the turkey dance

Since it has already been "Facebooked".... my sister is ENGAGED! give me a minute...
WAHOO!
When I found out, I did what Lee now adoringly calls "the turkey dance." I would like to teach you all the turkey dance. So the next time you are overcome with joy and you just can't come up with the words to express it, you'll know what to do.

1. Walk in place...ecstaticly.
2. Bend arms at elbows, palms facing your cheeks.
3. Wave hands.... ecstaticly.
4. In an escalating volume begin to scream (squawk) OH MY GOD!
5. While doing all of this, jump up and down... ecstaticly.

Behold... the turkey dance.

I could not be more excited for any person to begin the walk towards married life. Not like I didn't already view them as a married couple... it's been five years now.... but now it's OFFICIAL. And God bless Dan for his gentle and relaxed manner in dealing with the continuous screams of YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED!!?!?!?!? YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?#@?#@?# And most of all... congratulations to Roxy.... their puggle child.... who no longer has to be hyphenated at doggie day care.
Now excuse me I need to spend the rest of my life scouring ETSY.com.....

Does a Body Good

BREAST MILK. AMAZING. GROSS. AMAZINGLY GROSS.

Ok... yes, I pushed an actual human being out of my body, but breast milk is by far the weirdest thing my body has produced.

The sheer science behind it is amazing. How all of a sudden there is an overwhelming flow of fluids and this is what your baby will live and thrive off of.... and for three days you barely feel like wearing a shirt because you'll just end up changing 15 times because you haven't figured out how to turn to nozzles from mist to jet stream. As if it wasn't bad enough that you have to wear a pantyliner for three weeks straight, now I have to put pads in my BRA!?!?! The one time in my life where I don't need any help in that department and now I'm STUFFING?!!? Good grief.

As weird as it is (not seems, IS) and as tiring as it gets to feel like nothing but a feeding machine, a glorified Holstein, or Slurpee machine.... there is a certain pleasure I take in knowing that I alone am the soul source of life for my little girl. Sure there is a down side.... I ALONE AM THE SOUL SOURCE OF LIFE OF MY LITTLE GIRL.... not much anyone else can do to help at some times... but seeing Hailey go from this screaming colicky mess, to a peaceful chubby angel is quite rewarding.

My favorite part of nursing is there are times when Hailey is so ravenous she cups her cheeks as she feeds as if to say "OH MY GOD MOM, this milk... amazing... Julia Child would roll over in her grave... do I detect a hint of nutmeg? Watch out Mario Batali, there's a new set of boobs in the kitchen."

Baby pt. 2

So the slightly abbreviated version is up, now for a little more filler.
Ok, women across the world will probably want to maul me for saying this.... but here goes.

The whole labor was not that bad. Let me rephrase that.... FOR MYSELF ONLY, labor was not terrible. Uncomfortable? YES. Brought me to tears? YES. But overall, and I count my blessings, my whole pregnancy experience was....pretty wonderful. I pat myself on the back for making it to 8cm without meds. And in hindsight, I feel I could have delivered her completely naturally and had her within 2 hours of being at the hospital. But, my water did not break, and I had to have a catheter put in- so I was pretty happy that I had the epidural.

It only took three pushes to get her out into the world, and she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Everyone says that, but I mean it with all my heart. When the doctor placed her warm, wet little body on my chest, she might as well have been handing me my heart to hold on to. Hailey was the most alert, happy person to have been born. She immediately grabbed my finger and just stared at me. Even the clamminess of her skin was perfect. Unless we have another child, there will never be another time on my life, where I had no other care in the world then what I was holding in my hands. This person..this life.. my DAUGHTER, the one thing on this planet I had been so anxiously waiting for was here and she did not disappoint.

My mother, sister and husband were all present for her birth, the three people I know she will always look to in my absence or even when she is just not getting what she wants out of me, have literally known her from her first breath. I can't imagine anything more special.

So there I was, still in the stirrups, holding this perfect little person, and all I could think of was how thankful I was to have this wonderful experience. To have had a healthy pregnancy, a relatively short labor and the people I love the most to have shared it with, what else could a person want? What else could a mother want? And now, I can officially answer that question.

NOTHING.

Baby...pt 1.....

OK.
November 4th, 2009.
6am- I wake up to a strange twinge rolling between my hips. I get in the shower, do my hair, get dressed etc.... leave for work.
7:15am- at a stoplight on my way to work... TWINGE!....hmmmm... could it be? no, no.....
8:30am TWINGE! followed by a very very sharp kick to the ribs. Maybe I should take a walk, it'll make me feel better. I take the mail down to the dropbox and I do indeed feel a teensy bit better.
11am, 12:45pm, 1:30PM TWINGE!
Finally at 3:30PM TWINGE! Then, at 3:38PM HOLY MOTHER OF GOD TWINGE! I call the Triage nurse at my doctor's office, I asked her if I should go to the hospital. She told me not to go to Labor and Delivery until my contractions are 3-5 minutes apart, or they'll just send me home. OK.
I call Lee's office, he had only been at work for 2 hours, and figured he should probably get home because we are definitely having a baby. My mother drives me home, we get my bag, take Lucy to my sister's house and call everyone we know to inform them of my every 8 minute contractions. Since they are still 8 minutes apart and have been for the last 2 hours at this point, where do we go? Target, of course. Walking around Target, grabbing on to aisle displays every so often, did not move us along as we'd hoped. So my mom says, "well, if you're having a baby tonight, we should probably get dinner, because you won't get to eat once you're in the hospital."
GREAT IDEA. I call Lee, to see how far away he is and ask him where he wants to go to dinner. The sheer confusion in his voice was just precious.... "what do you mean 'let's have dinner'.... i thought we were having a baby!?!" Apparently he thought the baby was crowning when I called him....
OK.
10:30PM Go to the hospital, woman in the emergency room promises me a wheelchair to get me down to L&D.
10:35PM FAT HORRIBLE WOMAN MAKES ME WALK TO THE COMPLETE OTHER SIDE OF THE HOSPITAL
11:00PM 4cm dilated.. Pitocin drip started
11:45PM 8cm dilated... called for epidural
12:15AM My legs now officially feel like cold sides of beef which I could not stop slapping
3:30AM Doctor is called...feel the urge to push
3:31AM Nurse tells me she could deliver my baby, but we're going to try to wait for the doctor.
3:33AM We're told MY doctor isn't coming, so I'm going to have to oncall Doctor.
3:40AM Dr.K walks in puts on her gown
3:45AM I'm officially a MOM. Hailey Maureen 6.14 lbs 20in.

The light was on....

Lee and I were so excited for him to have Halloween off from work. Last year, we had so many trick or treaters we were out of candy in an hour, and there were barely any kids in the neighborhood! In our new neighborhood, there is a kid in almost every house- and just about every other house was decorated with spiderwebs and scarecrows... we were totally anticipating this HUGE rush of children as soon as it got dark.

My parents and my sister came over, I made dinner... and anxiously awaited all the little goblins that were to come a knockin'. 6....6:30.....7.... NOTHING. I had about $30 worth of Costco sized bags of candy and I maybe had five kids the whole night! What a let down. At about 8, the doorbell rang and I thought, maybe just maybe I'd open the door and there would be this onslaught on middle school kids....no.... just the in-laws.

My mother-in-law proceeded to tell me how they were over run with kids and they left the house because they didn't want their doorbell ringing all night with nothing to hand out. Just RUBBING it in my face.... not really... but I was so disappointed at the low turn out in our neighborhood. When we moved in and saw the wide range of ages of all the kids living around us, we were excited for the next few years when we get to take Hailey around. But now we see, we're going to have to DRIVE to Town Square or some other fake Halloween experience, just for her to get to babble "twick or tweet" to the GAP manager for one lousy Snicker's bar. What a gyp.

The hilight of the night came just before the family came over and Lee realized Lucy did not have a costume (neither of us dressed up). He gets up and says he's going to run to PetCo to see if they have little bat wings. I told him to make sure he gets the medium size not the small, because her chest is too big for the smalls (I have a strange feeling I will be saying the same thing about our daughter). 20 minutes later, Lee comes home- not with bat wings... or a hot dog costume... or even a witch's hat. He came home with this:

Wish Granted

Another week has come and gone, and Lee got his wish. I have remained pregnant long enough for him to have gone to the first night of the PBR Finals. It was kind of a bust though.
You see, last year we swear the PBR started at 7pm. So around 4pm I took my usual nap and I guess Lee dozed off too. We woke up around 5ish, and as I started to get ready to go, I hear "WHAT! CAITLIN WE HAVE TO GO!NOW!" I guess we should have checked the tickets earlier....

the PBR started at 6pm.

Lee is FA-LYING down the freeway, huffing and puffing because now there was no time for him to go to the Jack Daniels' tent, he couldn't enter his name 45 times in the Copenhagen motorcycle raffle, but most importantly he would not get to ride the mechanical bull that was outside the Thomas and Mack.

Now, my favorite part of the PBR (and the fall season in general) is the KETTLE CORN. These GINORMOUS bags for $5. Best thing ever- especially to a 9 month pregnant woman. The kettle corn is only sold outside the arena along with the honey roasted ears of corn and all the other deliciosness that is rodeo fare. The outside area, I thought, was apart of the whole event, so instead of buying a bag of kettle corn before we went inside, I did what any logical pregnant woman would do... I went to the bathroom first, found our seats, then I followed my nose to the entrance of the arena only to be brought to an abrupt halt by a ticket taker.

"If you leave, there is no re-entrance."
"Are.... you..... SERIOUS!?"
"Well, what do you need?"
"Kettle Corn."
"Yeah, sorry I can't let you back in if you leave."

I am not kidding you, my eyes welled up with tears. This woman was denying my unborn child her first taste of kettle corn! Who does she think she is?!? How dare she!!?? I was so upset the rest of the night, I couldn't enjoy my soft pretzel OR my gummy bears.

760 DAYS?!?!

As mentioned before, the last few days have seemed to drag on forever... and there is nothing I can do to make it go faster... The nursery is as done as it can be right now (although I have decided to change the paint color, but after Hailey comes)...and unlike my sister, I have no desire to bake away the evenings, I really wish I did though.... delish...

When you think about it, 9 months is a LONG time, and technically women are pregnant for 10 months. For nearly an entire year your body is constantly working, changing, providing for this tiny person that you harbor from the outside world, but really you don't even know all in the name of procreation. Don't get wrong, I have actually enjoyed being pregnant and treasure the special time that I have had with this tiny person who has not only filled my body but my life to the fullest. BUT.... my bladder, spine and uterus are calling for an eviction notice to be posted.

Bringing me to the photo... I was ASTONISHED to find out that African elephants have a gestational period ranging from 660-760 days.... quick math.... that's almost 2 FULL YEARS! CAN YOU IMAGINE! I mean, you're already an ELEPHANT and now you have to lug around BABY WEIGHT through the Savannah? for 2 YEARS!!! I think I'll count my blessings that I am not, no matter how much I feel like one, an African elephant.

Artistic Prowess

Behold... our jack-o-lantern... if you look close enough, you can see where Lee started to trace a pattern... then decided he did not have all night to carve a pumpkin...annnnnnnnnnd this is what we were left with.

It started out great... I scooped the guts ( apparently it makes Lee's skin itchy...yeah right...) anyways, I scooped it out and showed Lee how to start laying the pattern for a really cute mummy design. I left him in the garage to get started and by the time I came out- he had already thrown out the design, the small pumpkin carvers, and is now hacking away at this 15lb pumpkin with a Cuisinart serrated bread knife. No pattern, no plan... just cutting pieces out of poor Jack's face.

I flashed forward five years from now when we carve Hailey's first pumpkin..... all she'll want is a My Little Pony jack-o-lantern, and she'll eagerly wait for Lee to finish carving... and two hours and umpteen profanities later he'll turn around Mr. Snaggletooth Pumpkin with one HUGE eyeball because he carved to close together. Maybe we'll just paint pumpkins from now on....

Sleepy, Dopey, & GRUMPY

Friday was my 23rd birthday, it was also the last birthday my husband and I would wake up as just "Caitlin and Lee" and not "Mom and Dad."

My birthday morning was spent at the doctor's office for my weekly "how do you do Ms. Cervix" visit. Being 37 weeks means I am "full term" in my pregnancy, so should Hailey choose to make her debut in the lovely month of October, all would be well and good. I tried not to have any expectations for this visit, although on my drive to the office, I did promise my cervix a trip to Home Goods if she showed signs of allowing my daughter to join us for dinner.

After waiting 20 minutes in the waiting room and an HOUR in the exam room, my doctor finally came in and said that all my labs were great, my blood pressure was good...etc.... with my impending delivery, and the intimate nature she is about to have with my nether regions, she has really stepped up the small talk and pleasantries, which is fabulous because had we met on other circumstances I think we'd be great friends... but I kind of make it a habit to not socialize with the people that have such...ahem... "privileged" knowledge of my body. moving on....

I had told her how uncomfortable I have become- I cannot find a good resting position, sit up gracefully, keep a good train of thought, and have the sudden urge to bitch slap the next person who says "any day now...." (my apologies by the way....) She then proceeded to shake hands with my cervix and told me that I had begun to dialate and was right where I needed to be. It was then that my doctor offered me the best birthday present... AROM.... I'll let you Google that... take your time...

God help me if I didn't crawl into her arms and kiss her all over... YES! YES! Happy Birthday to ME!!! So now that we've done the AROM, Hailey could be coming ANY DAY NOW..which is a blessing and a not so blessing all at once.... by that I mean every day since then has crrrrrrrrraaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwlllllllllllleeeeeeeddddddd by.... and my body has become increasingly more uncomfortable-

BUT as of Friday, it seems Lee has been body snatched and replaced with a man that finally believes his wife is actually going to deliver a human being in the next few days (hopefully) and that he did not infact marry Roseanne Barr.

His attentiveness and tenderness only reassure me of the kind of father he will be to our daughter...and there really is nothing sexier than that...

Just Can't Have Nice Things

Behold the start of the swelling for month #9. But the boobs look great so we'll go with it.

When we were kids, we had the blessed opportunity of living over seas for a number of years. Thankfully, my parents made it possible for us to travel quite a bit and see a lot of things that both my sister and I would kill for to be able to see now that we are old enough to appreciate them. It's a little hard to understand the beauty and novelty of posing with the Leaning Tower of Pisa at the age of 6. So while everyone else has these ADORABLE pictures of them posing as if to look like they are supporting the tower, MY picture is of a very cranky 6 year old with folded arms.... what a brat....

My mother and her girlfriends would take their own little side trips to London, Prague and Budapest, thereby allowing her to have a very large collection of priceless items, that should a small person get their small hands on and perhaps not "handle with care," she would be a tad upset. So over the course of the years, and through a series of umpteen moves, should one of her irreplaceable items somehow fall into the "needing to be replaced" category, she would be upset, naturally, but she would never take it on us with anger. She used guilt.... and the phrase she would use 99.99999% of the time, "I guess I just can't have nice things."

UGH....twist the knife a little deeper...

We hated hearing that.... and I was the one who heard it the most. At Christmas time, we would decorate the tree as a family, and my mother has (or should I say had) these beautiful hand blown glass ornaments she collected in Europe that were dispersed around the tree in between the egg carton ornaments made in Girl Scouts, the clay handprints, and all those Precious Moments angels. Well, every year I think I broke 2 of those irreplaceable hand blown ornaments. Each shatter met with "I guess I just can't have nice things."

Years go by, and ornaments, collectibles and dishes slowly waned out of the cabinets due to Butterfingers Caitlin- and her phrase became a running joke as long as it was accompanied by the appropriate immitation of the face that she made... which was the perfect mixture of disdain, frustration and dissappoinment, maybe with a touch of nausea...

I told you that story to tell you this one.

Since we have moved into our new home, our interent has not been the greatest. For some reason or another- the connection is pretty sporadic, which becomes frustrating to my husband who lives for YouTube videos. As mentioned previously, Lee had to move our ugly bookcase from the nursery to the guest bedroom, well in the course of this action he had to reconnect all of the computer wiring. Our home computer is MY computer from college, which is a very nice HP desktop that I love due to the simplicity and functionality. So when he downloads games and videos and moves it around, I get a little defensive when he does not treat it as nicely as he could.

Well, the other day as he grumbled about the computer not working like it should, I went up to check it out. I checked the connections only to find that when he had reconnected all the wires, he jammed the ethernet cord in backwards and it will not come out. So as I'm venting to my mother about how my husband mistreats the computer, she looks at me and says, "Gosh I guess you just can't have nice things."

Ladies and Gentlemen, I feel this is just the beginning of the "life has come full circle- justice is served" fountain that will forever flow from my mother's lips.

Saddle Up... With or Without Stirrups?

As mentioned before, October 30th, two weeks before our daughter is to arrive, Lee and I are going to the Professional Bull Riding World Finals at the Thomas & Mack Center. I have been specifically instructed NOT to go into LABOR at this event, because Lord knows when Lee will EVER get to go to another one.

Funny as it sounds, I actually adore the PBR- something about the smell of the dirt, sweat and cow poop seems to bring out the friendlier side of Las Vegans. Not to mention the $35 million dollars worth of revenue it brings to our economy every year....ka-ching.... It is also the one place I will let Lee get drunk and chew tobacco (disgusting I know) without complaint- hell, half of the women there are doing the same thing so....when in Rome, I guess.

Regardless of my adoration, the event is TWO weeks before Hailey is supposed to pop out and the Thomas and Mack is not exactly prenatally friendly, with their nine billion staircases. I can see it now.... I stop halfway down the stairs to our seats and just as Chicken on a Chain (yes, actual bull name) bucks off whatever neck braced rider, some old woman will yell "THAT GIRL'S HAVING A BABY!!!" and my grimmacing face will replace the snot slingers on the jumbo-tron. and a hush will fall over the crowd...God help me if the deejay plays the Charlie Daniels' Band as I deliver my daughter...Lee will probably swallow the large wad of chew in his mouth and look around for someone to tell us what to do... but the only person who comes to aid is the rodeo clown in green shorts and face paint, that we'll have to name as honorary godfather....How deliciously country would it be if I did have her on the first night of the PBR? I bet I could somehow work in lifetime boxseats for our family if I could make that happen.... probably get a spot on Oprah.... well maybe not Oprah but DEFINITELY the Bonnie Hunt Show...(note to self... get extra Aquanet and shave legs prior to PBR incase Justin McBride has to deliver baby...)

Accomplishing Enough to Play Hookie

With Hailey's debut somewhere around 26 days away, I decided that after successfully growing a human being, setting up our home, and remaining in a stable marriage through it all, I deserved a day off. I did not want to spend my day doing chores, so last night after our usual trip to the park with Lucy, I came home and tackled our booty from the baby shower. I washed all the onesies and blankets- distributed the diapers between bags and changing table- hung up the rest of the clothes- assembled the baby bath- washed all of the pacifiers and baby toys- and last on the list was to put the swing together. Now, I originally told Lee that when I was finished with the prior mentioned tasks, I would come down stairs and we would assemble the swing together. I guess he couldn't wait for me, because an hour later I hear him opening boxes and the clanging of aluminum parts on the tile floor.

Ok, part of me was THRILLED at the display of initiative- but the other part of me saw the swing being duct taped together due to the frustration with small parts and our daughter cautiously hanging in that duct taped hammock which was sure to greet me as I entered the living room. After gently coaxing him to let me try a hand at the assembly, he surrendered with a mixed mutter of "good luck....piece of shit swing... why couldn't we just buy one already put together?" and AFTER READING THE INSTRUCTIONS, the swing was fully functional 20 minutes later.

Well, this morning Lee was pleased as punch that our house was somewhat restored to order, less clutter, everything was in its place and THANK GOD, nothing else to put together. And just has he reclined on to the couch..... DING DONG!.... I open the door to find the UPS man holding our high chair ( Thank you Aunt DB)...some assembly required. I think I'll wait for my sister to come over until we put that together.

Meanwhile... Back at the Ranch

Behold the most random turn off in Las Vegas. Anyone who comes to visit Las Vegas is always invited to drive outside the city limits and see the majesty that is Red Rock Canyon. There truly is a natural beauty to the sparse vegetation against the rusty striations, that you just should see for youself, particularly at sunrise/sunset.
Anyhoo... on the loop of highway that takes you through the canyon, you will find this oddly alarming yet alluring turn off called Bonnie Springs. (photo courtesy of yelp.com) It prides itself as an authentic bite of an old western mining town. When you first drive past this exit, you'll swear the twang of a solo banjo off in the distance (alarming), but for those who thrive off of nostalgia (alluring) you just have to turn in.
My family found this place when we first moved here, and since then, Lee and I go up every once in a while for their amateur rodeos ( you get to bring your own beer, stay as long as you want and free parking, sure beats the upcoming PBR we just HAVE to go to... separate post....).
A few days before our wedding we went up there with a few friends and did an hour trail ride that was just wonderful. The boys wore every pair of Lee's cowboy boots, and we all nervously tried to remain in control of the 1600lb animals beneath us. I have a history of always getting the cranky/horny horse that sticks its nose where it never belongs. But everything went pretty smoothly, hence no neck braces at the wedding two days later.
Ok, to the point of this post.... while I was at work I called Lee just to see what he was up to, and his reply was "I'm at Bonnie Springs, having a beer, then I'm gonna go pet the bull. I figure I might as well live it up, before the baby gets here."

........(cricket)...............

Reasons why I love my husband:
1. "Living it up" consists of sitting a bar in the middle of nowhere, drinking a beer with the promise of getting to pet a half ton animal, that lounges in its own poop half of the day.
2. I know he changed his outfit to go out to Bonnie Springs so he felt like he would blend in... (plaid button up shirt, cowboy boots, jacket, complete with white Stetson) when he was probably the ONLY one in that bar.
3. His love and desire to live like a cowboy, but looks like a member of the Backstreet Boys.
4. He has yet to discover that children are portable people, not iron ball and chains that are melted to your doorstep.

BUT because I love my husband and all of his adorable traits, I decided to keep these thoughts to myself and let him enjoy his "living it up time" because ultimately I love his simple nature and wouldn't trade him for the world. And when I got home he could not stop talking about how "Rocky" (the bull) followed him around the whole pen and rubbed him with his horns... what more could you ask for?

It's Raining, It's Pouring

My (our) baby shower was yesterday... and it was absolutely perfect. My sister really out did herself. Between the venue (Wolfgang Puck Solaro), all the decorations (handmade of course), the food (delish), and the 900 gifts we received from everyone- it was just fabulous.

It's a funny feeling being "showered," ok wait... being the center of a shower... no, still not right.... having someone throw a party for you, specifically for people to just give you gifts. It's wonderful, of course, to have all these people attend and help celebrate your nuptials, your forthcoming spawn, or... whatever else they throw showers for. But at the same time when it takes you 2 hours to open all of your gifts, it feels like you have to rush through opening everything, but you still want to visibly show your appreciation for each tissue wrapped gift. The further along we got, the more I realized if it were only a little stronger material, I could diaper every child in India with the amount of tissue paper in our gifts.

Halfway through the gifts, my sister held a raffle with the most adorable scratch off cards we found at Etsy.com.

I couldn't wait to get home and (have Sarah) put everything away, and after all the diapers were stored away and the endlessly cute onesies hung in order of age, I truly felt blessed to have so many people already love our child. And all my sister had to say was, "Hey! You have stuff now!"

Yes, yes we do.... gratefully.

A Good Boy

Meet Hank, the slightly hairier one on the left. Hank, is my good friend Brian's bull mastiff that had to take the long nap this past week. Being the animal lovers that we are, we were deeply saddened to hear about our good boy being put to sleep. Hank was suffering from fluid gathering in his lungs, that even after being drained were refilling too quickly for him to be comfortable.

One of my favorite things I ever learned about Hank was that he would dig up Brian's mom's flower beds, and decorate his dog house with the flowers ( what a romantic)... and his gentle giant nature of playing nicely with the little dogs, even though Lucy never really gave him a chance.It's always hard to lose your pet, a friend who loves you faithfully and unconditionally- even if sometimes you only feel it's because you can reach the treats on top of the fridge.Our family had a german shepard mix, Ryka, for 15 years. She was truly my mother's dog, but we all loved her. My sister and I would fight over who got to sleep with her, which was ultimatley a bad decision because she would sprawl out and give you the most uncomfortable nights sleep. Ryka was a given to us when our family was stationed in Germany, and we knew she immediatley belonged with us when within the first 10 minutes of being in the car- she farted. And somehow she was instantly sealed into our hearts, it's funny how the little idiosyncrasies are what last the longest.

After hearing about Hank, and reminiscing about Ryka, I appreciated coming home to my 15 lb porker that much more- and this morning when she woke me up at 3AM to go potty, I wasn't nearly as annoyed as I usually am.

Always Stuck With the Clean Up

My husband has never had a normal work schedule. For as long as I can remember, he has never had an 8-5 job with weekends off. When we first started dating, he was working at the Monte Carlo Hotel and Casino, pulling graveyard shifts as a security guard in the casino and working the door at the Brew Pub. He had Mondays and Tuesdays off, which didn't correlate well with my school schedule those days. Then, he left the casino to work for the Dept. of Corrections, where over the past four years, he has worked 8 hr, 10 hr and 12 hr shifts, never with a day off that matched mine. The poor guy has to drive an hour to work everyday, work ungodly hours, drive an hour home and he doesn't even get a day off with his wife!? ( He prefers it this way I'm sure though, because like most hard working people, on their days off they want to sleep... not start ridiculous projects or be dragged around the grocery store, mall etc...) So the days that Lee has off, after he's taken Lucy to play, napped and made his weekly rounds of Bass Pro Shop, Big 5 Sporting Goods and Carter Power Sports- he meets me for lunch at the office.

This week, we were sitting at Panera Bread talking about his latest obsession with ATVs and pop-up campers, and we started pondering the types of activities Hailey will want to be a part of. Now, let me preface this by saying that part of Lee's excitement that our first child will be a girl, is that he thinks she will want to be with me all the time, thus his schedule mentioned above won't be as harshly disturbed as he once thought. (feel free to say HA! at any moment) And on this particular day, I brought to his attention that most of the little girls I have ever been around, are far more attached to Daddy than they are to Mommy. Lee sits back in his chair, wraps both hands around the bill of his hat and starts laughing, and this is all he said:

"How do I always end up stuck with the clean up of YOUR ideas?" He proceeded to explain himself with the following examples.

When I brought Lucy home, Lee had no say in the matter. He LOVES her, don't get me wrong, but a dachshund-chihuahua blend would not have been his first choice. She now ultimately favors him, from where she naps with him to sitting in his lap while he drives.
At our rental property, I HAD to take down the vertical blinds by the back door and put up curtains, which I made him take down and put back up. (yes, I admit they were pretty terrible)
I also HAD to have a 2'x8' sod box for Lucy in the back yard, that I made him disassemble and remove all 40lbs of materials.
And now, we're having a baby, (which yes, he is very happy about, but we have come to the agreement that most men see the birth of their child more so as a means to an end, while most women see it as just the beginning...) and he is finally realizing that for the next 5 years, he will most likely have a small person wrapped around his leg 96% of the time that he is home.
I think the only thing that makes up for it, is by universal law, MOMS have to have the SEX TALK with the GIRL children.... which is another issue in itself.... that of course, I, am unprepared for....

A Faint but Distinct Line

Throughout the past 35 weeks, this has been the usual conversation between my sister and I :

Her: "you're going to have a BABY..."

Me: " i know...."

Her: "you're going to be a MOM... with a DAUGHTER..."

Me: "i know....."

Like I could somehow possibly forget about the small person breakdancing in my uterus during my busy day of waddling to the bathroom, or stuffing my face. But the other night, with such a short time left until Hailey's debut (that's what I'm call it) the coversation went something more like this:


Her: "you're going to have a BABY..."

Me: "i know..."

Her: "your going to be a MOM.. with a DAUGHTER..."

Me: "i know..."

Her: "but you don't have like... anything. do you even have bottles?"

Me: "i have stuff... i have a crib and diapers and.... boobs"

And that's when it hit me.... I'M HAVING A BABY! I'm going to be completely responsible for another human being, not only that I have to wipe SOMEONE ELSE's butt for at least two years! When people have asked me how I'm feeling now that her due date is fastly approaching, I always tell them that I'm just ready. It seems to be a generic but satisfying enough answer to the people who are mostly asking to either A. be nosy or B. ... well because what else can you really say to an uncomfortable woman??And I've realized that there is a faint but distinct line between being ready and being prepared.

I'm not prepared to have leaky breasts, or clogged milk glands. I have no idea how to properly burp an infant. The thought of infant CPR scares the begeezus out of me. I'm not prepared for her first allergic reaction, which I pray to God is not to pet hair. I'm not prepared for her half hour cry sessions that will knowingly result in me calling my mother and crying to her for just as long. I have never been good at correctly buttoning the footed pajamas, and I am terrified to trim her delicate baby nails.

HOWEVER....

I'm ready to meet her and feel that motherly love and attachment that's supposed to burst out of your chest the moment you hear her first cry, or feel her warm, damp fingers curl around yours. I'm ready to see if she has my flat nose, or Lee's kind eyes and if her feet are truly going to be as large as the sonographer says they will be. I'm ready to feel that narcissistic pride of knowing there is another piece of me walking the earth.... I am also definitely ready to be 40 pounds lighter.

Playing Catch Up

So... the last 6 weeks are somewhere suspended in time. I've felt a little like Alice in Wonderland just spinning in the dark around clocks and numbers... you know those days where you swear it was Wednesday all day only to find out it's Monday? Yeah... a lot of those, but between buying our first home, moving our of our rental property, growing a baby and NOT getting divorced through the whole process, I think anyone would understand that I couldn't care less what day of the week it was- especially since the TV line ups still suck, and my daily nap falls right between 8-10pm anyways.



Just a quick recap....


Lee and I are fully moved into our new home, and we absolutely love it. Lee loves it so much that he actually DUSTS the furniture when he comes home!!! I'll let you absorb that for a minute.... LEE..... my husband.....uses PLEDGE FURNITURE POLISH...... WEEKLY..... to ACTUALLY CLEAN FURNITURE.... so proud.


Lucy lost a battle against our sliding screen door and is now on muscle relaxers, pain relievers and anti inflammatory meds... which the first night it happened we swear she absolutely needed. She looked completely miserable and wailed like someone hit her with a car. But the next few days she was fine, chasing her heroin-like addiction to the flashlight as usual and trotting around with her frisbee... but after an overnight at my mom's house, she's back at the vet for a full body scan. $200 later, we get back to our house and what do you know? She's absolutley fine. Lee and I believe she senses the baby coming and is acting out, because there are mornings when I wake up to Lucy licking my face with such conviction that she must think "maybe if I lick you enough I can stop this whole baby thing.... you still have the receipt don't you?" So whether it's a physical or emotional pain, we've yet to figure out... but the meds make her sleep through my twice nightly potty breaks- so that's a plus.


Yes, I am now at the point where should I roll slightly to the left during the night, I could very well unleash what feels like Lake Huron onto the left side of our bed. So faithfully every night at 1:47 and 3:45 (call me, I'll be up)I waddle myself to the bathroom only to find out the rush of the Great Lake has become the slow leak of an antique bathtub. Fabulous.


I have also become a prime target of strange women in the supermarkets. And all of these women swear up and down I am carrying myself just as they did before they popped out all their strapping sons.... and then they look at me sweetly and say "What are you going to name HIM?" And when I kindly and unnecessarily reply that our DAUGHTER's name will be HAILEY, they all give a slightly puzzled smile and say "oh, well you might be surprised, it could still be a boy..."
hmmmmmm.... thanks. I actually find that a terrible and horrifying thing to say to an 8 month pregnant woman whose nursery and mother are already well prepared for a female offspring.


The nursery is almost complete, once Lee and his brother move our eyesore of a computer desk out of it, I will post a picture of her adorable and generously given crib and changing table (thanks Grammy Pammy).

She'll Always be Our First

Our darling little girl is 10 weeks away from being the "older sister," and we have a sense she is none to happy about it, what only child wouldn't be? We've been trying our hardest to do everything the "right way" when it comes to your pet and a new baby; we let her smell all the baby clothes, the diapers and the bedding- I even left her with at my mom's when our nephew was in town so she could have some kiddie time. But still, Lee can't help but feel sorry for her and what is about to be her topsy-turvy world. On top of the baby coming, we finally closed on our new house(hooray!) and have been slowly moving into it. Every once in a while we take Lucy with us and let her run around the house- this only results in the most horrendous nervous gas on the car ride back home.
So, being the good daddy that Lee is he moved our overstuffed chair into the house at his first opportunity hoping that when we take her to the NEW house, it smells faintly familiar to our OLD house and she wouldn't be so nervous. ( I know.... adorable.) And wouldn't you know it? The very FIRST thing Lucy does when we get to the new house is hop up in that chair and "supervise" as her parents moan and groan pushing around boxes and arguing over the precise placement of the couch versus the love seat.
Everyone keeps telling us that when Hailey comes, we won't be so concerned with Lucy because we'll be too busy with the baby. As with all of the non-solicited advice we receive, we smile and say "We'll see.." When in REALITY, when it comes to that particular advice, I telepathically give them the finger... no offense, and maybe these people just aren't "dog people" or maybe we're the weird ones because we are "dog people"- but we both have the strongest hopes that the transition goes somewhat easily for Lucy, because we love her and yes she maybe furry, and have nervous gas, and maybe slightly addicted to anything that gives a light reflection, but she will always be our first baby.

Turn on a....

Just in case you were wondering... a US dime fits snugly in my belly button.

I guess I really had no concept of how big "we" are getting, that was until my mother started taking pictures of me this weekend. With our nephew in town, every day has multiple photo ops, and I have officially realized that I do indeed look my gestational age, even if the camera didn't add 10 pounds (which is where most of it HAS to be from). Everyone has been really nice about it, saying "oh at least it's all in your belly..." or my Dr.'s favorite line " well, you don't look pregnant from behind!" THANK GOD MY BUTT DOESN'T LOOK PREGNANT! ( whatever that would look like, I'm not sure...) Anyways, I've decided that as of today, I fully embrace the whale-like state that I have become and will further graduate into in the next 11 weeks. So come on pregnant butt, show yourself... I'm ready... 79 days to go.

Can you OD on Potassium?

The past few days, I have HAD to have as many bananas as possible, as in I have eaten three or four in one sitting... well I usually finish one before I even sit down. The only catch is, I get terrible heartburn afterward. How one of the most bland foods on the planet does that to me is beyond me. Dr. gave me a RX for Zantac, but I never got it filled because A. the heartburn was never that bad and B. I'm never very good at remember to take meds on time or repetitively. Lee and I are not very big on popping pills for every little thing, so the only thing we had in the house was Children's Pepto ( Lucy gets a dose every once in a while after a visit to Grandma Pam's House of Endless Ribs and Dog Treats). So here I am in the kitchen thinking... this could work right? Nausea, Heartburn, Indigestion... everybody sing along now.... YAY! Pepto Bismol! Well it worked anyways, so this is what the kitchen counter is stocked with. 82 days to go.

Behold...Her Cavernous Navel

So my sister and I decided to take a few pictures of my now well rounded belly. We tried the first few sitting down in her papasan chair only to reveal that you could eat a small serving a cheerios out of my belly button. I feel fortunate to still have an "innie" but.... GEEZ! With my next update I will let you know which American currency presently fits in there. Annnyways, we tried a variety of angles only to discover that there really is no attractive way to photgraph the additional 30 pounds that is hanging of my front end. That's right.... THIRTY POUNDS. I know Hailey is measuring rather large, but she really has to stop ordering take out at 2AM and she should probably cut back on that daily jar of peanut butter... which brings me to a wonderful update.
It seems that when you are pregnant and eating ungodly amuonts of peanut butter, you can completely ward off anemia and gestational diabetes. We had our first last trimester check up today, and the Dr. says that I show NO traces of either. She asked me if I was consuming large amounts of meat because my iron levels were really strong. I explained to her that the shear thought of red meat is repulsive and strictly prohibited in our house, and that most of my protein has come from either a turkey sandwich or a ladle full of peanut butter ( that may or may not have been smothered ontop of a chocloate chip cookie, I mean.... apple slices).
All in all, mother and baby checked out just fine, which is all we can ask for right? 83 days to go.

A little catching up

Now that I've finally made it into the last trimester, it seems there isn't much to do but sit and wait. It seems as if the first 12 weeks crawled by and now here I am in the last 12 weeks grasping at the calendar days as they fly away. Being pregnant with her has given us a whole new perspective on the world. Yes, "her." Even though we swore up and down that a baby boy was going to give testosterone a fighting chance in our house, the ultrasound brought a crashing halt to that train of thought. Now poor Lee will have to constantly dodge the estrogen meteors for the next 18 years. He says he knew never stood a chance anyways.

It has been so fun to watch her grow, both excitedly on the ultrasound screen and bittersweetly in my waistline. I feel blessed that I got to skip the morning sickness and other terrors that EVERY other woman who has EVER been pregnant HAS to tell you to watch out for and how to take care of it. Maybe it was the fear of having half of my head be curly and the other half straight or having those tiger claw stretch marks, that mentally prepared me for what little symptoms I did have, to make them seem not so bad.

All in all, Lee and I both feel extremely lucky to be where we are and to have each other and our families to share in it.. not to mention all the strangers at Starbucks my mother just HAS to tell. So here starts the count down to Hailey Maureen's world debut.... 84 days to go