Happy Monday, everyone! It's been a while since I updated, so I made a point to sit down for a bit this morning to catch everyone up to speed. Reeve's arrival is slowly/quickly approaching, and I am getting more and more anxious as the clock ticks on. Tomorrow, I will be officially "full term," so for the past few days, I've considered it safe to try to coax him out. We've had some serious mother/son discussions, and I'm hoping we're on the same page. He is fully aware that Mom is not too keen on the idea of going past forty weeks. But, of course, he also knows that if he must stay in there longer than anticipated, Mom will politely deal with it. He's been making deals with his daddy, too, so the boy is probably confused. Maybe it will come down to who can offer the best bribe.
I've realized what women mean when they are nearing the homestretch and can't wait to have the baby out. I'm not tired of being pregnant by any means. A lot of women just get sick of dealing with pregnancy, and though in the beginning, I could have arguably grown sick of it, I've been blessed with a healthy pregnancy, so I've been able to enjoy each day of Reeve's little process. I am certainly growing more and more uncomfortable, but that's pretty common, apparently, so I'm not going to start complaining.
I haven't had any contractions yet, and after much research and several inquiries, I think I will be able to identify a contraction when it happens. I've definitely had Braxton Hicks contractions like crazy for the past couple months at least. They are growing stronger and lasting longer, which the doctor said is a good indication that my body is doing it's thing to prepare for the real shabang.
Last night after my shower, I looked in the mirror and couldn't hold in the words, "oh my gosh, this looks fake." My stomach no longer looks real. It is so huge, it's almost humorous. Ok, it is pretty humorous. Lots of things about my body are humorous right now, but I won't go into detail, so as to protect the children.
Derick has been so good with his words. When I told him that my belly is huge, he argued, "No it isn't...ok, compared to the rest of your body, it is huge...but it's not huge." I'm blessed with a husband I will never, ever deserve. The bigger and stranger I get, the less fight he puts up when I ask him to rub my back or feet. Some women have husbands who have no problem giving massages. Not I. Derick never wants me to rub his back. Ever. So, I guess he's always thought I don't really need it either. He doesn't understand what years of tumbling and lifting people and being lifted and thrown around can do to someone. He's just never loved giving me back rubs, and he usually does a sub-par job at it....Until lately. He's done a really great job of pampering me, and I'm so thankful. I guess my humorous belly is no longer unnoticeable and he can finally see how a semi-sudden addition of 16 pounds can take a toll on the rest of my body.
Yes, so far, I've gained 16 of the allotted 25 pounds. (I'm counting from my original "healthy" weight because remember that I lost over ten pounds in the beginning when I was only licking ice cubes.) You wouldn't believe it if you saw me, though, and most of it has been gained in the past month. You would probably think I've put on around 100 pounds, no lie. I seriously fit in just a couple of outfits now. At the rate I've been gaining, though, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if I gain it all plus some at the very end. I just can't quit eating, and it's so easy to allow myself to eat--even horribly-- because "Reeve wants it." I woke up at 4:30 a.m. yesterday and scarfed down a gigantic piece of red velvet cake and two glasses of Sprite. Last week, I ate five large biscuits covered in gravy and a piece of bacon. At once. These are just tiny snippets of the enormous amounts of food I eat every day. I don't drink nearly enough water, and I've let myself go quite a bit with the soda thing. For those of you who intend to have a baby some day: be prepared to lose all the self control you ever had. Derick would argue and say that I don't eat poorly. I do eat a lot of fruit and veggies, and I've even done *better* to add in meat here and there, but when it comes to sweets, watch out. I'm out of control.
I've decided that when Reeve is finally here, I'm going to take a semi-hiatus from Facebook. I will still upload pictures (and I know when I get comments on those, I will just HAVE to read them). I just intend to stop my thoughtless phone usage. It's become so easy to just mindlessly browse Facebook statuses while I'm sitting around, walking the dog, riding in the car, even eating at a restaurant. And lately, I've felt a little guilty about that. How much time and energy am I putting into stupid Facebook? Too much. It can easily become a distraction, and I never want to be the type of parent that just sits around on the phone all the time. Reeve deserves more from me, and so does Derick. Actually, society and God deserve more of my time. I'd love/hate to actually see a documentation of the time I spend with my phone in my hand looking at Facebook. Smart phones are great, don't get me wrong. It's so nice to just type in a search for something and have answers right there. And, I mean, we pay for the data plan, we better get some use out of it. But there is a huge difference, to me, between the occasional Facebook fun during down time and constantly having phone-in-hand. It's a sad truth that I've seen parents scream at their kids because the kids were interrupting the parents' phone time. I can't bash them too much because I'm ashamedly guilty of spending way too much time doing nothing on my phone. I just don't want to be like that. I don't want Reeve to associate me with a phone. That sounds weird, but I bet it happens. So, I'm making an effort now to use my phone less and to interact with people and God more. I hope I succeed at that. I'll still be on Facebook, of course. I'm just going to try to put an end to the habitual browsing. It's not really productive whatsoever.
Anyway, maybe by the next time I blog, I will have a sweet little boy beside me telling me what to type. Maybe not. Maybe he'll take his precious time. And that's fine. I've waited all my life for him; what's a few more weeks?
Monday, August 27, 2012
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Obama's Biggest Fan
Good eve! Derick is at church choir practice, so I have a little bit of time to blog while I wait on the towels to dry. Here's a tiny run-down of my day. Not in this order, today:
I pinned about a zillion chocolate dessert recipes on Pinterest, then I ate some ice cream with chocolate sauce, after which I remembered the sugar-free chocolate pudding in the pantry. Should've done the pudding.
I ran around with Mom and Dad. We had a good time. It's always funny to hang out with Dad. I've threatened to make him a shirt that says "Obama's Biggest Fan" on it as much as he talks about Obama. He doesn't like that idea much.
We went to Lowes to look for some parts so that Dad could rig up a diaper sprayer for Reeve's diapers. Dad thought that was a ridiculous idea, of course, and told me the best way to rinse them is to "stick the thing down in the toilet and swish it around a little bit." I think the sprayer is cooler, and after he rigged it up, he thought so, too. Anyway, we ended up getting the supplies at Home Depot, but on our way from Lowes (is it Lowes or Lowe's? I'm too lazy to Google it) this old geezer in a fancy sedan nearly plowed us in the Ped Xing area. I almost went crazy pregnant woman on him, which would be a first because I'm actually a calm pregnant woman. The dude just kept driving while I waddled across, so I just gave him my best Arkansas face and waddled on. Mom had a good laugh about the way Dad and I reacted to the old fart. But come on, old man, get with the program.
I took my ring for it's bi-annual inspection and cleaning, and now it's so shimmery.
Mom and Dad dug up a fern from the back yard and replanted it in the flowerbed out front.
Dad assured me that the strange berries growing in the woods behind our house are muscadines, so I ate them.
Had Firehouse Subs for lunch. Yum. I had the Italian with no onions or mayo and a Coke Zero with Lime. I've yet to figure out what the difference is between Coke Zero and Diet Coke. Both are poisonous, I know, but Reeve likes the taste of Coke Zero, and the child gets what he wants. Even poison.
Tomorrow, I'm meeting a Lejeune wife in the parking lot at Navy Fed for a deal. Sketchy sketchy, I know. She's got 10 onesies for $5. I'm excited about the deal. I really have to be careful on that site because there are a lot of good deals. Luckily, I have a hard time justifying driving across Jax to buy a $2 tshirt. Some girls are all for it, though. I joke with Chase that we may have a difficult time selling our formal gowns, but half a bottle of Suave shampoo will sell like a hot cake. And if you have any Scentsy product--even if it's a mostly-used bar of Twilight (have you smelled Twilight? NOT what I imagine Edward Cullen to smell like)--you can make some serious cash. Another popular item on the Lejeune Ladies Selling site is lingerie. Really? I'm sorry, I'm not going to wear a stranger's pannies. What's that you say? NWT? Don't care. Pre-owned pannies, not for me.
Speaking of crazy stuff, I'm getting a little worn out with people using "of" in the place of "have." I have to be careful here because yes I studied English, and no I don't always use it properly (and I know that pannies actually has a 't' in it, but isn't it more fun to pronounce it my way?) But for real, people, this is NOT correct and I have no clue how you graduated high school if you think it is:
"I really should of gone to the store today."
If you are too lazy to spell out 'have,' then just add 've. "Of" does not go after could, would, should, must, or any other word like that. So, please world, stop doing it that way. And if you're just being stylistic and it's the new "LOL," please realize it's not cool. I thought this was just a Bay, Arkansas thing because I've noticed a lot of BHS alumni doing it (and how you passed Mrs. Brown's class with that type of grammar is beyond me). However, I am seeing it all over FB--even on my Lejuene Ladies site. So, like the old Lowes geezer, y'all need to get with the program. Oh, and just so I don't look like a complete donkey here, I just Googled Lowes.
It's Lowe's.
I pinned about a zillion chocolate dessert recipes on Pinterest, then I ate some ice cream with chocolate sauce, after which I remembered the sugar-free chocolate pudding in the pantry. Should've done the pudding.
I ran around with Mom and Dad. We had a good time. It's always funny to hang out with Dad. I've threatened to make him a shirt that says "Obama's Biggest Fan" on it as much as he talks about Obama. He doesn't like that idea much.
We went to Lowes to look for some parts so that Dad could rig up a diaper sprayer for Reeve's diapers. Dad thought that was a ridiculous idea, of course, and told me the best way to rinse them is to "stick the thing down in the toilet and swish it around a little bit." I think the sprayer is cooler, and after he rigged it up, he thought so, too. Anyway, we ended up getting the supplies at Home Depot, but on our way from Lowes (is it Lowes or Lowe's? I'm too lazy to Google it) this old geezer in a fancy sedan nearly plowed us in the Ped Xing area. I almost went crazy pregnant woman on him, which would be a first because I'm actually a calm pregnant woman. The dude just kept driving while I waddled across, so I just gave him my best Arkansas face and waddled on. Mom had a good laugh about the way Dad and I reacted to the old fart. But come on, old man, get with the program.
I took my ring for it's bi-annual inspection and cleaning, and now it's so shimmery.
Mom and Dad dug up a fern from the back yard and replanted it in the flowerbed out front.
Dad assured me that the strange berries growing in the woods behind our house are muscadines, so I ate them.
Had Firehouse Subs for lunch. Yum. I had the Italian with no onions or mayo and a Coke Zero with Lime. I've yet to figure out what the difference is between Coke Zero and Diet Coke. Both are poisonous, I know, but Reeve likes the taste of Coke Zero, and the child gets what he wants. Even poison.
Tomorrow, I'm meeting a Lejeune wife in the parking lot at Navy Fed for a deal. Sketchy sketchy, I know. She's got 10 onesies for $5. I'm excited about the deal. I really have to be careful on that site because there are a lot of good deals. Luckily, I have a hard time justifying driving across Jax to buy a $2 tshirt. Some girls are all for it, though. I joke with Chase that we may have a difficult time selling our formal gowns, but half a bottle of Suave shampoo will sell like a hot cake. And if you have any Scentsy product--even if it's a mostly-used bar of Twilight (have you smelled Twilight? NOT what I imagine Edward Cullen to smell like)--you can make some serious cash. Another popular item on the Lejeune Ladies Selling site is lingerie. Really? I'm sorry, I'm not going to wear a stranger's pannies. What's that you say? NWT? Don't care. Pre-owned pannies, not for me.
Speaking of crazy stuff, I'm getting a little worn out with people using "of" in the place of "have." I have to be careful here because yes I studied English, and no I don't always use it properly (and I know that pannies actually has a 't' in it, but isn't it more fun to pronounce it my way?) But for real, people, this is NOT correct and I have no clue how you graduated high school if you think it is:
"I really should of gone to the store today."
If you are too lazy to spell out 'have,' then just add 've. "Of" does not go after could, would, should, must, or any other word like that. So, please world, stop doing it that way. And if you're just being stylistic and it's the new "LOL," please realize it's not cool. I thought this was just a Bay, Arkansas thing because I've noticed a lot of BHS alumni doing it (and how you passed Mrs. Brown's class with that type of grammar is beyond me). However, I am seeing it all over FB--even on my Lejuene Ladies site. So, like the old Lowes geezer, y'all need to get with the program. Oh, and just so I don't look like a complete donkey here, I just Googled Lowes.
It's Lowe's.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
not holding my breath
Good morning! It's been a really slow morning around here. I basically just now got out of bed, and there's no excuse for that. It's rainy and dreary here, but that normally doesn't make me want to stay in bed all day like most people. Ok, maybe it does. And maybe I just want to stay in bed all day, regardless, but still. Derick left a little early for a meeting this morning, and as soon as he walked out the door, Parisann started whining and making a scene. She jumped out of bed, and I put her back in, which only made her whine louder. So we got up, and I scarfed down a granola bar and took a swig of the caffeine free Diet Coke my dad conveniently left here last night. I grabbed a treat in one hand and Paris in the other and marched back to bed at 7a.m. I gave Paris her "breakfast in bed," and she continued to whine a little, so I rubbed her belly. She finally chilled the heck out around 7:30, curled up in a ball on Derick's pillow and went to sleep. I've been awake ever since.
I think her problem was that she saw her favorite people in the whole world yesterday, Momo and Popo, and she woke up with a faint memory of them and the chicken they brought for her and it made her really anxious. They are staying in their camper at Cherry Point, which is about an hour from here. It's so nice to have them close, and Paris is in Heaven when they are here. She gets all sorts of goodies and extra long walks.
I leashed her up after her real breakfast a little earlier, and we walked outside. My dog, who's as prissy as they come and normally hates the rain, trotted out into the downpour like it was nothing. I think she was on a mission to find her grandparents...or maybe she was just hunting the deer and the "gifts" they leave her all over our yard. It was almost an issue to get her back inside, but she finally obeyed and is now perched on the couch, peeping out the window.
Today, I am apparently 34 weeks and 1 day along in my pregnancy. There was a little confusion a couple of weeks ago when we got our 3D ultrasound, and the technician implied that I was a little ahead of schedule, but after talking to a different nurse, they don't change due dates, regardless of measurements. Makes sense because they would be changing due dates left and right since babies grow at different rates.
I'm feeling pretty good overall. It's definitely getting a little cramped in there, and my body is feeling the added weight and change. I can't complain at all though. The last half of the pregnancy (so far) has been very enjoyable and uncomplicated. I walk every day, and I don't have a ton of pain, although the past few days, I've been feeling some strange, new things going on. I'm guessing that's just part of the cycle, and I'm trying not to rush to the hospital for false alarms. Last week, I walked nearly three miles at once with my friends, and the Saturday before that, Derick, Paris and I walked on a nature trail near our house. It was a long walk, and Derick likes to undercut me and say it wasn't as long as I imagine. However, if I compared that walk to my near three-miler, I'd say the nature walk was at least three, if not more. Kiss it, Derick. I'm right.
Miraculously, my house is clean other than the unmade bed and a few dishes in the sink. Maybe that's why I felt it was ok to just lay in bed until 9:15 reading the drama on all the Camp Lejeune Yard Sale sites. The tasks never really end, though, because I need to run to the commissary and buy groceries. Although the commissary is now less than a five-minute drive, it's still a chore to get ready, drive there, fight the crowd of crazy Marines and their families, stand in line, tip the bagger and decline his/her offer to wheel out my groceries despite that I'm 8 months pregnant because I'm a total B.A. and don't need no help, yo, put the groceries in the car and kick myself for not accepting the bagger's offer, drive home, bring the groceries inside, and put them all away. It's so much easier when Derick is around to help, but if I'm not cleaning today, the least I can do is stock the kitchen.
Speaking of kitchen, my current eating habits are laughable when compared to my habits earlier this year. I remember puking my guts up because I'd licked an ice cube. Those were the days, and I can't help but smile and cringe a little when I recall everything I've eaten at the end of each day. It's not that I'm always hungry, though I do get hungrier faster these days, but I just always feel like eating. We've gone out for ice cream the past four nights, and I'm not going to gripe if Derick decides we should just make it five.
Apparently, Reeve is a big boy and that's probably thanks to my pig-like eating as of late. But I've heard of so many stories about doctors telling parents that they are "going to have a nine pound baby," only for the day to come and they are handed a nice, healthy seven-pounder. I've also heard the exact opposite, so I'm not holding my breath. At the 3D ultrasound, they told us Reeve weighed nearly six pounds. That was three weeks ago. Either way, whether he's seven pounds or seventeen pounds, we are going to love every teeny inch of his sweet self. We already do.
I understand now why pregnant ladies get so irritated toward the end of their pregnancy. I'm not irritated, but I sure am anxious. I keep looking at calendars, hoping to count fewer days and weeks. Now that everything is ready for his arrival, it's getting more difficult to just wait. I'm ready to see his little face and hold his tiny hands. Although I'm sure he gets sick of me saying, "aren't you so ready for him to be here?!" I know Derick is pretty anxious, too. He's been having serious discussions with Reeve about the appropriate time for him to make his debut. If he works it right, Derick could have a lot of vacation time. I met one of Derick's fellow LTs last week, and she told me that all Derick ever talks about is what day he wants the baby to be born so that he can get a significant amount of days off. Sorry, Reeve, your dad already has an agenda.
Well, I've blabbed about absolutely nothing for long enough. I'm going to go finish that Dt. Coke...that was definitely the first time I've used that phrase in my life...and then I'm going to lay on the couch for a few minutes before gathering all my energy for the commissary. Enjoy the rain! Or sun! Either way!:)
I think her problem was that she saw her favorite people in the whole world yesterday, Momo and Popo, and she woke up with a faint memory of them and the chicken they brought for her and it made her really anxious. They are staying in their camper at Cherry Point, which is about an hour from here. It's so nice to have them close, and Paris is in Heaven when they are here. She gets all sorts of goodies and extra long walks.
I leashed her up after her real breakfast a little earlier, and we walked outside. My dog, who's as prissy as they come and normally hates the rain, trotted out into the downpour like it was nothing. I think she was on a mission to find her grandparents...or maybe she was just hunting the deer and the "gifts" they leave her all over our yard. It was almost an issue to get her back inside, but she finally obeyed and is now perched on the couch, peeping out the window.
Today, I am apparently 34 weeks and 1 day along in my pregnancy. There was a little confusion a couple of weeks ago when we got our 3D ultrasound, and the technician implied that I was a little ahead of schedule, but after talking to a different nurse, they don't change due dates, regardless of measurements. Makes sense because they would be changing due dates left and right since babies grow at different rates.
I'm feeling pretty good overall. It's definitely getting a little cramped in there, and my body is feeling the added weight and change. I can't complain at all though. The last half of the pregnancy (so far) has been very enjoyable and uncomplicated. I walk every day, and I don't have a ton of pain, although the past few days, I've been feeling some strange, new things going on. I'm guessing that's just part of the cycle, and I'm trying not to rush to the hospital for false alarms. Last week, I walked nearly three miles at once with my friends, and the Saturday before that, Derick, Paris and I walked on a nature trail near our house. It was a long walk, and Derick likes to undercut me and say it wasn't as long as I imagine. However, if I compared that walk to my near three-miler, I'd say the nature walk was at least three, if not more. Kiss it, Derick. I'm right.
Miraculously, my house is clean other than the unmade bed and a few dishes in the sink. Maybe that's why I felt it was ok to just lay in bed until 9:15 reading the drama on all the Camp Lejeune Yard Sale sites. The tasks never really end, though, because I need to run to the commissary and buy groceries. Although the commissary is now less than a five-minute drive, it's still a chore to get ready, drive there, fight the crowd of crazy Marines and their families, stand in line, tip the bagger and decline his/her offer to wheel out my groceries despite that I'm 8 months pregnant because I'm a total B.A. and don't need no help, yo, put the groceries in the car and kick myself for not accepting the bagger's offer, drive home, bring the groceries inside, and put them all away. It's so much easier when Derick is around to help, but if I'm not cleaning today, the least I can do is stock the kitchen.
Speaking of kitchen, my current eating habits are laughable when compared to my habits earlier this year. I remember puking my guts up because I'd licked an ice cube. Those were the days, and I can't help but smile and cringe a little when I recall everything I've eaten at the end of each day. It's not that I'm always hungry, though I do get hungrier faster these days, but I just always feel like eating. We've gone out for ice cream the past four nights, and I'm not going to gripe if Derick decides we should just make it five.
Apparently, Reeve is a big boy and that's probably thanks to my pig-like eating as of late. But I've heard of so many stories about doctors telling parents that they are "going to have a nine pound baby," only for the day to come and they are handed a nice, healthy seven-pounder. I've also heard the exact opposite, so I'm not holding my breath. At the 3D ultrasound, they told us Reeve weighed nearly six pounds. That was three weeks ago. Either way, whether he's seven pounds or seventeen pounds, we are going to love every teeny inch of his sweet self. We already do.
I understand now why pregnant ladies get so irritated toward the end of their pregnancy. I'm not irritated, but I sure am anxious. I keep looking at calendars, hoping to count fewer days and weeks. Now that everything is ready for his arrival, it's getting more difficult to just wait. I'm ready to see his little face and hold his tiny hands. Although I'm sure he gets sick of me saying, "aren't you so ready for him to be here?!" I know Derick is pretty anxious, too. He's been having serious discussions with Reeve about the appropriate time for him to make his debut. If he works it right, Derick could have a lot of vacation time. I met one of Derick's fellow LTs last week, and she told me that all Derick ever talks about is what day he wants the baby to be born so that he can get a significant amount of days off. Sorry, Reeve, your dad already has an agenda.
Well, I've blabbed about absolutely nothing for long enough. I'm going to go finish that Dt. Coke...that was definitely the first time I've used that phrase in my life...and then I'm going to lay on the couch for a few minutes before gathering all my energy for the commissary. Enjoy the rain! Or sun! Either way!:)
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