Monday, June 21, 2010

Enough is Enough

There are in between 12 and 19 days before the baby of mine arrives. I've been just a brewing over a few things. For the last 8 months and 21 days I have listened to people tell me

how to gestate my baby...
eat whatever you want.
only eat fruit and veggies.
walk everyday for 45 minutes.
drink 9-12 glasses of water a day.
put your feet up.
take fish oils.
don't put on too much weight.

how to deliver my baby...
you have to do a home birth.
you have to have an epidural.
you have to skip the epidural and do a spinal block.
you have to go all natural.
you have to do a water birth.
you have to use a birthing ball.

how to raise my baby...
let him cry it out.
rock him until he falls asleep.
let him sleep with you and Ken.
only use Huggies.
only use Pampers.
formula feed.
don't vaccinate.
put him in front of the TV when you need a break.
carry him in a sling all day, no matter what

You get the point? I loved talking about and getting tips about the baby up until my pregnancy reached about 8 months and 18 days. Last Friday, for some reason, I couldn't listen to another piece of advice. And I no longer felt right sharing my plans with everyone. Because my plans obviously clash with the plans Person A, B, C, or D have for me, Ken, and the baby. But guess what? It's not your baby. You don't get to decide anything about this baby. So sorry.

Now, advice I have received from family and friends has been warmly accepted. I only get angry when I announce what we have decided to do or try and I am met with "Oh, that'll never work." or "Are you serious? That's ridiculous. You have to __________." Um.... no I don't. And please be quiet now.

What I have learned? If you wanted to have your baby while hanging from the roof rafters of a barn you could find books, articles, and people that support that technique 100%. If you feel that's right for you- do it!

The decisions you make regarding the baby, even before they come, are very personal. And, for me, those decisions are inspired. I feel as if I have been guided to know what to do. I've relied on the promptings I have received and I know that what I am doing is right for me and my family.

It takes confidence though. Confidence to tell people, strangers, family, anyone that this is what I have decided and thank you for being so supportive- but please support me even if I don't do it your way. You'd be surprised at how turned off people get when you say you are not planning on doing something the way they want you to.

A mother must have an extreme sense of self-respect and self-confidence. How else do they stand up to everyone for what they know is right for their children.

Self-respect? Self-confidence? I've got 'em in spades.
Bring it.

"I am fearfully and wonderfully made."
Psalms 139

Friday, June 18, 2010

Get that Straightened Out

Women drink Castor Oil not Castrol Oil to induce labor.
Just figured THAT one out.

Castor Oil is from the Castor bean and is used as a food additive. It is an old wives tale that it induces labor. There is no scientific proof of this. (According to Wikipedia.)

Castrol Oil is a brand of industrial and automotive lubricants.
This whole time I thought pregnant ladies were chugging motor oil to make their babies come.

How have I survived this long?

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Coming Soon

The baby is coming soon. This is how I know.

1. I had a baby shower. That means the baby is coming soon.
2. Last night I got up 14 times to go to the bathroom. Ken swears it was over 20. I haven't done that since way back in November. We are running out of toilet paper-FAST! That means the baby is coming soon.
3. Out of the tons and tons of maternity clothes I was lended only 4 shirts and 2 pairs of pants still fit. I'm not saying fit as in I like the way they fit or how they look on me. Because they really aren't my faves. But they are the only ones that cover my stretchy, shiny belly. So I wear them. In rotation. That means the baby is coming soon.
4. I get contractions now. I think they are awesome. When one hits I am like, "Practice, Patty!" and I breathe and act all calm and collected and try not to tense up. I am such a pro at this. But contractions! Yippeee! That means the baby is coming soon.
5. My belly button is sticking out so far it has turned bright red and is so stinking sore. I know it's never happened before in the history of man, but I believe my stomach will be the first to explode and I will make history. Popped out belly button? Near-explosive belly? That means the baby is coming soon.
6. His nursery is done. Except for Ken touching up the paint on the ceiling. That means the baby is coming soon.
7. I have hobbit feet. I wake up a normal human and then by noon... hobbit feet. Not AS hairy as the hobbits- but still pretty fa-reaky. That means the baby is coming soon.
8. I keep thinking I see him. Ken set up a co-sleeper next to our bed. It's not attached yet but it's there and ready. It comes up to about 6 inches below our mattress. (Our bed is super tall.) Anyway I'll jolt up (not to pee) because I "heard the baby crying." Then I look over at his co-sleeper and swear he is in there or just was in there. Phantom baby appearances. That means the baby is coming soon. or that I am going a little nutsy
9. I can suddenly remember every word to every nursery rhyme and lullaby ever. I just tuned into that part of my memory and it was all there. I'm humming them all the time and practicing them. A week ago I couldn't remember Little Miss Muffett. Now, I can. That means the baby is coming soon.
10. I'm about the size of a corn-combine. That means the baby is coming soon.
11. I am ready, already! The fun-ness and excitement of being pregnant has (sadly) passed. It's no longer "fun" that I can't clip my own toenails or tie my own shoes. It's not "exciting" that I have to sit up to sleep. It's not "really cool" that I can't wear gorgeous stilettos. I miss you stilettos. I do. I do. I do. So, if I'm ready... That means the baby is coming soon.


Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Feeding Frenzy

This monster has been on a feeding frenzy the last week or so. Go ahead and ask me why. Oh! Good question. Because Ken insists on keeping him in the house ALL DAY! No playing outside, no fresh air. Because Ken is afraid of our neighbor, Rachel. This sort of containment leads to bad-dog-behavior. Honestly, the poor thing gets bored. I believe this is why he eats things. The following is a list of what he has eaten in the last 2 weeks:
1. 1 TV/DVD remote (his third)
2. 1 bunch of bananas
3. 1 bag of Cinnamon Raisin English Muffins (my favorite)
4. 1 flip flop
5. 1/2 of 1 Croc
6. 2 pieces of junk mail
7. 1 Oprah magazine
8. 1 black pair of tights
9. 3 dish towels
10. 1 8 pack of razors

The razors is where the story begins. Ken and I decided that although I love the Venus razors they are astronomically expensive. So, we are going to share a set of mens razors. The Mach 3 or whatever. Something like that. They come 8 in a pack and it's $5. Much better than 3 in a pack for $12.99. So much for being a goddess. We pick up our razors when we do our grocery shopping. We unpack everything and, not thinking twice, leave the razors on the counter. The thought never crossed my mind that Rusty might eat these I better put them somewhere safe. Sunday, we go to church, come home, razors are still there. (I wasn't constantly checking to see if the razors were there at the time. I am just elaborating for sake of the story.) So, Monday we head off to work and when I get home there are plastic, orange and gray pieces all over the living room rug. And razor heads. Seriously mangled up. Rusty is standing there smiling, wagging his tail, happy as can be. I am thinking... "Is he saying 'Looky what I did mommy? Aren't you proud?'" He sure looked proud of himself. I started picking the pieces up. Bending over 9 months pregnant is a pain. Literally it hurts. Bending down nine months pregnant to clean up the mess the dog made that could have been avoided if someone would just put him outside not only hurts... it makes me mad. So I count up the razor tops. Only 7. Rusty must have swallowed one. I check his mouth and he's not cut up. But there were definitely not 8 tops left. There were 2 razors that just had some chomp marks on them and one looked perfectly normal at the top- it was just missing half of it's handle. I figured they were still usable. So I set them in the bathroom and threw the rest away.

Monday night I took on the task of trying to shave my legs. Getting past the belly is a challenge. While I am shaving I get like three cuts- which I find abnormal... I mean I've been shaving for how many years? I've got this down. When I get out of the shower and dry off- I am shocked and in serious pain. There are deep cuts in long straight lines that start at my ankles and go straight to my knee caps. On both legs. Rusty ruined those razors. When I examined what I used it had knicks all over the blade. And it was uneven. Something I wish I would have noticed before. I look like a mangled up cutter now.

I threw the "salvaged" razors out. Though maybe I should have let Ken use one just once.... he would have looked like he was attacked by a bear... or at the very least a weasel or something.

Monday, June 7, 2010

The Evil Empire

Ken calls Walmart the Evil Empire because it is going to take over the world. I like going to Walmart. I really do. I think it's because I get a real kick when things are only $1 and you're not at the Dollar Store. Being pregnant and going to Walmart has been hilarious for me.
First. The store is so huge it would take a normal person 3-5 minutes to get from one side to the other. It takes me like 10. And I pack a water bottle. And take multiple breaks. I'm normally panting and a little sweaty by the time I get from Automotive to Crafts.
Second. Every time I've gone to Walmart in the last month a stranger has come up to me and congratulated me on the upcoming baby, offered advice, or asked to feel my stomach. I guess since we are both shopping at Walmart we do share a common bond.
Last week I was there and checking out baby clothes (THAT WERE $1!!) and an older (maybe 60s or 70s) woman comes up in one of those motorized wheelchair/shopping carts. I don't think she was handicapped... I think she was overweight. This was our conversation:

Woman: When's that baby coming out?
Me: First part of July! (all smiley)
W: Is this your first?
M: It is.
W: I think you're going to pop sooner than that.
M: Really?!
W: Oh yeah. For sure.
M: Well, maybe. We'll just wait and see.
W: Are you having a boy or a girl?
M: It's a boy.
W: Oh, how lovely.
M: Yeah- we're excited.
W: Oh! You are married?
M: Yes. I am. About 5 years.
W: That's good. It's easier to raise a baby when you have a husband.
M: *nods head*
W: Is he loyal to you?
M: Yeah. Yeah he is loyal to me.
W: Oh, how lovely.
M: *nods head*
W: Well, let me tell you about delivering a baby. It's awful. You're laying there and thinking you're going to die and hoping you'll die and asking God to let you die. And you're screaming and you're sweating. And then.... there's a baby and you forget everything. All you think is 'Baby. Baby. Baby. Baby.' You forget it hurts. You forget you hated it. You forget all about being pregnant and you are the happiest you've ever been.
M: Awww... that sounds great.
W: Oh, you will love being a mom. You'll be good at it.
M: Thank you so much. (Starts looking around thinking 'I really need to move on here.')
W: Do you work now?
M: I do.
W: You're not going to work with that baby are you?
M: No. I plan on staying home.
W: That's the only way to raise children.
M: Oh?
W: Yup. They need you so much.
She then starts going through her cart and showing me everything she is buying and who she is getting it for. She got some colorful wash cloths for her daughter because their washer is old and the water is always brown so it turns all their clothes and things brown. She figured if they were colorful the brown wouldn't show up as much. She got some dog treats for her three dogs. She got a few candles that were a dollar to put in the bathroom. Her husband has some issues. Then she started telling me how people need help in this tough time for money. I agreed.
Woman: Do you need some help?
Me: Me? No. I'm okay.
W: No. No. You come with me. Let's go over to the baby clothes and get something for your new one.
Me: *shocked* Thank you so much, but I'm really fine.
W: Oh come on. I saw some cute stuff that wasn't more than $3. Let's go! she started driving away
Me: Really, I am fine. Thank you for your offer and for your help.
W: Now, young lady- I am going to offer you to buy an outfit one more time and then we're through. So, will you come over here and pick out something for me to buy for your son?
Me: *laughing* You don't have to do that. You are very generous. I'll be fine. Thanks.
W: Well, good luck on your big day then. And when you're in the middle of delivering think or me and remember that you won't remember a thing.

And with that- we parted ways.

How can you NOT love Walmart.

And Yet Another

Do Ken and I go to Yellowstone too much? Is there such a thing as going to Yellowstone too much? I think not. Yellowstone Trip 2010 was part of my Mother's Day present. (Staying in the hotel and swimming in the pool was the present... driving through Yellowstone was a perk.) We went up Friday night right after work. Extra special. Stopped at Winger's for dinner. Extra Special since Ken does not like Winger's that much--- he thinks the entire restaurant is "sticky." Took a lot of pee breaks on the way up. Extra special. Still got there in under 2 hours. Extra special. Checked into the hotel and got all kinds of free pamphlets and snacks. Extra special. Went to check out the pool. It was empty. Extra special. Went upstairs and changed into swimwear and returned to a pool that was completely full of people and noisy children. Not extra special. Ken suggested we get in anyway- I suggested we wait until 9. Most people would have left by then to put there little hellions to bed.
We went to the room and watched TV. We don't have TV at home so this was a treat. What wasn't so great- was that there was nothing on we wanted to watch. We were so sure after a year and a half of no TV we would just devour anything that was on. Not so. Tv is over-rated in my opinion.
We headed back to pool a little after 9. When we were getting off the elevator all these Japanese people were getting on. And saying all this "Wing wang maaAA. Shinwa Maaa. Ching. Ching! Wan." They all crowd onto the elevator before me and Ken get out. So weird. And really against elevator etiquette. I told Ken how weird I thought that was. He didn't agree. Okaaaaay?
The pool was just about empty. There was one group left- that I recognized from an hour and a half earlier. I figured they had to be about done. They had little kids. LITTLE kids... like 2 and under. And some bigger kids too. But still- it had to be getting close to bed time. So, we enter the pool area and I unveil my monstrous belly and slink into the pool to enjoy my zero-gravity. I float around for awhile and go under water and this woman, whom I assume to be the mother of this group, starts casting me evil EVIL looks. Every time I look at her she's glaring at me! I froggy kick over to Ken, "Is my swim suit see through or something?"
"That woman keeps staring at me."
"She's staring at me too."
"She's weird."
"I think she wants us to get out."
"I'm not getting out. We've been in for like a minute."

Ken is so unwilling to offend anyone. He suggested I "hurry up" and relax and do what I have to do so we can leave these people to use the entire pool and hot tub. Now let me say, this was a rather large pool for a hotel. There was plenty of room in it for me and Ken and her family of 5 or 6. Pa-LENTY! I keep swimming and after about 10 minutes (mom still staring) she gets all huffy and starts rounding up her kids. Saying things like, "We've worn out OUR welcome." and "The pool is getting REALLY crowded." It took 15 minutes for her to round up the gang and then they were gone and I could not stop laughing. I mean, who says that stuff? She was purposely saying it loud enough for us to hear- but indoor pools are really echo-ey. So I think the whole hotel probably heard her being a quack. Maybe I have a really prominent and rude air and I put off vibes that I don't want anyone near me. Perhaps. But I doubt it.
We slept in a king size bed with tons and tons of pillows- which was awesome and the next day toured the Park. We saw everything- but bears.