20 months going on 4 years old

Gabe's cuteness these days is staggering. He is sweet and helpful and charming and chatty and scrumptious. My parents and I spend every two seconds exclaiming over something else he said or did. He imitates everything you say, and combines 2 or 3 or even 4 words together to make mini sentences. "Mama go cahhhr, Gabe get down walk, bye choo choo, Nonna help Gabe, I sit chair," and so on. He narrates everything we do, and has definite opinions about the state of the world. He says 'no' firmly with a shake of his head and he cannot be persuaded otherwise, no matter how many different ways I present the same question. His 'yesh' is the same way. A sweet nod and a smile if he likes your offer. He answers me in Spanish or English and seems to understand almost everything we say.

He loves cars and diggers and trains and trucks. I've taken him on miniature trains at amusement parks or to stand on the subway overpass and he can barely contain his excitement. While we drive, he points out every digger or 'bire (fire) truck' or car. His newest interest is dinosaurs and the dinosaurs seem to engage in serious battles where one dinosaur bites the head or tail of the other one. Then they call out "help" (which is his favorite request from any one of us) to one of their other dinosaur buddies and they get rescued.

He separately identifies baseballs, soccer balls, footballs, basketballs and golf balls. He will also correctly identify the sport from its various paraphernalia, such as a goal net for soccer or a bat for baseball or a helmet for football. He also, to my chagrin and his father's pride, can recognize the Red Sox or Patriots logos as their respective sports. He kicks hard and throws harder and swings a golf club with follow through and occasionally even hits a baseball with the baseball bat if I lob it at him slow enough. He imitates the professional athletes on television, so he lifts his leg when he pitches and lines up the soccer ball before he kicks it. I remind myself regularly that he is only 20 months old, because he seems so much bigger than that.

Everyone tells me that he will seem huge when this baby arrives, but that seems impossible because he is already huge. He is barely a baby and so much little boy all at once. I can't look at him without smiling, even when he has thrown his 79th piece of food on the floor. Today he angrily threw my cell phone onto the public bathroom floor and when I admonished him, he sheepishly looked up at me through his long eyelashes and said "soyry Mama". And then my heart broke just a tiny bit. Maybe if I box him up he'll stay this size forever?

** (He's actually 21 months now, but I wrote this post a couple of weeks ago)

I'm seeing double!

This Saturday is a huge church tag sale that we've attended for the last two years, and we're making serious plans to attend this one. We have secured the aunt to babysit for Gabe, we are arriving early, and we are coming prepared with lists of items we need to purchase.

This year, you see, we are in need of a serious item- a double stroller.

I've mentioned before that Gabe is a really active kid, and I've done a few outings without a stroller in malls or short walks, but I still think we're going to need a double stroller to get us through the first 6 months to a year with the new baby. In the first few months, I hope to wear the baby while we're walking, but if this one grows at the rate of his or her big brother, that is going to be a short-lived plan.

So... advice please!

I am pretty flexible on what I'm looking for in a double stroller, so I'd love all suggestions. I just want it to be easy to push. I don't jog, but I do walk for longish periods of time. It would be nice if the stroller had bigger wheels since certain neighbors don't clear their sidewalks of snow when they are supposed to, but I guess I could push my single stroller that has bigger wheels on those days and hope the baby doesn't weigh that much.

I'm planning on going in with a list of double strollers, Josh and I will split up, and we'll try to find one of our top choices. Right now, I'm thinking about one of the Maclarens, or Mountain Buggy, or the Bob Duallie, or the Phil and Ted's. All completely different choices, so I can use all the advice I can get.

We're also looking for lots of "dino, dino, dino" toys, but that is a whole other story. Feel free to also give advice on dinosaurs, though, if you're so inclined.

*****************************
Update: Nothing, nil, nada. We couldn't find anything worth the money, and then I found out that a fantastic baby store was having a sidewalk sale and all their store model strollers were on super clearance, but of course we got there late because we were at the other sale and missed all the good deals. I'm so mad about it!

Anyway, I'm on the hunt on Craigslist and Ebay and hope I can find something decent sometime soon. At least I found a fabulous sling (this one), and maybe that'll get me through the first couple of winter months until I figure out this whole stroller thing. Ugh.

someone owes this baby a pony

Guess whose placenta moved a whopping 4 cm?

Guess whose baby is head down?

Guess who is cleared for a vaginal birth?

Guess who is so happy she cried hot fat tears in the doctor's office?

Me me me me me me me me me me. So we went out for sushi to celebrate where Gabe consumed copious amounts of seaweed salad, chicken katsu, edamame, and broiled eel. And I thanked my lucky stars for a beautiful boy, another beautiful babe on the way, and hopefully an easy last couple of months of this pregnancy. Thanks for all your prayers and positive thoughts. The baby has his or her head wedged between the placenta and the cervix, so maybe I also have him or her to thank for tugging on that umbilical cord and moving that placenta out of the way. Who knows, but we'll definitely be celebrating in this household for quite some time.

more little boy than toddler

Do you remember what today is?

Today was Gabe's first official day of "SCHOOL"! (Otherwise know as the toddler program in my neighborhood)

I didn't mention anything to him about today's big event until a couple of days ago when I started telling him that he was going to go to school soon, what the teacher's name is, what he would be doing, and what he would have for snacks, etc. I was a tiny bit nervous, not because Gabe is a clingy child, because he falls far more on the too independent for his own good side, but because the past two and a half weeks have been out of control.

First, we were in California where between jet lag and general upheaval, his bedtimes and naptimes fluctuated wildly. Then last Wednesday we flew to Atlanta where I was the Matron of Honor at my friend's wedding and Gabe watched more television in the span of 3 days and slept stranger hours than he had in his entire life. Between helping my friend put together her favors and centerpieces (!!!) and running random errands for her, poor Gabe ate horrible junk food at strange times, took naps in the car or far too late, and was going to bed at 1am and waking up a number of times a night to call for me. It was a bit of a nightmare.

Thankfully, Josh arrived in Atlanta on Friday night and he helped me get Gabe under some semblance of a schedule again while I was able to devout myself entirely to the wedding festivities all day on Saturday. Last night we flew home to Boston, had Gabe bathed and in bed by 8:45pm and we kept all fingers and toes crossed that this morning would go well. He did wake up twice during the night to ask for us, but this morning he woke up at 8:15am, happy as a clam and shockingly excited to go to school (although who knows what he thought 'school' actually was).

We dressed, packed our new backpack with a change of clothes and diapers, took our all important picture and walked the 4 blocks to the toddler program, while I told him all the exciting things he would be doing during the day.

By the time we arrived, he was ready. We walked inside, he walked over to the teacher, gave her an unsolicited hug, and settled in with a "choo choo" and a truck. I sat there nervously for a few minutes, unsure of whether I should leave or not, and finally decided to give him a quick kiss and run out the door. So I leaned over, told him that Mama was leaving now, gave him a kiss, and started edging toward the door. He looked over at me, looked back at the trucks, and called "buh-bye Mama" over his shoulder as I walked out the door.

And that was it.

He apparently played the entire time, never asked for me, ate his snack and lunch with no problem, and didn't want to leave when I came back. I came back early, just in case, and the teacher told me that he was definitely fine to stay for the entire time on Wednesday.

I, on the other hand, had tons of plans for my first stretch of free time and ended up taking care of the flat tire I discovered when I backed the car out of the driveway. Fun fun fun. Turns out I had TWO nails in my tire, plus the tires are going bald, so I have a service appointment Wednesday to hopefully take care of everything. Phew.

All in all, a successful day. I'm ecstatic that Gabe did so well, and I'm hoping this keeps up over the days to come. Most of all, I'm so stinking grateful to be home and for all this traveling to be over. I'm having tons of pressure and what I assume are braxton hicks contractions, and I take this as a sign that I need to slow down.

Next up, Halloween decorating. What? You're surprised? Josh is lucky I didn't start decorating before Labor Day.

maybe low cut shirts will distract everyone

My stomach has finally exploded to achieve it's full 6 and a half months pregnant potential. I'm enjoying the fully pregnant look and finally fitting into my maternity clothes.

Unfortunately for me, it seems that my ass is expanding to counter balance the large belly. The scale isn't showing the pounds changing, but I see it as I look in the mirror every morning.

The cupcakes could also possibly not be helping, but I'm not yet ready to give those up.

smokin' hot

California is very, very, VERY hot. Especially when you're pregnant. It is definitely too hot to take your child to Fairytale Town and the Zoo and Funderland and chase after him in the 100+ degree heat. Once you have soaked through all your clothes due to the copious amounts of sweat, you may actually start to feel a little lightheaded and have to retire to the car. It is too hot to take him to the park, too hot to take walks, too hot even to drive places because that means returning to your boiling hot car and waiting for it to cool down.

I feel terribly guilty because I know it is getting colder in Boston as I type and I should be taking advantage of these last days of summer, but I'm just too hot to deal. I end up throwing Gabe in the backyard and watching him through the sliding glass doors from the comfort of the air conditioned kitchen. That's not neglect, right?

Besides that, the visit is good. I am fulfilling my destiny as a pregnant woman and sleeping 10 hours at night and taking 2 hour naps in the afternoon. Every other second of my awake time is spent eating. I wish I were exaggerating, but alas, I am not. Add to that the fact that I am too hot to exercise at all, and Josh might have to roll my inflated booty off the plane in 2 weeks.

Gabe is loving his grandparents and gets incredibly upset when they leave for work or go to the bathroom. He stands at my dad's door screaming his name in the morning until he gets up to play with him. It is fun to see, and I'm glad he is enjoying them so much.

I had a pang of sadness this morning when I realized that he was missing his first day of school because we are here, but hopefully he won't be left out too much from all the social cliques of the toddlers. Toddlers don't have social cliques, right? I'm telling myself that he is also missing all of the crying and separation anxiety from the first few days and he'll be able to glide right in when we are back in two weeks.

I'm off to search for a nearby pool, because that might be the only thing I can tolerate in this heat. I'll apologize in advance for anyone who has to see my rapidly expanding body in a bathing suit. Ugh.

lap child on a plane might be a problem when your lap is seriously diminished

Things are looking up these days on the patience front. This may or may not have to do with the fact that I went away on a girls' weekend for the first time ever since Gabe was born. My inlaws graciously volunteered their house in Sarasota, Florida for my law school friend's bachelorette party, and last weekend we all headed down there for a fun-filled weekend of partying and sunshine.

HA.

Hurricane Gustav decided to make his presence known from the moment we touched down until the moment we took off. Monday afternoon, however, as I boarded the plane, was gloriously sunny and warm. Every other day, however, the windows inside the house were dripping with condensation because of the sheer quantity of monsoon type rain and winds and mugginess outside. My inlaws' ceiling actually started leaking in the breakfast area and I had to make a very unpleasant call to them on Sunday evening to let them know that I was afraid the roof was caving in on us.

Still, it was nice to be responsible for myself for a change, and not to have to deal with the ever-changing demands of a tiny person. Except for the one housed inside me, I mean. That person was well taken care of with chocolate chip cookies and ice cream and pizza. Isn't that what you eat on vacation? That same little person woke me up in the middle of the night on each night we were in Florida with acidy-burning-my-throat-alive acid reflux, so perhaps he or she was less than grateful for my food choices. I even called my mom at 3 am just to ask her what I could possible do with home remedies to make it stop, since I had no medicine in the house.

The little break was good for my spirit, because I've come back refreshed and missing Gabe and Josh desperately. It also helps that I've acquired that much desired spurt of nesting/cleaning/decluttering energy promised in the second trimester. I feel good, mostly, I have tons of energy, and I'm excited and happy for this baby to arrive. I've spent hours during naptime scouring the internet for ideas on Gabe's big boy room, and throwing out things we've kept in storage for 6 years of marriage. I think the charities I've been calling for pick-ups must be wondering where on earth we've been keeping this much junk. Just yesterday morning, I threw out 10 years worth of college twin sheets and blankets and old clothes and microwaves and law school textbooks (because honestly, what was I doing with my constitutional law text?) and plates and mugs and magnets. My front yard looked like a garage sale, minus the organized tables. I have things listed on Craigslist and Ebay and I'm taking any reasonable offer for people to haul away my stuff.

The guest room or Gabe's future room is a veritable disaster of books and papers and pictures that need to find a home in the very near future. Plus, to make matters even more crazy, I'm leaving TOMORROW for California for 2 weeks, then flying straight to Atlanta where I'm the matron of honor in my friend's wedding, then back to Boston, and the next day Gabe starts school at his new toddler program. Phew. I'm tired just writing it all down, much less living it.

I'm keeping my eyes on the prize, though. Once September 21st hits, there will be no more traveling, no more craziness, and I can focus on my new obsession- picking bedding for Gabe's new room. Do you have any idea how much a pregnant woman can obsess over whether a toddler or twin bed is better? Or whether the alphabet or trucks is more appealing with a toddler? Blue or red duvet? Blue or green or yellow walls? Is two rooms in the house painted yellow too much? What about rugs? Seriously, this is what keeps me up at night.

I suspect I'm avoiding considering the whole placenta thing too, and every time I go to the bathroom I nervously eye the toilet paper, just waiting for a speck of blood to appear and my whole world to come crashing down. I'm in a rush to get the house in order because I know that at any moment I might have to go on bed rest and that is terrifying. Terrifying. So I avoid the thoughts and focus on September 23rd, when we'll have the ultrasound that will tell us what is likely to happen come December. Keep up your placenta moving thoughts. Maybe it is wishful thinking, but I have been feeling more kicks in the cervical region and I hope that is a harbinger of good things to come. I hope my placenta is a mover and a shaker, that's for sure.

happiness is...

finding all of the "kittle kittle cahs" lined up on your kitchen floor.

maybe i need more chocolate

My patience is seriously lacking these days. I hate to admit it, but I find it terribly hard to deal with a toddler while pregnant. Some days things are fabulous- Gabe is easy and sweet and compliant, and then other days, like today, I want to lock myself in the bathroom and scream.

We walked to the park that is over a mile away because it's his favorite, which was probably a HUGE mistake because I almost melted from the heat and humidity. On the way, we stopped at one of my favorite coffee shops. They have multiple little bead maze toys at the coffee shop, so I unstrapped Gabe to let him play while I ordered. Big mistake. Within 30 seconds, he was running around the cafe like a madman and ignoring the bead mazes completely. In the meantime, 3 other children who were around the same age sat around quietly with their mothers/caregivers and played nicely at the tables. I sat at the table to get him to calm down and in his haste to get away, he knocked over my full iced coffee onto me and all over the floor and then took off across the coffee shop again.

It took all my mental fortitude to keep it together as I'm chasing him around and then getting down on my hands and knees and wiping up the coffee. It didn't help that the workers at the coffee shop were totally unsympathetic and pretty unfriendly to me when I told them about the coffee spillage.

We left shortly thereafter and headed over to the playground, where we played nicely for 20 minutes before slipping off of a rocker and getting a bloody lip. Back to the house we went, kicking myself for not thinking through this heat and humidity thing. We arrived and I got distracted answering an email for a minute or so, until I heard water running in the kitchen. Gabe had dragged a chair over to the kitchen sink, turned on the water, taken the sprayer and SPRAYED THE WHOLE KITCHEN DOWN. We're talking some serious flooding. And I felt that I couldn't even get that mad, because I'm the one that wasn't supervising him in the first place! It was so much water, I had to run to the basement and grab all our beach towels to mop up the mess, and I'm still finding piles of hidden water everywhere. Inside drawers, under the sink, under the stove.

It's moments like these that make it so hard for me to hold it together. Before being pregnant, I would laugh it off in most circumstances, but these days, I either get furiously angry or break down in tears. I've never wanted to spank Gabe before, but these days I find myself wanting to give him a smack on the hand or a swat on the behind. I find myself yelling more too, and this just isn't the environment I want him to be in. I certainly think there is a time and place for me to raise my voice, but lately it is happening more and more often.

I hate myself for being this tired, this impatient, this frustrated, but it isn't something I'm doing intentionally. I'm doing my best to hold it together, and there are just days when it feels almost impossible.

Tell me this is a typical pregnancy thing. Tell me it's going to get better once this baby comes. Or at least will I learn to cope with the frustration?

****************************

In other happier news, today marks 6 years from the date Josh and I walked down the aisle together. I'd do it again in an instant. He is my best friend, my confidante, my sanity keeper, and everything else in between. On the one hand, we cannot possibly have been married for 6 years already, and on the other hand, it feels like we've always been together.

I am so unbelievably, impossibly, shockingly lucky to call him my husband. I don't know what I did to deserve him.

in the slow lane

The placenta hasn't moved.

Our ultrasound was yesterday, and I'm undeniably upset. The good news is that it is no longer a complete previa, but the placenta is still covering part of the cervix and I've been put on pelvic rest until the next ultrasound (September 23rd). A high risk doctor did the actual ultrasound, and he was pretty positive about our chances for movement before delivery, so I'm trying to stay positive too. I'm avoiding all thoughts of what might happen if it hasn't moved by September 23rd, because those are the kinds of thoughts that might push me over the edge of anxiety (bed rest, bleeding, surgery).

We did get a chuckle out of the appointment, though, when I probed further about the definition of pelvic rest.

OB: No sex.
HL: But what exactly does that mean?
OB: No intercourse.
HL: So no orgasms?
OB: Oh no, orgasms are fine.
HL: Ohhhh, thank God. That's fine then.

(Big laugh from the room)

High Risk OB: I guess he'll just have to work a little harder, then.

(More laughter)

OB: All we're saying is please don't put objects in your vagina. Everything else is fine.
HL: Oh great, that's not a big deal at all. (visible relief)

(Josh tries to sink into the floor from mortification)

We had a full ultrasound look at the baby, who is still appearing adorable and healthy and perfect. We got some 3-D pictures of the little cutie smooshing itself up against my placenta with one little hand against its nose and the other hand caressing the umbilical cord. It was so strange to watch it play with the umbilical cord and see it wrapped all around the baby. It makes me a little nervous, but the high risk OB said that the cord is unbelievably slippery, which is why cord accidents are so rare.

We still didn't find out the sex, although I was burning holes into the screen trying to catch a peek of private parts. I can't say anything for sure, although I never glimpsed a penis even though we had several viewings. I'm soooo tempted to find out, but I know that if I actually do find out I'll be disappointed that I didn't hold out until the delivery. Especially if this placenta situation doesn't resolve itself, I think the not knowing will help me through the third trimester. I have a whole other post ruminating on the topic, so I'll save this for another day.

In the meantime, we're shooting the baby more positive vibes and asking him or her to try pushing the placenta a little. We only need a 2 cm clearance away from the cervix, which seems so small. So doable. If only my uterus will move that sucker out of the way. I'm also going to be calling some acupuncturists and see if anyone makes any positive claims about being able to move placentas. Let's hope so!

toddlers are germy

Okay, okay, you all have convinced me to do it. I found myself obsessing over whether to do the toddler program or not, and after reading all of your posts, and confirming with the program's instructor that we could cancel if it didn't go well at all, I decided to do it. Since making the decision, I have felt a HUGE measure of relief. That tells me that my choice is probably the right one.

I'm still nervous about being away from him for a whopping 8 hours a week, but I'm also excited to see how he does with the program, and excited to have some time alone to do all the things I barely have time for these days. You'll laugh, but I'm so happy to have time to clean my house and do my laundry and keep things picked up and organized. All of those things have to get done at some point, but I constantly feel overwhelmed by the minimal amount of time I have to work on them. Imagining what it will be like to have 8 hours of uninterrupted time to do everything, plus nap times after that, feels luxurious. Plus, the thought of being able to take the dogs to the vet, or me to the OB, without packing 89 toys and snacks to keep Gabe entertained is awesome.

Now I'm just hoping he likes it.

The opportunity to do a different program only one day a week popped up over the weekend also, and I was tempted. I thought it would resolve my nervousness over Gabe being away for too many hours, but talking to my parents and Josh and my in-laws convinced me to stick with the two day a week program. It'll be more stable for Gabe, and everyone else insisted that I'd regret it terribly when I realized that one day a week was nothing.

So we're signed up and ready to go and I'm excited. Gabe won't actually be starting until September 22nd, because we're going to California to visit my parents for the first two weeks of the program. We're just working to survive between now and then, because Gabe is sick AGAIN. I broke down and took him to the pediatrician this afternoon because I simply cannot tolerate any more whining and crying and being up at night. What was the result? Another bout of Coxsackie (otherwise known as Hand, Foot and Mouth). For those of you keeping track, this is his 4th time with Coxsackie, the second actual Coxsackie infection in a month, the third overall illness in a month. I'm exhausted. Our sleep is a disaster, Gabe is falling apart, and both Josh and I are moping around the house with sore throats and congestion. We need some serious immune boosting around here!

At least the weather is rainy and gloomy too, so we're not missing out on too much!

how early is too early?

I'm facing a truly heart-wrenching dilemma.

A neighbor emailed me yesterday to let me know that the toddler program her kids have all been enrolled in has an opening for an under 2 year old. The opening would be for Mondays and Wednesdays, from 9am to 1pm. Gabe would be one of six children, 2 others around his same age and 3 over the age of 2. The cost is pretty reasonable and would run from September to June.

The program is somewhat structured, with playtimes, snacktimes, reading and music time, lunchtime, and even weekly baking! We stopped by the woman's house today to see her space and have her meet Gabe, and she seemed friendly and sweet. She has three grown children and has been doing this for several years. My neighbor had nothing but good things to say about her program, and said that her kids all loved it. I also have a call in to another mother who is sending her fourth child there this fall, an eighteen month old.

At first glance, I jumped at the opportunity. A toddler program would mean 8 hours of free time for me. 8 hours to run errands, go to doctor's appointments, clean the house, do laundry, exercise, take a nap! Come December, 8 hours would mean time alone with the baby! 8 hours would mean socialization for Gabe, structure, stimulation, learning to listen to someone else's discipline, lots of fun. 8 hours would also mean time away from my sweet boy. It means that someone else will have influence on him besides me. It means that he could pick up "bad" toddler behaviors that I've been studiously avoiding thus far. It means that I have to let him go, just that little bit.

I've realized over the past couple of months, though, that I need to find a way to get a break sometimes too. Josh works a lot. He leaves around 6:30 every morning and doesn't get home most nights until 7:30 or 8pm. He often is able to play with Gabe for half an hour, and then holes himself up in his office until 10pm or later every night. He has been exceedingly stressed lately, and it is exhausting for me to be alone with Gabe all day, cook dinner alone, clean up alone, do laundry alone, do all of the upkeep for the house, plus all of the errands, and then deal with an occasionally cranky husband (and child, of course).

I'm unbelievably grateful to Josh for how hard he works, so I don't want this to sound like I'm complaining about him. I'm not. He's awesome. He bends over backwards to help during the weekends, but still, it's hard. I need a break sometimes too, and since we've never even hired a babysitter before (mostly my fault due to nervousness on my part and not wanting to spend the money unnecessarily), the vast majority of the work falls on me.

So bottom line, I need to either get a babysitter or do a toddler program. I can't keep doing it all with minimal help, especially not with 002 on the way. Letting go is always hard, and although he is so big these days, he still seems like such a baby to me. I don't want him away from me for so many hours every week, but I acknowledge that he'll likely be fine and welcome the change of scenery. It's a hard decision to make, though. Any thoughts? Did anyone do a toddler program at 20 months? Is it too much? Am I being ridiculous?

keeping me busy these days?

Did I mention that a certain someone learned how to climb out of his crib?

AT EIGHTEEN MONTHS?!?!?!

He just wedged himself into the corner of his crib, leaned over the side and lifted his leg over the edge. Then he gently lowered himself down to the floor. All we heard was a little "thump" and then "pitter, patter, pitter, patter" and he was at his bedroom door trying to get it open.

The pediatrician was at a loss for advice. He is definitely too young emotionally to be put into a toddler bed, but of course we're terrified that he is going to injure himself on one of his exits from the cage. So far, we've been lucky. We're padding the bedroom floor around the crib, and locking the upstairs gate every night, and then hoping for the best.

I'm devastated, of course. I was hoping to keep him contained until he was 3! Now I'm hunting around for a decent toddler bed, since the move is approaching quickly. Has anyone used a crib tent? Should I even bother? What about duct tape?

I take it back

What a birthday! It's been a difficult morning and afternoon.

Gabe woke up at 4am and screamed nonstop for the whole morning until we finally accepted the idea that he was up for the day. At FOUR IN THE MORNING. Then, we had some plumbing problems so I waited 2 hours for the plumber to show up. He never did, and when I called he told me he wouldn't make it there for another 2 hours. I told him that I had an appointment and met a friend at my favorite diner for brunch. Unfortunately, it was closed and we had to pick a second choice. Of course, by then, Gabe was a disaster of a human being. Whining and crying and being generally uncooperative and unhappy. Even scrambled eggs and pancakes and toy cars and stickers couldn't cheer him up. We struggled through breakfast and finally make it home for a nap.

Sadly, I'm sitting here with the plumber while he details for me all of the terrible things that are wrong with our pipes, including the accusation that the person who did the plumbing for the kitchen did it all wrong and we'll never be able to sell the house the way it has been completed.
Hence, no nap for me, even though my head is throbbing and my eyes are burning.

AND, my friend sent me this music video, and since then I've been all weepy and melancholy about the idea that my baby is growing up. How did this happen? Why does time go by so quickly? Is this really how it happens? You blink and your babies are grown. I can't even think about it, because it breaks my heart. I want Gabe to stay my baby forever and ever and ever. Don't even get me started on the one that I'm currently gestating... I don't even want this one to come out lest it start growing up too.

So going back to my post early today, I lied. Apparently I am having a mini breakdown over this whole turning 30 thing. Hopefully, the rest of the day becomes a little cheerier!

the big fat 3-0

Today is my 30th birthday, and I have to say, I'm a bit underwhelmed. So far, I've been totally unbothered by this birthday. I did have a few hours last night where I kept reminding myself that these were my last few hours in my 20s. I'll never again be 20-something! I guess that should be more upsetting than it is, but I'm in a great place and happy to welcome in my 30th year!

Josh is wonderful as usual, Gabriel is awesome, and this cutie in the works is kicking away. It is a good day. We went on a road trip on Saturday, a date out on Sunday, a family dinner tonight, and next weekend a birthday party with friends and hopefully, a karaoke machine! It's been a good several days of celebration. I'm definitely a lucky, lucky girl.

the good times keep rolling in

Ok, I'm feeling a little better about the whole placenta situation. There were a couple of days in there where I couldn't imagine making it until August 19th, at least not with my sanity intact. I spoke to another OB, though, and he made me feel better, and your comments DEFINITELY made me feel better. I am loving the statistics and stories you all have given me. The OB assured me that in his opinion, I have no more of a chance of losing my uterus than anyone else who has a fluke complication during childbirth. He said that my worst case scenario is having to worry about having bleeding episodes and then ending up with a c-section. As a worst case scenario, that isn't all that bad, I figure.

I'm a little more relaxed now, and I've stopped crying every time the subject comes up. I'm just going to think positive placenta moving thoughts, and maybe go for acupuncture or something and see if they know how to move placentas.

We have had some bad luck this week, though, besides the placenta news. On Friday night, as a distraction, my mom and I decided to go see Mamma Mia at a nearby movie theater. I borrowed Josh's "new to us" car for the 10 minute drive. It happened to be the first time I've borrowed his car. The drive over was fine, but as I pulled into the parking spot, the check engine light came on and smoke started pouring out of the car. At the same moment, I was engaged in a huge argument with my mom, so I didn't even notice for a few seconds that the smoke was coming from my car, and that a screaming noise was emanating from the car.

We pulled into the spot at 7pm, and by the time we were actually towed home, it was 1:30am. First, they sent the wrong kind of tow truck. Then we were advised to go buy coolant fluid before the tow truck came. Then we had to wait for a flat bed. It was exhausting. Plus, we're super annoyed that this car that we just received is already breaking down. I had it towed yesterday morning to the mechanic, and I'm just waiting for the terrible news.

To add insult to injury, my mom left on Saturday afternoon, and we drove immediately to the Berkshires to visit my in-laws. The visit was great, but on the drive home, Gabe was acting really listless and lethargic. We assumed he was just tired from his trip, but as I lifted him out of his car seat, I felt him burning up. We ended up awake all night fluctuating between a 102.5 and a 103.2 fever. He's seemed better since yesterday afternoon, but this illness combined with the Coxsackie from last week and all of this upheaval is killing me.

Bad things come in threes, supposedly, so I'm hoping we're done with bad luck since we're past three bad things. We're going on 6, at this point! Besides that, life is good, and my days are punctuated with teeny tiny little kicks coming from inside. The baby especially liked "Dancing Queen" during the movie. This baby obviously has flare for the dramatic already.

placenta shmacenta

I always enjoy having the luxury to obsess over mundane things, rather than actual serious ones. Most of the time, I have that luxury, but sometimes something demanding of real attention pops up. Today, I had another OB appointment so that she could explain to me that as of this week's ultrasound, I have complete placenta previa. This means that my placenta is completely covering my cervix.

Apparently, there are various levels of placenta previa. Partial, marginal, low-lying, etc. Then, there's complete, where the placenta is lying perfectly over the entire cervix. Lucky me, guess which one I have.

She told me not to worry, right before she launched into a whole litany of what this entails. It increases my risk of severe bleeding, increases the risk of fetal death, increases the risk of blood transfusions, increases my risk of having to go on bed rest, and if it doesn't correct itself, we'd have to do a c-section right at 37 weeks.

The OB also said that she is confident the placenta will move. According to her, 85% of all early cases of placenta previa correct themselves, but this figure is based on all cases of placenta previa, not just the ones that are complete previa. So the fact that my placenta is completely covering my cervix might lower my chances of the placenta moving to a safer location.

I listened carefully to everything she had to say, nodded thoughtfully, and then raced to get more information from Dr. Google when I got home. Of course, Dr. Google had lots of scary things to say. Any type of bleeding would put me in the hospital, and if the bleeding couldn't be stopped, the baby would have to be delivered, regardless of fetal age. The bleeding can quickly go from nothing to majorly serious in a matter of minutes, especially if I start having contractions or dilation. Dr. Google also said that placenta previa can be a problem even after delivery, because while pitocin helps the uterus contract after a c-section and stops the bleeding from the removal of the placenta, the lower part of the uterus (where the placenta is when you have placenta previa) is not as good at contracting, so the bleeding is harder to stop. PLUS, one in ten cases of complete placenta previa also have placenta accreta, where the placenta improperly imbeds itself in the uterine wall, making it difficult to detach the placenta. This increases your risk of severe blood loss, and increases your risk of having to have a hysterectomy.

Right about there, I closed the computer and walked away.

I'm starting to believe this baby might really be trying to kill me. First, the surprise pregnancy out of the blue. Then, the crazy nausea, the migraines, the exhaustion. Now, this placenta previa and the scariness associated with it. There is a long time between now and December 19th for me to obsess about all of this.

My next ultrasound is on August 19th, and we're keeping all fingers and toes crossed that my placenta has started its gradual move. In the meantime, I'm not restricted from anything, and I'm welcoming all positive stories about placentas moving quickly and completely and then gloriously easy vaginal births. I'll also take positive placenta moving thoughts. Please.

maybe he's mad that we're back

We're back! We arrived tan (at least Gabe and I did, Josh was sunburned as usual), relaxed, happy, well fed and rested. At least, we were rested until Gabe stopped sleeping upon our return to Boston. It started with him refusing bedtime for half an hour, then it increased to an hour, and by last night we'd spent 5 nights in a row where he wouldn't go to sleep until after 10:30pm. It has been exhausting. He acts tired, but once we put him down to sleep, we're faced with hysterical tears, and he is just one of those kids who gets more and more tense when he's crying. It would take him hours before he collapses, and we're just not willing to make him cry for hours.

I end up sitting with him for a while as he begs to be taken downstairs. Once I reach my limit, Josh comes upstairs and sits with him some more. A couple of times I've even had to go back upstairs to relieve Josh because Gabe is so upset with the state of the world. It has been tough, really, really, tough. In the middle of all of this sleeping drama, as luck would have it, I had to leave Gabe overnight for the first time ever. I flew to Atlanta to host a bridal shower for one of my closest friends from law school, and those 36 hours while I was gone were apparently hell for Josh and my mom. Gabe refused to nap, refused to sleep at night, and my mom was up with him repeatedly on Friday night.

We assumed this was a case of mommy-itis, but my return brought no relief for anyone. So today, I called the pediatrician and begged for an appointment to see if there was a physical reason for all this sleep avoidance. It turns out, according to the blisters along the back of his throat, he has Coxsackie, otherwise known as Hand, Foot, and Mouth Virus. His sleep strike may have been initiated because his throat hurt whenever he'd try to sleep. I was pretty shocked because other than the sleep problems, we've had no other symptoms. No runny nose, no coughing, no crankiness during the daytime. He has some bumps on his feet, though, and now the telltale blisters in his throat, and she is pretty sure of the diagnosis. Poor little guy!

So I dosed him up with Tylenol tonight before bed to ease his discomfort, but regardless, we were up for close to an hour and a half trying to convince him to sleep. I finally put him down in his crib, told him firmly that it was time for "noni, noni" (our word for sleep), and shut the door. He whimpered pitifully for another 30 minutes, but finally pulled his blanket over himself and went to sleep. I almost collapsed with relief. I think I'm more exhausted than he is at this point. I also realize, of course, that all these beachy pictures don't make you feel my pain, but I promise you, it is bad. Very bad. I need sympathy. Ignore the relaxed looking pictures, we're dying over here.

Besides all this sleep drama, things around here are great. Our trip was very fun, although Aruban food was more expensive than anticipated. Our resort, besides being dirt cheap, had a great location, and our one bedroom suite was poolside, with a patio that opened directly onto a kiddie pool and pool bar and grill. The resort was across the street from the beach, so we would alternate between pool and bar, depending on how strong the sun was and how lazy Josh and I were feeling. The highlight of the whole trip, of course, were the resort's golf carts. I had to physically restrain Gabe every time we walked close to one.

My nausea seems to be decreasing slightly, thank goodness, because at close to 18 weeks, I'm at my wits end to achieve some relief. The exhaustion, however, seems to be getting worse. Today, I went down the basement stairs and back up, realized I'd forgotten something, and actually thought that I wasn't physically capable of making it down and up the stairs again. I have this bone deep tiredness that makes my whole body ache and my eyes burn. What is up with this? Is it anemia? Pregnancy? Dehydration? I can't figure it out.

We had our slightly early 18 week ultrasound today, and true to our word, did not find out the sex, although I tried to spy the nether regions with no success. I don't want to know, but at the same time, I DO. I REALLY, REALLY DO. It is killing me a tiny bit, I want to know so bad. Yet, I know if I find out I'll be disappointed that I didn't wait. Hence, I hold off on the finding out. Still killing me, though. We're having a repeat ultrasound in 4 weeks, though, because the baby was a little reluctant to show off his or her kidneys and blood flow. That means I have another 4 weeks to wrestle with my decision and obsess over whether I want to know or not. Hee!

I hope your summer is going splendidly also, full of surprises and cute kids.

snails and puppy dog tails

It has recently come to my attention that I have a boy living in my house. A boy, who despite his small stature and diaper wearing attire and limited vocabulary, is very clearly and obviously A BOY. At this moment, he is standing in front of me with his tricycle helmet on his head, a baseball mitt on his left hand, a tee ball in his right hand, his baseball bat at his feet, and he is experimenting with pitching. He smacks his ball carefully into his mitt, as he's seen on the televised Red Sox games, lifts his right leg in his modified pitcher's stance, and tosses the ball across the room.

18 months old today, and he thinks he is a professional ball player.

Before I open my eyes every morning, the first words I hear floating over the monitor are "bay-ball". Gabe often launches into long diatribes with "bahl" and "bay-bahl" and sometimes "bat" sprinkled in. Yesterday, I was trying his bathing suit on him while I packed for Aruba, and he insisted on running around the house for over 2 hours in the swimsuit (with inflated flotation devices around his waist) with his helmet on, his mitt and ball, and sweat running down his cheeks. His hair looked as if he'd just gotten out of the pool, he was so drenched in sweat from wearing his helmet indoors.

He likes basketball, golf, football, soccer, and any other sport that has a ball. Josh watches sports in the evenings sometimes, and while we're alone at home, Gabe often begs me to turn the tv onto sports. I've tried to convince him to watch something more age-appropriate instead, like Sesame Street perhaps, but his true love is sports. Every sport. Yesterday, he watched 45 minutes of golf. Golf! What could he possibly find interesting about golf? But he exclaimed excitedly over every putt and drive, and would narrate the scene for me while he watched.

And I swore I wouldn't let my kid watch tv, and now look at us. I have to distract him with playing outside to get him to stop asking for sports on television. Parenting is such a humbling experience sometimes.

Gabe has a nervous breakdown over every bus, truck, construction vehicle, motorcycle and bicycle we pass while driving. He points every vehicle out to us, even if all we can see is a piece of an orange crane over the tops of the skyscrapers in Boston. He's seen it, even if it is 3 miles away, and he wants us to know. He has learned the names for a "diggah", "dump cruck", "fah cruck", "cah", "cah-crain (train)", and loads of other words that bear no resemblance to the actual word, except that we recognize the meaning because he always calls them the same thing when he sees them. There is construction going on in our town center, and before we are even 5 blocks away, he starts naming all the vehicles he will see. I dread the day when the construction is finally done, I'll have a devastated child on my hands.

Our neighbor gave us a whole collection of orange construction vehicles, and we have to fight with Gabe to get him to eat and sleep without them. I've selected a couple of favorites, and even though they weigh a ton, I can't imagine trying to get to Aruba without them. We'd have to find a toy store near the hotel tomorrow morning if he woke up without his "crucks". It is an obsession.

The craziest thing, though, is that we have no books about trucks and we don't talk about trucks. I don't know anything about sports, in fact, I detest watching sports and do it as little as possible. His obsession has come from some inner part of his little boy psyche that knew it loved sports. He used to walk around the house with his plastic chicken leg from his play kitchen and pretend the it was a baseball bat. He'd toss around the dogs' toys because he didn't have balls. Until yesterday, he would put one of his shoes on his hand and pretend it was a mitt. He knows he loves sports, and he's not afraid to improvise.

It isn't fair really. Now I'm totally outnumbered when I have both Josh and Gabe whining for baseball every evening. I don't care whether this baby is a boy or a girl, but it better not love trucks and sports. I'm looking for my next child to love to take walks and explore flowers, and maybe play with a little with a play kitchen. Tea anyone?

just looking chubby, not pregnant

I don't want to alarm you, but I think this baby might be trying to kill me.

We're 14 and a half weeks and counting and I'm STILL sick. I still spend a good chunk of every day so nauseous that I can't move, I'm so tired that I lie on the couch for hours every afternoon, I have blinding headaches at least every other day, and did I mention the nausea? The nausea is pushing me over the edge. I was feeling so much better with Gabe by this point, so there are moments that are demoralizing. My OB keeps trying to make me feel better by promising that I'll feel better by 15 weeks, but again, since this baby might be trying to kill me, I feel little confidence about her promises.

Of course, there are really great things, like some stretches of the day where I feel pretty good. That is an improvement, it used to be 24/7 nausea. Now it's more like 14/7 nausea. There are also the tiny little flutters that I feel, and those tiny little flutters feel suspiciously like baby movements. It seems far out, because I didn't think you'd be able to feel a baby so soon, but I am choosing to believe that it's more baby than gas. There's also the great news that the baby checks out as totally normal, and our big ultrasound is scheduled for July 15th. I can't wait to check out all the little bits (except for the really revealing ones, of course, although I'm so tempted).

The strangest thing of all, is that I am barely showing. With Gabe I already had a decent pooch of a belly, but these days you'd never know that I'm pregnant. Only in the last two days have I seen any kind of transformation, and I suspect part of this is the fact that I started wearing maternity shirts and pants so they at least billow out to give an impression of a belly. Even my mom was disappointed with my lack of belly when she got off the plane for her visit this week. If I hadn't seen that baby repeatedly on the ultrasound, I'd be doubtful that it was in there at all. Don't get me wrong, the appearance of lovely pregnancy induced cellulite is here. I'm bloated and my thighs and butt have started growing already. I'm just missing the telltale tummy. Sadly.

Besides that, things are good. We're planning for a last minute vacation we planned for next week. I found a fabulous timeshare rental for a condo on Craigslist in Aruba for dirt cheap. Dirt dirt dirt cheap. We booked the tickets with mileage, and since we have a kitchen, we're hoping to eat most of our meals at the discount grocery store rate. I plan to spend every waking minute at the beach and the pool, reading trashy novels, eating ice cream, and hopefully growing that nonexistent belly. We leave on Sunday, and I am counting the minutes until then. And packing bathing suits and lots of sunscreen. Oh, and hoping that I'm not too nauseous to do nothing on the beach.