Love...Exciting and New

In love with my new car (I know you all know there will be no drinking and driving around here)


In love with my ever increasing bump (size: Large)


In love with my shiny new clean smelling house - especially the shower...who knew the floor was white? (Not really Claudia, but she kinda looks like Rachel Dratch...just replace the dress with some khakis and a t-shirt and plug in a Spanish accent - cute and adorable)

I Gave In - Her Name Is Claudia

I have succumbed to the worst. My husband, mother and sister-in-law all think it's the greatest idea since sliced bread, but somehow it makes me feel chapped in all the wrong places.

I now have a housekeeper.

Claudia is going to come twice a week while I am pregnant and maybe once a week when I spit out the kid. I feel like I've really compromised my principles. Is that weird? I mean, I should really be able to take care of my own house. I know I can, but it is just such a huge effort hauling the vacuum cleaner up and down the stairs and I'm having trouble reaching the backs of counters with this belly. The shower hasn't been cleaned in weeks. Am I lazy? Am I indulgent (feels that way).

How can I learn to just sit back and enjoy a clean house for 75 bucks every two weeks?

Maybe I will change my mind when I see/smell my sparkly house tonight.

It's My First Time

We are going to pick up my BRAND NEW CAR! It's the first time I have purchased a car that doesn't need a sage burning session to rid the vehicle of other people's Carma. Very excited...so much so that I have little heartburn. Will post the Price is Right Showcase showoff pictures shortly.

RUDE

Yeah. So I just experienced my first Insensitive Cow. In Publix. At the bakery. Let me start my rant by pointing out that she looked like she was fresh from the trailer, complete with bad hair under her hairnet under her bakery hat and summer teeth (some 'er here, some 'er there). And none too skinny herself there, sister.

Insensitive Cow: " Ohhhh, a baby! How many months are you?"
Me (smiling): "Just finished my 6th month."
I.C. (eyebrows raised to her very low hairline - or was it the hairnet?): "Is that all?!"
Me (giving her the hairy eyeball with no smile whatsoever): "Yes."

"Pregnant" pause...

I.C.: "Oh, well, I guess it's just a while since I've been pregnant...it was a while ago. I guess you just forget."
Me (hairy eyeball stare continues while imagining her as a fifteen-year-old slag pregnant by her second cousin).

More pregnant pausing...

I.C.: "Uhh, that guy will be right with you."

Her hasty exit.

Are people really that rude? Or are they just stupid? Or does crap just fall out of their mouth without thinking? Do they spend their lives living an uncomfortable existence, or do they get numb to their own atrociousness and just continue down their happy path spreading poo in their wake?

Or maybe I'm just being too sensitive?

Mufflings, Mohonk and Meat on the Bones

Before we actually got to Mohonk, the 'Rents visited the apartment in Brooklyn. I nearly threw up from laughing so hard at my dad slowly sinking into the inflatable (or should I say deflatable) bed. It may have been better as an "on location" moment, but here is the sequence of events nonetheless.

This was the best weather we could have hoped for. Mohonk was delicious, in every sense of the word. The air, the views, the food...everything. A few highlights from one of our hikes.

Quick pic of the growing belly. Babens is really getting down at the disco about 9:15 every night. It's freakish and creepy to see my stomach moving independently of any conscious muscle movement. Kinda Sigourney Weaver Alienish. It may take a second to load, but for those of you (Kat) who want to see it grossly enlarged, you can click on the picture. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Droopy boobs, 70s paisley and all, I have to share...I LOVE this dress. I have one in blue too. It's from Tar-jhay.

It's official. I've gained 25 pounds. And I still have three months to go. I'm gonna be enormous! Whoo-ah!

On A Brighter Note, At Least I Have Boobs Now

That's me...back when I was skinny and in shape.

"What?!" says current Lollie, "I'm in shape! Round's a shape."

I'm just having a moment.

I know it's for the greater good, but I'm just feeling sorry for my ass, literally.

It's HUGE.

Sorry, ass. We used to be friends.

WhiskeyMarie, CatLady, Lollie, BabyMama

Just like WM didn't want to become the CatLady (but kinda did in her last post - sorry Whiskey), I never wanted to be the baby crazed lunatic that I've become. So yes, poor readers, this is another one that could be tagged as Baby Crap.

Ray and I went to our first Bradley childbirthing class last Friday and Holy Grateful Dead, is Janet (not her real name...okay, yes it is) is a huge Flower Child. Just what we were not hoping for. She lives in a very cute, sometimes affluent, neighbourhood near Palm Beach...but her house is the one on the entire block that has a neglected yard, clapboardish house (needs a lick of paint and the carport is leaning a bit), and windchimes galore. She opened the door and what was she wearing? Say it with me now. 1, 2, 3...TIE-DYE! Ray and I introduced ourselves and simultaneously gave each other the stink eye as we passed over her threshold.

We were offered natural iced tea and hot air popped popcorn (could you have guessed that there wouldn't be a microwave within 40 feet of the house?). I had to go to the can, as usual, and low and behold the credo of the casa is "If it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown flush it down." Me? I don't care what colour it is, it's going away. Sorry Mother Earth.

So the class was supposed to be two hours, ending at 9:30, and probably would have if we didn't get the entire low-down on Janet's life and births ("Oh and guys, here's the really neat thing. My husband filmed our last child's home birth, so we'll be watching that during class five or so. Isn't that great?" You should've seen Ray's face as he nodded almost imperceptably.). And we also learned about her math skills. The woman can not, for the life of her, figure out how many years are between 1967 and 2008, for example. Every time a year span would come into question, Ray would spit out the answer with increasing rapidity so we could get on with it.

It was everything we could do not to laugh out-loud when every hour, on the hour, Janet's Austrian-original wall clock broke out into a succession of cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoos! Ray squeezed my leg so hard I still have tiny fingerprint bruises. I think he bit the inside of his lip.

So after getting the Bradley introduction, reading materials and course overview, we started at 9:20 with the Bradley exercises with the promise of moving on quickly to the guided meditation and relaxation techniques. Janet told me to close my eyes while she turned down the lights, put on her sleepy voice and a Yanni meets Seaside 8-track (not really, it was a CD), and led me through a side-lying guided meditation while Ray and the 19-year-old nursing student (did I mention that she was there observing for a paper she has to write for college? Oh, and that her name was Nicky and Janet kept interspersing Jackie every other time she referred to her?), sat on the floor next to me for 20 minutes feeling really uncomfortable. At least Ray expressed that she just had to be feeling the same way he was, "I mean, how could you not?"

We ended the session with really big, heart-felt hug and promises that next week wouldn't run so long but she really appreciated the extra time. We'll see if she keeps to it tonight. We go in an hour.