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Taking one day at a time...

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  • Friday, March 31, 2006

    Prenatal Visit #1,347...

    Okay, so it's not exactly the 1,347th visit, but it sure feels like it now. As usual, though, everything is just fine. Knock on wood.

    I've gained two more pounds, making my total weight gain thus far exactly 25 pounds. I let my OB know about the persistent numbness/tingling in my right hand. He told me it's very common and not to worry. It should go away once I give birth. Apparently, the accumulation of bodily fluids presses on nerves, creating this inconvenient carpal tunnel bullshit for me. It is nothing I should worry about and perfectly normal, though. Yea! I also let him know that I'm starting to retain some water in my ankles. He felt my ankles and looked at them and told me not to worry about that, either. If he can still feel my ankle bones, then I'm fine.

    I had the Group B strep test done today and now it's just a waiting game. The doc filled out my maternity leave paperwork, so I can hand it in on Monday and consider April my last month at work. Yea! All I have to do now is deliver this little Messiah...

    Yeesh. I'm pooped. And I can't wait to meet my fetus, face to face! Knowing I'll get to meet this little being soon makes the minor inconveniences just that...minor. This has been a great pregnancy, so far. I feel very fortunate.

    On another note, I'd like to wish my nephew, Bro, a very happy seventeenth birthday! It seems like he was just a little kid only days ago. Now he's a multi-talented young man with facial hair and a girlfriend. And he's so very handsome, too. Happy Birthday, Bro! We love you!

    Thursday, March 30, 2006

    Pictures Of Jack's Adventures With Punka Yesterday Morning...

    " Please take me outside in my car, Punka (my Dad/Jack's grandfather). I would like to go to the park today. It's a nice day outside."

    "Pretty pleeeeeasssseee......"

    " ...with sugar on top..."

    "Hey, can we pimp this ride?"

    " THAT'S what I'm talkin' about!"

    Wednesday, March 29, 2006

    Because You Asked...

    1. I should've put her on my Dead Pool List for this year. Maybe she'll make it to next year, after all. Then, I can put her on next year's list and anticipate that she finally does what we all know she eventually will.

    2. It doesn't sound like the Spirit of Aloha can help with this one.

    3. Like I always tell my students...never, ever put something in writing that you wouldn't want anyone else to see. I learned that from my Mother.

    4. Universities have a way of covering up such things. In this case, I hope these guys get what they deserve, regardless of her profession (it shouldn't matter; she's still a human being). Some things in life really are inexcusable.

    5. I wonder if his codpiece has jewels on it now.

    6. This is what people did before television came about. Thirty to forty dots of color per millimeter is considered entertainment when there's no such thing as a season finale or a rerun.

    7. What was this mother doing that she didn't notice this? What an idiot!

    Sorry for such a boring post, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to put my two-cents in about these tidbits of news today. Heh...

    Tuesday, March 28, 2006

    For A Good Cause...

    A very good friend of mine is doing the Ride for AIDS Chicago 2006. It is a two-day, 180-mile, bicycling event created by volunteers and designed to raise needed monies for TPAN and BEHIV. They’re completely grass roots and committed to returning 100% of donations they receive to their beneficiaries: Test Positive Aware Network (TPAN) and Better Existence with HIV (BEHIV).

    If you'd like to help him in his cause, click on this link. I don't usually promote charities, but I feel compelled to do so with this one.

    That's all for today. Back to your regularly scheduled blogging.

    Monday, March 27, 2006

    It's Time For More Belly Pics...

    From the front...
    Since I'm 34 weeks and 4 days into my pregnancy, I figured it was time to post some more belly pics. Enjoy! This isn't going to last much longer. *Sniff, sniff, sigh*

    My left side...

    Pardon my dirty mirror. Jack likes to put his hands and tongue all over it!

    My right side...

    And there you have it! Hopefully, I'll be able to post some more belly pics before Eatmisery #2 makes an appearance. Gosh, I absolutely love my Buddha belly! I wish it could last forever. Put me in the nuthouse now, will ya? I must be crazy for feeling so good this close to the end!

    Sunday, March 26, 2006

    The Truth Hurts...

    To Whom It May Concern:

    I'd like to just point out that this blog is for me. I write the things I write because it makes me feel better to get them out. Certain posts are sometimes aimed for certain people, who may or may not read them. It doesn't matter to me. All that matters is that I get my feelings out. Keeping them in does no good. I'm not sorry, nor do I regret putting my feelings down on this blog. I am sorry, though, that you are as selfish as you are.

    If you've read certain posts and if you don't like those certain posts, that's not my problem. It's yours. Perhaps, out of your own guilt, you realize that a certain post (or maybe more than one) was written with you in mind and you don't like what it states. Too bad. That's your problem, as well. I don't write for you; I write for me.

    And if you don't like what you see, click that little "X" in the upper right hand corner of your screen and go fuck yourself with the broom I ride in on everyday.

    If you think my words are cutting on this screen, you should thank your lucky stars I didn't say them to your face, for the sake of not hurting someone I love dearly. I'm better at getting my point across in person and you wouldn't want to be afflicted with my wrath. I mean what I say and I say what I mean.

    So, go on. Click that little "X" and be done with it. I don't care what you think. I'm just glad I'm living rent-free in your head right now. Now, I am done with you. You live in my head no longer.

    If, however, you haven't read the posts that were written with you in mind, maybe you should. It might open your eyes a little so you can see the world as it is outside your mind. Maybe, for once, you'll be able to see past the nose on your face and think about someone else for a change.

    The truth hurts, doesn't it?

    Saturday, March 25, 2006

    You Can Lead A Horse To Water...

    A little update for you...

    My Gram is probably coming home from the hospital today. She was discharged yesterday, but couldn't stop vomiting, so they cancelled her discharge and kept her another night to run more tests. They need to figure out why she keeps vomiting. She's off the pain patch; her Foley catheter is out; and they've been making her walk with a walker more. She has declined any form of physical therapy to help her with her daily routines at home. She has also declined back surgery. They can't keep her there any longer because they need the bed for someone who needs more care than her.

    The best thing for her would be to stay in the rehab part of the hospital for a few days, or even a few weeks, to learn how to manage her pain and move around more efficiently. She would be able to carry out her daily routine better if she knew how to move properly. Instead, she's going to come home and continue to do things the same way she's done them for years, which is what put her in the hospital in the first place. The farthest she's ever going to go is her kitchen and she'll spend most of her time in her recliner in front of the television, even though she should be walking to keep her bones from stiffening. While she did receive two shots in her back for pain, there is no telling how long they will last. I wish she would've consented to the physical therapy/rehab. It really would've been the best thing for her, but she's too stubborn sometimes.

    Sometimes, home is not always the best place to be. She's not crazy, so she can legally make her own choices. I love my Gram very much, but I wish she'd think this decision through. I know she feels comfortable around her things and in her own home, but I think she really would've benefitted from learning a few things in the rehab facility. A few days or weeks there really could've made a difference, but she views it all as prison.

    One thing's for sure now...she will continue to lie to her doctor about her pain so that she never has to go back to the hospital again. That scares me.

    Friday, March 24, 2006

    A Textbook Pregnancy, So Far...

    Blood pressure: 120/70
    Baby's position: Head down, getting ready; no internal exam yet
    Urine: No protein, no sugar observed
    Mama's well-being: pissing like a racehorse several times a night, as to be expected
    Gain: 3 pounds since last Friday, bringing the grand total to 23 pounds!

    I went in for my weekly OB visit this afternoon. I didn't see his partner, either, which was a relief. I also explained my feelings about his partner, tactfully, of course.

    I was a good girl. I didn't get ghetto on him and I didn't get bitchy. I just asked how he felt about my attempting a VBAC. I also asked him for the statistics on uterine ruptures. He told me that about 1% of VBAC have a uterine rupture occur. I asked him if he saw my attempt at a VBAC as a problem, since my children will be so close in age. I made him aware that I am trusting that my body will be able to do what nature intended. If not, I don't have a problem with a C-section if it means that it'll be beneficial to the Little Eatmisery that's growing inside me. He was confident that I could try a VBAC. And that's all I needed to hear. He also apologized for his colleague, assuring me that he didn't mean to offend me; he just wanted to make sure I was completely aware of this risks associated with a VBAC.

    I told my OB that since the risks, which I fully understand, are so very slim (only 1% fucking rupture; I mean, really!), I still wished to deliver vaginally. I'm so glad he's favorable about the whole thing. It made my day.

    I also let him know that I've been having Braxton-Hicks contractions up the wazoo and that, at times, they really fucking hurt. He's not surprised. He let me know how to tell when the contractions are productive ones, not just practice ones. We discussed a bunch of pertinent things, but the VBAC stuff was my main concern.

    I gave him my maternity leave paperwork to fill out, which he has his nurse do. I'll pick it up when I see him again next Friday. He wanted me to see his partner, but I'm a stinker. I made my next appointment before I saw him today and didn't feel like changing it. His partner's office hours next Friday are only until around noon and I'm not going to take a half-day off from work to see a doctor I don't like. So, I kept my appointment with Dr. Wonderful. The medical assistant at the front desk told me that my OB wanted me to see his partner next week and I shot her a look that said more than any words could. She smiled and winked at me and said, "Nevermind. You can just keep your appointment with him." I thanked her several times and left smiling. Perhaps she knows something I don't. Heh...

    Thursday, March 23, 2006

    Cutting The Dead Weight...

    Sometimes, you just have to cut the "dead weight" from your life in order to make it better. Often, the "dead weight" is actually a person (someone you're related to); it can also be a issue from your past you've dealt with and moved beyond. I am, however, actually referring to the former, not the latter.

    Cutting out the "dead weight" in your life doesn't have to be difficult. It entails no more contact with that person, no more phone calls, no more pretense at family gatherings, no more walking on eggshells to spare someone else's feelings; all of which are a strain on you to begin with. Sometimes severing one's ties with someone is the best thing you can do for yourself, regardless of this person's relation to you. Some people just don't deserve to know you or be in your good company, so you have to do what's best and let them go.

    If someone in your life doesn't add anything to it but utter arrogance, grief, and resentment, you have to rid them from your life. It's the only thing you can do. When you know they aren't going to change their ways for the better, you have to be the one who does the changing. It's actually very simple because it's easy to change if it's beneficial to you.

    I say we should all cut the "dead weights" from our lives. It's the best recipe for happiness.

    (*SIDENOTE: Fuck off, Bitch!)

    Wednesday, March 22, 2006

    THAT Smell...

    It's a well-known fact among those who know me that I prefer to use the men's washroom wherever I go. Let me elaborate why. (This could get ugly.)

    My colleagues tease me about my preference for the men's washroom. They think I'm silly, but yesterday's situation I encountered justifies my choice as being the best possible one.

    After lunch, a group of us were chatting when I had to go pee (what else is new?). After entering the ladies' washroom (in order to not be teased anymore), I had to quickly exit it due to the funk that assaulted my nostrils. Pregnant or not, I am acutely aware of smells that disturb me. So, what did I do? I used the men's washroom, instead. When I got back to our lunch table, I was teased relentlessly about how I always use the men's bathroom. That's when I let loose on why. Heh...

    I simply stated that they should take a walk into the ladies' room at that very moment to understand why I don't like to go in there. Ever. They just laughed. I said, "You think it's funny that I always use the men's room, but do you know why? The men's room is always cleaner. And it never, ever smells like dirty girl parts." At this point, a few were utterly disturbed by the thought of dirty girl parts; others laughed their asses off, telling me that I'm not afraid to say anything. And then there was the one person who tried to reason it out, with a dig on me because I'm pregnant again and, consequently, menstrual period-less. She said, "Well, excuse us. Some of us still get our menstrual." (That's ghetto-speak for "I have my period, so I smell right now because I don't wash down there and I'm the reason you can't use the ladies' room.")

    I retorted by saying, "Having one's period is no reason to smell like something died in your panties!" That quickly shut the whole table up because it was completely honest and true. No one should ever stink that bad. And I hate when they say it's a "cultural thing" or "my man likes it that way." That's just fucking gross. Show me in the book of life's rules (the Bible, to some) where it actually states that a woman should not wash during her period and I'll show you an elephant who can bend its knees. (Elephants don't have knees! Get it?)

    I absolutely can't stand the smell of dirty girl parts. And women are pigs in bathrooms they don't have to clean; some don't care if their pad doesn't quite make it into the garbage can or their tampon never flushes. THAT'S why I prefer to use the men's washroom everywhere I go. It's just easier to avoid the whole ordeal, saving my precious nostrils in the process.

    I'll take the smell of man-shit over the smell of THAT any day!

    Tuesday, March 21, 2006

    Something I'm Reading...

    I'm reading this book titled, It's Better To Build Boys Than Mend Men. It was written by S. Truett Cathy (yes, the founder of Chick-fil-A). He does a lot of work with and for foster children, and has been doing so for several decades. There are several references to God and the Bible, but you know me; I'm skipping those sentences/parts of the book. I can respect those references, but I don't have to believe that the art of raising a decent male child is solely rooted in one's belief in the Bible or God. Anyway, this is a very good book, despite the occasional visual onslaught of the Scriptures.

    Some interesting tidbits from this book...

    The Result of Fatherlessness:
    *63% of youth suicides are from fatherless homes
    *90% of all homeless runaway children are from fatherless homes
    *80% or rapists motivated with displaced angers come from fatherless homes
    *71% of all high school dropouts come from fatherless homes
    *85% of youth in prisons grew up in fatherless homes
    *75% of all adolescent patients in drug treatment centers come from fatherless homes

    It's important to know that Mr. Cathy defines "fatherless" loosely. A "fatherless" home can be one without a father (or father figure) or it can be one with a father who is there physically, but not in any other way (i.e. uninvolved in the child's life, drunk, gambling, etc.). Both can take their toll on a child's well-being, which can perpetuate a pattern later on in life.

    Children from Fatherless Homes Are:
    *5 times more likely to commit suicide
    *32 times more likely to run away
    *20 times more likely to have behavioral disorders
    *14 times more likely to commit rape
    *9 times more likely to drop out of school
    *10 times more likely to abuse chemical substances
    *9 times more likely to end up in a state-operated institution
    *20 times more likely to end up in prison

    Now, I have not been able to research the validity of these statistics. I'm just writing what I read about in this book. However, there are plenty of young men in the world who have grown up to be successful, productive citizens, with or without fathers. I don't know how accurate Mr. Cathy's facts are, but I can say that the above statistics cannot possibly account for all fatherless young men. There has to be a margin of error.

    Anyway, I just wanted to share this information and the title of the book with you. It's an interesting read, if you have the time. Reading this book is making me grateful that I have my husband to help me raise our son. Our home is not one that would be considered "fatherless." The homes of some of my students, however, are. And those boys are really fucked up. And the cycle continues with each generation unless someone can break it.

    The title says it all, really. It's a whole lot easier to "build" a boy than it is to fix a grown man. Yeesh.

    Monday, March 20, 2006

    English Is A Crazy Language...

    Have you ever wondered why foreigners have trouble with the English Language?

    Let's face it;
    English is a stupid language.
    there is no egg in the eggplant;
    No ham in the hamburger;
    And neither pine nor apple in the pineapple.
    English muffins were not invented in England.
    French fries were not invented in France.

    We sometimes take English for granted,
    but if we examine its paradoxes we find that
    quicksand takes you down slowly;
    Boxing rings are square;
    and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea, nor is it a pig.

    If writers write, how come fingers don't fing?
    If the plural of tooth is teeth,
    shouldn't the plural of phone booth be phone beeth?
    If the teacher taught,
    then why didn't the preacher praught?

    If a vegetarian eats vegetables,
    what the heck does a humanitarian eat?
    Why do people recite at a play,
    yet play at a recital?
    Park on driveways and
    Drive on parkways?

    You have to marvel at the unique lunacy
    of a language where a house can burn up as
    it burns down;
    And in which you fill in a form
    by filling it out.
    And a bell is only heard once it goes!

    English was invented by people, not computers,
    and it reflects the creativity of the human race
    (Which of course isn't a race at all).

    That is why
    When the stars are out, they are visible;
    but when the lights are out they are invisible.
    And why it is that when I wind up my watch,
    it starts;
    but when I wind up this observation,
    It ends.

    This is from one of my favorite linguists, Richard Lederer. Do you understand why I love English so much and why I teach it? It just plain fascinates me, really.

    Sunday, March 19, 2006

    My Gram...

    My Gram was admitted to the hospital yesterday. She literally couldn't get out of bed yesterday morning because she was in so much pain. She is not one who likes hospitals in the least bit, so for her to go, it must've been pretty bad.

    My Gram is 87 years old. Over the past few years, she's dealt with her body breaking down little by little. She's diabetic and can barely see anymore. She can't hear too well, either. She can, however, remember lots of things. Her mind is sharp, for the most part, but her body is not her friend these days. She has horrible arthritis in pretty much every part of her body, including her spine. Yesterday was a terrible day for her. She's in pain on a constant basis, so for her to say that her pain was a 10, on a scale of 1-10, it must've been the worst she's ever had.

    My Gram is terribly afraid of hospitals. She's afraid she'll die in one, like most of her friends have. She even lied to the ER doctor and said the pain wasn't too bad. My Mother and my cousin took her to the ER yesterday morning, after speaking with her doctor about how bad her back pain was. It took hours and hours for her to get admitted. Since she's diabetic and hadn't been able to eat, she was shaky and out of sorts. The ER doctor also gave her a hard time, insisting that she didn't even need to be there and that all she should've done was take more pain meds. I hate the ER.

    Consequently, she was admitted and placed in a room on the orthopedic floor. They had to give her a Foley catheter because she can't make it to the bathroom. She'll be there a few days and that's all we know, so far. She needs a CT scan and an MRI, so I expect she'll be in the hospital at least until Monday, if not longer. Her doctor, by the way, is a pill-pushing quack who stands to make a lot of money off of her. No one in the family likes him, but she's old and refuses to change to a different doctor. Whatcha gonna do?

    Gram doesn't get too many visitors at home. The regulars, of course, come. Many people, however, have pretty much written her off as dead. She rarely sees most of her grandchildren, just a few of us. And it's sad. She lives with my Mother and has for many, many years. Up until I became pregnant with Baby Jack, she and I went everywhere together. You name it, we did it together. I hope one day I have a granddaughter that can take me everywhere when I need to get out. I've missed it, really. Becoming a mother shifted my priorities and with another baby on the way soon, I haven't been able to take Gram out at all. It's not easy getting her around. She's not steady and stumbles easily. I can't risk falling, even though I wish I could take her out.

    She's a good person. Her body, however, is going against her right now and she's helpless. I hope she comes home soon and they can help her manage her pain, maybe even relieve it. No one should ever have to live in constant pain that dictates how your day will be when you wake up in the morning. This is no way to live.

    I'm hoping my Gram gets better soon. I hate to see her in this kind of pain. Being at the hospital is the best place for her right now, much to her chagrin. I just hope they can give her feasible solutions. She's my only Gram and I love her more than she's aware. I hope she knows that.

    Keep her in your thoughts, please.

    Saturday, March 18, 2006

    A Woman Who Reads...

    I received this little story from my mother-in-law and thought it was funny enough to pass on to you. Being an avid reader, I can appreciate this kind of humor! I hope you can, too. Pass this on to all the clever women and all the fishermen in your life. They'll get a kick out of it!

    One morning a husband returns after several hours of fishing and decides to take a nap. Although not familiar with the lake, his wife decides to take the boat out. She motors out a short distance, drops anchor and begins to read her book. Along comes a game warden in his boat. He pulls up alongside the woman and says, "Good morning, ma'am. What are you doing?"

    "Reading a book," she replies.

    "You're in a restricted fishing area," he informs her.

    "I'm sorry, Officer, but I'm not fishing; I'm reading."

    "Yes, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment. I'll have to take you in and write you up."

    "If you do that, I'll have to charge you with sexual assault,"says the woman.

    "But I haven't even touched you," says the game warden.

    "That's true, but you have all the equipment. For all I know, you could start at any moment."

    "Have a nice day, ma'am," he said, and left.

    Moral of this story: Never argue with a woman who reads. It is likely she can also think!

    Friday, March 17, 2006

    Once A Week Now...

    This morning, all three of us (Hubby, Jack, and myself) had doctor appointments. Here are the details:

    1. Hubby got a spinal epidural steroid injection (only three a year are permitted) today for his sciatica. He was told that if these injections don't work for his pain, he'll need to have back surgery to fuse the angry disks that are giving him so much trouble. Hereditary back disorders suck; that's my conclusion. He's doing surprisingly well right now, too. I thought he'd be in more pain, but he's still under a local anesthetic, so he went shopping. He's going to bring home my miracle lotion, too.

    2. I am not a fan of my OB's partner. I had to see him today because my OB wanted to make sure that I met the partner just in case he couldn't be there for my delivery. I wanted so badly to tell him, "Fuck you!" He acted surprised when I informed him that I was hoping to VBAC this time; he just assumed I would be a repeat C-section (which he stated). Once he found out I wanted to VBAC, he told me that I "was one of those who were trying to be brave." I asked him what exactly he meant by that and he basically looked down his nose at me the rest of the time. I was in and out in a matter of minutes; I just don't think he wanted to deal with a VBAC. If you ask me, this guy is knife-happy and I don't like it one bit. I almost felt like I was being bullied into having another C-section, especially when he started telling me a horror story about one of his patients whose uterus ruptured recently because she wanted to VBAC and "be brave." I told him that I was going to trust my body and my instincts and that was that. And little Baby Jack was an absolute angel, playing on the floor quietly with his toys while I was "examined," if that's what you want to call it. Now, I'm supposed to go in every fucking week! I made my next appointment for next Friday afternoon, so I can go straight from work. It's with my regular OB and I can't wait to tell him what I think about his partner, tactfully, of course. Heh...

    3. Baby Jack met his new pediatrician and, boy, do we like him. He's a good guy. Jack was crabby because he was tired, but he did the best that he could. Here are his stats:

    Weight: 20 pounds, 8 ounces (that's a nice-sized Thanksgiving turkey)
    Height: 30 inches (that's a couple inches longer than my inseam)
    Head Circumference: 17.5 inches (or 44.5 cm); does anyone ever measure this correctly?

    He'd like Jack to be completely off a bottle by his next appointment in two months. He should drink no more than 20 ounces of whole milk a day, either. That's fine because that's usually how much he takes anyway. He received two vaccines (chicken pox and pneumococcal conjugate) today, so Angelic Baby Jack was Angry Baby Jack when we left the doctor's office. He fell asleep during the ten-minute car ride home, too. Hubby slipped him right into his crib where, hopefully, he will get some quality rest. It's been a hard morning for him today.

    The remainder of the day is all mine. I'm not at work, obviously; nor am I going in, so I can rest, too. I just can't fucking believe that I have to be seen by my doctor every week now. That's how I know the end is near. I'm really going to miss being pregnant. I love being pregnant so much. It goes by too quickly. I must be crazy!

    (Oh. My. God. I'm going to have children...that's plural!)

    Thursday, March 16, 2006

    Things This Time Are Different...

    I've noticed that some aspects of this pregnancy are much different than my last one. Many of you know that Baby Jack is only thirteen months old, so that means I got pregnant again when he was five and a half months old. Things this time around are much different, perhaps because my body's been down this road not too long ago.

    1. My Braxton-Hicks contractions are much, much stronger this time and I felt them earlier.

    2. I felt fetal activity much quicker this time.

    3. I've gained less weight this time, but the baby feels bigger than Jack did at this point. Maybe I'm wrong, but I just have a gut feeling (no pun intended).

    4. With Jack, I didn't get serious heartburn until my last month of pregnancy. With this baby, I've had serious heartburn for about two months now, way earlier than last time.

    5. I can't nap anymore when I get home from work. When I was pregnant with Jack, I'd come home from work and take a nap. This time I can't because I have to take care of Jack!

    6. With this baby, I can't eat ribs. They make my stomach turn. With Jack, I couldn't eat chicken off a bone. With Jack, I craved lots of meat, all the time. With this baby, I crave salads, fruits, and veggies. I don't have any insane cravings, though. I didn't last time, either.

    7. I am not as scared this time. I'm ready for anything. Jack's birth was difficult and left quite an impression in my mind. I don't foresee this birth being worse than what I already went through before. I have a better doctor this time around (i.e. a doctor who knows what the hell he is doing), so I'm hoping for a much better experience all-around.

    8. I had morning sickness both times, but it stopped once the first trimester was over. The only difference between the two is that, this time around, it wasn't certain smells that made me sick. I can't think of anything that I couldn't stand the smell of this time.

    9. I'm going to work longer with this pregnancy. I'm not taking off the two weeks prior to my due date this time. I'm only going to stop working six days before my due date, unless this baby wants out sooner.

    10. I'm so busy this time around that, in the first two trimesters, I kept forgetting I was pregnant. Now, there's no mistaking I'm pregnant. I feel it everywhere.

    11. I feel slightly guilty for not being able to concentrate more on "being pregnant" because I have Baby Jack to tend to daily. I don't mind that so much, though. It means I'm not worrying.

    12. I also feel a little guilty that Jack will never remember what it's like to have us all to himself. For as long as he'll be able to think back, there will always be someone else he has to share us with.

    13. I do, however, feel great that I can give him a live-in playmate, a buddy, a pal, someone to share secrets with later, someone to get into trouble with, etc. I am lucky to have one brother and one sister; Hubby has two of each. It's something we wanted Baby Jack to have...sibling(s).

    14. I can eat oranges this time. With Baby Jack's pregnancy, I couldn't touch oranges or orange juice. The heartburn from either one was horrendous. This time, however, I crave oranges. I eat at least two a day.

    15. I'm totally beat this time around. It's hard having a toddler AND being pregnant, but I wouldn't change it for the world right now. This is, after all, everything I ever wanted in life. I'm made for this Motherhood stuff.

    If I think of anything else, I'll add to the list. Right now, though, these are the differences that come to my mind. I'm sure there's more, but this baby's using up what little brain cells I have left these days, so I know I'm forgetting something. If you have more than one child, what do you remember about the differences in your pregnancies? I'm just curious.

    Wednesday, March 15, 2006

    Joey Green Kicks Ass...

    If you've never read any of Joey Green's books or you've never seen this website, you must do so immediately. You'll be surprised at how much information you get. It's amazing how many uses there are for common household products. Perhaps you'll find something that is useful to you. I did!

    Here are just a few things that I've learned:

    *When I'm out of toilet bowl cleaner, I need to look no further than my own fridge. Coca-Cola does the trick!
    *Bounce fabric softener repels mosquitoes, so no need for me to spend oodles of dollars on expensive bug spray anymore.
    *Huggies Baby Wipes absorb coffee without leaving a stain.
    *Watering your plants with weak Lipton tea will invigorate them.
    *Dannon yogurt spread on sunburn is soothing.

    Learn something new today by going to this website. I'd be surprised if you walked away without a new idea! Enjoy!

    Tuesday, March 14, 2006

    Look At My Baby's Forehead...

    See the post below for details on Baby Jack's boo-boo. Posted by Picasa

    Jack Got A Boo-Boo...

    My poor Baby Jack fell down and hit his head on the sidewalk while walking around the backyard with his Papa yesterday. He's got a "strawberry" on his forehead. I'm just glad he didn't hurt any of his teeth. I'll post a picture in this entry later. (Blogger's being a bitch and not letting me upload the photo to the blog. It figures. It goes with the kind of day I'm having. )

    This doesn't, however, explain why he was up from 1:45 a.m. until 5 a.m. I'm completely beat today, considering he finally fell back asleep when it was time for me to get up! Arrrrgggghhhh! A bottle of warm milk at 3 a.m., Infant Tylenol and Baby Orajel at 4 a.m., and much cajoling back to sleep were on the agenda in the wee hours of our morning today.

    I'm here, but not mentally. Yaaaaawwwwnnnn!!!!

    (Note to Self: You just wait until there's TWO of them that keep you awake! It won't be long now.)

    (Answer to Note to Self: WAAAAAHHHHHHH! I want my Mommy!)

    Monday, March 13, 2006

    Dear Kiehl's...I Love Thee...

    I must get more of this stuff. I'm down to my last little bit, in my desperate attempt to avoid stretch marks at all costs. (That sentence was most definitely for my dear comrade, Beans. Heh...) I don't care how much it costs; it's mine, mine, mine as soon as possible. It worked before; I hope it will work again. There's a bikini waiting for me someday!


    Sunday, March 12, 2006

    Chicago Vocabulary...

    If you've ever wondered what some (not all) Chicagoans sound like, here's a little rundown of what you might expect to hear while strolling the streets of the Windy City. Enjoy! (And, no, I don't sound like this (one of my brothers-in-law definitely does), but I do say some of these things. If I say them, I've put a star next to them. Heh...)

    1. *Grachki (grach'-key):
    Chicagoese for "garage key" as in, "Yo, Theresa, waja do wit da grachki?
    Howmy supposta cut da grass if I don't git intada grach?"

    2. Uptadaendada (up-ta-da-en'-dada): Chicagoese for "up to the end of the" as in, "Joey, you kin ride yur bike uptadaendada alley but not acrost the street or I'll bust yur butt."

    3. *Sammich:
    Chicagoese for sandwich. When made with sausage, it's a sassage sammich; when made with shredded beef, it's an Italian Beef sammich, a local delicacy consisting of piles of spicy meat in a perilously soggy bun.

    4. Da:
    This article is a key part of Chicago speech, as in "Da Bears" or "Da Mare" -- the latter denoting Richard M. Daley, or Richie, as he's often called.

    5. Jewels:
    Not family heirlooms or a tender body region, but a popular name for one
    of the region's dominant grocery store chains. "I'm goin' to da Jewels to pick up some sassage."

    6. *Field's:
    Marshall Field, a prominent Chicago department store. Also Carson Pirie Scott, another major department store chain, is simply called "Carson's."

    7. Tree:
    The number between two and four. "We were lucky dat we only got tree inches of snow da udder night."

    8. Prairie:
    A vacant lot, especially one on which weeds are growing.

    9. Over by dere:
    Translates to "over by there," a way of emphasizing a site presumed familiar to the listener, as in, "I got the sassage at da Jewels down on Kedzie, over by dere."

    10. Kaminski Park:
    The mispronounced name of the ballpark where the Chicago White Sox (da Sox) play baseball. Comiskey Park was recently renamed U.S. Cellular Field (yuck!).

    11. *Frunchroom:
    As in, "Getottada frunchroom wit dose muddy shoes." It's not the "parlor." It's not the "living room." In the land of the bungalow, it's the "frunchroom," a named derived, linguists believe, from "front room."

    12. Use:
    Not the verb, but the plural pronoun "you." "Where's use goin'?"

    13. Downtown:
    Anywhere near The Lake, south of The Zoo (Lincoln Park Zoo) and north of Soldier Field.

    14. *The Lake:
    Lake Michigan. (What other lake is there?) It's often used by local weathermen, "cooler by The Lake."

    15. *BoysTown:
    A section on Halsted between Belmont and Addison which is lined with gay bars both sides of the street. "Didn't I see use in BoysTown in front of da Manhole?"

    16. *Braht:
    Short for Bratwurst. "Gimme a braht wit kraut..."

    17. Cashbox:
    Traffic reporter slang for tollbooths. "Dere's a delay at da cashbox on da Skyway."

    18. *Goes:
    Past or present tense of the verb "say." For example, "Then he goes, 'I like this place'!"

    19. *Guys:
    Used when addressing two or more people, regardless of each individual's gender.

    20. *Pop:
    A soft drink. Don't say "soda" in this town. "Do ya wanna canna pop?"

    21. *Sliders:
    Nickname for hamburgers from White Castle, a popular Midwestern burger chain. "Dose
    sliders I had last night gave me da runs."

    22. *The Taste:
    The Taste of Chicago Festival, a huge extravaganza in Grant Park featuring samples of Chicago land cuisine which takes place each year around the Fourth of July holiday.

    23. *"Jieetyet?":
    Translates to, "Did you eat yet?"

    24. Winter and Construction:
    Punch line to the joke, "What are the two seasons in Chicago?"

    25. Cuppa Too-Tree:
    Chicagoese for "a couple, two, or three" which really means "a few." For example, "Hey Mike, dere any beerz left in da cooler over by dere?" "Yeh, a cuppa too-tree."

    26. 588-2300:
    Everyone in Chicago knows this commercial jingle and the carpet company you'll get if you call that number -- Empire!

    27. Junk Djor:
    You will usually find the 'junk drawer' in the kitchen filled to the brim with miscellaneous, but very important, junk.

    28. Southern Illinois:
    Anything south of I-80.

    29. *Expressways:
    The Interstates in the immediate Chicagoland area are usually known just by their 'name' and not their Interstate number: The Dan Ryan ("the Ryan"), the Stevenson, the Kennedy, the Eisenhower (the "Ike"), and the Edens.

    30. *Gym Shoes:
    The rest of the country may refer to them as sneakers or running shoes but Chicagoans will always call them gym shoes!

    Saturday, March 11, 2006

    This Little Piggy Cried, "Wee, Wee, Wee..."

    I learned something new today and it's only 7 a.m. right now.

    I was reading this book, in the loo (of course), and found out that our "pinky" toes will someday cease to exist anymore (from lack of use, much like the disappearance of our "tails," according to Darwin). This is a prediction that was made in the Chicago Record-Herald in 1903. Eventually, ten-toed humans will be considered abnormal and eight-toed humans will be the norm. How about that?

    The article states that the little toe is at its best in childhood, but even then it is seldom much more than an apology for a toe. The disappearance of it will be gradual. As use of the foot is more and more confined to the big toe, the little toe will slowly diminish in size with each successive generation. The article also says that it is estimated that unless some very radical change is made in footwear and locomotion, the eight-toed man will be the rule and the ten-toed ones the exception. Wow.

    Perhaps that's why "this little piggy" is "crying wee, wee, wee;" it knows its days are numbered. Heh...

    Friday, March 10, 2006

    Whenever I Hear This Song...

    ...I think about my husband. I am very thankful we have such a great marriage. I wouldn't want to raise kids with anyone else...ever. *Sniff, sniff, sigh*

    Somebody - Depeche Mode

    I want somebody to share
    Share the rest of my life
    Share my innermost thoughts
    Know my intimate details
    Someone who'll stand by my side
    And give me support
    And in return
    She'll get my support
    She will listen to me
    When I want to speak
    About the world we live in
    And life in general
    Though my views may be wrong
    They may even be perverted
    She will hear me out
    And won't easily be converted
    To my way of thinking
    In fact she'll often disagree
    But at the end of it all
    She will understand me

    I want somebody who cares
    For me passionately
    With every thought and with every breath
    Someone who'll help me see things
    In a different light
    All the things I detest
    I will almost like
    I don't want to be tied
    To anyone's stings
    I'm carefully trying to steer clear
    Of those things
    But when I'm asleep
    I want somebody
    Who will put their arms around me
    And kiss me tenderly
    And things like this
    Make me sick
    In a case like this
    I'll get away with it

    Thursday, March 09, 2006

    Thirteen Months Old Already?...

    Dear Baby Jack,

    You turned thirteen months old yesterday. It's hard to believe that you've made it this far, considering who your Mother is. You are my firstborn, you know. I'm still writing the manual on how to raise you, so bear with me if it appears I don't have any idea what I'm doing.

    You're quite a curious little boy. You get into all kinds of things. You love to take every book off of every bookshelf. Since your Mama's a bookworm and a teacher, there is an unlimited supply of reading material which you make all your own. You love the toilet and have figured out how to make it flush. You also open and close the lid when I least expect you to do so, driving me insane in the process, the germophobe that I am. You also love the shower doors, which you have figured out how to open and close a thousand times in a row without getting the least bit bored. The miniblinds in the dining room are a hit with you, as well. You never tire of trying to pull them off the windows with your superhuman baby strength. You also like to bite...everything from my knee to my shoulder to your favorite blanket. You have six teeth and I think you're going to get more very soon. You've also become a pro at walking. In fact, you run now, keeping me on my toes every single moment we're together. I love it!

    You sleep like a champ now, although I'm probably jinxing it by writing it down here. You get anywhere from ten to eleven hours of straight, solid sleep a night. You go to bed anywhere between eight and nine at night and you stay asleep until around six or seven in the morning, sometimes even later. (Last night was an exception, however. Something must've been bugging you (teething?) because you fell asleep at 8pm and awoke at 1am, only to toss and turn in your crib for close to two hours. I fed you six ounces of warm milk and Papa put you back in your crib, at which point you proceeded to sing and moan yourself to sleep. I have no idea what time you actually fell asleep because I zonked out before you did. It had to be after 4am, though.) It's such a joy to watch you learn how to put yourself back to sleep. Perhaps you're aware that Mama is carrying your sibling and needs to rest now while it's possible. This doesn't mean you don't have your share of bad nights, however. You do, and they leave me winded, to say the least. However, your good nights outweigh your bad ones and, for that, I am thankful. You are also, surprisingly, growing out of the need for me to do the Mommy Bounce to get you to fall asleep. You fall asleep on your own, mostly. You like when we sing the ABC's to you as you drift into your slumber. It's really the highlight of my day. I watched you enter this world thirteen months ago and I get to watch you fall asleep each night. It's amazing how powerful a feeling that is for me. We are connected in so many ways.

    You eat everything. If it's on my plate, you want it. Anything you want to eat is exactly what you get. You have no allergies that I'm aware of and you don't turn down any types of food you're offered. This is refreshing. You also love your whole milk, with a teeny bit of Ovaltine in it, although we're weaning you from your need to have your milk taste like chocolate every single time. As long as it's slightly warm, you drink six ounces of milk in under three minutes. You've never been a baby who'd drink eight ounces at once, so we're just happy you enjoy your six. There isn't any food you haven't had yet, except for shellfish and nuts, of course. You'll have to wait a while for that. Believe me, the world is full of gastronomic pleasures which you will experience in time.

    Next Friday, you get to meet your new pediatrician. I look forward to this. He comes highly recommended, so I think you'll like him. He's not like Dr. Dipshit at all. He knows babies.

    Pretty soon, you'll be a big brother. I'm sure you'll enjoy having a live-in playmate for all the days and I'm glad I could give you that. You two can discover all kinds of things about the world together. And you can show him/her how to get into toddler trouble because you will, no doubt, be proficient at that. Heh...

    I hope I haven't let you down, so far. I'm new at this Mama business, even though I've been your Mother for what feels like my whole life. In thirteen months, we have become the best of pals, learning from each other every single day. I couldn't ask for a better life right now. And I can't thank you enough for not returning me for a full refund.


    Wednesday, March 08, 2006

    An Interesting Optical Illusion...

    Stare at the four black dots in the center of the image for 30 - 60 seconds. Then quickly close your eyes and look at something bright (like a lamp or a window with sunlight coming through it). You should see a white circle with an image inside it.

    Do you see what I see?
    Scary...but that's just my opinion. Heh...

    Tuesday, March 07, 2006

    You Think You're Fucked Up?!...

    1. Who's stoopider: George Bush or Barbara Streisand?

    2. THIS is not normal, anywhere.

    3. As sad as this information is, did anyone out there have them on their Dead Pool list? I'm such a bitch, I know.

    4. Shouldn't he be worrying about more important things?

    5. Here's a man who doesn't let fame go to his head, even though he could.

    And that's the news. Forgive me for such a boring post.

    Honestly, what I had on my mind to write about today was just a vent, of sorts. I don't think you want to hear about how much it pisses me off that my in-laws are being taken advantage of (by being enablers) by their own (almost 39-year-old) daughter (who's been living with them for the last ten years and who dates nothing but gangbangers and has two sons from two different gangbangers who are convicted felons), anyway. I mean, really...when you come back from a two-week Caribbean cruise which you took to celebrate your 50th wedding anniversary, don't you expect to have your daughter's son (your grandson who isn't old enough to drive legally and skips school more often than he goes) steal (for the umpteenth time) and smash up your car? At what point do you kick out your kid and make her responsible for her own kids and self? Is that the curse of being a Mother...never letting go? It's not like she's "getting back on her feet," since she's been off of them for the last ten years. She doesn't pay rent, either. She just works at a grocery store, and spends her money on weed, which she smokes on the balcony while ignoring her kids. "Shut up, Dork," is her favorite thing to say to her boys, you know.

    I could go on forever about this here because it's not my place to say it anywhere else, even though I wish I could just give her my unwelcomed opinion. You really don't want to know about this, do you?

    Monday, March 06, 2006

    You Know Spring Is Just Around The Corner When... see exhibition baseball scores on the news. Gosh, I can't wait to open up the windows in the house and sing, "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," at the top of my lungs.

    Sunday, March 05, 2006

    Uncle Can Do It!...

    Yesterday, Baby Jack and I went to my Mother's house. He played and played and played until he was a worn out little nub of a baby. So, it came time for him to have a nap, only it seemed like he didn't want ME to give it to him. What's a worn out nub of a Mother to do in a situation like this? Call in Special Forces: the Uncle.

    Jack's Uncle (my Brother) put Jack to sleep in less than a minute by creating a "womb." He sat in the comfy rocking chair with a large comforter over their whole bodies and Jack fell asleep right away. I'd been explaining that Jack is used to going to sleep in a dark room, even if it's noon. Our bedroom has the windows covered to prevent sunlight from waking us all up too early for our likings. So, with that in mind, my Brother made a "dark place" in his own lap and Jack fell asleep (for the first time in my Brother's arms) quicker than ever before.

    The proof is in the picture. And thank you, my Brother. I always knew you had it in you.

    Saturday, March 04, 2006

    New Pictures Of Jack...

    Tales of the "Adventurous Boy..."

    This kid loves to play in the bottom of his Supersaucer!

    This is the "Are You Taking Another Picture Of Me?" Picture.

    I call this picture, "Jack the Bruiser." He's one tough kid.

    Friday, March 03, 2006

    Help Wanted Ad...

    This is the ultimate job description of a parent.

    POSITION: Mom, Mommy, Mama, Ma
    Dad, Daddy, Dada, Pa, Papa

    JOB DESCRIPTION: Long term, team players needed, for challenging, permanent work in an often chaotic environment. Candidates must possess excellent communication and organizational skills and be willing to work variable hours, which will include evenings and weekends and frequent 24 hour shifts on call. Some overnight travel required, including trips to primitive camping sites on rainy weekends and endless sports tournaments in far away cities! Travel expenses not reimbursed. Extensive courier duties also required.

    RESPONSIBILITIES: The rest of your life. Must be willing to be hated, at least temporarily, until someone needs $5. Must be willing to bite tongue repeatedly. Also, must possess the physical stamina of a pack mule and be able to go from zero to 60 mph in three seconds flat in case, this time, the screams from the backyard are not someone just crying wolf. Must be willing to face stimulating technical challenges, such as small gadget repair, mysteriously sluggish toilets and stuck zippers. Must screen phone calls, maintain calendars, and coordinate production of multiple homework projects. Must have ability to plan and organize social gatherings for clients of all ages and mental outlooks. Must be willing to be indispensable one minute and an embarrassment the next. Must handle assembly and product safety testing of a half million cheap, plastic toys, and battery-operated devices. Must always hope for the best but be prepared for the worst. Must assume final, complete accountability for the quality of the end product. Responsibilities also include floor maintenance and janitorial work throughout the facility.

    POSSIBILITY FOR ADVANCEMENT & PROMOTION: None. Your job is to remain in the same position for years, without complaining, constantly retraining, and updating your skills, so that those in your charge can ultimately surpass you.

    PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE: None required unfortunately. On-the-job training offered on a continually exhausting basis.

    WAGES AND COMPENSATION: Get this! You pay them, offering frequent raises and bonuses! A balloon payment is due when they turn 18 because of the assumption that college will help them become financially independent. When you die, you give them whatever is left. The oddest thing about this reverse-salary scheme is that you actually enjoy it and wish you could only do more.

    BENEFITS: While no health or dental insurance, no pension, no tuition reimbursement, no paid holidays and no stock options are offered, this job supplies limitless opportunities for personal growth and free hugs for life if you play your cards right.

    Do you care to add anything to this job description? If so, please do so in the comments section. Heh...

    Thursday, March 02, 2006

    My Belly Pics At 31 Weeks...

    I love being pregnant. And, yeah...I'm still hot. Heh...

    Wednesday, March 01, 2006

    Sing, Dance, & Play...

    Baby Jack had no interest in sleeping last night. He just wanted to play and play and play in his crib. It was nearly pitch black in our room, but he didn't care. He just wanted to play and jump and laugh. What gives?

    He finally put himself to sleep at around 11:30 p.m., which is extremely late for a one-year-old to finally settle down for the night. He didn't really cry much at all. He was just wiggling around his crib, in between jumps and falls and laughs. He was only slightly fussy, but he really couldn't complain. It's not like he was in a different room and didn't know where we were. We were within spitting distance of him. Hubby and I just took turns getting out of bed, patting his butt, and laying him back down, ssssssshhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuussssssshhhhhhh-ing him the whole time. I have no idea why he wanted to play, but I know that I didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night. I hope tonight is different.

    This kid's a trip. He loves his crib so much now that he wants to play in it when it's time for sleep. Go figure. At least, though, he was able to put himself to sleep. For that, I am very, very grateful. Otherwise, I would've been doing the Mommy Bounce until the wee hours. DOH!

    SIDENOTE: Check back tomorrow for a new belly pic! You can see me at 31 weeks pregnant. Yeah...I'm still hot.