Two Weeks, Two Days...

I haven't posted since we took our little trip. Wow, how things have changed. I am bigger of course, and I am feeling it. Some days are better than others. Compared to a lot of other pregnant women, I still feel like I am lucky to feel the way I do, but the cramping, pelvic pain, fatigue, and especially acid reflux are in full swing!

Let me go back in time. The lovelies in my family threw a wonderful shower on the 14th, on a great day, we got lucky with weather.
The shower was super nice, I only wish I had more time to spend with everyone. The damn gift giving took forever! It sucks watching someone open presents, and it sucks being the one to open them, because everyone is watching, and yelling at you to hurry up or slow down so they can see. It must have taken two hours to open all of the gifts. They took up half the baby's room! When I finally decided to go through them all last week, it took me about four hours to separate, make piles, etc.


On Saturday, we went to Babies R Us, to finish up the essential list of things like monitors, music, breast friends and crap like that. It was relatively painless. They reorganized the store to be very easily shopped. I used to walk in there and get the dry heaves when buying for others, so it was a relief to see them clean up their act. We have everything stock piled throughout the house. So, if it's a bath she needs, third floor. Breast milk storage, nip covers, bottles, my office/linen closet. Oh, you want to play do you? Basement kid!

The baby's room is actually a nice size, but the flokati rug we got may backfire, as it's fur has gotten everywhere. Whenever anyone comes out of there, they look like the abominable snowman. Plus, Filo has pissed and shit in there a few times to mark his territory, so I've already had to scrub it, and give it a haircut. So, not sure how much activity will be happening on the floor in that room. Pics of the nursery to come, when we get everything else hung. Hopefully that all happens soon, I just want the room done, even if she doesn't sleep in it for a while!

Now, we just need to pop the kiddie seat in (easier said than done), get the stroller (due in this week, fingers crossed), and have the baby. had a dream the other night that her head was that of a 75 year old man. She didn't just look old like some babies do, she had an old man's face. That'll be our luck...we have a 75-year old baby.

The Final Countdown

In the profound words of Europe: "I guess there is no one to blame, we're leaving ground. Will things ever be the same again? Its the final countdown..." Even though they're talking about going into space, and I'm about to pop out a kid, the countdown is on nonetheless.

So, it's been a while. Last I wrote, my biggest issue was memory. Now it's my fat belly. Wow, how a few weeks can change you. I am finally feeling the effects of this kid on my bladder, and organs, and night time sleep is a challenge of pillow arranging, propping, deep breathing, and the like. I might as well build a mote around me, that's how sequestered I am in the bed.

Walking Filo is another challenge. This week has been cooler but last week was oppressive heat. Just trying to make it around the block is like running a half marathon (not a full one yet!). Plus, I look like Samantha Jones in that episode of Sex and the City when she speaks at the cancer dinner, and she's sweating profusely. It sounds crazy, but I often put my head in the freezer after the walk for a quick cool.

Trent and I took a mini tour of the East two weeks ago which was fun. We were up in Jersey for a wedding, then went down to the beach for two days. We stayed in Lewes, DE which was so nice, and so relaxing. It felt like two weeks, even though it was only two days. We could have stayed and done nothing forever. I will share photos from there, even though I look like a bloated whale in all of them. We had great meals, bought a few cool things at the local antique shops, and even met a local photographer who hand delivered a photo to us (for purchase) that we saw in the lobby of our hotel.

The hotel we stayed in was really nice, and quiet. Luckily no one was really at the pool, so we had it to ourselves (another saving grace for me parading around in my maternity suit). There was one couple who was at the pool for a bit with us, who we also saw in the halls every time we left, ate in the same restaurants as us both nights we were there, and were also at the liquor store at the same time. Trent thought the guy was a terrorist and was enjoying his last hurrah before drinking it up and doing something stupid, but I think he was harmless.

We headed back to OC for a day or so for the 4th, so Judy (Trent's Mom) could whoop it up for a night with her new beau! She's a hot number, so we had to give her a chance for some fireworks that day, literally.

Now, it's baby shower time, and the whole crew from NJ is headed down. We roped my parents into doing the wallpaper in the bean's room, so that was a huge help. If it were left to Trent and me to do it, I have a feeling the kid would have a blank wall for a while. They are also perfectionists in their wallpapering, and Trent and I just slap it up any way that takes the least amount of time. So, for the little one, it's probably best we had the experts do it. The inset pic is our painting day, and let me go on record to acknowledge it as Trent's best paint job. A+ honey, A+.

Burning Down the House

As the months progress, my forgetfulness and confusion thicken. Last week, two girls (Missy and Chollada)from the west coast office spent the week here in Baltimore. My only responsibility on Friday night was to drive them to the train station to catch their evening train to NYC.

Well, the trip started off with me taking the wrong exit, and having to u-turn all the way around after a short stint in the complete shit of Baltimore (as in, were you in the shit in Vietnam?). Now, with Baltimore recently being named the second deadliest city in the U.S., you can understand why I wouldn't want to spend much time on the wrong side of highway. The girls had dealt with my cluelessness all week, so this was nothing different.

Upon finally arriving at the train station, I pull into the designated drop-off area, and quickly jump out to help unload the luggage. I had Trent's car because he took mine to drive friends to the U.S. Open. So, I can't figure out how to open the hatch, and I keep pressing the unlock button (thinking there is only one button to both lock/unlock the car). Not thinking, I press lock, and shut the door. How this 2007 Audi allows you to lock the doors with the keys in the ignition is still a mystery, but it did indeed allow me to lock my keys, purse, cell phone, and all the girl's luggage in the vehicle. Shit.

I take the advice of the drunk cab driver behind us, and alert the train police. He grabs a slim jim, and I think our problems are solved. Well, he would have to rip all the rubber weather coating to get in, and even then couldn't guarantee the unlocking of an electronic lock. Shit.

After many minutes of contemplation, I realize we have spare keys at our house. With my keys locked in the car, we know our next task is to get home, and break into the house. So, I leave the cop to watch my car as well as Missy as collateral. We use the $21 Chollada has in her purse to get a cab to our house, and flee the cab quickly since we pretty much stiffed him on the tip.

I go to Ryan and Leslie's house (friends that live across the street) to access our spare key. Eureka!
No. None of the spare keys they have fit in our door. As Ryan travels back and forth trying keys, Cho and I are thinking. The night before I had shut and locked the front windows, but luckily, in my stupidity, I didn't lock the smaller side windows.

So, we could actually open the windows with no problem. The issue was, these are small windows. Cho and I rock, paper, scissorsed it to decide who would crawl in. (Actually she completely volunteered, but it sounds better the other way). Then, we try to negotiate what position is best to go in: head first or feet first. I end up insisting she go head first. As she slithered through, I'm holding her ankles, and Filo is at the other end wagging away, and licking her face. Nice guard dog. He barks at neighbors closing their doors ten doors down, but openly welcomes any intruder.

I find the spare keys, and we're ready to return to the city to save the day. I now have to proposition Ryan to drive us there. He and his son Collin selflessly conceded, and we were on our way. When we got there, they had changed the whole traffic pattern getting in since my car was basically blocking any incoming traffic. There were barricades, cones, you name it.

I popped out, and sucked up to the cop once again, who actually couldn't have been nicer. I felt as if I gave him a significant case to oversee since I don't think they get much action at the train station. He seemed proud as a peacock to be in charge of the whole mess. I thought about tipping him, but wasn't sure if that was legal.

The girls missed their train, but luckily got on another without issue. I immediately went home to end the fiasco. Then, proceeded to leave the burner of the stove on from that night through about 5:00 the next day. Trent came home to find it on. At least it was only on simmer!

Other than the normal brain issues this week, I've only managed to burn a bag of microwave popcorn to complete oblivion in the office. It sent billows of yellow smoke throughout the kitchen, and down the halls of the building. The microwave itself was completely yellow, and looked like it got a good dose of radiation. It would have only topped the cake if the fire sprinklers went off. Good times.

Childbirth Class

So, in about 30 minutes, I leave for my second childbirth class. The first week, Nikki had to stand in as my lover, and I must say, she made quite a partner. Water and snacks were provided to me throughout class, she came with her own pillow, and she even rubbed my face and breathed with me like all the other good husbands.

Of course we were the peanut gallery through the whole thing, since the diagrams they show of my enormous 10cm cervix, the fabric uterus they use for demos, and the baby that is stored inside are all worthy of a chuckle.

Trent was away, and unable to attend, and I am unsure if he will be on time this week since he is stuck in traffic on the way back from Northern VA. I'll have to convince these people that I actually do have a husband. Since my memory has turned to complete mush, I'm a little fearful of what my recall will be on go day. Luckily, Nikki logged and sent complete notes from the first class, so at least we have that.

In other news, I've officially popped! My stomach is so big. It looks like a bowling ball, and at this point, I'd rather not go anywhere, since everyone keeps telling me how big I've gotten. Luckily, not much else has swelled up, but still, when you haven't seen people in a while, they're stunned by your size. I have also started feeling the true effects of pregnancy. I will say, with all of my banter on this thing, I've still had it easy. No major complaints, no sickness, no discomfort.

However, this week, I'm felling everything catch up to me much faster. I feel more fatigued (not sleepy though, unfortunately), and clumsy, and my memory is failing. I've also been having a lot more trouble standing up for long periods of time, and bending over is near impossible. Everything folds on top of itself. My boobs are so big, that they get in the way of the bending, and it's a whole mess. I have also been able to hop in and out of bed, and that has turned into the pivot legs, swing off to side, then slide off bed technique.

Today, I tried tightening Filo's leash, and it took ten minutes. First I tried to bend over and do it, then I sat on the floor, then I started sweating, so I was getting flushed and lightheaded...finally, I got up, and he walked with a loose fit.

Lastly, this bean took a while to start kicking around, now it's an all day affair. There are all kinds of fists and heads rolling out of my belly. At bedtime, I pull up my shirt, and have Trent watch as my stomach turns into a circus. My, how things have changed.

All in all, I'm still feeling very good, and I am blessed for that, but I'm starting to get a little perspective into the limits of being pregnant. It only took seven and a half months!

Stab Wound

For any of you still paying attention to this thing, I do apologize for not posting lately. It's been busy at work, and I've been rushing home to do all things invitation.

Things have still been going well, but the belly is flying out in all directions. I have the brown line, and peach fuzz is forming around it. I have inserted a few pics of my ever growingness.

I'm as confused about everything as usual, but I've been having the experts like Helen and Lee do the once over on my registries to ensure I have all the gear.

We've also taken the plunge into the baby's room. I am having a lot of issues deciding what to do, which is why my sister Tracey had to come down, assess in the way of decorating. Since I am really bad about formulating ideas, we needed her to make those ideas a reality. She said get this, do that, paint this, don't put that up, and we're at least on our way. Paint is arriving today, the 1,000 piece crib is laying all over our once guest room, and baby clothes, onesies, and receiving blankets have formed an AIDS-esque size quilt in the room.

In other news, a few of you may know I had a little incident yesterday. I came into work early to cut address labels. This requires a cutting mat, and a sharp Xacto knife. I was standing and cutting, and made a long, quick cut that caused the knife to slip off the end of the table. My large belly was in the way, and I noticed a slit in my new shirt! Then I felt a stinging. Yep, I had sliced open the belly! It was a really small cut, but clean, and really open (probably from my already pulled skin). I got scared because there was initially a lot of blood, and the thing was just so open. I frantically called Trent, and he jumped in the car and came over. I'm sure getting a call from your pregnant wife that she just cut open her stomach isn't the most pleasant to get.

I wasn't sure what to do because it wasn't awful, but it wasn't band-aid worthy either. So, we call the OB just to check about infection. She wants nothing to do with us, and said call your GP. We call them, and they say come over right away. We bust up there, and the doc says, yep you're gonna need that stitched up. So, we head down to Urgent Care. Of course, everyone knows I'm pregs, so they're swarming like bees to ensure I'm ok, which was nice. Once they found out I was fine, and it was self-inflicted, I had to wait with the rest of the shlubs.
Then I had to look at a screen and point yes/no as to whether Trent did this, or if I'm afraid of him. Yipes. Like, uh, yes, my husband tried to kill me and our baby with a half inch slit to the stomach.

After talking to the admitting nurse, who was a total freak, we waited around with all the other freaks in the waiting area. A few were yelling stuff out loud, some were in really bad shape, one lady with hospital scrubs on was crying. Then, one guy was shackled, with two fully armed cops with him. Trent said the guy gave him the stink eye...the evil eye, but who knows. He probably ended up there from a cut to the gulliver with a sharpened butter knife by another guy (with tattoos he got with pen ink while in the clink). This is typically how is goes.

Anyway, I was in. Everyone was intrigued by my story, and I'm the star of the ER. They're also all trying to figure out the best way to stitch up a pregnant belly. I heard the nurse telling the PA (Physician's Assistant) what happened, then I hear, "She's pregnant too?" The PA finally comes in, as if he didn't just judge me, and explores for a few more minutes for the best sewing scenario.

First things first, a tetanus shot, which still burns today. Then, he numbs me up, and washes practically my entire damn body with bactine. He was pouring it from what seemed like three feet up in the air onto my belly, and it's rolling down behind me, down my $275 Paige jeans, and all over my new, recently slit top. Honestly, I've never had one, but this is what I pictured as a golden shower. Not to mention these are low jeans, so half my ass, and my waist ass (the part of my butt that has moved up to show in my non-existent waist) is in his face. What a thrill for him. He threaded me up with three stitches, and I was repaired.

Now, all I need to do is keep it dry and covered. He suggested I wrap myself in plastic wrap before my shower. I chose instead to see how I could keep my from the water this morning. It worked before I washed my hair, then water rolled to the front from my neck. So, I may have to try his approach tomorrow, or start sponging. Sweet.

Inset are pictures of the wound from the top, and me pointing at the scene of the crime. Geez, my belly looks really huge in that one. Could it be the angle?
Enjoy.

Aren't Pregnant Women Supposed to Rest?

Well, what a week and a half. I don't know why I take time off (two days), because I am only swamped with work and catch-up when I return. We have a huge project going live at work, and it has slowly unraveled into a disaster through today, it's launch date. Since I feel like I haven't left my desk in about 1,000 hours, I am writing in the blog to relax me for 15 minutes while IMs and emails of stress, fatigue, and frustration come in for me to conquer. Thankfully, I have a great PM working with me on this with me, but when things aren't going well, we all wanna take a poop in the shower (for those of you who watch the Sopranos). I never take lunch, leave my desk, or do much else but multi-task during my work day, but this, combined with my decreased pain threshold have worn me out. I feel like I'm 85. My back aches, my ankles are stiff and swelling, my nose bleeds every day, and I have the beginning stages of carpal tunnel.

In addition to my full-time job, my other full-time job Fold Invites has offered me additional back breaking work. In typical fashion, my printers have all screwed me, and left me to do the bulk of work myself for address labels. After four hours of normalizing address data, I had to create a comma delimited file for the printer, which took another four or so hours. After all this, my jacko printer tells me they don't think they can print the label properly. It took her two weeks to let me know this. So, this Saturday I had to copy/paste 200 addresses into Illustrator, print them, and cut each one by hand. The bending over to leverage the blade for so many hours killed me. I walked, talked, and looked like Lotney 'Sloth' Fratelli from the Goonies until Sunday.

Sunday night, I allowed Trent to join in the fun and put the labels on the 200 envelopes. I went to the post office Monday to ask if they could meter the envelopes, so I wouldn't have to stamp them, and they simply told me no. Three stamps were required for both the outer and RSVP envelope! So, we had to stamp 400 envelopes with three stamps each last night. I was already delirious by the time I got the the first envelope (at around 10:00 after working on the godforsaken project from above)! I put the first 10 stamps on upside down. After the stamping, we had to stuff them all. I had the privilege of sealing them all this morning before starting work. Then, I had the intern take them to USPS where the woman tried to jive talk her way out of hand canceling them. She put a big sign on them "Hand Cancel" for the night crew. I can just see that staff of night crawlers carefully hand canceling them this evening with kid gloves.

Other than staying up all hours, flying every other weekend, working my gnarled fingers to a pulp, and suffering excruciating back pain, I think I'm doing pretty well. I'm really trying to take care of myself during pregnancy.

Speaking of which, and this will be my last rant for this post, I went to my prenatal yoga class last Thursday (where I hate everyone), and I have to tell you, it sucks taking yoga with every slob that signs up at the hospital. First of all, yoga is literally my only time to truly relax, breathe, and go inside myself. It may sound all yogied out, but it is true. Typically things like showing up 15-30 minutes late, barging into class and making a raucous, making loud comments about how hard postures are, and wearing nude pantyhose under jeans as your workout outfit are looked upon negatively in yoga studios. But when you take yoga at GBMC, anything goes.

I walked in last week to two girls talking about how miserable it is to have a girl, and how disappointed the one is that she's having one. I ignore them, but they go on to say how difficult girls are as babies, and what a drag it will be. I turned around, and looked the speaker right in her disgusting face, and gave her the worst crook eye I could give. Then I slammed my mat on the floor and sat quietly in my space like good students do. The class was hard, and the teacher warned us she would be pushing our bodies to a place that would prepare us for labor (going past your threshold). We had to do a sort of stationary jumping jack thing that got quicker over each minute (three mins total). It was tough, but not that tough. None of these girls even tried. They gave up, even after the teacher was like, whatever you do don't stop. All but me and one other stopped. They were hootin and hollerin about the burn, the pain, etc. and they're all about 16 weeks. Whatever. I hate them all. To add insult to injury, another girl complained for about ten minutes how late the class is offered. That she has to come home from work at 5:00 (on the dot no doubt), eat dinner, digest, then motivate herself to go back out to class at 7:15. (Many girls complain how full they are when they arrive at class too, because they've eaten dinner right before. I'm usually refluxing the 1 oz. package of almonds I eat on my way up there throughout the entire class).
She was going on and on how inconvenient it is, and how much it impedes her schedule. Meanwhile, I had to drive 90 miles an hour up 695 from work to make it there on time. I "try" to leave work early on Thursdays to just make it on time. It's truly the only class I have ever been able to take for this reason. I'm sorry to say I didn't feel so bad for the ingrates who's digestive schedules are interrupted by class.

Rant over. Seacrest out.

Mole Prone

Yes, I am Italian, and with that comes moles. My whole family is covered in birth marks and moles. I am no exception.

However, since I have become pregnant, I have been sprouting "age and wisdom" spots all over. So, this morning, I went to the derm, and he checked me out. Luckily, nothing is skin cancer worthy, so I'm good there, but I have an assortment of flat, raised, red, brown things all over me. Recently I grew a larger, flaky type one right in the middle of my chest which I originally thought was a smear from a Berger cookie, but turns out it's a temporary birth mark. He decides to take it off. He leaves for a moment, and comes back into the room with a can of liquid nitrogen, and immediately starts spraying it on the mark. No warning. It still burns like hell, but some time today it's supposed to literally flake off. So, my mole may end up somewhere on my office floor. Maybe I should save it, and put it in the baby's scrap book!

I also have a raised mole on my belly that has grown to three times it's size since my pregnancy. He said I could wait on that one until (and these are his words) my bra gets caught on it, rips it off, and it bleeds. He assured me this wouldn't harm me or the baby. I was like, shouldn't we just numb and slice it instead? For some reason he felt better waiting (probably to get me in again). Whatever. I will just continue nicking it with my rings as I lather lotion all over myself. Other than that, he just checked out my legs, and felt my boobs a bit, which is always nice, and I was out in five minutes.

We're headed to Vegas this weekend with Frank and Di, and my godmother Ro, so I'll be spending it in as much shade as possible. You'll find me parked at the craps table losing on the Come bet as usual.