Our Last Date

Whew. After two long weeks of worry and concern and maybes we got some confirmation last Thursday suggesting that all was fine after all and thank you very much modern medicine. As a result, instead of being induced on Thursday afternoon, my husband and I came home from the specialist and crashed. As in stumbled into the condo and onto horizontal surfaces and slept all day. Obviously the scare and the drama of baby ills wore us out.
By Saturday morning, when we were done being thankful to the world and catching up on rest was no longer a necessity, we started to become slightly... I hate to admit it, bored. Since we had been under the impression that we might be in the hospital with a child this very day- all plans had been previously either not scheduled or canceled. We muddled through the day with some fishing and movie rentals, but ultimately, I could not help but think of the advice I have been so frequently given, "Enjoy your time now, while it lasts."
After about the 25th time I caught this thought running through my head, my mind began conjuring up ideas, and before I knew it, our "last date" was born. My husband, equally bored, thought this sounded alright as well, because there was really no way we could have another fishing/movie day...
So yesterday, in what I consider to be a day with the absolute most perfect weather available, off we went to the Graue Mill and dinner after at our favorite restaurant, Francesca's.
Because the Graue Mill is on our route to our specialist's office, we have been increasingly intrigued as to the park's offerings. Historic websites generally do not do justice, as was the case for this nifty little spot- complete with scenery, a museum, walking trails, and your overly informed and interested tour guides. But it was gorgeous and interesting and very pleasant.
Our dinner was excellent as well, as we knew it would be. Luckily, a Christmas gift card awaited us and therefore, the large bill at the end of our feast did nothing to squaush our spirit.
Upon arrival at home, I felt satisfied with our "last date", espeically considering that neither my husband nor I are much for "dates"- it was a nice day.

Wait... Is the End Near?

Since I am hearing all sorts of things regarding my delivery date- one being that I will be induced at 37 weeks, which lands Thursday- and I am taking my computer in today for a week's long work worth of maintenance- this may very well be the last post I manage to squeak out before the BIG DAY.
The house is coming together- and while I have managed to throw out most junk I have managed to accumulate over the years, we are still quite "full." In addition, my Mom is here for a two day visit to help me whip some last things into shape, as well as her trial run on the dining room-turned-spare-bedroom-futon and after the first night agreed we should go to Kohl's to buy some "eggshells", which we are preparing to do now.
The husband is fortunately taking off of work on Wednesday and Thursday as well, meaning yet another extra pair of hands either around the house to help or if all is complete to at least... "hang out with me" during my last few potential free days.
I do not feel anxious, excited, or worried at the moment. I feel mostly reflective, but not in a sentimental way- more like in a I-Am-the-CEO-of-the-Company-and-Where-are-We-at? kind of a way. I wouldn't want to head into child delivery without plenty of toilet paper, dish soap, and peanut butter on the home front...Organization Station.
I guess this means that I am ready- so weather or not I am waiting until the end of the week or waiting until the middle of next month- all is well and good. I will do my best to keep you posted!

The Baby's Room Artists

Last Friday night, because it's been awhile and also due to my impending special delivery it could be another long "while", I scheduled an overnight with my neice... and while her Mom, Jen, warned me that "she was excited"... I myself didn't admit that I was ALSO very excited.

You see, my neice and I have something in common that I share with very few other people- we both like to paint. Paint paintings, that is. And while that may not seem to be such a special thing, it is. Because we like to paint together... social painting, if you will. Chitting and chatting and dipping and mixing. It's like when two musicians find each other at a party and proceed to jam to each other's vibe the whole night through, forgetting the world around them exists. Or it's like when peanut butter found jelly, say... or even when salt discovered pepper.

I made sure, before she even arrived, that I had canvases available for both of us, and when she did finally get here and we got to work, it was like magic. Before we began, I reminded her of some painting basics, and then I explained to her that I was going to try and emulate a quilt square from the nursery to hang on the wall as a decoration.

We worked in a peaceful, syncrhonized harmony- talking here and there, but relatively lost in our own respective artist worlds for over and hour. Her end product was fabulous and I will be hanging HER painting in the baby's room as well.

And maybe I am biased, but I think her composition is awesome for an eight year old, and her use of color, space and balance show a real talent.
Not to mention, I haven't had that much fun in ages.

Better Places

I have been in better places, that's for sure.
Last week, during my 35 week appointment, my Dr. seemed a tad surprised when he noticed that my belly was "measuring small", words that are now haunting me. He sent me for an ultrasound, which resulted in a slew of appointments and stress tests and additional this and thats.... ultimately, this little boy inside of me is as tiny as can be. He's only measuring at 33 weeks or so, which in baby world is huge considering they can calculate down to the day.
At first I was not worried, because his little tiny vitals seem to be great- good heart rate, good movement, good dopplers and all the others things that babies need to have for good health.
But as the days wear on and the doctors continue to pick up the pace of the stress tests and ultrasounds, I am losing my confidence. I know that it isn't fair to the tiny little guy to worry and to slow down on excitely preparing for his arrival, but all of sudden it seems as if that is on hold.
The specialist suggested he would like to induce me the second I hit 37 weeks, which is only a week and a half away. But he doesn't want to see me for TWO weeks, so I am not sure if he thought all that through. In the meantime, I hadn't gotten word from the Dr.'s I normally see or the specialist as to who was in charge for now.
This morning I woke up feeling as if it was time to pull my head out of the sand, so to speak. No more allowing the nice Dr.'s to tell me all was okay and they would see me in two days. I called my regular Dr. and she was straight with me, like I wanted her to be. She confirmed that I have every right to be nervous, just like I thought. I know worry will not get me anywhere, but how can you not? Who wouldn't? It's a crazy place to be. For me, it's better to be validated than to question your feelings in addition to all the other stuff that is going on.
My husband and I have decided to keep busy for now, and to keep our chin's up, but I am admittedly scared. We have up to a few more weeks of this, so we need to brace ourselves for anything. That's a pretty broad spectrum...I am praying that he is healthy, but my enthusiasm has surely been dampened.

The End Is Near

What is it? What did they eat? Or drink? The kids are OUT of their MINDS. It's total chaos here at the school. With the "Prom" finally behind us, Seniors out for the year, and only graduation and finals in front of us, there are fewer and fewer things to "dangle" in front of the students to bribe them into behaving.
This year it's particularly stressful for me becuase I feel torn between tying up my regular end of the year loose ends and preparing sub plans for the Fall when I will be knee deep in diapers and late night feedings. And while the sub can always call me, every additional detail written down in the "binder" is one less phone call to answer when I will truly NOT care at all.
And it's unbelievable to me that somewhere in the weekend, squeezed between my very last, and thank-you-very-much, bountiful baby shower and a retirement dinner at an incredibly fattening and SO-HOT-I-WAS-SWEATING-WHILE-EATING Japanese steakhouse there was a wonderful Spa Day complete with the sisters, Mom and Grandma that was absolutley splendid. Well, splendid except for my facial girl, and while she was quite nice, she did use me as a sounding board to clairfy her marital problems. But that aside... the Spa Day itself was over the top great.
And even when my massuese and I were laughing at my huge body on the tiny table and how it was cumbersome to move and my boobs kept flopping out of the sheet ( sorry people, these things are new to me.... I haven't exactly figured out how to exert control over those babies yet.. ) it was mah-va-lous.
If only I could have bottled me up some of that Spa Day to sip in doses this week. Sigh. Only five more pregnant days of school.

The Squeeze

I have never been one that can appreciate the pomp and circumstance of routine and attention. I dreaded my graduation from high school, didn't attend my graduation from college, anxiously awaited my wedding showers and feel no differently now that I am in the midst of baby showers.
I have had two thus far. One hosted by my "city girlfriends", the next by my "co-workers"... which doesn't sound fair because they are also my friends, and then next weekend, last but certainly not least, the "family" shower.
And while I feel like an elephant in a China shop at such events, particularly when I am the guest of honor, I have been doing my best to initiate, salivate, and gratiate all over the place so that everyone feels welcome, appreciated and thanked. And the fact of the matter is that I am very thankful.
When I initially created a baby registry, I nearly had a panic attack and had 911 dialed in on my cellular. Luckily, hearty Italian fair and a good dose of cheesecake alleviated the necissity for me to actually have to place that call... but it did result in some heartburn as well as a dose of insomnia. I had no idea I would need so much... STUFF. Not only was I concerned about where I would PUT the STUFF, I also didn't know how I was going to PAY for the STUFF. I had thoughts like.. ... Well, we could always spend five hundred dollars on the stroller we HAVE TO HAVE and I can lock it up with a bike chain to our grill. Or we could live without a crib, right? The kid can sleep in a nicely padded cardboard box? I know our child may actually not survive unless we buy him the "techno-euro-space-saver 5000" car seat, but will a used one from our friends be good enough?

Eventually, the insomnia led to some plotting, and the plotting led to some discussion, and the discussion led to some fighting with the husband which eventually turned into mature adult discusion and then ultimately to a "grand master plan". Which basically meant throw out everything you own and love and currently use, like the dining room table, and make room for baby. End of story. It has been working for us.

And so as the stuff rolls in, which again, I am very thankful for, I am realizing not so quickly that the "grand master plan" was not GOOD enough. Because the truth is our place isn't BIG enough. But we will make it work. Too bad someone I know isn't into Longaberger basket sales or they would make a killing off of me. Which has turned into my go to for "extra-storage solutions". Not Longabergers, per say... but BASKETS. I currently know a heck of a lot about what baskets are out there.
At any rate. The showers have been fabulous and my friends generous. More than I feel we deserve but we do appreciate it( really, I had to say that yet again). With most of the major items off of our registry purchased we have some financial breathing room. So really, I have no right to make any complaints. It's just if you come over and I ask you to sit in the crib for dinner, please understand we are just a tad bit tight on space.

Cracked Up

The week? Highs and lows, my friends, highs and lows. Crown fell off- which led to an emergency dental visit. Twice got to work and had forgotten something at home and had to turn around and come back and get it (pregnant brain, anyone?). Got lost taking the behavior disordered students to the Museum of Science and Industry. Behavior disordered students tried to UN PLUG HUGE displays and dismantle large computer systems while AT the Museum of Science and Industry. Had to turn in my FMLA request ( and for those of you who DON'T know me- this is, to me, a commitment... and you can guess how well I managed THAT...). Had our friends over for pizza and while I was looking forward to their visit I had ulterior motives of confirming and negotiating our child care needs for next Fall... ( mission accomplished, and I will not brag, at this moment, about our extremely fortunate set-up- but let's just say the price is beyond reasonable). This amid a night class, a switch to 4:45 am work outs, a Dr. appointment, swimming class, groceries, dinner, and laundry- and the kids not even HERE yet!
OF course, me being me, and me being PREGNANT me to boot- this led to a melt down of sorts last night. While listening to my phone messages at the tail end of our evening ( and a good hour or so post normal bed time ) my husband gently hugged me in the most loving of fashions. His hand slipped dangerously close to my behind and while I normally would giggle and squirm I instead roared at him at the top of my lungs the obvious..., " DON'T DO MY CRACK!", poltergeist style. After my eyes rescinded back into my head I looked at him and we began to giggle hysterically.
Actually, we were laughing so hard we had to sit down on the couch so as not to fall over. WHILE laughing so hard, my body emitted a disgusting and embarrassing series of uncontrollable farts. And of course, while my husband began to laugh harder, I suddenly, to his shock, became irate. Next poltergiest moment enter here, ( Poor, poor husband) " WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME?"... and then I exited stage left, ran to the bedroom and began to cry hysterically.
And while I knew this was in-SANE... I could not stop the eMOTion. Luckily for me the very patient husband was there to comfort me back to reality... Needless to say, the last 20 minutes of my week very much emulated the week in general.
I slept heavily and am already not sure that was really ME last night. However, considering my husband's walk on eggshells approach towards me upon waking confirmed that yes, it had to have been true.
Eight more weeks, people... EIGHT more weeks.