Friday, March 31, 2006

Things Are... Different This Time

If it weren't for the physical symptoms of pregnancy, I would not feel pregnant this time around. I mean, it's kind of hard to ignore the puking and the growing belly (they weren't kidding when they said I'd "pop" earlier the second time!) and the constant need to eat -- post-puking, obviously. I could even swear I'd felt movement, if it didn't seem so ridiculously early.

Even mentally, I think it's sinking in that we are having another baby. I keep making lists of things we need to do. I am looking forward to the fall, and worrying about how we'll manage the needs of two kids. I keep telling people I have a "boy" vibe this time (I was right about Raisin, so we'll see....).

Emotionally, though, I'm just not getting it. I'm not experiencing the kind of connection to this baby that I felt with Raisin. Truthfully, I'm not even sure I remember how I felt with Raisin -- maybe I'm projecting the connection I feel with her now back onto the pregnancy? Either way, it's bothering me a little, when I'm not too tired to think about it at all.

I mentioned the feeling to the midwife, and she thinks it's normal. "I wouldn't say a pregnancy can take care of itself, exactly," she said, "but it almost can. Your focus needs to be on your daughter, and that's OK."

Reassuring words, but I could use some more. Did anyone else experience something like this with a second (or later) pregnancy?

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

13 Weeks

Dear Used-To-Be-Not-My-Favorite-Midwife, I am heartily sorry for every bad thing I ever thought or said about you. You are wonderful and compassionate, and I think you must've been having a bad day the last time we met. If, in future, you could avoid having a bad day when I am in the middle of a major pregnancy freak-out? That would be much appreciated. Thanks ever so much.

Here are what I thought were the highlights of our time together today:

Episode 1:

UTBNMFM enters the exam room, joking with the "Mid-Husband." (I was positive I had written something about him before, but I can't find it. Anyway, 2 years ago he was the only male Certified Nurse-Midwife in Minnesota. I'm guessing that's still true. I'm sure he totally thinks the mid-husband thing is funny, and he never hears it. We love him immensely, as he is the CNM who took part in Raisin's birth.)

UTBNMFM: Hi, Grape. I was just commenting that I didn't understand why you'd chosen to see this guy in the hallway. [referring to my panic visit a few weeks ago]
Mid-Husband: Well, she was desperate. She was puking. How're you doing now?
Me: OK. Better, I guess.
Mid-Husband: You're still looking kind of pale.
Etc., etc., etc. -- much caring banter and sympathetic suggestions from both CNMs. Grape feels all warm and tingly and loved.

Episode 2

UTBNMFM: I don't like my patients to worry too much about weight gain during pregnancy. Try not to take it too seriously, ok?
Me: Will you marry me?

Episode 3

UTBNMFM: Unless you feel it's necessary, I just don't think we need to do a pelvic exam today.
Me: Seriously, I think I love you.

Also, since this is pregnancy #2, she said it's fine if we spread out the early visits a little more. In other words, no more exams until the ultrasound May 3! (Unless I freak out about something, which we all know will NEVER happen.)

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Just Overheard in the Office....

Person 1 is asking Person 2 about an impending tonsil surgery.

Person 1: Well, just don't end up like my dad. When he was about 12, he went in to the hospital expecting to get a tonsillectomy, but when he woke up, his wee-wee hurt instead! They'd given him a vasectomy too!

Person 2: (confused silence)

Person 1: His mom and dad told the doctors, "While he's out, do the vasectomy too!" He was 12!

Person 2: (more confused silence)

Person 1: Oh, no! Not a vasectomy! A Caesarean! No! I mean, a circumcision.

Everyone in earshot: OHHHHHH.

Message Board

To the two guys who rescued my Reese's from the evil office vending machine: I know I told you yesterday, but you really are my heroes! (Seriously, I know I was being all nonchalant about filling out the claim envelope for my 70 cents, but inside I was FREAKING OUT because I didn't have any more change and I wanted -- I mean the baby needed -- some chocolate.)

To the gentleman I encountered this morning on the commute to work: Don't you think it was a little early for all the road rage-y scariness, dude? Cut back on the caffeine, or drink more -- whatever you gotta do! Oh, and also? I'm rubber and you're glue.

To the kids in Raisin's toddler class at daycare: I love that you all shout, "Raisin's mommy!" when I come to pick her up. It makes me feel like a giant Norm on a very small-scale version of "Cheers." Of course, "Cheers" will be to you what "I Love Lucy" is to me.... Still, I know Ricky Ricardo, so you should know Norm Peterson. This is your HERITAGE. Be proud.

To the guy at the technology help desk at work: "Help desk," my foot. Thanks for nothing.

To myself: Get back to work.

Monday, March 27, 2006


About two months ago, Raisin found something in her room to be frightened of. We knew she was scared, because she'd wake up screaming every night. Some nights it'd happen several times, and she could only fall back asleep if one of us stayed with her.

She couldn't tell us what she was scared of, though, so I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't want to introduce the idea of scary things (like monsters), because I was afraid that I'd be compounding the problem. But two months later, DH and I are tired and crabby, and she's only sleeping marginally better despite our efforts.

So, this weekend, thanks to a suggestion from Moxie, we turned her harmonicas from KinderMusik into "monster scarers." I might be jinxing it by saying this, but I think it's working. She slept until 6 or 6:30 the last three nights (previous record: 4 am, after which she would only sleep in our bed, while the two of us clung tenuously to the scant inches of space she left us on the edges).

Last night, I'd put her to bed with no problems, and I actually thought she'd fallen asleep right away, since she was so quiet. Then, about 15 minutes later, we heard harmonica playing from her room. A few minutes after that, she really was asleep. I've decided there are 3 possible interpretations here:

1. Heartbreaking: she was scared of monsters, and now she's in there all alone, fighting hell's minions with just the piddly piece of plastic her mother gave her. I am a terrible mother.

2. Empowering: she wasn't sure what she was scared of, but now has a name to put on the fear, and a way to fight it. She is whistling in the dark. I am an awesome mother.

3. Hilarious and adorable: She couldn't give a rat's ass about the monsters, and she's just been crying because she doesn't want to sleep. At least now she can play the "I gotta go to bed" blues. Artistic expression helps her insomnia. I am still awesome.

Friday, March 24, 2006

I Believe

...that grown women should not carry purple "Hello Kitty" backpacks as their going-to-the-office bag. What you do on the weekends -- well, that's your own business.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

It's Possible That My Hormones Are Taking Over, A Little

There used to be a Jamba Juice in my building, but it closed. I was sad, but there are other Jamba Juices, so I moved on. Then, the building put up signs that said a sushi place would move in to that spot. Yahoo!!! Sushi right outside my door, practically. Jamba Juice could stuff it. I was thrilled.

I only got to eat a couple of delicious sushi lunches before I found out I was pregnant, but I didn't despair (too much). I thought, "Hey, they have California rolls. I'm good to go!"

WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT'S HOLY WAS I THINKING!!!???? Do you KNOW what sushi restaurants smell like? They smell like stinky raw fish, that's what, and they start preparing the damn fish before 8 a.m. every day. Even if pregnant women have to walk right by them just to get in the elevator to the office, they just go ahead putting their fishy fish smells all up in everybody's air space. They have no consideration for these poor women, who must try to hold their breath and dash past so they don't puke on the floor. It's like the sushi chefs DON'T EVEN CARE.

*Sob* I want my Jamba Juice back.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Where Have I Been?

Well, I'll tell you. I've been in Arizona, and it was lovely. Thank you for asking.

DH and I thoroughly enjoyed our company-sponsored vacation. We relaxed, we ate lunch by the pool, I watched several co-workers drink themselves just a little silly. I had a manicure and a pedicure at possibly the world's most relaxing spa. DH got all dusty on a jeep tour of the desert. I got to see Phoenix and Sedona, two places I have never been.

Meanwhile, Raisin learned so many new things at Grandma and Grandpa's house that I'm a little bit afraid of her. Somehow she has morphed into an honest-to-goodness CHILD; one who uses subject-verb sentences like, "I go potty too"* and "I'll be right back" (complete with an admonitory wave of the forefinger).

Fueling this fear is her new-found resourcefulness. An item placed, I thought, safely out of her reach on the dining room table is now easily obtained. She matter-of-factly hauled herself right up on one of the chairs, which she first had to move away from the table to give herself room. She's also determined to get herself into the bathtub rather than being lifted. She could do it, if we'd let her, but her method is to scramble her legs against the outside of the tub until she gets enough lift to propel herself over. Head first.

I have dreams in which she attempts the same stunt to get out of her crib. She hasn't tried it yet, but a big-girl bed is nevertheless in her very near future.

*She has yet to actually use the potty for its intended purpose, but she is a very dedicated student of the process. She sits, she asks politely for toilet paper, she wipes, and she washes her hands. Any suggestions for ways I can help her to understand that the missing piece is actually quite critical?

Friday, March 10, 2006

Liar, Liar

OK, it was only yesterday when I was promising to use my newly-discovered picture-posting skills (and by skills, I mean locating the button that lets you post pictures) to post pictures of Raisin.

But last night I had dreams about internet stalkers getting their hands on pictures of my pretty, pretty baby, and now I can't do it.

Yes, thank you, I know I am the crazy. I can't help it.

Thursday, March 09, 2006


I figured out how to post a picture on my blog so that I could include a photo of a baseball player. I've never posted a picture of Raisin. I pinky-swear that I will fix that soon.

I told Raisin that I was drinking milk, but it was Sprite.

I got out the maternity clothes last night so I could wear the comfy sweats. In 4-5 months when I'm complaining about being tired of wearing them, I dare you to remind me that I'm the one who wanted to get it all out so early. (Fortunately for my ego, everything else is still too big. But I LOVE those sweats.)

I believe my friend is making a mistake, but I won't tell him that. This is partly because I don't have the right, but mostly because I'm too chicken.

I think Grease is one of the best movies ever made. Shut up.

Grease II is unquestionably one of the worst movies ever made. Maybe the worst.

It's a slow week at work, and I am -- well, I'm taking it easy a little. Shhhh.

I won/earned a trip to Phoenix from work. (I was nominated for a "good job" award, and everyone who gets those awards is eligible for this trip. I was selected.) DH and I go next week, and I'm really looking forward to it. At the same time, I feel guilty because my coworkers don't get to go. Raisin will be spoiled by Baba and Gamma while we are gone -- another source of both guilt and pleasure.

I have possibly thrown up more this week than most of the rest of my life combined. Neat, huh? (Also see, "work, taking it easy at.")

Someone told me yesterday that I was starting to look pregnant. The other people in the conversation took giant metaphorical leaps backward to avoid being associated with her. Ha!

I will probably put on my pajamas right after Raisin goes to sleep tonight. Then I will watch "Survivor" and complain about how much Shane bugs me. I can't wait.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Kiiiirrrrrbbbbbyyyyy PUCKETT!!!!!

If I had to name 5 members of the Baseball Hall of Fame to save my life, I would die.

If you needed to know who won the World Series in 1988, 1989, or 1990, I would be the very last person in the whole world you should ask. THE LAST.

I can probably only name 2-3 players on this year's Twins team.

But I sure as hell know Kirby Puckett, Kent Hrbek, Gary Gaetti, Dan Gladden, Greg Gagne, et al. I was 9 when the Twins won the World Series in '87, 13 when they did it again in '91 (I thought Chuck Knoblauch was HOTT, and I almost cried when he left us for The Dreaded Yankees).

Kirby is a hero in this state. He led us to two World Series victories. He loved the game, and he taught a new generation of ball players to love it too. (Torii Hunter is one of the few Twins players I CAN name.) He was generous, and he stuck with Minnesota even when he could have made more money somewhere else.

His last 10 years were sad and hard, and now that he's gone there's a lot of debate about whether he deserved that or not. In the end, nobody really cares anymore. This is how Minnesota will remember him. So long, Puck. We'll miss you.