The Baby App on my iPatty informed me today that there are 40 days left until my due date. With the c-section scheduled for one week prior to that... I have 33 days left. 1 month and 2 days.
A part of me is so sad.
This new baby is (yet another) miracle in my life. I am excited in many ways to be growing my family.
But...
I'm going to miss how things are now.
With the 3 of us.
Things are so easy right now. We have a simple and lovely life with Koley. It revolves entirely around him. (The new baby will be good for that.) This weekend I was thinking about (and treasuring) my life right now. It seems perfect. It's not. At all. I mean you've heard me complain about the overload of trucks and the occasional underload of sleep. It's trucks all day and all night and at all meals. It's the same books five thousand times. It's the same request for toast with "buddur" and "yelly" and "no tut." <--- no cut. We go to the same parks and get excited over the same slides. He dig the same holes in the same sand boxes. The life I have with Kole is very much the same from one day to the next. But it's secure. It makes us happy. I don't want to change it. I feel like I know him so well. And like he knows me so well. I know a sleepy cry from a hungry cry to a hurt cry to a frustrated cry. I know when "no" means "yes" and "yes" means "on the double." I know which outfits he likes to wear and which ones he wears because I make him. I know his favorite toys and favorite songs and favorite words and how to make him laugh until he can't breathe.
And I just feel like when the new baby comes that's all going to change. Kole won't be my baby anymore. He'll be my big boy.
... and I'm going to miss my little baby boy.
I already do.
Kenner is the newest college graduate in our family. He officially graduated May 12th. But, he is still waiting for his diploma in the mail to make it official official. He also turned 29 on Saturday. (He's getting so much older than me.) So we had a slamming jamming whamming ka-bamming party for him.
It started at 3 AM in between Friday and Saturday. I never know... is it 3 AM Friday night? 3 AM Saturday morning? *lots of shrugging, confused eyebrows, and squinty eyes*
I had got some birfday decorations for him. I know that's what kids like. But you'd be surprised at how well adults react to a little extra attention. (Try applauding the next time someone you love comes in the room.) I'm not sleeping that much right now (or for the next 5 weeks) anyhow. All the bathroom breaks, crampage, and all around discomfort make for really restless nights. So, getting up to decorate is no biggie. Plus I had all the balloons blown up and hidden already. I figured if I did it around 3... a time when my body normally wakes up... I could finish in an hour and be back in bed by 4. That plan would have been perfect except at like 3:20 a big fat ugly spider ran across the kitchen floor and I was frozen on a kitchen chair for about a half hour waiting to see where it went and if it was coming back out. So I finished up about 4:35.
Saturday morning, Ken went down to make us breakfast... he didn't know I already had Sweet Orange Rolls cooking for him... hehehe. I'm amazing. Tell your friends. Me and Kole were making our way down the steps when Ken popped around the corner, having seen the kitchen, with his face lit up like a bug zapper. "Clean it up!" he teased. And then he laughed and gave me a big old smoochy.
His birthday continued with a trip to The Air Show at the Hill Air Force Base. Which was free. Which I am still shocked about. How do they make things free? Kole and Ken really loved it. Lots of big trucks. Planes. Helicopters. You could walk through hangars and those big dump plane things. Are they called cargo planes? We were there about an hour when the rain was moving in. And it was a fricking cold windy rain. I think Kole's favorite part was riding a bus back from and to the car.
That afternoon Ken's parents came down for cake. I made it and it was da bomb. I made Pittsburgh Catholic Wooden Spoon Cake. Yum. Yum. Yum. When Kolester went to bed I immediately broke out the cake and candles. I thought I would write a "2" and a "9" on the cake for twenty-nine since there's only 24 in a box and I didn't want to use the whole box. Well. I did that. And used the whole box (minus 2). But it looked lovely.
He blew them all out on his first try. No girlfriends I guess.
Ken is really maturing in his golden years. Lifting heavy things for his pregnant wife, bathing Koley every night without my help, fixing the bed all by himself, reading learning books. He even started a Facebook page for himself. Been a long time coming on that one.
And now, of course, that's all he wants to do. Check his page. See who commented. See who accepted his friend request. He's a newbie at it. And it's cute.
Ms. Victoria and Miss Jenn got married in Washington D.C. Because the gays can't legally get married in da Burgh. (Although the mayor is apparently very pro gay rights.) I did not attend that ceremony because I'm 9 months pregnant and driving to D.C. (3 and a half -4 hours away) just sounded like one bathroom break after another and really swollen hobbit feet.
But... from the pictures I've seen... it was magical.
Newly Minted Married Couple
How she didn't become a super model... don't know. Don't know.
New sister-in-law, Jenn.
Really never thought I'd have a sister in law.
I lucked out.
Krissy and Andi DID go to Washington DC and apparently had all kinds of fun without me. *Pout*
Everyone came back to Pixburgh on Saturday and the partay got started.
Getting the bride ready.
Killer playlist was rocking on the iHome.
(iHomes are apparently standard at The Marriot.)
Dad put us up in The Marriot. Swanky! I felt so rich and spoiled. And after seeing all my sisters dressed... I felt fat too. But a good fat. I would have been the chubby one even without Baby J in my pouch. I like eating junk food more than I like being skinny. Do pregnancy was a great excuse to be neither skinny or tan like my seesters.
We drove over to the reception which was in Millvale at a gorgeous park by the river in true frat style. Windows down. Music up. I think Jenn may have blushed. She was already there awaiting her bride.
Didn't know we were supposed to be doing the kissy face thing. Whoops.
This reminded we of that part of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.... What do you see, you people looking at me, you see a girl on a music box that's wound by a key.
Couples first dance.
Blurriness thanks to my photo taking skills which are way below sub par.
Highlights: 1. The Food. Do I emphasize food too much on here? It was incredible. They had lamb burgers and fish tacos and these incredible salads. I didn't even know what I was eating. And, trust me, that didn't stop me from returning to the buffet line several times. AND! People kept letting me cut because I was pregnant. They were all, "Oh go ahead. Go ahead. You've got to keep that baby fed." Love it! Maybe post-baby I'll just keep a pillow rolled up in there. Can't lose these perks.
2. The Dancing. Victoria and Dad did the traditional Father/Daughter dance to "Sweet Caroline" by our family's favorite: Mr. Diamond comma Neil. By the end of the song the entire Bradley family (me and sisters and mama-sita) were all circling Vicky and Dad. It was So Good! So Good!
A little alcohol always fills up the dance floor. Not that I drank- I've got this cub in my chub.... but people were there to celebrate and party. And by golly did they! Plus, a majority of the guests were of the lesbi-onic persuasion or gay. And we all know those gays love to dance. I could do one song (or half a song) and then have to sit on the sidelines and watch for 3 or 4 songs. I had to save my energy for Ciara's 1-2-Step and Party Rock Anthem. Which I don't think ever got played. Don't matter. Every DAY I'm shuff-a-lin.
3. Their Guests. You guys know I am slightly introverted in a crowd. Don't like going up and introducing myself. I choke at small talk. I come off as rude and uncaring. This crowd of Vicky and Jenn's friends... AMAZING! I felt like I was surrounded by my own sisters. Like 150 of my own sisters. They were open and friendly and giggly. Happy, goofy, and loving. It wasn't awkward. At all. Not even when they rubbed my belly or introduced me to their date. Who was also a girl. I met so many educated, lovely, and beautiful women. Successful too! And all Vicky's male friends were gorgeous. And there with their male dates. It might sound like a Bizarro world. But it seemed so normal. Maybe I'm used to it because Ken is always telling the old joke about how HE is a lesbian because he loves women so much.
4. The After Party. We made "Snack-tivities" for everyone to take home. It was a s'more kit. Wish I would have taken a picture after tying the 250 bags up. They had a fire so people could make them there or take them home. But what I really wish they were handing out were these:
PITTSBURGH PIRATE SNUGGIES!
I am a sucker for a Snuggie. Andi scored this one off Uncle Judd. That and a Double Whopper sounded really good at 2 AM when the party wrapped up.
I babysat a boy named Luke for several years while I was in middle school and high school. I was there for his very first day of kindergarten. He lived down the street from me. Not even a full block. My family and Luke's family have become dear friends through the years. You know, we comment on each others Facebook and send the annual Christmas card. Basically inseparable. So, when I was landing in Pittsburgh one day before the wedding I called his family to see if I could crash on their Tempurpedic guest bed and stay up late telling old stories.
They indulged me.
First of all, the snacks were great. I started off with a chipped ham sandwich with Mayo (something Ken would never make... Mayo is the white death to him.) Then I went in on the chips and Pittsburgh Pretzels. I rounded off the box of brownies from Giant Eagle, ate a row of Chips Ahoy, and finished off with a theater size box of Dots. But, I drank about 5 big glasses of water. So I consider this healthy.
Luke got married last summer so we talked all about that. Mark is joining the Navy. And Rita is exactly exactly the same. I loved it. She has the answer to everything. And still smokes Virginia Slims. So grateful for that. I just love the smell. Nothing commandment breaking about that. I felt like this family and their house had been in a time capsule just waiting for me to open it. I mean, Luke was like 3 feet taller... but it felt homey. And it was good to hear that Luke still basically only eats pretzels, Pepsi, french fries, and Oreos. Though, credit to his wife for introducing him to steak.
Lukie Pie back when I was babysitting him.
Patty Cake back when I was babysitting.
Me and Rita.
Whitening Strips have done a lot for me.
Mark, Rita, Luke
Friday I met Nikki and Rachel from high school at the Olive Garden for lunch. Oh. Em. Gee. I haven't laughed that hard... probably since high school. They were giving me the scoop on everyone. I must have just camped out in Naive-ville during those 4 years of my life because I thought smoking and swearing were pretty much the worst thing people did. I didn't know kids were having sex and doing drugs. Nikki let me in on a little secret: I was probably the only one not doing those things. As I carved my way through 2 big bowls of Olive Garden salad and about eight bread sticks... I was reminded that I am young. Rachel's got 3 girls and she spoke so honestly about them. She called them brats and spoiled and rotten but also beautiful and funny and adorable. (All in a Pixburgh accent.) To be hearing such honesty was liberating.
Rachel and Woobs
Sometimes, where I live, I get the feeling no one is really telling the truth. About anything. Everyone is trying to paint a picture of how they want you to see their life. Perfect this. Perfect that. Perfect lie. It's been difficult for me not having an outlet to say, "Kole is being a brat today." and not hearing back, "Oh, but he is a child of God and you should love him." When did I say I don't love my kid? I do. But it's not all unicorns and chocolate covered cherries. HELL-o! Being with those girls reminded me that I am only 27. And that's exactly how I should be acting. Lose the gramma sweaters and the reading glasses. Go out. Be honest. Have fun. Live YOUR life.
Sing it with me now: Toniiiiiight... We are YOUNG! Let's set the world on fiiii-iire!
Man! It makes me wish they lived close to me. I need that reminder. A lot.
Oh! And the whole time I was there.... my hair... just WORKED.
Koley and Ken met me at the airport with a "Welcome Home Mommy" sign that Kole had colored/scribbled on and decorated with his favorite medium. Stickers. It made me all misty-eyed. Ken made me a Welcome Home Cake. (Angel food cake with whipped cream and heath icing.) I think I need to leave town more often. *wink*
All my fears and anxieties about leaving were melted away by my third lay over. Most likely because they were replaced by nausea. Take off and landing were... rough. I scared the Asian girls that were sitting next to me on my first flight. They screamed like I was pulling a gun on them. All I needed was a vomit bag. All the grappling in her seat pocket must have scared her. My sickness finally repelled the overly-inappropriate flirt-er who sat next to me flying to Omaha. I really honestly do NOT care that you run 7 miles a day, have a neon Nike flashing GPS pedometer calorie counting wristband, work as a engineer for "the worlds biggest engineering company," talk to your mom once a week, are switching from vegetarian to Raw, or just live in Omaha temporarily. I wasn't saying I needed your vomit bag as a chance to lean over you either. I hope I splashed some on you. Perv. I'm married... and pregnant. I mean... that's just gross. My next flight I took a Dramamine from a stranger. I didn't even think things like: "Don't take drugs from strangers." or "Is this safe to take during pregnancy?" I just took it and kept my eyes shut and felt better by the time I touched down in Milwaukee. I normally like to read on planes (and always) but didn't even crack my book open.
I noticed just about everybody reads on planes. I got to thinking that if some people never got on planes they would also never read a book. I completely judge people by the books they are reading too. If they are reading Hunger Games or 50 Shades of Grey I figure they are the ones who read a book when they fly. Which they most likely purchased at the airport. Lame. Nicholas Sparks and Sue Crafton count as people who might read 3 books a year... and not very good ones. A girl sitting across the terminal aisle from me was reading a David Sedaris book and I hoped in my heart that we'd be sitting next to each other. No luck. I didn't even give people the opportunity to judge me based on my literary selection... I provided memories of Vomit Girl. The plane knew (even up in first class) that I was sick.
I got to Pittsburgh at 9:30.
I felt renewed. Excited. At Home. Like "me."
I felt alive.
Part of it was the smell. Cigarettes. I love the smell of cigarettes. And the other part was the Pittsburgh accent. I never had a very strong one and what I did have is totally gone. Sad. But it was music to my plugged up ringing ears.
And I just found out I can hear a little of it anytime I want via YouTube.
Tomorrow I'm flying across the country to see my sister get married. I'm going solo. For months I have been excited about this. So excited it made me feel guilty tell Ken just how excited I was to be going by myself. Without him. Without Kole. Just me.
Last night at around 3 I woke up in a panic. How can I leave Koley? How can I go without my family? His Grandma Sheri is coming to watch him during the day while Ken is at work. She knows what to do. I just suddenly feel unable to go.
What if something happens?
What would happen? Anything could happen!
What if he cries?
What if he won't take naps?
What if he's grumpy?
What if he only wants him mom?
What if he's mad at me when I get back?
I'll be gone for 5 days. Not that long. All my excitement is gone and replaced with worry and dread. I never went back to bed last night and with Kole's first chirps this morning (at 7:15) I got right up and snuggled him.
Have you vacationed without your kids? How old were they? Was it successful?
Talk me off the ledge here. I bought traveler's insurance and I am all too tempted to cancel my trip and get my money back.
I'm in the long awaited third trimester of pregnancy. Week 32. I feel really good (and fat!) when I say "32." I like being pregnant fat. I especially like it after I eat a lot. Take Sunday when me and Ken had our Guacamole Gorge. I felt like my stomach was going to explode because I ate 4 avocados worth of guac.... and then I look down and go, "Oh! I'm having a baby! THAT'S why I feel like exploding! It wasn't the guac." (P.S. It totally was the guac.)
People keep asking me when the baby is due. Strangers ask. I like that. It's obviously soon because my belly is starting to hang out the bottom of my maternity shirts. Not attractive. Just shiny and tight and slightly purple. A couple times I've picked a really ridiculous due date. "Halloween." And I just watch their eyes get big. Hehehe! They're strangers. I shouldn't be talking to them anyway. Might as well give them something funny and incredulous to say at dinner that night. (I love getting the opportunity to use the word "incredulous.")
Some irritating moments have cropped up that I know are just going to get worse. For starters, those maternity shirts. Just not long enough. I mean. People over 5'2" have babies all the time. And don't want to be wearing a cut off t-shirt. I'm not overly tall. I'm perfectly average. Yet, here I am, tugging at my shirt all day. I'm about to don the 3XL Utah Jazz T-shirt that I wore the last month of Kole and a pair of Ken's jammer pants and head to Walmart. (Because I would blend in there.)
I've also had to switch from bending to squatting. If I bend I... barf. Just in my mouth. But it happens. And I hate it. So I squat and occasionally a toot comes out... I blush. Even when its just Koley. He laughs at it. I often get stuck there squatting. It hurts my calves. There is no more slouching, no more crawling, no more laying flat in bed, no more days when my back doesn't hurt. *sigh* My shoes are still fitting. That's good. My hobbit feet haven't emerged yet. But, patience is a virtue. They will come. They always come.
7 more weeks of people opening doors for me, giving me the right of way when crossing the street, offering to help me carry things. 7 more weeks of a kind civilization.
The baby will double in size in those 7 weeks. If my memory serves me correctly I will too.
1. Kole starting walking sorta funny on Wednesday when I would put his sandals on. He'd walk on his tip toes or do a little waddle. We were staying at Ken's parents house and I figured he was just really excited. Thursday, same routine, he had a little red spot on his foot. I thought it was a bug bite. Creative walking continues through Saturday. Ken was finally home and the three of us were heading into the grocery store. Kole appeared to be limping. We stopped. I thought maybe he got something in his shoe. Ken takes his shoe off and yeah. There was a wood chip stuck in the bottom that was poking through the shoe into the bottom of his foot. Causing what I thought was a bug bite and all the unusual walking. The poor bubbas was in pain. There was literally a thorn in his shoe. Ken removed it and walking returned to normal. Bad Mom Moment Counter enters the hundred thousand score.
2. I'm at a store with my mom last week. Kole was being... active and didn't want to sit in the seat of the cart. So, I let him sit in the bucket part. All went well for 10 minutes. Then he stood up. Still fine. He was holding on. Then he started walking around in there. Whatever.. Go ahead. As long as your quiet and smiling. Then he started tipping his head backwards over the edge. Um. No. But once proved too fun and he wouldn't stop. Until he lost his balance and fell. Backwards. Out of the cart. My mom caught him before he hit the ground because she IS a super mom. All I could do was try to get my heart to start beating again. All those warnings they put on carts about death and serious injury occurring... are apparently quite warranted.
3. Saturday night we put Koley to bed and started a movie for ourselves. Kole chit chatted in there. Then sang a little. Then moaned. Called out for us. Started crying. Stopped crying. Talked some more. Made truck sounds. It went on and on for over an hour. Then he cried. Hard. Ken and I agreed not to go in. After being on "vacation" at grandparents for a week it was time to buckle down and get back to normal. He fell asleep. Before we went to bed I decided to go in and check on the cubber. I opened the door and his room stunk sooooooo bad. He was upside down with his leg stuck out the side of his crib with the stinkiest diaper to date. He was sound asleep... but in bad shape. I unstuck his leg, changed his diaper, and covered him back up. He stayed in a dreamlike haze. And luckily he didn't remember it in the morning. Because I deserved a serious talking to.
I'm staying the week with my Mom and Dad. Ginger and George. It's a little like going back in time. Or being stuck in time. Everything is the same here.
My mom and dad get up at 6 and read scriptures together. They both have breakfast and take turns getting ready for work. My mom teaches 6th grade. My dad works from home. But he still gets all dressed up. Mom leaves for school and the house is quiet. At 10:30 Dad comes up for a break. Grabs a piece of fruit (or a handful of M&Ms) and a glass of water. He asks how everyone is doing and then heads back down into the pit. The house is quiet again. At 1:00 he comes up for lunch. He has a bowl of soup and crackers. Every day. He watched FOX news really really loud. (So loud it woke me up from my nap.) Then at 2:00 he goes back down. Mom comes home right before 3. We have an afternoon snack and she tells me about her students. Who is good and who is bad and who is funny. Dinner is at 6:00. Dad goes to bed in between 8:30 and 9:00 and Mom stays up late. Working on her computer. Which is downloading songs in iTunes and uploading pictures to Ofoto. Around 11:30 she turns in too.
It's been the exact same since I lived here 10 years ago. The walls have been painted and repainted a few times. The furniture has changed. There's a hot tub out back now. But they are the same people on the same schedule.
That's comforting to me.
And even more so when I see how happy they are in their routine.
1. I thought of another "moot point" I used to use. I thought it was "On the Devil." Not "on the double." Example. Ken would say, "Can you get me an Oreo on the double?" As in super quick. I heard- "Will you get me an Oreo on the Devil?" As in the devil will cover the charge. When I finally broke down (after being married for 6 years) and asked him why people say "on the devil"... I was extremely humiliated. It has nothing to do with temptation or the devil picking up the tab. At all. As you all know.
2. My sister, Victoria, is getting married in 2 weeks. I have been looking for a shrug mercilessly for at least 6 weeks. A shrug is a mini sweater- that covers up the fattest part of your arms. Which is why I want it. I need one in ivory or beige or a light light pink. Do you have one I could borrow? Or a link to where I can buy one. Desperation in sinking in.
3. Andi, the DJ at 26.9 The Fantasy Line, sent me this little gem-let yesterday. The e-mail just said "You're Welcome." Andi has been running her imaginary radio station since she was probably 9 or 10. She'd sit in the living room and replay the intros to Air Supply's Greatest Hits until she had her intros timed to right when the lyrics started. We were encouraged to "call in" and make requests. Off that set of tracks I like "Lost in Love," "All Out of Love," and "Making Love Out of Nothing At All." I think her inspiration was Delila After Dark. Delila was the evening DJ on Pittsburgh's Soft Rock Station: WISH 99.7. I think Andi has honed the art. Am I the only one who thinks it's funny that the station frequency is 26.9? Which doesn't exist on a real radio dial. And she called it The Fantasy Line? But it is in no way similar to a 900 number. Andi didn't know these correlations when she kicked off her radio debut. But I'm glad she hasn't changed them in the last 15 years.
4. I think Kole is back to normal.
5. I'm really into Breaking Bad right now. A couple of those episodes in Season 2 I had to sit out. I have Post Television Stress Disorder and Walt was not helping. But now that I have safely entered Season 3 through Netflix... I can't get enough.
6. I just finished reading The World According to Garp by John Irving. It was stunning and horribly sad. And I feel like Garp is real. Next in line? Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer.
7. Last night I went out with my friend, Celeste. We went sans kids. We ate (I over ate) at Texas Roadhouse because Ken is too much of a food snob to ever eat there with me. I ate 6 of those incredibly soft rolls with their cinnamon-y honey butter. It was the perfect refresher. We talked about new houses and old boyfriends and things that will get better and things that will get worse. And we didn't talk about our kids at all. Which was deeeeeelightful.
8. I think I am putting on one pound per day. I'm getting blimpy up there in front. When I am pregnant I feel like as my stomach gets bigger the rest of my body gets smaller. My face is thinner, my plump peach bum recedes, my legs are skinny and toned, my back has a beautiful curve to it. I know it can't be true. But when I look in the mirror.... I see it. Oh yes. I see it.
Someone "un-followed" me today.
I don't even know who. I'm not a very good leader if I don't know my followers. *wink*
Has this happened to you in Blog-land?
I just wondered....
What did I say?
What did I not say?
What in the heck was I not providing this person?
I mean, it takes effort to un-follow someone.
All that clicking and layouts and templates and lists.
Maybe they were just cleaning Blogger House.
And I didn't make the cut.
It feels like breaking up. Through a post-it note.
Plus, now I'm at 64. Where as of 12 hours ago I was at a nice round 65.
64.... egh.
These POWER soft rock BALLADS will take you there.
And they are all I want to listen to today.
In ranking order:
1. At This Moment- Billy Vera (released when I was -3 years old. 1981.)
2. How Am I Supposed To Live Without You - Michael Bolton (Released when I was 5.)
3. Didn't We Almost Have It All - Whitney Houston (I was 3.)
4. Anything for Love- Meatloaf (Big double digits... 10 years old.)
All songs my sister Andi would have played on her made-up radio station "26.9 The Fantasy Line." I think I'll post about that tomorrow.
In the meantime, try NOT to sing along. It's impossible.
A kind thank you to every one who buoyed me up yesterday.
I'm feeling better, breathing deeper, and taking it in stride.
The kid is good 96% of the time.
And I'm a stellar mom 100% of the time.
I like that no one preached.
Every assured me it was normal.
But still... kept the validity of the situation for me.
It's weird, becoming friends with strangers... while they remain strangers.
I don't think I'll ever really meet any one from Blog World.
But I talk to them/you every day.
I know what is happening in your lives, what projects your working on, whose communion dress you are sewing, when your kids have birthdays, and how many T-shirts you have in your bottom drawer.
It's like living in make-believe.
"It's such a good feeling, a very good feeling. Knowing I'll be back, when the day is new, and I'll have more ideas for you. And you'll have things you'll want to talk about. I. Will. Too."
