Quick baby brief

I have been so uncomfortable the last several nights that I now find myself afraid to go to bed. If I stay up then it is OK that I am not asleep, because I wasn't supposed to be in the first place. You see? I am as logical as a cuckoo.

We washed all of the diapers yesterday. More are coming, but things are all set for now. They already take up an entire (large) dresser drawer, and I am expecting a dozen more fitteds in newborn size alone. Plus I'll need room for the covers. And doublers. And wipes. Oy! Must look harder for a dresser that's just for baby stuff. (I think I'm just going to scour craigslist and look around for yard sales. Anyone have a better suggestion?)

All the ice I've been craving is finally causing problems - my teeth hurt now. Damn it.

The baby was so squirmy last night that we had to leave a party quite abruptly because it hurt. I am beginning to doubt my own judgment and wonder if the pain is indeed my little break dancer and not early contractions.

Notes from the (now weekly) midwife checkup:

It turns out that I haven't actually broken 180 yet, but I am very close. Almost 13 stone, my normal being 8.5 stone. (Do I sound very British?)

Far more interesting: at 34 weeks, my uterus measured 33 weeks and the baby was about four and a half pounds; at 36 weeks my uterus measures 37 weeks and the baby five and a half pounds. I think this change is partly just because the baby has moved forward considerably, making it easier for Diane to palpate (I think that's the word) my belly. It is also clear that froggy is bulking up. Diane also confirmed that my intestines seem to be front and center, explaining the difficulty I've been having finding the baby's heartbeat.

conversation

me: Oof.

Will: Is the baby giving you trouble?

me: Well, between that and some mild gas...

Will: At least it's mild.

me: Not for long, I had falafel and hummus for supper.

Will: And you're having Mexican for lunch!

me: You know, to the casual observer, it must appear that I just don't like you.

happy saturday

Last night...well, perhaps my husband's drunken recounting will be more interesting than anything I could write: oslowe: L'absent

Also I got an invitation to my own baby shower. Only it is a "fiesta." Doesn't that sound exciting? I am holding out hope for a pinata. PINATA! (If you are my friend and live in LA, don't delete the evite from Saria, OK?)

Skylab just looks like any old object in orbit. I expected it to look...I don't know, special. I've seen Dogs In Space three dozen times.

April was the month that I was incapable of meeting deadlines. I made one on the third of the month and everything since then has been late, due (alternatingly) to my slowness and technology's utter failure to cooperate.

On the plus side, yarn sale at my favorite store. (How this can be good when money is tight is beyond me, but it just is.)

The end.

The awesomest talent show entry of all time

Real Life Super Mario | Buzz Patrol

(with thanks to BigEvil)

Excellent.

Eros Guide Erotica Magazine - erotica news, articles, sex events and more from around the world.

My review is, I just noticed, featured on the front page for a second issue in a row. This makes sense, as the movie's opening date was between publication dates and actually closer to the second. Wouldn't it be nice if I got paid twice, too? But I do love the exposure (pun intended).

Sadly, I am still waiting to be In Demand.

36 weeks

In one more week I will be able to safely (and legally) deliver a baby at home. This is so mind-blowing that I am having difficulty even comprehending that there is a baby in here at all. Maybe I just, um, overate! A lot! For the past eight months! You know.

Actually, Will and I were both born two weeks "early" (though at eight pounds for me and seven pounds 10 ounces for him it seems silly to split hairs), as was my sister, so we could actually be a family of three quite soon.

To which I say: I'M NOT READY. Let's aim for 41 weeks, five days, OK?

Click:

(second picture) (third picture)

In the second picture you can see the shelf that froggy's butt forms. My arm/hand is resting on it. In the third picture, you can see how low my belly is dipping. I understand this will seem like nothing in a few weeks.

Almost there...

I'm the Captain of this elevator.

A few minutes ago I had to go downstairs to collect a package from the mail carrier. I took the elevator back up, something I rarely do (it's amazing how unappealing stairs are when there is this much pressure on your pubic bone). Already in the car were a small boy (age 4 or 5 I'd guess) and his father.

When I got on, the boy said, "You're not my friend," and moved closer to his dad. I was quite struck by this, because it was absolutely true. I am not his friend. He's never seen me before. Plus, when I stepped on I momentarily stepped between them.

His dad said, "She's got a baby in there," and the boy became interested. "Open it!" he demanded, pointing to my USPS Priority Mail box.

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

"Not in here," I told him. "In here," pointing to my belly.

"Open it!" he again demanded, this time moving forward and lifting my shirt.

"Not for three more weeks," I informed him. "At least."

As we parted ways on the third floor I heard his father promising him that I'd show him the baby when I got it out.

The care and feeding of a sick Bettie

Boil a pot of water. Add salt and olive oil and pasta of your choice. (Note: choose fusilli.) Cook according to package instructions. Drain. Toss with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Using garlic press, add about half a head of fresh garlic. Then add a few more cloves. Don't worry, no one is going on the prowl tonight. Serve immediately.

While this is happening, win bonus points by cutting the top off another head of garlic, drizzling with olive oil, and wrapping in tin foil. Roast in 400° oven for about half an hour. Take large slice sourdough bread, spread with butter (optional, but trust me - use the butter), and squeeze out roasted garlic over top. Pop into oven to melt butter and crisp bread.

Betties need love, too, so be sure to kiss her temples and refill her water glass. She takes lots of ice.

a few things

on moving

There are some very real reasons that we should move. I doubt I've made them clear because I don't really care to think about it.

Everyone's been so kind to me that I really don't want to seem rude, but you just don't (couldn't possibly) understand: this apartment is HELL. People keep saying that I will have a lovely birth here, and I know that isn't true. I may HAVE to give birth here, but I want you to understand why I am fighting it.

The building is unsafe and falling apart and management DOES NOT CARE.

I was mugged and carjacked and nothing was done to secure the doors or increase security so the other tenants would be safe. NOTHING.

Our roof leaked for a year, and not just drips but RAIN on our heads.

The downstairs neighbors play music so loud that our apartment SHAKES. The bass is so loud it could start a series of explosions.

The across the hall people are the in the hall people most hours - I think there are ten people living in one apartment, mostly kids, and the door always has pot smoke reeking out from under it and the Aerosmith music goes up to eleven and the kids run and shout and do their homework outside of our apartment. Oh, and once THEY called the cops on US for reasons unknown.

There is TRASH in the hallways.

Car alarms go off every five minutes. (That last one may well be true of any neighborhood in LA but it sure doesn't endear me to this one.)

But? It is rent-controlled and we have been here long enough that for what we pay here we could barely rent a studio elsewhere. So time and time again circumstances have told us to LEAVE and financial setbacks have prevented it.

This isn't nesting. It isn't some fantasy about everything being perfect. It is a DESPERATE need to explore every option and try to get the hell out of here as soon as we can.

But I don't deny that we have a nice shower here.

on co-sleepers and money and gifts

I am so uncomfortable with this whole thing that I have almost deleted my earlier post six times this morning.

I know that my friends are just trying to be helpful but I feel that there is some mistaken understanding that Will and I are dirt poor and can't afford to have a baby, which isn't true (either part - that we're that broke or that you think so, unless you do think so, in which case there is a problem bigger than I am ready to address). We have food in the fridge, so much that I can't find anything. We have the money in the bank right now to go buy a crib but I've planned to spend it on other things. We're doing OK, just not OK enough to move and buy furniture - which, um, I don't know many people who are. The real problem is that I suck at budgeting and planning.

But the point is that I am overwhelmed by kindness and a little concerned that people may have misunderstood my complaining as asking for something, which I wasn't. I know I put the wishlist info up publicly, but I thought people might send a onesie or something, you know? But I guess I just have to deal with human kindness because it seems that someone has bought the co-sleeper. So, you know, I like all three colors. The green is especially cute.

I just don't know how to feel about any of this.

to do. the list.

diaper and sewing stuff

• knitted soakers
  
• wash all fabric
  
• sewn covers
  
• wipes
  
• asst. bits of cloth for spit-up or whatever
  
• mommy stuff: pads, upper and lower

just me stuff

• kegels + perineal massage + leg stretches
  
• buy nursing bras and appropriate clothing (still need sleep clothes)
  
• get another massage

birth stuff

• order birth kit
  
• watch Labor Of Love birth "class" DVD (On order)

baby/postpartum preparations

• Wash baby clothes, diapers, etc.
  
• Buy any essentials
  
• freeze meals, stock up on pantry items
  
• clean the house (wherever that may be)
  
• infant CPR class
  
• fire dept. for car seat installation

to do.

The universe keeps telling me to slow down. I don't listen. I stick my fingers in my ears and yell "LA LA LA I can't hear you, Universe" because I want to do everything.

But...I can't.

So the universe, peeved with me for refusing to listen to its gentle whispers in my ear, has its revenge: a head cold. This will make me slow down!

But...I don't. I know this could be worse for me in the long run.

But.

I have to work. If I don't work, I don't pay the midwife. If I don't pay the midwife, well, that won't do.

I have to pay the bills and keep the household running. If I don't...well, it's bad enough that I've stopped doing housework, and at least I have the excuse of sciatica and an excruciatingly sore back for that. I must contribute. Will can't do everything himself, and the credit cards must be paid.

I have to write. I've already given up writing on spec (temporarily). I must at least keep up with the occasional review (especially the one I promised for next week and haven't given any thought yet).

And I have to make preparations for baby. Baby is coming whether I am ready or not. So I must at least have the necessary diapering equipment and somewhere for baby to sleep. The latter has me worried. I haven't budgeted for the co-sleeper. Is it too much to hope that someone will buy it for us? I don't know. I don't really expect any gifts. I mean, it's our baby, not our friends' baby.

Then there is the moving thing. It seems impossible. Move in the next four weeks? Move where? With what money? But the thought of giving birth here makes me hysterical. I don't know if I can do it, and there aren't any options but home. So home has to change, but I don't know how that can happen.

Is it any wonder I can't sleep? (Actually, I think the sleep issues all revolve around my bladder and its frequent fullness, but the worry can't help.)

I can't slow down. I'm going as slow as I can. I've shed all non-essentials from my life (blogs are so essential). This is as stripped-down as my life gets right now.

So what do I do? How do I get everything done? How do I take care of myself and still accomplish what I need to accomplish?

In a few short weeks, my priorities are going to shift drastically. I will be mother first, wife second, and my own last. I know that. I'm ready for it. I hope fervently that I will be able to keep up with my stuff, but I'm willing to slow down for my froggy.

Until then, I mustn't slow down. I can't. I won't.

No matter how daunting my to do list may seem.

The problem with the internet

If you were just here at 10:00 p.m. there is nothing new at 3:30 a.m.

Also, those junk emails from Dunkin Donuts make you sooooo hungry and you totally want to open them and see if there are coupons even though there isn't a Dunkin' Donuts in your state.

The math isn't in my favor.

I think I'm getting sick. My throat and ears are swollen and sore and I am generally miserable.

Last time I was sick it lasted a month. Four weeks of a nasty, lingering cold.

I am due in a month.

Fuck.

Monday, Monday

You are all so adorable, avoiding saying "perineal massage." Which is not the answer. (Though on the subject may I just say "yeeeeooowza." Who knew this would be so much fun?)

In other news, we've just been to a screening of The Proposition, which was almost exactly like watching a Nick Cave album (in the good and the bad ways).

Today for work I played around on sites devoted to comedy and Lego. This is what I get paid to do. Can you believe it?

My obsession with diapers is getting out of hand. Today I picked up the poo pockets (that is what they are really called) I won on ebay. I squealed a lot and then went off to investigate the options in wipe warmers (I'm using cloth wipes too).

BORING AWESOME!

Oh my god.

I will send a five dollar bill to the person who can guess what Will and I did this evening (one specific thing - you don't win if you guess that we ate leftovers for dinner, even though we did). But I'm not giving any hints, except that I really don't think I'm going to reveal the answer publicly.

35 weeks (and some days)

Lately I am thinking froggy is a girl. Will has abruptly switched allegiances and thinks it's a boy. When I dream about the baby, it is most often a boy, but when I dream about giving birth, it is always to a girl. So that's really helpful. Not.

Y'all just want pictures, don't you?

Here is my arm after the midwife jabbed it with a needle (she made it cry):



And here is my big bad baby belly:



Please observe the unreal bend in my back and the enormous love handles. (My thighs are actually quite fat as well but you can't really tell next to the expanse of my belly.) My shirt doesn't really fit anymore - I had stretched it over my belly as fully as possible to avoid bare skin hanging out because that looks kinda trashy and ewwww.

Also, you can see my nipples. Which is not trashy in the least.

foot in mouth. a clarification.

I have a tendency to get pissed off when people misinterperet my words. I have spent many years getting this writing thing down, and I think that for the most part you have to be willfully dense to misunderstand what I say -- or at least not reading very carefully.

That said, sometimes I am really obtuse. For instance, in this post. I think most readers got that what I was saying was that you can't know you're fertile unless you are (or have been, but even that is no guarantee) pregnant. I was poking fun at the stupidity of the way the question was asked. In no way was I making fun of the concern behind it. And frankly, I was making fun of my own reaction, which was accurate in some ways but terribly short-sighted.

A lot of the blogs I read are written by infertile women. There is a lot of pain in infertility. I try very hard in my life to be sensitive to that pain, especially since I had no trouble becoming pregnant myself, and it looks pretty certain that I'll get what one woman refers to as a "take home baby."

One of the bloggers recently learned that the pregnancy she is carrying is genetically [damanged? defective?] to the point that fetal death is certain. She received over 700 comments, a true outpouring of sympathy. Sympathy is something I have in abundance, but I did not leave her a comment because every time I tried to I couldn't stop crying long enough to remember how to spell "I'm sorry." I am looking right now at the fetoscope with which I listened to my baby's heartbeat this morning and I feel so terrible knowing that other women who want this as much as I do cannot have it.

I am not trying to be apologetic that I got pregnant and am having a baby. I think that would be disingenuous � how does having what someone else wants make me a bad person? I didn't take it away from anyone. I wanted it too, and I happened to get it. I am grateful. But I do not feel guilty.

But I am sorry when I am insensitive and brash and hurt someone's feelings, and that's just what happened when I wrote what I thought was a silly post making fun of someone's language (not her infertility concerns). A fellow reader of the site A Little Pregnant followed the link in a comment I left. She saw that I was pregnant and at first assumed that I was an infertility success story. Well, I'm not. I hope (and from her email she seems like a good person, so I even assume) that this alone would not have put her off, but that stupid post did. Her feelings were hurt because I was unclear in my meaning.

Now, maybe her feelings would have been hurt no matter how clear I'd been that I was only making fun of the phrasing and of myself. In that case, there's nothing I could possibly do to fix the situation, and I would have to let it go because I can't be expected to go around making people feel OK about my sense of humor. But I hope that this is a case where some clarification will make things right.

I'm not under any crazy delusions that an apology takes away hurt feelings. Usually it doesn't. Nevertheless, I am sorry. Sorry that I wasn't clear, sorry that I was insensitive, and sorry that there are nice people out there who just want a baby and can't have one.

All my friends are in my head.

So today I had to get Saria a list of people for the baby shower. It was problematic because I kept wanting to invite people who live thousands of miles away. I am getting a little tired, waiting for that portal to be built connecting LA, Austin, and Seattle. (And could we please throw in New York and Chicago?) Don't get me wrong - we know some great people locally. It's just that none of them are the people who aren't here. If you know what I mean.

Also, it hit me just now that I am Thirty five (35!!!) weeks pregnant and will have a real live baby in the very near future and OH MY GOD CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

Current measurements, in inches: 40-36-45 (belly 41).

Wait. Why do I think these numbers haven't changed? And wouldn't that be odd? Let me try again. We'll do centimeters. And, um, get dressed.

102-99-115 (116). Those numbers look much more likely, translating to approximately 40-39-45.25 (45.5).

Anyway.

I think I've just found the downside of ebay. I've been outbid on something I really want, but do not actually need.

In other news:

Former Military Air Traffic Controller Claims Comet Collision with Earth on May 25, 2006

A comet! On the froggy's projected birth date! I've been suspecting I'm carrying an alien. And now I know. (And knowing's half the battle!)

I am neon.

Excuse me. I must brag for a moment.

So we went to that wedding. And I looked pretty cute, right? But it was a wedding, so everyone there looked cute plus there was a gorgeous bride.

My husband had lunch yesterday with the bride, who tells him that two other women in attendance were pregnant but not showing, and both (independent of each other) called her to ask who the gorgeous, glowing, happy pregnant lady was. Apparently I looked blissfully happy to be pregnant. Which, you know, I am, but I didn't realize it showed.

music meme

Step 1: Put your MP3 player or whatever on random.

Step 2: Post the first line from the first 20 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing the song.

Step 3: Post and let everyone you know guess what song and artist the lines come from.

AND DON'T CHEAT!!!

1. (OK, I'm off to a bad start here, but this song is in Russian or Romanian or something else I cannot transcribe. Freebie, I guess.) Santa Marinella - Gogol Bordello
2. "It's another November evening as you remember your way home" This Is Your Life - Dropkick Murphys
3. "How would you like to go bobbing for apples the shape of fish?" Clutch
4. "Behind a cliffside inn, heard a fiddle and a mandoline" The Soapmakers - Clutch
5. "Christmas time is here, happiness and cheer" Christmas Time is Here - The Vince Guaraldi Trio (A Charlie Brown Christmas)
6. "I'd really rather be all alone, I'd really rather be on my own" The Truth About Me - Dancehall Crashers
7. (Another freebie! This one is instrumental. And ten minutes long. And beautiful. And totally ripped off by Mark Mothersbaugh.) Minor Beatrice - Andrew Bird
8. "You ain't nothing but a hound dog, crying all the time" Hound Dog - Elvis Presley
9. "Gonna be a blackout! Gonna nail a black curtain up good and tight, gonna do what my air raid man says is right" Gonna Be A Blackout Tonight - Dropkick Murphys
10. "The winds outside are change, shadows move across the floor chasing the light"
11. "Champagne like a lady, you're everybody's baby, you're everybody's baby but mine" Champagne Like A Lady - Slim Cessna's Auto Club
12. "The strong man he will kneel down whilst angels strip him of cloak and crown" Strong Man - 16 Horsepower
13. "Say good little bad little you, what makes you tease me like you do?"
14. "Wait, don't go too early, you're tired but everyone's tired" Andrew Bird
15. "I'm singing this song 'cause it's time it was sung, I've been puttin' it off for a while" Tom Waits
16. "The ending isn't here (there's something wrong) but it's coming real soon (I'm lock, step, I'm gone)" Lock, Step & Gone - Rancid
17. (Oy vey with the freebies.) The Wedge - Dick Dale
18. (Oh, honestly!) Theology/Civilization (Conan The Barbarian) - Basil Paladouris
19. "It was all upon a foggy night, an abandoned road in the twilight mirror mirage" On A Foggy Night - Tom Waits
20. "Take It Off"

So, you know, post your guesses in the comments. Some of them? Absurdly easy. Most of them? If you are my husband or have very odd taste in music, you stand a chance. Or if you are a lousy rotten cheater and use google. Also please note that I transcribed them myself so this may in fact be a mondegreen game.

things and some stuff

• I am totally addicted to ebay. I have often pondered whether I would become hooked if I started bidding. Apparently so. I've won several diapering items, and there are a few others I've got my eye on. I've bid on a birthing DVD and a wonderful (secret) item for the nursery. So far I have not bought anything I don't need. I can see "need" getting a new definition in the near future...
  
  
• We found the perfect apartment. Well, no - it had the ugliest aqua carpet ever, but it was spacious and bright and airy and wonderful in pretty much every other regard. And the carpet was so kitschy it might work. OK, the cabinets were ugly. And the closet in the spare room was yucky and one of the shower doors was askew. I am grasping here, because it was out of our price range and I might cry. Galley-style walk-through kitchen with a small work area on one side complete with washer/dryer and a dining area on the other side open to the living room. Two balconies. A den area with wet bar, also open to the living room. Two bedrooms down a hallway. Two full baths. Huge walk-in closet in the master bedroom. Another balcony. The building has a pool and jacuzzi (both currently in slight disrepair) and a workout room. Two parking spaces. The neighborhood we dream of living in. Eleven or twelve foot ceilings. *sigh* Can I borrow a few thousand dollars?
  
  
• Ha ha! I said "nursery" two paragraphs ago. That implies that I am actually making preparations of any kind toward that end, and that I expect to have space! Ha ha ha!
  
  
• Not knowing where we are going to be living or where Will is going to be working (assuming that either will change, which please god let both change and soon) is not healthy. I am so tired of worrying.
  
  
• UPDATE: It looks like it is happening. Why do I have so much trouble letting people do things for me? It is still up in the air whether we're having a baby shower. I don't particularly mind either way (though I admit: I love presents) but it needs to get figured out. All that actually requires is my patience until later this afternoon when my friend gets off work and we can talk about it. I don't have much patience. Even tiny insignificant uncertainties are still uncertainties. See above: No more worrying.
  
  
• Mmm, banana.
  
  
• I don't like being such a worrier. It is time-consuming and panic-inducing and I just don't care for it. I wish I knew whether the constant worry is a symptom of our circumstances or a mental defect that is merely being triggered by circumstances. I prefer the former because it will ease up when things change/get better. I hope.
  
  
• Sometimes I kind of wish that somebody else would take charge of my life for awhile.

Thus ends the depressing portion of the afternoon.

for Podgy (some baby knitting suggestions)

Podgy wrote:

I know about a bazillion pregnant women, and it's getting too warm for the coming babies to wear the bazillion baby hats I've knitted. D'oh! Any chance you'd be willing to share the soaker pant pattern?

First of all, don't discount hats! I've knitted tons of them out of nice cotton (I love Blue Sky yarns) and those will be useful all summer. Babies tend toward scalp sunburns without hats! I use the pattern from Last Minute Knitted Gifts by Joelle Hoverson. There is also a really cute pattern at Knitty that I haven't tried, but I think Jess might have.

As for soakers, I haven't found a great pattern yet. I adapted this one (scroll down) to size it for a newborn - about two-thirds sized, stitch-wise. I will let you know if I did so correctly in approximately five weeks. I am trying a much looser adaptation, knit in the round, as well, because sewing up the seams was a pain in the butt. I may try this or parts of it later or as a guide when I get down to the crotch/legs of my current experiment.

As long as you use 100% wool (not superwash!) any little pants recipe will work. Soakers do not have to be fitted and can have long legs or no legs or anything in between. Obviously for summer long wool pants may not be so very appealing, but I wouldn't poo-poo (pun!) them altogether.

I haven't found any consistent information on whether the soakers need to be lanolized. I think probably not, as the whole idea is that there is some natural lanolin in wool yarn, but many people swear by it. Some patterns call for partially felting the pants. This also seems unnecessary but I am planning to experiment with both at some point.

Lots of other knitters read this - does anyone have soaker patterns or advice to share?

This is the bigtime.

Most of the writing I do is unpaid. Several people have looked down their noses at me, told me I'm not a "real" writer, not a "professional," even though neither has anything to do with payment. I also am apparently a bad wife for not contributing more financially. Because, you know, that is anyone's business.

My husband has supported me emotionally and financially for several years while I figure out what the fuck I am doing. For most of that time I was not contributing at all financially, or was working part-time and miserable. My writing did not exactly take off for the first few years, and even now I am often unmotivated. Will has rarely even considered asking me to get a "real job" and wants nothing more than for me to be a successful writer. I am so fucking lucky.

All the reviews I've written for Creature Corner, the blogging I do at b.la, the stuff I'm doing for Noneuclidean Cafe -- I look at all of it as practice, honing of my skill, as a way to get my name out there and show people what I can do.

And it's worked. The naysayers should go fuck themselves (with no release) because today I deposited a check for my Bettie Page review. My writing got exposure to a large readership I would otherwise have never reached and I got paid. Admittedly peanuts, but nice honey roasted peanuts.

Now if I could just get some attention for original work...

html question

Let's say I was putting my portfolio online and wanted to have a separate page for all of my reviews. Let's say I wanted that page to pop up (er, if you clicked the link for it, not just randomly) and be a specific size. Is that easily accomplished? I don't know what to search for on any of the web tutorials I use.

I knitted some stuff I can't show you.

First I knitted a handbag. Which I am going to felt. So while I intend to take its picture as a 'before' record, there is no sense in showing it off now. Then I knitted a cute little soaker pant to go over diapers. Which, frankly, is really absurd-looking by itself, though I suspect it will be adorable on baby. I took a picture and it isn't worth posting.

So now I am sad because I did stuff and have nothing to show for it. Except, you know, the stuff itself. I adapted both patterns! There was math! Some of which I did in my head while sitting next to Simon, a maths teacher, who had no idea what I was doing. It made me giggle to myself.

This is the most pointless entry ever.

In which I rocket into the 21st century.

Last week we had dinner with some fellows who were checking their ebay auctions via electronic handheld thingy (Blackberry? Treo? Blackmagic?).

The last time I used ebay was in 1999 or 2000 when we bought some Time Life books on the Old West and a collection of Vespa buttons (back then, those were for me). Oh, and a 'rare' video that turned out to be a crappy dub and I never left negative feedback and have been irritated with myself ever since.

Anyway.

Today I placed several bids. All on...diapers. Yes, I am bidding on diapers. I want to supplement the fitted ones with prefolds and also pick up a few (used) other styles to see what works best for us. I have already won an auction (three dozen Chinese prefolds for $25) and the glowing feeling is almost unbearable. No wonder people go crazy and get addicted to online auctions.

Eek! I have to go, I've been outbid on a diaper that won't fit my child for a year.

560 square feet

Today Will and I found ourselves inadvertantly looking at two entirely separate condos for sale. One was very modern (in a somewhat art deco building) and enormous and lovely. It costs just under a million dollars. So: HAHAHAHAHA! The other was more traditional, teensy and homey and wonderful. It is priced so reasonably we could have made an offer on the spot -- and we have approximately $50 in savings. But: TEENSY.

We will not be making any offers.

Since we weren't planning to buy anything today other than breakfast and some shirts for me (snap-front cowboy shirts for nursing, because we are genius), this isn't really an issue. Except...well, we are desperate to get out of this foul apartment. I would very likely kill or at least injure in order to get out of here before the frogger's arrival. So although we are looking for a rental, buying is very appealing in its permanence -- the idea of not having to do this again next year or the year after makes me cry with joy. So I must simply keep telling myself that in a one bedroom one bath 560 square foot condo, we'd have to do this again next year or the year after, and we'd have to sell.

34 weeks

First of all:



He is so in love with us.

The weight of the baby/my gut/whatever and gravity have finally gotten together. My belly is hanging lower than it was. I don't know if you can tell from a photo...



I am sleeepy and full in this picture.

So, 34 weeks. Baby is still quite active. Also still butt up, which is apparent when baby does its stretches (by which I mean stretches out arms and legs in front of it and pushes as hard as it can, forming a shelf under my boobs with its behind). Baby is most especially pushy-stretchy when competing for space with non-essentials like dinner. And yet, baby is always hungry. We're planning a chat about cause and effect.

Baby may be a musical genius, which would explain its reaction to Daddy's banjo and singing. Rather than shivers of delight or fear, I theorize that baby is shouting, "NO!" and quivering with rage every time Will sings for pleasure rather than Art.

Between the baby in the front and the extra weight all over (I am at around 175), my back is very unhappy. Not to mention my hips and pelvis. Oddly, laying back on the couch, which puts the weight onto my spine, feels very good. I guess my body is taking what it can get, which means putting up with one kind of pressure to alleviate another.

We received a lovely gift today - a beautiful diaper bag from Dee. Apparently I opened an Amazon/Babies R Us wishlist at some point in time and put this bag on it. I have no memory of doing so, though I do remember considering the registry and deciding to go another route (see sidebar if you're so inclined). So, you know, I'm crazy/senile but the bag is really great so who cares, right? That reminds me, a friend of mine wants to throw me/us a shower. I suppose I ought to take her up on it, since 1) I love the idea of a party to celebrate the Frog, and 2) Presents! but I am a little freaked out by the whole thing. Typical me. (Am I supposed to invite out-of-towners or just local friends? I don't know what I'm doing!)

34 week checkup is tomorrow morning. I am getting the shot. I had a really thoughtful comment sent via PM with questions about my distrust of doctors. I intend to answer it (publicly because it is an interesting subject for discussion) as soon as possible.

I am peeing approximately every 15 minutes. Sometimes considerably more often. Sometimes (several times a day) the baby grabs at my bladder (probably my cervix? feels like it's twisting my bladder) and I have to pee but can barely walk.

I am getting really tired of the mood swings, panic attacks, and crying jags. Of course, when I am not depressed I am blissfully happy.

In vaguely related news, I am most of the way through Anne's House of Dreams.

And in totally unrelated news, my goddamn wireless keeps telling me I'm out of range of the airport. When I haven't moved. And when I do move, to go stand next to it. Bad Floyd! I am very annoyed.

A quick poll while I run around like a madwoman trying to get shit done

Jeez-o-pete am I busy today. I'm taking the time to write this as a sanity-saving measure. Then I have a gazillion things to do for work, laundry and dishes to wash, donuts to buy (what?) a shower to take, weekend plans to make...and all before six.

I'm also hoping to get some sewing done and design my business cards.

And I have a huge pregnancy update in the works. (We're at 34 weeks today! Holy crap!)

Also I had this crazy idea that I'd spruce up my Etsy store and add some things to it in the hopes of generating enough extra income to buy some nice yarn for a baby project.

As you might guess, I am feeling a teensy bit frazzled right now.

So, which of these do you like better - with or without text?





EDIT: Context! The banner (sans text) is on the shop page so you can see it surrounded by the page text. That should be helpful.

I can rearrange the images if anyone thinks it necessary. I arranged them somewhat haphazardly in the first place. And if you totally hate it I guess you should tell me but be nice.

I'm a terrible person.

So I'm putting together pregnancy content for one of the sites I'm working on, and I run a quick google search on infertility. Scanning the results, I see the following:

How do I know if I'm fertile or infertile?

And all I can think is, Well, are you pregnant?

baby post

Last night Will tuned his banjo and played a little. I stood close by and he held the banjo up so the sound carried to my belly. The baby shivered with delight. Or possibly terror, but I'd like to think otherwise. Daddy's little dancer.

wikiMeme

Found in numerous journals/blogs, SBC's being first as I recall...

Instructions: Go to Wikipedia and look up your birth day (excluding the year). List three events, two births and one death in your journal, including the year.

July 6

Events

• 1483 - Richard III is crowned king of England.
  
• 1917 - World War I: Arabian troops led by Lawrence of Arabia and Auda ibu Tayi capture Aqaba from the Turks during the Arab Revolt.
  
• 1944 - The Hartford Circus Fire, one of America's worst fire disasters, kills approximately 168 people and injures over 700 in Hartford, Connecticut.

Births

• 1935 - Tenzin Gyatso, fourteenth Dalai Lama, recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize
  
• 1946 - George W. Bush, 43rd President of the United States

Death

• 1932 - Kenneth Grahame, English children's author (b. 1859)

Some thoughts on comments.

I don't blog for comments. I blog for me, and with the hope of entertaining my readers. That said, feedback is extremely valuable to me.

This page averages about 300 hits per day, not including my own. I am hardly dooce*, but I am not exactly unpopular. Lately my posts have been receiving one to 10 comments apiece. When I asked for advice, I received 20+. (When I was mugged, I received 50+ and my engagement and pregnancy announcements were up there as well, but those were very unique.)

I know that I am just terrible about leaving comments at the blogs I frequent. So this might look a little hypocritical. I'm not complaining, but I am curious - why so many page views and so few comments (comparitively)?

I know part of the trouble is that I have disabled anonymous commenting and discourage commenting at the livejournal feed. I would love to be more accomodating, but if I allow anonymous comments I tend to be subjected to extra abuse, which I am just not willing to suffer right now. I don't mind comments at livejournal but I just can't remember to check more than one place. Blogger emails my comments to me so I never miss any.

Maybe it is time to move over to WordPress like I keep threatening.

In the meantime, what are your thoughts on comments? If you blog, do you do it for the feedback (even partly)?

*I would have thought a link totally unnecessary, but two weeks ago I discovered someone otherwise internet-savvy who had never heard of dooce.

Holy crap!

[Pardon the pun]

Things you didn't know were possible, #362

Not only can you have your ass kicked from the inside, but you can also be tickled from within. It is so cute I could pass out from the sweetness.

fall down hard

We had a babymoon (defined both as a last vacation before baby and a vacation with new baby - obviously we took the former) this weekend. Eryl and Mike were married in Santa Barbara and we spent the weekend.

It started out rough as Will was delayed at work and we didn't even pack until 3:00, the time I'd set to leave by. We left after 5:00 and I promptly screwed things up by taking surface streets out to who the hell knows where. We finally found the 101, though not before I had a near-nervous breakdown. By the time we got to Santa Barbara I was ready to eat the car, but settled for the hotel restaurant. Er, a meal at the restaurant. A waitress (not ours) came over and told me how beautiful I am and asked about our birth plans and I felt much better.

Saturday we walked around town a bit. Breakfast at Joe's Cafe, bought a moleskine at Borders, drooled over antiques, lunch at an Indian place, bought shoes for me (ouch! Size 8 and they still hurt my normally sized 7 feet) and a tie for Will (somehow we both forgot to pack one, but this was providence really as we found one at the costume shop that was exactly right).

The wedding was beautiful and I had a good time, but it turns out that in general a wedding is a wedding. There are too many planned things and the DJs all need a good punch in the mouth. On the other hand, the food was good and there was a photo booth. Maybe later I will hook up the scanner and you can all see how fat I am (the photo booth adds ten pounds to the second chin). On second thought, you can see that with photos from the camera, which doesn't require finding any stray cables. (It did, of course, require a trip down to the car, where we left the camera yesterday, but as you can see no time elapsed whatsoever.)

The view from our room:


The view, much improved by our presence:


And our presence, much improved by our wicked cool shades:


Can you believe the tits on me? Golly!

Sunday we were a bit decadent and had room service breakfast. Will had blueberry corncakes, which he chose the night before whilst totally blitzed. Seriously, the food arrived and he was like, "Um, what am I having, and did I embarrass myself?" Luckily he enjoyed them, and the ham that came with my eggs. (His cholesterol-lowering diet went out the window for two days by my edict.) Eventually we packed and checked out, driving back into town for lunch. It proved nearly impossible to find anything I wanted to eat (or, in many cases, could eat) and I can't help wondering why Will doesn't just divorce me so he can go out to eat without a major ordeal.

So we found a place to eat and everything was fine and then halfway through the meal the weight of the world came crashing down on me and I flipped out. We're talking crying in the bathroom, people. Not good. I was depressed for most of the drive home and a complete wreck as soon as I was able to be (i.e. when I was done driving).

Maybe a vacation wasn't so good an idea, after all. I can't quite handle life being normal again.

I've lost my mind.

I am trying to write a very simple webpage using html. I already know html, and am referring to w3schools wherever necessary. I am trying to add a background color to the page, and a different background color to a cell in the table I am using to divide up the page. My html is correct, I am sure of it. The colors are coming out varying shades of teal no matter what code I use. I am going nuts here. I would assume the trouble rests with trying to give the cell a different color background, only the page background isn't the right color either. WHAT IS GOING ON? I tried removing the color from the cell and the background color is still wrong. And yes, I tried it in Safari, too. It isn't a browser thing.

EDIT: Heath made it better.

Where for art thou, Bubba Ho-Tep?

I don't like loaning my things to other people. Either they forget to give them back or I forget who has my stuff or both.

I am fairly certain someone borrowed my DVD of Bubba Ho-Tep. I cannot remember who it was. I am hopeful that said person reads this. If you have my movie, please let me know. I miss it.

Delicious cheese sandwich!

Not an actual cheese sandwich, but a bloggy one.

Although I still have next to no idea what a receiving blanket is, I now have one. I broke in my sewing machine hemming it. I am pleased to report that the Kenmore is not just pretty, but also functional! Or anyway, it was with K here to show me what to do. Now I'm sure it will refuse to cooperate at every turn.

Yes, I put the munchkin on a plane (er, on the curb by the Delta counters) at LAX last night. Funny story: we both were nearly asleep by 9:00 and sat, dumb, listening to the conversations at Stitch 'n Bitch until it was time to leave.

Back to the sewing: I flaunted conventional wisdom by failing to prewash the fabric. My feeling is that it's just a zig-zag stitch around the edge, and anyway it's fairly tight stitching and the fabric can bloody well shrink to match if it insists on shrinking at all. Also: It's huge and I can always trim it and start over.

Up next: burp cloths and washcloths/wipes.

Incidentally (smooth segue back to the sister), I did not take one picture the entire time K was here. Oopsie! She took lots, though, which I will steal once she is home and has them online.

The gods poured down rain upon our heads for most of the visit, leaving us here with piles of housework. We packed up what seemed like a billion DVDs and VHS tapes, but still somehow have an entire bookshelf's worth out for consumption. It is vaguely horrifying while quite gratifying. We did not, unfortunately, go to Chinatown. We did, however, go to Santa Monica, where K bought some awesome books for the baby and I saw a stuffed Rhino that I have to get. Also we went to Joann and bought fabric (even though I said I was going to find a smaller, less irritating store) and Stitch Cafe and bought yarn. I am officially broke. But while I was spending money, I also got a totally kickass haircut. And some clothes to wear on Saturday, but that couldn't be helped � it is a black tie wedding and while I think the eight-months-pregnant lady can get away with being slightly underdressed, I don't think sweatpants would have been acceptable.

And now for a quick whine/plea for attention: did you all read my Bettie Page review? As it is my first review outside of Creature Corner (with whom I have not parted ways � I've just eased up on my contributions) I would really love some feedback. Be warned, it is posted at an adult website (not porn).

The end! Now I want a sandwich.

Ways in which I am a horrible bitch.

• I believe implicitly that my own need to eat, sit down, pee, sleep, whatever trumps all else.
  
  
• I use the baby as an excuse for the above.

What makes you a horrendous bitch, dear readers? (Don't bother telling me that it's OK to do this stuff � I know it is or I really wouldn't. I still think it is pretty funny and a little obnoxious.)

I am clever and crafty.

Also, I take back everything nasty I have said about MySpace.

Well, not everything.

It did, however, just enable me to track down my beloved hairdresser.

I called the Buzz Stop to schedule an appointment to have this mop removed from my head before our vacation, only to find out that Kristal had left the salon. I panicked and made an appointment with someone else who's never cut my hair. As soon as I hung up I rethought it and googled Kristal. The #1 result was her MySpace page. After I got over how young she is I sent her a note and then dug a little deeper (er, scrolled down) and found the name of her new salon. I got the poop on it and called, making an appointment there instead. I cancelled the hastily-made appointment at the Buzz Stop. And all is right with the world.

(Gwen, you should probably disregard that card I gave you. I'll get you the new info.)

This link may not be safe for work.

The Notorious Bettie Page

negative (updated)

Five minutes after my husband left for work on his Vespa, the weather forcast changed from light rain to chance of flooding. Also it started pouring. I am concerned.

My blood type is A- which means that I am Rh negative which means that if the baby is Rh positive there could be problems. Traditional care in this country would have me getting a Rhogam shot at 28 weeks. I did not, opting instead for a blood draw to confirm that I was not sensitized to Rh+ blood. I had another blood draw yesterday (32 weeks and some days) and have the option to continue this way or have the shot at any time.

On the one hand, the chances of blood crossing the placenta and me becoming sensitized are extremely low. I think less than 2%. If that happens, this baby will probably be fine (though future pregnancies could be difficult or even impossible). However, I will probably have to deliver in hospital, which is my worst-case scenerio (er, I have two worst-case scenerios � this is the one that involves a relatively healthy baby).

I keep changing my mind about the shot. I will definitely get one after giving birth (the most likely time for sensitization) once we've typed the baby's blood (if it is negative too there is no need). But should I get one now? I just can't decide.

The risk of hospital delivery and/or no more pregnancies is one that I am absolutely not OK with. And yet, everytime I say "Let's get the shot" it feels like absolutely the wrong choice.

I can't finish this thought � my poor soaked husband has just called from the office asking for dry pants. I am curious about your thoughts on what I have said, though.

�UPDATE!

More information: Will is Rh+. I don't know his parents' blood types. The chance of the baby being Rh+ is 50% or higher. I have not done any prenatal testing except blood tests. The risk associated with the Rhogam shot is described as "negligable," but it was also described that way back when the shot contained massive quantities of mercury (as recently as 2001). It is very rare that blood would cross before the birth without some major trauma (such as a car accident); however, both cases my midwife has seen of sensitization were without explanation.

Logically I think the best thing to do is get the shot. But I am very opposed to doing anything unnecessary and this is right on the line. It is probably silly but I am just sick with worry over whether I am making the right choice (whichever choice I've made at any given moment).

Do you know where I am?

Will is in the chair, playing GTA: San Andreas. KJ is on the couch, reading Fables. And I am within mere feet of both of them. The modem is upstairs.

This wireless thing may be all right.

No, really. I meant to get up at 3:30.

Le sigh.

Thank jebus for blogs. I'd drink myself back to sleep if that were an option, but since it isn't I suppose I should try to start writing my review. Monday a.m. deadline and all.