37 Weeks

Did you know that the average woman is pregnant for l0 months?

40 weeks in a pregnancy / 4 weeks in a month = 10 months

That is not entirely accurate though. By the time the egg meets the sperm and all the cellular multiplying happens, the woman is considered 2 weeks pregnant. By the time a positive pregnancy test occurs, she is 4 weeks along. Now I'm no math whiz, but by my calculations the average woman is pregnant for a really long time. The majority of a year. Or half of 2 years, depending on when you get pregnant. It's a long time to host another body inside of your own.

With that said, this pregnancy sure has flown by. Today marks the full term point of this pregnancy. More confusing pregnancy trivia: 37 weeks is considered full term, however there are still 3 weeks until my due date and up to 5 more weeks of being safely pregnant for a grand total of 42 weeks gestation. All in all, I could be pregnant for a year and a half. Or something like that. I'm not great with math. I think having a toddler to chase after and a move to plan has preoccupied my time with not really thinking about being pregnant. And here I am, 9 months along, at the end, with mere glimpses of memories of the morning we found out I was pregnant. I vaguely remember the first doctor's appointment and the sound of her heartbeat for the first time. Soon enough, the only kicks I will be feeling will be from her tiny little legs while I nurse her in the middle of the night. Penelope is fully cooked and this pregnancy is almost over, all 154 weeks of it. Or something like that. 


Stats:


Weight gain: 40 lbs as of my 36 week appointment last week. I don't know why I'm telling you since a few weeks ago I was feeling all depressed about it. I guess I'm banking on the hope that there's no way I'll gain 10 lbs in 3 weeks. Please dear God, don't let me gain 10 lbs in 3 weeks. 
Stretch marks: Yes. I can't really tell if I have any new ones from the original tiger scratch I found a few weeks ago, although the ones I have are looking beefier. Sigh. 
Movement: Yes.
Cravings: Ice and carbonation. I had a Coke this weekend and it was divine.
Sleep: What's that?
Best moment this week: I feel like I have gained some maturity about being in late pregnancy this past week. I really want to complain and cry and feel sorry for myself for being so uncomfortable and in so much pain all the time, but I'm being a real trooper and not allowing myself to go there. Also, I think I have come to terms with weight gain and stretch marks. Instead of really fretting over it like I have been, I kind of don't care anymore. Not in a bad way, just in an adult, this-is-the-way-it-goes kind of way.
Gender: Girl.
Labor signs: A few. Also, how personal do we all want to get from here on out? Do you want to know about my mucous plug? Is anyone interested in my cervical dilation? Is all that too weird and personal for anyone??? I need to decide how I feel about this before things get all slimy and birthy up in here.
What I miss: Sleep and a home of our own to nest in.
What I'm looking forward to: Moving in with my brother and sister in law this week. And I'm aware that this answer totally contradicts my previous statement. I can't really explain it. 
Weekly wisdom: A lot of personal stuff has challenged me/us this past week and I never tire of being reminded of God's grace, mercy, and provision in our lives. He astounds me with His love and I want more and more to be with Him forever and forever.
Milestones: Full term!

A photo:

Nesting

With only 3 weeks left until Penelope arrives, I have been nesting up a storm. I have been scrubbing sinks and organizing drawers, washing tiny clothes and boiling breast pump parts, sewing burp cloths and crocheting blankets. There are so many things to do and get ready for her arrival, I have been working like a mad woman trying to accomplish everything in time. This would normally be considered productive, but we are moving in with my brother and sister in law in a week so all of my organizational efforts are pretty much a big waste of time. The force of nature that is nesting before a newborn comes home is a strong one though, and I am powerless against it.

My biggest problem with nesting up a storm (other than not having a permanent home to nest in) is that I start too many projects at once. Currently, I have booties to finish crocheting, a blanket to complete, burp cloths to applique and sew, gowns to personalize, and hats to make. Not to mention I've started on our living room revamp project and still have 4 pillows to cover. Sigh. I have high hopes to finish it all and pack our house up in the 6 days we have left here. I nest big, folks. Big and ridiculous nester, right here. Oh, and I also fully intend to maintain the blog, have a yard sale next weekend, attend birthday parties, and a baby shower. All while not going into labor. If you don't set goals, things won't get done, know what I mean? But mostly, I'm just a big, ridiculous nester. Pray for me. And my poor husband who has just about had it with the multiple projects scattered about our house.

Stupid Jerk Jeans

Have you ever had a pair of jeans that were perfect? They fit just right, made your legs look long and your butt look small. The pair that are perfect with every outfit and make you feel like hot stuff when you wear them. The ones that are so comfortable, they feel like pajamas. But not to be mistaken for pajama jeans. Those are just weird.

I have jeans like that. A few pairs actually. The tragedy is that they do not fit this big belly anymore (or this big butt, thighs, or cankles), and haven't for months. So I got these. And for the majority of this pregnancy, they have been great. They fit like maternity clothes but look like regular clothes. Win win. Except for one tiny detail....I outgrew them. Not completely, but they are tight everywhere. Everywhere. And instead of feeling great in them, I feel fat, uncomfortable, and self-conscious. But that's not the worst part. You wanna know the worst part? My jeans, the ones that are supposed to grow with me, are taunting me. From the inside out, these stupid jerk jeans are reminding me of what I'm not. These jeans are a big, stupid jerk. See for yourself:

I'm sure the "Always Skinny" thing was great as some boardroom concept. "Hey, let's make all the pregnant women feel skinny when they are twice their normal size by stitching this stupid jerk clever tag in their pants so every time they take the 300 pee breaks a day, heaving their enormous bodies into random bathrooms across America, they can be reminded of what they once were and feel totally stylish."

Not cool, maternity jeans from a big name chain, not cool. Not only am I wearing jeans with an elastic waist band at 29, every time I struggle to wiggle them past my hips I see that stupid tag and it makes me angry. Always skinny I am not. Always wanting to wear jeans that make me feel cool? Yes. Having my clothes remind me that I am enormous and not living up to the standard they have set for me? Not so much. Not cool at all, jeans. Not cool at all.

Bad Mood

Today started with me waking at 6 am with a serious urge to pee. I know better than to get up because once I do, I'm awake. My urge to go was serious though so there was no ignoring it. I got up and ran to the bathroom with my eyes mostly closed in efforts to not fully wake up and I ran back to the warm spot in bed. Too late. I was awake. And tired. I laid there next to JD for 2 hours wishing, praying, and begging to go back to sleep. Nada. JD got up at 8 and brought Beatrice into bed for cartoons while we got ready for a bazillion errands. She head-butted me in the face and gave me a busted lip, but not the bloody kind where people feel sorry for you. The blood blister kind that no one can see, but still hurts. The morning continued with the realization that my face had gained 20 lbs overnight. Seriously, last night my face was normal sized and this morning it looked like I was attacked by bees in my sleep. Bees and cake since I'm pretty sure bee stings don't give you multiple chins.

With the knowledge that I am officially enormous in the face, a busted lip no one could see, and total exhaustion from half a night's sleep, I was in a mood. A bad one. It wasn't until I almost amputated JD's arm in the car door that I started laughing. He was giving Beatrice her sippy cup through the open door with his arm coming from above the window. It was weird, I can't really explain it but his arm looked like it was floating so I closed the door on the muscly part I couldn't see. I didn't laugh sadistically or anything, but out of complete surrender to a day that was destined to be terrible at 9 am. JD wasn't too happy that I was laughing, his arm was still hurting and all, but he was relieved that I was over my mood. Bad moods are contagious in this house. One person in mood is bearable, but multiple people? We implode. Not really, but we do hurt each other's feelings and make life pretty miserable. So I decided to change my mood. Did you know you can do that? You totally can. It's pretty awesome. 

I decided to be in a good mood. And you know what? The day got better. We accomplished all of our errands and chores, had a great morning with Beatrice, and really enjoyed our time together on JD's day off. What could have been a day full of irritability has been really nice and peaceful. I'm still tired, my lip hurts, and my face is fatter than ever, but I didn't succumb to a crappy mood. Simply because I didn't want to. Pretty cool, huh?

36 Weeks

Ugh. What a difference a week makes. I. Am. Miserable. My belly feels like it can't get any bigger. My body feels like it can't get any more uncomfortable. I feel like I can't go on for another 4 weeks. But alas, my belly will get bigger, my body more uncomfortable, and I will likely make it another 4 weeks. Sigh. Sob. Whine. I audibly whimper when I move these days. This pregnancy hurts. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. Except I'm not. There's still 4 more weeks. Sigh. Sob. Whine. Whimper. Moan. Sigh.


Stats


Weight gain: Ugh.
Stretch marks: Ugh.
Movement: Ugh.
Cravings: Ice. Ugh.
Sleep: Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Double ugh.
Best moment this week: Finding the will to carry on.
Gender: Girl.
Labor signs: Ugh.
What I miss: Not feeling so ugh all the time.
What I'm looking forward to: Not feeling so ugh all the time.
Weekly wisdom: Ugh. Double ugh.
Milestones: I have become a whiny whinerson who whines. Ugh.

Ugh.

Busted

This is a text message exchange that occurred last night:

Friend: Nice. How is packing going? Hope you aren't too stressed.
Me: It's going slow...I do it while Beatrice naps. I end up packing a box or 2, then lay on the couch :)
Don't tell JD......
Friend: Lol, it's amazing you get one or two done! I hate packing!
Me: He has no idea that it only takes about 10 mins to pack a box.....he thinks I'm working so hard
Friend: Lol! I would totally not offer up that information. I bet he's so proud of his wife! It is just so not right to work through an entire nap!!
Me: I just got busted! He looked at my phone. That's what I get for trying to be stealthy

The moral of the story is don't text your friend something that you don't want your husband to know when you are sitting next to him.

Needless to say, packing is coming along slowly. We move in with my brother in 2 weeks so the urgency to really take packing seriously has not quite hit me yet. 2 weeks seems like forever, like all of my little breaks aren't really affecting the amount of work not being accomplished. But I realized today that I really need to step it up. For every closet that gets emptied, 5 more are left untouched. Every china cabinet packed away leaves the entire kitchen and its contents unpacked. The progress I'm making is quickly being overshadowed by the work that remains. Sigh. 


Time is ticking away and now, 2 weeks doesn't seem to be long enough to accomplish everything. So I have been packing more than 2 boxes before I take a break on the couch. Today I packed 3. JD has been helping too. Tomorrow we have big plans to clear out some major boxes and store some furniture. We shall see how much gets accomplished before I take a break.

And just so you know, I don't routinely do things behind JD's back. Unless it has to do with syrup or packing, I am a pillar of truth and transparency. Just so you know. 

My Loins Trembleth

Friends are having babies around me left and right. For the most part, it makes me really excited to have my own squishy newborn to hold in a month. But with each birth story I hear, I become more and more terrified. You see, the thing with babies is they have to come out. Down there. And as much as I know that childbirth is necessary to bring forth the baby, it really hurts. Bad. Really, really bad. And I am starting to remember just how much pain is involved in birthing a human. My loins are trembling at the thought of life ripping through them yet again in less than 30 days. Mommy, hold me.


I had Beatrice med-free. It was the most prolific experience of my life to feel as though my body was crushing itself from within, drawing strength from God Almighty alone, and convincing myself that I would not die from the pain for the greater part of 2 days. It hurt. It felt impossible to accomplish without my faith in God. It left me trembling, but I did it. And looking back, I love my birth story. I love how I experienced raw pain and felt my body adjust and contort to allow for childbirth. Despite the intense pain, I plan to have all of my babies the same way. It is an experience I don't want to miss out on for any of my children. I want to experience every moment of my babies' precious births. Pain and all.

But.

It still scares the crap out of me. Hearing all of my friends recall their recent contractions and excruciating rings of fire as their babies crowned has me reliving Beatrice's birth all over again. I am dreading laboring. I am dreading feeling like I'm dying for days. Days, people! I definitely feel more prepared this time since I have been through it before, but it doesn't take the dread away from actually having to go through it again.

When I was a kid, I asked my mom why women had more than 1 baby if childbirth was so awful. She said that by the time you were ready for another child, you forgot how terrible the pain was when you had your first. I guess she was right because when JD and I were talking about having another baby last year, the first thing he asked me was if I was ready to go through all of that pain again. "What pain?" I said. "It wasn't that bad, honey." Apparently I forgot. Funny how he remembered and he didn't experience a single contraction... I guess that's how God intended it though. If women never forgot how badly their loins hurt with each baby's birth, no one would be up for round 2. Or 3, or 4. We'd all be a bunch of only children.

I keep drilling JD on our birth plan. "Do you remember how to be supportive, dear?" "Do you remember how to massage my back and dim the lights and reassure me that I'm not gonna die?" "Did you remember to line up Michael Bolton and all of the horses and the fire and chest hair?" Wouldn't having Michael Bolton serenade epic love ballads in the delivery room create the perfect ambiance? I think so. He assures me that he has remembered it all and that he is ready for Penelope's delivery, even if I'm not. I'm working on it though. I pray every night in great detail for the kind of birth experience that I want. I have dusted off some of the reading materials and Bible verses that gave me strength the first time around. I'm getting to a place of almost being prepared for the pain that is med-free childbirth. My loins however? Not so much.

Potty Training

As you can see from the photo above, things aren't going exactly as I planned.

I have to be honest, potty training is not a mommy milestone I'm looking forward to accomplishing. I would like to just skip it altogether and let someone else take credit for toilet training my daughter. In my mind, it seems like the hardest parenting trial ever. Bigger than teaching her to say no to drugs and boys with fast cars. Potty training is my Everest and I'm scared. Really stinkin' scared.

Beatrice has been showing signs of readiness since 18 months. My goal was to start trying after our vacation, but then we got word about our move and I put it off. I moved my goal to June 1st. She was interested in the potty, loved watching me go, and really loved sitting on her own little potty. I thought she was ready. I thought I was ready. So, we started very casually potty training. She did great for a few days, then decided that potty training wasn't for her and refused to do much more than place a few bath toys inside the potty. I couldn't have agreed with her more so I didn't press the issue. Another goal was made to begin on July 1st, but here we are on July 19th with no potty training to speak of. Sigh.


I'm not sure why potty training scares me so much. Maybe because there is a lot at stake. Like not succeeding. Plus, I hate making her do stuff that she doesn't want to do. Right now, she doesn't want to sit on the potty, she wants to put it on her head. Surely that's a sign for some big milestone, right? For now, we have another goal set for August 1st. I really want her potty trained by the time Penelope gets here and despite losing interest for a bit, she goes every time I set her on the potty. She's ready. I think. I hope. I don't know. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.

35/35

There are so many milestones in pregnancy. In 1st tri, you're waiting to hear the heartbeat for the first time. In 2nd tri, you can't wait to see that baby and find out the sex on the big ultrasound. There are the first kicks and movements to be documented. The first stranger comments about how big your belly is. The first baby shower. All big milestones leading the way for the final countdown. In 3rd tri, the 35 week mark is significant because there are only 35 days left until the due date. 35 weeks completed with only 35 days to go until baby time. Today, I am there.

With so few days left in this pregnancy, I am kinda sad it's almost over. I like being pregnant. I have complained about the discomforts that accompany carrying a baby, but I really do like the entire experience. I like my big belly. I like feeling her move all day and night. I like the excitement of wondering who this person growing inside of me is. I'm going to miss it when she's on the outside.

Stats


Weight gain: It's bad, y'all. I have pretty much given up on having any sort of self-control. I eat a lot of ice and drink tons of water, but in between all of that is a decent amount of cake and bread going into my belly and spreading to all different wobbly parts of my body. This part of pregnancy, the weight gain part? I'm ready for it to be over.
Stretch marks: Yes, no new ones since last week though. Thank the Lord Almighty.
Movements: Yep, although there seem to be less kicks and more big rolls lately. Methinks she is running out of room in there.
Cravings: Ice and dessert. I give in to each quite frequently.
Sleep: Getting worse. I'm up a lot. I need to pee a lot. My hips ache a lot.
Best moment this week: Hitting a very important milestone. 35/35 baby.
Gender: Girl.
Labor signs: None this week.
What I miss: Feeling like I had a little more time left to be pregnant with my sweet #2.
What I'm looking forward to: Getting our little space ready for our girls at my brother and sister in law's house. We brought over all of the baby gear today. I can't wait to make their spare bedrooms and my brother's man room "home" for the next 2 months.
Weekly wisdom: Despite all of the discomforts, pregnancy is such a special season that is over before you know it.
Milestones: 35 days left! Or less. 


A photo.

The Right Woman

I have a thing for Michael Bolton. The singer. The one with the long, flowing locks and the chest hair. I like his music. I like his voice. I like him. A lot. There is something about head to toe denim, fire, and horses that makes me weak in the knees. Can I get an amen? Oh, and kissing in rocky terrain, that is totally my thing. You're welcome in advance for this:


I don't keep up with celebrity news, but when I saw this, I had to catch my breath a little.

I'm coming, Michael! I'll be there in October. Wait for me!!!!!!!

Salvaging

One of the most difficult things about our big move to California is finding a place. We lost the fabulous place we found due to the job delay, so we're back to searching online. The thing about California rentals is they're small, or smaller than what we have now. We have debated selling our furniture and downsizing everything, but that doesn't seem like the most financially savvy plan. So we're working with what we have. We hate our couch. It has smooshed pillows with busy fabric and we're over it. But it's all we have so I am determined to give it new life.

Here's what our furniture looks like now:

I really like the shape of our furniture. It's not traditional or contemporary. It's kind of tailored, but not formal. It's definitely not stuffy. It has potential. What I don't like about it is how brown it is. Everything is brown. The cushions are a camel microsuede (great for kids) and the horrible pillows are multiple shades of brown paisley/stripes. It's as if brown puked in my living room. I am so over the brown. I want to brighten it up.

So I found some inspiration. If I could redecorate anyway I wanted, this would be my new living room:

Photo source unknown. I found it on Pinterest via Katie, but it is not linked to the original source. Apologies. 

Our furniture has very similar lines to the couch on the right. I love the lightness of the room and how the accents are the only sources of color. Me likey, me likey a lot.

Here's another gorgeous living room that I am using for inspiration:

Photo source: My Design Dump via me on Pinterest.


My furniture looks nothing like this, but I wish that it did. Again, I like the brightness of the room, even with dark walls everything looks fresh and light. The furniture is not the focal point, the accessories are. That is my goal.

Since I can't redecorate completely, I have to work with what we've got.  There's the camel couch and our blue and camel area rug (look closely in the photo of our living room). If I recover the pillows in a light fabric, your eye will be drawn to the lighter pillows and away from the darker couch. At least that's how it works in my head. I found more inspiration in the form of thick ivory stripes:

Photo source:  House To Home via me on Pinterest.


I don't like anything except the couch in this photo, but I am digging the thick stripes that can be paired with almost any color or decor scheme.

I have a fabulous Victorian chair in the attic very similar to this. I am going to have it reupholstered. It will be the final piece of furniture in our new, salvaged living room.

Photo source: Belle Maison via me on Pinterest.


So, my goal is to tone down the camel color couch by recovering new Euro pillows in a lighter fabric to make the room appear brighter. I have been to every fabric store in town and have picked out swatches. I think I have found my fabric for the chair. How fabulous is this?

It's another bold pattern but the Victorian chair has such a small cushion area, there would be very little fabric needed. Plus it reminds me of those darling footstools in the first inspiration photo above. I kinda love everything about it.

I found the thick ivory stripes I was looking for:

It's considerably lighter than our camel couch so it's kind of tripping me up. I feel like I'll love it once it's all together, but I'm not convinced it's really what I want.

I love the pillows in the second inspiration photo. The geometric print is really fun and feels so much more updated and younger than our current paisley. I found this fabric today:

It's another bold print though and it's brown. That's what I'm trying to get away from. Plus, if I reupholster the Victorian chair in the blue tribal print, this may be pattern overload.

What do you think? Do you think if I make some fabric changes, the furniture will get a breath of fresh air and not look so brown? Here's a handy dandy poll for you to vote:

Which fabric should I cover the pillows in?

• Thick ivory stripes
• Brown geometric print
• Neither, get rid of that terrible furniture

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Create a Blog Poll

Do you think I stand a chance at liking what I currently have as much as my inspiration photos? Should I save my money on new fabric and save for furniture that we love? I would love the input.

Bad Day

When I was pregnant with Beatrice, a friend asked me if I would be a helicopter parent like she was. I didn't really know what that meant, but from what I knew about the label, I knew I probably would not be a hovering mother. For the most part, I am really laid back. I do stress about what she eats and I hate leaving her for longer than a few hours, but those are pretty typical new mom things. I think. I like to let her learn and explore at her own pace, only intervening when she's in danger or discipline is warranted. I'm not about redirecting bad behavior, I'm about correcting it so she knows it's unacceptable. 

Today shook my laid back mom approach a little. Beatrice got hurt at the mall play area. She was trampled on my a kid way too big for the toddler area and bloodied her mouth. She squalled, I cried, the big kid got in trouble. It was bad for everyone involved.

Of course, I blame myself for the whole thing. There has never been a time when we've brought her there to play that big kids weren't jumping off of the playhouses, totally oblivious to the little ones. I knew better than to let her play while the kids 3 times her size were being rough and rowdy, but I thought she'd be okay. I thought I could protect her better. I thought I was being too over-protective if I didn't let her play. I thought too much and didn't listen to my instincts and she got hurt. It sucked.

Every night when I lay her down for the night, I pray for Divine protection over her. I do this because my parents always prayed the same for us and because I know just how laid back I am with her, she needs Divine protection. JD freaks when she climbs on the ottoman in our living room. I think it helps her learn agility so I let her do it. JD holds her when we walk out the door and load up in the car. I hold her hand and let her walk beside me. It's natural for me to want her to try things on her own without hovering over her. I think it's vital to growing up and learning how to be a responsible little person, but at what cost? For the record, I am super cautious when we are out in public or are in obvious dangerous situations. She rides in a stroller or is held the entire time we're in crowds. We are extended rear-facers (car seats), she only drinks organic milk (not really a safety issue, but proves that I'm cautious with some things. We don't mess around with synthetic hormones and antibiotics over here). I am serious about her safety everywhere.... but at home it seems. And the play area in the mall....


Today made me want to rethink my parenting approach. It's terrible watching your baby get hurt, especially when it could have been prevented. But it's equally terrible having a 16 year old not know how to order a pizza because their mom does everything for them and never lets them learn on their own. That was me, by the way. In high school, I was the only one of my friends eating Nutrigrain bars while I babysat because I didn't know what to say to get a pizza delivered. There needs to be a middle ground and I need to find it.


The day wasn't a total disaster. After I cleaned up my child's bloody mouth (officially the worst thing I've ever typed. Ever.), we went to Chuck E. Cheese's. After $20 and a bazillion dump truck rides with Bob the Builder later, all was well again in the world.

And mama needed something to calm her nerves so naturally, we got some shaved ice. Coconut and raspberry, an unlikely delicacy. It did the trick.

We also saw a dead hummingbird, but posting that picture would leave this post on a negative note so I won't go there. What kind of parent are you? Do you hover? Are you laid back? Do you let your big kids launch their bodies off of the playhouses in the toddler play area?

Same Same

This is JD.

This is JD's dad.

Same same.

Same same.

Baby.

Daddy.

Same same.

Cool.

Really cool.

Same same.

Big Letdown

When I was a kid, I remember having a pretty sweet Barbie doll collection. I had a Barbie canopy bed, a Barbie car, a Barbie hotdog stand, Barbie furniture, and tons of Barbie clothes and accessories. I remember feeling so blessed with Barbie stuff, that I gave away some of my Barbies to friends who had less. I had a Barbie collection to be envied. Or so I thought.

Today, I thought it would be fun to get some of my old Barbies out for Beatrice to play with. My mom and I dug deep into the boxes containing my childhood and found the collection of all Barbie collections. Except it wasn't as awesome as I remember it to be. It was quite pathetic actually.

Meet Barbie. She's a nurse. And she has a huge orange afro, circa 1964. She belonged to my mom. I remember her blue eyeshadow to be more exotic than it is today. And her orange afro.

This is her Ken. He is a doctor with really skinny legs and short shorts. He also moonlights as a tennis pro and a lifeguard. He looks like a marine.

I did have some new Barbies back in the day too. Peaches and Cream Barbie was my favorite. And Hawaiian Barbie. I named her Claudia because I thought that was the most beautiful name ever. She had cool hair and cooler clothes. But as I dug through the box containing all of the treasures of my youth, I realized my Barbie clothes sucked. They were homemade, but not cool homemade, makeshift homemade. As in I used old socks to make skirts and dresses. Old socks.

At least I fringed the hem.

In addition to the sock dresses, I also made clothes from scraps of lace and fabric that my mom had in her sewing kit. I omitted sewing altogether and instead just cut holes for arms and heads. I wonder if my lesser fortunate friends appreciated my handiwork and ingenuity...

I did find some authentic Barbie clothes. I remember this dress being my favorite because it was sparkly and racy. I always got in trouble though because I would pull it under Claudia's boobs and make her work the hotdog stand topless. My mom didn't approve.

She had the hots for Ken. He is also a doctor. But he moonlights as something else.

Ken was not monogamous. He liked all of my Barbies. He really liked Keira and her head to toe denim ensemble. See. I had some cool Barbie clothes that weren't made from old socks.

My Barbie furniture consisted of my mom's 1960's dresser and this plastic couch I covered with flannel. Did I mention that I was making sock dresses and reupholstering furniture at 6? It actually explains a lot about who I am today. 

Today was kind of a let down. I realized that the Barbie collection I once was so proud of was actually pretty lame. My Barbie car was one of my brother's toy cars, my clothes were made of socks, and my furniture was either 45 years old or not meant for Barbie at all. I also realized that we were a lot poorer than I ever knew. The sock dresses gave it away. But you know what? My childhood was fun, ghetto Barbies and all. And Beatrice doesn't have a clue how ridiculous my collection is. She thinks my Barbies are awesome.

She likes their boobies. And their hair. And their clothes. And their accessories. And their furniture. Just like I did.

34 Weeks

I walked past a mirror the other day and was shocked at what I saw. I have a huge, giant belly. I guess I haven't been looking in too many full length mirrors lately because I had no idea that I looked this pregnant. I mean, I know I am very pregnant, but I guess I didn't realize how huge my belly has gotten. Ever since I saw my reflection, it dawned on me that I have a human inside of me. Not a tiny little fetus, but a human. A human big enough to live and breathe on the outside and make her mama unrecognizable in a mirror. My huge, giant belly has a huge, giant human inside. Whoa.

Stats


Weight gain: I'll post the final number at the end, but I have a feeling it's not looking good for me. I made some awesome apple streusel cheesecake bars on Friday and half of the 9x13 pan is gone. It's so weird, I'm not sure where all those cheesecake bars went....
Stretch marks: This has been hard for me. I found some stretchies on my belly this weekend. I never got any with Beatrice and seeing these new ones really freaked me out. I know I should be proud of my body and consider these marks my battle scars of pregnancy, but it's really hard watching my body change in a way that probably won't ever be the same again.
Movement: There were a couple days this weekend when I didn't feel her much at all. I was this close to going to the hospital for monitoring, but decided to try eating something sweet and lying down for a bit. So I ate some apple streusel cheesecake bars and got her going. She's been wild ever since.
Cravings: Ice. And chocolate cake. Intensely.
Sleep: Pretty good. The late pregnancy exhaustion has hit me hard so falling asleep is no problem anymore. Also, I haven't had any caffeine in 2 weeks or so. It helps me sleep so much better.
Best moment this week: Taking a long walk to the park with my little family and not feeling like I was going into labor.
Gender: Still a girl.
Labor signs: Lots of contractions, lots of pelvic pressure, and lots of other late pregnancy stuff.
What I miss: My stretch mark-free belly. They'll go away after I have Penelope, right?
What I'm looking forward to: Meeting the huge, giant human growing inside of me.
Weekly wisdom: Growing humans is the coolest, most amazing experience God has allowed me to have. Stretch marks and all, what a blessing sweet babies are. But they'll go away, right???
Milestones: MY FIRST STRETCH MARKS.

There are stretch marks under my shirt. And a huge, giant human. And maybe some apple streusel cheesecake bars.

Paradise In The Toys R Us Parking Lot

If you've been keeping up with my weekly pregnancy stats, you know that I have a mild obsession with ice. It's probably the July heat that is inducing this flavorless craving since most of my normal cravings involve things topped with buttercream and oozing with chocolate. I hate ice usually, but there is something about it that makes this 100 degree heat index more bearable. Probably the fact that it's ice and ice is cold. Probably. Ice is kind of a priority in my life right now.

When I was in high school, my friends and I were obsessed with rollerblading our local greenway fitness trails. After blading 7 miles after school, we would head over to this shaved ice trailer parked in the tanning bed parking lot. $1 got you a mound of freshly shaved ice covered in delicious high fructose corn syrup and endless flavor options. My favorite was wedding cake. The other day, I told my best friend that my life would be complete if our town still had that shaved ice trailer. She said that it did. The trailer was parked in the Toys R Us parking lot. Shut. The. Front. Door.

Ommmmmmmmmm.

This makes me happy. Very, very happy. The only catch is that they are only open from noon until 6 every day. Smack dab in the middle of lunch and nap time. No biggie, I simply make sure Beatrice and I are running errands on that side of town around noon a few times a week. Shaved iced sometimes equals lunch. Sometimes. The other catch is that they only accept cash. This is a major catch since I never have cash. I have been hoarding quarters and searching JD's pockets for dollar bills so I can indulge in my frosty treat. Are ATM fees justified when you have a craving that just won't quit? Because of weird hours and the cash only thing, I have only been 3 times since I discovered this little paradise. That's not even close to being enough to satisfy my need for ice, but I am making due. Mostly with mango and peaches and cream.

I have dreams about shaved ice. I think of ways to get to the trailer before 6 and not have to answer to JD about why dinner isn't ready, or even started yet. I consider new ways to make cash. I have thought about breaking into the trailer and stealing the ice shaver or better yet, hitching that trailer to the back of my car and hauling the whole shebang off to an undisclosed location for my own personal consumption of shaved ice. Only for a second though, because that is stealing and JD says there is nothing worse than a thief. Plus, I'm pretty sure a Maxima can't haul a shaved ice trailer into the woods by my house. Can it? 

All of this nonsense for ice. What can I say? I am obsessed. It is that good.

Crisis

Yesterday we ran out of toilet paper. After 3 separate trips to the grocery store today with TP on the top of each one of my lists, I finally came home with some replacement.

Sheesh. You would think with all of the potty breaks I take, toilet paper would be a priority.

I Was Born This Way

I have really long extremities. And digits. My arms, legs, toes, and fingers are really long. Abnormally long. I also have a long torso so I don't look ridiculous with hands dragging the floor or anything. My height sort of evens things out. The biggest problem I have with long body parts, besides finding clothes to fit, is banging them into things. Mostly walls, door frames, furniture, and other objects in my path. I am constantly hooking my toes on door frames, whacking my funny bone on the pantry door, and banging my elbows into walls. This has been a problem my whole life. And I'm sick of it.

It's not that I'm clumsy, although JD would have to disagree after watching me fall walking up the stairs a few times too many. My long arms and legs just have a mind of their own and when I think I've cleared a doorway, I forget to overcompensate for my monkey toes that unfailingly snag the woodwork leaving me doubled over with nothing but self-pity and pain. JD always asks me if I say bad words when this happens and I don't. I usually say a really exaggerated ouch or something. Although the s-word has escaped a few times when I really can't help it. The word just flies out. Something about my funny bone and that word are connected. I repent every single time. Promise. 


This elbow-whacking has been happening for years, so while I'm not happy about it, I am used to it. But it's worse now. Have I mentioned that I'm 8 months pregnant? Well, I am. And pregnancy tends to make one's center of gravity not so centered resulting in more clumsiness than usual. So not only do I have long arms to watch out for, I am wobbly to boot. These are hard times, hard indeed. But I am making it.

At least once a week, I ask God why he made my extremities so long. Did He have a bigger plan for my long-leggedness than me tripping over my own feet? Surely He did. There must me a purpose for this nonsense and pain. Sadly, my babies have the same ailment. Long arms, legs, toes, and fingers run in my family and we are all prone to hooking our extremities on everything. I guess it is something they are going to have to get used to. That and refraining from saying bad words. Because while a lifetime of funny bone injuries may be normal for them, the s-word will not be. Promise.

33 Weeks

Penelope will be here next month. I've been waiting awhile to be able to say that and I gotta tell you, it feels good. July 1st could not come soon enough so that I could finally say that my baby is due next month. How wonderful!

I remember saying that when I was pregnant with Beatrice. I did not have the same emotions then as I do now. I wasn't ready then. I didn't know what to expect or how hard it would be. I sort of dreaded being a month away from my due date because of the fear I had with having my first child. Now? I know how wonderful it is. And hard and exhausting and beautiful and worth it all. The next few weeks can't pass quickly enough. Next month, I'm having a baby!

Stats


Weight gain: Not posting until the end, but I will say that at my appointment last week, I had a lovely experience on a new scale. It's not over until the fat lady sings. I just hope I'm not the fat lady....
Stretch marks: Just the 1.
Movement: Tons and tons and tons and tons and tons and tons and tons and tons and tons and tons.....you get the idea.
Cravings: Ice. Icees. Shaved iced. Italian ices. Icicles. Ice pops. Ice water. Iceland. The Ice Age.
Sleep: Better than last week, still not great.
Best moment this week: Not going into preterm labor. I have been having regular contractions for a week now. The doctor is not concerned. I am freaked out by all of this uterine activity. I cried a little this weekend due to some scary contractions. Baby is fine. Mama is a nervous wreck.
Gender: Girly girl.
Labor signs: See above. Lots o' contractions. Lots. And lots and lots and lots and lots and lots. And lots.
What I miss: Sleeping on my stomach. Or back. Just sleep, actually. I miss sleep, any way I can get it.
What I'm looking forward to: Next month :)
Weekly wisdom: God is in control of my uterus. And yours too. Except for the dudes. He's in control of other stuff for you. This is getting weird...
Milestones: Next month, Penelope will be here!!!

Independence Day

"While we are zealously performing the duties of good citizens and soldiers, we certainly ought not to be inattentive to the higher duties of religion. To the distinguished character of Patriot, it should be our highest glory to add the more distinguished character of Christian."

- George Washington

It's Not So Bad

We got our new dishwasher. It's shiny and new and smells like plastic. I love it. We had it installed yesterday. Today, our dryer decided to stop heating. Our 2nd floor looks like this:

Thankfully, we bought an extended warranty on it, but the technician can't get out to check on it until later next week. Normally, this would make me mad. Normally, I would pout and ho and hum about how it was going to suck to not have a working drying. Normally, I would complain.

But I didn't do that today. I'm not upset or even put off by the lack of a working appliance. I have decided to be thankful for the things that are good. I'm thankful that we have an extended warranty and will not have to pay for this repair. I'm thankful that we have ceiling fans to air dry our clothes. I'm thankful that we are conserving electricity. I am thankful that even though this is inconvenient, we are blessed.

God has never left us without shelter, food, or clothes. The basic necessities of life have always been taken care of. But more than that, He has blessed us with so much more. I think it is important to thank Him for the abundance of what we do have instead of complain about the things that we don't. So that's what I'm doing. We aren't lacking an appliance, we are blessed and grateful for the things that we do have.

Dryers are for wusses anyway.

I'd be mighty obliged for your clicks.

The Darnedest Things

We are finally at the stage where we have no idea what's going to come out of Beatrice's mouth. She repeats everything and says some pretty hilarious things at inopportune times. It's fun. And did I mention hilarious?

One night when I was rocking her before bed, I told her to quit picking her nose. She looked at me and said, "God made boogies, mama."

While shopping for huge new bras at Target this week, Beatrice was having a fit to hold them. I handed her one and she said, "whoa, BIG bra."

Tonight during bath, I told Beatrice that God made her arms, legs, toes, etc. She patted my chest and said, "God made mommies." She then proceeded to state that God made lights, balls, shadows, mirrors, and giraffes.

When out in public, any strange noise that we hear elicits a loud, "mama toots" from our girl. It is typically followed by a louder, "mama poops." I assure you mama takes every precaution to do those things at home, just so you know.

Another night we were snuggling and Beatrice was pointing out all of my face parts. "Mommy's eyes, mommy's nose, mommy's face, mommy's other face. Mommy has 2 faces!" While I do have 2 sides to my face, I am not 2-faced. Promise.

The other night, Beatrice pooped in the tub. This is always a scary thing for me so I quickly got her out and yelled for JD to come help. I guess she determined that I was scared and put 2 and 2 together to relate fright with frogs because she declared that there were "frogs in the baff (bath)." She talked about those frogs and how they scared mama for days. And that object floating in the tub is not a frog, it is a donkey. And that's not code for anything. It's just a plastic toy donkey. 

And finally, whenever Beatrice meets someone new or encounters a new toy, she says, "Hi, name's Beatrice. Hi." It's adorable.