Ultrasound in T minus 5 hours

And instead of being excited, I’m nervous.  I’m sure it’s just my inner paranoia, or my latent feelings of doubt relating to having turned down all assortment of prenatal testing and knowing that it would be “too late” to do anything if we find out we’re have a Republican or something equally awful (trying desperately to make jokes at my husband’s expense instead of contemplating the myriad of tragic genetic and developmental diseases I may learn about this afternoon). 

It doesn’t help that the small one got it’s mom’s sick sense of humor and decided to not really kick at all this weekend.  Couldn’t you at least wait until you’re born to drive me crazy?  You are so grounded. 

Thanks for the love, folks!

As a relative newbie to bloggerland, it was nice to hear from you.  This nerotic, swollen lump of a lady is now with smile.

And for the haters – hate on!  I am usually one of you so it’s good for me to get a dose of my own medicine. 

Oversharing

Slate.com has a great article on writing about family (I know it’s from early June but I only just found it so good for you for being so on top of this already).  I think I need to re-read Is This Tantrum on the Record – the Ground Rules for Writing about your Kids a few more times before I decide how this may or may not continue post partum.   

A “Time Out” How-To

This one comes from Slate.com, and as I haven’t actually had to punish a child yet, I find myself devouring articles like this.  Family Feuds – How to Make “Timeouts” Less Like Bar Fights was a nice starting point for someone like me who hasn’t thought about one since I was 6 and sitting in the corner. 

Did anyone else have the “the kid isn’t even born yet but let’s talk about punishment methods” conversation?  My husband came from the spare the rod spoil the child school of rearing, and has picked more than his share of switches from the backyard.  He also moved out of his parent’s house at the age of 16, spent a summer on Dead Tour, and “rebelled” to such an extent it seems comical now (especially as he won’t leave the house in anything but a button down shirt these days, and has been known to attempt to play sports in them, albeit unsuccessfully).  For me, spanking was always on the table, but I don’t think I was actually hit more than 5 times total.  And outside of a few rough patches between the ages of 13 and 15, I was pretty much the easiest child to raise ever (okay, so I was mouthy – no shock there, but I always did my homework and never even came close to being arrested unlike some people I may or may not be married to).

All that is to say we both want to use the method we were subjected to (all claims about his parent’s efficacy don’t seem to penetrate), so I am slowly gathering evidence for my argument which I will deploy at a later date (one that probably involves crayon art on a wall).  In the meanwhile, happy reading!

A clarification

So I don’t usually get enough comments to respond, but someone out there in cyberland made a great point, so I thought I’d offer up a clarification.

 Ever since your blog started appearing on Waldo’s Cville blogs aggregator I have been occasionally glancing at your entries. While well enough written, they are uniformly unpleasant to read. Your tone is vain, your knowledge is ankle-deep, and your pretentiousness is apparently the actual main subject. Perhaps articles which don’t solely celebrate you, your appearance, and what people may or may not think about you would be welcome? This is harsh criticism, yes. Doesn’t make it less true.

I completely hear ya.

You’re right.

But the thing is, this is a blog about me being pregnant, so it’s going to continue to be self-involved (and I imagine it will only get bitchier the fatter I get). Which brings up a good point (and maybe this post will become the About This Blog section in the near future)… why the F should you care?

You shouldn’t. But if you find it moderately amusing to read about my floundering about (or, if you happen to know who I am and are reading this to keep tabs on my sanity before being so foolish as to actually contact me lest the hormone monster attack you in all her glory), read on.   If you actually want advice on, well, anything let alone pregnancy, I would definitely go elsewhere.

Why did I start writing this in the first place?  Well, I think being pregnant is a pretty odd, and largely gross experience, and I got sick to death of reading blogs that gush about “the life growing within” and I simply could not relate to the women who were so endlessly jovial about being knocked up.  I’m just too filled with self doubt and enjoy a good bitch session too much to possibly want to be in a chatroom with these folks. 

No, I wanted to hear from the bloated, hormone-addled crazy ladies out there who find it cathartic to complain about the shit storm nature has thrown at us preggos (were leg cramps really necessary?).  So I thought I would capture my own bitter ruminations on what can only be described as a diseased state that ends when you meet your parasite and (hopefully) become completely whipped by it’s utter existence. That’s what I want to read about, but I picked up a book by Dan Savage of Savage Love fame when I wanted to read a “realistic” portrayal of parenthood, so I grant that I may be on my own on this one.  Then again, The Girlfriends Guide to Pregnancy is a best seller, so I might not be all wrong.

That being said, I’m happy to have my blog removed from Waldo’s Cville Blog list, as it really is just all about me, all the time (and not even remotely related to Charlottesville, despite it’s being my beloved little hamlet). Feel free to let your voice be heard on this one. And Waldo, if you’re out there, I completely yield to your opinion of what is and is not blog listing worthy, I will not be offended.

Drinking While Gestating

Okay – this is a touchy one. One that I don’t actually feel the need (or interest, really) to answer. The medical recommendations range from complete abstinence to a glass of wine every once in a while after the first trimester is okay to it’s only okay to indulge during the last trimester to one drink a night won’t hurt anything. No, what I want to talk about, which is equally touchy, is the dance everyone plays around pregnancy and drinking. Here are a few scenarios:

Preggo has a glass of wine: This is probably the scenario you expected me to talk about, so let’s get it out of the way. I am of the humble opinion that it’s preggo’s decision to drink or not drink (although I do allow for her partner to have some input here within reason), so if she wants a drink, let her have a drink. She doesn’t need a lecture about potential harm to the baby or a risk benefit analysis to determine if the pleasure of a glass of wine is worth the potential harm (and subsequent guilt related to said harm) that could come from indulging in a glass of wine.

Equally important (and this is the one most people miss), she doesn’t need a “that’s so great that you feel comfortable drinking” reaffirmation either. She just needs to be treated like someone who is allowed to make the decision regarding whether or not she feels like she can have/wants to have a drink. It’s as simple as that. Sure, if she feels uneasy and you think a little “I drank when I was pregnant” anecdote will help her relax, launch in (you’ve probably already given her countless amounts of other advice she didn’t ask for already, some of which she’ll take to heart, so why stop now). But the whole “I completely approve of what you’re doing” song and dance makes us feel more guilty about the half beer we’re sipping on, as all of a sudden it’s become an act with political and social ramifications and not just a fucking beer every now and again. Do you see where I’m going with this?

Which leads me to:

Preggo turns down a glass of wine: You would think this would be completely uncontroversial, but you would be wrong. Because of the ambiguity about the potential effects of alcohol on a fetus, anecdotal and cultural experiences that don’t adhere to the What to Expect While You’re Expecting “no amount of alcohol is safe” mantra (look at the French, everyone loves to say), and the general opinion that preggos are way too uptight and self righteous to begin with, lots of people (with and without children of their own) love to talk at length about how it’s completely okay to have a drink or two every now and again throughout pregnancy. This means that the preggo who turns down a glass of wine may be faced with the more common “oh, I forgot you were pregnant – would you like a glass of water” response, or the “oh, you know you can have a glass if you want to”/”I drank throughout my entire pregnancy” response. Does everyone see how the later is just as condescending as the “drinking can hurt your unborn child” lecture?

So where am I going with this?

Good question. People will forever continue to say stupid things to each other, and especially to pregnant women, so I’m not trying to start a revolution or anything. I’m just trying to point out that in the same way it is presumptive and rude to quiz a non-pregnant person on why he either orders a beer with dinner or opts for a diet coke, it’s no different when dealing with we preggos. Even though the stakes seem higher, or the opportunity to buck the conservative/puritanical anti-alcohol American culture seems greater, it’s the same damn thing. Of course you are going to keep judging our decisions as bold or prudish, in the same way I judge the fat ass who orders the large sandwich with extra mayo, but even in all my rudeness I still manage to hold my tongue in fatty’s presence. So regardless of what I choose on any given occasion, let me enjoy my half beer or seltzer water in peace.

Dessert for two?

Some bad eating habits I’ve picked up while pregnant:

• In addition to my nightly glass of chocolate milk, which I added during the first trimester as a treat for drinking so much freakin’ milk all day long, I’ve added a daily ice cream sandwich to the evening routine.
• At lunch, when I stop by my husband’s restaurant, I always manage to leave with a chocolate chip cookie in hand. It is usually devoured before I get back to the office.
• Speaking of lunch, I can’t remember the last time I had one that didn’t in some way, shape or form involve cheese.
• If I’m feeling stressed or if I’ve just accomplished something and feel deserving of a reward, I get a vanilla milkshake. Granted, I don’t get the large, but this is still at least 16 oz. of ice cream and whole milk (and in this instance, it’s not even organic milk, unlike my evening chocolate milk and ice cream sandwich – thank you Whole Foods).
• I now keep Horizon mozzarella string cheese in the fridge for a snack at all times. (Whereas I used to not snack at all or pick at raw almonds.) So far I have resisted bringing them to work, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold out.

I think this may be the reason I’ve put on 2 pounds in one week instead of the recommended half pound. I have become a dairy eating machine.

I used to be so good at eating healthy without ever actually dieting (not that I’m trying to lose weight at this point – I’d just prefer this pregnancy have as little excess baggage as possible). I think the ice cream and cookies may need to go. That was so much easier to do back when I could have a beer. Or a bourbon. Mmmmm, bourbon.

NYTimes – What Makes a Good Dad

There’s blog post on the NYTimes website called The Basics of Fatherhood, and while it’s all pretty common sense, I thought it deserved a bookmarking. Enjoy!

P.S.

Day number two of blowing out my hair, and I even wore a dress today (okay, so i skipped the heals and the lip gloss). Take that, frump-monster!

I *heart* prenatal yoga

I love my prenatal yoga class. Okay, what I really love is my prenatal yoga instructor. She is amazing. She is so completely intent on helping everyone in the room, and is endlessly empathetic towards all of us griping about our weird aches and pains. The class is challenging (and this is coming from the girl who did hot yoga for fun 5 days a week), but I never feel like I need to worry about whether or not what I’m doing is safe for the small one. She makes it super easy to turn things up or down depending on how you’re feeling (and she’s fantastically specific about saying things like “if you feel this in the outside of your ankles right now, go up a few inches” to make sure none of us naively push ourselves too far). AND she is so conscious about doing poses that not only keep us in shape and *hopefully* help us with labor, but also postures that relieve the discomfort of having something kicking you under the rib cage, not to mention poses that get babies facing in the right direction once folks turn the 35 week corner. It really is like physical therapy for pregnant ladies. I would go every day if the gym offered it.

Did I mention she’s funny, too?

(I could also gush about my prenatal swim instructor, but I have to skip that this week so I’l sing her praises next week.)

(I wonder if all this instructor love is because it’s so nice to be around someone non-pregnant who is totally sympathetic but not in that “yeah, I survived that” “been there, done that” way current moms sometimes come off. It’s like my mild rage when someone says “you think you’re tired now – wait ‘til the baby gets here.” Yeah, I know. No sleep. Ever. At all. But that doesn’t make right now suck any less, thank you very much for sharing. I know, they mean well, blah blah blah, but it all feels a bit like being in high school when all the adults in your life keep talking about “when you get to college…” if you catch my drift.)