The home stretch... if I can just keep from killing someone before the baby arrives

With less than three weeks until my due date (FYI: my due date is Christmas Day so you might want to get that holiday shopping done-- and quick), I'm used to some second looks and questions about when I'm due, what I'm having, etc. And some comments about how hard it's going to be to have a toddler and a newborn (yes, I'm aware...)

For the most part, people have been nice. Today, FunnyKid and I went into a coffee shop and immediately attracted the attention of a man sitting at a nearby table wearing a "Grandpa" T-shirt. He had really nice things to say about FunnyKid's behavior and asked a bunch of questions about my pregnancy. He wished me luck and that was that.

Except our conversation must have somehow attracted one of the workers, who bolted out of a back room and loudly asked "do you have one baby in there or two?" Stunned, I answered, "just one" and she replied, "Sorry. I had to ask."

Um, listen, bee-yotch, you did not HAVE to ask and while I have a very obvious belly (again, due to being two and a half weeks from my due date), I am nowhere near looking like I'm hauling around twins. I know this because I immediately started texting the Pretend Husband and a bunch of my friends to tell them what happened and they assured me I look like a normal pregnant woman. Then they gave me a bunch of comebacks I wished I had thought of, such as "What are you talking about? I'm not pregnant" and "Enough about me. When are YOU due?"

I wasn't prepared for someone to be so rude to be today, but I'm ready now. Just let someone try to imply I'm fat again and I will be using every zinger my friends and family gave me. You just don't mess with a pregnant woman.

My, how a kid changes your priorities...

Last year at this time, I would have considered my biggest accomplishments to be meeting a deadline at work, avoiding too much traffic on my commute home and getting a decent meal on the table for dinner.

My latest big accomplishment is the fact that I finally fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans. A small accomplishment, for sure, but you would never know it from the happy dances I've been doing ever since.

Why yes, I do still have some baby weight to lose...

I will always gladly show off photos of my adorable four-month-old. I will not, however, smile while I'm doing it if you are only ask to see the photos as you backpedal from asking me when I'm due.

When am I due? Beginning of September, but I had the baby at the end of August. I will take your awkwardness as an apology.

Reasons why I don't miss being pregnant

With SJ nearing the end of her pregnancy, she has had-- understandably-- more frequent complaints about how she feels. And while it might make most people think, "Thank goodness I'm past all that..." it actually makes me miss being pregnant (a little). But rather than wallow in reasons I wish I were still pregnant, I came up with some reasons to be happy I'm not.

-- When the Pretend Husband learned I was no longer allowed to sleep on my back, he appointed himself the Sleep Police. I was frequently woken up by him poking me and saying, "Roll over." And if that weren't bad enough, I sometimes woke up to find him groping me as he tried to determine whether I was lying on my back. I don't miss being woken up all the time.

-- By the end of my pregnancy, I was incredibly swollen, especially in my hands and feet. I couldn't fit into anything other than flip-flops and often woke up to find my hands frozen into claws because of the fluid in my joints. I had so much fluid that, a week after giving birth, I had already lost 20 pounds. I won't talk about how much sweating I had to do in that week to get rid of that much fluid...

-- Oh yeah, and the last reason to be glad I'm no longer pregnant is being able to see the little being who I knew only as the kicking, hiccuping thing in my belly. And what a cute little being he is:

One born... one still cooking...

First off, let me just publicly reiterate that KAT and the PH make a damn fine looking kid, if I do say so.

Between the squishy baby cheeks and the little kissy face, he's really quite adorable. Which is perfect, you realize, because obviously, I'm excited to have such a cute son-in-law.

As KAT and the PH adjust to life with the newborn, J and I have been extremely busy finding goats, getting deeds to our tract of land, going through our Wii games, etc. You know. All to arrange the dowry.

The only problem I foresee is that instead of having a sweet little baby girl, my womb appears to be occupied right now by a very large starfish.

It's the only way I can explain feeling simultaneous kicks to both of my ribs and my groin at the same time. We've ruled out twins, thanks to some very active, very thorough ultrasounds. But at some point since then, my child has obviously morphed into an exoskeletal sea creature.

I am starting to get a little anxious as my impending due date approaches, of course. Particularly after my doctor announced at my last appointment that my baby seems to be going through ANOTHER growth spurt. (At one point, she said "Whoa. That is the head.") I'm taking it in stride though. Perhaps she'll settle down a bit... relax. Maybe slow the growth a bit so she's not, you know, a toddler at delivery.

But, the FunnyKid has inspired us to move along our baby preparedness efforts so that little FunnyGirl can have a place to lay her tiny head.

Note: chandelier installed. But we don't have a single diaper in the house. Or a car seat yet.

Why my mom deserved a medal

I pulled out my baby book the other day to check on how much I weighed at birth. While I was a normal weight (I weighed 8 pounds, 7 ounces), I discovered I was born almost THREE WEEKS after my due date. Seriously, three weeks. And only after they induced my mom.

You know how, while people talk about the nine months of pregnancy, it's actually 10 months long? Well, my mom was pregnant for almost 11 months! I'm surprised she didn't love me much less than my siblings for putting her through that (or, at least she didn't show it!)

At this point, I'm just hoping the timing of FunnyKid's arrival isn't hereditary. I'm counting down the final two weeks of this pregnancy (hoping it doesn't go quite that long) and don't think I could take it if I had to go another three weeks past that.

Keeping it in perspective...

The Pretend Husband has picked up a lot of the slack since I was put on bed rest. The other day he not only remembered his mom's birthday was coming up, but he went out and bought her a beautiful bouquet of flowers to mark the occasion (he's good about stuff like that-- but usually only after I remind him of upcoming birthdays and come up with a gift idea).

When he got home that day, he gave me a bouquet of daisies he had bought at the same time he got his mom's flowers. When SJ and J came over the next day, I started teasing the PH, saying, "Look at the pretty daisies the PH got me. Of course, his mom got a huge bouquet that included orchids..."

The PH's response? "It's her birthday. You're just pregnant."

(Just for that, I had better be getting the biggest bouquet he can carry when I give birth to his child!)

I'm a kept woman

Kat's lil sis yelled at me yesterday and told me I had better post something soon so no one thinks I had the baby and that's what's keeping me away from the blog. So, are you all on FunnyGals Baby Watch 1.0?

Unfortunately, the reason for my lack of posting is much less exciting that the arrival of FunnyKid. I was pulled out of work and put on bed rest so not only do I not have a computer, but being away from the office and not allowed to be out interacting with Wal-Mart cashiers has left me with a lack of funny material. That, and it's so hard to type out a post on an iPhone.

Fortunately-- but only in the sense that it gives me material-- I have been admitted to Labor & Delivery twice in the past week for monitoring. So there is at least the story about the nurse who came into the room to draw blood and, upon hearing how much I hate needles, said, "Oh, I do too! I cry when I see them."

Uh, OK. It turns out she is able to hold herself together when drawing other people's blood, but loses it when it's her own blood in question. Still, the experience didn't go well and ended with another nurse poking into my other hand to get the job done.

Speaking of which, I have become an expert at giving blood and urine samples since each is required of me every couple of days to check on the pregnancy-induced hypertension I am experiencing. I'm not yet sure how I'm going to make this translate into a party game, but there's got to be some potential to put these skills to use somewhere.

So, no baby. No great stories. Lots of laying around on the couch. Any ideas for boredom busters I can do while laying on my side are greatly appreciated.

Well, THAT'S never happened before...

SJ and I checked out a couple of tag sales this weekend to make sure there isn't any baby stuff we're missing (conclusion: there isn't). At one of the tag sales, the 10-year-old son of the woman hosting the sale starting following us around all used car salesman-like. "Is there anything in particular you're looking for? I can help you find it." "Did you see this toy? It's in great shape."

It was cute... for the first few minutes. And then I felt like saying, "Listen, can you let me browse through your family's crap in peace?" But, somehow, despite my looking exclusively at the baby stuff and-- you know-- the huge belly protruding in front of me, he missed the fact that I was pregnant until his mom asked when I am due.

I answered and that's when Car Salesman Jr. said, "You're having a baby?" and then reached.out.and.rubbed.his.hands.all.over.my.stomach. I mean, I understand the fascination little old ladies have with pregnant bellies, but getting groped by a 10-year-old is a first for me.

And just to show what an evil mind I have, my first thought as this happened was the desire to point at SJ and proclaim, "She's pregnant too!" while running for the safety of the car.

Lessons learned in Pregnancy. Part 1.

I have been in blog hibernation for some time now.  Not that I haven't been reading, etc. But I have tried to collect stories from time to time, only to promptly forget them. But, to celebrate a return to bloggyville, I have put together the first in a series of lessons I have learned over the past 6 months of being preggers.

First off, I guess I have some news to divulge (though if you follow me on Twitter @sjlz, you may already know this)....

The baby that is happily kicking away in my belly? It's a ..... girl!!

Which brings me to lesson #1:
Ultrasound technicians are very sweet and kind people, but generally speaking, very clinical. When I asked her "How sure are you?" (because that's what all of the baby books suggest if you really want to know what you're having), she proceeded to show us - and label - our baby girl's "girl parts" - but using the most clinical terms. I thought my husband was going to pass out when she said the word "Labia."

Lesson #2:
Everyone is psychic, and everyone will predict for you what you're having. They will all be 100 percent sure. Now, I have thought that I was having a girl for some time. In fact, since the moment I knew I was pregnant, I have thought it was a girl. I remember getting in my husband's car about a week and a half before I'd know for sure and gagging at the smell of the air conditioner. My first thought was: I'm pregnant, and it's a girl. But, of course that didn't stop people from telling me, over the next 18 weeks or so what I was carrying. It's low, so it's a boy. It's wide, so it's a girl. It's low, so it's a girl... you get the point.

In fact, one woman - a practical stranger - was so convinced I was carrying a boy that when I gently told her that I actually knew that it was, in fact, a girl, she said to me: "Maybe you're having twins." Really?! It's not possible that you may be wrong, practical stranger? Instead, you're going to assert your instinct over medical science?

Lesson #3:
Morning sickness does not always happen in the morning, and it does not necessarily stay away after the magical 13 week mark. Mine came back. As did some of my strange food aversions. If I even look at a box of raisins, I fight the urge to gag. Some smells are still so powerful and overbearing that I just can't be around them.

Lesson #4:
No matter how hard you try: you will pee when you sneeze or laugh, you will randomly burst into tears over silly things, your baby will kick you at inopportune times (like when you're in your boss' office and it's not a time for distraction or laughter - and this is usually the time the kicks tickle you in some way).

Lesson #5:
Some things that once mattered to you, will just float away. This is true for a lot of things in my life, but one of the more obvious and trivial things: I eventually gave up makeup. Every once in a while, I'll bust out the Benefit and apply a dash of make up and throw on some lip gloss. And by every once in a while I mean... once a month. And this is from a Sephora-loving addict. My fancy collection of makeup, mascara, lip gloss, tools and brushes sits in a drawer. After week 16 or so, I just stopped wearing it. My skin had finally cleared up from first trimester acne and it darkened, so my light colored makeup would no longer fit the bill. And, mind you, I was someone who NEVER went out in public without makeup. Not since I was 17 or so. The glow that people refer to, in my case, is my oily t-zone, unadorned by product to try to lessen the problem.

There are a LOT more lessons I've learned, and continued to learn. Before I break out with part 2 - I'd love to hear some lessons from the other moms out there.

What have you learned?

Working on the Wife of the Year Award

The Pretend Husband called me to ask me whether he could get together with some friends in another state the weekend after FunnyKid is due to arrive. My response was to say we would need to wait and see when the kiddo arrives and what kind of baby they are. I mean, if the baby is three weeks old and sleeps for up to three hours between feedings, then I would have no problem with the PH leaving for a day and a half. But if he or she is five days old and wakes up every hour, then no, the PH is not leaving me because I'm going to need the support.

The PH was shocked at my response because he thought he would get an immediate no, followed by "Are you nuts?!?" So he is happy to wait and see where we stand when that weekend rolls around.

Of course, I couldn't just let it go at that (as proud as I am with my status as the "coolest wife ever" right now). I called him a couple of hours later and said, "You know that weekend you want to go away? Well, SJ wants to have a girls' weekend in Boston the following weekend. You know, one last getaway before her baby is born. Is it OK if I go?"

Let's just say the PH is not even in the running for Husband of the Year. He started to panic and said things like, "What about feeding the baby? Can you pump that early? Is SJ really going to be in the mood to walk around Boston all day? It's different from me going away. The baby doesn't rely on my body for its nutritional needs." I made him sweat for awhile ("Well, it's only fair if you get to go") before revealing that I had made the whole thing up.

I like to keep the guy on his toes.

(Make sure you check back tomorrow-- Wednesday-- for a special post. I won't give away the subject, but it's something I write about only once a year...)

There goes my dream of being a supermodel's mom

I had an extra ultrasound yesterday because the doctor thought FunnyKid might be measuring big (he or she is actually a tad on the small side so that's science for ya!) This is the third ultrasound I've had and it went about as well as the first two.

Meaning, we have some great photos of an arm, a foot and the baby's spine-- but none that would, you know, actually identify the subject as an actual baby. Last time, the baby was facing my back and wouldn't show his or her face for anything. This time, the little bugger kept putting a hand in front of his or her face (please, no flash photography!)

It's par for the course since every time FunnyKid gets all playful and jumpy inside me, it only takes me telling someone to put their hand on my stomach if they want to feel the baby for the little one to settle right down and pretend they've been asleep the whole time (people may be questioning my sanity...)

Yesterday, the kiddo took it a step further and was not only wholly uncooperative with having his or her photo taken, but actually kicked the ultrasound wand. Seriously, the kick was so hard, the wand popped up off my belly.

Ok, maybe he or she won't be a model, but I'm still holding out for professional soccer player.

My parents should have named me Grace

Because being eight months pregnant isn't enough of a challenge, I went ahead and broke my toe last night. (Well, maybe. The Pretend Husband thinks it might just be badly sprained, but it's painful nonetheless). It wasn't even doing something acrobatic or daring-- I pulled open a door without getting my foot fully out of the way and smashed the littlest toe.

Whether it's sprained or broken, it really hurts. I have worn nothing but flip-flops for the last three months, but even those are bothering it. They are kicked off under my desk right now.

The PH has been semi-sympathetic to my pain. He has made all the right noises ("I'm sorry you're in pain) and he also suggested I give the breathing technique I plan on using during childbirth a try ("If it doesn't work for a little toe, you should probably be looking for something else to use for labor!") He has a point.

My weirdest pregnancy symptom...

I have no scientific backing for this statement, but multiple tests run by yours truly have proven it: pregnancy improves your aim. I can throw a piece of paper into a trash can from across the room. I have even tossed things over my shoulder without looking and made it in. I stunned the Pretend Husband the other day by lobbing something into the garbage from three-point range. I can't miss!

So, while my ankles are swollen to the point of non-existence and I can't remember my own name half the time, I have some mad basketball skills to fall back on. I'm thinking of creating a team of pregnant women and petitioning the WNBA for admission.

That eight minutes even included three questions asked and answered!

Dear Doctor,

I realize your time is valuable. Which is why I was not only on time for my appointment this morning, but I was even early. We have to see each other every two weeks now, so I figure it doesn't hurt to butter you up a bit.

But when I got to the window to sign in, the woman in front of me mentioned she was there to see you, too, leading me to believe your office double-books you. Which is fine with me, especially because my appointments these days never last more than 10 minutes.

But the question remains, why did they have you take the woman with the 45-minute appointment before the preggo with the 10-minute one? If you're going to leave a patient waiting, isn't it better to have her sitting there for 10 minutes rather than 45? And, by the way, you saw me for all of eight minutes, which would have meant even less time for Miss Full Examination And Then Some to wait.

Yes, you have a very important job that sometimes takes longer than the time allotted. But I consider my job to be pretty important too (especially because I'd like to keep it and not get fired for being gone half the morning). I hope you will take this into consideration for future appointments.

Regards,

Your Patient (although probably not your favorite)

I'm engaged to my husband!

Look what I got...

It's big, it's shiny and it's 100 percent fake. As the weather has heated up, my fingers have gotten a lot more swollen to the point where I can no longer wear my wedding and engagement rings.

I feel a little funny being knocked up and not wearing a ring so I had the idea to hit up Kohl's to buy the gaudiest rock I could. The Pretend Husband preferred I get something that could actually pass as a real engagement ring, which is how I ended up with this one. And it's weird not wearing my rings, but this one will do. After we paid $8 for it and were leaving the store, I said to the PH, "Why did you spend thousands of dollars on my ring? You could have saved so much money by buying it here!"

I may be fooling myself, but I think it looks pretty real (I realize the photo is a bit fuzzy). I also think I'm being a little silly by feeling like I need to wear a ring while pregnant. What do you think? Do people notice that kind of thing? Should I care?

Not your usual love letter to baby...

Dear Herbie (aka the kid in my belly),

I had your father speak to you about this yesterday, but I think it bears repeating. That's not a pillow. Or a trampoline. It's my bladder. And you jumping on it or using it as a place to rest your head has consequences for me. Like having to try really hard not to pee when I laugh. Or having to run to the bathroom every 20 minutes. Or waking up every three hours during the night.

I love you, Herbie, and I want you to have a good time in there. Punch my belly as many times as you want. Make it pop out in weird places. And definitely kick the palm of your dad's hand when he rests it near you (we both love that). But, please, let's make the bladder off-limits, shall we?

Actually, forget that I asked. You WILL stop kicking me in the bladder. There, I said it. Why will you do that? Because I'm your mother and I said so.

Love, Mom

You know you're really pregnant when MEN start noticing...

Today was a first. While I've had women ask me about my pregnancy, I think most men know not to ask questions until they are absolutely positive a woman is carrying a child and hasn't just packed on some pounds. And even if they know for sure, most men aren't going to get involved further than something innocent like, "How are you feeling?"

Which is why it's funny that my boss-- a man-- saw me turn sideways today and said loudly, "Wow! There's no hiding that!" while pointing at my stomach (not that I was trying to hide it anyway). I responded with, "Yup, definitely pregnant. I wasn't lying."

The conversation prompted a male customer standing nearby to begin asking me questions and talking about how awesome pregnancy and birth are (uh, ok...) While I have no problem swapping stories with women, it just felt strange to do it with a guy.

So, what do you think? Does this shirt make me look pregnant?

Can I tell you how funny I think it is that the PH went to take the picture and then said, "Oh, wait" and moved a bit so he could get "more of the pond in the photo." Yeah, because it's not like I was supposed to be the subject or anything. Got to make sure we can see the pond!

Dude, five times in one night!

Back when SJ and I started this blog (waaaay back in aught five), that title would have been pretty self-explanatory. Either my crazy single self hooked up with that many guys or SJ (engaged at the time) was bragging about the number of shots she had done.

But, alas, it's been a busy four and a half years for us. Marriage, moving into multiple houses, dogs galore... oh, and that part where I got knocked up and SJ found herself with child. We've left behind those crazy girls nights filled with chocolate martinis, the random use of tiaras and some epic hangovers the next day (I learned my lesson the time I spent an entire funeral willing myself not to throw up in church).

Instead, we make mocktails out of juice and sip them out of martini glasses. And we discuss which pregnancy-related symptoms we have rather than which dude I should grant a second date to. And the only shopping I've been doing lately is for a cute outfit for the FunnyKid rather than cute shoes for myself.

And that title? Well, apparently, the FunnyKid thought my bladder made a nice, soft pillow and that's how many times I got up to pee last night. *Sigh* My, how times have changed.

Next option is a bikini-- and believe me, NO ONE wants that...

With the temperature soaring this weekend, the Pretend Husband and I decided to hit the beach. I had two options for maternity swim tops-- a black number my sister gave me and a black number I picked up somewhere. But, when I went to try them on, I found each of the tops had their own drawbacks.

Kat's lil sis is, uh, not as top-heavy as I am so the plunging V, which probably looked great on her and showed off a little cleavage, was more like the start of a strip show for me. And the other top fit well in front, but had one small tie across the back, essentially leaving my whole back (and large, pregnant butt) open to the elements (although I should clarify I had bottoms on so my wide butt was covered, but not at all camouflaged...)

Having to choose between an unflattering look I couldn't see (my butt) and one I could (my chest), I chose the one I could keep an eye on. The afternoon then consisted of my trying to keep from flashing the beach every time I moved, the PH throwing panicked looks my way when he thought something was about to happen and some weird placement of my arms in an effort to not teach sex education to the little kids in the area before they were ready for it.

Needless to say, I will be shopping for a new maternity swimsuit this week. Do you think they come in "turtleneck?"