Whee!

Good news for us! We came into an unexpected slight windfall. With it, DH took me to PF Chang's for dinner. After a lovely meal of chicken lettuce wraps and beef fried rice, we decided to get dessert. Ladies and Gentlemen, I have met my culinary match. I simply cannot even attempt to finish The Great Wall of Chocolate. Six huuuuuuuge layers of chocolatey goodness with raspberry dressing. One layer later, I'm a happy camper, and The Cake is securely wrapped up for me to feast upon for the remainder of the week. :)

I think I might have felt the baby move today. It was definitely not gas. :) I felt N around 14 weeks, so 13 isn't that big of a shock, considering the idea that one usually feels subsequent babies sooner than the first. This makes it real now. :) I love this part. This is before B can feel it, and for now, it's just the Kiddo and Me.

Oh good

N's not scared off. He nursed about a billion times today. I'm okay with that. I did end up having him fall asleep in his high chair again. This might be his way of starting to put himself to sleep for the night. That's fine. If he does it this way, then I won't have to do it for him later. :) K&Ad came down today. K and I were in the youth group together years ago (he was a senior, I was a freshman), and there was some ambivalent crushing, and some I like you but maybe I don't, and a whole heap of highschool-ness, but we got out of it with a close friendship, and when he met Ad, and B and I were dating, we all started hanging out together. They're one of our few close couple friends. They actually got married the week after us. Anyway, they came down today, and we were discussing baby stuff--they're TTC, and it turns out that we have unintentionally jacked their girl's name. Ugh. I hate it when that happens. They'd be spelling it Eleanor, but it's still the same name. This just can't be easy, can it.

B had a crappy day at work, and felt the need to come home and bitch at me because K&Ad came over unexpectedly and we took N (who was going stir-crazy) to the mall instead of me cleaning up the whole house like B would ideally like. Seriously, the man needs to come up with some other way that I can show love for him. I sometimes think he randomly asks me to do things just to see if I'll do them and thus prove I love him. Frankly, it's a bit parental, and I don't like it. I'm pregnant (13 weeks today--yay!), tired, and I have zero motivation for keeping the house clean. Maybe if he were nicer about it I could manage to get some of it done. Honestly, there are times I feel like nothing I do (unless it's scrubbing the entire house top to bottom) is ever going to be good enough. Forget bearing the man's child. The whole house must be clean. It's really not even about the clean house. He knows there's something more, I know there's something more, and it's the elephant in the middle of the room. Except that it's not an elephant, and we really have no idea what the actual issue really is-we just know it's there, and it makes things tough. Things would be much easier if he'd actually consider going to counselling with me. But he doesn't feel that a stranger would be able to help us. @@ Dumbunny. That's exactly what we need right now-some outside perspective. Someone who doesn't have a personal interest in either one of us. Anyway, since he's so crabby and nagging and picky about housework, I really don't do much of it simply because the stuff I do take care of is not done the way *he* likes it. Unfortunately, if I do any housework, that leaves me feeling like I've rewarded his nagging and bitching, and I hate that. Sure, doing a load of dishes earns a break from the nag-and-bitch special, but the first time I even remotely slip up (like leaving a dish in the computer room), it's back to nag and bitch all over again. It's not like I never do any housework at all, it's just that I'm busy cleaning up after Captain Destructo most of the time, and simply don't have time to get to the dishes. It's worse now that he's worried about finding a new job after the school year ends. I'm perfectly happy to support him in his finding of himself, but not at the expense of my own mental health. Emotionally this pregnancy is harder than the previous one. I have very little patience, and it feels like B doesn't think he has to help out with N when he gets home since he's been working all day and N's my 'job' (he has no fucking idea), and that's creating a lot of resentment on my end. Bottom line: I'm in a place where I really need his support, and I don't feel like I'm getting it. I feel like the only thing I'm getting out of him is a list of my shortcomings. N bit me while nursing this evening, so I put him down. He got mad at me and went into the bedroom where B was getting ready to go to sleep. I ended up going in to retrieve him from playing on my side of the bed (B doesn't like him playing there for some reason @@-it's childproof-he's fine-let him be), and B carped at me for letting him go in there (Um-he didn't want to be with me-why else would he hunt you down?), and said, "Well maybe you should watch him a little better." There's nothing that frosts my cookies more than that statement. Ugh.

Big day

N fell down the stairs at my parents' house today. I left him in the room with my dad and brother, after dad said he'd keep an eye on him while I went to get my shoes. I got the shoes, turned around, and heard a series of thumps, and then my poor little baby crying. My dad had gone to his room to change clothes. N rarely goes for the stairs, and usually follows my dad everywhere, so this was a surprise. Dad feels so awful. N's okay--a call to the doctor, a few little bumps on his head, making sure he can still walk okay, and some Tylenol, and he's as good as new. I think I'll take N by my parents' to show Dad he's all right. He doesn't usually help me get N into the car, but tonight he didn't want to let him go. Poor man.

N also fell asleep without nursing tonight. He was so cranky, and so tired, and I was trying to get him to nurse and fall asleep, but he didn't want to nurse, so he clamped his little teeth (complete with poking through brand-new canines @@) down on my nipple and bit hard. I usually press his jaws gently to get him to release, and I did it so fast it scared him this time. I checked, and he didn't seem hurt, just really pissed off. He didn't nurse for another 2 hours, and this late at night, that's something. He ended up getting food-hungry, so I put him in his highchair, and he feel asleep during his 1am snack. I carried him to bed, and he didn't nurse. :( I'm sad. I truly hope I didn't scare him off permanently...

And the race is on....

To see who's right. A? Or my dream last night? I dreamed that I was sleeping on the couch when I awoke in Transition. The baby was coming, and there was no time to do anything else. B and N were in the room, N was in his high chair, and for some reason, 6 minutes is the time given, in 6 minutes of contractions, a beautiful baby boy was born. I remember being confused that he was born before the placenta was. That was a bit odd. Anyway, this boy is beautiful. I remember his face very clearly, and I feel I’ve met one of my children. Maybe not this child, but definitely a child of mine. Anyway, we called D, the midwife, and said everything was fine, but later, I didn’t feel that my placenta had come out, so as the dream ended, I knew we’d have to call her for help. But that thought didn’t bother me. The baby has the most beautiful brown eyes, and dark brown hair that curls all over his small head. He’s over 9 pounds, but not by much, and he’s so perfect looking. His name is Collin. It wasn't the name we gave him, but it was his name anyway.

My Emmy Red-Carpet observation...

Star Jones looks like a giant brown sausage. I was watching the pre-show most of the day, and Ms. Jones had crammed herself into the tighest, tube-iest gown possible. Not a good idea. Ew.

Baby Names again

Shelayla Shiobhon. A name gleaned from a sig line. I will begin my rant slowly, interject some interesting information, and then wind up to an all-out diatribe. Or maybe not.

Okay. Shelayla. Right. Going for an Irish baby time. That's fine. Totally fine. What's not fine is giving your child a name which roughly means, "Cudgel." I mean seriously folks, do we hate the poor little thing already? What's going to happen when this poor, sweet little girlie can't find her name in any baby book because it's not a name it's a noun. Not only that, a noun that means 'stick for beating things with,' Talk about potential self esteem issues. Furthermore, it's a made up spelling, adding insult to injury. I Googled it as a first name, and it only came up as a last name. As for Shiobhan, I hope this mother realizes that this is pronounced, "Hih-vawn."
A called today to tell me that this baby's a girl, and that she wants to be named Muriel. Mean mummy that I am (bas associations with the movie "Muriel's Wedding"), I nixed that, and asked her how she felt about Elinor. So far, so good. The Baby likes it, and if I can just convince B, we'll keep it. I'm really starting to fall in love with the name. Both spellings (Eleanor being the other one) are rather classic, and I think I like the Jane Austen spelling just a wee bit more. Of course, the fact that it happens to be the Tolkien spelling, too doesn't hurt it one bit. If in fact, Baby is a she, and she is named Elinor, we'll have to call her Nora or Nory for short. There are no less than 4 little Ellie's running around our immediate circle, and I abhor popularity when it comes to baby names. A was right about Ian, so we'll see what happens with this one.

I wish I could have talked to her longer, but the ILs were down. The oh, so frustrating ILs. I feel like such a jerk for not liking these people. I really do. They're very nice, but as my friend Adrienne puts it, "They're dumb. And not just dumb, but dumb and proud of it." MIL finished high school and went to beauty school. FIL had two years of Bible college (which usually provides a decent education), but has worked in factory jobs all of his life, and has just begun his second semester back in school to get his degree in business administration. I'm happy for him, but back to my rant. Anyway, I don't understand how their brain cells have lapsed over the course of the last couple of decades. I mean, how freaking hard is it to pick up a damn book? To be fair, all of MIL's time is spent watching her "soapies" and therefore she has no time to read. Note to MIL: A 50 year old woman ending words in "-ie/s" is not a cute sight to behold. Words ending in -ie/s are not automatically cute. Ever heard of scabies? 'Nough said. Anyway, self improvement in any form is unheard of by MIL, who is too stinking scared of everything to take even the tiniest risk for fear someone doesn't like her because of it. FIL's taking baby steps, but he's still obnoxious. MIL's gotten so used to being taken care of that she slips back into childishness (tone, mannerisms) without even realizing it. Drives me bonkers. We went to Red Robin for lunch. Glad we finally got one. Anyway, our RR has a tv installed in the floor right in front of the host stand. On the way out, the ILs have to stop and gawk, standing over said tv so that anyone coming in has to go all the way around them, and MIL shouts at the top of her lungs as we're almost out to the car, "B! Did you see the tv IN THE FLOOR!!! I didn't know they could do that!" Don't get me wrong, I'm all for wide-eyed wonder, but this is going just a little bit far, IMNSHO.
I don't like it when people spout things of which they obviously know nothing. Example. N has an incredibly dextrous left hand. He has excellent fine motor skills period, but his left hand amazes me. He picks up the tiniest things, and does the trickiest stuff with those little fingers of his. Anyway, B mentioned to The ILs that he's thinking N might be left-handed. MIL said, "That's weird, no one in our family is." I reply, "Actually, it's not that surprising, there are a lot of lefties on my mom's side of the family, particularly among the men." FIL (who can't bear to not have any attention and sympathy because his life has been soooooooo hard) says with a sulk, "I should have been left-handed, but they ruined it for me by making me use my right all the time at school." I asked him if he could write or do fine stuff with his left hand at all, and he said no, and blamed the school for ruining his Southpaw status forever. MIL (who, due to a childhood accident, only has a pinky and thumb on her left hand) pipes up and says that she might have been left-handed after all, but since she had to use her right, she was right-handed now.
Since I can't handle this kind of stuff being tossed out there as fact, I had to correct it. Hard dominance of one hand over the other is wired in the brain, you can't make it quit working. My Auntie Vi is a good 25-30 years older than FIL, and is a lefty. She said she used to hate the teachers in her school because they used to make her use her right hand all of the time. To this day, even though she never used her right hand in school, and didn't write that much at home, her left-handed writing is much clearer and neater than her right-handed stuff. I explained this nicely to FIL, and he sulked and said he was just thinking (He sulks a lot. B inherited the sulky gene. N better not've). I mean geez, heaven forbid the kid actually have a characteristic from MY side of the family. Everytime we see them, they comment about how he must get X characteristic from Uncle So and So, even though Uncle So and So isn't even biologically related to them (we're talking Aunt YooHoo's 5th husband or something), or how he looks just like Relative Q when he was a baby, on and on and on. N hates fresh cooked peas. If we try to give them to him, we're picking peas off of the floor for the next week. MIL found this out, and said, "Oh, he gets that from Uncle S, S always hated peas." Um, could he possibly just be like most toddlers who prefer their peas out of the skin? When the hell did not liking peas become a genetic trait? N will eat them mashed, but right now he's turning up his little nose at anything that's not bread, meat, or large strips of cantaloupe. Crazy kid. :)

B came into the living room this evening with a large glass of milk. He was balancing it on his knee when N decided that 14 months was plenty old enough to be introduced to milk, MOM, and he'll just have some of dad's thankyouverymuch. He loved it. Too bad for him that was the last glass. No more until grocery day. Oh well. At least I know that he can have it, and it's not going to turn him into some sort of bloody-intestined, destroyed-gut-flora mutant. Now, if he can just get over this cheese thing.......

I have a new boyfriend.

His name is Q. He's 7 months old, and is darling. I went to LLL today, and I've been watching this little guy grow. He has Down's Syndrome, and watching his development has been amazing. Honestly, I've never seen such a little guy produce so much attitude. LOL He's got this "I've totally got it made" look that crosses his face as he sits snuggled up in his mother's arms. He does, too. I held him for the first time today. I'd been sort of afraid to ask before. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I was afraid he might break or something. I think if my little one had Down's, my momma bear instincts would be in overdrive, and if his mom were feeling the same way, I didn't want to upset her by holding him wrong or something. Since then, I've gotten my head out of my ass, and gosh darn it, he was looking at me today, and I just had to hold him. I discovered that he has the most beautiful blue eyes I've seen on a baby since N's (which are now green), and he just gazed at me for minutes on end. It wasn't empty gazing either. This precious little one's eyes communicate like none I've seen before. It was amazing. I discovered that he loves having his hand held, and that if you tickle the bottom of his feet, he has the most delicious little giggle. I think I'm in love. :)
Seeing Q today and holding him, and just getting to know him made me think about things a little. I saw a website once, dedicated to babies who had been aborted for fetal anomaly. The baby's name was listed, and the disorder was listed under the name. Over and over and over again, I saw a name, followed by Trisomy 21. Thinking about it breaks my heart. There's no way right now to know how severe Down's Syndrome is until the baby is born. Q's parents didn't know of his condition before his birth. That was how they wanted it, and I totally understand. He's just such a precious little boy, I can't even begin to describe what a hold this child has taken on my heart. The absolute expression in this child's eyes, and his mother's pride and obvious adoration of him when she talks about or to him is something I wish everyone could see. It's amazing, and brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it.
Along the same lines, on NPR tonight, there was talk of how Nebraska ruled the partial-birth abortion ban unconstitutional because there was no 'health of the woman' exception. This is an expression I haven't heard before. I've always heard, even on NPR, the phrase as 'life of the mother.' What a slap in the face to my friends who have babies they have not gotten to meet. Maybe I'm overreacting (hormones, you know), but it seems to say that as long as the baby isn't actually born, that you're not a mother. Just a woman. Not that there's anything wrong with being 'just a woman,' but for me, Mother has a special ring to it. I want to say right now, that the many friends I have who have little ones that did not live to see this world, that they are every bit as much a mother as a woman with a living child. Carrying a baby changes you. You are no longer just a woman. You are a Mother.

I neeeeed sleeeeeep

I usually get sleep. But I've lately been staying up way too late online, catching up on my boards, emails, etc. N has been getting up around 9:30-10, which has been great for me. Unfortunately, he's decided that needs to change over the last 2 days. This morning he was up at 7:30 sharp. Not so good. Not only was he up, but he was up and ready to nurse. And nurse now. A lot. I really don't mind nursing this kid, but I'd prefer him to be able to space himself so that I don't wake up already touched out, like I did this morning. We're thinking it may be time to transition to the toddler bed. He sleeps well for the first part of the night in our bed by himself, and after a nursing, goes back to sleep for another long stretch. B insists there's no room in our bedroom for a toddler bed, but the unused crib is still in there, I see no reason why we can't move that out, and put the toddler bed in its place. It will be fine. I just hope N transitions easily and is happy in his new bed before the baby gets here. B is leaving his profession. He's beginning his 5th and final year of teaching, and is looking for something new. I'm combing job websites, and the local one isn't turning up much. We're in an area that's been hit hard by 9/11 as far as jobs go. The aircraft industry is huge here. Really huge. We've got plants for several major manufacturers and all of them have had layoffs over the last few years, so there are a lot of people and not that many jobs. Oddly enough, B can go work for the wireless company I used to work for, and after 6 months as a general rep, can get promoted to a Sr. Rep, with the potential to make about $20k more than he's making now. So not fair. He'd have to put up with a lot of crap, but it would be different crap than he's already dealing with, and it'd at least be crap that doesn't come from bureaucracy. I'm extremely proud of him. B's from a blue-collar family. A very blue-collar family. I don't think I've seen anyone embrace the blue-collarness as much as these people. Rednecks marry into the extended family here. For New Year's we drove up to see B's aunt and her fiance, who spent the day watching the football game, wearing his NASCAR jacket, drinking a Bud, and making sure that his mullet (halfway down his back) and mustache were in good working order. The more immediate ILs are content to sit around and bitch about how life hasn't gone the way they've wanted. Sure, they've had a few crappy things happen, but the main reason things don't get better for them is that they're ignorant and gullible, and perfectly happy to remain so. Blind optimism carries them through life. Yeah, there's a chance that something wonderful will happen and take care of everything for you, but the odds of winning the lottery are slim. FIL is always talking about what he's going to do when he wins the lottery. He's never going to win the lottery, but that doesn't stop him. Really, it's great to be optimistic, but there comes a time when you have to get off your ass and make things happen. That's why I'm so pleased about him leaving teaching. He comes from a long line of optimistic whiners, which has turned him into a pessimistic whiner. He is finally, the first of his family, getting off his can and making something happen. I couldn't be prouder. :)

Time to play...

...what shall we name the baby? We're picky about these things. As of right now, a girl might be Moira Lindsay (our son has DH's middle name), and we'll probably call her Molly, and a boy's middle name this time around will be Mackay or some variant thereof. Name selection is tough for us, because we're both so opinionated. I like things that 99% of the time will be pronounced correctly, and spelled correctly by people just hearing the name. That's my only difficulty with Moira right now. I say it, and people say, "What?" and look really confused. After repeating it 9 times, they usually get it, but I'm beginning to wonder if it's worth the effort. Popularity does play a role in our selections. We're okay with our kids having another kid of the same name in the school, but since DH is a teacher, we realize the inconvenience for all involved in having 8 Jadens or Spencers in the same class. Since my background (and to a lesser extent, but still major, DH's) is Scottish, we'd like to stick with Scottish names. Of course, B likes Irish and Welsh names, too. But I have this strange opinion that to mix our nationalities like that will make us look like Pseudo-Intellectual Neo-Celtic Baby Name Bandwagoneers. Of course, no rational person would consider this sort of thing when naming their newest little darling, so I'd like to claim for myself the official title of Baby Name Neurotic. That gonna be okay with everyone? To make our decision just a little bit more fun, we have an Ellis Island travesty of a last name (come on, people, the original wasn't that difficult) which also happens to be a common household noun, and therefore any remotely noun, adjective, or verb-like name (Rose, Harry, Emma--sounds too much like 'I'm a' with our name) is right out. Names are never 100% bully proof, but we'll do our best to make them as much so as possible. So you see, naming a baby is one of those things that takes us for-freaking-ever to do, and if this kid has a name by the time s/he's a year, we'll consider ourselves very fortunate.

TGIF

It's Friday. Yay. We just refinanced. We're paying off a department store credit card today. The payment was due yesterday. B goes into the store in an hour to take care of it. He wanted me to call yesterday, but I had some unexpected company and didn't hear my phone reminder. I left the house with turned-off phone in hand to take stuff to the mortgage company, and left my wallet on my nightstand. The wallet has the card and phone number in it. Needless to say, since I was out the rest of the day, by the time I turned the phone on, and got to playgroup, my wallet was far, far away, which means I didn't call the company to tell them we'd be paying a whole day late. When I worked for the wireless company, I'd get people calling to say they were paying a day late. We didn't give a rat's ass. Nothing was going to happen for one day late. We'd just chalk it up to the mail being slow or something. I mean, there's not even a button to push for 'paying a day late.' However, B is now positive our credit is completely screwed because of me not calling. @@ Ugh. I talked to Bridezilla yesterday. I told her the reason people were being meeeeeeeeean to her on HER DAY was because she was screaming at people she claimed to be friends with, and that none of us deserved to be treated like that regardless of how important HER DAY was to her. She apologized, but I have a sneaking feeling that she has no idea she was being that awful, and simply can't comprehend it. B's going to play Risk with the guys tonight, and N and I will have to do the same thing we've done all day. Nothing. Since N took an evil 10 minute power nap today, I'm going to try to put him down again. He's sitting in his high chair, looking tired and eating cheerios and peaches for lunch. He nursed to sleep, and when I tried to latch him off and take him to the bedroom, he woke up and refused to go back to sleep. I HATE POWER NAPS!!! So now, I'm desperately searching through my phone book to find friends with no kids near me so that I can have something fun to do tonight. Bleagh. I think it'll just be N, me, and frozen pizza tonight.