Not Ready!

Lucy has not had any mother's milk since Sunday, in the very, very early morning.

I. Do. Not. Approve.

This has not been easy for me. Even though weaning her has been on my to do list for a while, it hasn't been on the short list. I keep offering her the tit at all of the usual times, but she worms and wiggles her way out of my arms and hits the floor running. If I try and catch her she screams in protest. 

The only time she'll accept the breast willingly is in the middle of the night. Great, but guess who's been sleeping through the night for months? I don't even turn the monitor on most nights. Well, that's a lie, but if she makes a peep I don't hear it. Even on those odd nights that she does wake up loudly, she is usually back to sleep again on her own before I haul my ass out of bed, get a drink of water and make my way to her room. I end up standing outside her door, breasts bared, listening for any sign of an awake baby toddler, and then mournfully making my way back to bed. Pathetic.

With Sam, I was in total control. I had plans, schedules, and rules. If I hadn't weaned him, I'm willing to bet he would still be nursing happily on the daily. So, like everything with this girl, I was surprised when she just, well, rejected me. I guess I should be glad that it went so easily. I guess I should be glad she waited until now to self wean so I didn't have to start messing with formula. I guess I should be glad someone else can put her to bed now.

But I'm not. I'm just not.

*sob*

On Birthing Babies

Lucy has been with us for a whole week. I can't believe it. It seems like she been here forever. I mean that in a good way, just so you know. The transition from one to two has been easier than I expected, due in large part to my speedy recovery, I think. And the glut of help I've had in the form of Allison and my parents.

All throughout my pregnancy I was worried about my delivery. Sam's birth went about as smoothly as any scenario I could have ever imagined, so I was pretty sure this time around was going to be harder. I was wrong.

My induction was scheduled for 7am on Wednesday the 22nd. At 1:15 in the mother fucking morning, my cell phone rang. It was the hospital calling to ask me to come in at 6am instead. While I appreciated being bumped up higher on the list, you would think they might have not called in the middle of the god damned night. Well, it didn't matter much because an hour later I started having contractions. Of the real variety. None of this false-labor-braxton-hicks-bull-shit. These were the kind of contractions that meant business.

In a way, I was so relieved. If I had I just gone to the hospital and gotten hooked up with the drugs, I would have always wondered when things would have gone down if I let them happen naturally. I kind of got the best of both worlds this way. By 3am, I was wide awake and ready to go. Sleep was off the menu at this point, and then my water broke. At least, that's what I thought at the time. Turns out I was wrong. But we didn't know that until I was at the hospital an hour later.

Once we got to the hospital, things moved along very quickly. I got a room and an IV, had some nurses check me out, cervicially speaking, and settled in until my doctor came on for his shift at 7am. I even read for a little while. At 7 my doctor broke my water, at nine I started a pitocin drip and at 9:30 I got my epidural. An hour later my doctor checked my progress and I was dilated to 5 centimeters.

My body responded very quickly to the pitocin during my labor with Sam. Because of this, I should have insisted on another cervical check half an hour later when I started having some serious pressure/pain. Instead, the staff assumed that my epidural needed a boost and they hit me with a big old dose of numb. Unfortunately, that didn't cut it, and when my doctor came back at 11:15 SOB politely informed him that I was more than likely ready to go. And I was. And they were amazed. I had gone from 5cm to complete in about 40 minutes. Nice.

Since they had given me that huge dose of numb 15 minutes earlier, pushing was a little weird. I was apparently doing it quite effectively, but I couldn't feel a thing from armpits to toes, so I couldn't tell how hard I was working. FYI, I was working pretty hard, 'cause she came out in about 5 minutes. Maybe a total of 5 pushing sessions. And the best part? No tears or episiotomy.

At 11:41am, my little Lucille, all 7 pounds 8 ounces of her, came screaming into the universe. Her apgars were 9 and 9. She wasn't even all blue in the hands and feet like Sam was. Right from the start she was alert and she latched on to the boobie like she had been doing it for years. Nursing has been a dream with this one so far. No thrush, therefore no searing, mind-bending pain. My milk has retained its mystical qualities, packing 11 ounces on Lucy over the course of a single weekend. So far, things at home have been fantastic. I've had a lot of help, though, so I can't take all the credit.

Sam is thriving in the care of his grandparents. They keep giving him cookies and cupcakes and ice cream, so he's started associating his little sister with sweets. He loves to look for the baby when he comes into the room. He runs right over to the bassinet, and if she isn't in there he throws up his arms and cries 'Uh-oh!' This morning he tried to give her a cracker, and when my mother told him she didn't have any teeth, he got very upset. Which was really funny.

All in all, things are going well. She's sleeping as well as can be expected for a newborn. She's a vision to behold. Now we just have to start focusing on the move. I can hardly believe that it's all happening in two weeks. Things are about to get a lot more interesting, that's for sure!

Not Surprised

Ha. My water broke at 3:15am. I should have known this was going to happen!

40 Weeks

Today was my due date. Tomorrow morning we head to the hospital to be induced. Today we spoiled Sam rotten, feeding him french fries and ice cream and giving him presents. I cried almost non-stop. Knowing that today was our last day as a family of three was a bit heartbreaking at moments. All of the moments, really.

Once we're in the recovery area, we'll be online again, so even though I can't live-blog from L&D, I'll be back soon! Until then, I'll leave you with this photo of me in my maternity bathing suit:

Suzanne over at Campaign for Unshaven Snatch (CUSS) and Other Rants has started the Swimsuit Brigade. The intention is to showcase what real women look like in swimsuits, no airbrushing allowed! Plus I wanted to get one final shot of the big pregnant belly. As I said earlier, I spent a good portion of the day weeping, so please forgive the puffy eyes.

The next time I see ya'll, I'll have a new baby! Eeeps!

Bitch Stole My Ball!

Yesterday afternoon, since the temperature was only in the nineties, we took Sam to the pool. We had been away from quite some time due to weather related pregnancy concerns, which is a fancy way of saying it was too damn hot and I was too damn pregnant. (I still am. Just in case I confused you by using the past tense.)

Anyhoodle, I always take one pool toy with us on these outings. One is all I really have the energy to keep track of. Our last name is written across every pool toy in huge black letters because there are a lot of kids around, and while I don't mind sharing while at the pool, I like to ensure that we go home with everything we brought with us. Today we took Sam's ball, which of all the toys is the most clearly labeled. The only thing on the fucker is our name in giant permanent marker. After tossing the ball with Aunt Allison for a while, Sam lost interest and began playing in the fountain. A little girl, perhaps a few months younger than Sammy, saw the ball and started playing with it. I didn't say anything because, as I said, sharing is A-ok in my book. There weren't many people there today (school is back in session!) so I knew it's be easy to keep track of while we played.

I guess her mother interpreted my silence to mean that we hated the ball and never wanted to see it again, because just a few minutes later I see her tucking Sam's ball under her beach chair and then covering the chair with her towel, rendering the ball invisible. There is nothing super special or fancy about the ball, and I believe it cost me $2.99, so I was a little surprised that this mother was even taking the trouble to steal it. Most of the woman at my local YMCA could afford to buy their kids balls that cost $299.

Luckily, at the same moment Sam started calling out for his ball and throwing his little arms up in the air in his 'where did it go?' gesture. I told Aunt Allison I would be right back, and I walked over to the woman and her daughter. When politely asked for our ball back, she blinked hard and then uncovered it and handed it over. She muttered some excuse, with more than a little attitude, about not knowing that it belonged to anyone. I informed her that that is exactly why I write our name on our things. Then I held the ball up with our huge, impossible to ignore name pointed right at her face, held it there for a few seconds and walked away.

I could have made a bigger deal out of this. I could have chastised her for setting such a poor example for her daughter. I could have yelled or caller her names. What do you think? Did I handle this well?

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Question: Any of you having trouble viewing my page lately? I've gotten a few emails from peeps expressing concern that my page doesn't load properly on their computers. Let me know so I can try and fix things! Thanks!

P.S. Today is my due date!

Lactation Anticipation

For the past few nights, I've been dreaming of nothing but breastfeeding. Breastfeeding Sam, breastfeeding the new baby, breastfeeding random babies on the street. My titties are always available for around-the-clock snacking.

Those of you from 'round the way know that I struggled with weaning Sam. Honestly, if I hadn't gotten pregnant again I think we would just now be starting the process. When I was pregnant with him I bought a pump and sterilized dozens of bottled. I planned on nursing initially, but I didn't think I was the type of mom who was going to continue for longer than six months. Ha. Cut to fourteen months later and I'm weeping over Sam's crib after every time I nurse him, fearing it may have been our last session. This time I haven't even washed a bottle, and the pump is still in a box somewhere in the closet.

I've had moments during this pregnancy when I stop and try to be aware of what my body is doing. This is, in all likelihood, my last pregnancy, and I want to try and remember all the moments, good and bad. But I find it difficult, now that I'm nearing the end, to not fixate on the future. All of the things I'm looking forward to once the baby comes.

I can't wait to hold the baby close to my body and feed her. I can't wait to smell her little milky breath when she falls asleep in my arms. To be the one she needs, at least for a while. I'm not foolish enough to imagine that it's going to be all sleeping babies and heavenly peace. I know there will be days (many, many days) that I will be exhausted. I know that I will have nipples cracked and bleeding. There will be days when I ache for someone else to meet her needs.

But maybe when those moments strike, I can come back to this. This moment, these feelings. At least, I hope I can.

My Best Shot Monday: Pretty and Cutsey

You guess which is which!

I look awful, but what do you expect from a 39 week, 5 day pregnant woman at the zoo?

As always, click over to Picture This for a look-e-loo at everyone's best shots!

Home Sweet Home

So I forgot to mention, what with being totally preoccupied with the baby still firmly trapped in my uterus, that we settled on the house this week! We are officially home owners! I own this:


And this:


And most importantly, this:

More than any other thing house related, I cannot wait to soak in this tub. And I will probably do so, at the huge inconvenience of my husband and family, the first night we're there. It's all big and deep and jets! It has jets!

I'm also looking forward to being able to play outside with Sam by simply walking out the door. No elevators, parking lots or cars required to get to some green space. The kid loves to blow bubbles, and the only time we can do so is during bath time. The rest of the time we have to hide the bubbles because if he spies them he tries to throw himself head first into the tub. We're going to buy him one of these, put it in the yard and let him go nuts! And then I'm going to spray him down with the hose in the yard and my life will be perfect.

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By the by, I've been remiss about participating in the blog community lately. If you've noticed, please don't be offended. I am still reading all of my regular blogs, but haven't been able to come up with my any witty, thoughtful nuggets of wisdom to add to the comments. It's because my mind is busy focusing on an image of my cervix opening like a lotus blossom. I hope you'll understand!

The Wait Continues

Ah baby, why won't you come out? I was really hoping that because I want to watch my show tonight you would decide to come out and foil my plans. But, no. I was at the doctor's office this morning and while I am a teensy-weensy bit dilated, the doctor wasn't optimistic. He suggested that I skip scheduling an office visit for next week and instead just plan to be induced on Wednesday morning if I haven't already delivered.

I have wrestled with the idea of inducing before. Both of the doctors I've seen here in Atlanta have offered to schedule and induction the first moment I met them, but I've always been more in favor of letting things happen naturally. My doc in Philly wouldn't even discuss an induction until I was two weeks overdue. Induction is associated with a higher risk of c-section, and anecdotal evidence points to a more intense (aka painful) delivery.

But we're going on our second straight week of near hundred degree temperatures, and there's no end in sight. I am beyond miserable going outside, but I'm getting stir crazy from staying inside all damn day. I keep trying to stay positive. To enjoy what may very well be my last pregnancy.

But the heat, my god, the heat.

Maybe this littler girl is smarter than I'm giving her credit for. Inside of me, it's probably only in the mid-nineties. Once she comes out, she's going to have to deal with this insane weather in person.

A Good Opportunity to Sort Through the Clutter

HBM and mothergoosemouse have both recently dumped the contents of their bags for the enjoyment of the internets, and I figured why not play, too? Plus, it was a perfect excuse to sort through some of the unnecessary items in there and find them a new home. To be honest, I should have also dumped the diaper bag since I stash a ton of my own junk in there, but I'm 39 weeks pregnant and don't have the energy to walk across the room and fetch it, so you only get the purse.

I have a big collection of bags. All but two of them were gifts, just so you know. My mother-in-law is always good for a good bag at Christmas, and SOB takes after his mother, so my birthday is usually celebrated with a new bag as well. Since Sam has been born, I've mostly stuck to this black number. It's smallish, but quite versatile. It has several good interior pockets and pouches and an easy (but secure) magnetic snap.

Despite it's diminutive size, see how much crap I can fit in there?


Besides the requisite cell phone and check book, I have a smaller cream colored purse-like object which I use to contain all of my cards and monies. (That was a gift, too, from my friend Carrie!) I always have several hundred pony tail holders in my bag in case of emergencies. Or pig tails. Since SOB has long hair, too, these usually come in very handy.

For some reason, I carry twelve different kinds of lip goo, even though I rarely use them. I was carrying around four different colors of MAC pro longwear lip stuff. This is the kind of lipwear that never ever comes off. Back when I pregnant with Sam, we would go to the gym after work. I would wash my face and put on a wide headband to keep my hair off of my face. Because the headband covered my hairline, and because my lips were always still darkly colored, SOB joked that if I wasn't pregnant people would think I was in drag. Besides the perma-lipstick, I have one regular lipstick, 2 gloss-type items and an Aveno lip conditioner thingie. After the photo was taken, only the regular lipstick, one gloss and the Aveno stuff went back in.

On the health side of the 'health and beauty' category, I have a bottle of allergy eye drops and a bottle of moisturizing eye drops. Some people (airport security) assume that because I have several types of eye drops that I also have a habit, ahem, that contributes to frequent bloodshot eyes. My bags get searched. A lot. Tucked in there I also have a small bottle of hand sanitizer and a tube of sunblock.

In the 'miscellaneous papers' category I have three appointment cards for my OB. I always forget to trash them once I've been, and since I go every mother loving week now, they are accumulating quickly. The folded piece of paper in there is my pick-up slip for Sam's most recent photos. I took him for the 18 month shots a little early just in case Numero Dos decided to show up early, but she's apparently on lock down. There's a $10 Babies-R-Us gift card that I scored with a coupon which I am going to use, in conjunction with another coupon, to buy a new baby monitor. Because I'm crazy like that and need a monitor for each baby.

And finally I have two pens. These are my favorite pens, and it took me a while to decide on them. One is my favorite because it is, quite simply, a quality pen. SOB gets a gillion pens every day from different drug reps, and most of them are crap. The silver DepoDur pen in front might be the best pen I've ever used. I'm even thinking about refilling it when the ink runs dry. The white pen up near the bag is from one of my favorite places on the planet. It doesn't write very well, but it gives me a warm and tingly feeling when I see it. And in a pinch, I can write a check with it.

So that's it. Nothing scandalous. I don't even have any embarrassing feminine hygiene products because I've been pregnant for the last decade and a half. So now it's your turn! Let the world know what's in your bag. I love a good opportunity to snoop without shame!

Getting To Know You, Getting To Know All About You

Last night before bed, I had to pee. Big surprise. All of us adults were downstairs, so I just traipsed around the corner to the powder room. Well, I got hit with a contraction on the way, which effectively squeezes my bladder like a sponge. In my haste to get to the potty before I peed my pants, I didn't close the bathroom door all the way. The door itself was closed, but it hadn't latched, so as I was voiding my bladder, it started to swing open. Because I didn't wait SSIL to happen upon me as I sat on the throne, I called out 'I am accidentally peeing with the door open!' Well, SSIL and SOB found this to be the height of hilarity, and once they started giggling I started, too. Then I couldn't stop. I was honestly thinking that I might laugh so hard my water might break. At least I was hoping.

Alas, my bag of waters remained intact. But SSIL and I now have reached a new place in our relationship. Which is nice considering how often she's going to be seeing my boobs in just a few more days!

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Speaking of, my due date is in ONE WEEK! Sam was born four days before his due date, but I'm hoping that my little lady will beat out her big brother in this category. I've been throwing pennies in fountains, crossing my fingers, etc. but with no luck. Any suggestions, dear Internets?

Nine...

As my due date approaches, many of the emotional conflicts I had when I first found out I was pregnant are rearing their ugly heads again. Namely, I'm sad that my days alone with my baby boy are coming to an end. Complicating matters is the fact that Sam has chosen now, of all times, to cut more molars and act like an absolute pain in the ass 96% of the time.

In my mind, I had envisioned us snuggling on the couch and reading books while sun beams streamed in through the window. Instead every time I pull him close I get smacked in the eye. I imagined sharing snacks and singing nursery rhymes. Instead of sharing, Sam throws food at my head. Instead of singing we both end up sobbing. After he had refused three separate breakfasts today, and I mean refused them in a way that you would have thought I was trying to feed him cow dung, I ran upstairs and collapsed on a still snoozing SOB.

What were we thinking? If I can't even handle one child, for a scant 45 minutes, how on earth am I supposed to handle two? What will become of my sanity? I know that others have done it before me, but no one that I know personally had done this recently. With my mother-in-law in one ear telling me how SOB tried to try and poke his baby sister's eyes out, and my mother in the other telling me how I refused to smile in any picture that included my baby brother, I'm starting to think that this isn't going to be easy.

And I'm feeling like a shitty mother. Both to Sam and to the girl who hasn't even shown her face yet. I know, deep down that I'm not, but when I ask for a kiss and all I get in return is a violent head shake, I can't help but feel like he's trying to tell me something. SOB and SSIL are both finding Sam difficult to deal with, so it's not just me. But mix in the hormones and the guilt over time spent being angry at him instead of being lovey with him and you can imagine how I might make the leap to thinking that I'm a bad mommy.

To help, sometimes I sneak into his room at night and watch him sleep. When he's curled up and I can hear his little breath moving in and out, any anger that might have been building up just melts away. I remind myself that he's a toddler. He can't comprehend why his teeth hurt. When he chucks his cup at me, it's much more likely that he's upset about the throbbing in his gums and not because he thinks I'm an awful beast of a woman. Luckily I've been able to find these moments and hold onto them. I strongly suggest doing this. It's nearly impossible to be upset around a sleeping child.

And then I think to myself thank god newborns sleep a lot.

Tempting Fate

No, I haven't had a baby yet.

Despite my silence the past few days, little baby girl is still firmly in utero. This past week has been unusual, to say the least. SOB was home every day. He worked in the evenings on Monday and Wednesday, but he otherwise spent his time chillaxing at home with me, Sam and SSIL. Plus we had the new addition of SSIL. There was some time spent getting acquainted and getting into the swing of things. Sam is madly in love with SSIL, and has decided to reserve most, if not all, of his kisses, for her. Which I'm trying not to cry about.

We went out to dinner and a movie last night. In a double dog dare to fate, we went to a fairly long movie (Harry Potter) and then had dinner at the same place we went on our date back in December. Unfortunately fate wasn't interested.

In the family baby pool, I picked tomorrow's date, so keep your fingers crossed for me, ok?

Taking Aim

When I was in fifth grade, I begged my father to help organize a softball league. Some other girls my age were working on their dads as well, so by the summer time, we had enough coaches and 10 year old females for five teams. My dad ended up being the coach of my team, so I got to be the pitcher. The other pitcher was the other coach's daughter.

Throughout the course of three seasons, our team won only a single game. I won't say we won by default, but our opposition had only the bare minimum of players available. Our losses, in large part, we due to my poor skills as a pitcher. I walked in more runs than should be allowed by softball law. The other pitcher was only slightly better than I was, and the league never gained much popularity, so there wasn't any new 'talent' coming in. By the end of the third season, with a record of 1 and 35, I hung up my mitt.

I tell you all of this to set the mood for my present day story.

My car has been doing this funny thing. I have a computerized display, and for the last two weeks it has been locked on the 'travel time' display. Did you know that I've been driving my car for 90 hours and 47 minutes? I know that once I have this baby I'm not going to have the time (or the desire) to take my car to the dealership, so we scheduled the appointment for yesterday.

We dropped the car off in the morning, and after several hours, they called to inform us that a part would need to be ordered from Germany (damn VW). We could come pick the car up unless we wanted to leave it for a week. No car for a week is not an option, so SOB and I left Sam in the capable hands of super-sister-in-law (SSIL) Allison and headed out to retrieve my wagon.

On the ride home, SOB decided he was going to stop at the grocery store to pick up some dinner items so he called to ask me if I had any requests. I didn't, but I told him that I would ask SSIL when I got home and call him if she had any specific food demands. His phone was dying, though, and he didn't have his charger, he lamented. We were driving side by side at the moment, and as luck would have it, approaching a light that was just about to turn red. He pulled his car really close to mine and rolled down his window. I rolled down mine as well, and when we stopped he told me to throw my (fully charged) phone over to him so that I could call him at the store later. If I had taken more than a few seconds to think about it, I probably could have put the car in park and leaned over far enough to hand him my phone, but instead, I lobbed it, backhanded, with my left hand (I'm right handed) towards his open passenger side window.

Neither of us were surprised when it bounced off of the top of the window frame and fell to the pavement.

Seriously?

Edited below!

On Tuesday evening, the condo association here at our shitty building put up signs to let us all know that the elevator would be closed for repairs from Wednesday morning until Friday morning.

Can you even imagine how deliriously happy this made me? Now when I come home, I have to park my car behind the building, walk around to one of the other entrances (which are uphill, by the way. And I don't even mean that in a jokey 'I'm old, listen to me spin a yarn' kind of way.) and then climb the stairs to the third floor. Usually with Sam, who can't do steps on his own yet. And all of his associated gear.

Add into the mix that I have a cold and can barely breath as it is without the climbing of the many, many stairs with toddler in arms. And that SOB was just forced to switch calls at work, so that he's on call tonight, when we have a date and a sitter lined up. And that my appointment at the OB's office was terrifically late, making me miss breakfast at McD's by mere moments and thus thawarting any chance I had of satisfying my egg mcmuffin craving.

I'm so much fun to be around right now. Here, enjoy this photo of Sam entranced by bubbles at Little Gym.

Updated to add: Thank the sweet lord and baby Jesus they re-opened the elevator just before we got home. Today's high is 97 with a chance of 'don't go outside or your face might melt right the fuck off' and our hallways/stairways aren't air conditioned. I almost kissed the toothless maintenance man when he gave us the news.

Just Call Me Sausage Fingers

I am officially so swollen in the hands that I can't wear my rings anymore. Strangely, my feet haven't expanded much yet. I still have three weeks, though, so the plumping potential is still quite high.

Now somebody run and get me a salt shaker, stat!

Seventeen

Today is Sam's seventeen month birthday. SOB was around during the day, so we took the tot to the Little Jumping Bean for some inflatable fun. (Get your mind out of the gutters.)


And then I freaked out on the way home. Because if Sam is seventeen months old, then Numero Dos is due in ONE MONTH.

I am so not ready for this.

When It Rains, Part Two...

Remember earlier when I was complaining about my palms of fire? Well, I figured out a bang up way to distract myself from the horrible horrible burning!

Wait for it...

I sliced off the side of my index finger.

You see, I was trying to make myself a delightful continental lunch, consisting of a few nibbles of cheese along with some baguette. SOB bought some yummy cheeses yesterday at Whole Foods and I, as you know, love all things made from fermented dairy.

While I was getting the cheese out of the refrigerator, I suddenly remembered that hiding somewhere in there was a scrum-diddily-umptious piece of gruyère. I managed to unearth it, and found it to be in relatively good condition. There were, however, a few suspicious specks along the broad side of the block. No big deal, I though, I'll just shave that side of the block off with my trusty ten inch Henkel's chef's knife. (Seriously, this is the greatest knife ever. One day I will write a post entirely dedicated to singing its praise.) As I was making my first pass, I had a fleeting thought that this might not be the safest idea. You see, the knife, she is one sharp mother fucker. But I pride myself on my not-too-shabby knife skills, so I thought I would be fine. A second pass was necessary to remove all the suspicious bits, and as I was gently sliding the knife through the cheese, I slipped.

And the knife?

Slid gently through my finger.

In the worst possible place ever. Right along the first knuckle. And because I'm pregnant? I have buckets of extra blood, all of which decided to exit my body through that finger.

Now here comes the really, truly crazy part.

Even though I was freaking out a little and bleeding a lot, I decided it would be so much fun to photograph my disgusting, mangled finger. So I did. And then I made my first .mac web page!

So if you have a strong stomach and are not currently eating something, click HERE to see my bloody finger in all its repulsive glory!

Don't say I didn't warn you. Both about the blood and about me being crazy!

Drinking the Kool-Aid

New computer + slightly sick = no blogging!

Just kidding. I'm here my darlings! Just not at my usual speed.

In the past, getting a new computer only meant un-installing all the junk they came with that you didn't want. Switching from pc to mac, I have to learn a whole new way of life. It's like changing religions or something. I keep hitting 'control A' instead of 'apple A' and whatnot. Here's a question for all of you apple users out there: what is the deal with the the whole 'no right click' thing? For example, on my (busted and crapulent) pc, if I misspelled a word, it would be underlined in red. Then I would simply right click and a list of suggested corrections would appear. Well, I still get the red underline when I misspell something, but I don't know what to do to make the list of corrections appear. Help!

On to bigger and better things!

Guess what? This baby is due in seven weeks. I'm pulling for five weeks and three days, if you must know, but I don't think I get much of a say. My sister-in-law is coming to stay with us starting Monday August sixth, so by my reckoning on Friday the tenth Sam and his Auntie Allison should be thick as thieves. That opens the door for me to go into labor, have the baby sometime Friday evening, and come home Sunday. My folks will come to visit when she's two weeks old and my in-laws will come the week after that. And everything will be hunky doory! I'm such a good little planner.

As for the sick I mentioned earlier, it's no big deal. Last week when Sam was all cranky and running with snot, I simply attributed it to the seventeen teeth he's currently cutting. Turns out I was only half right. Well, in all the cuddling we did, he managed to get a fair amount of the afore mentioned snot on me, and all the little germs weaseled their way into my system and now I have a head full of clogged holes. Last night I went to bed so early that when I asked SOB to turn off the light, he informed me that the light I was seeing was actually sunlight, and that turning it off would destroy mankind as we know it. I told him that it was ok to leave it on then, if it was to save mankind.

I'm nice like that.

Little Girl...

Every day brings us closer to the moment when we first lay eyes upon each other.

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Visit Picture This to see everyone's best shot from last week!