Stay Classy

Introducing...

Zachary Robert

Born 05/05/10 (Cinco de Mayo!)

6lbs, 7oz

20 inches long

Full birth story coming soon. I am head over heels in love with this boy!!
 

More last day nostalgia, gratuitous cuteness, and holy cow that's a lot of pregnant...

The very end of my very last day on the desk...

Some random bath time fun to counteract the bittersweet...

And wow. At 39+ weeks pregnant, I officially look as tired as I feel.

And that, friends, is about as coherent as I can muster at the moment. Happy weekend!
 

You win again, universe.

I really wish I had something profound to say about the final days of my pregnancy.

All my creative energies, however, seemed to be crammed in my swollen sinuses. I must have said one too many times how I wasn't too terribly uncomfortable, because the universe decided to fix that by slamming me with a really fun cold. My sick days are spoken for, and I can't even really take anything.

So here I am, drowning in snot. (Sorry-- that was gross. So sue me.)

Uggggg.

I'll be more upbeat tomorrow, swear. I still know that I could be a TON more uncomfortable a week before my due date, and I'm still beyond grateful for the healthy little boy kicking me in the ribs. I just wish I could breathe, ya know?

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts... 

Clearing out...

So you know how your pens just mysteriously disappear from your desk drawers at work?

I found them. 

Sorry. Apparently, I've been harboring them all in my top drawer at work under a ton of papers for the last 5 years or so. In my defense, I'm fairly sure a decent number of them were there before I started.

I spent yesterday evening before the 10 o'clock news cleaning out my desk at work. It suddenly hit me that any day now I just might leave for the night, go into labor, and never come back-- and if that were indeed the case, the last thing I'd want to do would be to have to go back to clean. So, even though I'm fully planning to work for another week or so, I set out to sort through 5 years worth of desk junk.

It ended up being more of a trip down memory lane than I'd anticipated. There were thank you notes and newspaper clippings and scripts. There was the photo and sweet note from the holocaust survivor I interviewed several years ago. There were plaques from events I've emceed. There were tapes of some of my favorite stories. There was a whole bunch of stuff left over from the MDA telethons I've worked on, including the infamously awkward picture of me with Jerry Lewis. There were old birthday signs from co-workers and letters from viewers.

This moving on stuff is bittersweet. It's been a challenging, wonderful, infuriating, and occasionally surreal journey here. Hopefully, I've done some things that I can be proud of. Hopefully, I'll be left with some stories that I can tell my kids when they refuse to believe that their boring old mom was ever a tv news anchor. What I do know is that I am different than when I started here over 6 years ago, bright eyed and bushy tailed, just shy of my 23rd birthday. I've met people who have changed the way I look at the world, both for the better and worse. I have vastly different ideas about what's important, what's worth worrying about, and where my boundaries are.  

I know, without a doubt, that I am ready for the next adventure.

And I have the 248 pens to prove it.
 

If I could bottle it, I'd be a millionaire

I know I'm hardly the first person to make this observation, but holy cow... toddlers are little Energizer Bunnies. Put 2 or 3 of them in a room together, and they could probably power a small city.

This phenomenon was in full effect at my Baby Sprinkle last weekend. Brady, Julie's daughter Bella, and Jill's daughter McKenzie were shy with each other for about 30 seconds... and then didn't stop running for the rest of the afternoon. Seriously-- they were hard to photograph.

They ran hundreds of circles of around our coffee table, chanting "buh buh dee! buh buh dee!". We have no idea what that means, but it is apparently hilarious.

After McKenzie had to go, Brady made it his task to empty all the tissue out of all the gifts.

Then Bella set about helping him tear it all into little tiny pieces, which provided another half hour or so of entertainment...

...before they decided to jump into it and roll around like a pile of fall leaves.

I absolutely love watching Brady and his friends together, especially now that they're starting to actually play together more and more.

And the only thing cooler than all that toddler energy? It's how completely unashamed they are of how much they love their friends.

  

Slowing down...

And here we are. 3 weeks to go until d-day, and it feels like my whole body is starting to come to a screeching halt. Stuff hurts. I waddle. And I'm sleeeeepy.

I know, I know-- it's all to be expected. And I swear, I'm not complaining (much!). I'm healthy, the baby is healthy, and everything is progressing exactly like it's supposed to. I know I've said it a million times, but just in case there was any question... I do absolutely know how incredibly lucky/blessed/fortunate/sprinkled with fairy dust I am, and I am grateful.

To take my mind of the achiness, I've been trying to focus on the positive parts of the very end of pregnancy. There's the way that strangers (especially elderly people) smile at me like I'm adorable, and not at all looking like a giant waddling whale. There's the license to wear whatever shoes are comfortable, completely disregarding what would otherwise be appropriate for the situation-- because who is really going to fault a hugely pregnant woman for wearing flip-flops to work? There's feeling this little boy wiggling inside me, and not having to share him with anyone-- for now, he is all mine. And there's that Christmas-morning caliber anticipation, knowing that I'm going to get to meet my boy within the month.

That's what I'm trying to focus on, at least. Sometimes I'm just too busy with my swollen ankles and aching hips. I'm only human, right?   

Sprinkled

Have you ever heard of a baby sprinkle?

I hadn't... which is why, when my friend Barb asked a few months ago if she could throw me one, I was a little confused.

A baby sprinkle, it turns out, is essentially a scaled-down version of a baby shower that's more appropriate for second babies. The point is to celebrate the new baby, but just with a "sprinkling" of gifts-- mostly the consumables, like diapers, wipes, lotion, etc. Cute idea, right? And of course, I was beyond grateful that someone would want to do that for me.

So yesterday a few close friends got together for brunch and a "sprinkle". It was 8 of my favorite ladies, 3 crazy toddlers, and one very cute new baby (no, not mine!). There was laughing and chatting and french toast. It was perfect.

Even Brady was sprinkled with some new "big brother" toys (mostly things having to do with cars/trucks/trains/planes-- I think my friends have been paying attention). I have many more pictures to share (still need to upload them all) that prove that he may have had a better time than anyone, but suffice to say the first thing he did this morning was get out his new trucks. 

 (Vintage-y look courtesy of the Hipstamatic ap for the iPhone.)

I promise to post the rest of the pictures soon, but for now I'll just say that I am feeling pretty good about things after yesterday. At some point over the last 6 years in Nebraska, I made some really great friends. More than the diapers or wipes or toys, that's what I got out of my "sprinkle".

So thanks, Barb. (And ha! I took a picture of you! And posted it on my blog, even! No good deed goes unpunished, right?)

When Nesting, Spring Cleaning, and OCD Collide...

As I put it on Facebook this weekend, "Somewhere in the intersection of spring cleaning, nesting, and OCD, you will find ME. Be afraid."

Actually, that's where Paul and I have been for 3 straight weekends now. Cleaning. Purging. Making lists. Checking things off of lists. Lather, rinse, repeat.

It started with the garage, which needed to be cleaned out so that we would have somewhere to put stuff we cleared out of the storage units, which needed to be cleaned out so that we could move furniture out of the old office that's going to be the new baby's room. So we started with the garage. Then the basement storage units. Then the old office. Then we donated a lot of stuff to the Mission.

That was weekend one... and then the obsessive compulsive took over, and we haven't stopped. I cleaned out my closet, and more stuff went to the Mission. I cleaned out Brady's closet. I cleaned out the refrigerator and the freezer and the pantry. Paul installed lights on the deck, and cleared all the dead winter stuff out of the yard, and drained and cleaned the hot tub, and made trips to Home Depot, and touched up the paint on our walls. We cleaned the guest room to make it all sparkly for the inevitable string of post-baby house guests. The baby's room is ready and waiting for him-- crib set up, curtains hung, dozens of teeny tiny outfits folded in his drawers. 

I think the nesting/holy-crap-we're-going-to-have-a-baby-really-soon hormones must be taking over, because I am completely addicted. I get a weird high from opening my clean, organized, uncluttered closets. It makes me feel like I'm somehow more in control of my life, at a time when I know I'm actually not in control of much. I don't want hidden clutter, either in my house or in my head. Simplify. Streamline. Focus.

Of course, I am having to do quite a bit of stopping to sit during this process. There are breaks to walk to the park and read stories and sing songs and eat lunch. But the clock is ticking-- less than 6 weeks to go!-- and so we soldier on.

I suppose we'll stop when we collapse. Or have a baby. You know-- whichever comes first.

This could be bad

Houston? We may have a problem.

Something happened for the second time today. It happened once before, about 6 months ago, and I wrote it off as a fluke. But then it happened again.

Brady was introduced to a newborn... and had a screaming, crying, hysterical meltdown.

Given that he's due to get a little brother in 6 weeks, who I can only assume is going to be a newborn... this could present a problem.

This morning started off well. All the way over to our friends Aly and Shawn's house to meet their 2-week-old little girl Owynn, Brady was excited about the baby. He talked about "saying 'hi' to Baby Owynn", and "being gentle with Baby Owynn", and giving the baby her present. Once we got there, he got out of the car and marched up to their front door, and even carried the gift bag.

Then he stepped in the front door, saw the baby, and became a puddle of hysterical.

It only took me a few minutes to calm him down and stop the screaming, but he spent literally the next 40 minutes straddling me while I sat on the couch with his head buried in my chest, refusing to look at anyone. He wouldn't tell me what was wrong, didn't want to look at a book, wouldn't do anything but hide. So I apologized over and over, and tried to chat with Aly and Shawn over the giant sweaty toddler growth plastered to my giant sweaty pregnant belly (pretty image, right?).

Of course, everything was magically repaired when Aly went and got their dog, and let Brady give her some treats. That's when my tiny schizophrenic got off the couch and chased the dog around, giggling all the while. He even went and hung out in the kitchen with Shawn while I stayed in the living room with Aly and finally got to hold beautiful little Oywnn.

It would be easier to write this incident off if we hadn't had almost the exact same experience when we went over to Bridgett and Eric's to meet then-newborn baby Jude.

I don't know how to interpret it. Is he scared of the tiny, squirming human? Does he have a problem with not being the smallest person in the room? Did he somehow think I was going to leave him with people he didn't know (which, by the way, has never even happened)?

We talk about the fact that he's going to have a baby brother, but I don't think he gets it. He talks about the "baby in Mommy's tummy", and how the "baby be born in hostipal", and that "Grandma Carol and Grandpa Bill come and stay!" when the baby is born. But after today, I really think he has no idea what is about to happen.

And now I'm officially nervous. 

30 Weeks

Second child syndrome starts early, it would seem. I am 30 weeks pregnant today-- 3/4 of the way done with my pregnancy-- and I just realized that I literally have not taken a single "pregnant" picture this time around. I suppose taking pictures of myself these days just isn't that appealing a concept. :)

So here it is...

Sorry, Baby D2! I promise there will be many, many more pictures once you actually join us!