Ooooh, shiny.

Notice the new beautifulness that is my blog? Yeah. It's pretty sweet. This is what I get for sitting through four years of The Husband's graphic design projects in college... I am easily bored and end up redesigning things on a whim. It's helping me keep my mind off the fact that The Bean is due one week from today. Scary, huh? Technically he could come at any point from here on out. The doctor said he'd be surprised if I made it to my next appointment on Tuesday, and my mother is convinced that I'm going into labor tomorrow (Friday). Uh, we'll see.

The Husband has been kicking butt and taking names with the job search stuff over the last few days; hopefully we'll start hearing back from companies soon. I've been on maternity leave from the restaurant since the first of the year, and I'm really paranoid that they won't let me take more than the federally mandated six weeks, which means that I will only have a couple weeks after the baby's born to actually re-adjust before going back to work. Sigh.

Right now, though, I'm going to enjoy the brownies I made... although I probably should actually eat dinner first. Problem is, nothing is defrosted, so I have no idea what I'm going to make. After that, I have a PBS documentary to watch called "the Human Spark" that I Tivo-ed last night. What's the best part? My favorite person in the world is hosting it. Brownies +Hawkeye= a good, good night.

Doh.

So, I had this ridiculously long post written about absolutely nothing in particular. It was all about how I have become both incredibly ADD and incredibly OCD throughout my entire pregnancy. I started it, got really obsessive about it, and then lost interest in the whole post when I decided I was hungry. Here's the very short version:

• I am obsessed with Alan Alda. I even married a man that looks a little like him.
• I am in full-on nesting mode. I have reorganized the kitchen, my walk-in closet, my room, and all of my bookshelves in the last week and a half since going on maternity leave.
• I am also obsessive about really strange things. For example, my pantry is now organized in a very specific manner, and God help whoever puts the flour next to the canned tomatoes. (Baking goods are not canned goods and the two should have nothing to do with each other!)
• I am quite possibly the only person in the world who has her books organized by genre, and her history books sub-organized both chronologically and geographically. Seriously, it's like freaking Borders on my bookshelves.
• Our poor son has no chance of not turning out to be a complete nerd. I really should start a "send Charlie to psychotherapy fund" now.

Imagine each one of those points having two or three paragraphs. Yeah. A little much.

In other news, I am officially on maternity leave, and have been since New Year's. We had a bit of a false alarm on NYE, and I decided I was just not doing the whole "being on my feet dealing with crabby hungry people in a restaurant eight hours a day" thing anymore while carrying around the kid. So instead I pace around the house, check Facebook seventeen times an hour, and do baby laundry four times a week. I have seriously considered starting a Twitter account out of pure boredom. It's that or watch six episodes of The Simpsons a day. (Maybe I'll tweet while watching The Simpsons? Eat my shorts.)

The Bean is due 9 days from now ( as my doctor said, "But who's counting?" He smirked at me this morning when he said that. Not cool, dude), but honestly I could go at any point, apparently. I'm 50% effaced, but not dilated at all, which sucks. So, until I actually pop, I'm keeping myself busy by helping The Husband job hunt, baking an insane amount of brownies, and watching cartoons I never got to see when I was a kid.

By the time Charlie comes out, I'm going to have the mentality of a 12 year old boy. (Let's not talk about how this isn't really much of a stretch...)

Guilty Confessions

I really hate New year's Resolutions. Honestly, I don't think many people are fond of them, but I have always absolutely abhorred them. They smack of false promises to yourself-- I mean, honestly, I have a lot of respect for people who lose 60 pounds, find a fabulous new career, and save the whales all in one year, but honestly, I'm more of a small scale girl. I like to space my goals out throughout the year and make them manageable-- work on furthering my education, try to go for walks or to the gym more often, etc. If you have a big goal, definitely go for it, but do it on your own terms, you know?

That's what I want this next year to be about-- doing things on my own terms. Granted, my focus has changed just a little from last year. Then, I was focused on getting through The Internship From Hell and planning a wedding and graduating from college, all of which happened in a two week period of each other. I never imagined that this year would be the year The Husband and I would be expecting to add to our family, but now, 17 days from the Bean's due date, I've gone into full-on mommy mode--- which to be honest, is a little scary.

I'm a researcher by nature--- when I'm freakingtheheckout about something, I read and study about it obsessively. This whole parenting gig is no exception. In the last nine months I've read literally thousands of articles about everything from epidurals to sleep training. There seems to be one overarching theme in all of this-- guilt. Parents are literally damned if they do, damned if they don't for every decision they make from the moment they conceive. One rather well-known book that will remain nameless but whose title rhymes with "Schmut to Schmecspect..." had me terrified that because I had a cocktail before I ever concieved, my child would come out with three heads. I put that book down rather quickly after that.

So here's my over-arching goal for the next year: I will not succumb to mommy guilt. I will not.

• Yes, I'm going to try to do the birth medication-free. I'd like to see if I can. But if I make the decision to get the epidural or anything else to help The Bean or me have an easier time, I will not feel bad. The end goal is a healthy baby and mommy, not bragging rights at yoga class.
  
• Yes, I'm going to try to breastfeed. (Ohh, this is a loaded one). If it doesn't work, I will do whatever I need to in order to make sure that my son is well-fed and happy. Either way, I will not feel bad. I am doing what I need to to make sure my son is healthy.
  
• On that note, I might just breastfeed in public (gasp!). I don't plan on whipping my boobs out unsheltered-- let's be honest, they're pretty big. I might put out an eye with these puppies. But I refuse to feel bad about feeding my son behind a shield where nobody can see anything, even if I look like an idiot in adult bib. And I'll be damned if I'm going into a bathroom to feed him. Would you eat in a bathroom?
• I know that I will be, by turns, tired, frustrated, exhausted, frantic, and just a little bit psycho. I will not feel bad about asking for help when I need it. I am not Superwoman, as much as would like to think I am. The Husband and I will need support. This is nothing to be ashamed of. I will get my pride out of the way, and I will allow myself to be human and feel human emotions.
• I will make baby-free time for my husband and I. Maybe we'll leave The Bean with Grandma and Grandpa for a weekend and go somewhere. Or just ask someone to watch him for a couple hours while we go for a date. But I will not feel bad for taking time to build up the most important adult relationship I have. Our marraige being strong is the best gift The Husband and I could ever give our children, much more so than seeing them 24 hours a day. If we can first and foremost show our love for each other, our children will always know that they are loved-- they are a product of that love.

There's a lot more that falls under this category, but the main point is this: I refuse to feel bad about the choices I make for my family. I will do everything in my power to make sure we are all--- me included--- healthy, happy, loved, and growing in our relationships. But if I give my 8-month-old a taste of my ice cream this summer, I will not agonize over whether he's going to have weight issues for the rest of his life. If my kid has a pacifier for longer than the books say he should, oh well. Above all, I want to be flexible. So I might be a baby-wearing, non-circumsizing, breastfeeder--or not-- and I might at the same time also be a non-cosleeping, weaning-early, sleeptrainer. And I'm ok with that.

Mea Culpa

I realized tonight that it's been almost two months since I las posted. I really have no excuse, other than the fact that I've just been too damn lazy to actually do much lately other than work and sleep. Actually, that's not entirely true; I've been working on a huge freelance project for the Seattle Children's Museum that I just finished up the other night. It was such a blessing to be able to have the extra work, especially as The Husband is still job-hunting.

However, there's a distinct possibility that those days are coming to an end-- he's in the running for this amazing job back at the school we graduated from. It really is his dream job, so we're praying hard that it all works out the way it's supposed to. It's just a bit crazy because if it does happen, we'll most likely be moving across the country a couple weeks before The Bean makes his appearance.

Not a long post for today, but just trying to get my feet wet back in the blog pond and make a commitment to actially keeping this thing updated. My goal is to liveblog through delivery for everyone who can't be there, so that means I actually have to be dedicated to it beforehand. Time to crack down, I guess.

Aww, I'm loved!

I received this adorable award from Krystal over at Tap That Mom the other day. I'll try to pass this on to some of my favs later this week... right now I'm pretty exhausted. I had a pretty bad fall at work today, and the doctor wanted me to come in just to get checked out, so we had to go to the ER as I didn't get off work until after 9 PM.

Thank goodness, everything is ok, and we got new ultrasound pics of The Bean. The staff was fantastic-- sweet, professional, completely on top of things, and best of all, I was in and out in less than two hours, which involved heart rate monitoring, an ultrasound, and blood workups.

Needless to say, though, it's been a long day, especially because I worked a double shift and have been fighting a rather severe cold/ flu thingy for the last couple of days. I'm feeling better for the most part, but I can't get rid of the cough and stuffy nose, and I think Hubby is getting sick too. So it's off to bed! Hope everyone is doing well in your neck of the woods.

Gratitude.

I'm tired.

I have been all day. In fact, I don't remember the last time I wasn't tired. I work, and I come home to stressful situations, and I don't really sleep at night for more than a couple hours at a time. I stress about:

• the baby being healthy
• gaining too much weight
• Hubby's job situation
• living with my parents
• whatever drama is going on at the moment with various people in my life

And here's the thing... these are all completely valid things to stress about, I guess. I want to stay healthy, it's important that Hubby gets a job, and as much as we love my parents, we don't want to live with them forever. and interpersonal drama is never fun. High school and college are over, people.

However, it's all been piling up, and it all really came to a head today for me mentally. Work sucked. I woke up feeling crappy and flu-y, had to go to work early, and then got shafted by a big party that sat in my section forever, and then i gave somebody the wrong change and had to pay for it out of my tips, so I basically made 2/3 of what I should have. So of course, I had a crappy attitude from the beginning, and it just got worse.

I finally drove home, listening to angry music all the way, sat down and read for a little while, and felt sorry for myself. And then I felt a little mental nudge. A memory popped into my head of one of my tables yesterday.

A young man and woman came in, neither of them over thirty. Both were dressed very nicely; the man was handsome, and the woman was absolutely beautiful. Not physically, but...

She was obviously very ill, or was recovering from illness. Her skin was wan, her face tired, and she was attached to an oxygen pump, the kind you usually see carted around by 75 year old people with holes in their throats. But she had the most beautiful, warm smile of anyone I had ever met.Although it was obvious that she wasn't very strong, and was very tired, her and her companion lingered over lunch, having glasses of wine, savoring their appetizers, ordering expensive meals, and enjoying each other's company. They laughed together; he touched her hand tenderly and she leaned over to stroke his face; they tried each other's meals. She was generous and kind even though she was obviously physically struggling.

I think that dealing with these people,and having the memory pop into my head today, was God's way of nudging me into the realization that yes, things are stressful and crappy right now on a lot of fronts, and it's ok to realize that and be frustrated and stressed and tired-- but things could be so much worse. Michael and I are healthy. He has a few job opportunities that look like they might pan out. We have a place to live and people that love us. My pregnancy has been, in the words of my doctor, "remarkably healthy and low-risk". The attitude is really unneccecary and counter-productive.

We are blessed.

That's not to say that I won't spend the next couple of days trying to stay healthy, both mentally and physically. I don't have to work Thursday or Friday, so I fully intend on sleeping in, reading lots, and just relaxing and making a concerted effort to avoid anything that stresses me out. On that note, Friday should be interesting. Lots of really amusing family dynamics coming in to play, on top of which, Hubby and I have to make dinner for who knows how many people. But if nothing else, I will sit back, observe, and let the chaos happen around me. Eye of the storm.

On a side note, Dad's got a cold-fluish type thingy, so I'm staying away from him, but I think I might have a touch of it, so resting for the next couple days is not a bad thing at all. I keep forgetting I can't push as hard as I usually do. There's a little person floating around my insidey-parts that just does not care whether the laundry gets put away, or if I work an extra shift to pick up some more cash. He just isn't happy when Mommy isn't happy.

Weekend Update

I'm really too tired to even think about being funny right now. The Bean is having a growth spurt, I think, and for the last few days has been sucking all of the energy out of me. Pair that with the fact that in the last week, we went from 85 degree weather to 55 degree weather-- literally, it happened in a time span of two days-- and I had a serious case of the fall blahs.

However, lots of positive stuff has been happening. We went in for my 24-week checkup on Wednesday, and everything is right on track. Good weight gain, good measurements, no complications so far, knock on wood. So that day we also went and did our baby registries for the shower, which my mother is very generously throwing for us/ me/ Charlie Bean on the 28th of October.

(Dude. that's totally this month. Thanksgiving is next month. Christmas is the month after that. And then, a month after that, Charlie will be born. Insane.)

Speaking of registries, that was one of the most overwhelming experiences of my life. Registering for the wedding was fun; that was all just gadgets and toys and upgrades and stuff that we didn't really need, but was fun to have. Registering for a baby... well, one, it makes it even more real. But also, you realize how much stuff this little person needs.

"Well, we definitely want to register for a breast pump."
"But then we need accessories for the pump."
"And bottles! ...Ohmygosh there are literally seventeen different brands of bottles."
"and we need more than one size of nipple....hehheh, nipple." (That was me... I have the mind of a 12 year old boy lately).

Ten minutes later:

"Where the heck are the diaper pails?!?"
"uh, do we need a high chair?"
"DIAPERS! Must. get. LOTS. of. diapers."

Notice how I totally thought about the diaper pail before the diapers? Yeah. Pregnancy brain.



On a completely unrelated note, there is only one thing that is EVER appropriate to say to a pregnant woman when you are talking to her about the physical manifestations of her pregnancy: "you look great/ beautiful/ wonderful/ SODAMNGOOD!"

Not:

• "Oh, you're hardly showing at all!" I'm 6 months pregnant. Don't freak me out about my baby not growing, please.
• "Oh, you're really big for six months!" Oh, you're really chubby for someone eating lasagna. Shut up. ( I had guests say both of the above things to me tonight... two consecutive tables that I was serving. Do I make comments on your food choices or your obnoxious tipping habits? Well...not to your face. And DON'T TOUCH MY BELLY!)
• "Are you sure you should be eating that?" That's between me, my doctor, and the parasite in my abdomen who is telling me that I must ABSOLUTELY have chocolate chips and garlic bread, along with a nice strip steak.
• "When I was pregnant, I never got sick!" Aren't you the lucky duck. Excuse me, I have to go impersonate Linda Blair.

OK, so maybe I'm a little... assertive.... tonight. Blame it on the hormones. (Every time I say "blame it on the...." now, my brain goes, "Blame it on the vodka, blame it on the henny, blame it on the blue tap got you feeling dizzy, blame it on the ah-ah-ah-alcohol, blame it on the ah-ah ah-ah ah-al-co-hol..." Damn you, Jamie Foxx!)

Of course, all of this (except the part about Jamie Foxx) was said much better by the wonderfully hilarious Assertagirl over at Aiming Low. If you haven't checked out Aiming Low, you need to. It's a fantastic group of hysterical (in more ways than one) female bloggers. It is my crack.