No baby this week

That was what my doctor said this morning. No baby this week, but he thinks it will be in two or three weeks (I really have four weeks to go, to my 'official' due date. But, as he said, when you're dealing with nature, it's all just a guessing game. I am dilated two centimeters, but not effaced in the least, so something is happening, but not a whole lot. And that's fine - baby needs to stay in as long as he needs to stay in, I'm cool with that. For now. Ask me again next week. I have already had two sniveling fits about being big and miserable and ready to have this baby, and there's four weeks to go. That's all for now. Happy New Year to all. Hopefully midnight will find me asleep, that's my wish for the new year. Blessed, peaceful sleep. Best to all!

Not fair!

I am sick. Hacking, congested cough, snotty nose, sore throat. I would like it duly noted for the record - someone in the great scheme of things, please jot this down: it is not fair to be nine months pregnant and sick. Your energy is already sapped. Precious sleep is already at a minimum. You can't take any medicine, at least not anything that really works. When you cough or sneeze, the danger of peeing on yourself is very great. Add to the cough/cold combination another unpleasant condition that starts with a 'C' (I am, as a dear friend puts it, 'all stoved up', if you catch my drift), and I am miserable. But that's OK, it will get better. Because it has to get better. Right? Right? Anybody? It's gonna get better, right?

I have an appointment with my OB on Monday morning, so I will survive until then. And then if I'm still feeling icky he can (hopefully) give me something or suggest something that will help me. And then I can find out if I'm dilated or anything so I can reassure those around me that the baby is not going to explode out of me at any random moment just around the corner. I am trying to be a good sport about it, but comments from random strangers about my size or impending labor are getting irritating. And when people (some people, not all) find out that I have less than a month to go, they freak out a little bit - the other day at work a couple I was helping actually backed up from me slightly, as though they were going to get sprayed with something. Like amniotic fluid was going to shoot out of my nose. And then there was the older gentleman who I was assisting the day after Christmas, who told me that I must be having quadruplets, because I was just so big. Har-har, sir. I have a baby inside me that makes my belly large; what is your excuse?

Christmas went well. We weren't sure Jacelyn was going to be up to midnight Mass, with her being sick, but she napped from about 2:00 until almost 8:00 and woke up refreshed and ready to go. I was grumpy and disgruntled, but then I am grumpy and disgruntled a lot of the time lately, so it was nothing new. Brian and Jacelyn left around 11:30 to get seats, and I stayed behind for another ten minutes or so to make sure everything was ready for Santa to come while we were gone. She behaved very well through Mass, and afterwards we went to Brian's parent's house for presents. And after that we went to our house for presents, so we were up until almost 5am. It makes me tired just typing it!

My sister woke me up the next morning around 11am, and I hurriedly got up and started getting the ham in the oven. Brian was in the kitchen at the same time, and I got very territorial - I wanted him out of my kitchen. I even said a couple of time - "YOU ARE IN MY WAY". He was trying to finish up some pies he had started making the night before, so he was just sitting around spreading cool whip, but he was in my way just the same. He at one time said something about prepping the chicken and turkey at our house before heading to his mother's house to cook them (he was frying them, because this is the south and we love to fry stuff), but I nixed that idea very quickly. I had to baste the ham, make cornbread, make macaroni and cheese, make tea, clean the kitchen and front bathroom...I could go on and on. And did go on and on.

But despite having everyone over at our house, despite a sick child and a sore back, it was a good Christmas. My Christmas spirit has flown the coop, however. There are still things to be done around the house before Little Guy gets here, and the Christmas tree is holding me back. As much as I would like to keep it displayed for the proper amount of time, I am ashamed to admit that I want it gone. I want the snowmen candles gone. I want the lights in the dining room window gone. I want it all gone, and everything in its' proper place. I have a hormone-fueled desire to be ready, darnit. And if you don't listen to those hormones...well, just look out.

School does not resume until January 7th, but there is a part of me that realizes this time is the last time I will have before the baby is born to not be dealing with the school routine (up early, driving all over creation, etc). And I still have to work - a good catholic education does not pay for itself, alas. I want to get things done while the getting is good. And if that means cutting the Christmas season a bit short, in the decorative sense....well, so be it. There's always next year.

I still need to pack my hospital bag. I still don't know what exactly to pack for Little Guy. I don't know where to keep my hospital bag once I have packed it - in my car? At the house? I am mulling over when I should install Little Guy's car seat. And should it go in my car? Will we be taking my car to the hospital, or Brian's? I am a confused mess. But I'm getting by.

Merry Christmas to all, and I wish you a Happy New Year, as well.

Too much thinking

I realized today, as I was waddling up to the convenience store to get a soda, that I am very blessed. I might not feel 100% - my back hurts, things ache, I'm constantly tired, I'm an emotional train wreck, I could go on and on - but I can still get around. I can still take Jacelyn to and from school, get to and from work, actually be somewhat (only somewhat, though) productive while at work, and take care of my house (laundry, dishes, etc.). So I thank God for that, and I thank the good support system I have in my family and friends for making my life easier. So thanks, y'all.

The catch to all of the above? It's hard to remember sometimes. My due date seems to be so far away when I'm dealing with physical discomfort, yet so close when I think about the things that need to be done. One of my goals for the month at work is to not go into labor, and people laugh, but I mean it. I need to get my inventory finished (an enormous task - 10,000 or so books, single sheets and whatnot to count all by hand), I need to leave the department in some sort of decent order so that the poor people that have to take care of it while I'm on leave can actually find things. And that's just at work!

As far as the house goes....yikes. I went so far as to cull the newborn sized items out of the stuff I got at my baby shower and put it in a basket for washing, but have since stalled out. The basket is sitting on my dining room table, glaring accusingly at me every time I walk by it. But in my sick little head, I now need to go through the clothes I saved from when Jacelyn was a baby and get that newborn stuff, so I can wash all of the newborn stuff at the same time. Then I have to find a place to put it, which is going to involve purchasing some sort of bin or basket system to go on one of the shelves of the changing table. BUT - the shelf of the changing table on which I hope to place said newborn sized clothes warped while in storage, and either needs to be magically straightened (which I'm thinking I'll try shoving it under our mattress - if the weight of the two of us can't straighten that out, nothing can) or replaced. Then I need to figure out which of the newborn clothing is coming to the hospital - we have a little outfit for him to wear for his pictures, but will he wear that home, or should I bring something else? Since it's winter do I need to bring pajamas for him to wear in the hospital, or what? Jacelyn was born at the end of April, so she just wore a t-shirt and diaper while we were in the hospital. I don't know! And I need to pack a bag for myself. And I suppose something for Brian, although I don't know - I think I would like him to be with me while in labor, but I would also like him to be home with Jacelyn at night, if I end up having to stay an overnight. I'm thinking too much and its' making my head hurt.

Jacelyn was invited to two birthday parties over the weekend, and there is a girl scout caroling thing Sunday, as well. I don't want to go. To any of it. I want to stay home in my pajamas. We did a birthday party last weekend. Then next week at school we have the School Christmas program. Last year did not go so well (see here), so I'm hoping this year will be better. Then a half day Wednesday, and then she is done with school for two and a half weeks. Yikes! I'm not ready. And of course, I think about next Christmas, when my sister-in-law won't be here, and I'll have to make arrangements for someone to watch Jacelyn and the baby. And then I get all stressed out. And you know what helps with stress? Cookies. So I'm going to go have a cookie and try and forget all this.

Why?

I want to know why I cannot go into nesting mode on, say, a Sunday afternoon. Or a Tuesday morning. Or before midnight, really. Last night, after consuming a bowl of spaghetti, I zoned out on the sofa for an hour or so. I laid there, watching CSI: Miami, hating David Caruso and berating myself for not getting up and doing something. I actually drifted off to sleep for some indeterminable amount of time - I think it was about twenty minutes - when I woke up, absolutely stricken with the urge to finish cleaning the kitchen. It had to happen. I was putting something away in the fridge and thought, gosh, I need to clean out the fridge. While cleaning out the fridge I sat something on the stove and noted that my burner pans could use a good cleaning. After dismantling the stovetop and giving it all a good cleaning, I saw a box of clothes that had not been unpacked, so I switched rooms and started cleaning and sorting and putting away in our bedroom, occasionally going back into the kitchen to swipe at something with antibacterial cleaner, just for good measure. I made myself lay down around 1:30am, but still couldn't fall asleep for another half hour - I laid there, begging for sleep, and could only think of all the things that needed to be done around the house.

My sister-in-law is throwing me a small, family baby shower this weekend, which will be at my house. Ack! Grandparents, Aunts and in-laws, all under my roof at the same time. That's not even mentioning my father and my stepmother. My stepmother is a devoted and loving wife to my father, who means the best and wants the best for us, but the woman acts (at least I think, nay, hope it's an act) stupid around other people for some reason. The last time she was around my in-laws my mother-in-law followed her around making faces at her behind her back and doing that universal 'crazy' sign, where you twirl your fingers around your ears. I hope everyone behaves.

I was talking to my Aunt last night and she asked me what I needed, and I was stumped. What do I need? I literally had not thought about it. I knew I needed a car seat, and had already hit my father up for one, but outside of that, I didn't know. I realized I don't have a lot of those long sleeve, warm pajama sleeper things, I have no baby bath gear - towels, washcloths, CLR (that was for you, Clark), things like that. I have a metric TON of receiving blankets, I have a smattering on onesies in various sizes. I don't have any baby socks. While I was thinking about all this, I started to feel very ill prepared. And then there's the matter of the weather. It's usually still cold around the end of January around here, so I know I need some warm newborn stuff. But how long will he be in newborn clothes? I mean, I had a friend whose son never fit into newborn sizes - he came out needing 3-6 month sized clothes. He'll be fine. I suppose I have reached that point where my hormones have completely taken over, and they are doing a fine job of inciting panic. I need a boppie! And a breast pump! And a diaper bag! And diapers! I feel completely unprepared. I think that is the hormones talking. It will be fine, I will be fine, he will be fine, it will all be fine. On a completely unrelated note, this child gets the hiccups more often than any other fetus in the world, I think. He had them last night for what seemed like HOURS, and he has them again now. Bless his little heart.

I'm going to go drink my one cup of coffee I allow myself. And try to calm down. I'm exhausted, and frantic, and just need to settle down, but not so much that I fall asleep. Because that is generally frowned upon, sleeping at work.

Cha-cha-cha-changes

I do not spend enough time with my daughter. It is that simple. And since we moved, I have been neglecting her and letting her spend waaaaaay too much time in front of the television while I waddle around, getting things done. And once she's in bed, and I am done for the evening, I will zone out in front of the television, as well, since my books are still packed. And I have felt compelled to do things until I am exhausted and in pain - work long days (because we need the money), or unpack and move and shuffle (because Brian is so busy and works such long days) until my belly button hernia is throbbing, or until my back gives out on me, or until I am having painful Braxton-Hicks contractions. No more, I say, no more.

My goal is to establish a routine. I think it will be good for all of us before Little Guy makes his appearance. I don't have a concrete plan in mind - just a few things that are floating around in my head. I know I want to spend more time with her, or at least make better use of the time we have together. I know I want to turn off the television. I want to teach her to help around the house. I want to eat dinner at the table with her, every night. I need to sit down and figure out what I want and how I'm going to implement it. I need to re-read my 'Mother's Rule of Life" and actually use some of the ideas there. I'm calling myself to action. I'll let you know how it goes.

The Loyal Order of Water Buffalos

Brian made his return to the lodge last night (he is a freemason). There was a family night, which I frankly can't stand attending. Tons of people show up and eat, then the menfolk go off to their secret meeting and the other womenfolk quickly disperse and head for home, leaving a very dirty kitchen. In the past I have gotten off work and arrived there just in time to eat the cold plate of leftovers that someone made up for me and then wash dishes and clean for another hour. Last night I had already decided I would not be cleaning up. I only went because Brian took Jacelyn and my mother-in-law, and both needed a ride home.


I got there and ate (attempting to comment quietly to Brian about how terrible the green beans were, only to discover that he made them - oops), smiled at the comments ("Oh, look, she swallowed a watermelon!") and tried to ignore the 'you-da-man' props the other men gave Brian upon discovering that I was pregnant, and with a boy no less. Lots of back patting and hand shaking and winking and whatnot. Silly boys.


One of the other masons has a young daughter, I think she is 18 or 19. At one such family night when Jacelyn was smaller she brought a friend with her, at proceeded to make me feel like crap when she literally pointed at me and said out loud in a normal tone of voice, "She was pregnant when she got married". I mean, so what, and all, but it wasn't the most polite thing to do. Last night I she walked over to me sporting a baby bump that rivaled my own. She is due a couple of weeks after me. She hasn't finished high school, she isn't married, and she broke up with the baby's father and, in her own words, "...kicked him out. That is my mother and father's house, and he's not going to be living there with me with that attitude". Sigh. Poor thing.


I ate, got my mother-in-law and daughter and we were out of there. Brian didn't come home until almost 10:00pm, and announced that the members asked him to be "master" next year. I just sighed. What do I say? I mean, it's his family tradition - the men in his family are masons going back generations and generations. And then there's the Catholic aspect of it, which I am still not 100% clear on (the Catholic church has denounced masonry for literally hundreds of years). And when I tentatively and carefully brought that up one day he waved it off. There are men in his lodge who are also Knights of Columbus. I don't understand the church's position on it entirely, but it nags at me a little.


To be "master" requires a lot of time. He already works ten hour days. You add in the half hour commute each way and that is eleven hours out of the house already, just with work. The lodge has two scheduled meetings per month, plus whatever other degrees, important visitors, visits to other lodges, etc.. I tried to gently remind him that he already works so much, and has a daughter who loves and misses him, and will shortly have a infant son, and that's not to mention his lovely wife, who will be frazzled trying to take care of a kindergartner and an infant, maintain a household, and work part time. He accepted the position, anyway. Sigh. So starting in the end of December he will be installed. I am fairly certain he is only doing this at his father's urging, and I don't know what to do about it.


I tried bringing it up with his mother last night, being very careful about how and what I said, but that didn't do any good. She has a very Wilma Flintstone attitude about the whole thing. My father-in-law is literally gone five or six nights out of the week to some lodge or another, and she complains occasionally, but her thoughts on the subject are as long as he takes her out shopping on the weekend, buys her dinner and gives her money, she's OK with it. I'm not OK with that. He can't buy our daughter off - there is no toy, no matter how fabulous, that will replace his role in her life. He needs to bond with his new son. And I certainly cannot be bought.

We will have to see how it goes. Maybe it won't be as bad as it seems right now. He was master once before, and he was busy, but I think his work schedule will limit some of his activities. I don't want him to burn out, either. We shall see!

Wah-wah-wah Whine

I have waddled, reluctantly and wearily, into the third trimester. It's like someone flipped a switch. Overnight, everything aches and hurts and swells and is uncomfortable and you pee all the time (sometimes even making it to the bathroom) and you know it's the final stretch but it hurts so bad. The sad thing is, it's early yet for me! It's not going to get better; it's only going to get worse. That's OK, it will all be worth it when I hold little guy in my arms for the first time. I'm just tired. It will get better. I hope!

A typical night in the third trimester (at least for me):

11:00pm: Lie down on bed, attempting to sleep on your back. Find yourself unable to breathe and roll to your left side.

1:00am: Wake up with pain in left hip. Get up, pee, then come back to bed and lie down on right side.

3:00am: Wake up with pain in right hip. Ignoring urge to pee, roll back over to left hip only to discover it still hurts. Sniffle pitifully. Try laying on back; discover you still cannot breath. Gingerly find comfortable position on left hip.

3:05am: Angrily get up to go pee, since you forgot to go before you got comfortable.

3:10am: Feeling the stirrings of fetal movement, you return to bed and attempt to get comfortable again. Snarl at husband when he asks if you are OK. Find a tenously comfortable position on your left hip again.

3:12am: 'Fetal Dance Party' begins in your uterus, since all the moving has awakened your little one. Thinking a change in position whill settle the baby, you roll to your right side, only to discover that 1.) your right hip still hurts, and 2.) the baby is up and moving regardless of whatever position you might attempt.

3:30am: Cry silently as baby continues his early morning aerobics.

3:45am: Your right hip now hurts so bad you roll back over to your left hip, which still hurts. You are not surprised by this anymore, only pitifully accepting. Get up and pee just because you can, and because walking feels somewhat better than laying down at this point.

3:50am: Return to bed and roll around attempting to get comfortable. Loudly suggest to your sleeping husband things he could do to help you: "Why don't you carry this baby for me then, huh, buddy?", and offer up blame and guilt: "This is your baby, too, you know".

4:00am: Offer husband a teary "Well, FINE THEN" as he retreats to the sofa to get away from your rolling and complaining.

5:00am: Wake up, fully aware that both hips hurt and there is no comfortable position. Get up, pee, and walk around the house, mumbling things to yourself. Glare resentfully at sleeping family members. Watch a little TV and hate it; there is nothing good on at 5am. Turn off TV and return to bed, exhausted and still aching.

5:15am: Re-discover the power of prayer: "Please, God, let me sleep".

5:30am: Fall asleep in a bizarre, contorted position that requires multiple pillows in odd places and angles. Sleep for two hours. Get up, pee, and give up the notion of sleep for this day, at the very least.

9:30am: Try not to scream when a stranger in Wal-Mart tells you, "Well, sleep now, because you won't later". You somehow find the restraint to not shake them senseless and bellow, "I DON'T SLEEP NOW!". Grit your teeth as people you have never met and will never see again tell you how very "huuuuuuuuuuuuge" you are and express their horror that you are out in public in such a state and manner. Wish you really had gone through with making that t-shirt that says:
1.) It's a boy.
2.) I am due January 26th.
3.) Yes, I realize that I am enormous, possibly the most vast pregnant
woman you have ever seen. Thank you for taking time out of both
of our days to point that out, as it is exactly the boost to my esteem
I needed.

Yeah, that'll do. I'm going to try and find something that will give me the attitude adjustment I apparently desperately need. Here's hoping!

Babies and Ramen Noodles

Little Guy has dropped down a little bit lower, just overnight, it almost seems. Or maybe it's been a gradual process and I just haven't noticed. I found out at my last doctor's appointment that he is head down and ready to roll. I can't believe I'm 29 weeks already. Knowing myself the way I do, reality will not slap me in the face until I hit thirty weeks. Fourth quarter, people! Time to step up the game! I still need to pre-register at the hospital. Gotta do that. And pick a pediatrician. This might be a terrible thing, but I'm not obsessive over a pediatrician. I wasn't with Jacelyn, either. My doctor keeps encouraging me to interview pediatricians. What do you ask at one of those? "So, um....you like kids?". I guess they have to like kids, or at least put up a good front. The only particular I have with a pediatrician is whether or not they will support breastfeeding. Other than that, I don't know. You can interview someone, but sitting there yakking about particulars is completely different from how they will actually be around your newborn/infant/toddler. I have reservations about some of the vaccinations, but none of the reservations are so powerful that I would not have him receive them. I guess. What do you ask? I'm clueless.

On the home front, my upstairs neighbor is apparently the Ping-Pong champion of the world. And being the Ping-Pong champion of the world requires practice, folks. None of this namby-pamby couple of hours of practice a night thing - Thursday night there was ping-pong action from about 9:30pm until about 4:00am.I laid down on the loveseat just before 10:00, determined to prop my feet up to hopefully alleviate the massive swelling in my ankles. I watched a little TV and then drifted off to sleep, but was awakened by the ping-pong upstairs. It's not just the pinging and ponging that drives you crazy; it's also the foot motion involved. While at the table itself you have to jump, and slide, and shift around, and then when you aren't playing you have to go outside for a smoke, and apparently run laps around the living room to stay warmed up until it is your turn again. And when you leave at 3AM to make a beer run you have to talk loudly on the stairs, saying "Dude!" a lot, followed by other silly and inane things, but you have to make certain that the 'Dude!" is audible for a good fifty feet, otherwise you aren't cool. And when you're in the ping-pong game, there's nothing more important than street cred. I did take the time to lay there and marvel at their staying power. I think the only things I have ever done for seven hours straight is work, sleep, and read. I endured the noise out of sheer laziness and comfort, but was finally forced to my bedroom at about 4AM. I don't know if there was a doubles match taking place or what, but the foot traffic noise had picked up considerably, and the scribble-scrabbling from over my head was too much to take. The noise wasn't nearly as bad once I was in my bed. They have their ping-pong table in their dining room, which is the room furthest away from the two bedrooms, so it didn't disturb Brian or Jacelyn a bit. Thankfully. Things were better last night. I don't know if the ping pong marathon wore them out, but they were decidedly subdued. We shall see. They seem harmless, if not a little annoying (the entire crowd smokes on the balcony and throws their cigarettes onto the ground, so our patio area is littered with the things). But it could be worse, so I'll roll with it.

Unpacking is going slowly, but at least it is going. We're having Brian's family over for dinner tomorrow evening, so I have a deadline to keep in making things look presentable. Even if that means taking the final few boxes, shoving them into our room and closing the door. I have to say all this cleaning and sorting and putting away is good for my nesting instincts. And I had a moment the first morning we were there that made it all worth it, when I realized I was standing in the kitchen, washing dishes while wearing only my underwear. That moment, odd as it may sound, was magical to me, especially considering that 1.) I have lived with my in-laws for the last 2 1/2 years, and 2.) before that I lived with my sister-in-law for a year, so I haven't been able to wash dishes in my underpants for quite some time. Hooray!

For dinner last night I made the most bizarre salad that turned out to be quite good. I have a enduring fondness and love for ramen noodles, so that must be taken into consideration before you make a face at my atrocious taste:

Ramen Spinach Salad
INGREDIENTS
2 (3 ounce) packages chicken flavored ramen noodles
8 cups torn spinach leaves
2 cups cooked and cubed chicken
1 cup seedless red grapes, halved
1 cup sliced red bell peppers
1/2 cup chopped cashews
1/2 cup Gorgonzola cheese, crumbled
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 lemon, juiced
1/3 cup olive oil
1/4 cup light mayonnaise
1 red bell pepper, sliced
20 grape clusters, for garnish
DIRECTIONS
Cook ramen noodles according to package directions, without adding the flavor packets. Drain noodles and cool. Cut noodles into large bite size pieces.
In a large bowl combine the torn spinach leaves, cooked turkey or chicken, halved grapes, red pepper, cashews, Gorgonzola or blue cheese, and ramen noodles.
In a small bowl mix flavor packets, garlic, and lemon juice and let stand at least 15 minutes. Add oil and mayonnaise and whisk until smooth.
Pour dressing over salad and toss until thoroughly mixed. Garnish with red pepper rings and small grape clusters, if desired. Serve.

I changed this quite a bit, to accommodate our sad lack of groceries: I only used one packet of chicken ramen, and about half a bag of regular fresh spinach mixed with a few handfuls of plain old garden salad mix (to make up for our pitiful lack of other vegetables). We cut up a rotisserie chicken Brian brought home from work, added some sliced tomatoes, and I only had green grapes, so I quartered a handful of those and tossed them in. I didn't have cashews, bell pepper, or cheese, so I had to omit those as well. I did make the dressing almost as directed, except I only used the one seasoning packet from the ramen noodles (and kept the dressing on the side, as I was dubious about it). I let the garlic, seasoning and lemon juice sit for fifteen minutes, then mixed it with the mayo (Duke's fat-free) and olive oil and put it in the fridge, where it sat for about a half hour or so. When I first mixed it up it tasted way too salty, but after sitting the fridge for a while it thickened up and mellowed a bit. I actually liked it (and I am notoriously picky), and Brian liked it, too. We polished off the whole big salad and all the dressing. Yum! Weird, but yum.

I'm going to get some work done and try to get through this day so I can get home and hang out with Jacelyn, whom I feel like I haven't really seen or spent time with in weeks. Have a good weekend and a good Veteran's Day!

Man Killed; Wife Responsible

Pensacola, FL: A 29-year old pregnant woman murdered her husband with her bare hands yesterday, literally choking the life out of him as they shopped for furniture. "It was the two-tone sofa," the woman sobbed. "It was a dark brown fleather (fake leather) base with a khaki microsuede pillow top. When he added the pie-slice shaped cherry and glass end tables and the granite-colored polka dotted lamps I just snapped, I couldn't stop myself".

According to the wife, the incident occurred after roughly six hours and eight different furniture stores. The man insisted they go back to their first stop of the day, a Rooms to Go, and was seriously inquiring about a ridiculously expensive furniture package when the woman grabbed him by the throat and choked him. "He's just too big to shake" she was overheard saying. "Otherwise I would have just shaken the s**t out of him".

A salesperson named Krissy was also injured in the incident. She was treated and released at a local hospital for injuries consistent with being shaken vigorously. A witness at the scene reported: "The wife just kept shaking her and screaming, 'Don't encourage him! What are you doing? Those pieces do not go together!'". The wife reportedly told police the salesperson kept telling her husband he had 'an eye' for interior design.

The woman is currently out on bail pending further investigation. A source in the prosecutor's office has said that charges will most likely not be filed, since "...it really was a terribly ugly furniture grouping".





I really hate furniture shopping, can you tell? I really could have murdered Brian yesterday. Luckily (for him) we did not purchase the offensive furniture in question.





This is the sofa. Apparently the lamp and the table set are so terrible that RTG won't put them on the website, so you'll have to use your imagination. The sofa:

Now picture this sofa with cherry and glass pie-slice shaped coffee and end tables, and then add two very bulky textured lamps with enormous raised polka dots in a granite-gray color. It was terrible. Like I said, we didn't buy it, but I was scared - it was a close call.

Brian hates everything I like. I, being a mature adult, am willing to compromise, so I told him I would just go with what he liked. Until I saw this grouping, and then I had serious second thoughts. Luckily for me, 'Krissy' fibbed about some pricing items and then neglected to mention the additional $110 for what is basically ScotchGaurd-ing (apparently a 'required option', a phrase which has amused me endlessly). Brian was livid and we left. Whew!

Moving in went terribly. We actually didn't move in. The apartment wasn't ready that morning (that's why we ended up furniture shopping), so we had to wait until 2:00. We actually didn't get there until 3:30, and walked in to a nasty mess. The carpet was still wet, for one. And the apartment itself was disgusting. Mold in and on the refrigerator, cigarette butts on the floor, the stove and oven had not even been touched. Mildewed caulking in the bathroom. I can't even list all the issues we had. Brian called the office and told them that we expected to clean when we moved in, but we thought that they might have the place cleaned, and it didn't look like they did. They ended up sending their cleaning crew out again, and we were told to come back at 6:00.

We returned at 6:00 to a marginally cleaner home. Still mold and mildew everywhere, but whatever. So Michelle, Joe and I cleaned until about 12:30am. I went home and collapsed into bed, and here I am looking at a weekend of cleaning and moving. Sigh. It will all be worth it soon, that's what I keep telling myself.

Brian watched Jacelyn while we cleaned, feeding her and got her showered and in bed (almost certainly late - I didn't ask because I didn't want to know, but judging from her demeanor this morning before school she was up late), and then hung out at his mother's house, calling us occassionally to check in. He later decided to replace all the light bulbs with energy effecient bulbs, so he went to the store and bought a ton of bulbs, and then came over and got in everyone's way changing them, walking through freshly mopped floors in his sneakers, flipping the light out in the bathroom while I was cleaning the shower....really, I think if I had killed him yesterday no jury would have convicted me.

So moving happens Sunday. The only item in the house are Jacelyn's bathroom set, and then Brian's new living room furniture (ugh) and the television that he insisted on bringing over, to 'make sure that the cable works'. Here's to a busy weekend!

Oh, crap

Yesterday morning I had to go back to the hospital (my third Tuesday in a row, now) for my sugar test. I got to the hospital and went to the lab, where the technician immediately started drawing blood. Now, I have had a sugar test before and knew this was not how things went. So I spoke up, and voiced that I was supposed to be there for the hour long sugar test. The tech dismissed me, saying that he does what the lab order tells him to do. I insisted, in a nice way, that things were not as they should have been, he insisted (as he finished up drawing the eighth vial of my blood) that he was following the requested tests as ordered. He finished up and sent me out, and I can honestly say that for just a moment I considered playing stupid and just leaving. And then when I saw my doctor again, and he asked where my results were, I could just get all wide-eyed and dumb and pretend like I didn't know the correct test wasn't performed. But, regular diabetes runs in my family, and my sister had gestational diabetes, so I'm not going to play around with little guy's health, not to mention my own. So I sighed and went upstairs to my doctor's office to speak with them.

After some confusion, it turns out that the nurse checked the wrong box on the lab order. Lab work costs us between $200-$300 every time, and because she wasn't paying attention I have to go to the lab AGAIN, on another day, to do the test. I'm seriously thinking about telling them I am not going to be responsible for the bungled tests. I mean, you can't decipher what exactly those lab orders say - it's all numbers or abbreviations, so I had no idea that the wrong box was checked. I drove ALL THE WAY over to West Florida Hospital from my house for a blood glucose screen, which was not the correct test and not necessary, to boot. And's that's not mentioning the gas I burned getting out there.

I can't go today to do to have the proper test performed because I have a ton of work to do. I can't do it tomorrow, because we're moving. And I could probably do it Friday morning, but it just galls me that I have to miss time from work (that I get paid for) to correct their error. Ooooooooh, I'm mad. I'm getting over it. I love my doctor, and I love his nurse (she was not the one who made the error), but I can't stand the hospital.

They are terrible with information, and their billing is a mess. I have received final notice bills for amounts and items that I have never been billed for previously. There's about $600 in lab charges that are bouncing around between them and my insurance company, and anytime insurance gives them flack for anything (even and seemingly especially when they are simply asking for more information) they turn around and bill my maiden name for charges incurred by my married name, but they do always give my maiden name the no-insurance coverage discount, which I think is nice since my maiden name is not a real, separate person and therefore not eligible for employment or health care coverage. I just received an insurance statement the other day, denying coverage for two claims made by this same hospital for services rendered in February, 2006. The claim was denied because of its' age. So, since they waited over a year to file this claim, now I'm responsible for the entire thing? That's just bad business. Oooooh, I just can't stand this hospital.

I'll have to get over it.

Oh, and in a side note, yesterday while driving through downtown I inadvertently drove through (yes, through, as in there was a puddle/pile) some raw sewage, and now my car smells terribly of poo. Sigh.

Update! A long, whiny update....

Tuesday morning's ultrasound did NOT make me feel any better. The registration people had my information all screwed up, and I paid half of the $396 that was my portion of the ultrasound and agreed to make monthly payments for the rest. That was so much money! Especially when you're trying to move and can use every penny.


The ultrasound was started by a trainee, who just sort of cruised around with the wand, checking things out, until the real technician got there. The real technician had to verify with me what she was supposed to be looking for - not an encouraging sign. Then she proceeded to maul my pregnant belly for twenty minutes. She hurt me. She was using way too much pressure, and she kept letting the wand and my stomach dry out, which was quite uncomfortable, as well.


The tech couldn't get Little Guy to move his head (he had pulled his face in towards his chest), and finally ordered me to go use the restroom to see if he would stretch out. I gratefully complied, and upon my return to the room there was a new tech there, who told me he was going to be finishing up. Twenty minutes of him poking around and he sent some pictures off and declared that he would be right back. When he left the room the little trainee hopped back on the machine and kept on with the test. Don't get me wrong, I love seeing my baby, but I was uncomfortable, unhappy, and wanted to be done with the whole experience. Ultrasound technicians cannot tell you anything except the most basic information, so while they could tell me what they were looking at, they could not tell me why they were looking at it or if they saw anything amiss. An hour of silence, only broken occassionally to tell me what I was seeing, and then only if I asked.


A few minutes after the real tech left he returned, saying he just needed a few more pictures. And he did the same thing three more times - leave, return, resume, leave. It was making me paranoid. And every time he left the trainee would hop back in. I felt like a training dummy.


Finally, we were done. They sent me on my way after an hour, a full hour, none the wiser as to what was happening with my baby. I did think to ask when my doctor would get the test results back, and the tech said two days.


So the next day I called my OB's office and left a message with his nurse. She called me back promptly the next morning and I explained to her that I just wanted - no, needed to know, for my own peace of mind, if they ultrasound(s) looked OK. She promised to call me back. And at the end of the day, my doctor called me back. Himself! And said everything looked fine, they didn't see any of the anomolies that are generally associated with SUA on either scan. I feel much, much better now. Whew!


Now as for Ms. Jacelyn - well, Friday I had a conference with her teacher. It was at this conference, this time last year, that I got her report card. And that was K4, so since she's actually an official kindergartener this year, I figured this would be even more official. I arrived at my school-scheduled time of 7:45 (an evil time to assign, I thought - the kids didn't have school, so I could have slept late if I didn't have such an early time) and met with her teacher, who just loooooooooooves my little girl. She said she occassionally talks when she is supposed to be listening, but not in such a way that it was a big problem. She said Jacelyn is a very good reader, her writing is excellent, and she's a very good student and a smart girl.


Then she said that they will not have report cards this term, just a little progress report (that was a photocopied report card filled out in pencil that I could not take with me). The progress report showed conduct, and then the grades for special classes. Jacelyn is still in the S, G, and P age for special classes (exceeds, meets, and then I'm not sure what a P stands for because she has never received one before and I don't have anything to refer back to). Her teacher showed me her special class (music, art, etc) grades, which I didn't have much of a chance to look at too closely, and then pointed out a 'P' in her art grades. I suppose the 'P' was for talking, or not listening to directions, but I don't know that. So I left the art teacher a message, asking her to call me back. Not so I can harangue her (although the overprotective mother in me would love to, wants to, in fact), but so I can find out what Jacelyn is doing so that I can speak to Jacelyn about it and fix it. The art teacher called me back today (Monday) and said that it was, indeed, for talking, but that she was already improving over the last two or three weeks and that it wasn't a problem. Or at least, it was a problem and was correcting itself.

I don't know why they didn't give out report cards. Jacelyn's teacher didn't know. I think it's kind of crappy - I mean, I would like to know how my daughter is doing in all areas of her education, not just her conduct and art, music and PE. I mean, what she is learning is important, and to not issue a report card on it seems to say it's not that important, or that they haven't done enough to merit reporting on, which I know isn't true. It bothers me. Not so much that I can't sleep at night, but it sticks a little in the corner of my mind. All the other grades got report cards. I don't know - I guess I'll just have to get over it, but I don't think it's very fair to just decide not to issue a report card without notice or an explanation.

I have to go home and sort through nut orders for my daisies, then continue with my packing so we will be at least sort of somewhat ready to move on Thursday. I have begrudgingly accepted the fact that we probably won't be able to stay at the new house Thursday night, just due to the sheer volume of crap that we own that needs to be gone through and sorted, but I cannot wait. I am so ready. I have been ready for the last two and a half years.

I packed up most of Jacelyn's stuff yesterday. We have the complication of leaving some stuff at Brian's parents and bringing some of it with us. Jacelyn had to go through everything, every single thing - every hot wheel, every pair of socks, even every pair of panties, and seriously think about whether it stays at Maw-Maw's or goes to the new house. We went through her underpants one at a time and she would mull over who-knows-what in her head. "Ummmm... the princess panties can go to the new house, but the My Little Pony ones should stay here. And remember those Spongebob ones? I think I want to bring those insteand of leave them". There was serious consideration involved. She still hasn't decided about the Dora Dollhouse - that has been boxed and unboxed about six times. I guess when you're five that is an agonizing decision - do I bring Candyland, or Chutes and Ladders? I tried to remind her that we will be just down the street, but that matters not to her little five-year old way of thinking. The toys left behind will not be immediately accessible, and that's all she seems to see.

I have my sugar test at the hospital tomorrow, and then I have to stop by the council store to pick up some 'Pizza Party' patches for the girls. Then off to Wal-Mart, to pick up the fixins' for english muffin pizzas, then off to scouts, where we will make pizzas and play games for our hour - we've been so busy making stuff for the big cluster meeting last Friday that we haven't had a chance to just have fun, so that is what tomorrow afternoon is all about. Then more packing, and more packing, and Brian's birthday is Wednesday, and then Thursday we move in. I'm tired, and sore, and my back and my hips hurt, and I've had a couple of mean Braxton-Hicks contractions today, but you know? We're moving out, finally, so that's all OK. Until afterwards, when I will be a mess, but that's OK too. Wish us luck!

Movin' on out

Oh, that's right, people. November 1st I will be making my triumphant exit from my MIL's house, where I have lived for the past 2 1/2 years. It's into a small apartment, and when I say that people make a face and say, "An apartment?" and I say, "I've been living with my MIL for the last two years. I started out sleeping on the floor of Jacelyn's room, with only my clothes with me, stuffed into plastic rubbermaid drawers underneath her bed. An apartment will be a palace". And it will be.

It will be 980 square feet of heaven, is what it will be. It will be privacy and personal time, it will be time I can spend with my daughter, just the two of us. Right now, we can't lie in bed on a Sunday morning and have a tickle fight without someone banging on the door or just barging in, asking for rides or for help or for Jacelyn to go get the paper out of the driveway. I can't discipline her without somone coming behind me and allowing her to do whatever I said she couldn't do: if I tell her she can't have anything else to eat because she didn't eat her dinner, my MIL gives her a popsicle. If I tell her she has to go to bed early, my SIL slips her a flashlight and a coloring book and markers. If I tell her she can't leave her room until its clean, someone slips in and cleans it for her while I'm busy cleaning the tub. Aunties and Grandmas are nice to visit but not the best place to live if you're trying to instill some discipline. Please don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful to have them around. It's wonderful for Jacelyn to have so much family surrounding her, and they love her very much.

It's small, but small equals less to clean. It's affordable, and will allow us to save some money so hopefully buying a home will be in our future, maybe a year from now or so. I won't have to worry about cutting grass. I won't have to worry about getting my lazy husband to fix something around the house. Little Guy won't have his own room, but he probably won't notice. I plan on nursing, but I'm a lazy nurser, so he'll be in a bassinet in our room for a while. And the very best part? It will be ours. Jacelyn can roam around in her panties, if she wants to, or even *GASP* naked. She has sadly been denied the childhood pleasure of partial nudity at whim. I had to convince her it was OK to take her pajama pants off at night, if she got too hot in bed.

I'm excited. I'm glad we're doing this now, before I'm too huge to help. My goal is to be completely ready for Little Guy by the end of the year. Moved in, unpacked, organized. I've even been doing some reading on freezer cooking, and I think I'm going to do that occassionally (prepare an extra meal and freeze it, only requiring thawing and reheating), so once LG does make his appearance we'll have easy to fix meals on hand and not have to order pizza or eat out or spend every evening at my MIL's house. I remember what it was like to have an infant, but this time around I'll have an infant and a five year old, who has to get to bed on time and get to school and be picked up and whatnot, amongst feedings and cleaning and working and all the other stuff in a day. Mothers are superheroes.

Jacelyn is on her way to Tampa as we speak. Brian's grandmother (from the Phillipines) is having her 80th birthday party this weekend, and Jacelyn, Michelle, Joe, and Brian's dad are all driving down there to surprise her. She has never met Jacelyn before, so it should be neat. I miss Jacelyn, terribly, but I'm sure she'll enjoy herself. Brian is in Tallahassee for the Florida State and Miami game today - he'll be in later tonight. Everyone is off enjoying themselves, while I sit here at work. Blogging, granted, but at work nonetheless. Sigh. Oh well. That still cannot dim my enthusiasm for MOVING DAY! Hooray!

I'm going to get to work. Thanks to TX Jen, for making sure we all weren't blown away by that tornado that zipped through town, and for taking time to make certain I was alright. You're a sweet girl!

My bad, y'all

Sorry I flipped out on my last post.

Now that I have taken some time to reflect (and to be forbidden to continue 'googling' SUA, that helps), I am feeling much more calm and optimistic. I am going to operate on the assumption that they did NOT find any other anomalies in the last ultrasound, and THAT is why no one called me with the information, and I had to find out from a doctor whom I had never seen before and who didn't give me enough information. Oops. Well, I said I was calm, but apparently I'm still bitter. I'll work on that.

We're OK, little guy and I. He's going to be fine. We're going to be fine. But we'll still take those prayers, if you got 'em. Thanks.

Houston, we have a problem

Most babies have three blood vessels in their umbilical cords: two arteries and one vein. My little guy's cord only has one artery and one vein. This is called Single Umbilical Artery. Here is a link to a page that describes it, somewhat: http://www.womens-health.co.uk/sua.asp. This site, and every other site I've encountered, is a roller coaster for me. I feel better, then I feel worse. I am encouraged, then dejected. I think, 'Oh, this is OK', and then a paragraph later I am in tears.
I've been reading about genetic testing, intrauterine growth retardation, all of that.

I am freaked out. FREAKED OUT! And I have to confess to feeling slightly let down by my doctor, whom I have been absolutely smitten with up to this point. I got this news yesterday, at my four week check-up. I was seeing my doctor's partner, whom I had never seen before. She casually asked if my doctor had gone over my ultrasound results with me (the ultrasound that took place 4 weeks ago, mind you); I told her he had not, since I had seen him that morning before the ultrasound. She dropped the two-vessel-cord bombshell, then said they just wanted to monitor baby's growth from here on out. I asked if there was anything I needed to be concerned about or needed to know; she said no.

Then she said I should start coming in every two weeks for appointments (which is seems a trifle early to be doing, but whatever) and should make an appointment for an ultrasound in the next 1-2 weeks, so they can monitor growth and check out baby's face - he was trying to bury his face in my uterus at my last ultrasound, so they couldn't tell if he had a cleft lip and/or palate. Imagine a child of mine being camara shy. So next Tuesday I go for my next ultrasound, and then my sugar test. Then two weeks after that I go to see my doctor again.

I feel like he should have called me. But then, he didn't call me, and if he's a good doctor (Like I really feel he is) maybe it's because he wasn't concerned about the results. And I think that the doctor yesterday should have given me more information. I understand why she wouldn't want to give me the cold hard facts about SUA; she doesn't want me to panic (which I am doing now, because I looked the information up myself without a doctor around to temper my findings with facts), she doesn't want me to worry. I appreciate that. But I would rather be well informed. Did they see any of the potential developmental abnomalities normally associated with SUA? Heart, kidneys, nervous system issues? Did they rule that out? If they did rule those out, for which I would be eternally grateful, WHY COULDN'T SHE TELL ME THAT. If they didn't, why did she say the next ultrasound was just to monitor growth?

I'm just nervous, and I'm making too much of this, and I'm blathering. But I want more information. I understand there is no way of knowing for sure how things will turn out, I'm not asking to look into the future, but I want to know what they do know, at least as they can tell in the ultrasound.

Please pray for our baby, if you pray. I'm sure everything is fine, but it can't hurt. I'll keep you updated.

And it's aaaaaaaaaaaaaa....

Boy! A big, healthy boy. Hooray!

Two more days!

My appointment and ultrasound are WEDNESDAY. Woo-hoo! I'm so excited. Not just because I'm hoping to find out what little Bun is, but also because it's been so long since I've seen him/her. My last ultrasound was at 10 or 11 weeks. It will be nice to confirm that there is indeed a baby in there creating all that commotion, not just gas.


Hit up my poll on the right over here and give me your guesses, if you have time. All four people who read this. And banana is just there for humor, please don't pick it. :-)

Jacelyn is funny

Tuesday afternoon Jacelyn had a triangle-shaped blank banner (pink, of course) in her folder, with instructions to use it to make a banner about family. You could use pictures, stickers, markers, whatever. I promptly forgot about it until last night. After I got home from work I put it in front of her and instructed her to start drawing about her family. She promptly drew a frog. I pointed out that she did not have a frog in her family, and then she decided it was a dog. I pointed out again that she doesn't have a dog, and she sighed. "Well, you can just do this, then". No, that's not how it works. "It's a bird, then." she said. I told her wearily that she doesn't have a bird, and then she pointed to Brian's mother's bird (whose cage was immediately behind us, duh me). So she wrote "BIRD" and then "DANNY" in large letters. "I'm done!" she announced. No. Sigh.

I drew a small Bernardo family tree of those family members she is surrounded by the most (including her father, even though she sees him less than anyone else, ha). She was very surly. "Well what do I do now?" she grumped. I told her to think of fun things she does with people in her family, and draw pictures about that. We started with Maw-Maw. "What do you do with Maw-Maw?" She thought about that for a second and then her face lit up. "How do you spell Wal-Mart?" she asked. I snickered and told her, so for her Maw-Maw she made a Wal-Mart sign. For Paw-Paw she had me draw music notes, since they listen to music together. For Michelle she drew a house, since she loves to play at Auntie's house.For Uncle Joe she drew a planetarium, since he goes to school by the planetarium. For daddy, it got tough for some reason. So she just wrote "I LOVE DADDY". I had deliberately saved myself for last, and was all a-flutter wondering what she would draw. A book, since we read together? A pot or a pan, since we cook together? Something about painting? She instructed me not to look while she drew what reminds her of me. I waited anxiously, and she finally said I could look, and I looked down and there was.....a car. "Because we ride in the car so much together!" she explained. Oh. Huh. I mean, we do ride in the car a lot together, to and from school and whatnot, but I've never particularly thought of that as fun. Usually in the mornings we are grumpy and disgruntled with each other, and in the afternoons we are hot and I have to tell her that she can't do any of the things she wants to do and she gets grumpy again and I am usually miserably hot and feeling yucky and not the best company. Oh well.

She also amused me Tuesday afternoon. She was leaning against my belly and felt the baby kick. "what was that?" she asked. "That was Bun-Bun, kicking". "Really?" she asked, amazed. I told her if she held still she could probably feel it again, and she did. Then she leapt up and jumped onto the sofa beside me. "Open your mouth!" she ordered urgently. "Why?" I asked. "Just open your mouth!" So I did, and she leans forward and shouts into my open mouth, "BUN-BUN!" in a most urgent manner, almost like someone shouting down a mineshaft. It was very funny.

I guess that's enough 'funny stuff my kid said and/or did' for one day. I'm just looking forward to the weekend, where I will have Sunday and Monday off. Two days off consecutively! What's that like? I plan on spending some down time with Jacelyn (and not in the car), and then doing some packing. You can never be too ready! And if Brian has to live surrounded by boxes, maybe he will be in more of a hurry to leave his mother's house. I do not plan on that being an easy month for him, at all. Because I am evil and cunning. Have a happy and safe Labor Day weekend!

It's in the vault

Last night, after her shower, as Jacelyn was putting on her pajamas, she asked if she could stay up. I regretfully told her she could not, she had to get to bed. Next, in our little natural order of bedtime events, came tooth-brushing and hair drying. She saw the hair dryer on the counter and looked slightly panicked, and then hopped up into my lap. "I love school, mama" she cooed, hugging me. I was amused and decided to roll with it. "Oh really? What do you love about school?" And then she sang like a bird. She gave up information I have been asking about since the first day of school. She told me about why she doesn't play with some of her best friends from last year anymore, she told me she really, really loves her teacher, she counted to 50 by 5's (something she actually played dumb about when I asked her if she could do the other day), she told me what day it was and gave me the correct calender date. I was flabbergasted.

This is the same child who, in the car after school, can only offer up her morning trip to the bathroom that required some wiping assistance as the day's big event. "What else happened at school?" I will ask her. "Nothing." she will reply, shrugging and looking out the window. "What did you learn about?" I will continue, stubbornly. "Nothing" she responds again. "Who did you play with?" I will ask, chagrined. "My friends" she will answer, as though this should have been obvious. "Which friends?" I ask, a little desperately now. "You know, my friends." "But which one?" I will persist. "Madison" she answers, each time. Having heard this answer EVERY DAY since school started, I recently commented to Madison's mother on how much the two girls play together. Madison's mother said, "Really? Madison never says that she plays with Jacelyn. I even asked her the other day, and she said they don't see each other that often". I am getting the brush-off answer from my five year old! Ack!

That's OK, though. She needs her space, and her time, and things that stay hers. If she wants to keep information to herself, she can. I'll just remember to hit her up before bedtime every now and then so I can keep up.

Lust for power: slaked (for now)

So. Tired. Not as tired as I was yesterday, but still pretty damn tired.

Yesterday was our first girl scout meeting. We combined the brownies and the daisies into one group and they all met together. This wasn't an official meeting, this was just a get together so the old girls could reunite and any new faces could get a taste of girl scouting and decide if they want to try it out.

I am leading the Daisy troop, with Michelle helping me. What started out as an itty bitty group of girls has now blossomed into 10 (only eight were there yesterday, though). At one point in the meeting, I looked down and there were eight little faces looking expectantly up at me, and the thought occurred to me: I have minions! Sweet! I have blue-smocked flying monkeys to do my evil bidding! It was only a temporary, amusing thought, but it made me laugh for the rest of the day.

In all seriousness, it went really well. It's a good group of girls who get along well and behave well and I think it's going to be a good year. Here's hoping.

How do you spell relief? H-A-N-D-G-U-N

So much going on, my gracious, and I am stressed out. My blood pressure was a bit high at my last OB appointment, and he brought that up, and I said, "Well....." and then gave him the short version of my life right now. He was briefly speechless.

Brian is coming back. That's right, ladies and gentleman, Brian is making his triumphant return to home, hearth and family. Well, family, at least, there is no home. The end of September, around the 29th, is when he starts work. This is good, in many ways. This also will be a little bad, but mostly good. He wants to stay with his mother for one more month (just one more!) to get some extra money put back, which makes me want to throw a temper tantrum. I want to jump, and scream, and pull at my clothes and hair and say "NO NO NO NO NO I have done this for this long and you want me to do it longer, and with you around? NONONONONO". But, I won't do that. I have done it for this long; what is one more month? One more long, agonizing, month of no privacy, of arguments and and petty annoyances and the little things that, although small, make you want to scream and murder someone. One more month of my MIL making sure that I really did set the coffeepot for the next morning. One more month of her waiting until I go to bed and then adding things to Jacelyn's lunch that Jacelyn is not allowed to have at school (cookies, candy, sweets, etc). Just one more month. What's one more month? Sigh. Just a little more of the precious little sanity I have left. But that's OK - with kids and family, it helps to be crazy, and I am fortunate enough to live in the south, where we love our crazy people. It will be OK. Because it has to be.

I saw the OB on August 22nd. Weight is fine, the blood pressure a little high. Bun got stressed out trying to avoid the doppler and his/her heart rate increased while we were listening, which was rather cute and funny. My next appointment and my sonogram will be September 19th. That's a big day! Hopefully Bun will cooperate and we will be able to find out what we're having - boy, girl, banana, whatever. I want to know.

That's all for now. I'll get to Jen's tag when I can get to it - she's going to be too busy anyway, so she'll never notice.

Looks like we made it

Well, the first day of school has come and gone. Jacelyn was a trooper this morning; she was actually somewhat horrified that I insisted on walking her up to her class. "Well, I see Savannah, I'm going to walk with her" she informed me, almost leaping out of the car before I had stopped it completely and running to meet her friend. So I stood and watched. She was on her best behavior and made me quite proud. She entered her new class with a little wave (that included a bit of a 'Shoo!' gesture that I chose to ignore) and there she was, my kindergartner, starting her first day.

Pickup went a LOT less smoothly. A bunch of the new parents crowded around the classroom door with videocameras and whatnot, waiting for their little genuises to emerge. This panicked the priest (who has a slight obsession with following proper pickup procedure), who called for Sister, who literally ran up to the classrooms and took over the proceedings. Father doesn't like it when we get out of our cars. Especially once the bell has rung. He is very clear on that, and will glower at you until you meekly return, thoroughly chastened, to the safety of your vehicle. The ensuing mayhem caused the kids to get out a little later than usual, with the first little ones being shepherded out fifteen minutes late. And the presence of Father and Sister made people think twice about their usual mad dash out of the parking lot. Father was yelling at people: "Stop! Where are you going, are you trying to kill someone?", and then in his next breath would screech, "Go! Go! You're holding up the line!". Everyone was confused, hot, and disgruntled, except the kids, who just wanted to go home and maybe have some lunch. Proving that children are basically OK until parents and administrators get overly involved, and we just make things difficult.

Jacelyn said K5 is fun. And then she gave me a very sly little "Guess who I sit by, mommy?" I asked "Who?". "I sit by a booooooy. And guess who sits in front of me?". "Who?" I ask, expecting maybe one of the Emily's or Jackie. "Another booooooooy". Oh, Lord. But she enjoyed herself and wants to go back tomorrow, so that's a good sign. Whew.

Bla bla bla yakkity-yakkity

You know, the ticker on the right over here seemed like a cute idea at first, and it's nice to be able to come here and remind myself of exactly how far along I am and whatnot, but now it's starting to creep me out. That, and one time I stopped by and there was no baby in the circle, making me panic slightly before realizing how ridiculous it would be to panic over something that. Anyway, I may or may not remove it, but I do apologize for it being annoying/irritating/creepy/weird.

Back-to-school preparations for Jacelyn are progressing smoothly. There were some bumps in the road that have now smoothed out and we both anxiously await her return to class. I am not signing up for any volunteer work through the school this year - room mom or anything similar. Either you don't get called, or you get called for everything, and then you get volunteered for most activities anyway, so it doesn't matter if you don't sign up. And I'm not signing up for substitute lunch duty again, because I only got called late Sunday or even early Monday morning, and couldn't do it that day. I figure between girl scouts and having another child I'm going to be busy enough. I'll help where I can, but I would rather people have low expectations and be pleasantly surprised when I can do something, rather than always expect me to help and be disappointed when I can't. Low expectations are the key to happiness, people. I'm telling you. In some cases, I should say.

I'm a wreck right now. I have the normal pregnancy stuff going on, and then there's this whole Brian-may-not-be-able-to-come-back-before-the-baby-is-born thing happening that may OR may not cause Jacelyn and I to have to move there at the end of the year. New school, new doctor, new area, new stress, new everything. Not to mention new baby! Ack! I get palpitations just thinking about it. We're going to sort that out REAL soon, I'll tell you that. Moving a household of crap at eight months is NOT my idea of a fun time. I can't talk about it anymore, it's killing me.

I'm starting to feel the scribble-scrabble of fetal movement. Mostly in the car, but yesterday I had some pants on that had a waistline that dear little Bun apparently found uncomfortable and felt the need to jab at every time I sat down. That's really the coolest part of pregnancy, feeling the little boogar move around. Until they (and correspondingly, you) get all huge and then it can be uncomfortable. Or make you pee on yourself. Or talk out loud to your unborn child out of desperation: "OK, OK, I'll stand, I'll sit, I'll lie down, whatever, just please stop hitting me!". And despite the fact that in the third trimester it can feel more like abuse than activity, you still miss that sensation once the little one triumphantly emerges. This one seems to be a jabber, though. Jacelyn was more of a flutterer, but this one seems to prefer a good right hook or spinning kick to the gymnastics that Jacelyn seemed to enjoy while in utero.

My sonogram is coming up in mid-September - and I'm excited. I don't have an appointment yet, so I don't have an exact date - I'll set that up at my next appointment, which is sometime at the end of this month. I want to know. Everyone else wants to know. The Bernardos are DYING to know. Jacelyn doesn't really seem to care but says it would be nice to know so she could buy stuff (which means she will pick out items for Maw-Maw to buy). Of course, sonograms are no guarantee, I know that. With Jacelyn, I had a regular appointment four days before my sonogram and my doctor did an ultrasound then and announced her gender: "Oh, my, that's certainly a girl". Then, four days later at the big, official sonogram, Jacelyn was sleeping and not cooperative in the slightest, and they wouldn't say for certain what sex they thought she might be. If I hadn't had the earlier sonogram we wouldn't have known. So I know that there are no guarantees, but I'm hoping that we will be able to find out. For a while there I was having girl feelings, very strong girl feelings, but now I am not as sure. I'm not having boy feelings, either, so I can't call this one. The heartbeat has been fast every time it's been recorded, but that's more of an old wives tale than any kind of scientific fact - supposedly, faster heartbeat=boy, slower heartbeat=girl. And I can't remember Jacelyn's heartbeat - I think it was just average, but I can't recall for certain, so I really have no basis for comparison.

That's about it for me - that's it and that is enough.

We're alright

I have been pleasantly surprised at every doctor visit. Every time I hear, "You're fine, the baby is fine, everything looks really good" I am amazed. Wha? I think this might be common among people who have miscarried previously. A friend of mine told me once that she didn't feel like things would be OK until she hit 38 weeks (two weeks before your due date).

I saw the doctor today, and Brian came, too. Yes! Brian Bernardo! I know! I didn't believe it until he showed up (later than we had agreed and almost making me late), but there he was, with Jacelyn in tow. We got to hear Bun's heartbeat. My doctor listened to it for a minute and told Jacelyn, "That's a pretty fast heartbeat, this could be a little boy!", to which Jacelyn promptly responded, "You don't know yet". I, completely aghast, said "Jacelyn!" and my doctor said, "Well, she's right, I don't". After I sent Brian and Jacelyn out of the room he proclaimed Jacelyn to be cute yet precocious.

So that's it. Everything is going fine. Woo-hoo!

Hey, man, you told her to

Brian arrived in town last night. Jacelyn and I were sitting on the sofa waiting for him to arrive. He sat down and she was showing him the booty she received from the girl scouts for her cookie sales. Among said booty was a fold up brush-mirror combination thingy. She said she was going to brush his hair and promptly climbed up on the back of the sofa and sat behind his head.

After a few moments Brian looked up and noted out loud: "You have a big booger in your nose, you need to blow it". Jacelyn immediately did what she was told and exhaled strongly through her nose, causing two streams of snot to rocket out of her nostrils and rain down upon Brian's head. I did what any mature mother would do: I laughed, very very hard. Like, stomach clutching hard, like almost peeing on myself hard. Jacelyn sat on the sofa, grinning, two shiny rivulets of snot shimmering on her upper lip. Brian was sitting on the sofa with his hands held up in such a way that you could tell he wanted to touch his snot-encrusted head, but then he didn't dare. I was still laughing.

Eventually, after ordering Jacelyn to go wipe her face, he laughed, too. Even after we laid down for the night I still found myself chuckling. "You wouldn't be laughing if your head was all snotty" Brian remarked. Wouldn't I? I was still caught up in the legalities of it all: "You told her to blow her nose, so she blew her nose". There was no mention of tissue. Common sense would dictate using a tissue, but hey. She's five, and snot is funny when you're five. Heck, I'm almost thirty, and I was terribly amused. See, I would have specified the need for tissue. Maybe I'm just around her more and know her a little better, but a tissue would have been the first thing I said: "Jacelyn, go get a tissue and blow your nose". I know my child, and she needs direction. She does not work well unsupervised. She needs specifics, otherwise you never know what might happen. Hey, wait a minute, I could be talking about myself. Hmmm.

Hey, what if people talked about their babies the way recording artists talked about their albums? I want a t-shirt that says, "Yo, my baby drops 1/26/08". That would be AWESOME.

That's all for now, and was probably more than enough. Later!

They know

I told my family here in town. The reactions:

Dad: "That's real good, that's real good. Isn't it?"
Aunt Rachel: "Good, that's good. Your baby stuff is in my storage unit."
Grandma Morton: "I'm glad I found out from you and not from someone else. Or before you came over here big as a barrel".

Ah, family.

As you can see......

I'm pregnant! It was a surprise (I am always surprised, it seems), but nothing I can't live with.

We found out when I was about four weeks along. I tried to call my former OB's office to ask some questions and get some information, understandably being a little gunshy since the miscarraige a few years ago, and they were very rude and not helpful in the least. Thus wounded, I went to my family doctor and asked him for a referral to an OB. I am THRILLED with my new OB. He is wonderful. On my first visit we actually sat at his desk, in his office, and talked for a good fifteen minutes, before we even got down to the exam. I was atonished.

I have seen baby twice via ultrasound (the transvaginal variety, oh joy). The first time I was only five weeks, so there wasn't much to see. The second time I was just shy of 11 weeks, and you could see the fluttery heartbeat, which was amazing. Then I got to hear the heartbeat, which was also amazing and tear inducing. A very lazy child, though. The first time I saw Jacelyn on ultrasound I was nine weeks pregnant and she was doing acrobatics, so that was what I had to go on. Not this child. This child was lazing around, moving only an occassional shoulder or kicking a leg. It seemed more like we were disturbing it than anything else.

Brian is trying his best (he says) to get home. I have already told him that I will not bring this baby home to his mother's house, nor will I be trying to move and unpack in the midst of my third trimester, so his window is narrowing. We shall see. If he can't get home soon I think we're going to have to find a place anyway and he'll just have to deal with it.

Like I said before, I'm surprised, but happy. What else could I be? I'm 12 weeks today, so I'm "safe" or at least safer. I'm a nervous wreck, that's for sure. But I'm getting by. Anyway, now you know. And I haven't told my dad or family yet, so if you are family or you know my family, don't say anything until I can.

We have told Jacelyn (in the last couple of days). She is thrilled and says that she is pretty certain it's a girl, but, it could be a boy, maybe a little bit, but it's probably a girl. Just between you, me, and the internet, I'm having pretty strong girl feelings myself.

That's about it. The general overall ickiness of the first trimester is starting to subside, slowly, but starting to go. Whew. I'm still tired, but I think that's just how things are going to be. Peeing a lot, hungry every couple of hours. I can't fit into half my clothes - you really do show sooner with your second, that is totally true. I'm not wearing maternity yet, though. Ok, around the house as pajamas, I am, but not out - I refuse to right now. And my bra size? Holy bazongas, Batman, the girls are enormous. ENORMOUS. My hips and thighs have expanded somewhat, which is frustrating, but I have to remind myself that 1. it's for a good cause, 2. it's mostly fluid, not fat, and 3. I lost it once, I can lose it again. My weight gain is fine, so that's going well. Right in line with where its' supposed to be. All my bloodwork came back fine. Everything is going just fine, suspiciously fine, which of course makes me think that doomsday is right around the corner. I'm such an optimist.

I'll keep everyone updated. Later!

Good Morning

I'm in a better mood today than I have been for the past week. Why, you ask? Or maybe you don't ask why, but I shall tell you anyway: I have my car again! Woo-hoo! I am a free spirit, and follow my bliss wherever and whenever it may tug me somewhere. Wal-Mart at 11:30 for milk? Sure! Gas station at 10pm? Why not! Sometimes, once Jacelyn is safely ensconced in her bed, I feel the urge to drive. I've said before how driving is therapy for me. And there's always something that needs to be done. If I'm feeling overwhelmed by the in-laws, I just head out. I have not had that option for the past week, and it has been driving me buggy.

My dear friend Mike made a good point the other day. I was complaining about my lack of ride, and he pointed out that the only alone time I have is in the car. At home, I am surrounded by people. At work, same thing (although the people can be more enjoyable, the exception to that of course being my daughter). The car is the only time I have to be alone, and I missed that sorely this week.

Friday morning was the pinnacle of annoyance for me. The reason I didn't have a car in the first place was because Brian broke something when fixing what was wrong previously, and then he announced I couldn't drive it and promptly left town. My in-laws were very nice about letting me use their vehicles, and about making sure I got to work and such, and I truly appreciate that. Brian was in town Thursday and Friday morning, and took me to work both days. Friday morning, after I emerged from the shower, I went into our room and poked him. "I need to leave" I told him. "Bye" he mumbled, snuggling further into the covers. "No, I need to go to work" I explained further, getting more and more grumpy. "See you later" he replied, rolling over. "NO, I need YOU to take ME to WORK" I explained, emphasizing the key words in my phrase with a hearty poke. "Oh". I went into the living room and waited impatiently by the front door. He limped into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, standing there, scratching his belly and squinting into the fridge. I followed him and glowered pointedly at him. He finally noticed me and said, "Well, did you need to leave now?". No, I just like watching you scratch yourself.

But - the part came in yesterday and Brian's father installed it, and I am happily mobile again. Woo-hoo!

Other than that, there's not a whole lot going on. We're still waiting to hear if Brian got the job in Gulf Breeze. I have to schedule a physical for Jacelyn for school and start gearing up for that. Girl Scouts start just after school does, and I have done NO planning for that. Sigh. I need to get on the ball.

Brian's mother is going to visit with her family in Louisiana for a month. They are leaving Sunday morning, bright and early. His mother, father, sister, and Jacelyn are going. I cannot go because they are staying Sunday night and leaving sometime Monday afternoon to return here. This means.......I will be home alone! At least from 7am to 12pm while Joe is at work. After that Joe and I will be hanging out. I'm looking forward to the few hours of alone time, though. That will be nice. Or I will make it be nice, since I have it so rarely.

reCAPTCHA

I first heard about this on NPR the other day. It's about those word verifiers on websites to prove that you are a real person, and how they are being used to correct scanner errors in books that are being digitized. Commenting on Teresa's blog reminded me of this, and I thought I would share. It's quite interesting, at least to me, although I am a HUGE nerd. Here is the NPR story, and here is the reCAPTCHA website.

Random Mind Droppings

The above title is slightly disgusting yet conveys the mindlessness of my blogging this morning. Very random, unimportant, trivial stuff. Maybe if I bullet point it I won't be so wordy? Let us see:

• The Sopranos finale: I was/am an avid Sopranos fan, although I haven't seen past season 4. I did, however, manage to catch the last scene of the final episode online, and I think I liked it. Everything seemed fraught with meaning, or had the potential to have meaning. Even though I was watching online, and already knew what was going to happen thanks to all the spoilers, I was still anxious while I was watching it. I think David Chase is a smart guy. Not always the best screenwriter, but a smart guy. I think far too much is being made of it - what do people think they are going to do, force HBO to go back and shoot a more satisfactory ending? IT'S FREAKING TV, PEOPLE. If it's that upsetting, perhaps you should find a hobby.
• Brian has been in town since last Saturday. OMG, we are used to each other in far smaller doses than this and are driving each other crazy. I have been taking advantage of his presence in order to go to bed earlier than usual, and I've been reading more. And speaking of reading:
• Someone told me Jane Austen was their favorite author and highly recommended her books to me, when I offered up that I had never read her. The other day at the mall I found a hardcover collection - I believe four of her novels in one book - for $7.99. Bonus! I have muddled my way through Sense and Sensibility and am now in the thick of Pride and Prejudice. I like them. I find them a bit soap opera-ish, but that is neither here nor there. I am starting to think I have poor taste in books. I forced myself to finish an Ayn Rand book recently (the title of which escapes me at this moment) and hated every minute I was reading it. I have yet to finish The Great Gatsby - I got halfway through and have not been able to force myself back into it. I did manage to complete The Catcher in the Rye, but didn't enjoy it all that much. I was much overjoyed the other day to find A Wrinkle In Time at Wal-Mart for less than $5, which I quickly bought, took home, and read cover to cover in one night. I read that for English class in middle school and was in love with it. That and The Hobbit, I read both of those in middle school and was smitten with them.
• Back to Brian - he recently had a phone interview with a manager at the Gulf Breeze store that he says went very well. And then promptly came here for vacation, where he won't be able to find anything out. Hopefully we will hear something soon. And then we can find a place to live and get settled, which we need to do. There are two jobs open - one of them is overnight, which he said he wouldn't mind doing for the experience. I am torn on the thought of him working overnights. Pro: He will be gone, all night. Con: He will be home, all day. And trying to sleep, in the thick of daytime activity. And grumping around the house at the slightest noise. When he's good and asleep, nothing wakes him. But in weird time between sleeping and waking, the slightest noise troubles him. And he will dramatically stomp to wherever the noise is coming from, and ask sarcastically about the necessity of the task producing said noise: "Do you really think that all that dusting is necessary? It's keeping me awake and I need my sleep". That literally happened once, when he was working overnights years and years ago. Maddening. BUT - if he gets his butt back here, I'll gladly deal with whatever for the sake of having my own home.
• Jacelyn is going to be a NIGHTMARE next week. She usually goes through a rough patch, behaviorally, after Brian leaves from a day long visit. This go round, he has been here for a week, and has been with her the whole time. They have been staying up WAAAAAAAY too late, watching movies and playing video games. Tomorrow morning he goes home, and I'm going to have to tread lightly because 1.) she will be missing her daddy, and 2.) she is so far off her schedule that I feel guilty. It's bad. I've been going to bed early, but her and Brian have been staying up past midnight every night. And then waking up around 11am the next day. Trouble. It's going to be a long recovery period. But, I will be with her tomorrow, so that will be OK. She'll have Monday to do whatever, and then on Tuesday, she has a playdate. I'm just going to keep her busy, try and get her back on a schedule, and hope for the best.

That's about it. That's enough, isn't it? I need to get some work done. I need to call my dad and see what he's up to tomorrow and when I can get up with him to give him his father's day gift. Jacelyn picked it out for him. She is a firm believer in the power of pajamas, so that was her gift selection for fathers this year. She got her daddy pajama shorts and a matching shirt, and she picked out the same thing for her Daddoo. He got Larry the Cable Guy pajama shorts and a matching red t-shirt. And we threw a box of Brownies in, too, to sweeten the deal a bit.

Well, I'm out. Hope all is well for everyone!

Geez

It's been a while since I posted. I didn't realize. I'm a blogger slacker.


Jacelyn is out of school, and somewhat enjoying her summer. She misses school, and she misses her friends, and I haven't yet arranged any time to spend with another child, so she's been surrounded by grown-ups, with the exception of a family birthday party last week. I think she's slightly depressed about it. Her routine is out the window - no bedtime, no set getting up time. She's a mess, and it's affecting her in a noticeable way. I think she needs to get back on a routine, and I think I need to get up with some school or girl scout moms about a playdate. She literally seems depressed. Poor thing.

I'm thinking about cutting my hair. I'm very torn about it - I want to, but then I don't. I like the idea of a new cut and actually having a hair style, but I'm concerned about the maintenance. I'm afraid the cut I want will not look good on me. And what I'm looking at is short. I would be going from long hair that falls to my lower back to hair above my ears. Big, big change. I'm terribly nervous. I don't know if I'm feminine enough to pull off a short haircut. I don't know if I'm confident enough to pull off a short haircut. I mean, all I ever do now is clip my long hair up in a bun for work or back in a ponytail at home, so it's not like my face isn't front and center now. But I'm very freaked out. My long hair is super low maintenance - wash it, pull it back, go. Zero primp time. However, that shows, too. Isn't it about time, as I'm knocking on thirty, that I spent a little time on my appearance? I suppose I can't go through my entire life counting on my sparkling personality to win people over. I have less than stellar skin, however, and a mouthful of charmingly crooked teeth (that I am very superstitious about in regards to my trumpet playing, BTW), and wouldn't short hair just highlight my considerable facial flaws? My big nose with the smeary freckle. The fact that I am, as my sister delights in pointing out, covered in moles. My uneven eyes. But again, since I always wear my hair pulled tightly back, all those are already on display. I want a funky haircut. Something that I can pomade. I just don't know what I want to do. I'll keep thinking about it.

I'm going to get to work now. There's a lot of stuff going on right now in my world, but none of it that I can really get into right now. Bombshell type of stuff. Makes me tired thinking about it. I'll talk to you all soon! And Teresa, I love you and miss you and hope you're doing well!

Update!

Yeah, I'm still tired.

Jacelyn had a fabulous field trip yesterday, to meet the Blue Angel pilots still in town, have her class picture taken with one of the planes, receive a signed certificate naming her an 'Honorary Naval Aviator', and have lunch at a 'gazoo' (to the rest of us, a gazebo). Her teacher aide told me what they did, and how much fun they had, and how fabulous it was. Then Jacelyn gets in the car, and I asked her, "How was it?" she answered: "Fun". "What did you do?" I asked her. "Nothing, I don't really remember". What? They got to sit in the planes and put on the helmets and talk to each other with the communicator thingies, something that I, as an almost thirty year old woman, would be excited to do, and you can't remember? The child is wicked, I'm telling you people. There's something not right about that girl. I'm going to check her for strange birthmarks when I get her home.

Big girl scout thing tonight, end of year celebration for all the troops in our cluster. It will be short for Jacelyn and I, since she's not bridging to Brownies. She will get recognized, get the rest of her patches (which I will then add to the stack of patches waiting to be sewn), and then we're out. Not trying to be rude, but it was made very clear that the cake is only for the girls moving up. Well, five year olds, or maybe just my five year old but I doubt it, don't appreciate the idea that there is cake and they cannot have some, so I plan on leaving before it becomes an issue. In my defense, leaving early was suggested by the troop leader. And I always listen to my troop leader.

I gotta be hoppin. Talk to you all later. Hope Jen is having a good, safe time in NO.

Woe

I'm tired. I worked all day yesterday, worked a recital last night. Had to stop by Wal-Mart to get some stuff to make brownies for Jacelyn's school festival today. When I was getting out of the car at the store I saw another school mom leaving. She stopped and said hello; I asked her what she was doing and she said, "Getting crap to make brownies". Mmm-hmm. Yep. I felt her pain. And today, I work, and then tonight I am on the cleanup crew at school. 6:45 until whenever. Sigh. I have earned a peaceful, lazy mother's day. At least there will be beer tonight. Ostensibly for the runners at the 5K, but also for the cleanup crew.

Brian is in town. Or at least, he better be by now. He promised Jacelyn he would take her to her school for the festival today, and she has been so excited about it. He was supposed to come in late last night, and when I got up this morning and discovered he wasn't there yet, I was livid. It was 6:30 AM, and I was tired and cranky. I noticed he wasn't in bed, and then started checking out the other places in the house he likes to sleep. Every empty couch and bed just made me angrier. I called his cell phone and left a message, a not-very-nice message, about doing what he says he is going to do, about not disappointing his daughter, about having the courtesy to call someone, anyone. I shouldn't make any pre-coffee phone calls, I'm just too much of a grumpy bear first thing in the morning.

He called back about twenty minutes later, understandably on the defensive. I told him if he's too tired to drive, that's fine, please don't drive if he's too tired, but call somebody. He answered mysteriously, "But I don't know that I'm going to sleep; it just happens". Doesn't he have to sit or lay down first? And if he sits or lays down and realizes he feels sleepy, couldn't he call? Or does he just collapse on the floor? I asked him that, and he did not appreciate the sarcasm. I'm the one that has to make alternate arrangements, all before work, if he doesn't show up. What if his mother hadn't been home? Michelle and Joe are visiting family, they weren't available to watch Jacelyn. I don't want him to make the trip if he's sleepy, but he could make a phone call. Enough of that.

Yesterday Jacelyn's class had a mother's day tea. At 8AM all of us mothers (and a couple of grandmothers) dutifully lined up outside their classroom, waiting for them to let us in. The door opened and our sweet little children walked us to our seat (their tiny chair at their tiny table - very amusing). We had a menu (marvelous muffins, delightful doughnuts, terrific tea, outrageous orange juice, very cute), and we placed our order with our kid, who then brought us our food and drink choices. After snacks, the class performed some musical numbers, complete with dancing. We got a gift (a collage'd doorknob hanger) and one of those silhouette cutout things. It was very, very cute and lots of fun. I possibly made arrangements for Jacelyn to take ballet next school year with a friend from her class, made tentative plans to meet one of the moms for coffee when the new coffee place on Navy Blvd. opens, and joked about Jacelyn's banged-up head with the PE teacher, whose son is also in Jacelyn's class. She fell on the wooden steps at the playground Thursday and has an enormous goose-egg on her forehead and a faint black eye. The teacher was telling me how thick Jacelyn's incident file is (way thicker than anyone else's), and the PE teacher told Jacelyn she was going to check the playground equipment for dents. There were some helmet jokes, too. All in good fun, and Jacelyn has a good sense of humor about it. "I just fall down sometimes" she would explain. Poor baby. The Tucker genetics strike again.

The school year is winding down. Jacelyn has a field trip this Thursday, something on base involving the Blue Angels. The following week they have Field Day on Thursday, and then Friday is the last day of school. Yikes! Her first year of school will be behind her. Holy mackerel, I can't believe it. Then on to K5, which she is terribly excited about. K5 students get 15 minutes of homework every night except Friday, and she is terribly excited about that, too. I will have to remind her of that later, when she hates homework. She says she needs a desk in her room, so she will have a place to do her homework. She's a funny girl.

That's about it. Brian may be back before Jacelyn starts school again, which I am terribly excited about. In some ways. Mostly in the not-living-with-my-in-laws-anymore way. We've been discussing housing - rent or buy? We settled on rent. For a myriad of reasons, we are not ready to buy right now. House or apartment? HOUSE. He was seriously looking at apartments, but I think I have him talked out of it. I'll keep you posted.