Side Effect: Sensitivity

I tried on six different shirts, a few dresses and nothing looked good. So, I put a few back on and decided on the best of the worst. I pulled myself together, put on some super cute earrings and my favorite lip gloss. I sprayed some hairspray and thought "Not bad for eight months pregnant." I got it together for a dinner party with friends. Mission accomplished.

The night was lovely. One of those nights with friends that you just don't want to end. We sat on the hosts' beautiful deck as the day turned to night. The wine flowed for (almost) everyone and stories entertained us all. The talk eventually turned to pregnancy stories. Each woman's story ended the same way. "I didn't know I was so big at the end of my pregnancy until I saw the photos." Each story. Each woman. I sat eating my homemade apple pie with homemade ice cream and just kept my chubby face quiet.

Fast forward to last night. I was at a meeting with about six other women. Once again, the conversation turned to the pregnancy. One friend said that she was guessing that I was having a girl. She hadn't heard my news and I told her yes, we were in fact having a girl. We are so excited. With two boys 19 months apart, it would be nice to have a change. A little girl. At least it will be different. Then the conversation shifted. Each woman turned it into a warning for me. "Oh just you wait. Girls are different. Wait until she gets...lippy, whinny, an attitude, bratty." I sipped my ice water and said a little prayer to God. "Oh please let her be sweet. I am sure she will someday turn into a teenager with an attitude but for a few years, can she be a sweet little girl? Please?"

I am sure that freaking out and being a little sensitive is a side effect of pregnancy. We have about 25 days until my c-section. We'll keep you posted!

What are little boys made of?
What are little boys made of?
Frogs and snails
And puppy-dogs' tails,
That's what little boys are made of.

What are little girls made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice
And all things nice,
That's what little girls are made of.

Let's hope!

Shiny Happy People

I have been quiet here in Indyworld for people that have stopped by. I apologize. I am getting to the point in my pregnancy where I realize I am obsessed and the rest of the world isn't. I also wonder what I have to say. So many people I know are struggling with some big life issues that everything I am thinking about seems to be non-blogworthy. I have a friend who's four year old just got diagnosed with a rare cancer. Friends have very sick relatives. North Korea is ready to blow us off of the map and then there's Kate minus John plus Eight. (I really don't care about that one. ) I have been too busy to sit for longer than 5 minutes to write. I love summer and I am squeezing as much fun into our summer while we still can get out. There is nothing better than a day at the pool.

My sisters and Dad decided that they were going to paint my baby's room. One of my sisters didn't care for the kelly green that Kyle picked out when he was the room's owner. I don't really mind the green and didn't want my husband to have to paint while he was studying for the New Jersey bar. He is swamped! My sisters and dad decided to rescue me. Until...I was shopping at Target while talking to my other sister on the phone. She helped encourage me to pick out some items that will work. I found a wild, beautiful rug that works with my green. Suddenly, my baby's room is transformed. Her name may be traditional but her room will be a little on the wild side. I will post pics once my husband figures out why my camera and computer are still not getting along.

So, that's what I am doing here. We'll spend another day at the pool. Cool water, a bright shiny sun and my tootsies resting in the pool sounds like a perfect day for me. What's your idea of a perfect summer day?

Wendy: Part 2

"So have you guys thought of a name?"

I cannot tell you how many times I have been asked. I know it is because people care and that they just want me to know that they are interested in what is going on in my life. But, I have to say, most times, I lie.

Why?

Because no one likes my girl names. NO ONE!

Usually, I just say we have no idea. When I am worn down or the person begs, I then go through the short list. When I get to my #1 name, the person just nods or says something close to "Hmmm." They then go with another name right after my first choice that they like better.

I used to really not like people that kept their names secret. I didn't understand it. I get it now. We're not keeping it a secret. My husband is working hard on a trial. We really haven't discussed it in weeks. Shocking, I know. We have a list and we'll get to it in the month or so. I promise. And if the baby comes early, a little extra pressure will help us to get this done.

I like traditional and kind of boring names. I can't imagine being Kaitlin, Neveah, Addison, Aaliyah, Rehanna or even Sabrina's mom. Not that there is anything wrong with the names. They are just not my boring style. We all have our own style.

I haven't written all week because I am in a sort of freak out stage of pregnancy. I have no name for my baby. My baby's room looks pretty crummy. I have stuff everywhere. I am having trouble making decisions about whether to paint or not. I am too tired to make any sort of decision and I am scatterbrained. This is the third child. I know she will survive on love, cuddles and God willing, her mother's milk (or a very good formula. Another post about this later). With the first baby, all was done. With the third, I am doing my best but running on fumes. At the most, I have about a month to go. I am hoping nesting kicks in and I get myself in gear. So for this weekend, with my husband home from a very long business trip, I hope to cross some things off of my large to-do list. We'll share the name once we have her. I think we will head into the delivery room with two choices. And then decide. There. I at least made one decision today. Done.

Bye Bye Bob. Hello Wendy!

I looked over the nurse's shoulder and reread the amnio results. She was checking my information on her computer. I was facing the screen and her back was to me. I wanted to be sure. I had to see it with my own eyes. I wanted to read what the doctor wrote about my baby's test for Down's Syndrome. So, I looked hard and read the results. It said "Negative" for Down's Syndrome. And then it said "Female." Gulp. What? Really?

"Nurse, am I reading that correctly under the amnio section? Does it read that I am having a girl? "She was a bit confused and pulled up the actual amnio results. "Yes, it is a girl." Pause. I smiled and could barely contain myself. "Oh no. You weren't supposed to know?" Wow. She left the room and I could hear the doctor and nurse talking in the hall. There were some giggles and she explained the situation to my doctor.

As I waited to see my doctor, a flood of emotions flooded in. Tears came to my eyes. I don't know how to be a mom to a girl. I have boy toys. I have boys stuff everywhere. My mind was racing. I wish I could call my mom. She would be so excited. A girl! A girl! I am really having a girl! I was giddy.

We have spent the weekend talking about names and planning to clean out our house of everything we've saved for the past five years that we can now donate. Goodbye Bob the Builder. Goodbye bulldozer and construction toys. Goodbye newborn baby blue outfits. My neutral baby's room that is ready to go is suddenly too boyish for me to call a baby girl's room. I am almost too stunned to even do anything. Me, a mother to a girl? Good thing I have eight more weeks to think of myself as a mother to a little baby girl. Wow!

Should be Required for All

My legs are swollen and I am feeling exhausted. So, I grabbed a Klondike bar, a blanket, my laptop and my remote. I tuned into a new show on MTV that is getting a lot of buzz. It's called 16 & Pregnant. Have you seen it yet?


When I first heard about it I thought it would be light hearted and might encourage teenagers to want to be parents. I thought oh great, that's just what we need in the United States. But, I started to see some ads and realized that it is a different kind of reality program. It. Is. Real. So real, that even though I am a mom of two, I am starting to freak out seeing how much work a newborn really is for the young mom. I have been there but this show brings it all back.


This weekend, my family was laughing about Lamaze and what a joke the child birth and preparation classes are. They should skip the breathing instructions and just ask who is planning on getting an epidural. That would save a lot of time. They could really skip the BS and focus on what you really need to know.


They should say:

You will get no sleep. You will learn to function on such a small amount of sleep that you'll be amazed. You will find out why sleep deprivation is a form of torture. You will soon not be able to eat at restaurants for a few years. Go out now and eat while you can take your time. Go to movies that are not rated G. Go to a mall or a bookstore and take your time. Browse. You will soon wonder where you spent your time.


They should also add:

You will learn how tough you are. You will amaze yourself. You will learn how to love unconditionally. You thought you could multitask before you had kids. You are now the MASTER of multitasking. You will be a great planner. You will soon run a tight ship. You will learn to laugh and enjoy your children. They will teach you. You will enjoy holidays more and experience your own childhood again. It will be the toughest job you have ever had but you will love it.


MTV's 16 & Pregnant should be required viewing for all new parents whether they are 16 or not. It is real. I once heard Will Smith say in an interview that once you have a baby you have to realize that you can't go back to your old life. Once you understand that, you can move on and enjoy being a parent. This program may help people better choices and prevent pregnancy. It may also help educate people so that they realize that parenting is hard work and continuous. And on top of that, 16 & Pregnant it is pretty entertaining. Set your DVR's and catch at least one episode for yourself.

Thought That Counts?

It is your child's birthday party. As the children gather and you scramble for your note pad to try to convince yourself that this time you will write thank you notes, your child opens the gift and squeals with delight. You are silently planning on how to either return the gift or hide it before your little darling opens the package:

Here are the top 7 most horrible gifts to receive:

(My sincere apologies to dear friends who may have given me the toys. You know who you are.)

1. Moon Sand. Is there anything worse? First of all, who thought to bring sand indoors? Color it? And make it available year round in the toy aisle? Damn you Moon Sand.

2. Complicated games. I know the box says 6 and up but I hate learning new games. I am not good at it and I am pretty lazy. Just stick to the classics. Please?

3. Whistles or other music equipment. I am a lover of all things music. But this has to be left to the parents to buy so they can only blame themselves. I gave out little whistles in treat bags to toddlers a few years ago. I am so ashamed.

4. Legos before you are ready. When I was first given Legos, I thought my friends hated me and wanted me to go crazy. I do not want a box with 200 parts in it. I will be the cleaner upper. No thanks! (We now love Legos and the boys usually pick them up themselves. But at age 5, ugh!)

5. Any sort of puzzle, game or figurine that you have to put together that does not come with a box. We are not good at keeping toys together. More work for me.

6. Water guns are pretty annoying. Until the kids are old enough, you are stuck helping them fill them up. Once they are old enough, you become the target.

7. Stuffed animals. My kids LOVE Webkinz. Other than that, stuffed animals are quickly donated to Project Night Night. A few have made it through to their beds. A few. The rest are donated, given to the dog or are used as in house footballs.

So as you can see, it is all about ME! Even if these toys bring hours of enjoyment to my children, I rate them on how much work it takes for me to maintain. So, please skip the Moon Sand, the complicated games and the whistles. With a little girl on the way, I am sure I will be able to add to this list. Please, oh please, no Bratz dolls or make-up for my toddler/preschooler. So, what would you add? I am sure every mom has her favorites.

What Happens In Ohio Stays in Ohio

My sister and her husband are in Vegas. Lucky dogs. I am here in Ohio watching her three kids.

When my sister left, she said her baby (17 months) was a little cranky. Just alternate between Tylenol and Advil as needed. OK. I can do that.

So my sis left for the airport and the baby slept for hours. So many that I started to worry and wonder if she'd ever sleep at night. So, I woke her up. Fed her dinner, Tylenol and gave her a bottle (even though she is almost weaned) and put her to bed early at 7:15 p.m. She was so cranky. Nothing else worked. She then slept until 10:15 a.m. I have never had that happen before. I was afraid she was unconscious. So, I woke her up. I have never done that before as a parent and have done it twice so far this week!

So today, she is a mess. Cranky and nothing is making her happy. She has slept a lot and has hardly eaten. I gave her a bath tonight and put her right back to bed. And away she sleeps.

So what do I say when they call? Luckily I missed their first call today. I know they will call again tonight. Do I go with the "little cranky" or the honest truth? I just don't know. When you are a four hour flight away and you never get to enjoy yourself, do you really want to know that your baby isn't feeling so hot? Do you want the truth or a gentle little lie? The baby isn't sick enough to go to a pediatrician but not well enough to just play and hang out.

I think I will try the gentle truth approach. She's cranky but sleeping a lot. That doesn't sound to bad does it? That doesn't ruin your vacation does it? It is truthful enough, right? We'll see. I hope the right words come out to not worry my sister. Instead of the usual what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, I am going with the what happens in Ohio, stays in Ohio. Mums the word, people.

Little Pink Houses For You & Me

This a true story. I don't think I would believe it if I didn't see it with my own eyes.

We went to the Walleye Festival in Port Clinton near Sandusky, Ohio. Yes, there is such a thing. I could be judgemental about the type of folks that we saw but I am not talking about it. This was America at its finest. As I looked out at the crowd, I felt for the American school teacher. What a job! To educate our children. To teach these people to read and write. To create miracles, that is what they do. Anyway, we walked along the festival admiring the people and the food.

My husband was the first to visit the port-a-potties with Kyle. Bless him for not making me go. When he came back he said that the port-a-potty had an attendant. I thought that maybe he meant someone to tell you which one was open. I have seen that at art shows. No, a real attendant. I shrugged it off.


When I could hold it no longer I visited the facilities myself. And guess what I saw? I swear I did. A. Real. Attendant. Really. Like the one I wrote about here. She had hand sanitizer, tampons, candy and paper towels. AND SHE HAD A TIP JAR! At a fair! I couldn't believe my eyes and couldn't stop talking about it. Here are pics to prove I am not lying. Be sure to check out the sign suggesting that you tip.

The tips sign says "Tips are appreciated. Thank you. The attendant."

This has to be the most ridiculous thing I have seen in a long time. One of my relatives (who shall remain nameless to protect her identity, ADW, thought that it was a good idea.) Really? There is nothing that an attendant can do to make my visit any better. They are disgusting. They smell and I am grossed out by them. But, I am also thankful that I have place to go to do it in private. No attendant can enhance my visit. No way. So sorry attendant. I will not give you a dollar so that I may pee. Ain't that America, for you and me.

Borderline

I heard Madonna's song "Borderline" today on the radio. Can you believe the song is 25 years old? I can't. It was released in 1984. Feeling old yet?

Anyway, yesterday my sister asked me if I would write about a friend online in my blog. I told her no. There has to be a line that you don't cross. If you cross it, you lose friends and relatives will stay away. You can't break that trust. I never want someone to be afraid to be real with me because they are afraid it will end up here. There are times when I am so tempted. I am missing out on some very good blogging material. You can't even begin to imagine some stories about relatives I could share. Some of them probably can't read so I should be safe. But, I won't cross that line.

There is also an activity that one of my sons is involved in that would provide at least one blog a week but I can't go there either. Maybe some day but for now, the secret is safe with me. If you read Facebook and you are a friend, you could probably figure out what I am talking about here.

And anything to do with my husband is pretty much off limits. I never want an employer to read something about him that may impact his career. It is a line I don't have trouble not crossing. I just don't go there.

This whole Jon & Kate debate got me thinking that we all have our own lines that we won't cross. Some people use fake names for their children in their blogs. I use my children's names but not my own. I don't share my city but I do mention my area. I use real pictures and stories. My stories about my children aren't too embarrassing but are cute memories that I never want to forget. I share my own feelings and find it easier to write than talk sometimes about how I am feeling. I am usually more embarrassed to find out a friend is reading this than a stranger. I am usually shocked that I get as many readers as I do.

So no, dear sister, I won't be writing about my friend. I won't be writing about your little darlings that I am babysitting for four days next week while you go to Vegas. I won't be writing about how green with envy I am and how I am stuck at home pregnant and with five children. I won't take their pics if you don't want me to and share them online. I won't write about it all. But I will be so tempted. But I won't cross that line.