June 2004

Tuesday, June 29

I'm back from seeing my new doctor. He was really great. He impressed both of us with his general knowledge, his rational way of explaining things, and his sense of humor. I enjoyed meeting him immensely. He is older than my previous OB, and had a lot more information to share. He gave us all kinds of demonstrations and information about previas, and he asked me several times if I had any questions. Any question I did have, he answered thoroughly and with patience. He reviewed my medical records from my other OB, discussed previas, did a quick exam, felt and measured the baby, listened to the heartbeat, checked out my mysterious pains, and scheduled me for an ultrasound. He made a follow-up exam in 2 weeks, and will see me weekly after that. Interestingly enough, by the time my next appointment with my old OB rolls around, I will have seen the new OB 3 times already, as well as had an ultrasound at a fetal clinic. He was definitely curious and disapproving about the way my previous OB was doing things, so I felt justified in my decision to move. As he was leaving, he told me that they were sending my urine off-site for testing (TMI), because according to my previous OB's notes, I've had a bacterial infection for a few months now. Well, this was news to me! It was never mentioned, addressed, or treated, but it was in my chart. Also, my blood type was wrong in my chart, unless it's changed since I last donated blood. Anyway, I'm thrilled that we decided to change offices. I think we did the right thing. And I can't wait until my ultrasound this Friday, to find out if the previa has moved, and to see the baby again, of course.

And as for my mysterious and horrible pains, he thinks they are muscle spasms. He recommended a maternity belt, which he so attractively described as a "bra for your abdomen!" Just what every girl wants to wear, a second bra! But he noted that my abdominal muscles are still loose, and not able to hold the weight of the baby, hence the pains in my sides and ribs (which I though was my appendix exploding on Friday). All women go through the loosening of the muscles thing, but I guess since my pregnancies are so close together, I'm especially prone to muscle spasms. Nice.

So that was my visit. I'll be going to my ultrasound Friday afternoon, and back to the OB on July 13th. All in all, I was pleased. Plus Keith and I went out for Mexican afterwards, so that was double nice.

Last night we put the finishing touches on Owen's room. We hung all the pictures and shelves on the wall. It looks very good. Owen was impressed with Keith's hammering. "Daddy loud!" he said, and then, "Daddy hitting!" I told him that Daddy was hammering, not hitting. He immediately picked up the term, and remembered it all night. "Daddy hammering," he kept reminding me. He is so smart. And he's told me so on more than one occasion. "Owen smart. Owen very smart." Perhaps we tell him that too much.

Monday, June 28

Isn't it strange how you can wait and wait for your birthday, and then it comes and goes, and you're another year older, and you hardly knew it passed? I guess the anticipation is a hang-around from my younger days when birthdays were celebrated with much fanfare. Now low-key dinners are more our style, and cards and gifts come in from family, but no big parties or cake or candles (although my husband did put a match in my cake and lit it this year, since he couldn't find any candles). I'm more excited about Owen's birthday than my own nowadays. Such is parenting.

We had a nice weekend, Owen and me. Keith worked all day, both days. So on Saturday, Owen and I cleaned house, did laundry, and baked Daddy chocolate-chip cookies. Owen helped stir, and he learned what a teaspoon was. He sat up on the counter with me, and while I scooped dough onto the cookie sheet, he snatched chocolate chips out of the dough. He got several before I caught him, chocolate-streaked and looking guilty. "No more," he told me. But as soon as I looked away, he stuck his little sticky hand back in and grabbed more. After the cookies were done, we sat at the table (he sat in Daddy's chair, which was a huge event for him) and ate warm cookies and milk. Then we wrapped up the rest of the cookies, and he got ready to give them to Keith. He stood at his bedroom window with the Tupperware of cookies, saying, "Daddy, where are you?" The sad part was, Keith was late coming home, and Owen had to take a nap before Keith got home (he had a meltdown, or I would have allowed him to stay up). So Keith came home after Owen was asleep. But the first thing out of Owen's mouth when he woke up was "Cookies Daddy!" And Keith made the appropriate excited noises and gave hugs and kisses and accolades, even though he already ate some of the cookies.

After that, we ate dinner and drove to the big mall to look for a nursing gown for the hospital and a coming home outfit for Baby. It was short-lived, though, because I was having terrible pains and couldn't walk. I did manage to buy a bag of Buttered Popcorn Jelly Bellys, and a bag of chocolates at the candy store (the $8/pound kind!). I bought Chocolate Gummy Bears, which I thought were chocolates in the shape of Gummy Bears. I bit into one in the mall, and it was an actual Gummy Bear dipped in chocolate! I hate Gummy Bears so much. I spit it out and got all upset that I bought the wrong candy (they were expensive, okay?), and I started crying right there in Hecht's, with Keith looking at me like I had three heads. "Feeling emotional?" he asked, and I felt silly, but still wanted to cry over the stupid Gummy Bears. Luckily Keith managed to eat all of them before we even got home, so I didn't have to look at them anymore, or I probably would have cried some more.

Sunday was more of the same. Owen and I played blocks and did some more laundry, and then we went to Wal-Mart for some minor shopping. We didn't stay long, because the same pains came back (will have to ask doctor about pains tomorrow), but we did buy him a little pool. I filled it up while he napped, and we went right out after he woke up. He was so excited. We played out there for over an hour, and he still threw a fit when we went inside for dinner. The water was cold, but felt great. I just sat there and stayed cool in the water while he splashed around and we played little water games. Definitely a well-spent $9. When Keith came home, Owen dragged him out back saying, "Swimming cool! Swimming cool!" He wanted to get back in, and threw another fit when he couldn't. It was, after all, almost 8PM and he was dressed for bed.

So that was our weekend. Not much of anything exciting, but fun times. Keith is off all week until Friday, so I'll get to spend every evening with my little family. I see more swimming in our near future. Plus a doctor's appointment and a hair appointment tomorrow. Busy!

Thursday, June 24

Blech, is the baby squishing my stomach today? I ate my normal lunch, and now I feel like I'm going to throw it all up. I am so stuffed. How can a sandwich do this to me? It's like I stuffed myself at the freaking Chinese buffet. Stomach must be getting smaller. But still gaining weight, isn't it ironic!

We have Officially Changed Doctors. I have an appointment next Thursday morning with another OB here in town, who delivers at the new hospital, who takes our insurance, and who, most importantly, came with good references from ladies I know who have recently delivered. The final straw was on Tuesday, when I was injured at work. I was carrying files, which I do all the time, all day long, just part of the job, when I had a sharp pain across my midsection, and thereafter started contracting on a fairly regular basis. I called my OB, and he wanted me to come in immediately, which I did. Once I arrived, he told me he believed I was fine, and sent me to Labor and Delivery for a Non-Stress test and a urine analysis. The nurse asked, "Did he do an ultrasound on you?" No, I said. "Did he listen to the baby’s heartbeat?" No. She looked utterly confused. "I need to call him." So she did. When she returned, she hooked me up to an IV and took a urine sample. I laid there for about 3 hours getting the IV fluids, and then she came in and told me that there was blood in my urine. Okay, so I'm spotting. Now what? She hurriedly says, "I'm calling the doctor!" with enough urgency to make me a little nervous. She comes back to my room and says, "Doctor says you're free to go." What? Free to go? When I'm spotting? Not even an exam? What should I do? Can I go back to work? Should I lift files? Do I need to be in bed if I'm bleeding? For the love, give me some information! So the doctor writes me a note for work: "No lifting. No walking. No standing. Seated activity only." I want to slap sense into him. I ask, can I still work out, lift my 30-pound toddler? Yes, no problem. But I can't walk or stand at work. Keith says, if you can't stand or walk at work, can you stand or walk at home? Apparently so. It makes absolutely no sense. Either I need to be at work, or I don't. My job is not the kind of job that allows me to sit all day, without standing or walking. I told the nurse, this note does me no good. I have to get up and walk to the community printer probably every 15 or 20 minutes! She says, is there someone who can help you? Oh yeah, I forgot! Actually, I do keep a little gnome under my desk to do my bidding, and each time I press the Print button, a little light comes on in his cage, at which time he leaps out, runs to the printer to collect my work, and runs back. Once he's in his cage and my prints are safely on my desk, he is rewarded with a little pellet of food, much like kibble. So no need for me to stand or walk at all. In fact, I have my own personal chute that extends from my corner cube on the 8th floor directly down to the front seat of the Escort, and at the end of the day, I roll my office chair over there, hike up my skirt, and down I go! Like a giant slide. Straight into my car, no walking or standing involved at all. My doctor, he's a freaking moron. And sending me home while I was bleeding, well, my husband drew the line at that point. It seems crazy to me, the way he operates. And I'm not the only one. Other doctors and nurses act like this man is a total quack when I tell them the things he's done, or said to me. Like the nurse in L&D. She looked puzzled the entire time I was in there, like she had no clue what he was asking her to do.

So the situation is no longer here nor there; he's past tense, and hopefully the new doctor will be wonderful. I told New Doctor he might as well schedule me for an ultrasound, since he's going to wonder whether or not the mystery previa is still there, or ever was there, and he said no problem. Please, oh please, let him be a good one.

On a happier note, I did stay home from work yesterday, to make sure a 24-hour period passed with no bleeding, and just to rest in general, which led to a happy day with Keith and Owen. I didn't do much, since Keith tried to make sure I neither walked nor stood, but I enjoyed their company. Yesterday morning Owen came into our room and got into bed with us, like he does every morning when we're both home, and eventually slid down and played around in our floor while we finished waking up. At one point he fell backwards on his diaper bottom, and said, "Oh goodness! Goodness!" It was hilarious. I've never heard him say that before, and I have no idea where he learned it, because in our family it's a lot more likely to come out "Oh crap," or some other variation of such. But it was cute and adorable, and must be recorded. Another thing he has learned this week is to refer to himself with pronouns such as I or me. Before he spoke totally in third person (to which my brother said, "Look, it takes someone really cool to pull off speaking in the third person," and luckily Owen is cool), where everything was, "Owen do it," "Owen's bed!" etc. Now he says, "I do it!" or "Give to me." Big step for a little baby! Then yesterday he counted to eleven, which was followed immediately by twenty. I swear, he's the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life.

Last night Keith went bowling with the guys from his work, which was weird because I never thought he even liked them very much. Apparently, and I find this hard to believe really, but he swears it's true, apparently he needs to get out every now and then. Come on, I can't imagine anything sweeter than the 24-hour presence of your wife and son, especially when you get to be main caretaker of said beautiful son all day long. I think he had fun; I was fast asleep when he got home around 11PM. He was kind of grouchy when I called home today, though, so he must have stayed up too late. Man, we're getting old and tired, the both of us. My dad pointed out that I am now on the downside of my twenties, and I was thinking in bed last night that I will have a 7-year old son soon enough, and when I do, I will be 30 years old. I kind of laughed at first, because I can't imagine turning 30, but I actually am going to in about 5 years. So weird, and Betsy and I are well on our way sharing that nursing home suite we always dreamed of.

Monday, June 21

Happy 25th birthday to me!

Sunday, June 20

Last night was our dual birthday/Father's Day celebration. We went to eat at Mossimo's, a nice local Italian restaurant we've never been to before. The food was great, the tiramisu was killer, and Owen was really well behaved. After dinner and dessert, we rented Along Came Polly and came home to open gifts. Owen and I made Keith's card, and we bought him a Nomad Jukebox something or other, which is like an iPod, but not made by Apple. Owen chose the wrapping paper and the bow, which had cars all over it. He carried everything out to Keith, and was very excited to watch Keith open it. And I think Keith really liked the gift. Then Keith gave me my birthday present, which was a huge set of Victoria's Secret lotions, body spray, the whole deal, in my favorite scent, Pear Glace. I haven't had any of that in so long! Owen and I tried it on (Owen is into smelling things now, so this was great), and then Owen was tucked in for the night. We watched our movie, then we went to bed. I had a really great time, and it was nice having Owen along. Pictures of Keith and Owen opening the Father's Day gift are here. There were some of me opening my birthday gift, too, but they were hideous, and since I'm the uploader, I vetoed them.

There are also some random pictures from the last few days here, including some of me at 30 weeks, and Owen doing some hilarious things. He's so funny, that boy. Right now he is napping in his big boy bed. He napped in there yesterday, too, with Keith staying in until he falls asleep. We haven't ventured to night time yet, but it's a small step in the right direction.

Friday, June 18

Another post for today. I'm feeling chatty, I guess.

We just finished up a birthday party here at work for one of the girls who is turning 26. Young, but not quite as young as me, as I am turning a delightfully young 25 on Monday. We had homemade chocolate torte, and it made me very happy (see, Betsy, very happy!). The birthday girl snuck a piece into the fridge so I can take one home later. One of the perks of being pregnant, I guess. So that cheered me up some, since this has been a rather down and irritating day. Everything at work is setting me off, especially RD and stupid agents. I'm short tempered today, I guess.

Keith called a while ago to tell me that I ruined Owen's new bedding. I threw it in the wash last night since it is brand new and has never been used. I didn't want him laying on it without washing it first. But apparently all the threads came out and the surfboards are hanging off the comforters! I was very upset. I emailed the E-Bay store where I ordered them from, just to say that he should probably let people know not to wash them because they fall apart, and isn't it ridculous that you can't wash childrens' bedding? He emailed me right back and said how sorry he was, and he is shipping two new ones out on Monday. I thought that was wonderful of him. Owen's entire room is built around the bedding, so I can't do without it. We will buy him a nice blanket to cover up with, and just use the comforters for decoration when we make the beds. I was so glad he offered to do that; makes me feel a lot better about ordering off of E-Bay.

We watched Newlyweds and Ashlee on MTV the other night. I love to watch Nick and Jessica, but I hated the Ashlee show. I thought she was totally unlikeable and came across as a crazy stalker with a foul mouth. I wasn't a fan. I even like her music less after watching the show. I wonder if I am the only one who felt this way?

Finally, this week is wrapping up. Only 21 minutes left in my work day, and then I'm off for the weekend! I'll be picking Owen up soon, which is always the best part of the day. Happy weekend!

Friday, June 18

Isn't it funny how good news can sometimes sound like bad news?

My doctor's appointment yesterday left my emotionally drained and in tears, literally. Four weeks ago, my OB did an ultrasound, pronounced that I would be having a c-section, and hopefully we could get the baby to 35 or 36 weeks. He then sent me home with little to no understanding of what was going on with my body, or my baby, and left me to fend for myself, gleaning what I could about PPP from medical websites. To me, this was bad news. Harmful to my baby if anything goes wrong, possibly fatal. C-section for me, which means more pain, longer recovery. Premature baby, which presents an entirely different set of circumstances and worries, which I've only begun to explore in books and on the Internet. It took me all four of these past weeks to adapt myself to thinking of having a c-section, and a premature baby. It was a huge emotional adjustment to tell myself that I can handle the pain, and recovery. I prepared myself for suckling problems, for leaving work early, for having only 4 to 5 weeks left of pregnancy with Owen as an only child. All of these things were a change in mindset for me, but I managed it.

Then yesterday, at my 30-week appointment, the doctor felt my stomach and listened to the heartbeat, and said that the baby was growing just fine. He said we'd do another ultrasound at my next appointment (not for another 5 weeks) to check the progress of my PPP. At that time, if the placenta had moved, or was only minimally invading the cervix, he'd allow me to go into labor on my own. Only if the cervix was completely covered would we do a c-section, and even then we'd do it at 39 or 40 weeks (my choice, he says). What are the chances of it moving at this point, I ask him, knowing from my research that after 30 weeks, it is almost unheard of for the placenta to move. "I'd say 50/50," he says. 50/50. I looked over at Keith and thought I was going to fall off the table. 50/50? I don't know what to think anymore. It's actually really good news that we don't have to take the baby early, and I won't mind avoiding a c-section. But it doesn't seem like my doctor is properly monitoring my situation. Why isn't he checking my PPP everytime I go in? Why is he waiting for 5 weeks between appointments, when most doctors want to see their patients every 2 weeks after 30 weeks? Why is his prognosis changing every time I go in? Why can't I get consistent information from him?

After the appointment, I just sat in the car and cried, because I'm not emotionally stable enough to handle these types of changes right now. Yes, it's good news. But I'm emotionally spent after prepping myself for a major surgery. And now, back to square one. I know absolutely nothing, even less than I thought I knew a week ago. And on top of all that, I'm worried about the baby.

Keith told me that if I'm really upset with this doctor, I can find another one. But this late into the pregnancy, not many doctors are willing to take on a new patient. And there are only a handful of doctors who deliver at this hospital; out of that handful, even a smaller percentage take our insurance. It's almost scarier to put myself under the care of an OB who hasn't been monitoring me all along, because he wouldn't know my history or my changes along the past 8 months.

I don't know if I'm just emotional because I'm pregnant, but it feels like a big deal to me to know the health of my baby, and my own body. The way I see it, there are two people responsible for the health of this baby while he's in my stomach, myself and my doctor. Most of that responsibility falls on me. I can't possibly make the best decisions for the baby when I don't know what's going on. I'm frustrated. I thought I'd have some answers, but I know less now than ever before.

Thursday, June 17

I wish I was home with my boys. Keith is off today and tomorrow, so he and Owen are at home playing and snuggling and having fun, and I'm at work. Not fair.

This afternoon is my 30-week OB check-up. Keith is meeting me at the doctor's and hopefully he will answer some of our questions. Most importantly, when are we having this baby? Everything I've read about PPP reiterates that if your placenta hasn't changed positions by week 30, then it will not change, so a c-section is definite. But my doctor said he wouldn't check the placenta again until week 34, and we'd set a c-section date at that time. I say, unacceptable. If we are going to do a c-section. let's check now, at 30 weeks, and give me your final decision! I can imagine us going in to our 34 week appointment, and he says, "See you guys next week at the c-section!" No, no, I must have more time to plan. Anyway, I'm hoping he'll nail down a date for me. I'm anticipating, at the very most, another 5 weeks of pregnancy. He doesn't want me to dilate on my own at all, and with Owen I was starting to dilate in week 36 (although I didn't go into labor for another 3 weeks), so I doubt he'll let me get into week 36. But what do I know, I'm not the doctor. I just wish he'd act more like one!

Keith picked up mattresses today for Owen's bunk beds. Owen loves the beds, which are currently sitting empty in his new room. He crawls over and under the bed rails and says "Owen's bed! Mine beds! Daddy paint-a room! Owen's room!" I'm so nervous about moving him into a twin bed. We're purchasing his side rails hopefully tonight, but I'm not quite ready to put him to sleep in there. Maybe we should start with naps in there? I'm not sure. I'm totally new at this. I guess as long as he likes the beds, and he does, that we might as well just dive right in and see how it goes. It makes me feel like crying, the thought of moving him out of his crib. I'm getting very weepy and emotional writing about it. Must change subjects.

Last night we made Keith's Father's Day card while he was at work. I actually made it out of clay, and Owen painted it. It is flat, like a card, with 3-D letters that say DAD and a heart. Then we'll put our written message on the back. Owen did a beautiful paint job, all water-colory and lovely. The gift is wrapped and in hiding, and now the card is ready. I think the only other thing I need to do is make sure I have everything ready for a roast dinner with vegetables, and rice pudding (one of Keith's favorites) for dessert. He's a great daddy; I hope he likes his Father's Day.

I found a great internet site with preemie clothes where I want to order our homecoming outfit for Baby. I can't find anything cute and small in stores, so I resorted to online shopping. We'll wait to know if the baby will be early at all, and then if it's confirmed, we'll get something in a preemie size, and maybe a handful of sleepers or onesies. He'll grow into newborn sizes quickly, but it will be nice to have a few things that fit well when he's first born. We're expecting a 5 to 5.5 pounder if he's born around week 35. So tiny! I thought Owen was tiny, he was over 7 pounds! Keith asked me to hold off ordering anything under the doctor confirms an early delivery, and then we'll decide what to bring the little one home in.

Pregnancy hormones or not, I'm this close to getting rid of Gabriel (our min-pin). Last weekend we woke up to poop in the floor, which Owen almost reached before we did. Monday when I came home, he had somehow gotten into the trash and torn two poopy diapers up all over the house. And then Tuesday night, I came home to two big piles of his puke (presumably from eating poopy diapers). I seriously thought I was going to throw him out a window (no dogs were injured in the writing of this entry). It's so aggravating. If I came home with a wild toddler in one arm and a tiny fussy baby in the other, still having to cook dinner and do my usual nighttime routine housework, and found poopy diapers torn up or dog vomit everywhere, I would be completely undone. I think I should just nip it in the bud and find him a house where he can stop acting out. I definitely can't handle it anymore, and I know Keith's sick of it, especially since he does all the clean up (the "But I'm pregnant!" excuse still works for now). The stupid thing is that 75% of our house is wood floors, and he managed to throw up twice on the carpet. It's like he does it on purpose. I'm enraged just thinking about it. Crazy dog.

We thought for a while that we would be able to go home over the July 4th holiday, but I don't think we are going to. I wish we could; I haven't been home since Christmas. I miss my family. The timing is weird, and it's expensive, and Keith hates taking time off work since it's unpaid. And etc. Plus I don't think I can travel after week 32, which is that very week. Boo. I feel sad and homesick sometimes, even though I really am starting to think of Tennessee, and especially our house, as home. I guess it's true, home is where the heart it. Or in our case, our family.

Tuesday, June 15

"Our little one is nearly three pounds already and growing like a weed.The early lanugo is disappearing, the eyelids open and close, and the toenails are growing. The bone marrow is now responsible for red blood cell production."

Information from Storknet

Thirty weeks! Third trimester. Almost done. Barring any placenta changes, we'll be meeting this baby in 4 to 5 weeks. I have so much left to do, I can't even begin to list it all. Mainly we need to get Owen moved out of the nursery (I'm about halfway there) and get the baby clothes down from the attic to be washed and hung in the new baby's closet. Must locate all bottles, breast pump, swing, bassinet, bouncy seat, and baby carseat. Husband must assemble most of the above-listed, along with Owen's bunk beds and a new television armoire, not yet purchased.

To top it off, all my baby needs are being put on hold right now due to yet another tree falling in our yard, so Keith's been out there sawing and chopping away on it before it kills the grass (with a handsaw, no less). Owen finds this incredibly interesting. He goes to the window frequently and asks to "See it! One more time!" So we raise the blinds and he says, "Tree fall down! Daddy push it right away!" and then, "Daddy pull it! Daddy cut it!" He also declared the tree "naughty" and that it should be put in the corner for making a "big mess" when it fell. And Keith finds it rather empowering that Owen thinks he pushed the whole tree over.

Sunday night Owen and I went to Wal-Mart to find some sort of closet organizing system for his itty-bitty closet in the new room, to keep his toys organized and off the floor. I found two hanging racks that go over the clothes rod and have shelves for toys. I put them together and hung them in his closet, and he immediately dubbed them swings and tried to hang on them (see: bad idea). Then I dug all of his toys out of his closet, and he thought it was Christmas. He rarely sees all the toys buried in there, and he was in little boy heaven with all the trucks and blocks I found. Then, of course, when I moved the baby toys out of storage into the nursery, he suddenly remembered why he loved them so much, and that they needed to be in Owen's room. Owen, it's been a long time since you played with little plastic dangly keys. Let's give these to the new baby. "Owen likes 'em!" Okay, fine. But do you need the stuffed bear with the heartbeat? "Owen's pooh bear! Owen likes it!" Okay.

Speaking of little Owen, he turned 20 months this past weekend. Frighteningly close to two years old. He never fails to amaze me with his new skills and talents, namely, his vocabulary. Lately he is speaking more and more in full sentences. For example, "Mommy, Pooh Bear push da wagon!" Parenting him is a million times easier now that he can say, "Finger hurts!" or "Want more Wiggles please!" No more guessing at what's bothering him or what he might want to eat or drink or do. He's very opinionated and independent, and has no problem telling us exactly what he needs or wants. I love it. He is still working on his colors, which are improving every day. He loves colors. He asks us the color of everything. Also, he is good at counting to at least five, and I've heard him count to 10 on several occasions. He loves to jump, off anything and everything, and he calls himself a good jumper. He also loves to dance, and will holler, "Owen's dancing!" to which we rush into the room and he performs a little booty shake-finger snap-turn in circles type of thing. It's precious.

This is by far my favorite stage he's ever been in. I say that every month, but every month it's true. He gets more and more fun every day. This is why it's bittersweet to see him grow up. I miss the infant he was, but I love the toddler he has become. And I can't believe I've had the joy of him for almost two years. How did I get so lucky to get this little boy in my life? Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve his kisses and hugs, because he is so much better than me. He is a true example of the whole being greater than its parts. He's cuter and smarter and more entertaining and outgoing than both of his parents. He's just almost perfect. Talk to me again in a few years, but for now, he's my angel baby. Almost two years old. My boy.

And another one on the way. Now back to the stressing out and cleaning!

Saturday, June 12

I could eat that boy up sometimes, he's so cute. More random Owen adorableness here.

We took Owen to the park last night after dinner. He loves the park, especially swinging and playing ball. Pictures are here.

Friday, June 11

I think I've figured out why this baby seems so much more active than Owen was. I can't remember Owen ever actually hurting me when he moved around, but this baby will push and poke and it hurts! So I was trying to think what is different in these two pregnancies, and, duh! Owen was face up, this baby is face down. So all those times I feel like he's going to absolutely pop right out of my belly button, that's his little butt bent over and pushing on me. Last time I felt most of Owen's movements in my tailbone, because his butt would have been up against my spine. It's a big difference in feeling. But surprisingly, not a big difference in comfort level. My tailbone and back hurt so badly last time, I couldn't sit still. So even though these movements are uncomfortable, at least my tailbone isn't hurting as bad. So no complaints, really. Just different.

Owen learned a new phrase at the babysitter's. "Watch this!" He says this all the time now. "Mama! Watch this!" and when I look over, he has to think of something to do really fast. He usually does a little hop, or snaps his fingers, some little amusing trick. The bad part of it is, he says it all the time. Watch this! Watch this! Watch this! How many times can you watch a little baby jump about an inch off the ground? It's cute, but I think 1000 times is all I can handle.

Keith painted Owen's room yesterday. He painted primer on the whole room, and then two coats of white on three walls (the fourth wall is an accent wall, blue). After all that painting, we realized that the white we picked out, while fine on a little card, was more of a bluish-lavendar on the walls. It just would not do. So we were off to Wal-Mart, bought a bright white, and Keith put two more coats of paint on the walls. So he had his share of painting yesterday. Today he is finishing up the blue accent wall, and then we're ready to move furniture into Owen's room. I can't wait to get his new beds up. They are so cool. Owen calls it his room now, and was most interested in what Keith was doing in there. I showed him that the room was now white in lieu of the dark gray, and he thought that was great. He gasped great big with amazement, and when I closed the door, he started to cry and said, "See it! One more time!" So I opened the door again, and he gasped again. I think he likes it.

My calves are so sore. I feel like I hiked a mountain yesterday. They are killing me. It's because of the leg cramps I get at night. Yet another pregnancy-related annoyance. I usually get up at least twice a night, hop around the room trying to get my heel to touch the ground, and then back to bed. Calves are sore! I may have to go back to the advice I got from Chad last pregnancy - a spoonful of mustard or a pickle before bed! It would be worth it to not have leg cramps for a night.

Keith's work schedule is slowing down for the summer. He's only scheduled for 13 hours next week. Famine, anyone? That's going to put a dent in the budget. The crappy part is that, even when he stays home with Owen all week, we still have to pay the sitter! Boo.

Wednesday, June 09

Finally, Owen seems to be feeling much better. He slept through the night last night, which was much needed by all of us, especially Keith who got in from work around 2AM. I had decided to make Owen an appointment with the doctor yesterday to rule out an ear infection, since he was poking and pulling on his right ear throughout the weekend, but he's in much better spirits now, so I don't think it's an ear infection. I think his ears probably were bothering him, with his molars coming in, but not an infection. Seems like we may go through this every few weeks when his teeth start to move, until they are all the way in. A couple of sleepless nights and a sick and restless baby. Hurry up, molars!

Last night, since Keith had to work, Owen and I went out after supper to do some Father's Day shopping and crafting. He did so well, I decided he deserved a treat. I asked him if he'd like some ice cream, which he absolutely loves and rarely gets, and he nodded his head and shouted, "AW KEEM!" which is as close as he can get to saying ice cream. So we stopped at A&W and ordered their smallest scoop (only 30 cents!) and he reveled in it until the last melty drop. It was also the 85th anniversary of A&W, so there were balloons everywhere, which made his day. He kept pointing at the balloon cluster beside our table and saying, "Two of 'em! Orange and blue! Red and green!" He didn't get any of the colors right, of course, as the only color he knows is brown, but he had such a good time. One of the workers let him take a balloon home that had come loose from its arrangement, and this was an instant hit. We didn't get home until after 8PM, and as I was tucking him in, he gave me the biggest, hardest hug ever and said, "Aw keem all gone. Aw keem good." I took this to mean that he had a good time tonight doing crafts and eating ice cream and getting a balloon, and his gigantic hug made for an extra-special thank you. That's what it felt like to me, anyway. And then he topped it off with a full night of sleep. I love that boy.

Yesterday on our way out to shop, we were on this little country back road to avoid interstate traffic, and we were coming up to a narrow and low bridge. The car in front of me started to slow down, and I looked up and saw this big truck - not quite a semi, but smaller, more like a really big delivery truck - go under the bridge and rip off the entire top of the trailer part. The driver stopped under the bridge, and I was sure he was stuck there and we'd have to turn around and go home. But the other guy in the truck with him started laughing, and then they just gunned it and drove through. The top of their trailer fell off, and all these boxes started falling out the back. They drove on, leaving their debris all over the road. Two other random men stuck in traffic got out and cleared the roadway and we drove on through. It was quite an interesting sight to see.

I cleaned out the office last night, and Keith is painting it today; at least, he's getting the primer on. The walls are currently a very dark gray, so it will take him a couple of coats of primer to cover the gray, and then the white and blue will go on later this week. I have no idea where we are now going to store all of Keith's "hobbies." He has five guitars and an amp, two keyboards, two trumpets and tons of wires and cords and sheet music in there. Guess we'll cram it all in our already-overstuffed bedroom. At least the rest of the house will look nice.

We picked up the silver car yesterday, after paying over $200 for some switch to be replaced. As Keith was driving it home, it died again! So they charged us all that money and didn't fix the problem. That makes me irate, but Keith says it's a trial and error process, that they can't just magically know what's wrong with it, and that even the diagnostic machine might not always tell them exactly what to do. I don't buy it. Especially since this is the third time we've taken it in to this place, and they haven't fixed the problem yet! I hate that car, anyway. It's too unreliable. It gave me many good years of service; I've had it since my senior year in high school (7 years ago, if you can believe that). But now seems like a good time to let it go. If only we could afford a nice new minivan just like I've always dreamed of.

Monday, June 07

Oh my word. I am so tired today. The weekend was positively exhausting. Owen is feeling horrendous, which I hate more than anything. I think it is his 2-year molars coming in. On Saturday he was running the highest fever he's ever had. He was so hot; I've never felt him so hot. We didn't have a thermometer, so I called Keith and asked him to pick one up on his way home from work. I gave Owen some Tylenol, and once it kicked in, his fever was still 101 degrees. He was fussy and clingy and cried for hours for no apparent reason. He also won't eat, and he's drooling like mad. I changed his shirt twice yesterday because it was so wet with drool. Yesterday he didn't have a fever, but was still so whiny and clingy, and just thrashed in his sleep like he was uncomfortable. He woke up crying and cried for an hour, until he uttered the word "oatmeal" which, once fixed, seemed to cure his ills for a while. This one bowl of oatmeal is virtually all he's eaten in two days. He randomly cried yesterday and told me owie, but couldn't identify what was hurting him. The worst part was yesterday afternoon, when I was fixing dinner. He was playing in the kitchen with me, and all of a sudden he sat down in the floor and started crying, and saying, "Owie! Mommy fix it!" That about killed me, his thinking I could fix whatever was wrong with him. All I can do is hold him, and he wants to rock in the rocking chair (rockababy, he calls it). And the sleeping, it's not good. He slept maybe a total of 4 hours last night. My poor boy.

And since we have only one car, and Keith had to be at work this morning at 630AM (same as me), we were up at 430AM. Owen had to be dropped off by 530AM so we could get downtown, I could drop Keith off, and be at work myself by 630AM. Miserable start to a week, 4 hours of sleep with a thrashing baby on top of you, then up at 430AM. It can only get better from today, I tell you.

Work has sucked lately. I came back from vacation to a desk that looked like it had hardly been touched while I was out. I know my co-workers attempted to keep it in check, but it is so out of control. And now one of my co-workers is out all week, so on top of my own book, I've got hers to deal with as well. I feel like I'm drowning.

On another thought entirely, this baby is so active! I'm amazed sometimes at how long he can poke and roll and jab. Seems to be way more active than Owen was. Sometimes Keith will give him a little poke, and he'll poke right back, and Keith will push and the baby pushes right back. Maybe I've just forgotten how much Owen moved, but it seems like it was way less than this little one.

Keith has a few days off this week, so he is going to paint Owen's new room. This is such a relief to me. This baby will be here before we know it. My birthday is 2 weeks from today, and then the baby will be here most likely 4 weeks from my birthday, maybe a week earlier. Only 5 or 6 more weeks until we meet this little one! Wow, I'm just now getting the full meaning of that. Not long at all! Much nesting remains to be done prior to his arrival.

Owen and I discussed Keith's Father's Day gift, and we've decided what to get him. I had an idea originally, but it soon became clear that without a truck and some serious knowledge of tools, I couldn't pull it off. So we've switched gears, and I've already picked up his gift. I hope he likes it. I know he doesn't ever read this, but I still won't post what we got him, just in case. He might surprise me and show up, and then the fun is all over.

Friday, June 04

Finally an update! And I warn you, a long one!

We returned last night from our vacation to Texas. The 8 to 9-hour drive managed to stretch into 10.5 hours, but that's to be expected with a toddler in tow. Owen was so wonderful on the drive, both there and back, and also on the 6-hour drive to and from San Antonio from my parents' house. I packed him a FunBox, which consisted of this-and-that I picked up from a dollar store, and his crayons and a few books, and we pulled a new toy out of the box every so often. He took a couple of naps, had some snacks, played with his bears, and entertained himself in general. We sang countless renditions of Old McDonald and the ABC song, even tried the ABCs in a round once with Keith, myself, and Kyle, although Owen wasn't sure when to cheer at the end and we all ended up in a state of general confusion.

We arrived in Texas late Thursday night, after 11 grueling hours on the road, and several road work areas where traffic was completely stopped (Arkansas, really with your roads already!). We stopped for dinner at a miserable little restaurant in Wynne, Arkansas, and I hope to never pass that way again. Friday we went with my parents and Kyle to a little nearby town with antiques and cool shops. We had a fun lunch and I had fudge for dessert. Owen watched a train pass by, at the end of which he turned his little hands palm-up and said, "Choo-choo all gone." When we got home, my dad grilled kabobs, and Owen ate a popsicle (or bicycle, as he calls them) outside on the patio with his new best friend, Kip. Saturday we lazed around the house in general, until mid-afternoon when we went shopping and out to a great Mexican dinner. Sunday we drove to Shreveport to the Mudbug Festival, where we listened to live music and my dad ate a lot of crawfish. We also went onto one of the boats and ate dinner in the casino, and Keith gave me $5 to spend in the slots. I promptly lost it all, and we drove home. Once Owen was in bed, we watched Big Fish and ate popcorn. Monday we drove with Kyle to San Antonio. We checked into our hotel and walked down to the river, where we ate seafood and I did a lot of sweating. Tuesday was spent at Sea World, where Owen had The Best Time. He took two naps while we were there, the first while the boys rode some wild rides that I was banned from, being with child and all, and the second nap while the boys rode some wild waterslides that I was also banned from. We watched this weird show with acrobats and dolphins and whales, which Owen loved, but hated just a little bit. He cried every now and then when the music turned creepy or someone near us would cheer too loudly. He'd scrunch up his face and start climbing out of Keith's lap in a desperate attempt to get to me. "Mommy hold you!" he'd say, and I'd hold him for a while until his attention was back on the dolphins. At the end of the show, he cheered and clapped with the crowd, and said, "Good swimming! Yay dolphins!" He still talks about this show. He's told me so many times now about the "dolphins dancing, and guy jump in water, and fish splashing!" all in his little baby garble. Must have made a memory! We went to the water park there in Sea World and Owen played in the baby pool, which had several little slides and a big mushroom fountain. After Sea World we went back to the River Walk for dinner. Wednesday we visited the Mexican market where I bought Owen the customary San Antonio souvenir tee-shirt. After that it was back to the parents' house and Thursday morning we headed back to Tennessee. Sounds like a lot of activity packed into a week, right? Well, it was, but we had a great time. Owen was on his very best behavior most of the time, and we came in right at our budget. Our car didn't break down, although we came dangerously close to running out of gas once, when the entire southwest corner of Arkansas was out of electricity and we couldn't find an operating pump. And now we have a weekend to do laundry and rest. Keith said this was just the break he needed, and I agree. So there's the blow by blow.

Everything went just fine on the pregnancy front, although I required more resting than usual, and I was a tad irritable in the San Antonio heat. My maternity bathing suit was a winner, and my maternity denim shorts from Old Navy Online came in just in time. No bleeding or weirdness at all, just regular old baby movements. I can say that it is definitely hard to keep the baby name a secret when you're visiting family! Keith and I use the name every day, and we call the baby by his name, so it was hard to revert back when around family (who all call the baby Shawn by the way, long story). All three of us, including Owen, said the baby's name out loud at least once over the weekend (I did twice), but I think we covered our tracks pretty well. Right family? It was difficult.

Owen seemed to adjust really well to my parents and being in a new house. He started speaking in the third person just recently, and he's perfected his name (no more Onan). He is demonstrating such thought processing now, where he actually stops to think about something, rationalize it or figure it out. It is so cool. He now knows by listening whether Daddy is taking a shower or a bath, and he knows the difference between the driver and the passenger seat in the car, that someone is driving and the other person is at his disposal. He can identify my clothes versus Daddy's (most of the time). He's just so smart. He enjoyed his uncle Kyle, and talked about him long into the ride home yesterday. Several hours into our trip, he said, "Kyle's sleeping." We assured him that Kyle probably was sleeping. He also interjected that Kyle was tired, Kyle was sad, and that he needed help from Kyle. He shows remarkable memory for things that really impress him, like the dolphin show. The other major thing he remembers from the trip is that my dad grilled hot dogs one day for lunch. "Poppy cooka hot gogs!" he says over and over (no, that's not a typo, just Owen-speak). He knows so much more than I expected him to. I can't believe how well he's talking. He counts and sings and talks just like a little kid! Keith commented the other day how weird it will be to have another little baby who can't really do much of anything except lay there, now that we're so used to Owen being a big boy. He's right about that. A newborn will seem foreign now!

Keith just called from work and said that the car broke down again. Poor Keith. He only had to walk a mile or two this time. Another $70 down the drain for a tow truck, and then however much it costs to fix that old car. Will we ever learn? The car wants to retire. Let the car go. Put it out of its misery. Blah, dumb old car.

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