To Rest or Nest, that is the Question

I need to be stopped. At this point, all the books are saying "put your feet up" and "save up your energy for the delivery". I am here to tell you it's a farce! I wish I could lay about and cozy up to a tub of ice cream, but it just ain't happening. I am in hyper drive! I have been nesting like it's going out of style. Let me give you some examples. In the past few days, I have ironed all the pillow cases in our house; organized & labeled my kids closets; re-framed several pictures; reupholstered a bench; painted a bed; froze 3 casseroles; detailed the car; took down the Christmas lights; hung drapes; and laundered everything that holds still long enough for me to get my hands on it. I've got problems. And so does R, because his "honey-do" list never stops. I need a padded room or a sedative...or both.

Can this maniac be stopped? Who knows? All I know it my world is about to be rocked by a newborn, but at least I'll have pressed pillowcases.

The Countdown Continues

Oh how the line up on my nightstand has changed. What once was a stack of literary works and mindless magazines has been replaced by baby propaganda. The starring line up: What to Expect When you are Expecting (no time like the present to start reading up on what has happened to my body the past 9 months); Pregnancy Journal ("Dear Diary, it's been a while since I have written and seen my feet...); Baby name books (such pressure- my latest fav "Barakwell"- ha!); and Babywise (my dummies guide for newborns). What I really need is a book that is called What to Expect when you are done Expecting and in Way Over your Head! Yeesh!

In other related news, I am now visiting with the doc weekly. This truly is a sign of the countdown. You know that old adage about always leaving your house in clean underwear just in case you get in an accident or in my case have an accident. Well here are a few additions to the list...always leave your house in clean skivvies (pack a backup in case you sneeze), be well groomed (shaved legs included), a pair of galoshes (in case your water breaks), toenails painted (must look stylin' in stirrups), tasty snacks (hate to miss a meal), and a suitcase (for your deductible sponsored trip to the hospital). Mind you, this is all just in case. Exciting isn't it? Now I know why I couldn't hack the girl scouts. There is too much work involved in 'always being prepared'.

In the long run when push comes to push, none of these things will be as important as the drugs...and girl scouts don't pack those door to door! Believe me, epidurals trump thin mints!

Week 36: Belly Laughs

In pregnancy and life, one must have a sense of humor. At this stage, it is the one thing that I exercise regularly. Each day when I dress this figure o' mine, I find myself giggling at the images that come to mind. Today for instance, I wriggled myself into a fresh pair of sweat pants and a shirt that makes me look like a wedding mint. Oh this shirt is a doozy! One of those that you scoff at in the beginning of your pregnancy because you will never be that desperate. I am clearly past desperation and just hoping to cover crucial parts. Back to the shirt that launched a blog entry. It's sea foam (a real color palate pleaser). The last time I wore this color, I was seasick. It has fabulous ruching and drawstrings on the side. Now I don't have clearance to fly at this stage, but I am fairly certain that given the opportunity to jump out of a plane I could pull those ripcords and my shirt would double as a parachute!

Function has surpassed style...here's to looking fine in 2009!

When Dad is Away, The Girls Will...

Once Dad hits the road everything changes. When I am a one woman show, our house transforms into a lawless country with a sheriff that is too tired to regulate. There is a different code of conduct. Pj's become the uniform. They are only taken off when changing into another pair. Eating out & Eggo waffles are a primary source of nutrition. Brushing teeth & hair are purely optional. Keeping the house clean is for the birds or the bored (which you are not with 2 wild children). Late night sleepovers in Mom's bed are a must...especially when Mom looks the other way while little people jump. Allowing G-bean to raid Dad's ice cream stash and letting E ride her bike in the house become kosher. Activities must result in pure exhaustion. And adventures are a daily staple. Weekend highlights: playing in the snow, wagon rides to the pharmacy for ring pops (truly an emergency! no edible jewels in the house), painting with wild hair (inspiration comes in many forms), loitering at the library, and bouncing on giant inflatable structures. Yep, even 35wk prego Mom went on the inflatables. Crazy- Yes! Missing out on all the fun- NO!

Upon Dad's return, it's back to business as usual. When the Deputy returns, there is a new sheriff in town! Mom's got back up!

Life Under the Big Top

This optical illusion is me at 35 weeks. Why not take a picture? The horizontal stripes only accentuate my fabulous curves. Yes, life under this big top is lively. Our little man is in the countdown. E conducts hourly check ups of my belly while G-bean discourages any heavy lifting. I have two little mothers on my staff and they mean business. E is constantly asking "You okay mommy?" My response today..."Yes E, mommy got out of daddy's sweats."

Plan for the rest of the day: spin around really fast in this shirt and tell my children they are getting sleepy. This big mama needs a nap!

Notes From The Underbelly

There is this place which I have dubbed the
"Bermuda Triangle". It's an elusive area- nothing gets around it. Nothing covers it. Nothing can be seen past it. Any guesses? Yep, it's the bottom of my burgeoning belly.

I no longer have a skinny leg to stand on when it comes to telling my girls not to wear belly shirts. Throughout the day, each shirt shimmies it's way to mid belly and then stops. G-bean either finds it hysterical or concerning the way my clothes fit. E just thinks it's great that she can easily locate my belly button (if you can call it that). It looks like a turkey timer these days. I on the other hand find myself wearing more and more of R's clothing. There is nothing wrong with wearing his sweats in public right? Repeatedly? Mid afternoon?

With 5 weeks to go, the white flag is up! I have surrendered to stretchy pants and men's clothing. According to the books, I have traded my sashay for a waddle. And according to me, I am having an out of body experience (or a trapped in body experience). Either way, it's no longer mine. I hope to reclaim what's left of it in February. Until then, my Bermuda Triangle will continue to defy the law of physics and clothing.


**Congrats to all my fellow pregos who have already popped! I hope to join you in the stirrups soon!