All I'm Saying there's a joke in here somewhere

I'm posting this band in honor of a friend of mine from an online pregnancy community that I belong to. Jamie and I met around the tenth week of our respective pregnancies and quickly noted that we had the same due dates. A lot of you readers were with me as I got to go through the excitement of the first ultrasound and measuring all of Freya's little milestones, getting those good doctor's reports, agonizing over the trivial symptoms of my relatively easy go of things, and now the waiting.

Jamie didn't get the same experience, I am afraid. Shortly after we met, her first ultrasound detected potential problems. She went in for more tests, and it was determined that her daughter had a rare genetic disorder called Trisomy 13. This defect results in developmental abnormalities, including major issues for the heart and brain. The doctors told her that her best-case scenario was that little Keiran Hope (as she and her husband named the baby) might make it a month or so past delivery, but the odds were good that Keiran would not survive delivery. But we all hoped. Jamie received against-the-odds reports from her checkups and was able to feel Keiran's touch from within her own body as the little one moved bumped and rumbled around.

Jamie went into labor on January 26. Sadly, Keiran was stillborn.

Obviously, this has been a hugely difficult experience for Jamie and her husband, but I have been awestruck by how grounded she has remained and how she continues to be an amazing, inspiring person in the teeth of her loss.

For that, we on the pregnancy community have set up a March of Dimes fund in Keiran's name. It just got started this afternoon, and I am thrilled to say it has already generated over $350 to help research and prevent future occurances of developmental defects and premature birth. If you are inspired by Keiran and Jamie's story, please click the blinkie above and help give other little people out there a chance to live. Thanks from both Freya and me.

I was just over on StatCounter, trying to figure out why I keep getting these messages saying I'm nearly out of bandwidth. My personal web designer, Mel indicates that it has something to do with the number of hits over a month. Or something. I pay shower her with gratitude to understand that kind of thing so I don't have to.

Anyway, I checked the recent keyword combinations that have brought people to the page, and I am noticing a disturbing trend: Pat Monahan, lead singer of Train. Yes, they have a new CD coming out and I can't get the new song out of my head. Yes, I am his thoroughly committed (and thoroughly under-utilized) love slave. This isn't even his baby, is how under-utilized I am. But those of you out there who are coming to my site from searches for "Pat Monahan siblings," and "How tall is Pat Monahan," need to back up the train, as it were.

Mine. Claimed. King's X-ed, thank you very much. Don't make me reach through that DSL line and pimp slap you.

Just last night, my husband and I had a conversation that went something like this:

Matt: I still don't quite understand the obsession.

Me: I'm his love monkey, what can I say.

Matt: He's not what you'd call traditionally handsome.

Me: Insult my man one more time and Freya's getting a new baby daddy.

Matt: Let me guess...

Me: And we can afford a whole lot better a lawyer than you can, so you better watch your step.

Somehow I got wrapped up in reading my October 2004 entries as I was trying to figure out what the heck to blog about tonight. I wanted something light, something funny, something not pregnancy related. (Still...pregnant...) Then I lit on a post about my father, which jogged my memory of a recent conversation with him. Quick history: my dad is a wanna-be hypochondriac, and he's getting pretty good at it.

Dad: I have throat cancer.

Me: Why do you think you have throat cancer?

Dad: I have a growth in my mouth.

Me: What did the doctor say?

Dad: He put me on antibiotics.

Me: They're curing cancer with antibiotics now?

Needless to say, it wasn't cancer. It was some random thing and a little amoxycillin cleared it right up. I hope I don't sound tremendously insensitive, but really. My dad is 70, he's in very good health, and he's simply bored out of his skull. Please, Lord, don't let Freya be blogging something similar about me one day. (Or whatever it is those young whippersnappers will be doing in 2045.)

By now you're all aware that we are marking the 20th anniversary of the space shuttle Challenger tragedy. I think that's one of those events where most of us who were alive and living in the U.S. remember where we were when we either saw the incident or heard about it on the news.

My 5th grade class was watching the launch from inside the school library. We were all trying to figure out what the diverging columns of smoke meant, and why we couldn't see the space ship any more. At that point, the junior high science teacher, engaged in a fund-raising mission and targeting 5th graders, barged in the door and said, "Who wants to buy some jerky?" Even then, I knew there was probably a term for a comment so asinine and out of place for the circumstances.

I thought I'd ask the rest of you, where were you when the Challenger was lost?

The doctor's appointment yesterday resulted in an "all quiet" determination. There's been no noticable change over last week, so other than chronologically, I am no closer to delivery than before. Both the bebe' and I are in good health, so it really isn't anything to complain about. Additionally, I'm still a week away from my due date.

So why does hearing that it will be a while yet suck so bad? Because pregnancy has been friggin' hard. I hear people say all the time, "It's easier to take care of them when they're on the inside, as opposed to the outside." True. I have no doubts of that. However, this host is ready for the parasitic invasion to be over. Or at least to be external.

I was recently sent a link to one of those "check your neighborhood for sex offenders" websites. I just input my address information, and it was pretty interesting to see what came up. This is a good one, because you can kind of get an idea of what is around you and where, as opposed to just a general list of addresses that are located in your zip code. Another good thing is that it doesn't just show crimes against children--it shows crimes against adults, as well.

In case you want to check it out: here's the site.

Add yourself to my Frappr map, if you please. Similar to that thingy where you could put a thumbtack to mark your position location on an internet global map, but slightly more interesting.

Via Sherri.

Still pregnant.
Still achy.
Still having Braxton-Hicks contractions.
Still retaining oodles of water.
Still uncomfortable.

Still 10 days before the due date.

Still reading? By the way, Erica is set up to get the labor and delivery phone call from us, so she'll come do a guest post when the big moment arrives. We won't leave ya hangin'!

Your Stripper Song Is

Closer by Nine Inch Nails When you dance, it's a little scary - and a lot sexy.

That really was one of my faves back when I a much bigger partier than I am now. What about the rest of you?

Via Erica.

I had my 38 week appointment this morning with our obstetrician. The good news is that I am finally dilating (1 cm.) and am 60% effaced. For those of you, who like me, said, "Durr?" the OB says she's figuring I've got a couple more weeks to go if left to my own devices.

The bad news is that I am swelling up like a marshmallow in a microwave. (Try it on a paper towel for 15 seconds if you've never done it. Don't fry your eyeballs watching what happens, but watch it.) I'm packing quite a bit of extra water weight around, and that can be a sign of pregnancy-induced hypertension (aka, preeclampsia). I have no other symptoms, and if there were any danger right now, symptoms would be obvious. So I'm basically just supposed to watch it, but if I'm still this puffed up by next week, the OB may want to talk about induction methods. Freya is a full-term baby at this point, so it would be safe enough for her. I'd just rather she come on her own. We'll see, I guess.

I'll try to remember to take a picture of my ankles tomorrow for you all. The swelling has gone down tonight from Matt rubbing them and from being in the bath for the last 45 minutes, but they are truly a spectacle to behold in their glory.

Amazon boxes are the harbinger of imminent baby delivery, I think.

I came home today to a wonderful surprise from Mel, who got us the cutest Lamaze baby toy. It's a little stuffed sun with a rattle and little mirror and squeaker. It attaches to a stroller or even the baby's mobile. It's so cute! Thanks a bunch, Mel!

I have to admit, I am just amazed at how sweet all of you blog friends are. Mel and I have been internet friends for a long time, and it always wows me to make the new friends and see the long-term friendships keep right on going and going. You all are so sweet!

Here's something you maybe shouldn't say in a "Baby Care Basics" class.

Instructor: Anyone know why I have a can of Crisco here with the other baby toiletries?

Casey: Keeps the baby from sticking to the pan?

Turns out you can use it as a massage lotion for the baby. You're not actually supposed to combine it with any kind of cooking method.

Matt just forced me to waddle down the street so that we could take the dogs to the neighborhood green space and they could get a little exercise. Walking is good for me, I know this. It just sucks is all.

Anyway, there was a package on the front step when I came waddling back! Things in Amazon boxes mean good baby stuff lately, so I was very excited to open it and find the bottle feeding set from our baby registry from Jessica, who is another preggo blogger. Jess is one of the few bloggers I have actually met, as she and her husband were in Boise this past summer. We met up for dinner. In the picture below, I am somewhat pregnant--enough to be wearing maternity shorts, but I can't believe how little it shows. I thought I was elephantine at that point. I can't remember for sure, but I think Jess may have been just the eensiest bit pregnant herself at that time. So her turn to be huge is coming right along--she's still cute and little. Thanks very much for the gift, Jess!

Additionally, we made our first trip into Labor & Delivery today. I thought my water had broken! Three alkaline strip tests, both a digital and a speculum exam, and a urinalysis later we found out that nope, we weren't about to have a baby. In fact, I'm still not dilated. Sigh...much ado about nothing, I am afraid.

But I was up until after midnight last night, probably for the first time in years. God, what a crap night! As near as I can figure, I went into false labor. It had been a busy day--my baby shower took place during the afternoon, and it was great. Then I came home and tried to get things organized in the nursery, yadda yadda.

I had been having Braxton-Hicks contractions all day, but then they started with a fair amount of pain in the lower abdomen. I started watching the clock, and they were five minutes apart and lasting for 45 seconds or so. I got up, wandered around the house, drank a glass of water, and they ended up staying with me for two hours before I was able to go to sleep.

So. False labor. I woke up this morning and the baby was even lower than she has been. I had the same contractions for a couple of hours this afternoon. I don't think it means I am much closer to delivery, but lord knows it must mean I'm a little closer, huh?

My next doctor's appointment is on Thursday, so maybe she'll do my exam and say, "Holy cow, it won't be long now!"

...but mostly Claire.

You scored as Claire. You're Claire! You're cute, and everybody likes you - especially Charlie ;) Claire 69% Kate 56% Jin 56% Hurley 56% Locke 56% Sayid 50% Sun 50% Michael 50% Shannon 50% Jack 44% Charlie 44% Sawyer 25% Boone 25% Who is your "Lost" alter ego? created with QuizFarm.com

So. Which one are you? Via Mel.

I just wanted to point out a disturbing trend to all of you. Thanks to the pioneering efforts of Jessica Simpson, we have proven scientifically for once and for all that buffalo wings contain no actual buffalo. This is on account of buffalo not having wings to begin with. Thank you, Dr. Simpson.

However, I'm starting to notice that bison meat isn't the only thing that buffalo wings do not contain. Allow me to direct your attention to Pier 49 Pizza's appetizer menu. The bottom item is buffalo wings. Do those look like wings to you? I've never seen a chicken using its feet to fly.

Kentucky Fried Chicken's new commercials talk about their "100% breast meat" buffalo wings. Never seen a chicken using its tits to fly, either--how about you?

Anyway, I just want to make sure all of you cuisine innocents out there realize what you're getting into nowadays when you go to your favorite eatery and ask for finger-food chicken in very hot sauce. It is more than likely neither a buffalo, nor is it a wing.

I came home today to a package that had arrived in the mail. (The usual contingent of English springer spaniels and a husband also were present, in case you were wondering.)

Inside the package there was the cutest pink fleece swaddling wrap for Freya from our friend Maribeth over at Dackle Princess. It is absolutely going to be one of the first snuggly delights to wrap up our baby girl.

Matt has pointed out that he hopes Freya won't be as obsessive about fleece garments as her mother is...I think he's out of luck until she turns into a teenager and decides anything her mother loves is totally lame.

Thank you so much, Maribeth!

The baby is dropping. That means that either she or my cervix (I guess a combination of both) is lowering and starting the descent toward the birth canal. It doesn't mean labor is imminent, but it does mean that things are progressing. She is now less in my ribs and more in my hips, and boy howdy, this is what my inner monologue sounds like when I am walking: "Don't waddle...don't waddle...don't waddle..."

One of my internet preggo buddies told an especially apropos joke today. What do Eskimos get when they sit on the ice for too long? Polaroids! Yeah, fun part of all that baby weight being much lower in my pelvis. Matt has named my new little friend "Crusty." He's very supportive, let me tell you.

Matt and I went to see King Kong this afternoon. In a word, "enh."

In more than one word, I could take it or leave it. It started out really sloooowly, then once they got on the island there was so much action that it was really hard to keep up. Dinosaurs, giant bugs, more dinosaurs, some of the fugliest natives ever made up for cinema, and then there was the big monkey. There at the end where Kong was up on top of the Empire State building, I kept getting vertigo because here's this hugeass gorilla on top of an extraordinarily tall building, and he's wobbling all over the place. I thought I was about to fall off the damn thing. Also, there's got to be hella wind up there, and I can't understand why Naomi Watts' dress didn't blow up over her head every time she lifted her arms above her waist. Cinema, I guess.

It was really long, the characters were not that endearing, but it was entertaining. I give it a horizontal thumb.

Matt and I went to Meals in Moments this afternoon. It is this really cool business where, for a per-meal fee, you can put together dinner entrees from prepared ingredients, stuff it all into freezer containers (also provided for you), and take home lots of nutritious, tasty meals.

We decided to do it with the baby on the way. I figured 12 entrees that served 6 people each would go a long way toward easing the post-partum workload for both of us.

I've got to tell you, it is a really cool concept. We had bought a girlfriend of mine a gift certificate to the place for her wedding, then made the decision to go ahead and do it ourselves. We all went together and had a great time. And while we haven't cooked and eaten any of the food yet (I'm so hoarding it until the baby is here), I am definitely feeling like it will be well worth the experience from the time and stress saved. I mean, jeez, they supply you with all the fresh ingredients, they have the recipes right there, they give you the containers. All you do is show up, slap the ingredients together, seal the containers, and take them home and shove them in the freezer. How can you beat that?

I always feel like such a pioneer-type of a woman when I know the larder is full.

It was a mistake, families told, after hailing news of miners' survival

· Accusations and violence as 12 confirmed dead
· Father of two in critical condition following ordeal

Goes without saying this is horrible, but the tragedy does deserve a mention.

Tinseltown teen queen Lindsay Lohan has finally 'fessed up to doing drugs — and becoming so bulimic that she couldn't stand the sight of her own skeletal figure.

No shit, Sherlock. Us too.

Pete Townshend Warns iPod Users About Hearing Loss

What?

First ever DIY fertility test for men

I hope they make it cheap, because you know some men will just keep taking it, and taking it, and taking it...

This is Matt's dog, Cody. This is a picture of Cody sitting at the front door with his face pressed against the seam of the door. Why? Because Matt is not here right now.

Like many English springer spaniels, Cody has emotional issues. He is unbelievably attached to Matt. When Matt and I were first dating, there were several occasions where I'd take care of Cody when Matt had to go out of town on business. Cody would get so upset that he wouldn't eat for days on end. He'd just sit there, staring at the door. He's very much a one-person dog.

That is why I call him Codypendant. Just thought I'd share that.

Oh, I should add that last night as I was falling asleep (with Matt out of town), Cody farted. Audible dog farts are a rarity around our house, though they are often smelt. This led my barely waking mind to decide that there was most likely a burglar hiding under the bed, and that said criminal had just passed gas and...um...blown his, uh, cover. Until I came fully awake and realized who the real culprit was, I felt the underbed thief and I were at something of an impasse.

I have to admit something. I know my husband suspects that something is going on, but I can't tell him how bad the problem is.

You see, I am addicted to Spider Solitaire.

I discovered it a few weeks ago, and now I play probably a dozen rounds per day. I am comfortable at the medium-difficulty level, but have ventured into the hard rounds.

The ugly thing is, I am dreaming of playing it. Yes, I'll wake up with the realization that I have been playing round after round in my sleep. I can only see about three stacks of cards at a time, but it is going on endlessly.

The first step is admitting you have a problem, right?