Monday, June 30, 2008

A Pictureful post

This weekend was awesome.  Well, it was hot.  Seattle went from record cold weather to a midwestern summer in no time at all.  The summer solstice came around and Seattle woke up and said "What?  Oh crap!  It's summer and I slept through spring" and then turned the thermostat all the way up.  And also?  This is Seattle.  We don't HAVE air conditioning because we don't NEED it ever.  Sigh.  

Anyway, that's not why this weekend was awesome.  This is:

Week 36! Hiking is good for you.

The Bubba and I took advantage of the sun and drove up to Deception Pass State Park where we gleefully (albeit slowly) hiked around Bowman Bay and Whidby Island.  We've lived here for more than three years, and we waited until it cost $8 ba-zillion to fill up our gas tank to drive the hour plus to the park.  Ah well.  It was on my list of things I wanted to do before baby comes: go for a nice hike just the two of us.

My Bubba taking a break to be pensive.

The weather was perfect - the trails were mostly in the shady forest surrounding the bays and the Sound so it was nice and cool and breezy.

Little island in Rosario Strait, the Olympics way in the back

I put my feet in the ice-cold water off of Whidby Island.  We collected interesting rocks.  We talked about future family vacations.  We held hands.

The water was freezing!

We stopped for huge burgers and fries on the way home after which I slept in the car.  Saturday was a truly excellent day. 

Sunday, now that's a different story!  I could barely move from the soreness!  I would have done it all over again in an instant, though.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Underwater adventures

My friend is going snorkeling and scuba diving in Hawaii this coming week.  I'm insanely jealous.  But it reminds me of a good story:   Once upon a time....

I boarded the little boat with three Americans and two Senegalese guides.  I had found a wet suit that fit and some flippers and goggles, and my tummy was a little bit nervous.  We were going scuba diving off the Ile de Goree.  I had never been scuba diving, and I was super excited to see what everything looked like in the Atlantic ocean off the sheer underwater cliffs of Goree.

The guides briefed us as we motered out to our dive site, which happened to be one of the slave ships that sunk during the Triangle Trading years.  I had been in Dakar for a month or so, and my Wolof was passable, as long as you stuck to conversation revolving around where Mel's friend Tapha was going, or how the people of my house were doing today, or whether I liked the blue or white dress better.  Needless to say, my scuba vocabulary was a little lacking.  Of course, I would never admit that to the other Americans on the boat, and I could tell from their faces that they were going through the same thought process that I was:  What the (bleep) am I gonna do?

So I took my life into my hands in order to save a little face.  How proud my parents would have been...

I got the gist of it at least, if not the specifics.  Each of us would go down in turn, each with a guide.  That didn't sound so bad!  Totally doable.  We would go down a couple of feet in the water just to get used to the breathing apparatus and the water, etc., we would come back up, and then go down to swim around the shipwreck.  The first in line was a guy named Andrew.  He went the couple feet under, and promptly hyperventilated.  He climbed back into the boat and the guides exchanged glances.  Next was a woman named Stephanie.  She adjusted her goggles and slipped under the water, only to come back into the boat to breathe in a bag next to Andrew.

At this point, I was both terrified and absolutely resolved that I was not going to waste the money I spent on this tour.  I climbed slowly down the ladder and the guide floating in the water said something to me in Wolof, and motioned to my mask.  I put the mask down and he helped me put the mouthpiece in correctly.  Then he tugged my hand, and we sunk under the surface of the water and I looked up at the bottom of the boat.  My heart was absolutely racing but I convinced my lungs to keep breathing slowly.  After a minute, my adrenaline pumping, we surfaced again and I told him the little lie that I was ok to go down.

Still consciously convincing myself to breathe at a normal pace, we swum down where the water got darker.  The ship had been wrecked for long enough that it was now a field of grassy seaweed and rocky urchins and pokey anemones.  There were colorful fish busily rushing about every corner and cranny.  There was a starfish lazily waving one of its arms.  I had stepped out of my life and into the Discovery channel.  I was so mesmerized that I forgot to breathe, and was tempted to surface for air.  I made myself take a terrified breath in (fully thinking it might be my watery last) and clung desperately to my guide's hand for comfort.

I regained a little bit of control over my breathing, and we swam around and I was just in awe of this other world that happens to share mine.  Then I turned and found myself face to teeth with a huge barracuda.  And right then, I was done.  I started panicking and hyperventilating and I tugged my guides hand and gestured wildly for him to take me back to the boat.  Because seriously.  Have you seen a barracuda?  It has teeth.  And it's huge.  I didn't want to get eaten - I had taken enough risk just breathing.

And (bien sur!) after the mad dash to the surface, I climbed very slowly and smugly back onto the boat carefully controlling my breathing and gushing about how awesome it was.  The moral of the story?  I totally kicked scuba diving's butt.  And also, I am too competitive.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Me and My LLC

I've been really busy with work this week.  That hasn't happened for ... hmm ... a year almost? Setting up this business is slow going.  Which is a real blessing, because it does have the potential to get overwhelming if we go too fast.  The website is up and running, the database is still being worked on (I don't want to talk about it - the clown is still involved), and we are starting to get our information out there to potential clients!

It's good, but terrifying at the same time.  I am so excited when I send an email to a company saying "work with me, I'm awesome!" and then I get scared because what if they don't want to work with me.  Or worse - what if they DO?  Then what?

So far, I am in contact with a couple of people who might want to work with us in different capacities, and I know where I want to go with them, I mean I know where I want them to take me and vice versa, but I'm having a hard time seeing the trees for the forest.  I have to remind myself to be patient and just answer this question and then move on to the next.

This business thing?  I'm learning a whole lot about what I need to do to make this work, but I think even more, I'm learning so much about myself and how *I* work.  I had no idea I was so anal about EVERYTHING or that I would feel completely inadequate and lay awake nights if I didn't have a thoughtfully worded response to every question that comes up.  The perfectionism!!  The insecurity!!

Some of this might be pregnancy hormones and the "taking everything personally" part entirety of my brain.  I'd like to think that in a couple months when I'm back at this after the baby that I'll be able to be a little more laid back and trust that people are people and stop being scared of their reactions to me.

I'm so excited about this company and its potential.  I'm thrilled with the prospects of its future and my role in it.  I just have to get through the setting-up and how-do-you-do stages.  The ambiguity might kill me.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Internet fun

So, I thought I'd let you in on a couple examples of my random screwing around on the internet when I'm tired of looking at my work spreadsheets:

Following in Kate P's footsteps, I too am a wonderful 1930's wife.  

87

As a 1930s wife, I am
Very Superior

Take the test!


87 out of 100.  That's a lot.  What with the supporting of the husband and the cooking of food and the hosting of friends.  Not quite sure how I feel about that.

Last night Bubba and I were vegging out and watching a rerun of NCIS and Abby (the lab girl on the show) was playing with a computer program morphing two photos into one.  So, of course I scoured the internet and found www.morphthing.com and morphed our faces.  I was laughing so hard, tears were rolling down my cheeks.  The morphed photo looked not unlike a primate with my eyes and nose and cheeks, and with Bubba's ears, eyebrows, chin, and hair.  

I strongly suggest doing this with your significant other.  I would post our morphed photos here, but I just can't bring myself to be humble enough to share it with you.  Someday if you come over to my house and visit I might show you and we can have a good laugh.

Taking it easyish

So guess what I did?

I decided to twist my fat ankle the other day at the park.  Awesome, non?  It's kind of surprising how easily something like this can happen with an extra 30-some (ok, close to 40) pounds hanging around.

As a result, yesterday I did a whole bunch of nothing.  I went from the chair to the kitchen to the bathroom basically all day.  When I walked, I limped, and that in turn hurt my back.  Yeah, it was pretty great.  And by great I mean miserable.  I don't know how people deal with bed rest orders because I was NUTS by the end of the day when Bubba came home.  Not to mention that I felt worthless because I didn't so much as do the dishes.  

But I did get this done:


And I watched a lot of bad TV.  And I read about Hypnobirthing.  And I got some research done for my business.  So I guess it wasn't a TOTAL loss.  It just felt like it.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Baby edu-ma-cation weekend

My weekend was packed.  Some of it was even entertaining/informational/interesting.

Saturday we had our all day torture event childbirth preparation class through the hospital. Our instructor was the saving grace of the class. She was awesome.  Very passionate about the subject material, and for eight hours she was talking and teaching and it didn't get boring. That's the kind of teacher I never felt like I was.

The un-Christian side of me really wants to point out all the socially retarded couples that are currently having babies at the same time we are.  There are quite a few as it turns out.  I guess any time you get a random group of people together there's bound to be a couple.  But, wow. 

Toward the end of the class we were talking about birth plans (which I'm not a huge fan of as I've already discussed) and I mentioned that I not really pro-narcotics.  The (socially retarded) dude next to me said in a very patronizing voice "Um, childbirth can get pretty...painful."  Like I didn't know.  Thanks. Comebacks I've thought of since because I was so mad about it:  "Thanks, asshole." "And how many children have you personally birthed?"  Of course he didn't wait to hear that I'm not anti-epidural or other pain interventions.  Boo to him (and I feel sorry for his wife).

To round out our weekend, we had a breast feeding class yesterday.  I told my sister (you know the one with seven kids) that we had this class and she scoffed and laughed and said "how can you learn that without having a baby?"  (She also told me it was easy and that I wouldn't have a problem traveling to Wisconsin for a wedding 4-5 weeks after baby's born.  So all that proves to me is that she's a) masochistic, or b) she doesn't even remember or c) maybe that's how she felt with her 7th, but her first was so freaking long ago, she has blocked those memories.)  The class was interesting and I feel more confident in my knowledge.  So there.  

There were a couple times, though, that the lactation specialist on the video we had to watch sounded so much like this lady on public television that has an Italian cooking show that Bubba and I would watch on Sunday mornings while we got ready for church.  It made us immaturely crack up in the back of the class.  At the end of cooking a dish, this TV personality says, "And now I will taste it for you...  Mmmmm.  Delicious" in her thick Italian accent.  I whispered that to Bubba after the lactation educator on the video was praising the mom's use of letdown stroking and admiring the drop of milk hanging off her nipple. We almost died trying not to laugh out loud.  I don't think the instructor liked us too much.

The combination of the childbirth seminar and the breast feeding class acted like a pep-rally in combination.  LET'S GO!  Have that baby!  And apart from my nesting list, I'm am good to go. Bubba wants us to start packing a hospital bag and making a music playlist.  39 days.  That's nothing!

Friday, June 20, 2008

A list

So to round out my week of writing about almost nothing but me and my pregnant self this week (really, is there anything else worthy of note going on?), I will post a list.

Things I have recently found that I am too pregnant to do:
  • Climb on the swively office chair to reach the top shelf
  • Ride my road bike
  • Pick up hot dudes
  • Wear high heels
  • Not take everything personally
  • Weed whack
  • Eat an entire meal at one sitting
  • Mop the floor on hands and knees
  • Be energetic
  • Lift heavy things out of a Target shopping cart (those things are deep!)
Recognizing one's limitations is half the battle, right? Now that I know I can't do these things, I'm so much better at meting out chores and putting people in their place.  And I thought this would be hard...

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Beginning of the end...

It started with a dream that I was laboring to deliver some animal - a calf? - and then I became vaguely aware of the soft light in my own bedroom from the streetlight outside and the sound of my fan.  At first I wondered why I woke up.  I got up thinking I must have had to pee, so I made my way with one eye open to the bathroom.  By then I realized that it was a weird feeling that woke me up.

It felt like a really bad menstrual cramp with backache, and a heat flash rose from my belly to my neck and face.  I figured Braxton-Hicks had finally decided to exercise its control of my uterus.  Except it hurt!  Whenever I read about or heard about these little practice contractions, they are described as "uncomfortable".  Oy.  This was pretty painful and I thought "there's no way I'm getting through tougher than this without some kind of medication to help!"

And then the fear set in.  Ohmygoodness, I only have 5 more weeks (give or take).  There's so much more I want to get done!  We haven't even visited the hospital yet!  Or taken classes!  I haven't finished my labor books.  I need to get more squared away with my business!  My HOUSE IS DIRTY!!

And then I went back to sleep and woke up this morning more or less oblivious to the angst of the mid-night crisis.  The only evidence now is a list of things to do.  A very random list written at 3am covering things I want to get done in the next 5 weeks (give or take).
  • Finish reading baby books
  • Clean the house
  • Buy a Moby
  • Narrow down the name list
  • Go to the movies one more time
  • Weed whack the yard
  • Organize the pantry
  • Mop the kitchen floor
  • Organize kitchen cabinets
  • Wash the walls
  • Clean the blinds
Wash the walls?  Seriously?  Who am I?  So, I'd love to hang out, but it seems that I have a panic list to accomplish.  Is this what they call nesting?

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

When I'm Single Again

I have already warned the Bubba that as soon as I am no longer plural, I am going to splurge. Well, after I loose some of this excess weight that I've been accumulating along with baby.  I am going to buy a brand new pair of awesome jeans that look great on my ass.  I don't care if they cost $200.  They will be mine.  And a cute dress that I can wear every day.  Something light and feminine that makes me feel cute.

Maternity clothes just aren't made to make you look good.  Or maybe they are, except by the time you're seven and a half months pregnant there just isn't really anything in the world that's going to make you FEEL like you look good.

And here I am.  I am sick of all the clothes that fit me (four shirts, one pair of jeans, one pair of khakis, one pair of shorts, two hideous dresses), and I just want to feel cute again!

Last night I went to see Sex and the City with some girlfriends.  I had my outfit planned out in my mind.  In any other circumstance, I would have worn my skin-tight jeans, silk tank, stilettos, huge earrings, and more than average makeup.  Come on, it's Sex and the City.  It requires some extent of glamour. The best I could do is a huge cotton tunic and some leggings.  Sigh.

You know, I think nature works just right.  Because by this time, I'm so sick of being pregnant that I'm begging for just about anything else.  I get to be RELIEVED when it's time for delivery and dealing with a newborn.  Bring it! 

As long as I can fit in some soft yummy buttery jeans.  

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Dr. Not-so-Right-but-OK-For-Now

I'm not sure that my current doctor will be OB to baby Theiss number two.  I'm not overly impressed.  She came very highly recommended, and really, I feel quite comfortable with her. And I LOVE that her newest baby is only 5-6 months old, so everything I'm going through is all fresh in her memory too.

There are some drawbacks, though.  Her nurse isn't my favorite person in the world.  She's kind of ... um... unprofessional.  She's really good a rolling her eyes when the office is busy and I've heard her and another nurse bitching about whatever right outside my exam room door.  Not exactly what I'd expect walking into a doctor's office.  Also?  The last three times I've gone, it has been nearly an hour before I've seen my doctor and then it seems that she wasn't prepared to see me, and asked many of the same questions she's already asked in the last few weeks.  

The wait I guess I can deal with, and others have told me that seems to be standard.  It's not like I have an office job where my boss is timing my lunch hour, but it's a drag when my Bubba feels like coming and it's impossible because he can't sit around for 2 hours twiddling his thumbs.  When I (finally) get to see the doctor, it's like we have to go through a lot of information for a second or third time.  Did you take the childbirth classes?  Did you decide if you're going to donate the cord blood? etc.  But last time it was as bad as "Did you have that ultrasound I ordered?  What did they say?" because she didn't even have a copy of the stupid results sheet from the ultrasound people.  She seems to be more interested in the novel I'm reading (or finishing while I wait) than how the baby's doing.

Sigh.  She's knowledgeable (even if she is an over-informer).  She's nice.  She's young and fresh. But I am starting to feel a little more like a number on her chart than someone she cares about delivering.  I think I'd be better with someone more laid back because I tend to freak out and obsess about what the doctor says and how she says it.

Next time, I'll also look for someone who's not so popular.  I'm a small clutch of best friends kind of girl, not a larger group of good friends kind.  I'm a glutton for attention.

In funner news, the prints that I ordered for Tad's room came!!

Bubba hung them for me this weekend, and I just LOVE them!  The first one is "Barbar en avion" and the other is "Barbar et ses Ballons."  So cute and colorful and fun.  Love them.

Monday, June 16, 2008

Father's Day


Daddies and daughters have something special.  Well, so do daughters and moms - I mean, we have the potential to be real friends and truly understand each other.  The relationship with daddies, I don't know, it's all about just letting each other be and enjoying each other.

Baby Tad is a pretty lucky person to be born to my Bubba.  To be able to look up to him as a father and know him and appreciate him in a completely different way than everyone else. Bubba is really excited to meet this little person that puts on a rendition from Alien for him every evening.  It makes me happy.

My own dad passed away on July 9, 2000.    He was awesome.  I know that most people will say that about someone who passed away, but he was.  He was a bachelor until almost 30 when he met my mom, and yet he was the kind of guy who would go to the Salvation Army, buy broken toys, fix them and give them back.  When my mom met him, he was working on fixing the axle of a broken wagon and had bought some bright red paint to repaint it.

He was always like that.  He served God tirelessly in a hundred different ways every day.  He took the mantra "Leave the world a better place than you found it" very seriously.  I wanted to learn about engines and machines and I almost majored in math in college just to have something more in common with him.  Then my senior year of college he got sick.  He had a malignant giloma (the same primary brain tumor that Ted Kennedy is fighting right now) and he passed away 11 months later.

There was a long long time that I was mad at God for taking him because I had so much more to learn from him.  But then, I realized I've already learned so much about loving and being loved, that there wasn't much more to learn about life!  I just needed to put it to practice like he did.  

I still think about the unfairness that he'll never meet my amazing Bubba or enjoy Baby Tad like I know he would, or he'll never see me as a grown-up business woman.  But as he said, "I will never love you more.  You could make me more proud of you because of your accomplishments, but you could never make me love you any more than I do right now."  

That's the kind of love I want to show our daughter.  I want my baby to feel that love from her daddy too.  And I know she will.

Friday, June 13, 2008

To prove my point

Bubba and I walked to the PCC to get some bread to go with dinner, and we passed a construction site.  He excitedly pointed out the shear studs to me and what number rebar they were using.  I told him he's a Shear Stud.

Work-a-day

In 2005, Bubba took this job.  He is a structural engineer, which basically means that he makes sure buildings are designed to stand up.  He loves his job.  I have never known anyone else (except for maybe my dad) who loves his job more.

At first, I hated his job.  Mostly because it is in Seattle, and I wanted to be closer to family in the midwest.  Because I had to move out here and put starting my career on hold in order to be a supportive wife.  At that time, I had no idea what being a supportive wife meant.  He would come home in the evenings (after I had a depressing day of applying for jobs and collecting rejection letters) gushing with excitement about the lode-bearing concrete columns he designed to hold up the garden on top of the parking garage.  And I was bitter.

Somehow Bubba and I found the grace of God to help each other through that tough transition and that first year of marriage.

All of the newer engineers at this firm are all around our age, our same life stage, getting married, having first or second children.  We have become very good friends with a number of these and have made a little community for ourselves.  Four years ago, I wouldn't have believed that I could count among my close friends the wives of Bubba's colleagues.  That just sounds so '50s housewife.  And yet, here I am...

Yesterday, I visited with a friend whose husband also works with Bubba.  And today I had lunch with another dear friend who is the wife of another of his colleagues.  These are girls that I can ask to come and do my laundry when the baby comes, or take me out when I've had too much at-home time.  And I realized yet again just how lucky we are, and how blessed Bubba is to have found such a good niche. Not only for himself, but for us and our family.  



Thursday, June 12, 2008

Sun day

Hey, do you know what this is?
It's a photo of my 33-week pregnant frame caricatured by the sun on my lawn.  Yep, you read that right.  SUN.  Here.  Shining.  On ME.  In my yard (the lawn could do with a little TLC...).


I've been outside in my garden, humming to myself, pulling weeds, playing with my friend's one year old.  I am a completely different cheerful, loving person than I was yesterday and all the other gray days.

No time to write more.  I've got to soak this up while it lasts!

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Not an Exotic Pet Person

I walked Greenlake this morning.  Getting out in the day and exercising is supposed to help with the mood, right?  I'm having a really rough time not seeing any sun.  It might as well be March for crying out loud!  My heat is still on.  I just hope that when the summer does indeed decide to grace us with its presence that it has the good sense to stick around well into normal autumn time.  Butthole.

In my car stopped at the red light by Greenlake, I happened to look over at the car next to me. (Since Maggie's looking for a new car, she's got me completely obsessed with what people around me are driving.  I wish we could afford a new car at this point - a two door with a baby seat is going to suck, I imagine.  Ah well.  That will have to wait... ) 

ANYHOO, I looked over at this car next to me, (it was a van actually) and the lady driving was idly petting a goat.  Goat.  That was sitting in the front seat.  Do people in the city of Seattle actually own goats?  So that made me look at the city codes for pet laws, and who knew? Potbellied pigs and goats are totally acceptable pets if they're licensed and not bigger than whatever maximum size.  This is the same license one would have to get for a dog or cat.  But you can't have chickens in single family zones.  I don't know about ladies with goats in the front seat of their vans.  That's just kinda kooky.

I've never had the urge to own a pig or a goat and keep it as a pet.  It reminds me of the crazy lady that kept a horse as a pet in her house and it slept in the bathtub.  Of course I can't find a link to it anywhere anymore.  But I heard about it on NPR, so it must be true.  I think that was a good two years ago, and she was required to find some new digs for the poor thing after it ripped up her living room.  How did she not see that coming?

Sometimes animals weren't meant to be pets.  What did that horse's life look like?  How miserable to never run on his own.  I don't know too much about the merits of goats or pigs as pets, but I would imagine that the same would hold true.  About.com tells me that both pigs and goats are pretty needy.  Child and husband.  Don't need a pet like that.  These animals were meant to be outside doing outside animal-y things.  In my opinion, sometimes animals were just meant to be animals and not people.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Premonitions

I'm not one of those people that swallows supernatural things without a grain of salt.  Not that I don't think God doesn't work in mysterious ways - I definitely do.  It's just that a lot of times with ghosts or other silly, weird, unexplainable things, I think people see what they want to see, and I guess I'm too practical to make the leap in logic to mystical.  Sometimes I'm surprised.

I went to CostCo today to pick up some odds and ends and while I was comparing the sugar content in some instant oatmeal brands, a tiny Asian lady rolled her cart up to me and said "8 month?" pointing at my belly.  I kind of laughed and said "Yeah, seven and a half."  She gestured in a rubbing motion and lifted her eyebrows looking from my belly to my eyes evidently asking if she could touch me.  I thought it was a little weird, but I put the oatmeal down and stuck my bump her way.  She touched it with her right hand and said "ah!  a girl!  She have a smile like you!"  And then she patted my arm and walked away.

I stood there thinking "what the hell just happened?" because to be perfectly honest it kind of shook me and gave me goose bumps.

Monday, June 9, 2008

Humble Pie, or Cupcake

Saturday we went to a cycling race in Ballard.  They blocked off a half-mile loop around the cutie "downtown" area and the cyclists rode in loops over and over.  They went from women's categories to low to high mens categories, and we saw men's category 2-3 and the beginning of the Cat. 1 race before I was just absolutely done standing in the Seattle sprinkle.  

This may sound like not-so-much-fun.  On the contrary, I enjoyed it quite a bit.  I was surprised at the formation changes in the cyclists basically every loop.  And we spectated at a sharp corner so we were constantly on the lookout for wipeouts.  That made things a little more interesting.  

Also interesting?  I've never seen such a concentration of handsome men in Seattle before.  Not just the cyclists (I'm not a huge fan of shaved legs and spandex on men...) but the spectators! Their friends!  And all different kinds of handsome.  You know, there was the clean-cut dark denim wearing guy with a nice camera, and the shaved-head-angular looking man in REI gear, there was knit beanie guy with worn out shoes and two-day scruff.  A veritable smorgasbord of good-looking dudes!  I am now spreading the word that all of my single girlfriends should spend as much time as possible getting into the bike racing scene.

But that's not the point of today's post.

Before standing in the drizzle, I had to fortify myself with some consumables from Cupcake Royale.  (Really, this might have been the only reason I agreed to go to the race...)  At the shop, there was a huge dog with dreads tied to the propped open door.  I tried to find some sort of image to help my story along...

He was kind of like this, except dirty and we couldn't really tell if the dreads were intentional. And for sure not one of those Puli dogs on which the dreads are natural, you know?  It was kind of dirty-scary looking and not so cute.  At all really.  So this photo isn't a good image at all to put in your head...  Ah well, it's the best I could do.

So, he was tied to the open door and stood in the doorway with his nose working overtime smelling all the sugary sweetness, and people had to either shoo him out of the way or open the other door in order to get around him and into the establishment.  Now, I understand that some people see their dogs as their babies, but sometimes they're just animals, and in peoples' way, I don't think they should be.

We sat at a table not far from the door, and every time someone came to the door, we watched them try to finagle a way around this huge not-nice looking dog to get in.  After a while, we commented on how inconsiderate it is to tie your dog to a place like that.  And a child would go up to pet the creature and I would cringe at the dirty factor and say "Oooh, don't touch the dirty mangy dog!  Don't do it!" in a low voice.  Our friends with a comparably big dog mentioned that they would never tie a dog there because of the possibility of someone in the shop or wanting to enter being afraid of dogs, and what in the world made the owner think that this was ok? Really, there were lots of not so nice comments about this ugly dog being a general nuisance and in everyone's way.

Then the lady next to us got up, threw away her trash, untied the dog and they walked away.

We all kind of looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then I thought "why the heck did it take her so long?"  But, I think my sensitive Bubba died a little inside.

Friday, June 6, 2008

All Good Things

Today has been a pretty happy Friday so far.  I know.  Get out your calendars, circle the date, Lizzie's NOT complaining for once in her life!  It turns out that there's quite a bit to be thankful for (fancy that!).

Firstly, the pregnancy massage yesterday?  Oh. Mah. Gah.  It was awesome.  I've had one massage before ever, and this wasn't even in the same universe.  I walked out of there feeling a little less like a crippled pregnant lady and a little more like a gazelle.  I also wish my Bubba could have been in the room to learn whatever it was she was doing with my hip area.  I would have one once a week if it were in my budget.  Delicious.

Secondly, I am not (get that? Not.) having a 10 pound baby.  Whew!  We had an ultrasound this morning to celebrate the end of our 32nd week and to make sure this baby isn't hugormous. She's not!  She's perfect.  Well, she's above average - the doctor estimated her size at 4lbs 8oz - and that to me is heavenly.  All her parts work well, her heartbeat was 143, we got to see her legs working out some kicks.  It's amazing all the things we can see with ultrasound.

We didn't get any cool ultrasound photographs, though, because she is so big now and I didn't really want a print off of the dark spot that is her kidneys or the little line that is her cerebral cortex.  I'd rather have gotten a face shot, but of course she decided to turn to face my back just as soon as the tech was making her way to the face.  Figures.  Bubba thinks that she's already spiting me - she wouldn't show us her face in the other ultrasounds either.  Sigh.  Oh well.

Also?  There was a bit of worry last ultrasound about a uterine cyst.  It's gone now - no sign of it.  YAY!

Thirdly, I finished this sweater

for Manda's Little Buddy.  It turned out so cute, I think I have to make one for Tad now too.

Fourthly, I have a wonderful husband who is loving and supportive and kind and good to me and I am madly in love with him.

I am going to celebrate all of these things by calling my mother, taking a nap, and ordering pizza for dinner.  In that order.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Chronicles of sleep

I've always been a good sleeper. My roommates in college called me  a "sleep whore" because I just couldn't get enough. I've always needed at least 8 hours of sleep each night, and most nights more like 9 hours or I just can't function.  When I had to get up early for work, I would go to bed at 9:30.  I'm not sure why my body is that way, but there you go.  

In December when I first found out I'm pregnant, I was exhausted.  There were a few times when I would sit down on the edge of my bed to put my shoes on and wake up slumped over with a crick in my neck two hours later wondering where the hell I was and what was going on and who slipped me the roofie.  Some nights I'd sleep from 9 pm to 10 am.  Seriously.  

No longer!  The flip has been switched, or vice versa, and I'm not sleeping anymore.  

Now.  Now, I am again exhausted all day long, I go to bed at 9 pm, I'm up at 12 and then at 1:30 and then Baby Tad decides to do her calisthenics at 3 for half an hour, then I have to pee at 4:30 and then I wake up with the Bubba at 6.  Not only are there wake-ups, but the falling back asleep is a nearly impossible task.  I never knew I was capable of lying perfectly still with my eyes closed absolutely exhausted for 30 minutes and NOT sleep.  

I have never had trouble sleeping before, and (obv.) have never experienced insomnia.  I don't like it one little bit.

I go through my days in a fog like a CRABBER on auto pilot.  I feel like I never talk to my husband anymore because by the time he's home and dinner is made, I'm too tired to put words together for a coherent sentence (which, I should point out, Bubba is perfectly content with being such an introvert!).  I keep having to remind myself "Gam zeh ya'avor."

And to add to the crab, it's not even 50 degrees this morning and I had to turn the heat on for Pete's sake!  It's FREEZING.  Boo to you, June in Washington.

On an amazingly positive note, I figured I need a pick-me-up and I scheduled the massage Bubba gave me for my birthday for this afternoon!  So somewhere I'm going to find the energy (inshallah) to make the bed and clean up the kitchen and maybe even vacuum so that when I come home from Habitude, I'll have nothing to do but sit all relaxed and pampered in my nice tidy house.

So I'll have that going for me.  If I can't sleep maybe I can try to enjoy being awake.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Why I *heart* Craig's List

Sunday night we found a changing table on Craig's List from some sucker lovely woman who decided she's done with changing diapers:

It's in perfect condition and we only shelled out $50.  AND it matches the beautiful dresser that my mom and sister bought us:

So, with our borrowed crib, some prints that I ordered that are on the way to cover up some of that green wall, our nursery is basically done!

It's the nicest (read cleanest) room in our house right now and I've been spending some time in there just sitting and looking around.  I still find it hard to believe that there'll be a baby living in there soon...

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Working It (out)

I went to my gym yesterday.  Not to work out, of course.  To see if I can suspend my membership for a few months.  Just until little person inside of me is on the outside of me and I'm in good enough condition to work out again.  But because I went on June 2nd, of course I couldn't retro-cancel for June (even though the "month doesn't technically start nor do they charge us until the 5th of each month" - that kinda peeved me because it's $60!  That's a lot of baby food!)

So I settled on July, August, and September for my suspension.  And then I got a long lecture from a personal trainer that the front desk person called for me since I have to pay for June.  It was pretty good, actually.  She was cute and perky and very thin and leading my ginormousness around showing me some of the weight machines that I can do and some things with free weights that will help keep the metabolism up.  And she had full confidence that I'll lose all this weight directly after because of having kept up my routine.  

Did I mention she was cute and perky?  I wanted to buy whatever snake oil she was selling - and I knew that she was right, that I should keep going with my working out.  But man?  I'm TIRED.  It is so hard for me to have the dedication to walk to the library (10 min walk - and I have to today because my books are due) much less go to the gym with all the other cute perky people, lug myself around and pick up some 10 pound weights while people look sideways at me trying to figure out if I'll have to give birth on their exercise mat.

This morning I have very good intentions.  I have my gym clothes on.  It's a rainy crap day with no reason to go outside.  I got so many errands and tasks done yesterday that I only have to focus on going to work this evening for a couple hours of tutoring.  The conditions are perfect...  The hardest part is getting the shoes on, right?

Ready, go.

Monday, June 2, 2008

Random Monday

You know when you walk by someone and hear a part of their conversation that makes no sense to you whatsoever but you obsess about all the different scenarios that it could have come from?  I love those.  This weekend I overheard a couple of doozies that I'm still mulling over, and I thought I'd share.

1.  I can't believe I saw that guy's entire ass!

Now this one, I over heard at the baseball game on Saturday.  I was watching Reed bat, just minding my own business when a couple of dudes climbing the stairs emitted this little sound byte into my brain.  I have so many questions. Like, was it a naked ass?  Did the guy moon them? Was it intentional or was it plumber's butt gone awry?  Were one of the dudes interested in seeing this guy's ass?  ....

2.  Do you need anything in the bathroom?

This from a guy to his wife in a Target.  I just don't get it.  I'm not even going to ask questions.


Also random?  I dreamt in French last night.  Those have been few and far between lately - mostly I suppose because it's been 3 years since I've moved back to the States and I don't use French on a daily basis anymore.  I like it, though.  Am I the only one that thinks these pregnancy dreams ROCK?  I love how real my dreams are!  Except, of course, when they're bad or scary.  But otherwise?  Awesome.