Friday, September 30, 2011

Now THAT is my daughter

The greatest surprise of my entire life was the moment after I birthed my first child and found out she was a girl. Nothing else will ever compare. It has been fun this time around to talk to my little man and watch his little boy room come together, but man, there was nothing like hearing the doctor say that we had a daughter and realizing that nothing would ever be the same. Subconsciously I knew that we were standing at a crossroads and a penis would mean walking one way and a vagina would mean walking the other- but taking that first step was unbelievable. In the days after her birth, I remember the very odd feeling of trepidation for being the Mom of a girl. I felt fear that Purslane would somehow become an incredibly girly girl and demand pink fluffy clouds and Barbies. I thought about cheerleading tryouts and Dora underwear and body image issues. I made mental notes to watch more TLC and have my friend Julia on speed dial for questions about makeup application. It took me a while after she was born to accept that we indeed were going to raise a girl. I always imagined I would have boys.

Obviously I have come to terms with the fact that she is going to be whomever she is going to be and I have even taken a liking to her pink Jeep toy (thank you auntie Beth). She is an incredibly active and curious child and does not in fact seem to have an innate desire to sit in a rocking chair and cross-stich, like I initially feared. I don't think that Grant and I are going to be the kind of parents that force certain gender specific toys on our children, and I have no doubt that she will let us know her preferences. It isn't up to me, really.

Last night she woke up at 5AM and clung to me like a spider monkey when I tried to put her back in her crib after rocking for a few minutes. I brought her into bed with us for the last few hours of sleep, which isn't the norm for us, but my lack of a lap makes rocking impossible and she just needed some extra love. She laid between us for almost 15 minutes and I thought she had fallen back asleep. Then a little hand came up to the side of my face and her sweet baby breath let me know she was about an inch from my face looking at me. In a very clear and precise voice, my daughter said:

"I. like. trucks."

This was her first noun/verb set of words. What a cool kid. And she might change her mind and tomorrow only like baby dolls and high heels, but last night she was all about trucks. That's my girl.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Any minute now... my ship is comin' in

I am a walking cliche. I am officially 38 weeks pregnant and willing to try anything to make this pregnancy end in my healthy and beautiful baby boy. I want to hold him, nurse him, listen to music with him, kiss his belly, and watch his Daddy and big sister introduce him to the world. I want to see if the ultrasound picture was accurate and he has Pursy's nose. I want to see this little heel that has been trying to lead the way out of my belly on the left side, right under my rib cage.

I know all the wives tales about inducing labor and am trying them all. Stop giving me knowing looks when I say that because yes, I do mean everything. Just about the only thing I haven't tried is castor oil, because if that doesn't work all I end up with is needing to run to the bathroom even faster then I already do. My co-workers have stopped trying to talk me out of doing things I physically shouldn't be doing and have joined me in my desire to go into labor. I have returned to lifting patients that I shouldn't be lifting, squatting to pull on compression stockings and pushing wheelchairs from the 4th floor to the 1st floor exit. I was "running" to a Code Blue last night and the doctor running beside me asked me to slow down. I reminded her that she at one point had a OB residency and maybe she needed a refresher course. No one seems to think I am as funny as I do. Every time my mother in law calls now, I answer the phone with some random birth-at-home scenario and congratulate her on her new grandson. She never laughs.

I have also started having labor and delivery dreams at night, so wake up in the morning feeling like I have already birthed quite a few babies and am surprised that I am still indeed pregnant. Quite a downer way to start the day... being bummed that it was only a dream.

On a less whiney note, in my rational moments I really don't feel sorry for myself and on the contrary am so thankful that my body is willing and able to carry babes to full term. I am taking advantage of my appetite and even though the pork BBQ sliders I ate earlier tonight are giving me wicked heartburn, they were crazy good. My greatest fear right now is going through labor again- the way it catches you off guard and starts you down a rabbit hole in which you cannot see the way or the bottom. The pain I know is coming makes me curl up if I let myself think about it too long. All I know for sure is the fantastic ending-and it is worth everything. Sweet baby boy- your Mama is a crazy person but I love you and cannot wait to meet you.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Technology brings New Worries

Five years ago all I would have woken up this morning thinking about was the fantastic night I had. I would have been thinking about how great it is that Grant and I still enjoy going out on dates (good dates- not lame dinner and movie nights where we talk about whether or not cloth diapering is still working for us). I would have looked at the strapless black and gray number I wore and given myself a mental high five for rocking one of my favorite gifts of pregnancy. I would have hooked up Rhapsody and found a Marah album to listen to while making breakfast. And I would be blogging about how confident I felt dancing while 9 months pregnant because the music was calling to me.

Instead, I am hoping the newest YouTube sensation is not my pregnant self dancing like a fool obviously more consumed with hoping no bits pop out of my dress then my sexy moves.

There were quite a few IPhones with their sinister little screens lit up during the show last night, and all of my faith in humanity is riding on the fact that admiring my courage to get out there and dance while terrifyingly pregnant would make you think twice before publicly sharing a video or photo. Please?...

I suppose it is what it is. I had a fantastic time with my husband and friends. The food was yummy, the music was rockin', and I met one of my favorite blog writers. She is more rad then even her blog lets on, and I actually giggled all the way home because she was mostly to blame for my antics on the dance floor. It was a good night. And I'm sure I looked just as sexy and carefree as I imagined I did...

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Purslane and Knox Photos

Our dear friend Andrew and his fiance Rachel came over a few weekends ago to capture the last hurrah of pregnancy and life with only one babe. He is crazy talented and just snapped photos of us hangin' on the couch. Enjoy. I can't stop looking at them...





Saturday, September 17, 2011

Almost as good as a glass of Basil Hayden, neat.

I really like bourbon. Not in the fancy "oh I only drink brown liquors but thank you for the offer of wine" kind of way, but the down and dirty "if the only clean cup is one of Pursy's plastic sippy cups I will take my finger of bourbon in that" kind of way. I got into it with Grant two years ago and we were pleased to discover that our palates for bourbon were very similar. He decided (for whatever reason Grant ever decides things) that the only way to drink bourbon is neat (straight up- no ice) so we never even tried to find out what other bourbon drinkers find pleasing about the slow diluting process of their drink "on the rocks".

My hands down favorite bourbon is Basil Hayden. And my hands down best wife moment was when I met Grant at the door after he had passed his comps in lingerie and a brand new bottle of BH. I like this about us- we make a concerted effort to get into things together so we can enjoy them together. Like the Pittsburgh Pirates or the latest recipes from Food and Wine.

As most of my blog posts go, this one is actually not about bourbon. Rather, it is my musings on discovering the deepest desire of my heart. This morning, Grant woke up at 0730 and took Purslane out to breakfast. He is meeting a friend Mark with his little man Cole and the four of them are presently at the buffet at the local breakfast place. The point of this delicious gift to me was SLEEP. The commodity I have have been craving for the past 3 weeks and never can consume enough of. Whether or not a day was successful at the end depended entirely on whether or not I got a nap. I am 9 months pregnant and just want to sleep through the last 4 weeks. Hook me up to an IV with TPN running through it and I will lie there and gestate as long as this little man wants to stay in- just don't wake me up.

So why am I writing a blog post at 0830 when I am supposed to be sleeping? Because the second I heard the car leave the driveway, I did the following things (almost in an altered state of consciousness- it was just automatic and thus I believe was my body carrying out my heart's deepest and purest desires):
1. Went to the bathroom. Alone. With no requests to read a book or pound out Old McDonald on a xylophone.
2. Made an iced cafe au lait. Put it on a plate next to a peach muffin from my favorite bakery and added a bowl of full-fat French Vanilla yogurt.
3. Fed dog and let him out to pee. (this is just necessary- probably does not reflect anything about me or how I presently feel about the dog)
4. Crawled back into bed with plate of food and drink and grabbed computer and book.

When I was about 11 or 12, I have a very distinct memory of this CD my Dad had- I don't remember the band or the album title but there were four women on the cover with big hair. We were a super conservative family growing up and I was fascinated by the fact that this wasn't a Christian band or classical music and we were allowed to listen to it openly, so played it on repeat. The first lyric of the first song was "Show me a woman who left her man and I'll show you a man with a drink in his hand". This is how I feel this morning.

Show me a husband who let his pregnant wife have a morning all to herself with no babe or expectations to get anything done, and I'll show you a woman who wanted food, private bathroom time and luxurious quiet to write out her thoughts. To bring it all to a close, it is almost as good as an evening on the couch with a glass of bourbon and a record on the turntable.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Let's Have a Ball and a Biscuit, Sugar....

I love the White Stripes. Partly because anytime their music is blaring out of my speakers the windows automatically go down and I start singin' along. Partly because they always make me think of my brother Daniel and make me wish we had thought of the brother/sister music duo first before it got cool. (if Peter or Nick are reading this- I am well aware that Meg and Jack are not ACTUALLY brother and sister, so don't send me any snarky FB posts telling me you know more about music then I do)

This blog post is all about a 20 second video I shot of Pursy yesterday morning when the Pampers commercial came on TV. She LOVES this commercial and I am so happy I finally caught her transfixed watching it. It was like the world stopped and the only thing that mattered was the babies. I also love the special effects of the fan blowing her hair around in a lovely whimsical manner.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Another Photo Journal..

I feel like pictures are better at describing our activities nowadays then words. How can I really describe how fascinated Pursy is with all things baby (including sweet babe Monroe and the Pampers commercial) or what it looks like to be chasing an almost 17 month old through a PSU/Alabama tailgate? My Mom came this weekend and we crammed as much activity as possible into 4 days of what was supposed to be my last chance to sleep 18 hours/day and have my feet up the other 6.

The face of an addict... she had been up for maybe 17 seconds and already looking to score
 I woke up from a nap to find this floor picnic going on in the kitchen...
 Fresh whipping cream licked directly from the beater...
 She loved looking at pictures/videos of herself on Gramma's camera...
 Baby Monroe.. sleeping peacefully so obviously pre-Pursy trying to share her BBQ with him.
 Miles and Pursy eating most of my kettle corn... lucky for these babes I love them
 Pursy fascinated with sleeping Monroe...
 Beauty on the left is "Auntie Becki" and beauty on the right is "Auntie Bec"... we make it work
 I am literally chasing after Pursy who is running down the middle of the tailgate road. Obviously my fear of her getting run over by a car was taking a back seat to catching her independence on camera. Good parenting...
 Those southern boys are so cheeky...
 Pursy after a "bap" by Gramma...
 Two adults vs. cowboy boots on a 17 month old...

 She looked immediately like a little girl in this dress and boots... Grant and I weren't prepared yet. Not going to lie, there was a hormonal reaction that involved tears (from me- Grant was a champ)

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Unavoidable?

What could I have done differently so this morning didn't go down like it did? I really try to stay away from even culturally acceptable derogatory terms like "redneck" or "white trash" because I wouldn't be that pleased with someone using the term  "cardiac nurse" or "31 year old mom" to describe something they had done that they were embarrassed about doing. So instead of labeling, I will just describe what my morning looked like and you can ascribe whatever descriptor you want. Just don't say it is inevitable because I will go sit in my room and cry.

I worked last evening so got home around 2330 and wasn't asleep until after midnight. This automatically means that Grant gets up with Pursy in the morning because my 8 1/2 month pregnant body can't process basic functions on only 7 hours of sleep. So he got up this morning and performed his spously/fatherly duties of feeding, dressing and watching SportsCenter with babe while I slept another hour. They woke me up at 830- precisely 27 seconds before Grant was hoping to walk out the door to work. It was pouring down rain, so I was giving him a lift. He really was being considerate by letting me sleep as long as possible, but this left me with no time to shower, figure out what to drape my enormous preggo self in or eat breakfast. Thus, by the time I squeezed myself behind the wheel of the car- I was (in our words about Pursy) a grumpster monkey.

Once we dropped him off, my blood sugar was already in the toilet. I was nauseated, sweaty and wondering if those new breakfast sandwiches at Wendy's were better in person then they looked on the commercials. I decided that even on the off chance that the annoying employee in the commercials had his home base in State College, PA he wouldn't stand a chance of not getting punched in the smug little face- so I opted for the grocery store to choose breakfast from the bakery case. If I drove 1/2 mile further, I would be at Wegmans where whole wheat organic options were bountiful. However, I know lots of people who could possibly also be at Wegmans at that hour on a Wednesday morning and no deodorant had me already smelling like a junior high boy after gym. I pulled into the closer grocery store where my options for breakfast were frosting or no frosting on my doughnut.

Once inside the store and halfway through my chocolate cake doughnut (I am so sorry Grant, I know I promised not to do this) my head cleared and I took a look at myself. I was in a pajama tank top, khaki pants, a non-maternity zip up hoodie and Reefs. I was a horrifying assortment of too big and too small, covered in crumbs and not quite sure what my next move should be. My saving grace was that Grant had dressed Purslane that morning and she looked like a cute miniature hipster. She brought my overall aura up a few notches.

So what could I have done? Sacrificed sleep for showering? Had a pantry stocked with nutritious on the go snacks I could have grabbed on my way out the door? Told Grant he would be 8 seconds late for work and put on a real shirt? Yes. So insert whatever word you like here, this morning was a redneck morning. But at least I chose the doughnut without frosting.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Everything takes a little longer when a 16 month old is "helping"...

I timed it. Yesterday making the bed took 14 minutes. This is why:
Pursy wanted the pillows a certain way

 Really too happy to do chores like make a bed...
 And there is always yoga to be done...
 Pursy being made into the bed because she wouldn't move...
She had to sit on her chair while I finished the bed...


Second cleaning event of the day- the bathroom. Dada let her clean the floor.

 I wonder how long the fascination with cleaning will last. Unfortunately probably not long enough to be truly useful or time efficient.