Miguelina

I'm the Rip Van Winkle of Pregnant Women

No, really.  I'm STILL pregnant. I know you've heard this one before, but I've been pregnant since January, and since it is now October, you will forgive me for being a bit repetitive.

I'm scheduled for an induction, but that's still a week away. I'm scheduled for a battery of tests, but those won't happen until the weekend. I'm starting to think that my OBGYN is running some sort of evil experiment where she is testing just how much pregnancy a female body can handle. My bones hurt, that's how heavy this belly is. My back spasms and contractions are so bad at times that we went into the hospital AGAIN...and were promptly sent home with the diagnosis of false labor. But this time they were nice enough to give me a sleeping pill because they couldn't figure out how I was going to get any rest with those contractions.

That was three days ago. I have nothing else to say about that.

October 1

And just like that, it's October.

The pumpkins are out. The spiders are in (I found one inside the baby's carseat -- eek!). It's chilly. Summer came very late, but fall is coming right on time.

Of course, this baby is taking his sweet time. Nothing to report there, other than the usual. I'm exhausted.

And because I know how lucky I am, I'll just leave it at that. I'm tired. And waiting. And doing my best to enjoy fall while I can.

The One Where I Get To Quote Betty Draper

How is it possible that today is September 21? And that the last time I posted was September 9th? If this was a job I'd be FIRED by now. Good thing I'm the boss and I play favorites. Shameless!

So, nothing new to report. I'm inching closer to my due date with nothing to show for it other than my HUGE belly, which causes a commotion so great every time we go out in public that my mild-mannered mother has started growling at strangers. Seriously. I can't walk out in public without having every third person (male or female, young or old) try to engage me in conversation. Add to that the fact that I have two other children, and that I can't walk anymore -- what I do is waddle, in the strictest sense of the word, waddle, and I'm not exaggerating for once, it's the God Honest Truth -- and well, any errand takes me three times as long as it normally would, which I guess is great preparation for the third child, but which is also is getting old fast.

The only semi-interesting thing to happen is that we had a false alarm yesterday -- I thought my water had broken, but I wasn't sure -- and I was having contractions, and they weren't all that bad, but I called the Dr. just in case, and they sent me to the hospital, just in case. Everything went so smoothly and everyone was so cheerful (and let's face it, I'm so READY) that I was just hoping that it would be the day. It was so dreamy, in fact, that the nurse and doctor who was on duty (a man who I'd never seen before in my life) both said that they hoped today would be the day because we seemed like such nice a nice couple.

(In hindsight, it CLEARLY wasn't time -- who is pleasant when giving birth? But it would have been nice.)

Anyways, I'll spare you the details, but once it was finally determined that my bag of waters was still intact and we were all standing around not sure what to do next, I said the only thing that came to mind:

"My water never breaks."

Which, of course, was only funny to my husband and me.

Then we went out for a late lunch at Petit Robert, where we sat outside and pretended we were in Paris. I had a Croque Madame and ice water and my husband had some pork and wine. We argued over baby names and flipped the pages of the same baby name book we've used in all three pregnancies. We came up with the most ridiculous names we could. We got to really have fun with this baby.

Not a bad way to spend a Sunday, now that I think about it.

Everyday Treats: Color of Hope

This is a compensated review from BlogHer and L'Oréal Paris - but the compensation isn't why I agreed to review the Color of Hope collection. No, really. Pinky swear!

Ten years ago, I was a product manager at L’Oréal and that, I admit, is part of the reason why I wanted to be a part of this program. Not because I have a soft spot in my heart for the company (which I do - it was a fabulous place to work) but because I made some of my best friends while working there.

One of my closest friends while at L’Oréal is the reason I’m participating in this program.

READ THE REST OF THIS POST HERE...

Still pregnant. What else is new?

Thing is, when I started writing on the internet I made a conscious decision to make this site about myself and nobody else. I started writing online when I found myself home with my first baby, not quite alone but needing an outlet that would leave more of a permanent record than a phone call or conversation. So I made it about me. Sure, I mention other people -- especially my children -- when it's relevant, it's not like I live in a vacuum, but I choose to tell MY stories. Maybe it's selfish, maybe it's not authentic. I keep reading that a true artist is supposed to mine the lives of the people in their life, but in this place? I choose not to.

I'm 100% fine with that.

Problem is, sometimes I have no stories to tell. The past few weeks are a perfect example of that. I've been majorly (and I mean MAJORLY) pregnant, but I don't have any of the first time mom anxieties to share with you. This is my third pregnancy after all. It's not as much fun to tell you about rearranging the same baby boy clothes I've seen twice before. I guess we could buy new clothes, but really what's the point? I know better by now.

Nesting has also been different this time around. My house is pretty clean (thank goodness), so there are no middle-of-the-night bathroom tile scrubbing episodes to share. The nursery is ready, having just been vacated last week (when my two year-old figured out how to do a flip out of the crib into the extra bed in the nursery -- once my heart stopped palpitating wildly I moved on to training him to sleep in his big boy bed, which is no small feat, but something I'm too tired to talk about right now.) I'd wash the sheets, but the baby will be in a bassinet in our room for the first few weeks anyways, so what's the rush?

The one thing that you could call "nesting" is that once my mom arrived to hang out with us and help us with the baby, I was finally able to tackle all the yard work that has been killing me all summer. I took a huge pair of clippers to our yew hedge, and with the help of my mom trimmed those suckers down. That felt good. Well, it felt good spiritually, but physically it killed my back. Unfortunately, it did nothing to accelerate labor.

Sigh.

(This image is from June. The belly is at least twice as big by now. And growing.)

Everyday Treats: Super WHY!

I had the opportunity to attend a media event for Super WHY! a couple of (or maybe three) weeks ago and I have been remiss in telling you all about it. I don't know why, because we're huge PBS and WGBH fans at this house, as you can probably tell by the picture below:

One thing I can't claim to be is a fan of children's television. Don't get me wrong, my kids watch TV -- how else would I get dinner on the table?

Click here to read the rest of this entry...

A Plumbing Mystery

I was in the shower the other morning trying to wake myself up enough to make some coffee when I heard what I thought was the hum of a ride-on lawnmower. Then I realized it was Sunday -- the one day out of the week that the landscaping trucks don't descend on our street so it couldn't possibly be that -- but it was early and all I could come up with was "huh?"

(Aside: Why don't the neighbors agree to have all yard work done on the same day? Must every outdoor activity be marred with the sound of landscaping crews? We have like 3 weeks of summer left - or rather, summer is already over, if the abundance of scarecrows and pumpkins at the Christmas Tree Shop is any indication - so perhaps this is a project for another day.)

Anyways, the mysterious noise. It was a rhythmic sound, tinny and persistent, not really the kind of thing that should cause any alarm, but it was so out of place that I actually turned off the water to get a better listen.

That's when I freaked the hell out, because once the water stopped I realized that the vibrating sound was coming from the pipes. The shower head and pipes, to be exact. The pipes were shaking, even after the water was turned off.

Visions of possible electrocution danced through my head. A plumbing disaster was surely imminent, and here I was soaking wet with a head full of soap.

"HOOOOONEEEEEEY!"

"What?"

"Come! Take a look at the shower!"

"Why?"

"JUST COME!"

My husband came in, stopped for a minute, and asked me if I heard that strange noise.

"Of course I hear it and I don't know what it is...OMG, we need to call a plumber..it's Sunday morning the bill is going to be huge!"

A plumbing mystery is a fantastic way to start a relaxing Sunday morning, in case you can't tell.

We could only stand at the shower door for so long. We had to do something. My husband unscrewed the shower head but the mysterious noise raged on.

"Should I call a plumber?"

"Not yet."

"What if the pipes are about to explode?"

(I'm nothing if not good under pressure.)

"No."

"OK, let me take out the shower caddy so you can play around, but I'm going downstairs and calling a plumber. This is too serious to mess around with."

"We don't even know what 'this' is. How do you know it's serious?"

I ignored him and slipped the shower caddy from the pipe..thing..you know, that thing that comes out of the wall and connects to the shower? And that's when the mystery noise stopped.

Awesome -- until I realized that the shower caddy in my hands was vibrating.

"Oh. Ooooh!"

Apparently, I had accidentally turned a vibrating object on (it's not what you think)* when I put a bottle of conditioner on top of it.

Oops.

*People! It was this. I TOLD YOU it's not what you think.

(Perverts.)

Illustration Credits

Notice anything different?

I spent a few hours procrastinating yesterday and cleaned up things around here. It's still a work in progress, but I'm quite happy with the results so far - everything is clean and neat -unlike my actual house.

I did my own (very) simple banner - based on an illustration by the very talented Alma Loveland, who made the banner for my neglected style site. (I have plans to relaunch soonish.) Alma has been nothing but gracious and professional and I highly recommend her work.

After I did the banner I decided to clean up my sidebar a bit. I settled on buttons instead of word links to help people subscribe to the blog and find my Twitter stream. I spent a good amount of time looking for just the right buttons (procrastination is an art I've mastered, my friends) and of course I didn't find anything suitable. So I made my own, with the help of generous souls who have created illustrations and distributed them freely online.

I don't steal words or pictures from the internet which, sadly, makes me an anomaly, but I do things old-school. I give credit where credit's due. I also want to pay it forward, so I thought I'd share my buttons with anyone who wants them. Just be sure to give credit, OK?

Enjoy!

• My RSS button is adapted from the Ojingogo RSS icon - Isn't she adorable? I added some text, mostly to make myself laugh ("take me to your reader..." Ha! I crack myself up!) There are two versions to choose from, and I've included the code to make things easier for you. Just be sure to replace the words ADDYOURFEEDHERE with your feed address (keep the quotation marks) and you'll be all set!

Get Button

<a href="ADDYOURFEEDHERE"><img src="http://i271.photobucket.com/albums/jj146/roxsar/RSS.png"/></a><br><a href="http://diary.blogs.com/the_diary_of_a_reluctant_/2009/08/free-rss-twitter-buttons-code.html">Get Button</a>



Get Button

<a href="ADDYOURFEEDHERE"><img src="http://i271.photobucket.com/albums/jj146/roxsar/takemerss.png"/></a><br><a href="http://diary.blogs.com/the_diary_of_a_reluctant_/2009/08/free-rss-twitter-buttons-code.html">Get Button</a>

• My simple Twitter button is adapted from the free image found here - I simply changed the color and font to suit me better. Replace YOURTWITTERNAME with, well, your twitter name, and the button should link to your Twitter stream.

Get Button

<a href="http://twitter.com/YOURTWITTERNAME"><img src="http://i271.photobucket.com/albums/jj146/roxsar/Twitter.png" /></a><br><a href="http://diary.blogs.com/the_diary_of_a_reluctant_/2009/08/free-rss-twitter-buttons-code.html">Get Button</a>

The Cape

I've always lived near the beach, which means that I pretty much took sand, warm water and palm trees for granted. Until I moved to New England, that is. Now, in this land of the eternal winter, I crave nothing more than a sipping a mojito while listening to steel drums, or in a pinch, Jimmy Buffett. Because, as any tropical beach bum will happily tell you, kitsch is an important part of the beach experience.

Massachusetts has its beaches - Nantucket and the Vineyard, and of course Cape Cod - but we've always escaped to Miami to get our beach fix. We felt the beaches here were too boring (there are no palm trees to be seen!), the dining too full of fried foods, the cost too exorbitant, and the weather too unpredictable to really make for an enjoyable beach vacation. I wanted my boys to have the memories that I had - of playing in the turquoise water, finding sand dollars and ducking jellyfish frying on the sand, of drinking water straight from coconuts. But I'm too pregnant to even consider going to Miami in the summer, and we never quite got our act together to fly anywhere so we were forced to plan a beach vacation here or make do with the sprinklers.

We booked a last-minute vacation and drove down Rt. 3. And then a funny thing happened: We fell in love with the Cape.

The boys didn't see any sea horses or dolphins, but they hunted for crabs of the hermit and not-so-hermit variety.

Instead of lying on hammocks strung between palm trees, we made our way to the beach on boardwalks over dunes and lush vegetation.

We were never guaranteed full sun, but it didn't matter to the boys. They still had fun digging holes that would get them "all the way to Australia!"

Instead of bougainvillea, there were beautiful blue hydrangeas everywhere.

We were surprised to show up at the beach one day during low tide and find that the waters had receded past the sea grass, making the beach twice as big and allowing the boys a peek at what lives under the beach rocks.

As I sat on my beach chair, enjoying the cool (yes, cool!) breeze and watching my boys splash away in the distance I realized that their childhood memories of the beach will be very different from mine.

That they will remember gray cottages and charming town main streets instead of colorful beach huts and endless miles of warm tropical sand.

That they will probably learn to appreciate fried clams instead of stone crabs.

I'm OK with that. Because while the kitsch may be different up here, the relaxed vibe is the same.

And that is what summer is all about.

Things People Have Said to Me This Pregnancy, In Order of Decreasing Awesomeness

"This is your third pregnancy? You don't look like you're old enough to vote!" (Thank you butcher man. Thank you very much.)

"Do you think the baby can feel my kisses? I like kissing the baby." (From big brother, say it with me: Awww...)

"Call the baby Winnie...Winnie the Pooh-pooh head! HA HA HA!" (From big brother as well. He's taking it well, obviously.)

Grocery store manager as he calls for an employee: "Open a lane for this lady, we don't want her to have this baby here!" Then he winked at me. (The wink? It didn't help. But I got to skip the line, suckers!)

"Oh my God. You look like you're just ready to pop! When are you due? Any minute, huh?"
"October."
"Um, well, you look woooonderful!" (Too many strangers to count. Why would you ask a stranger her due date?)

Random lady: "I'm a little psychic. Your fourth child will be a girl."
Me: "Ha ha haaaa! Fourth child! That's funny!"
Random lady (looking hurt): "But I can feel your daughter! She's waiting for you in heaven right now."
Me: "FOURTH child! Haaaa...good one."

"You're having ANOTHER boy? Poor you." (Rot in hell, asshole.)

"I guess you were trying for a girl and failed!" (Seriously: What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. People?)

And my favorite comment of all, because I like to end on a positive note:

"You can't have enough men loving you! Well done!"

Ain't that the truth.