Ramble Sans Picture

Well, tomorrow we start the nursery.  My lil’ sis is coming to help me.  I’ve tried to prepare her for what we are going to do, but I’ve left out one teeny tiny detail to ensure her arrival.  I didn’t tell her that she’s gonna have to do most of it.  (hee hee, you’re already on your way, Kristen!! When you get here it will be too late!)

We have to tear out carpet and a closet.  The closet has to go so that we can fit two cribs in.  I’ve decided to just do two cribs from the get-go.  Not because I’ve decided on sleeping arrangements, or had any major parenting philosophy breakthrough, but mostly because they are $149 on sale right now at JC Penny.  (Which is actually MUCH cheaper than Target… weird.)

I am also eating healthy again, which I’ve probably mentioned 42 times, but it just feels soooo damn good to be back on my usual diet.  For lunch today I had the wrap I mentioned in my hummus post.  For breakfast I made my cooks-while-you’re-in-the-shower omelet (simply get a pan going with a little onion, spinach, peppers, or whatever you like.  Dump two scrambled eggs over it, put a lid on it, and turn the burner to low.  The omelet will steam while you shower.)

I also got to savor the flavor of Campbells tomato soup made with a can of water the way it should be last night because Allan wasn’t home.  He always makes it with milk and a pat of butter, which I have been deferring to for FIVE YEARS now.  Because I am just one of those wives that likes to keep her man happy (insert eye roll here).

Well, that’s it.  Babies and Food.  Not much else to come to this blog for.  Oh, except gossip… like the perpetual hooker that just moved back to town, pregnant with her spring-fling’s bay-bay.  She’s trying to pass this little bundle of joy off as her sugar daddy’s.  Even if that works, we can all hope that her summer of margarita’s, dick, and cigarettes isn’t going to adversely affect her little one.

Oh yeah, I went there.

 

 

 

My Memory Card Runneth Over–Fall Edition

In which our heroine plays the role of wildlife photographer.

This is why we had to wear boots at Kristen’s wedding.  Every three feet, one of these palm-sized spiders was chillin’ in his two foot diameter web.  It was awesome.  Awesomely FREAKY!!

Lemon Spinach Hummus

Might be another two post day!!  Because I am now officially taking two mini-lunches instead of one big lunch break.  I just get full so fast.  And regardless of how much I eat, I still get famished 75 minutes later.  So, I’ve divided my lunch into two half-hour time periods, if only the public that I serve would just leave me alone.

So here we go… Post #1 in which our heroine performs magic with garbanzo beans…

I heated a pan to medium heat with a couple of swirls of olive oil in it and cooked a diced up clove of garlic.  When I could smell the garlic (mmmm) I added a drained can of chickpeas (aka garbanzo beans).  I let them cook for a few minutes, then started adding handfuls of spinach (about half a bag) to the pan, letting it wilt in the heat.  Oh!! And about a tablespoon of sesame seeds.  When the spinach was good and wilted, I sprinkled some salt over everything before squeezing the juice and zesting the peel of half a lemon.

Then, everything went into the food processor (which I had found during Super Clean Up #1, in which the boxes in the entryway were tackled and removed.)

Meanwhile, I quartered up some pita bread, and toasted it at 400 degrees for about ten minutes (keep an eye on it, I might have broiled it for three, I honestly can’t remember.)

One of my favorite ways to use is hummus is on a veggie wrap.  Take a large tortilla, generously spread hummus all over it.  Top with sprouts, spinach, avocado, a little onion or pepper, tomatoes, and flax seed!

I have officially given up on General Mills cereals and returned to the offerings of the earth.  Thank God!!

‘Bout Time Baby Pics

Here is what might be the blurriest ultrasound picture ever posted on the internet, but if you blur your eyes and cross your toes, you can probably make them out!

And sadly, I think this appointment might have been the last time that they will be ultrasound-photographed together.  They are getting so big!

As am I.  This is me the day before the ultrasound pictured above.

And this is me two weeks later at 16 weeks, 4 days, and one serving of lasagna.  (See that stack of books?  I should be working.)

 

Memorabilia

This might be the week of pictures.  I have a bunch on my camera that I’ve been wanting to get up, but between the age of my Dell and the technical assistance of Kaspersky Internet Security, I don’t even want to log on at home.  In fact, I think I’m gonna have my internet service turned off until I get a new computer.

So, a few week ago, as a first step toward getting that baby room ready for babies, I had to tackle the closet in the other spare room, that has housed boxes of my stuff dating back to 1989.  Seriously.  1989.  I went through EVERYTHING box by box.  I got rid of a lot.  Read a lot of the stuff I had written years ago, saving some, tossing some.  Here’s some of the stuff that just had to stay!

This was a self esteem builder in the second grade.  Someone like me because of my socks.  Take that Robyn!!

My very first journal, complete with an inpenatrable lock and an entry detailing my hurt feelings at a slumber party.

College letters!  Oh, I LOVED mail in college.  It wasn’t before email, but we all grew up writing each other, even if we were in the same class, so it made sense to just keep writing.  Me and my dormy friends would check mail on the way into the cafeteria for lunch, and I had a bright colorful letter almost everyday!  Thanks Krystal and Robyn!

And Luke… my high school pen pal.  Robyn and I met him and his buddies our freshman year at a BPA state meet.  It was the start of many, many letters, cross-Montana road trips, late night phone calls, and a fifteen year friendship.

There was also the Tiffany boxes that the necklace that I wear every, every day came in.  My diplomas.  My caps.  The newspaper articles for every class that graduated when I was in high school.  A little bean lizard that I got in Pheonix.  Notebook and notebooks FULL of notes passed in class.  I consolidated it down to a trunk.  One trunk.  Ok, and two boot boxes.  In the archival world, we would say 3 cubic feet.  I’d done good.  I’d consolidated all that crap memoribilia and was able to hang witner coats, store our luggage, and keep some paints for when I take up painting again.  I’d done good.

Then… Then I started watching Clean House.  I looooove Clean House.  I record a couple episodes during the week, then on Saturday mornings, I watch them in bed and marvel at the amount of stuff that people manage to accumulate!  Just stuff piled on top of stuff.  Stuff not even taken out of shopping bags or packaging!  Totes and hampers and piles.  I watch that, I watch the team help the family eliminate their clutter, and I would realize, that sure, my house has small piles, but it’s not that bad. It’s not unmanageable.  And I get out of bed, and I manage shit.

On Saturday night, just before Halloween festitivities, Allan and I caught the episode of the Messiest Home in America.  I realized that while I had reorganized all my crap, what’s the point of all the crap, if it doesn’t have a purpose.  And alot of it, it’s only purpose is to be there.  Like, all the notes and letters.  Do I ever pull them out?  Do I ever sit and read them?  Only when I’m moving them from one closet to another, and only three or four of them even then.  And the stuff, what’s the stuff doing in the closet?  If it’s stuff I really love, then it deserves a place in my home.  If it’s stuff I intend to read, then it needs a shelf.

So, on Sunday, I re-tackled the closet.  Of course, I’m not touching the letters yet.  But I did open some of the totes that I had packed away.  I emptied one and used it to pack up garage sale stuff for next spring… books that have been on my shelf but never touched, trinkets that I have but don’t love, cds that will never be listened to or downloaded, etc.  It not only felt good, but I found some nice framed pictures to put up, and a nightlight for the nursery!

Allan even got bit by the bug, because while I was doing all that, he was rearranging and deep cleaning our bedroom!

It feels good.  And while it’s nice to have memories, it’s nice to let them go and make room for new ones.

Boo!

Scare ya?  I didn’t think so.

Halloween.  Dry Halloween.  Drinkless Halloween.  Scary!  But we are still going out, cause we have the BEST costumes!  I’m going as Octomom and Allan is going as my sperm donor.  See, it’s funny cause we did IVF!  See?  My props will include engorged lips, oversized shades, eight babies, and donation information.  Allan will have a “sample” cup, a bottle of lotion, some dirty dvds, and a turkey baster!!  Aren’t we the cleverest?  Well, us and Molly anyway, since she guessed it based solely on the request for a mid-to-long black wig.  (And yes, Molly, there are just twins!)

All the adult parties in town are tonight, so for the actual holiday, we are going to go over to Allan’s sister’s house.  They waaaaay decorate!  We’re gonna help them tonight and tomorrow.  If I get ambitious, I might make Barefoot Contessa’s Pumpkin Mousse Parfait.  I am totally craving sweet things, which is sooo unlike me.  I used to not have a sweet tooth at all,  but could totally justify eating a bag of potato chips and a bowl of french onion dip (having mentioned it, that might just be dinner tonight!).  I think the newly acquired sweet tooth might be to keep me from swelling up!  Isn’t the human body amazing!  Mostly, in the palate area?  Thousands of little taste buds guiding us to the food we need and away from the food that will make us swell up like deer ticks.  Amazing.

Also, in other slightly-food-related news… my babies are the size of avocados this week, and coincidentally, I’ve began replacing mayonaisse with avocado on my sandwiches.  Because Jillian, on the Biggest Loser, said to.  And what Jillian says, goes.

Well, I’ll put pictures up!  Maybe this afternoon since I’m gonna enter the campus costume party.  First, second, and third prizes are cash.  I could use some cash.

Ok, I’m gonna get back to work.  Everyone be super safe this weekend.  If you are in my town, you can TOTALLY call me to be your designated driver.  I’m in the book, and curiosity will force me to answer any phone calls after ten p.m.

Also, one other little thing…. City Council elections are on Tuesday.  Everyone should vote.  I soooo want to tell you who to vote for, but I won’t.  The write-in canidate has a blog.  I’m not saying that’s who I’m voting for, but I am encouraging everyone to educate themselves as much as they can.

 

Ya gotta keep ‘em vaccinated…

That’s what I had in my head after I got vaccinated yesterday.  Ya gotta keep ‘em vaccinated, heeeeey-ayy-ay-ah ay.  And then the guitar doing that surfer thing that it does… You know what I’m talking about right?  That Offspring song from the mid-nineties?  No… well…

Anyway.

I got the vaccine yesterday!  Phew!  Then this morning I get to work, and this chick comes in and is all, “Cough, cough, Hey, umm.  Can you help me? cough. I want to look up some info on that H1N1, but I don’t know how to use the computer.  Will you type for me?”

No.  EW.  No.  Maybe I’m snobby, maybe that request does fall well within my job description, but no.  I handed her the CDC information sheet we have, and reached for the purrell.  Nope, not gonna sit, let alone TYPE at a public computer terminal.  Vaccinated or not!

On another note entirely…

A couple weeks ago, I was this close to posting a picture of my boobs.  They were fantastic!!  The boobs that men and women BOTH dream of!  I know the picture would’ve been printed out and taken into plastic surgeon’s offices all over Southern California.   Then a spider fell in my shirt, and nibbled on my beautiful new tatas.  The scratching that ensued took off the top layer of skin.  When that finally cleared up, I noticed that my nipples, like snowbirds heading to an RV city in Arizona, had headed south.

When it’s just me alone in the bathtub at night, and my make-up is running, and my hair is kinda-wet, but kinda-not, and with the southerly pointing nips and the protruding belly and the saggy ass cheeks, it’s like Britney Spears circa 2007 is staring back at me from the mirrors around the tub.  Scary, huh?  Wouldn’t it be a great Halloween costume?  I could put on some denim shorts, a tank top, oversized sunglasses, and flip-flops, tweak my nipples a bit, grab a frap, and I would be set!!

Enough boob talk.  I just wanted to point out that as I enter the 15th week of this pregnancy, the option of putting my boobs on the internet has officially passed.  The last remaining youthful shred of girlhood has shed itself, and I am officially occupying the body of a woman.

I still have my triceps though.  Perhaps, a slide show of my triceps is in order!

Swine Cooties

Ugh… It’s everywhere, isn’t it?  Sick people, sniffles, loogies.  Effing Loogies.   A guy was in the library yesterday, hacking lungs on his computer, then he got up, walked by my desk and hawked the BIGGEST loogie into my garbage can.  I was seeing red and using words that are spelled with punctuation symbols.  GO HOME.  Geez, go home and play play station and listen to your ipod and eat fruit loops… or whatever it is that men extending their adolescence by six years do.

Public libraries… petri dishes of germs and bacteria.  The backs of my hands look like snake skin boots brought to you by the latest designer, Purrell.  I HATE touching the public computers.  EW.  The mouses and keyboards, ew ew, ew.  They, like, sweat the disgustingness of sweaty palms.  Especially since this pregnancy has me highly sensitive to the smells of others, leaning over the keyboards to just turn the computers on is as bad as picking up still damp tissues.  GROSS, HUH?  I know.  It makes me want to weep with disgust.  Coughers, hackers, dirty fingers, hair, EWWWWW!

My niece has the swine flu.  And Allan rides to work with her father/his brother.  The 2 degrees of separation from the swine flu has me in a near state of panic.  But what has me in a near state of blistering anger is that I can’t get vaccinated.  And in case anyone is new to this blog, I’m pregnant.  And in case anyone is new to swine flu headlines, that puts me in the TOP THREE of people who should be vaccinated.  The PUBLIC HEALTH NURSE is denying vaccines to pregnant women.  Apparently our county’s health service isn’t familiar with swine flu headlines, either.  They want us prego’s to get the vaccine at our OB office where there is a doctor on site.  Ok, so why not give the clinic in our hometown enough of the injectable vaccine to cover those pregnant women that are being removed from their list?  I’ve called twice and left smiling messages, just wanting to discuss their decision and weigh out my options to get vaccinated without having to drive to Billings.  (And if I do have to drive to Billings, I think that the county should reimburse travel expenses to those that are having to travel to get the vaccine.  Especially when they are in the TOP THREE.)  What REALLY makes me angry is the no-call-back.  Why??  Why won’t you answer my questions?  I am Public.  And I am in the high-risk category, so CALL ME BACK.  Hurry, before I start crying into your voicemail.

Tirade.

haha.

13 weeks, 6 days

We are officially in the second trimester.  One day I feel super great, and the next day I feel like I’m trying to make it through week 7 again.

This morning I got up a little early and popped in my prenatal yoga dvd for the first time.  OHHHH, why have I been waiting??  It was sooooo goood.  It loosened my hips and reminded me that I have hamstrings on the back of my legs.  I could feel my spine re-align itself.  And trying to get into some poses that I haven’t visited for, oh, 7 weeks, I think I can say that there is definitely some abdominal changing going on.  (yay!)  In child’s pose, I had to spread my knees to accommodate the little ones, and in the cat-cow flow I found myself curling around my belly.

And I just love yoga talk.  You know, the “connect with your breath” and “heal on inhalation.”  This morning the voice said, “connect with your baby” and it dawned on me that I can start connecting with them.  I don’t know why this idea seemed so new to me.  I’ve been doing nothing but reading and studying pregnancy.  I guess in addition to looking for answers and cues “out there”, I can start looking inward.

Ommmmm.

The Best Weekend/The Worst Weekend

The Best Weekend

I ventured to Three Forks this weekend for my Granddad’s 90th birthday party.  I kept repeating on the way home, “God, I just had the best time.”  Cause I did.  I rode up with my lil’ sis, who has the cutest new haircut!  And we got to catch up, which is always fun, even if it’s been two weeks.  It was so nice to catch a glimpse of the state’s fall colors before waking up to snow yesterday morning.

I also got to visit with my aunties!!  It felt like such a treat because I had just seen everyone at Kristen’s wedding, and then got to see everyone again a month later.  That never happens!  I love listening to my aunts laugh.  When they laugh together, it’s like a choir, a harmony.  I hope my laughter mirrors their laughter someday.

My Granddad… Oh, Granddad.  He’s 90, but nowhere near 90.  Kristen jitterbugged with him at her wedding.  He’s witty and capable.  He still lives on the ranch he was born on.  The home that he was born in, is less than an acre from his home.  And he’s kept it up, like a museum, a tribute to the turn of the century before the last turn of the century.

He came up to me and said, “Now, I don’t hear much these days, but I did hear that you are in a twin situation.”  I smiled and nodded and delivered my well-worn, “we’re so excited” line.  He mentioned that I was following in the family footsteps and that his dad’s mother was a twin and his sister had twins.  I didn’t explain about cheating with IVF, he probably wouldn’t have heard anyway, and really, I wanted to hear what he had to say rather than explain the science of conception.  He continued, “My dad told me once that I was a twin.”

I said, “Really?”  I’d never heard that before.

“Yeah, he told me that the boy died, but the turd survived.”

I laughed and said, “Your dad must have been quite a card.”

He shook his head saying, “I don’t know about that.  It actually kinda hurt my feelings.”

The Worst Weekend

On the way across the state, I started bleeding again.  Like, WHOA, alot.  Right through my pants.  I told myself over and over and over and over, “Stay calm.  The doctor told you this would happen.”  I prayed.  I called Allan to pray.  Then I would start to picture having to tell people that I wasn’t pregnant anymore.  I pictured having to give back the bassinet and the bouncy chairs.  I started to dread that everything was going to go back to the way it was, pretending to have fun in smoke-filled bars.  I questioned WHY ME.  Then it would hit me again, like a fresh thought, “Oh yeah, the doctor told me this would happen.”   When I went up to the doctor the day after the last bloodbath, he had showed me on the ultrasound a pocket of blood that “might be reabsorbed by my body, or may show up in the next couple of weeks.”  So I would turn to Kristen and say, “The doctor said…” like it was new information.

We stopped in Manhattan and had cafe food… DELIGHTFUL cafe food.  Homemade french fries and gravy.  Gravy makes everything a little bit better. Pleasant distraction.  But still, the fear and panic was scratching at the surface wanting to escape.

I made it through the birthday party, making frequent checks in the bathroom to monitor the color and flow (I think its safe to say I’ve lost my male readers).  As things started to look better and better, I knew it was just like before.  Everything would be ok.  Just like before.  I took yesterday afternoon off and relaxed, but being at home is getting to be less and less relaxing with that nursery just staring at me, wanting attention.

And today, today I am super giddy.  I’m finally starting to actually feel pregnant, not like before when it would just pop into my head, “Oh yeah, I’m pregnant.”  I have found a stroller thingy for $99 that many infant car seats will fit, AND it’s a double.  I found the fabric for the crib bumper that I wanted, but instead of paying $110 for it, I’m going to make it for $16 plus the stuffing stuff.  Diaper sites aren’t scaring me anymore.  And… I kinda have their names picked out!!!  I’m not telling, but I will say that these are the first names to make me smile and feel kinda giddy.  Ok, super giddy.

And… to close, how about a name-the-babies story.  Jack and Ruby.  OH, how I love these names, have had them tucked in my secret name spot since we started thinking multiples.  At Kristen’s rehearsal dinner I was sitting across from my escort guy (the groomsman-type, not the by-the-hour-type) and he asked me if I had names picked out.  I figured I can tell this guy, he’s not going to tell everyone or jinx me.  So I’m like, “Jack and Ruby” and then sat there with this TA-DA look on my face.

Absolutely appalled, he says, “Ah no, man, you can’t do that.”

I get all defensive.  “Why?”

He leans across the table and says, “Because Jack Ruby killed Lee Harvey Oswald.”

Well, damn.  If there are any rules left for naming children, I guess it’s that they can’t be named after murderers.  “These are my sons, Charles and Manson.”  Ummm, no.  Doesn’t work.