interest in potty activities and in telling us when to change her diaper, so... you know... it's something. That might happen someday.

She loves:
Mother's Day Out. Seriously, she runs to her classroom & she loves her teachers.
Baby dolls. She got one for her birthday, but just recently has shown interest, and now that baby gets fed, cradled, diapered, napped, and dragged around by the ankles.
Her blanket(s). She doesn't have A single blanket, but 5 of the muslin style swaddle blankets and those are necessary for sleeping.
Dancing, which is starting to involve more than just her hands, so that's nice.
Purses
Bows (which don't stay in her hair very long, but she has decided that she needs one to leave the house, so I keep one in the car)
Stacking things--also the knocking them back over
Putting things into & taking them out of containers
Books--not to "read" but to turn the pages vigorously & then shake about
The pets. She meows & woofs at them. She climbs into Puca's crate with him & shuts the door. It's adorable





I love:
I think the hugging might be the best thing ever. Once she started walking, she got snugglier. She now lays her head down on my shoulder & pats my back when I ask for a hug or a snuggle. When I ask for a smooch, she usually just presents her forehead or cheek to BE smooched, which is great, but sometimes she will actually kiss me back. Sometimes she blows a kiss. To sum up-her giving physical affection is really rewarding.  
The clothes, still. Dressing her is still so much fun for me.

In the past week she's had a mini language explosion, learning a new word every day it seems, and that is so exciting to watch. I see friends' kids having whole conversations with their parents and it just boggles my mind that Eleanor isn't as far from that as I think. She's very expressive, but soon, people who aren't us will be able to tell what it is she's saying.

She dislikes:
Being told no
Closed doors (she's very much like the cats in that way)
Sitting still

I dislike:
The tantrums
The inability to figure out what it is she's ACTUALLY asking for that, and that inability causing a tantrum
When only Mama will do, and how that breaks J's heart.

Too cool for clothes?

With the same giraffe as always

All in all, I'm really loving this stage of her life. I can't wait for her to meet her baby brother, and I hope we all handle that transition with as much grace and compassion as possible.

Collages. That's what I've got.

So... September happened, eh? That was fun. August too.

The short version? J got laid off, found a great new job a month later. We're stuck paying RIDICULOUS amounts of money to keep our current (amazing) insurance through the delivery of this internal baby, but we're using the money his old job gave him to do it, so it's sort of ok. Then we'll switch to the insurance of his new job, which has a deductible 12 times higher. (That's not an exaggeration. I did the math.) Fun times! I'm still pregnant & doing well. The whole family caught a cold and it was pretty ugly for a few days, but we've come out the other side no worse for the wear. Eleanor started a Mother's Day Out program at our church, 2 days a week, 9-2. She LOVES it and is learning so much. I'm planning on doing an 18 month update after her check up next week because seriously, the amazing things she does now, it blows my mind. She's learning a new word a day it seems, and some of them are even easily recognizable to people who aren't us!

I tried to put together some comparison shots of my belly from last time to this time, but most of what I have are quick phone pictures in my bathroom. It's not the best quality, but here's me at 26, 28 & 30 weeks with Eleanor (in blue) and baby brother (in pink).

Then, because I was in the collage making mood, I put together one of my adorable daughter from a photoshoot to enter her into a contest she didn't win. But other than the hat & shoes, everything she's wearing was a gift from Temerity Jane.  

And you know, once you get started making collages, it's hard to stop, so here's the "recap" version of my attempt at 30 days of makeup from July. 

Now that it's October, I've started my quest in earnest to get J & I outfitted as a hippo & alligator. We have no parties planned, so it's really just for photos, but I got E a tiny hippo costume with stripey tights, and a pregnant hippo is just the same as a regular hippo, so that makes my life easier. Plus, you know, we have a thing for Fantasia 'round here. 

That was 7 years ago. Hard to imagine. We've come a long way since then. Here's to the next 7, and the 7 after that, and the 7 after that, and so on and so forth.

Let's go see the stars

So, Ginger is giving us Internet ladies stuff to write about so we don't have to think so hard (Thanks, lady!), and Snoozy entitled her post "Let's go to the movies" which, yeah, obviously, but then I started singing the song, and the next line is "Let's go see the stars" only in this house, since Eleanor was born, it's been changed to "Let's go clean your booty," which makes things different, but while I've enjoyed reading the posts prompted by Ginger, I haven't participated yet, but a list I can totally handle. And it's movies, which I love.

So let's get started, shall we?

(Not in preferential order, but rather order that I thought of them)

Annie. Seriously, Tim Curry, Bernadette Peters, Carol Burnett, Albert Finney! I think I watched this movie every day of my life as a small child. I still love it today. I still quote it. I got to play Miss Hannigan in high school, and it's still one of the highlights of my acting time. I'm making Eleanor watch it sometimes too. She likes the music.

The Princess Bride Again, one I watched quite a lot growing up. Maybe the most quotable movie of all time, and still fun to watch after all this time. I had a huge crush on Wesley and wanted all of Buttercup's dresses, even if she did have a stupid name.

Sleeping Beauty Yes, the Disney animated one. I wrote a whole post on why I love this movie, so this shouldn't be a shock to anyone. Still love it as much today as ever.

Memento Ok, this movie is weird and wonderful and someday I will figure out how to watch it in the correct order. My friend Paula introduced me to it, and it just made my brain spin in lots of good ways.

Love Actually The only Christmas movie I like. Bonus, it's got an amazing cast and I don't feel like I can only watch it at Christmas. For the record, Martin Freeman will always be "the naked guy from Love Actually."

Trainspotting This movie made me want to a) never, ever, ever do drugs EVER, and 2) wear a slinky silver dress to a dance club in the hopes of picking up Ewan McGregor. Still, it's the soundtrack that made me keep loving this movie. It's dark, it's gruesome, it gave me nightmares, and I still watch it because of the incredible music.

Velvet Goldmine So, occasionally, I go down some very strange paths watching all the movies a favorite actor has been in. Cillian Murphy has led me down some very scary paths. Ewan McGregor leads me to some gems, and also a lot of naked people. But the music. Again with the music. It should be the David Bowie story, but it's not (but just barely) and the soundtrack is one of my favorites of all time. Amazing.

The Hobbit  The animated version. Also a classic from my childhood. That Gollum (whose name I didn't ever know, just called him "the creepy 'my precious' guy") was the scariest thing in my whole wide world. I love the music. I love the story. I love the animation style. I just love all of it. Poor Bagels has had to watch it a lot since she's come to live with me.

Newsies/The Sandlot These go together (like ramarama...you know what I mean) because they were both my every day, after school (for all of middle school & most of high school), quoted every line, swooned over the boys, tried to learn the dances from Newsies, considered playing baseball before remembering that I'm hopelessly uncoordinated.

10 Things I Hate About You/Clueless These also go together in the "modern remakes of classic literature" and yes. Just yes. The "Taming of the Shrew" love story is one that I will watch/read/listen to/fall for EVERY TIME. EVERY TIME. Like in Emma, I mean Clueless, I love the "I hate you but now I love you" story. Love it. Fall for it every time.

Labyrinth/Dark Crystal  What, lots of movies come in pairs, ok? I can't explain these, but again, from my childhood. Incredibly quotable. Love them to this day. Make my friends watch them if they haven't seen them, because... Jim Henson! Babies in striped pajamas! Gelflings!

This really is just scratching the surface. There are so many good movies that I will watch again & again.