Nothing New Here

I'm sure the readership of this blog has gone down. After all, the baby has been born, so there isn't the same kind of SUSPENSE there was before. Nevertheless, I shall be posting today, and probably tomorrow, ignoring the New Year holiday. Let's face it - I'm exhausted. The only way I'll see midnight is if Andrew happens to be torturing me at that particular time.

This morning I need to change sheets all all three boys beds. Andrew and Nathan both peed so much their diapers couldn't hold it all. And Nicholas apparently decided he no longer needed pull-ups at night, and at some point he took them off. The trouble is, he really DOES need them, and now I have another set of sheets to wash.

Despite finding homes for a lot of new toys, the living room is still a cluttered mess. Mostly because as soon as I put a toy away, that becomes the toy the boys want to play with. And they both want to play with it at the same time. Without sharing. But with a lot of screaming and possibly pushing and shoving.

What it comes down to is... I'm tired. I wish I could sleep for a day and a half. I wish things would stay where I put them instead of migrating to the middle of the floor. I wish that I could accomplish something without having to stop eleven times to either stop a fight, fetch a toy, kiss a boo-boo, or breastfeed breastfeed breastfeed. I wish I didn't feel like screaming or crying half the time - darn these stupid hormones.

Surviving

I am very tired. I guess I forgot how tired you get taking care of a newborn. I mean, it really does defy logic. They tell you that newborns sleep 21 hours a day. 21 hours. Which leaves three for being awake. The problem is that they sleep for 21 hours a day, but only in ten minute spurts. They can also sleep while pooping, while nursing, and while screaming their little floppy heads off.

Andrew is actually a very mellow baby - so far. He sleeps for over three hours at a time, sometimes even at night. He hardly ever cries - but when he does he sounds as though he's being tortured, and the other night he caused even Steve to wake up in a cold sweat because obviously the screaming indicated that someone's eyeballs had fallen out of their sockets and the zombies were coming.

The things is, it's a constant non-stop of changing diapers, feeding, burping, changing diapers again, putting down to sleep, quickly jamming laundry in the washer (how does a small person create so much extra laundry?), and then trying to pay as much attention to the other boys before Andrew realizes I'm not holding him and asks to be fed by whimpering and moving his head around while opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, as though a magical breast will suddenly appear in front of him.

The other day I took Nathan and Andrew to Target to buy lightbulbs, soap, and other necessities we had lived without for what seemed like forever. The trip went fine. Both boys were perfect. But on the way home, I didn't even realize I had passed our exit until I was well past it. I mean, miles past it.

I keep telling myself that this part will go by more quickly than I can imagine. I look at my other boys and how big they are and remind myself that they were this little once, too. I tell myself it will only be a matter of time before Andrew can hold his own bottle, can roll over and crawl, will sleep for six hours at a stretch and have regular naps. It's encouraging and sad at the same time.

Directions

Nathan can sometimes follow simple directions. For example, I can say "go get me a tissue" and he will run to the bathroom and return with third of a square of toilet paper which he uses to dab at the snot running from his nose.

Nicholas, on the other hand, can follow directions such as "Please go upstairs to the baby's room, and look in the closet. There should be a couple of big bags of diapers. Can you bring one down to me?" And he will look at me with a scrunched up face ad ask "Are the diapers up high or down low?" and I will say "They are on the floor of the closet. You should have no trouble reaching them." And within four minutes I will have the diapers I need.

Andrew is not so great at following directions.

Here are some of the directions that came with some furniture that Lillian got us from IKEA. I rather enjoyed these directions, and not because they told me anything particularly useful.

Finding the Beat

Day 3 after Christmas and I'm still busy putting my life back together. I still need to find permanent homes for many of the bigger toys we got. I need to find bins for many of the toys with smaller parts. And I need to settle the baby into some sort of routine. He's mostly good, but oh, if I could get him to sleep at night the way he sleeps in the afternoon! Also, I'm having breastfeeding issues, which is not surprising, but is surprisingly painful. I have yet to resort to supplementing with formula, though, so good for me! Here is a photo of some of our trash.

The Twelve Gifts Of Christmas

Because this song can go on forever, I'm starting with number twelve and counting down. Basically it's a song about the new items (gifts) we've taken in due to the holidays. We're finding homes for all of them. Thank you to all generous folks out there who love us. Christmas was something really special.

By the way, the kids were NOT playing my song here. 

The Twelfth Gift of Christmas that someone gave to MEEEEEEEE....

Twelve  toys with Diego on them

Eleven games with tiny little pieces

Ten toys requiring batteries

Nine Thomas the Tank Engine books or toys

Eight DVDs

Seven new books

Six bottles of wine

FIVE Stockings filled with soap and toothpaste and other stuff like that...

Four gifts having to do with fire trucks

Three French Hens

Two pairs of gloves (and two new computers)

And a really cool pair of yellow Wellies!

The Day After Christmas

How's YOUR state of mind?

As He Drove Out of Sight...

MERRY CHRISTMAS


TO ALL

AND TO ALL

A GOOD NIGHT!

Goose is Getting Fat

No Words. Too Much Laundry. Enjoy Photo.

Merry Christmas, Baby!

I keep telling the kids that Santa Claus is coming soon, but somehow they aren't getting excited. I don't think they know that Santa brings presents. Which means that Christmas morning will be fun! Boy will they be surprised!

No photos pf Andrew today. I'm sorry, but I'm too busy changing his diapers to actually take any photographs. Unless you want one of his circumcision, which would be strange, and quite honestly I'm not that kind of parent.

I must go and continue catching up on laundry, right after I feed the baby.

Angry Andrew

Andrew has a biggish head. This green hat was made for newborns by some volunteers, and as you can see, it's a tight fit. It squeezes his skin down between his eyes, and the result is a very cute frown.

There is so much snow outside due to several snowstorms in a short amount of time and nothing even approaching warm enough weather or sunlight to melt any of it. Unless it's to create a nice sheet of ice. It's pretty, though!

And I should let you know that, from now until a little while, my posts are apt to be "lighter." Meaning they should be shorter, but won't necessarily be shorter, they might just be more rambly than usual. New and Improved! Now with more spelling errors! More unrelated topics! Hooray!

The Saga of Andrew

My doctor said to call when my contractions got to be 5 minutes apart, or when my water broke. Those are, apparently, the signs that you are in labor, and you're supposed to go into the hospital at that point.

Well, that's all well and good if you live next door to the hospital and you don't have to worry about who's taking care of your other kids. AND you don't happen to realize you are having contractions at 4:30 in the morning in the middle of a gigantic snowstorm. Which is what happened to me on December 16th. The contractions weren't bad, but they were frequent and regular and the snow was accumulating and I knew that Lillian, who was taking care of my children, would have to dig out her car and drive the 40 minutes up here before we could think about leaving the house ourselves...

So I had a choice. I could set things in motion and rick being wrong about being in labor, or I could wait and put things off until it was TOO LATE and it would just take Lillian longer to get here and take us longer to get to the hospital, and I would risk having this baby on the side of the road.

I set things in motion. AT 7am I called Lillian. She arrived at 8:30 with tales of horrible driving conditions. I called the doctor at 9am. She said to come in. Steve had plowed the driveway and taken a shower and we threw my bag in the car, kissed the boys goodbye (Nick was crying because he wanted to come have the baby with us) and drove to the hospital. We made our way to labor and delivery. The doctor checked me out.... and declared me hardly in labor. She let me wait for 3 hours while we had lunch, the RN's adjusted the bands around my belly, I breathed through the contractions, which were obviously, to me, getting worse and worse. And then she checked me again, declared there was no change, said I was probably having "practice contractions"and that it would probably be some time - maybe even a week - before the baby would come, and told me I could go home! Lucky me!

I was a little upset. For one thing, there were only two other people there having babies, so it's not like they were lacking for rooms. I wish they had kept me for observation just a bit longer - honestly, I do. But as the doctor cheerfully pointed out "This is not a hotel!" So I tearfully headed home to my two children, my pile of laundry, my messy house... with no baby. And the thing is... I had HAD practice contractions. I had been having contractions every day for weeks. Something was different this time, which is why I was at hospital to begin with. The fact that the stupid monitors didn't pick up on it wasn't MY fault!

So I went home. Lillian stayed and took care of the boys. Steve watched the football game and helped take care of the boys. I mostly stayed in bed crying, having contractions, writing down every single one, and watching the snow fall, watching bad TV, and doing the occasional small task. Lillian made dinner, I ate. I read the boys a bedtime story, pausing awkwardly at odd points in the text to breathe deeply. And then I took a shower.

I was still timing my contractions, but because the doctor had been so sure I was having "practice" contractions, I thought I was making things up. Steve came to sit with me in the bed. He watched me for about ten minutes, then finally said "Call the doctor again, would you?"

This trip to the hospital was much less fun. It was much bumpier. It was much more painful and uncomfortable. I knew that I was in labor, since at this point the contraction pains were starting in my lower back and running down the sides of my legs. But I was terrified that I would show up and the doctor would tell me I HAD progressed - and was dilated to two inches or something. (FYI - ten inches means you can start to push the baby out. When I went in that morning I was at one.)

I couldn't even walk when we got there at 10pm. I have never before walked into an Emergency Room and had people jump up to help me, but this time they did. And when the doctor checked me out she said I was dilated to 7 centimeters. SEVEN! How's THAT for a few practice contractions!

What followed was a horrifying experience tempered only by the use of a certain painkiller, which was not en epidural. I screamed a lot. There was a lot of technical difficulty involving the baby not getting past the pelvic bone and the birth being too short for antibiotics to work (TOO SHORT? They SENT ME HOME!). It was a big fat painful mess of a birth. But I tell you I have never been so happy to hold a baby in my arms. On the OUTSIDE of my body.

Next I'll tell you how, after not wanting to check me in, they wouldn't let us leave!

Andrew Patrick

Andrew Patrick was born on December 17th at 1:12 am at 8lbs 7oz and 20 inches long.

I would post a photograph, but I'm still at the hospital and using Steve's computer. We're unable to leave because Andy's a bit yellow and sleeping on a special light bed. He glows. So his first blog photo is going to have to wait.

I'll also post the story of the wonderful labor, which is a story in and of itself. Maybe tomorrow, when I can finally go home.

Thanks for dealing with me, everyone. I am so happy to have my baby boy at last!

Psst! - if commenting, please remember not to publish our last name. Anything that references it will be deleted. Jokes will have to be made to my face.

Implications

Nick: What is the new baby going to look like?

Me: Well, he's going to be small, and he'll look like a baby.

Nick: But what is he going to LOOK like?

Me: I don't know. That's the exciting thing about babies. We don't know what they're going to look like until they're here!

Nick: He could be black.

Very pregnant pause (excuse pun)

Me: For your father's sake, let's hope he's not.

Not To Be Trusted

Earlier this week I had a doctor's appointment which ran long. They decided to do a Non-Stress Test as a precaution because I mentioned that the baby hadn't been moving around as much... which isn't surprising, when you consider the lack of room the baby has to move around IN.

The test took 30 minutes, but I had to go to a different office - the one where they keep the monitor - and they had to squeeze me in between two other people, so I ended up being gone much longer than I thought. Lucky for me, Lillian was taking care of the boys and was able to feed them lunch and (mostly) put them down for a nap.

Needless to say, the test was fine, or I would have mentioned something earlier.

But when I got home I was tired. I didn't feel like doing anything. So as soon as Lillian left I ran upstairs, put Nathan back to bed for real, and then climbed into bed myself.

But I didn't sleep for very long. Because the doorbell rang. I ignored it, thinking it would be UPS and they would just drop the package and go away, but then the doorbell rang again. So I rolled out of bed, very irritated, and stumbled down the stairs, Nicholas hot on my heels. And guess who it was?

It was Lillian. With groceries. For us.

I should have been overjoyed. I should have been so HAPPY to not have to go shopping the next day, to not have to worry about food for a bit, for someone looking out for me and making my life easier... but I wasn't. I was tired and grumpy. I knew I had to go shopping the next day anyway because we needed diapers. Instead of being thankful I resented her thinking that I couldn't manage to food shopping for my own family - because I had it all planned out. Despite what Steve would say about my empty cupboards. I had a PLAN. in my HEAD. And if no one else could figure it out, then that was simply not my problem.

So the next day I went food shopping as usual. Where Lillian had gotten us pork roasts, bread, and broccoli, I decided to buy only necessities, such as Mallomars and Lucky Charms, and the biggest box of hot chocolate I could find.

So that's it. I'm not allowed to go food shopping anymore because otherwise I will be feeding my family pasta in Hershey's syrup, and apparently this does not go well with frozen veggies. From now on I'll make a list and send someone else, probably Nick, at least until this baby decides to MOVE OUT.

For the record, at this point in my pregnancy with Nick I had a two week old child. At this point with Nathan I was nearing the end of labor. Which would make this THE MOST PREGNANT I HAD EVERY BEEN. And trust me, I'm done with it.

Season of Noise

Gunther barks at everything. As soon as the time change happens and the neighbors start driving home in the dark he feels the need to bark wildly at every set of headlights that slow down on our street. This time of year he is especially irritating, since he also has to bark at UPS delivery trucks - even those parked down the street - snowplows, and anything that sound loud as it drives down the street. It wouldn't be so bad except that he KEEPS barking for some time after the offending vehicle has gone away.

He also goes crazy every time someone knocks on a wall or a door, or rings the doorbell - especially on TV. I don't know how he figured the doorbell thing out, because no one ever rang our doorbell. But we learned pretty quickly which DOMINO'S commercial we needed to mute.

A couple of days ago the cable guy rang our doorbell to let us know he had run some cable. Gunther, naturally, went off his rocker. Nathan turned to me and said "Pizzas are here!"

New Yorkers - check out Mike Daisey's "Christmas: Friend or Foe" tomorrow night at 7pm, at the Brooklyn Public Library!

Can't Take It Anymore

After fifty three dreams where my water breaks, I have actually given up on it ever happening in real life. I just can't take the let down of waking up and finding out that I am still pregnant and still NOT in labor. If you think YOU are impatient, remember, I'm the one with the hi-jacked body here.

The funny thing is, it's not about the baby. It's more about just not being pregnant anymore.

We've also reached the point where we have things to do - parties, get togethers... and to tell you the truth I was so sure I'd have a baby by now I never really paid much attention. Suddenly I need to think about what to wear to Steve's office party, about getting chicken nuggets for Nick's School Holiday party... And it's not fair because there's NO WAY I can look or act like a normal person right now. I feel like I should just bring photocopied sheets of paper to hand out to anyone that looks as though they might speak to me. FAQ's - with my due date, the fact that it's a boy, that I already have two boys, and that I am feeling fine but will bite your head off if you come too close.

No More Little Miss Sunshine

OK, so yesterday was the cheery post and now I'm back to being my grumpy self. I hate everything. I just want to stay in bed until the baby gets BORN, for crying out loud. But instead I've just spent the last 20 minutes chasing the kids and yelling at them for taking ornaments OFF the tree... a fun pass time of theirs. As though I will not notice when I walk into the room that the tree is almost naked for the bottom three feet, and that there are ornaments all over the floor. The thing is, I GAVE the boys a basket or ornaments to play with, ones I didn't care about or that couldn't be broken. But apparently they are not as fun as the ones Steve has had since 1981, since they don't hold the same sentimental value. I guess it's really fun to watch a very pregnant woman in her bathrobe spill her coffee as she yells "GET AWAY FROM THE TREE!" forty seven times.

The Good Things

I know I have been complaining a whole lot lately. I don't mean to, but I get carried away with it, and then I just can't stop. There are a lot of good things I could post about as well, good things that don't even include a baby or finally getting the pregnancy over with.

Steve, for example, is being extra helpful. He has stepped in to take over baths and making dinner more times than I had expected him to, and has even put the boys to bed a couple of times. He's also started up the plowing again, and stands there on icy mornings to make sure I can get out of the driveway (which is a small hill upwards, and sometimes can cause a problem.) He also cleaned the basement yesterday - the part with the furnace and the water tank and all the tools and everything. The basement part of the basement. He's nesting with me - tell me that's not cute. ALSO, he's not only been great dealing with my obsessive need to finish holiday shopping, but HE HAS ALSO FINISHED HIS OWN SHOPPING! This is a guy who waits until the last minute for EVERYTHING. And I feel like he's doing it all for me.

On top of all that, the other day I stripped the sheets of my bed but ran out of steam before I could put the new ones on, so I just left them there for later. And the Cleaning Service came (not their usual day, because of the snow and all) and when I went upstairs they had made my bed! Which is a full workout for me these days, what with the bending and the tugging and the yanking kids off the mattress and then trying to get the sheets on before they climb up again... And I remember feeling so grateful. I usually complain all the time that I do a better job than this cleaning service, and here they are making my bed for me!

Mommy Crank

I'm just so tired of waiting. It's not like I'm not busy or don't have things to do, it's just that WHAT IS THE POINT? I really would rather be in labor than making dinner or cleaning the house or doing storytime at the library or wrapping gifts. I don't want to think about the office party or about Christmas Eve because I want to HAVE A BABY by then.

I mean, time is running out, people. I need this baby before Christmas. Otherwise my Holiday will not be bright. Instead, it will be fat and uncomfortable.

Holiday Mish-Mash

I sometimes forget how much the phone used to ring in our house growing up. We had to have two phone lines because so many people used the phone. (Remember, this was before the internet, email, and cell phones with texting became common, so the only way we teenagers HAD to communicate was via phone. HOW OLD FASHIONED!)

Here, days can go by without the phone ringing (really - days) and when it does there is a good chance it is a political party calling for support, or a business making a courtesy call. Other than that, only a handful of people call every once and awhile - the usual suspects.

But lately someone has been calling me every day. Just one person each day. It's almost as though the people I know contacted each other and assigned each other days, just so they could keep tabs on me and when this baby arrives. Even though I PROMISE I will let everyone know ASAP.

In the meantime, we're getting on with life. Yesterday we put up our Christmas tree. The decorations are out, the music is playing... I'm just about ready! Except for this baby.

Here is a picture of one of the kids' favorite decorations. It is a snowman who dances and sings "The Pepermint Twist." We have had to place it on top of the fridge to avoid peppermint twist overload.

And here is a picture of the tree we won at the Festival Of Trees! We were surprised we won anything - it's been a good year for us as far as raffled are concerned. Honestly, I don't think we meant to bid on this tree, but Nick and Nate had the raffle tickets and they tended to just stick them in whatever bin was closest. The hat on the top sings "Jingle Bells" and bends from side to side. We gave the tree to Lillian, who wasn't planning on getting a tree for her own place. Our tree is a real tree. Pictures will be posted later.

All I Want For Christmas

AS an adult, my wish list looks a bit different than it used to. Mostly because I don't need anything. But here is a general guide.

1 - a baby

2 - little elves who sneak into my house when I'm not looking for the sole purpose of folding and putting away my laundry

3 - someone else to make dinner

4 - someone else to at least decide what's for dinner

5 - Olay face cream

6 - galoshes

7 - three more hours in each day - preferably during nap time.

8 - chocolate. Or a lasagna. Or a case of Diet Dr. Pepper.

9 - peace on earth

10 - trouser socks

Grown Up X-mas List

I just erased a much longer post about what I want for Christmas now that I am grown up. But I have to go now because my kids have so far gotten into 76 screaming fights this morning, it's only 7:22, I have yet to have my first cup of coffee, I have to change Nick's bedsheets (again), I have to make Nick a lunch for school, I have to get dressed, and if one more kid starts screaming I swear I am going to throw all the Christmas presents out the window into the snow and take off for the nearest bar open at 7:22am.

Call Me Crazy

Yesterday Nick drew this in one of my notebooks. "Look, Mommy!" he said, smiling. "I drew a picture of your belly!"Seriously, that was kind of cute and kind of made me want to bang my head against the wall. It was nothing compared to this very morning, however, when I went in to find that Nick had had an accident at night... again. He'd been really good until Thanksgiving, when he started peeing all over the place, day or night. He's gotten better since then, in that daytime accidents have dwindled, but night seems to have gotten worse, if anything. I try to limit drinks, encourage him to go twelve times before he falls asleep... And this morning, when he woke up soaked, he decided to remedy the situation by climbing into bed with his brother, which would have been fine except he didn't take off his soaking wet PJ's first, so I ended up having to change both sheets for the third time this week. THIRD TIME. Seriously, the laundry is now out of control, and the baby hasn't even been born yet.

Speaking of baby... I got a number of comments about how a number of people hadn't started their Holiday shopping, and I'm not late, blah blah blah... and that's well and good. If you want to shop the malls o Christmas Eve, go for it. My goal is to avoid the malls altogether. But the truth is, I CAN'T do that. I have kids. I can hardly look around Pottery Barn for three minutes without boys screaming and trying to pull delicate stuff off of shelves. And remember, any day now I will also have a NEWBORN. And once that happens I will basically be housebound, because there is no way I am taking a newborn with me shopping unless it is a matter of life or death.

ALSO, most of the people I shop for live NOT HERE. Meaning I must allow time to mail the gifts or bribe someone to come and get them. (I'll give you a baby! Hey, FREE BABY!)

What We Did Yesterday

The seeing Santa part was painless. But no matter how organized I try to be, no matter how early in the year I begin my shopping and planning, I always end up at the mall in December trying to find a last minute gift for those one or two people. Or Four people. Shoot. I'm going to have to go do some online shopping and pay for the expedited shipping.

Christmas more reliable than Baby

You would be surprised at how many strangers, once they ask when the baby is due and I TELL THEM, out of some sense of duty to be nice to people, actually comment "Oh! So you could have a CHRISTMAS BABY!" As though having a baby born on Christmas is what everyone is really shooting for. As though it is something GOOD. Lucky me! I should only hope we can hold out that long!

SHUT UP PEOPLE! No one wants a birthday on Christmas, not unless you are a doll named "Chrissy!" or a too precious little girl or some sort of kid who hates getting presents because you KNOW you are going to get gypped! Also, the baby is due on the 16th. The 25th would make it 9 days overdue. Which is not exciting AT ALL! Also, what makes them think I want to spend MY Christmas away from my family? In the hospital? In labor? I hate all those people!

Anyway - ahem - sorry for the outburst... but no, the countdown for the baby to arrive has actually been forgotten and set aside, since it has no bearing on reality. Sadly, the baby will not arrive on its due date, but maybe before, maybe after, and I'm sick of waiting around. The new countdown is for CHRISTMAS!

Let's face it, Christmas will be on the 25th, no matter what. I can depend on that. I might still be pregnant. I might be in the hospital, I might have a ten day old baby. But no matter what, it will be Christmas, and Santa will come with gifts.

One of my Favorites

I know I owe you pictures. Today there is lots of snow and everything I had on my to do list is getting set aside, schools are closed, and you can't imagine how frustrated and helpless that makes me feel. But I will get pictues of boys in snow.
The following are a few highlights from a chapter in Shirley Jackson's Life Among the Savages. For some reason I found this chapter funnier than usual these past few days. Please remember that the book was published in 1953, and things were a bit different back then...

Everyone always says the third baby is the easiest one to have, and now I know why. It's the easiest because it's the funniest, because you've been there twice, and you know....

... for the last two weeks before I went to the hospital almost everyone I know called me almost once a day and said "Haven't you gone yet?"

...Everything was, as I say, perfectly normal, up to and including the frightful moment when I leaped out of bed at two in the morning as though there had been a pea under the mattress... my husband said sleepily, "Having baby?"
"I really don't know," I said nervously. I was looking for the clock... It was hard to find without the alarm ringing... "I can't find the clock," I said.
"Clock?" my husband said. "Clock. Wake me five minutes apart."

"How soon do you think we ought to leave?"
"Around noon, probably." I said. "Everything is fine, really."
My husband asked politely, "May I help you with breakfast?"
"No, indeed," I said..."I feel so well," I said.
"Would you be offended," he said, still very politely, "if I took this egg out of my glass?"

The taxi arrived and suddenly I was saying goodbye to the children. "See you later," Laurie said casually. "Have a good time."
"Bring me a present," Jannie added.

"Name?" the desk clerk said to me politely, her pencil poised.
"Name," I said vaguely. I remembered, and told her.
"Age?" she asked. "Sex? Occupation?"
"Writer," I said.
"Housewife," she said.
"Writer," I said.
"I'll just put down housewife," she said. "Doctor? How many children?"
"Two." I said. "Up to now."
"Husband's name?" she said. "Address? Occupation?"
"Just put down housewife," I said. "I don't remember his name, really."
"Is your husband the father of this child? Do you have a husband?"
"Please," I said plaintively, "can I go upstairs?"
"Well, really," she sniffed. "You're only having a baby."

"Call me if you want me," the doctor said to the nurses as he left, "I'll be downstairs in the coffee shop."
"I'll call you if I need you," I told him ominously, and one of the nurses said in a honeyed voice, "Now, look, we don't want our husband to get all worried."
I opened one eye; my husband was sitting, suddenly, beside the bed. He looked as though he were trying not to scream. "They told me to come in here," he said. "I was trying to find the waiting room."
"Other end of the hall," I told him grimly. "Get him out of here, "I said, waving my head at my husband."
"They told me - " my husband began, looking miserably at the nurse.
"It's allllll right," the nurse said. "Hubby belongs right here."
"Either he goes or I go," I said.

"Well, well," I said to the nurse. "Sure am glad to see you."
"Sissy," she said distinctly, and jabbed me in the arm.
"How soon will this wear off?" I asked her with a deep suspicion...
"You won't even notice," she said enigmatically, and left.

"Doctor," I said, and I believe that my voice was a little louder than I intended it should be, "you better give me - "
He patted me on the hand and it was my husband instead of the doctor. "Stop yelling," he said.
"I'm not yelling," I said. "I don't like this any more. I've changed my mind, I don't want any baby, I want to go home and forget the whole thing."
"I know just how you feel," he said.
My only answer was a word which certainly I knew that I knew, although I had never honestly expected to hear it spoken in my own ladylike voice.
"Stop yelling," my husband said urgently. "Please stop saying that."
"Who is doing this?" I asked. "You or me?"

"Had it yet?" I asked her.
"No," she said. "You?"
"Yep," I said. "You going home again?"
"Listen," she said. "I been thinking. Home, the kids all yelling and my mother looking sad like she's disappointed in me. Like I did something. My husband, every time he sees me jump he reaches for the car keys. My sister, she calls me every day and if I answer the phone she hangs up. Here, I get three meals a day I don't cook, I know all the nurses, and I meet a lot of people going in and out. I figure I'd be a fool to go home."

When Planning Fails

In the last month of your pregnancy, the doctors like to see you every week. That means that every single week I need to make my way to the office, step on a scale, hand over a cup of pee, get my blood pressure taken, my belly measured, listen to a heartbeat, and then I get sent on my way with the encouraging words that "Everything is fine! We're just waiting, now!"

I spend more time getting to the office than I do in the actual office.

But I look forward to going, because each time I have an idea that the doctor will take one look at me and exclaim "My Goodness! This woman in in labor and doesn't even know it! Get her to the Hospital at once! This baby could come any moment!"

Since scheduling appointments can be tricky, I have scheduled the last month of appointments in advance, just to make sure I can get times I need. My next appointment is scheduled for tomorrow morning, at 8:10am. not a great time for me, but it was the best they had. I had planned on taking the boys to my appointment, then shuttling Nick to school, then driving Nate to Storytime at the Library.

But now it is supposed to snow. Tonight. And suddenly my plans are all crazy. Will I make it to the doctor's office at all? School may be called off, and then there will be no Storytime either.

I am confident that, if it snows enough to prevent me from going to my doctor's appointment, I will immediately go into labor.

Or maybe not.

Funny ODD - Not Funny Ha Ha

You spend about 3/4 of a pregnancy doing everything you can to keep the baby safe and inside you. The remaining 1/4 is the few weeks before you know you're pregnant, and then the last three weeks, where you want to rip the baby out of you with the nearest baby-ripping-out object you can find.

The baby meter o'reader says I have fifteen days until my due date.

And I thought that, this time around, the holidays would be a distraction.

HA!