Change is good. And it's coming.

I really wish I could explain to you all just how much I wish I could throw myself back into blogging. I want to do it! I need to do it! I feel my connection weaning and I don't like it one bit. I could comment on your blogs all day long, but I feel that's not fair. This is a two-sided relationship. I can't live my life knowing that I expect more from you than I'm willing to give. We all know how those relationships work out.

I think what I need to start with is a new template. I chose from the Plain and Boring catalog when I initially chose this. I thought I was going for simple but I think I ended up with the equivalent of an unsalted, unbuttered rice cake. There's no motivation to visit this blog. And there's no motivation to write on it.

So, I need a change. That "design your own blog" thing that Two Pretzels blogged about a while back is just the thing I need. I'm going to monkey around with that to see what it's all about and see if I'm smart enough to figure it out. I'm eager to see what's out there for poseurs like me.

For funsies, and because I'm committed to this two-way relationship, let's do this: in the comment section, tell me what you would like my first post on my new blog to be about. I'd like to know what the people want because then I can be sure that you'll come back to visit me. I'll choose one winner and just write about it with no prior announcement as to which one I've chosen. Sound like fun? It does to me!

Lord of the Rings.

Well slap my knee and call me Picabo! It's Olympics time again! (Cue fantastical Olympic song here!)

I am all too thrilled to be on maternity leave during the Olympics. You can bet your wallet that I will be firmly planted in front of the tv watching as much of the coverage as they want to show me. Curling at 4 a.m.? Yes, please! Synchronized skiing at 2 p.m.? Hell yeah!

I've always been a fan of the Olympics. I love the competition. I love cheering for my country. I love hearing athletes' stories via Bob Costas and his heartwrenching journalism. These athletes have trained their entire lives for these moments. Families pick up their whole lives to move half way across the country and eat peanut butter and jelly for dinner just so these kids can be at the ice rink everyday at four in the morning with the hopes of maybe one day making it to the Olympics. There is so much riding on them to succeed. And sometimes it comes down to two minutes of competition. And one small flub and it's all over. Ugh, so emotional! It's intense and I just love it! (So sad about that Georgian luger. Wow. How tragic.)

I know some people have a preference as to which Games they prefer - the winter or the summer. But for me that'd be like choosing my favorite child. Can't be done. I have love for both equally. (Yeah, I know I only got one kid right now, but someday I may have to choose between more than one and at that time I wouldn't be able to do it.)

Opening ceremonies are tonight and the fun won't stop for the next two weeks. Hooray! Lemme know if you want to come hang out and experience them with me. Bring nachos.

P.S. How awesome does Vancouver look? I could live there.

P.P.S. Let's share. Tell me your favorite winter Olympic sport. Mine would have to be ice skating or downhill skiing. I took an ice skating class in college, so I know how difficult it is to do what they're doing. And believe you me, I was of Olympic caliber. And I just love how fast the downhill skiers go, it's flabbergasting.

P.P.S. I hope no one is upset with me for not talking about the real Lord of the Rings. I'm afraid you've come to the wrong Hobbit house if you're looking for conversation on that.

Have they decided whether or not to include a DISLIKE option?

I've spent a decent amount of time looking at Facebook since I've been on maternity leave. It's my way of keeping in touch with people while being couped up in the house - thank you 10 inches of snow and recalled Toyota! And I've come to a conclusion. It's probably not going to be a popular conclusion and there's a good chance that I'm far more angry about it than I should be, but, I do not like it when people have their children's photo as their profile pic*.

DISLIKE!

"Oh, but my kid is so cute and funny! Look at him with food on his face and a funny hat on!" While this may be a true statement, the fact remains THAT AIN'T YOU! It's your kid. He can post that pic on his own page! Why not post a photo of your goofy, drunk uncle dressed in drag at Halloween if you're not going to post a photo of yourself? It's just as funny and equally ambiguous.

Now, I have no problem if you want to post a photo of you with your kid. That's completely acceptable because you are actually in the photo. I'm friends with YOU, so let me see YOU. How else do you expect me to judge how much you've changed over the years?

Trust me, I'll be snooping around your photos plenty to look at the ones of your kids. As well as your vacations and your Holiday celebrations, and I promise to take special note of the ones where your kids are wearing funny hats with food on their faces. I may even leave a comment on how cute I think they are.

But I'm taking the stance that your profile pic should be of you. I may even try to start a "Become a Fan of having your own photo on your profile" page for it.

Please note that I love my kid and I feel that she should be highlighted doing funny things and I fully intend to take photos of her wearing silly things and looking messy, but you will have to be my friend and click on the "Stella" photo album to see them. You gotta do some legwork to see the cuteness! I think this is fair. I don't want to give away the goods for free.

*Also applies to pets. Again, not you.

Four Tuesdays.

Stella J. is one month old today! Huh? How? So far, life with her is there-isn't-a-word-to-describe-it-well-enough. WE.LOVE.HER.

So far her likes include: sleeping, eating and pooping. Her dislikes include: not sleeping, not eating and not pooping and Jay Leno. She's growing and filling out quite well. We go to the pediatrician this week, I'm curious to see how she's changed.

You could set your watch to her, she eats every 3 hours to the minute. It's awesome and works out quite well for me to get things done (i.e. nap).

To commemorate her first month of life, we had a photo shoot. Here are 3 of the 300 that I took:

Look at those CHEEKS!

Get me two pieces of bread and some mustard, I'm going to eat this kid!

This photo = epitomy of cuteness!

LOVE!

And the winners are...

Congratulations to Trophy Life, AthenaBee and Dri for correctly guessing the birth day of my baby! Your copies of the birth video are on their way to your homes. Enjoy!

And a very honorable mention goes out to Tiny for correctly guessing the first name! How you did that I do not know. I'll admit that it freaked me out a little :) It was really hard not to email you and tell you that you were right. Excellent guess!

But, no one goes home a loser in this game. Just take a look at the photo in the previous post, consider that your partying gift. (Is it partying gift or parting gift? I've never known which is correct.)

Thanks for playing, all!

Look what we made!

World: meet Stella Jane...

Born: December 22, 2009 @ 11:05 p.m.

Weight: 6 pounds, 6 ounces

Length: 19 3/4 inches

We named her Stella not necessarily after my great Aunt, but because of her. It was a name that we both liked and it just happens that I had a loved one with the same name. My Aunt Stella always called me "doll" and had an enviable costume jewelry collection. She liked the fancier things in life and had a great laugh. She never married or had any children.

The name Jane is after Mike's Godmother who was also the nurse of the doctor who delivered him and his 3 older siblings. His Mom befriended her after seeing the same doctor all those years. Coincidentally, she never married or had children either. (I hope we're not sealing this sweet little girl's fate.) We think it's pretty cool that we're honoring them both in this way.

We chose this name way back in July, the same weekend that we found out we were having a girl and we've never waivered on it. Not once. It's perfect. She's perfect. I can't believe I kept it secret for so long!

We are completely in love with this little girl. It's makes me cry to think about what an honor it is to be her Mom and what a special gift she has been to us already.

Look at her! Sigh. I think we'll keep her.

If you hate going to the mall at Christmas.

Try Etsy!

For the last two years, Turtle Parade and I have bought each other Christmas gifts via Etsy. We set it up like this: we each search around the Etsy site for things that we like. And we save them to our favorites. Then we tell the other when it's time to go shopping. The other person goes into their account and purchases one (or multiple) of the other's saved favorites.

Of course there is a certain amount of secrecy and trust involved with this. If I were the type that liked to ruin my Christmas, I could easily go into my account and see what has been purchased. But I'm not. I prefer to wait until Christmas Day to open my gifts. Or at least wait until the day that she and I agree to exchange gifts.

It's really quite fun. I like that we are purchasing handmade items. I like that they are unique gifts. I like that I'm not buying her a gift card. I like that I'm not buying her a sweater that she already has 18 of. The best part is is that I know she will like it - she picked it out! But she doesn't know what I've chosen, so there's still an element of surprise involved. It's totally fun.

Perspective.

The following photo is not for those who are easily scared:



Yes, this is my actual belly. Looking upward.

Are you as entertained by this photo as I am? It cracks me up! I can't believe how different of a perspective it is down there.

It's the final countdown.

Hold up both of your hands.

Fingers stretched out.

That's how many days we have left... 10.

TEN!

(theoretically.)

I'm still feeling good. Just large. But not so much in charge.

My calisthenics involve getting out of bed or off the couch. Three or four good grunts and an "ouch" and I'm up! From the main floor of our house you either have to go up or down steps to get to a bathroom, so my calf muscles are in really good shape right about now.

I'd say this poster accurately describes how I'm feeling with 10 fingers left to go: Pick an emotion, any emotion, and I'm feeling it. I've gone through this entire poster of faces over the last couple of weeks.

But, like boyscouts, I think we are prepared. We've got bags packed, Christmas presents wrapped, tree erected, a clean house, a finished nursery, books read, doctor's phone numbers on speed dial, all major baby "stuff" put together, car seat bases installed, basic knowledge of what to expect, video camera, regular camera, underwater camera, everything that will ever touch the baby has been washed, a dog sitter has been lined up, we've notified the authorities, stopped our mail, and told all interested parties that under no circumstances is there to be a wooden stork placed in our front yard.

Let me know if there's something I'm forgetting.

Bring on the baby!

I'm guessing they didn't move on to the parlor for tea and crumpets following this meeting.

Well Lady Gaga, if that is your real name, I would have chosen to wear something a bit less pleathery to meet the Queen of England. And maybe a trowel less blood-red eye make-up too.

You've confused her. You call yourself a Lady? I mean, you're not even wearing gloves for Heaven's sake! Your hands are not folded respectfully like the gentlemen to your left. And she's probably thinking she'll see a semblance of you in her nightmares. Why, you're no Lady at auwl!

No, Queen Elizabeth, I don't think she crashed your party. If she did, she is about a week too late with that trick. People have already been there, done that, got the restraining order. Someone must have wanted to frighten you and really test your manners. I hope the Lady with the blood-red eyes and pouffy sleeves and gloveless hands doesn't haunt you tonight. But if you get a second, listen to her "Poker face" song. It's frustratingly catchy, and it's a real foot tapper.
...
In what universe did the tween meet? I mean really, this photo is quite the juxtaposition.

It's December.

This month changes everything. It is the month that I shall give birth to a baby girl. It is the defining month for us to say that we became parents. Forever. Somehow November 2009 already seems like a lifetime ago. It was the last month of my life I can say that I didn't have a child. And come January we won't know life without her. My mind = blown. Again.

I have decided that even after I'm done being pregnant that I will probably wear a basketball under my shirt to give off the illusion that I am pregnant. People have been so kind and friendly when they see that I've got a burgeoning belly and I hate to give that up. Strangers haven't tried to touch me or tell me inappropriate stories, they just smile at me and have sometimes told me a cute story about themselves - which has been (surprisingly) fun to hear. I've bonded with Moms at Babies R Us and we met a great couple at our birthing classes who we're fairly certain is leading our same life. Their due date is the day before mine, she and I have worn the same shirts to class twice, and we found out that we have the same doctor. I just have a gut feeling that we're destined to know them forever. Like we will end up having our babies at the same time on the same day and they'll either be best friends or end up married or something like that. Wouldn't that be something?

Overall, being pregnant has been a fantastic experience for me. I consider myself very lucky to have made it through these last 37.5 weeks with very little to complain about. In fact, I'd say I've had NOTHING to complain about. I can live with the 4 trips to the bathroom I've been making throughout the night. Part of me is sad that soon it will all be over.

But now we just have to sit and wait (Yeah, right, sit and wait...I've been nesting my butt off. Onesies don't wash themselves!) for this baby to decide when she wants us to meet her. Wow, I can't believe it's her month already!

More deep thoughts.

Every once in a while it really hits me that there is an actual human being in my stomach. Right this very second! IN MY STOMACH*! Like, here's me just walking around getting files from the filing cabinet carrying another person along with me like it's no big deal. "Oh, just excuse me and this person within my belly, we've got business to conduct. I know you can't see her but I can feel her, she's inside me kicking around and LIVING!"

My mind is blown. Thinking about anything else will cease for the rest of the day.



* I know the baby is not technically 'in my stomach'. I have a better grasp on anatomy than that. But my stomach is the area that is protruding the most. I suppose I could say the baby is in my thighs or my behind because they are protruding as well, but that is even less accurate. So, the baby is in my stomach for the sake of this story, mmmkay?

Class #3 Highlights.

You know how these things go, the beginning and the ending are always fun and the middle is usually so-so. That's where we are at this point. But this class was not without its highlights:

• It was tour the hospital night. In this particular hospital, everything is done in one room. So we didn't get to see a big nursery full of newborns, but we were able to see that there is an Arby's right across the street from the hospital. So that was good to know. (I hope I don't get the room with that view. I feel that giving birth by the red glow of the Arby's sign might take away from the moment a bit.)
• While on the tour, the teacher asked if anyone was born in this hospital. Turns out, I was. She asked what month I was born. I told her June. She asked what year I was born. I told her that I didn't see how that was any of her business. (I really did. She laughed and told me that no one has ever given her that response. Hee hee.) They had all of these books dating back to the 1950's or so that had baby's names listed in the year and month they were born... if their parents paid $1 to have their kid's name placed in it. I guess my parents weren't giving the hospital one more dollar because my name wasn't there. So I told the whole class how old I was for nothing. Aaaand, I'm pretty sure I'm the oldest one in the class. Mike said there were audible gasps when I revealed the year I was born. The only other normal couple in the class that we really like told me later that they were sure I was born in the 80's. Ha!
• The couple who got into a fight last week actually showed up this week. And not only that, but a gigantic hickey on the girl's neck showed up as well! I'm guessing that means they made up. And to show what a stand-up guy he is, he wore his best marijuana leaf t-shirt. They're cute.
• I'm pretty sure Mike's favorite parts of the night were all of the lunging that our 65-year-old, 4-foot-nuthin' teacher was doing to demonstrate the best positions for labor. She was slinging her foot up on chairs and lunging in the hallway all night.
• While in the room on the tour, the teacher told us that a lot of people find sitting on the toilet comfortable during labor because it's a good sitting position. But then when you're a certain amount dilated it's time to move elsewhere because you don't want to give birth while on the toilet and have your baby fall in. Ha! Which led many to recall a certain show titled, "I didn't know I was pregnant" in which a woman claimed to have given birth while going to the bathroom. I didn't see the show, but I did see Joel McHale's spoof on it on "The Soup" in which he reminded pregnant women to "check their poop for children", which I found hilarious! Is that show for real? I don't think I can bring myself to watch it.

I think that was about it for this week. Next week we will be discussing what you do when the baby is actually here. This is the info I've been waiting for. I'm pretty sure I knew that labor/contractions would hurt, but I'm not entirely sure how to swaddle a baby or how I go about not breaking her. I'll be taking copious notes.

33 weeks and Class #2

Here's me at 33 weeks. I took this photo because 1) I wanted to document my 33rd week of pregnancy 2) I had just gotten my haircut and wanted to show off the cute way she styled it and 3) I wanted to show off our messy bathroom.

Looks like I better devote my serious Nesting tendencies to the bathroom next.

So, 33 weeks. Feelin' good. It's pretty crazy to be lying on the couch with a t-shirt, sweatshirt and blanket on and notice the blanket move when she kicks! Someone's got some powerful legs/arms/elbows/knees/head/behind in there.

Lately I've been super thirsty. I even drank two glasses of milk this morning - that never happens. And I have the co-worker who brought in donuts to thank for that. See, donuts are a good thing, they promote milk drinking! I see a definite co-marketing campaign there.

The nursery is 98% complete! And is 100% cute! (Aside from the rocker recliner we got from La-Z-boy. Who it turns out, is actually lazy and is completely devoid of customer service skills. Don't get either one of us started on the experience we've had dealing with them. It ain't pretty. I expected better.) But I shall try and take some photos of that. It's probably my favorite room in the house. I just sit in there and stare at things and contemplate how different life will be in 45 days, give or take.

Holy moly.

...
Last night was Childbirth class #2.

There was a lot of talk about contractions. I'm still not convinced that I'll know what a contraction is. (I'm sure there's lots of moms out there chuckling at me right now.) But I have yet to understand how they will feel and I wonder if I've experienced any at this point? The teacher said that everything will get hard, I may have felt that, but with the rock-hard abs I had already, who's to say? (Now I'm chuckling.)

You know what's amazing to me? The irony of the miraculous and beautiful experience of having child coupled with some of the nastiest bodily functions one can produce. I don't like to think of it like that, but we saw some disturbing videos last night and I can't not think about it. I hope that goes away.

Aside from all of that, there was some serious drama with a couple in the class. A couple who, last week, was all schmoopie schmoopie with each other got into a big 'ole fight this week. I didn't hear what went down, but it started when she moved her seat away from his. Then they didn't get up and do the "labor dance" that we were taught. Then she left the room and he didn't follow. After a while, he got up and left and the teacher wondered if she was ok, and that maybe she was in labor in the bathroom. (She's old and sweet.) A few minutes went by and we heard her crying and screaming at this guy in the hallway. Couldn't really make out what she was saying but it didn't sound good. He came back in, got their pillow and blanket, and did not return. Eeks. Wonder if they'll be back next week?

So that was class #2 - contractions, bodily fluids, and drama. Oh, and more chirping birds. Next week we take a field trip through the hospital.

In the news.

This story makes me physically ill.

If I were this animal's attorney, I'm pretty sure I would be working a lot less harder than usual.

Class #1.

Childbirth Class #1 - For the most part this first night was introductory - here's what's going on, here's how your baby is growing, here are signs to watch out for, etc. - but it was fun for me to realize how REAL this all is now. I'm not learning this stuff to take a test, I'm learning it because we will be doing it! Like, soon. Surreal moment for me.

I would guess there were about 20 people there. All with different due dates so it was hard to compare my belly against theirs. The teacher has been doing this for 39 years and has had 5 children, so I guess she's legit. There was a powerpoint presentation and some short videos and handouts and free swag. The usual. The best part of it was probably the massaging. We were taught how to massage while in labor and the teacher expressed how important touch can be to soothe a woman in labor. Awesome. I hope that's true. I hope I'm not like people on tv (tv reference once again) who are screaming at their spouse and saying mean things. That doesn't sound pleasant. I don't want to be unpleasant.

Perhaps the funniest part of the whole night, which my retelling of the story won't be as remotely funny as it was at the time, but I'll share anyway...

We had to wear name tags - these were pre-written name tags, and I'm guessing that they were written by the teacher. Very legibly-written name tags too. So she went around the room and asked each person to say one word that they associate with childbirth. We were sitting in the back row. As she gets to my husband, Mike, she says, "Adam, what's a word you associate with childbirth?" We looked at each other and snickered. What do you mean, Adam? His name tag quite clearly says MIKE, and YOU WROTE IT! But the moment I LOST IT was when she asked the woman seated on the other side of me (also in the back row), Jacquese, to name a word she associates with childbirth. Jacquese! Are you kidding? You could read and pronounce Jacquese, but you mistook Mike for Adam? I couldn't contain myself, I was laughing and crying hysterically and Mike/Adam was laughing which only made me laugh harder. I could not stop. I had to leave the room. And this was in the first 5 minutes. I thought we were going to be asked to leave. But I eventually pulled it together.

Trust me, it was funny.

So you know how every class like this has "That Guy" or "That Girl" who annoyingly asks ridiculous questions? Well, we didn't have one of those. Thankfully. But what we did have, was the resident douchebag. We had this guy: At the beginning when she was asking for word associations, this guy says "pain", and proceeds to tell us how he has a much higher pain tolerance than his wife/girlfriend and how he would be better at childbirth than she will be. Yeah, he said that. I was all, "What am I doing sitting here next to Mike/Adam when I coulda had that guy?" Darn my luck!

It gets worse.

As we moved on to the massage portion of the class, the teacher, who was quite lovely despite her inability to correctly read a name tag, was talking about how important it is for the man to be a good partner and do their best to make the woman feel comfortable and relaxed during childbirth, to which this guy says, "Why, so the woman can turn around and screw us in the end?" It was special. This guy is a prize. I look forward to hearing what other kind things he has to say about the miracle of childbirth and his love for his woman.

But all in all, it was an enjoyable two hours. I appreciate the knowledge drop. And I enjoyed the time with my husband, Adam, learning about our baby.

Chapter 1 - "When a Mommy and Daddy love each other"...

Tonight is our first Childbirth class! It is the first of 5 classes - once a week for the next five weeks. I'm oddly excited about it. I'm interested to see if it's how it's always depicted on tv and the movies, because that's my frame of reference for most things in life. Like, "I wonder if riding in a gondola in Venice is as romantic as they make it look in the movies?" . . . As it turns out, riding in a gondola with your husband could be romantic IF your parents aren't also riding in it with you. The times I've seen it on tv, never has anyone's parents been along for the ride. Oh well, it was a wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime experience nonetheless. And had my parents not been on that gondola, we wouldn't have been either. So it's all a matter of perspective. (Which reminds me, I have yet to post our Italy photos. Oops.)

Anyhoodle, we are supposed to take a pillow and blanket. I'm encouraged by this. Maybe Mike will have to do all the work and they want all the exhausted Moms to find a nice cot and take a nap for two hours? How relaxing! Oh but then they want me (us?) to wear athletic clothing as there is some sort of exercise element to this, so maybe not. Hopefully they mean exercise in the form of walking, because at this point, any sort of bending, stretching, or lifting of any body part is pretty much a no-go.

I'm also interested to see the other parents-to-be. What will they be like? Will they be younger than us? Older than us? Will the ladies tummies be bigger than mine? Smaller than mine? Will we even talk to anyone else in the class? To their faces, I mean. What's the teacher's story? Will she be old? Young? Will she have kids? If not, why should I listen to her? Will they make us watch that horrendous video that we saw in Health class in junior high? (That poor woman didn't even realize that her vagina was going to be exposed to thousands of 12 and 13-year-olds in an attempt to frighten them into staying away from sex. I hoping that they told her that afterward so she could at least have a pleasant experience at the time.) Is the information they're going to give me common sense information that I should already know or will I need to take copious notes? Is this class going to make me feel good about my ability to parent or will I freak out and realize that I have no idea what I've gotten myself in to? Will there be a snack?

All these questions and so many more are swirling around my brain. Can't wait to find out the answers!

Let's play a game. I like games.

I very much enjoy guessing games. My Mom and I like to guess the exact time we will get home after one of our far-away shopping trips. And when I was younger, my Dad and I would always watch the lottery drawing and try to guess the numbers before they popped up. Good wholesome fun for the whole family.

So in keeping with that family tradition, I'd like to play the "What date will my baby be born, at what time and how much will she weigh?" game. Feel free to guess a name too if you'd like. My due date is December 20, so you can use that as your jumping off point.

The winner will be determined by the person who guesses the date correctly and is closest on the time. Weight is a little too hard to guess correctly, I don't want anyone to be turned off by this complicated process. You can still guess how much you think she will weigh, it just won't be factored into the final judging.

As an incentive, the winner will receive a copy of the video of my birthing experience. This is a family game after all. And you did spend some time thinking about this, so allowing you to share in the experience is the least we can do.

To keep it fair, I will take myself out of the running. With all of my number guessing experience, I have an unfair advantage. Plus I probably know my uterus better than any of you.

So, your guesses please.

730 days.

Hey Mike,

Remember that one time we got married?

Me too. It was the greatest day of my life.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!

Love Always, Me

I knew this day would come.

Despite the fact that I am smiling in this photo, my heart was breaking at this moment.

It is quite possibly the last time I will sit in my super cute VW Jetta. (If the guy who might be buying it isn't a total idiot, that is.) I had this car for 8 years, 8 wonderful years. I bought it new in 2002 and it just fit me. I have a lot of pride in the fact that I bought it and paid it off like a responsible adult. And continued to love it even after the newness wore off.

In 8 years I only put 71,104 miles on it. That makes me laugh. Living across the street from work is so ridiculous, I hope I'm appreciating my commute as much as I should.

She was only in one accident and it was a lame one. I was rear ended by some punk kid who had a spiked license plate holder on his truck, so there were 12 holes poked into my bumper in a perfect rectangle. I still shake my head at that one.

I know it's silly to be attached to a car, but I'm a sentimental gal. And I'm not sorry for that. But, it's time to move on and let someone else enjoy her. I will be getting a more family-friendly car, which is cool, I just love new car smell. But I shall miss her and will think of her often.

So, what do we think of Jetta for a middle name for a daughter?... I'm thinking I like it. We'll name her after our dog and my car - Nora Jetta. Then she will move to Hollywood and end up marrying a guy named Sparrow and all will be right with the world.

UPDATE: Dude isn't buying my car. It's official, he's an idiot. But that does mean that my car and I will be reunited!