Hippy Chick

I am quickly outgrowing all my maternity shorts. And I have dresses that I would wear, but, I have this problem with my hips. My core muscles never got properly rebuilt after having Blur, so they're weakened and not doing their jobs now. They aren't holding my bones in place properly. And I have no one to blame but myself and yes, I blame the spawn because I can. And it's true. He's part of the reason why my femur slips out of the hip socket and pinches on my sciatic nerve with a direct shot. OW is the nice word for it.
I'm back to binding my hips with that post-surgical binder a friend gave me last pregnancy for the SPD (symphasis pubis dysfunction). I'm not having as much difficulty with that right now unless my hips are misaligned. What I *am* having problems with is the sciatic/femur/hip intersection. And there is only so much the chiropractor can do for me. I'm working on what I can to keep my mobility and learning how to more efficiently get myself safely on my feet first thing in the morning, and with minimal pain.
And then, there's this fun trick to get myself in and out of the mom-bus:

I don't have running boards to help me step up or down into the van, and it's a total crap shoot as to when and how my hip will revolt, and what will cause it to do so. One side is the more problematic, I think because that's the side with the partially sacralized L5 vertebrae. So, I'm trying to remember to use the other side to do the leg-foisting of things to scoot and turn me in the seat. And it's not my dominant side, so that makes it even more fun for me. I'm down to 7 weeks till my due date, and I can't say I'm looking forward to the physical challenges this is going to present.

Originality and Humor

When questioning the fertility and family size of folks who have more than 2.8 children, you are encouraged to avoid the same. trite. comments. every. single. body. else. has. used. before. you.

Seriously. It's lame. We live in a circus of our own, with our own brands of chaos. If you're going to waste our time with the same junk as everyone else, save your breath. It takes a lot to entertain us, given our own spawned clowns and elephants. It's the one common vent amongst parents of larger sized families.

The family of four kids I have doesn't really feel that large to me. But, I got lots of crap when I was pregnant with Blur. So you can imagine why I felt a need to just keep this fifth one off the radar completely. I was mentally and emotionally starting to come around to the idea of surprise #5, and then my husband outed me on Facebook with a post of an ultrasound picture. He missed the memo on my non-online-disclosure decision. I'd intentionally kept it off my primary page, and only shared in closed groups and private messages where I knew I'd have supportive, or at least funny, commentary.

And in that 21 week scan, we learned this baby had bilateral cysts on the choroid plexus. It's a normal variant, provided there are no other variants like the long bones being short. Thankfully the long bones were measuring normally, if not a week ahead of dates. (It explains the incessant craving for dairy, there was some bone growth & ossification happening.) So we had to do a follow up today. The cysts remedied themselves. The fluid was apparently just extra buildup in some hormonal surge and extra time was needed to reabsorb it. I don't have to go back to get that monitored. Then there's the issue of my "advanced maternal age" prompting things like needing a fetal echo done. Yep, heart is fine too. Everything is where it should be and functioning properly and well.

Since my husband outed me, I figured I'd post my own picture from today's scan. Apparently, I'm not stalker-worthy material and some folks were unaware of the story, and that surprised a few more folks. And then visibly, the belly is winning the race now, and it's darn near impossible to hide the belly, unless I don one of Omar-the-tentmaker's frocks. So, I'm getting comments in person too.

Here, let me just answer all the questions and save folks the trouble of asking. I want to spare you the trouble, and also spare you the dirty looks you'll get, plus the tone of voice, and sharp responses of which I'm capable of providing. Because like I said: It's lame, and it does nothing to entertain me. And it's just not funny. I'm easily amused, but the same questions just don't do it for me. Step up your game already. Be original and humorous. Give me something I haven't already heard.

Are you ready for it? Here goes:

1. Yes, we know what causes it. We've had 21 years of practice. We're damn good at it. We like it. We're married to each other, so we're SUPPOSED to be doing it with each other, not someone else. It's not wrong to actually LIKE your spouse. We've worked a lot of years to get where we are, and we like where we are. Don't be jealous that you can't get in on our party, ok? Just go get your own.

2. Yes, we have tv, cable, dvd's, etc and we utilize them. We actually have multiples of each. Oh, ANNNND we have computers with internet access, plus smartphones. We have friends. We have access to entertainment. And we have access to each other - you know like I said up  there^ in that spousal thing.

3. Yes, *I* am Catholic, but my husband is not. Our inter-faith marriage is always a work in progress, and we don't follow any one strict tenet versus another. Ours is an interesting dance of sorts, melded together the last 21 years with a lot of compromise after a lot of trial and error. Apparently, I'm a better Catholic than I thought I was, though. And apparently, I'm the kind of Catholic girl the Southern Baptist boys like. Take that as you will.

4. Yes, we've heard of birth control, and condoms, and at some points, we HAVE utilized a variety of all of them. I don't have to share this topic with anyone outside of my husband, I am not going to share the details of why, how, etc of what we do in that regard. I don't say a word about your decision to do permanent sterilization, hormonal birth control, barrier methods, etc. Be respectful of what we do, just like I'm respectful of what you do. In short, I stay out of your uterus, you stay out of mine.

5. Yes, everything OBVIOUSLY functions just normally, nothing is broken, so please tell me what is there to fix?

6. Yes, I have my hands full. I have a head and heart full too. The van is full. The house is full. The garage is full too. Our lives are full. How is yours? Is it full of good stuff or just junk and drama and crap?
There are people who completely ache and pay lots of money to ATTEMPT to even get a tenth of what we have. I'm truly and completely blessed, while my heart breaks for those who long for the simplest part of my life, and some may never have it. Don't tell me the obvious, because somewhere in earshot of your comment is someone else who you're insulting in the opposite manner, by reminding them of their empty hearts and arms. And there are those who have suffered the losses of 4, 5, even 8, or 12, or more babies and pregnancies. They are so grateful to have a baby make it into this world, while forever mourning the loss of those who grew wings before seeing light of day. They happily bring as many into this world as they humanly can. It hurts and it stings and it drives the knives deeper, while you twist them. Do you still feel brilliant saying that one?

7.  No, I don't know how YOU do it with just one, or two. Seriously, I need balance in my life, and I need my own interests and hobbies. I don't know how you can helicopter- and lawnmower-parent a completely normal child who has zero no neuro-challenges and come out the other side with your dignity and sanity intact, or theirs for that matter. I delegate stuff to the kids to do, as they become independent and capable enough to handle things. I've blogged about that before. Simply put, it's my job to create independent people who can function outside of me, and handle the hiccups of life. I have my own interests because one day those buggers will fly the nest and I don't want to be that mother-in-law that gets ranted about on the internet. I want my children and their families to feel like I respect their adulthood, and parenthood, and I will do my best to allow that by knowing my place in their world and not encroaching where I do not belong. I blessedly have a fair selection of wise in-laws who may not agree with how we do things, but they know it's not their family or household.

8.  No, I didn't realize that we didn't need to have any more kids. Thank you for telling me that. I didn't realize I was still 6, and asking for a second dessert an hour before bedtime. Last I checked, we are well beyond age 18, and still married to the same person after all these years. If I have my wits about me, we have kids who are 20 and almost 19. So unless there's some strange science or miracle, I think we are qualified to decide what my husband and I need, or don't need. I think your words simply speak of your own insecurities, and lack of time spent with us and getting to know us sufficiently. We are raising our kids in a manner that rivals most any other way modern parents do nowadays, and we've got one who was trained for management at his job as soon as he graduated high school, and another about to head off to MCRD Parris Island for boot camp. The Marines don't take *just* anybody. Our oldest daughter has life skills her peers can't fathom, and a perspective they won't achieve till they're much older. Our preschooler is articulate, funny, well-adjusted and capable of handling things kids her age still have a tantrum over happening, and she's fiercely independent. But they're still capable of being kids. We haven't robbed them of anything. We've sacrificed our own self-serving desires to give them what they need. We have indulged in some things, because we need balance and they need to see us doing our own thing, chasing our own goals and dreams, and they need to see us sacrifice for the greater good or to achieve those goals. Despite the fact that I'm running headlong toward 40, and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, either.

9. Yes, they were all surprises. No, we didn't plan or try for any of them. They were all not in our radar at the times they appeared on it, and now we can't imagine that radar without them there. Then they brought friends to the party, who we mistreat just the same as we do our own. I have birthed and borrowed children, and never imagined this many people would call me Mom. I'm just glad I didn't have to change all of THEIR diapers, or potty train them.

10.  No, we don't know if we're done yet. We thought we were done with the last 5. No, we don't know if we'll have any more. Every time we have thought "done" and laid plans of our own, another mini human comes along and mucks up the plans. But it's cool. We make pretty babies with brains and a sense of humor. And they think it's pretty neat that mom & dad ride motorcycles. Well, dad does, mom's just good at dropping them and then getting pregnant again.
One other side note about the variations of these questions: Again, when you're asking a parent of one, or ten, about the number of kids, you're insulting them. And the ones who only have one or two who like previously mentioned, utterly ACHE for more kids and can't attain that are once again stabbed by your words. Why must you be so intrusive? Don't be offended if one of us snaps back with "Why? were you looking to hire me as your surrogate, because I don't know if I'm the one you want doing that. I might not want to give up a child to be raised by twits like you."

11.  No, I'm not easily offended. I married a Marine and had a bunch of children with him. When you have that combination, you recognize when God laughs at you (in my case, it's almost daily since the early 1990s), and you learn to live by that other Marine motto: Semper Gumby. If you think you can offend me, you can, but it requires extreme stupidity, lack of consideration and forethought, no sense of humor, and downright intrusive and demeaning foolishness. I am not sure you want to test the mettle of this Feisty Irish Wench. Some of the things slung at me verbally by strangers, meant to offend, really didn't do that. I've survived a number of things, including two teens at once - and one was a daily test of my faith and ovarian fortitude. I have reasonably thick skin, and some of you will be lucky I don't have him with me when you open your mouth.

So, please, I absolutely encourage you to get creative when you see me or my larger-family cohorts. Ask us something we have NOT already been asked. Or for poops n giggles, maybe say something encouraging to the mom whose day is shot because of that series of wackadoodle events instead of "well you chose to have that many". Yep, we ultimately did. Someone has to combat the stupidity of the world, and it may as well be us, because YOU are sucking at it.

Anyone smell smoke?

Dad scared us with some elderly electrolyte losses that were looking like a stroke...Older sis called me saying she was worried about dad...nevermind our youngest sister LIVES THERE with him. SO I had to dispatch 2 youngest kids to check on dad and get him back in shape. Lord knows I'm in no condition to go running across town to rescue him. Meanwhile I called the Oldest Sis who's having some minor surgery in the morning, and left a message for her...gah, I hope she doesn't stress out about him when she really needs to be taking care of herself. It turns out Dad was volunteering, as his usual Thursday fun, at the bread mission today in the heat. Then his cheapskate self refuses to turn on any ceiling fans or the window AC units so he can save electricity, so his house was NINTEY freaking degrees INSIDE when it was 83 degrees on the OUTSIDE. He claims it's comfortable. Stubborn ass mule. I call BS! He's had "three gallons" of water, and enough food, but he's old and his potassium, sodium etc were out of whack and Aunt R the nurse helped us get him squared away. She was fairly spot on that his electrolyte balance was anything but balanced. She said that too much water actually flushes out the electrolytes, and dad is just too much a cheapskate to buy gatorade. And he's drinking too much coffee.
I swear if it's not my 16 year old son stressing me out, it's my 82 year old father. Attention whores. Can't let me be the focus just a few months? Geeez.

The oven is still baking a baby, but it's baking past the due date. Shouldn't there be some kind of alarm that sounds when something overbakes? I mean when I use the oven and something's been in there too long, there is a smell of smoke, and then a noisy alarm sounds to tell me I got stupid and distracted, and I need to go take the stuff out of the oven. Baby-bakers don't come with such equipment in the womb.

Well if she's not done baking by the weekend, she's getting evicted from the oven Monday. The heat source is needed for other things too and she just can't be hogging it for herself. I finished my last round of service calls for the time being, and walked all week (yay for hips popping back into place last month!) in hopes of helping Thumper find the exit. We'll see if it helps.

God's just teaching me patience. It doesn't take rocket surgery to know that.

Shopping and Still Baking

Thumper has made herself very cozy in there, and has shown no interest in leaving.
Went to my 40 week appointment and no change, still baking a baby, nothing exciting. She does have an eviction notice for the 28th if she's not out by then. She's apparently got a self imposed lockdown for herself but there's an end date in sight. Plus I have 6 service calls and a reset, and Devildog has inventory at work this week. Noooo, there's nothing going on that makes us too busy to be worrying about having a baby or anything. None. What. So. Ever.

My camera has impeccable timing and it crapped out on me a few weeks ago. I borrowed my sister's for the time being but it's 3 megapixels, my old one was 6. It's better than nothing so I accepted her generosity. I have my eye slated on a Nikon model that is in budget and has the SD memory card and AA battery requirements I need. Don't roll your eyes about the battery thing...I have a bunch of AA rechargables, and if I absolutely have to, I can get AA batteries at the dollar store in a pinch as needed. I'm not tied to a certain charger cord or a computer to charge the thing. When you have 4 kids, and at least one who inevitably move your belongings, a charger cord is one less thing for them to move on you. AA batteries ... common stuff and kids can't get all evil genius on you and hide EVERY last AA battery on earth from your reach or sight.

The end is near, yet out of reach

I am now at that 39 week point. If you've had children, you may relate or even remember...the waiting game. I feel like I did 4 years ago when Mom was on her deathbed and it was a matter of time. Except instead of running to say goodbye to someone, I'll be running to beat an unknown time on the clock to get to a baby-catcher before the baby makes her escape. I'm really really uncomfortable almost 24 hours a day. The physics seem to defy logic and explanation, but I will simply leave it at "stick a fork in me, I'm so done".
I've been an unwilling participant losing the game of Fetal Tetris.
My bladder crapped out on me back in May and has continuously been saying "piss on ya" since then.
This baby has successfully made me stupider than I was before. I'm just thankful I had a larger than average number of active and functioning brain cells when I started my family 16 years ago-well 17 years when you count the conception and gestation. I just hope that as dumb as I've become, this baby girl is an absolute genius stemming from her unadulterated theft of my cognition.
I'm moody, whiny, sullen, mean, evol, cranky, and otherwise like any other teenager in the world - especially when things don't go the way I expect or want. I've actually taken to hiding in my room to avoid spilling my vile mood on others. It doesn't work, because others seek me out and dare enter my room where the vile drips from the bed and stains the carpet. Watch your step in there, I can't get you up off the floor if you slip. I need a forklift myself as it is.

Last week at my doctor's appointment, she asked my sentiments about induction. I told her that I wasn't opposed to it, but felt it was unnecessary in my case and I'd like to wait. She said they don't like to do it till 39 weeks and prefer to see some kind of sign that mom's body is amenable to getting a baby out of her person.
I wagered a guess bout my progress of the baby-exit region, and the doctor confirmed my guess. She then said "we'd like to see more progress than that if we decide to induce you anyway."
At my next appointment the conversation will be revisited and I'm inclined to asking in return "Is NOW a good time for you?"

I did a LOT of walking at work, and shopping this past week. I hope that provided some gains in getting Thumper to exit. I scored some good deals and those are some of the highlights for me. At church Sunday, someone anonymously left me a BIG stack of diapers. It wasn't so much the tangible gift that made my weekend, as the fact that there are people who just love me and want to share with me. It's rather humbling.

I whine and moan way too much. I know that, and make no excuses for it. I try to find humor in things because otherwise I'd whine and moan just that much more anyway. I may as well entertain people out of my unpleasant happenings and experiences. So I guess my entertainment endears me to others or something and as a result, we've been blessed to not have to buy much of anything for Thumper. It was like that for Clone's arrival too. Most of the money out of pocket I've spent during this pregnancy has been for me on maternity and nursing stuff. With both girls, I've not had to buy much of anything. Friends and relatives have blessed me with what was needed, and my girl clothing purchases have been minimal. I'm sure we'll make up for this in their teen years, but by then their big brothers will be adults. And as I keep trying to look forward and count my blessings while painting silver on my thorns, I can't help but keep thinking and saying...

Just stick a fork in me, I'm done. Done waddling, sharing my person, making pit stops every 4 minutes, sleeping in a nest of pillows, being on a first name basis with Tums, and wondering just what exactly is leaking from where.

Anniversary during Open Season

I'm still here. I'm still pregnant. I'm sadly absolutely useless to my friend Persnickety when she really needs help, and I forever feel guilty about that because I owe her some favors like big time.
And from what I can tell, being pregnant makes it open season to lots of people.
Apparently some people were COMPLETELY unaware that I was growing a human. Those that know me, know my kids have all been hiders and sit on my back till they run out of room and have no choice but to make their presence known to the rest of the viewing public. I bet you're asking how that is even possible considering the expanding form (my facebook friends can see the progression since January). Well the thing is, at work, if I can use the fart cart I do. If any store has it, I use it. So me sitting on a cart kind of hides the already hide-y baby belly that is there.
What? You mean just growing a human can't possibly be that arduous? I even got asked by an old man at the grocery store "what's your disability that you have to use the cart?" I told him that I was growing a human and she was doing things to my body he couldn't imagine and walking was damn near impossible for me right now. He then moved on to questioning why I was buying whole milk instead of just a box of powdered and putting water in it because it was just the same. He's lucky my dad is his age and I understand the history of these Depression Era thinkers, and I didn't snap his hairy ears off his head. Thanks Dad for teaching me to respect my elders, too bad the lesson wasn't reciprocative for the elders to respect the youngers.
For the past month and a half or so, walking has been not only difficult or at times impossible, but just moving was painful. After talking to a couple other preggos on my online board for other September due dates, I diagnosed myself with this thing called SPD or symphasis pubis dysfunction. Short story of it all, given my history of pelvic girdle injuries and the associated misalignment, plus the weight of a parasitic human and her warm, watery habitat, plus preggo hormone relaxin, equals one really over-stretched ligament/tendon between my pubic bones.
So that pretty much explains the horrid sciatic pain that prevented me from moving. I had some days better than others, but there were plenty of days I just wanted to cry from it - the pain and the frustration. One of my OBs suggested compression on my hips and I consider her a total God-send for suggesting it. While it didn't make the pain go away, it helped tremendously. It helped push the bones closer so the overstretched ligament wasn't getting away with shearing off the bone. The general recommendation that came from the other OB (who I prefer not to see but that's another rant elsewhere) was for physical therapy. I can only guess this guy thinks chiropractors are quacks or something. Not even going there, just praying that if I don't change providers this far into the human growth process, that this particular scientifically degreed individual does not do the baby catching. However, I disagree with him and started calling chiros on my insurance. The ones I called and that came recommended by others were hesitant to take me on as a patient this far into the game without my having prior chiro care. Understandable and I'm not going to fault them. I get it. I knew the problem I was having was due to misalignment, and I could FEEL as much when I moved certain ways in my attempts to alleviate things myself. I will just go to a chiro postpartum and get myself realigned as the case merits. I must have moved in a good way a couple weeks ago because after stretching a direction I hadn't tried before, something in the pelvic region moved and popped a bit. The next morning I was rolling over to get out of bed and somehow managed to get my hips to pop (and it was not painful- it was actually relieving!) and I have been able to walk again relatively pain free since. I do have to mind how I move, and how long I'm on my feet etc. However it's been a much welcomed break from the literal pain in my butt I had for many weeks. I prayed daily to St Gianna for help getting through that agony.

My nesting energy has been spent working, so I have been completely useless at home. The house has puked on itself as we try to get ready for Thumper's arrival. Devildog is the one that got the Clone's bedroom ready to accommodate another human of sisterly kind. Persnickety and another friend gave me enough clothing and linens that this baby is dressed till Kindergarten and I am NOT exaggerating. At that point we still have Clone's stuff, and I'm sure others will pass on the wealth later as needed. Here I was giving stuff to Clone's old daycare, the women's shelter thrift shop, and others I knew personally that could make use of things as Clone no longer needed or used them. Silly me, should've known another human would appear huh?

"When are you due?"
-September.

"WHAT? No way! You don't look that far along/that pregnant/pregnant at all"
-um, thanks? I sure as hell FEEL every bit as pregnant as I really am. Waddling since May, Devildog called me ducky. It's now my answer when someone asks "how are you?" They're not paying attention and think I say "yucky". Here's a q-tip, clear the wax.

"Don't you know what causes that?"
- YES! We're good at it, and we've had 17 years of practice! (Happy Anniversary of our First Date, my baby daddy!)

"How many is this?"
-This is baby #4, girl #2. Teams are tied.

"How old are your other kids?"
-RW is 16, Beast will be 15 two weeks after I'm due, and Clone is 7.

"Oh WOW, you spaced them apart didn't you?"
-Well they were all surprises and we didn't expect the timing or spacing, but the bonus is built in babysitters and helpers, and the older ones are self-sufficient enough that if I am unable to do something, any of them can do it.
(and yes, even the Clone can do her own laundry, take a shower, dress herself, get her own PB&J sandwich, salad, yogurt, drink or almost any number of things. I am big on kids learning basic life skills so I can go back to being a slacker mom. I robbed myself of my adolescent years having RW in high school and Beast right after I graduated.)

"Well are you or your husband going to get fixed?"
-I didn't realize anything was broken, nor did I realize Devildog and I were of canine variety. Can someone hand me a towel, my tongue is bleeding from biting it so I don't ask people if they're going to get the rectal craniotomy reversed.

All hoped up and nothing accomplished

I swear I had blog fodder. It's written in my datebook, on the pages of the calendar from about 2 weeks ago. I'd hoped to have it regurgitated to you by now. I may have lost the mo required to post it, but we'll see soon enough.
It's at that point I'm going to lose my ever loving mind. Near-end of this pregnancy. End of summer. School isn't in session yet. Resets are about to start at work. I don't know if my boss has someone to cover the stores I've asked to be taken out of as I reduce my workload before Thumper arrives. Devildog works this crazy stupidity-inducing shift. Kids are stir crazy. Devildog finds something to do away from home on every one of his days off because quite honestly even I don't want to be here. The house has vomited all over itself. Between a friend BL and Persnickety, Thumper will need for nothing, and be well dressed to boot. I mean I even have a big bag of shoes for Pete's sake.
I hoped to make progress with this mess of a shoebox before mid-August, so I could just focus on the next few weeks at work, and getting the kids ready for school. So like a full on ADD brain, I start hopping around from project to project and never finishing any of them. Start working in Clone's room, fizzle out because I want the crib assembled so I can put baby stuff in it to get it out of the way for now. Well...do we use Clone's Crib4Life, or do we take someone up on their offer to give us their crib they no longer need? Since I have this butt load of baby stuff, I need to sort it by size, wash it, and wait...
Where are we going to put the baby's clothes, because cardboard boxes just are not going to work even though I have TONS of them. I have this dresser I scored from the curb, and Clone staked her claim on it, down to the wood stain color she wanted, so Thumper can use the shorter longer dresser (which comes in very handy as a changing station with one of those contoured pad things on it. This was all her idea, so I'm just going to let her think that she came up with it first. I'd already been thinking about it but was trying to tread carefully for fear of catching Clone on a "Thumper-can-just-sleep-in-the-living-room-on-the-futon" kind of days. Anyway, Devildog tossed out the last spitfull of paint remover some time ago (against my better judgement) and I lack the proper scraping or sanding tools to get through 8 layers of paint still in the nooks and crannies of this dresser. I'm mangling woodwork at this point with a razor blade, but I also don't care anymore. I just need this crap done. I can't do this work in the house, it's too cramped and makes a huge mess with the Ryobi rotary tool (think "dremel"), and sandpaper, and scraping of paint. I have almost all of it done but this project was easier when it was still cold outside versus the "hades on your doorstep" temperatures we get in August. As soon as I can stain that dresser, it's getting done, come hell or high water (please Lord, not BROKEN water-yet at least..or contractions either).
I've pulled out more work for myself than I can manage in a short time, and at this point, I just don't care anymore. Except, I still need a place to put this human who likes to party under my ribcage at varying hours of the day and night - most notably 1 and 2 in the morning. Oh yes, and she has a penchant for giving me heartburn at the most *opportune* times too. She's gotta stay put a little longer though, and hopefully in the time I have left before she exits the oven, I can make a sizable dent in the mess. I can deal with laundry later. However, right now, I need to get the stuff my house puked on itself cleaned up without losing my mind. My August calendar is chock full of other things that are going to physically wear me out as it is.
I'm not even going to start on the eminent danger the computer is in of dying for lack of sufficient RAM (working on that), the annoyance of the children and Devildog's schedule, and the other family drama of sheer stupidity that is swirling around me. Nor will I whack my head on the brick wall that is Devildog refusing to even look at baby clothes because he just isn't ready. Can you see my eyeroll? It's so far back that I really can see what the kids are doing behind me. God love my husband, he's apparently STILL shocked some near 30 weeks later, despite the visible evidence of another human's presence inside my own.
So, all I've accomplished is a bigger mess, a lot of grand plans of marvelous theory, and annoying my ENTIRE household with my insane ADD nesting. This is nothing like I'd hoped it would be at this point in time. nothing.

Now...if you'll excuse me, I *KNOW* I saw a waiter somewhere around here with a tray of cheese. I saw some that would go wonderfully with my whine....

Babies, Turkey Timers, and Beverages

It's a fairly random post today. There were several chuckle worthy things that came across my path the past couple days. I apologize if I bore you with this but sometimes things in my head simply must escape.
In the cute category we have a friend's Baby R, who is about 6 months old. Sunday was a lovely brunch after church in the hall, and Beast nabbed Baby R. From Mama D., much to the relief of Mama D's arms. Baby R is a peanut but when it's your own peanut, your peanut weighs a lot. Beast had Baby R pretty much the entire hour or so we were there, playing with her, holding her, entertaining her. He's had previous experience with his own baby sister, who has become this 7 year old Clone of mine and isn't so easily entertained anymore. Mama D took the baby away from Beast, so she could make her goodbye rounds. I got a brief visit, and snagged Baby R from mom for a minute while mom said bye to someone else at the table. Beast walked up behind me and Baby R crawled up my shoulder to get to him. Mom nabbed R back and got stopped by someone else, and once again Baby R was reaching for Beast instead. Mama D wanted to kidnap Beast and take him home with her so he could help. I offered RW in his place because RW won't give her the same attitude he gives me. She declined the offer. I was so hoping...

In the not all that entertaining, but noteworthy category, we have the turkey timer:
It's starting to pop out, while I am losing sight of my feet. I'm small by comparison to lots of other people carting another human within. I now weigh the same as I did when I birthed the Beast almost 15 years ago. I'm not yet the same size and weight that I was with Clone. There's still hope for me to not get any bigger than that.
I do feel really badly for one of the teachers at Clone's school. She's due in a couple weeks and the poor woman is just huge. She needs to hire someone to walk around in front of her to hold up her belly. This is also her 4th baby, and 3rd girl. I'm telling you, pregnant over 30 is for the birds, girls are notoriously UNKIND to their mother's body, and the more babies that are baked the earlier things pop and become a pesky challenge.

In the Beverages category - a couple things. First of all, I had the WEIRDEST dream the other day. I only remember that I was sitting in a bar or some sort of gathering, holding a pint-glass full of lager (probably Yuengling) and enjoying the consumption of said beverage. However, I was house-sized pregnant in this dream. I have no clue why this baby has me actually wanting beer on a regular enough basis to call it frequent.
Also RW has been taking weekly (or as close to weekly) profile pictures of me, to chronicle the expansion of my girth. After dinner I asked him to do the belly shot, as we've come to call it. RW said we should just take the picture with me sitting in the chair because "You can't even stand up today." Devildog piped up from the other room to say "You're pregnant, you really shouldn't be drinking."
Has he been in my head while I'm dreaming or something?

The verdict is in now

My 20 week ultrasound was scheduled for Friday the 8th. It was not the least interrupted day either. Clone's ears are still bothering her from spending too much time in the water last weekend, and she was apparently nauseated from it affecting her equilibrium. So, the school called for me to come get her. I allowed myself to get sidetracked and was then running late for my appointment. Add to it a Clone feeling green and ready to hurl yet I had nothing handy. I keep a 2 liter bottle of water in case the mom-bus needs a drink or someone on the side of the road has a car needing a drink. I've been stranded with an overheated car and empty radiator myself so I can relate to those unprepared individuals. With my merchandising job I keep a box cutter in the glove box for those times I forget to put my knife back in my workbag. I had to pull over and cut the top off the 2 liter bottle so she could have a container to collect her gack. Call me a girl scout like that I guess.
So I call the OB's office to let them know I'm going to be late. My Daddy taught me to do that because it's the courteous thing to do, and you wouldn't believe how surprised people are when you actually call and say "I'm running late". Thankfully they had a cancellation at 10:30 and I could still get my ultrasound, and be done in time to wait forever for my OB visit to follow up from the lovely adventure to the ER. So with Devildog and Clone in tow, we got to see the wiggly worm baby, and baby gave up the money shot - 3 lines, no bulging parts. So it's another girl - in case you didn't notice the change in the ticker color from a rainbow to pink.
Then I stopped back at that secondhand store to buy some snap-front onesies. I had a ton of them with Clone and they were an utter godsend if she had a blowout. If you've never changed a baby wearing a regular over-the-head onesie after a blowout diaper...ooh you're in for a treat. Blowouts+regular onesie = You're done for. Then I found a onesie with this design on it and immediately thought of Devildog's buddies. So I got it for the first time the guys get to meet the Stowaway. We'll see how many of them are paying attention.

I'd fire my bladder but I can't transplant it

And I had to go to the ER for such antics, but only because the Dr's office was closed on a Friday afternoon! I was getting an oil change on the mom-bus and just sitting in the waiting area. I kept feeling like something was leaking randomly. It was a bit unnerving. I called my friend and she said I needed to call the doctor to be doubly sure that it wasn't an amniotic leak. The office was closed and the answering service had the nurse call me back. She told me that I should go to the ER to get checked. So I made a round of calls to make sure Clone got picked up from school, let Devildog know where I was heading, a friend to ride with me in case they kept me so she could drive my van home, and then a slew of friends to ask them to pray for us. Off I went, and was pretty much whisked in there and taken care of fairly quickly. Apparently ER's don't really like delivering babies - term or otherwise. Go figure. They did the pH swab test - negative. They did a urinalysis - clear. They did an ultrasound - and because of liability can't tell me ANY thing. She wasn't even allowed to show me the screen. I still have to wait till NEXT Friday the 8th to have the official scan. She did say that the baby has a strong heartbeat and the discharge report says that its around 150 beats per minute. She technically wasn't even allowed to say that but because I was feeling movement she felt safe to say that much. The official diagnosis is "stress incontinence". So basically the magic numbers of Baby #4, and 30-something Mom equals a bladder that said "screw you, and while we're at it, pee on ya too". Basically my bladder has decided it's no longer willing to hold its liquids and seal the exit till otherwise instructed. I get to keep my drawers lined and up the ante on the Kegels.

My poor husband was completely unnerved while he was at work and my friend Persnickety went with me while I went to get checked. I feel foolish for the ordeal, but it's far better to be safe than sorry. Persnickety delivered her 5 year old at 23 weeks and had been leaking fluid for a week prior and didn't realize it. I didn't want to do the same thing, especially since I'm 19 weeks. She also has a heart condition, and teased me saying she wasn't going to let me live down this adventure. Her commentary was "I go to the ER because my heart decides to stop functioning like it's supposed to, and YOU go to the ER because you wet your pants." We've known each other since 9th grade and teasing is nothing new to our friendship. Once again, I live up to the subtitle of my blog - Entertainment at my expense. At least I was able to entertain the ER staff. Nothing like yet another cranky patient to add to their day. I prefer to leave them smirking at the antics and commentary. Besides Persnickety and I hadn't seen each other in a while, so you know me, the drama queen, had to get her "Snick fix" and we needed to feed each other's snark. ANY excuse for a party right? Or in Persnickety's case, a colorful and descriptive blog post.
We're very relieved that it's this *lovely* stuff and not anything worse.

I hate losing stuff

Last week I misplaced my sunglasses again. Come to find out my Clone took them to use outside and left them on the side shelf of the grill for several days while I was tortured by used the old metal rimmed ones again. I can't find my eyeglasses now. I had them last night. I took them off my face, put them in the case where they belong, and now....I have no clue. Unless they're hiding under something I've already searched, like in my workbag (that thing's a vortex like my purse), I may have lost the buggers. I was needing them earlier in the day but didn't want to spend the time to go outside and get them out of the van (logic at work today). They're reading glasses, but sometimes they help the fine tuning for my eyeballs and I don't feel like I have to work so hard to see. It's bad enough I'm over 30. It's bad enough my eyeballs are aging. It's challenging enough being pregnant. It's annoying enough to be hungry all the time, more so than I normally am, and right now I'm really wanting food, but want nothing we have in the house. It's bad enough that I already have a penchant for misplacing things. If it weren't for babies making noise, I might have misplaced them a time or two as well. But good grief, all these things combined are just really enough to push me towards cranky. And we all know a cranky pregnant woman is not what anyone wants. A cranky pregnant woman whose eyeballs are straining just to see her world, much less her computer screen...well it's enough to drive me over the edge. But that side of the edge probably doesn't have food - OR my glasses.

Feeling like an ostrich and an incubator

Yes, it's a strange post title, but the past week I indeed have felt like playing ostrich and avoiding anything outside my immediate world. Things are a just plain out of whack these days and it's making me bonkers. I do have some ample blog fodder to share, but lack the energy to share such things. I know, it's just strange that I don't even have the energy to share blog-worthy happenings with my readers. I haven't been cranky, but back in February I was. Feeling green all the time, and constantly tired made me cranky. My oh so lovely 15 year old can be quoted as saying in a half-joking manner "I don't think you're really pregnant. I just think you're fat with an attitude problem." They've figured out quickly to just leave me alone.
Meanwhile, I have the stowaway being all parasitic and stuff. Lil bugger's bones are ossifying around this time according to the developmental ticker thing that isn't humorous like the one I posted at the top of the page. So that means I'm craving a lot of cheese, and SLEEP. I keep telling my people that growing a human takes a lot of energy. I am guessing that ossifying bones is super energy zapping because it seems like this whole past week, ALL I want to do is sleep. OK, so I do want to get up and clean and do things, but seriously, I lack the extra oomph. I need that extra oomph to get past my small speedbump when I sit on the floor or a low chair. So my nesting urge is screaming, but my body yawns. I was in the bed asleep when Devildog came home from work today. He asked if I was ok - I guess the way I was laying in the bed wasn't usual for me. I told him that I was fine, just super tired, that baby's bones are forming and it's zapping me. He grunted. You know, that code for "yea right"? I said "Hey, growing a human takes lots of energy out of me."

"I think you just tell me that because I can't prove it." See? Oldest isn't 100% exactly like me, he's got his father's snark too.

Crazy Weekend

I am in the middle of a crazy weekend. Devildog worked a funky shift again and I'd like to thank the scheduler for such idiotic hours by dropping my children off on his doorstep for a few days. It's Easter, so we had the egg coloring fun that started and ended way too late in the day. My kitchen was taken over by the kids and I got to play with about 4 eggs whereas the kids argued over who got to color more eggs than the other one. Meanwhile I have the ingredients to California Caviar calling my name to be concocted into something needing a good overnight meld. I was not about to have fuschia and teal egg dye colors getting into the bowl with my contribution to my sister's surprise 50th birthday party. The kids had their work spread out all over my kitchen. Of course if I had REAL counters that actually were counters and not MacGuyvered ones, I would have been able to work over by the sink. Oh wait, nevermind, the Beast was reluctant to do his job and actually WASH the dishes till I fussed at him. So I would have needed to wait longer anyway. Now I'm just at the end of my energy for the day and even though the Beast begged to help me, I told him I just didn't want to direct traffic and share this task. I got edged out of the egg dye fun so I wanted something for myself. This is the child that wants to do culinary stuff too. So now this maternal guilt is bugging me for not letting him help me. I may let him make another batch of it when we get home after the party or something, or maybe in a few days when it isn't QUITE as crazy.
This past week has been uber busy with 4 resets and 4 service calls. However, I've done enough of them, that I have been doing them faster and faster. It sucks for my paycheck but since I just want to get them done and get out of there, it's good for my mental health. I may have broken a company record Thursday by getting the most recent reset done in 2 hours 35 minutes. If nothing else, I broke a personal record and probably a district record. The resets were slated to take six hours, and thankfully my district coordinator came up with a placement chart for the plastic shelf tags that speeds the process up by at least an hour or two. But in all of this, I was really tired and worn out this week. I took lots of breaks so I wouldn't overdo things. I drank plenty of water. And when I went shopping Friday for the groceries I'd need for the weekend, I used the fart cart in all three stores I visited. And I got the "lazy skinny broad" stares from people. I'll also be glad when people stop telling me that I don't LOOK pregnant. Surely I FEEL every bit of it, including what seems to be some pointy feet in some tender internal parts this morning. Oh gee, won't *I* be the life of the party instead of my 50 year old sister.

Bleh

Yep, my vocabulary is so stellar isn't it? I go from "meh" to "bleh" so nicely. I have not had Persnickety nearby to feed my snark. I have not been in the best of moods, so I've been silent for lack of desire to need peppermint anything later. I also have this parasitic stowaway that makes me want to do nothing but eat and sleep (minus the dirty diapers) like a baby would. I really DO want to get stuff done around the house, but I'm stretched thin at work and exhausted by the time I get home. All of THAT work limits what I can physically tolerate doing around the house. This whole being pregnant post-30 is for the birds. It was much much easier the first three go-rounds of this stuff. First of all, I was way more pliable. Today I was squatting down in front of the extra freezer to see what was at the bottom of it. My plan was to get dinner for Sunday defrosting. I couldn't exactly get up easily. I *almost* had to ask one of the teenagers for a hand to get up. They laughed at me. It does wonders for a pregnant woman's ego to be laughed at for the struggle to rise from the floor. I plan to torture them later when I'm truly a beached whale. Hmph.

I guess if you need some more entertainment, you'll need to visit the Crazy Lady.

meh

Been a long week.

Today was a lot of work for me.

I lost cognitive function hours ago.

My lone sentiment at the moment:

-MEH-

Pregnant - and with PMS

It's been one of those weeks for me, which is part of why I haven't been posting much. I have not had anything funny, snarky or even nice to say, so I have been biting my keys. I'd rather do that than need peppermint ones later anyway. The Clone has been cranking out her PMS, and the hormones are apparently contagious. I've warned the penis people of the house repeatedly that it's a crank-fest and just stay on my good side. The first trimester "bleh" has pretty much passed and the second trimester nesting has kicked in full force. My house reflects the fact that I had the first trimester bleh, and it's driving me nuts. My frustration at how little I can accomplish to quell the second trimester nesting instincts is compounding things. I have managed to clean a bunch of junk out of my daughter's closet to make room for baby stuff to go in there. She is not happy that things go in there that aren't hers. However, this 1100 square foot house has literally THREE closets and we need six. Hers is the biggest one, so it gets the most stuff by default. I'm repacking things into boxes I've brought home from work, and tossing the old ratty boxes.
In the good news department this week, I scored a plain exersaucer for $10. Yes, plain. As in, no fifty gazillion toys attached to it that require scrubbing with a toothbrush daily to keep it clean. We're prone to messes here, and simpler to clean means "good idea" here. Plus, my household is overly stimulating for the senses anyway, there is no sense in adding to a baby's (or the MOM'S) overstimulation. Three noisy kids and a baby. I'm first in line for being overstimulated by the chaos.
Second, I scored a Medela Pump In Style motor for $25. For those of you outside the mama-milk circles, this is presumably the 'mack-mamma' of breast pumps. And for you pervs googling that crap, I'm talking about lactating and feeding offspring with the boob-milk, not the hormonal crap you're searching for on the internet. Anyway, it's just the motor that does the pumping, not the tubes, connectors or parts that attach to the milk source, plus it's an older model. I am blessed to have a friend who has the same pump and extra parts that she's offered to send me, and then some.
Third, I found some fabric that said same friend is going to use to make a maternity top for me, along with some others out of fabric she found where she lives. I'm excited because the stuff loaned to me by another friend isn't exactly my style, except the t-shirts. And it's getting more challenging to dress for church because my tops are starting to not fit me in a few places. When I'm done with these clothes, I'll be returning them to the other friend, and passing along the additions I've acquired, thereby increasing and updating her wardrobe for her next pregnancy. I call it the "Circle of Giving", and I'm trying to stay on the good side of the equation here.

Now, if you'll pardon me, I have something needing to be done around here, and hopefully doesn't include yelling at unproductive, uncooperative, teenage boys. One of them wants to get on the computer and do some schoolwork. I just want my house clean. I won't even start ranting about my husband's freakish work schedule that complicates my life these days. I'm grateful that he even HAS a job. Now if I can just get the teenager who is old enough to work, to actually LEAVE the house and FIND a job of his own, it would be tremendously helpful to my sanity. God bless those homeschool parents who actually do the teaching themselves. I am not one such capable parent.

My apologies

I have neglected you a few days. I've been busy, cranky, uncomfortable and short on wit. I have seen some stuff to post over on the Crazy Lady. That requires me to upload stuff from my phone and my camera and quite honestly - I'm just lazy this week. Plus I took the oldest to the dentist. His sugar habit and lack of tooth brushing for lack of leaving the house - EVER- has resulted in an estimate for six thousand dollars in dental work. I told him he needs to get a job to pay for it. On the bright side, I finally got more ink for my printer so I can re-print the mortgage application. I still have not found the first one I printed a month ago, and filled out, but never sent in to the mortgage broker. Devildog and I went grocery shopping. Ouch. It was a big bill, but we're fairly well restocked. I warned the teenagers not to get all food happy and eat everything all at once in celebration. Pregnant person needs food all the time, not this gorge now and starve later because we got too piggy business the teenagers are in the habit of doing. I can keep sufficient snackage in the mom-bus for those hectic days of no time to stop. Now if you'll pardon me, I need to go shower and get the day's pollen off me before I crawl in my bed. If you really want some entertainment, go read Black Heels to Tractor Wheels. That ought to hold you over for a few days till I can get back to "normal". Or at least till I come across something else blog-worthy.

Spring isn't ALL glorious yet

Oh the joys of Spring. Oak Pollen rains down on my entire house, my vehicles and makes its way into my lungs. My neighbor has a 80 year old water oak right on the property line. I love Florida. There's no snow. However, in exchange for freezing temperatures and snow, we have lots and lots of pollen. My allergies are kicking my butt, and I'm more sleep deprived than normal because of it. I was just regaining momentum after dealing with the constant green feeling of early pregnancy. I'm basically relegated to my bed again, and I'd like to make use of the nesting urges that have begun to crop up occasionally. I have a house to pack, because we have a house to buy somewhere. My logic has now moved to "Pack it now, then buy the house, it will be faster and easier to move." I'm sure that by the time we finally buy a house, I'll be too big and whale-looking to do much, or I'll be interrupted every 10 minutes by a needy human. I may as well make use of the 2nd trimester. I'm just a tad shy of that milestone, but I'm feeling less like newly planted, and more like I'm "budding", as in my stuff is growing. I was feeling "human" for a few weeks. Now I'm feeling pregnant. I lost the battle to my waistbands a couple weeks ago. I'm not visibly showing when I'm wearing publicly acceptable clothes. At home, everyone can tell. At lunch last week, my lovely friend Persnickety pointed out that my backside is larger. I knew this already, as demonstrated by the carnage caused by my hips as I walk through the house, knocking over things that were previously minding their own business. Apparently my brain has not registered the additional girth back there. Don't lambaste Persnickety, she was only making an observation and no malice was intended or received. I'll be happy when these malicious allergens stop attacking my lungs and sinuses though. Of course when that happens, I'll be forced to whine and complain about the horrid heat of Summer. "Average temperature of seventy five" my big foot.

My family needs prayers

The devil is throwing sand again. One sister is back in the hospital after a mini-stroke. That whole situation is a long term Series of Unfortunate Events, going way back.
My favorite Aunt R is hitting another financial roadbump, and has to turn in her van. At least she was able to hold out till her daughter had the baby. My Grandmere is 2 weeks older than my Dad and she's frail and hanging on to what she has left.
My father is approaching a year since his gall bladder gangrened and he nearly died, and he's kind of an emotional mess. Honestly he has been a mess since Mom died 3 years ago. But he'll tell you that no matter how many times he walks up and down the aisle at church doing usher duty, he has no pain what so ever. If that wouldn't mess with your head a little, I can't say what would.
My brother filed for divorce. My biggest concern is my niece. I won't go into detail but I have true concerns for her and if I could bring her to live with me during all of this so she doesn't have to be exposed to the chaos, I would. I just know it would be met with resistance and heaven only knows what else. It truly breaks my heart to know a child that has to live through this, and knowing other children live this hell daily.
All this makes me incredibly appreciative to have what I have, surly teenagers and whiny first graders, and unexpected, unplanned, un-everything pregnancy of a fourth child at my current age. I have a husband that respects me and would do anything for me. I have incredible friends in many places that I don't deserve, but they stick around for some reason. I guess I'm entertainment value or something. Meanwhile my Aquarian nature keeps kicking in high gear when it comes to my niece and I have to be careful not to let it get crazy on me.

Do I stink?

What happened? I posted a blog entry a couple days ago and got no comments. Was I too morbid or morose or pensive or what? Was I touting a food joint too loudly? It all started when Devildog watched his daily dose of SportsCenter and the ESPN blurbs of every show surrounding it. They all had their "experts" yammering about how Terrell Owens was released by the Cowboys, a repeat of the Falcons debacle centering around the behavior of the player. As it happens, I randomly stick post-it notes and file cards around my house with interesting quotes that I've collected. In my ADD laden brain, there was a connection between Shakespeare's quote and the news du jour. Plus I had a really yummy lunch and wanted to let people know about something that wasn't negative in this world. Lord knows, people have plenty to whine and complain about, but good grief, can we balance it with the good things going on around us.
I'll leave you to scratch your heads some more and your "*sigh* uh.. yea."