For those of you who might be wondering (and for the benefit of those of you who don't care), I have decided to limit any updates/news of my pregnancy to one detailed post every few weeks. I figure many people who read this blog don't care about what nastiness is going on with my bod, so those folks only have one post in a blue moon to skip over, rather than trying to sort through a myriad of posts they do or don't want to read. I've also tried to make the title pretty clear so that people will know if it's a post they'll be interested in.
But...for those of you who are curious--and I've gotten a lot of flack from some of you for not writing more about Wee Willie--here is your semi-monthly news update. Kinda gross but not that exciting, so I'll let you decide for yourself if you really feel like reading.
First, the nausea has returned. This time it brought--as my college roommate Kara used to put it--"the throwup disease" with it. All yesterday my appetite was pretty low and I could barely shovel anything in, despite being pretty hungry. Last night, while brushing my teeth, I felt the impending doom approaching. Luckily I was hunched over a sink anyway. I called Adam immediately afterward for sympathy. After registering that I had indeed thrown up for the first time of my entire pregnancy, he then said very pragmatically, "Well, just turn on the faucet and wash it down!"
In less gross news, I have started showing. Well, it's apparent at least to me, when I'm nude, in front of the mirror. I'm pretty sure that tummy bulge has nothing to do with the two donuts I snarfed this morning on my way to work (I had to make up for the events of last night, right?). My jeans are starting to feel less comfortable to wear all day long, which is a little sad, since I love jeans more than most other things in life. But I've started wearing khaki fieldwork pants, because they "give" a little more when I'm sitting around the office. While I'm too early on to feel any movement yet, supposedly the Navel Orange (Wee Willie's size right now at 16+ weeks) can feel me when I poke and prod at my belly. That's kind of neat. Sometimes I poke a little and then say "This is your Mama! You better behave in there!" Other times I just sit around with my ever-growing belly in my hands and stare, amazed that this is really happening. It is completely unreal.
Exciting news:
Adam and I have been fortunate to have an extensive network of generous and thoughtful friends who have donated/lent their used baby items to us for Wee Willie's comfort and joy. So far, we have amassed many, many clothes, a baby Bjorn, a playmat-with-mobile, carseat, and baby tub from Seth, Sherry, Kai and Quinn; some fantastic books from Sarah and Steve that helped me make the decision to use the birth center; Wee Willie's first baby blanket from Art and Janice; and the ever-necessary cloth diapers from Trixi and Phoenix. Grandma Jayne, Aunt Shannon and Uncle Jake have given Wee Willie its first book, and Grandma Linda and Grandpa Cal sent baby its first spoon. Adam and I are SO excited and extremely grateful. Thanks to you all for your kind gifts and donations and to everyone for the caring thoughts and support.
Last piece of news:
Adam and I have made the command decision to leave the hospital that we've been working with in favor of the local birthing center. After a not-satisfying experience with my ob/gyn, a lot of extensive reading (I highly recommend "The Birth Book" by William & Martha Sears and "The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth" by Henci Goer) and heeding my own personal beliefs and gut instinct, I've decided to follow human tradition and allow my body to do the work of giving birth, not doctors, nurses, drugs and machines. The birth center is staffed by certified nurse midwives, a doula and a massage therapist. I have a couple of friends who have delivered there and have been extremely satisfied with their birth experiences. Adam and I look forward to ours as well.
So that's it for week 16. Things are good except when I'm puking in the sink; baby is growing and continuing to wreak havoc on my digestive and excretory systems; and Adam and I look forward to good things yet to come.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
I Spoke to Sam Waterston!!!
Well, sort of. He was on NPR's "Talk of the Nation" this afternoon, and since my previous attempts to e-mail a quetion to the live broadcast have always failed, I decided to pursue a different tactic--I sent the e-mail before the show actually started so I'd be among the first they received. Well, it worked. The host asked Sam Waterston my question and he really gave such a nice, nice answer.
If you don't know who he is, Sam Waterston plays the lead prosecutor on the tv show "Law & Order" (original version). While I love his character on the show, I first knew him from the film adaptation of "The Great Gatsby" and from my favorite role of his, Forrest Bedford on the 90s tv drama, "I'll Fly Away." My question asked him how he felt that show ("I'll Fly Away") changed tv and changed his perspective in general. He responded that that role to this day has impacted him and connected him to viewers more than any film or stage role he's ever portrayed. He said he loved the show because it was a good family show and really raised some pertinent issues. He also said that it allowed him to stop being snobbish about being on TV and to realize the power of that media outlet.
So, this post is really for my Mum because I used to watch "I'll Fly Away" with her and I thought she'd appreciate knowing that I got a chance to communicate with one of the great actors in Hollywood today.
If you're at all interested in hearing Sam talk to "me", you can follow this link:
http://www.npr.org/templates/calendar/index.php?prgId=5
On the calendar, click on "9", then click on the link to the Sam Waterston interview. You'll only have to go about 11 minutes into the interview.
If you don't know who he is, Sam Waterston plays the lead prosecutor on the tv show "Law & Order" (original version). While I love his character on the show, I first knew him from the film adaptation of "The Great Gatsby" and from my favorite role of his, Forrest Bedford on the 90s tv drama, "I'll Fly Away." My question asked him how he felt that show ("I'll Fly Away") changed tv and changed his perspective in general. He responded that that role to this day has impacted him and connected him to viewers more than any film or stage role he's ever portrayed. He said he loved the show because it was a good family show and really raised some pertinent issues. He also said that it allowed him to stop being snobbish about being on TV and to realize the power of that media outlet.
So, this post is really for my Mum because I used to watch "I'll Fly Away" with her and I thought she'd appreciate knowing that I got a chance to communicate with one of the great actors in Hollywood today.
If you're at all interested in hearing Sam talk to "me", you can follow this link:
http://www.npr.org/templates/calendar/index.php?prgId=5
On the calendar, click on "9", then click on the link to the Sam Waterston interview. You'll only have to go about 11 minutes into the interview.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Paging Adam M.
Just checking to see if you are reading my blog like you promised you would...personally I think you look pretty manly and rockin' in that pic in the title banner. A good ole-fashioned mountain man, if you ask me. Mmmmm....suddenly I'm really looking forward to you coming home in a couple weeks!
Call me!
Call me!
How Ya Like Me Now?
I just wasted way too much time trying to perfect the new title to this blog. I hope you like it. Actually, for all the time I just put in, you'd better like it.
Have a good rest of your Sunday, folks!
Have a good rest of your Sunday, folks!
Friday, December 5, 2008
Pulling "A Lauren"
Sorry to overwhelm you with posts today, but after reading my friend Katie's blog, www.renakabena.blogspot.com (check it out--it's hilarious!), I was reminded of a post that I've been meaning to write and keep forgetting.
I found out from my friend Sarah a few months ago that she and some other friends have dubbed a certain event "A Lauren". Some years ago, I guess I made the comment that every so often, when I go to the bathroom thinking it's for a #1, a #2 will dash out unexpectedly, all on its own. I must have asked my friends if that ever happened to them. I'm sure I mentioned it because of the inconvenience of it all--you think you're going to have a quick pitstop and then it turns into splashing and more toilet paper and, well you know the drill. Well, I guess it did happen to these friends (or they finally realized it had been happening all along), and recalling the conversation, they started saying, "So, I pulled a Lauren!" I guess I should feel proud that my name is linked with potty behavior, because it is what I find the funniest of all human activities. Now, if I can only get this copyrighted and make a little dime off it...
I found out from my friend Sarah a few months ago that she and some other friends have dubbed a certain event "A Lauren". Some years ago, I guess I made the comment that every so often, when I go to the bathroom thinking it's for a #1, a #2 will dash out unexpectedly, all on its own. I must have asked my friends if that ever happened to them. I'm sure I mentioned it because of the inconvenience of it all--you think you're going to have a quick pitstop and then it turns into splashing and more toilet paper and, well you know the drill. Well, I guess it did happen to these friends (or they finally realized it had been happening all along), and recalling the conversation, they started saying, "So, I pulled a Lauren!" I guess I should feel proud that my name is linked with potty behavior, because it is what I find the funniest of all human activities. Now, if I can only get this copyrighted and make a little dime off it...
Trifling
Does everyone know this word? I seem to remember back in high school using this word and a bunch of classmates not knowing the meaning. Essentially, it means "petty" or "trivial". For example, if I were too lazy to go outside and pick up the paper, and I were to call a neighbor and ask them to come over just so they'd pick up my newspaper on the way in, that would be trifling. Or, if I were going out to dinner with friends and I accidentally-on-purpose forgot my wallet so someone would have to pick up my tab for me--that would be trifling.
There are less intentional versions of trifling, too, though. Like what I heard from my friend Michelle last night. She and her fiance, Micah (both white), are getting married in Memphis, TN this coming April. They hunted around for several places to have the reception, but finally settled on...the Civil Rights Museum in downtown Memphis. She says it has a beautiful banquet hall and hosts lots of receptions and such there. The 'trifling' part comes in now...they're getting married on April 4...the same day that Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed, just a couple blocks from that very spot, some 41 years before. I know I shouldn't have, but I laughed till my sides hurt when I heard that news. Now I REALLY hope that I'll be able to go to the wedding.
There are less intentional versions of trifling, too, though. Like what I heard from my friend Michelle last night. She and her fiance, Micah (both white), are getting married in Memphis, TN this coming April. They hunted around for several places to have the reception, but finally settled on...the Civil Rights Museum in downtown Memphis. She says it has a beautiful banquet hall and hosts lots of receptions and such there. The 'trifling' part comes in now...they're getting married on April 4...the same day that Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed, just a couple blocks from that very spot, some 41 years before. I know I shouldn't have, but I laughed till my sides hurt when I heard that news. Now I REALLY hope that I'll be able to go to the wedding.
The One About The Hat
Sorry for the delay...so many things happened over the holiday (and have been keeping me busy since) that I've been writing this post in stops and starts. Hope you enjoy!
I won't bore you with too many details about the holiday itself--we ended up going to Adam's boss's house for Thanksgiving dinner, which was unexpectedly fun, then had some quality time together for the rest of the evening (*wink*). Friday we spent way too much money with the Black Friday shopping, still managing to get some great deals despite waking up at a reasonable hour to go out. That evening we drove to my sister's and brother-in-law's coffee shop for their Friday night Open Mic Night. Saturday morning we visited two of my gal pals from high school who are also pregnant. Adam actually had a hard time tearing himself away from the pregnancy stories to go hang out with the guys! I was really impressed and flattered that he took such an interest. Saturday evening we spent with my Mum, brother and little nephew, while Mum and I cooked up another T-day dinner. Sunday morning was spent with my Mum, then letting our new GPS unit take us on what-should-have-been-a-2-hour-trip-back-to-the-hotel-but-turned-into-almost-4-hours-on-dark-rainy-backroads-of-Virginia. We got ourselves a nice pizza Sunday night for dinner then got Adam ready for Monday morning class. Monday I spent vegging in front of murder-mystery shows on the "Investigation Discovery" channel; I only tore myself away long enough to take Kika for a walk around town, and to accompany Adam to the doctor to get his sprained knee checked out (he's fine).
The real story was the flight home. Well, first, the flight out. I had Kika with me, who was an absolute doll in her little carrier. I think she actually enjoyed having her little quarters to herself, and she didn't snap even once at all the rude and annoying faces and fingers that made their way eye level with her sanctuary. When I got to the security gate, I did everything right--took off my shoes, and put all my belongings in a bin to pass through the scanner. As per the TSA officer's instructions, I took Kika out of her carrier, sent that through the scanner, and held her in my arms as we walked through the security arch. In previous trips, I've found that if I walk through too fast it doesn't scan me properly so I have to walk through a second time. I figured that with the additional load of Kika in my arms, I'd better walk through a little more slowly to ensure that the both of us were scanned thoroughly. Bad idea. The TSA agent on the other side (literally) yelled at me in front of everyone, saying that I needed to walk normally through the gate, so I had to go through it yet again. This time, I walked as normally as I could, with the eyes of every curious passenger on me and my little dog, as the agent then told me, upon my successful passage, that he thought I was trying to "hide something" because of my previously failed attempt. Indignantly, but with as much respect as I could muster at such a public humiliation, I retorted, "Uh...NO...I thought that if I passed through more slowly the scanner would read me more thoroughly!" Then I got the hell out of there before I pissed anyone off and got delayed by the TSA.
So, then, the flight back home on Tuesday morning. My flight left at 6am, so Ads and I had to get up at 4am in order to shower, dress and get ready to be at the airport by 5am. By the time we got there, the full realization that I was leaving (without Adam OR Kika) had set in and I got teary. Realizing that they'd be here to visit me for Xmas in 2 1/2 weeks made it only marginally better. By the time I'd said good-bye and headed to the ticket counter, I was in foul spirits and still sopping up tears with my sleeve. The ticket counter folks were inappropriately peppy for 5 in the morning. In particular, one tall tall blonde spotted me and started exclaiming about the hat I was wearing. It's one of those hats with ear flaps and tassels; mine has the British flag emblazoned all around it. I got it for Xmas one year from Adam's sister, who lives in England with her family. Well, it definitely hit a nerve with this woman at the ticket counter, who started exclaiming to all of her coworkers, "Look at her hat! Check it out! Isn't it the cutest ever? Omigod, I love that hat!" Then she starts barraging me with questions about it: "Where did you get it? How can I get one?" It was a bit much for so early in the morning, so I mumbled that I'd gotten it from my sister-in-law who is married to a Brit. The woman screams back, "So am I! Omigod!" So I gave her one last look and said, "Well, I guess you'll have to go to England." Almost fainting with enthusiam, she shrieks back, "Well, I'm leaving for England tomorrow!" Well, jolly gee whiz for her.
After NOT passing through security (who knew that fruit jam is a liquid?), I had to go back to the ticket counter, pay $15 to check my bag and then deal with the TSA agents all over again. The woman smugly asked me if I'd checked my luggage as she had me take off my shoes a second time and repeat my walk of humiliation through the arch. After a short wait at the gate, I boarded my plane, only to find (who else?) "hat girl" as my flight attendant. As soon as she saw me, she exclaimed, "Oh, you're the girl with the cute hat!" I tried to muster a smile, but at this point, it was only 6am, and after the hat diatribe, the liquids/gels/lotions/checked baggage fiasco, I was in no mood to talk about my hat. But she was! Everytime she passed me walking down the aisle, she'd murmur, "I just LOVE that hat!" People started twisting around in their seats to stare at my hat. Finally, right before the flight attendants had to "prepare the cabin for takeoff", "hat girl" comes up to me with her camera and says, "Excuse me, but would you mind if I took a picture of your hat so I could show my husband what I want for Christmas?" I wanted to explode in her face, tell her to stop annoying a paying customer, anything to get Ms. Happy-in-the-morning out of my face. But, of course, I didn't. I just mumbled, "sure" and purposely turned my head so the camera wouldn't get a picture of my face, just the hat. She left me alone for the rest of the flight.
In other TSA stories, a friend of mine recently told me how she got stopped at the security gate because of a $30 jar of Aveda hair wax she had in her luggage (isn't wax a solid?). They wouldn't let her go through with it, so she either had to check her luggage or have it thrown out. Well, risking arrest (literally), she deflected the agent's attention to other items in her bag and knocked the offending Aveda wax back into her purse, then quickly closed up everything and marched right through security. Part of me wishes I had her chutzpah; the other part of me says she's going to be arrested one day.
We're getting loads of snow here today--on top of the 4 inches that were on the ground upon my return on Tuesday, we've accumulated an additional 3 inches or snow, and we're supposed to get another 2-3 this weekend. "Walking in a winter wonderland!"
I won't bore you with too many details about the holiday itself--we ended up going to Adam's boss's house for Thanksgiving dinner, which was unexpectedly fun, then had some quality time together for the rest of the evening (*wink*). Friday we spent way too much money with the Black Friday shopping, still managing to get some great deals despite waking up at a reasonable hour to go out. That evening we drove to my sister's and brother-in-law's coffee shop for their Friday night Open Mic Night. Saturday morning we visited two of my gal pals from high school who are also pregnant. Adam actually had a hard time tearing himself away from the pregnancy stories to go hang out with the guys! I was really impressed and flattered that he took such an interest. Saturday evening we spent with my Mum, brother and little nephew, while Mum and I cooked up another T-day dinner. Sunday morning was spent with my Mum, then letting our new GPS unit take us on what-should-have-been-a-2-hour-trip-back-to-the-hotel-but-turned-into-almost-4-hours-on-dark-rainy-backroads-of-Virginia. We got ourselves a nice pizza Sunday night for dinner then got Adam ready for Monday morning class. Monday I spent vegging in front of murder-mystery shows on the "Investigation Discovery" channel; I only tore myself away long enough to take Kika for a walk around town, and to accompany Adam to the doctor to get his sprained knee checked out (he's fine).
The real story was the flight home. Well, first, the flight out. I had Kika with me, who was an absolute doll in her little carrier. I think she actually enjoyed having her little quarters to herself, and she didn't snap even once at all the rude and annoying faces and fingers that made their way eye level with her sanctuary. When I got to the security gate, I did everything right--took off my shoes, and put all my belongings in a bin to pass through the scanner. As per the TSA officer's instructions, I took Kika out of her carrier, sent that through the scanner, and held her in my arms as we walked through the security arch. In previous trips, I've found that if I walk through too fast it doesn't scan me properly so I have to walk through a second time. I figured that with the additional load of Kika in my arms, I'd better walk through a little more slowly to ensure that the both of us were scanned thoroughly. Bad idea. The TSA agent on the other side (literally) yelled at me in front of everyone, saying that I needed to walk normally through the gate, so I had to go through it yet again. This time, I walked as normally as I could, with the eyes of every curious passenger on me and my little dog, as the agent then told me, upon my successful passage, that he thought I was trying to "hide something" because of my previously failed attempt. Indignantly, but with as much respect as I could muster at such a public humiliation, I retorted, "Uh...NO...I thought that if I passed through more slowly the scanner would read me more thoroughly!" Then I got the hell out of there before I pissed anyone off and got delayed by the TSA.
So, then, the flight back home on Tuesday morning. My flight left at 6am, so Ads and I had to get up at 4am in order to shower, dress and get ready to be at the airport by 5am. By the time we got there, the full realization that I was leaving (without Adam OR Kika) had set in and I got teary. Realizing that they'd be here to visit me for Xmas in 2 1/2 weeks made it only marginally better. By the time I'd said good-bye and headed to the ticket counter, I was in foul spirits and still sopping up tears with my sleeve. The ticket counter folks were inappropriately peppy for 5 in the morning. In particular, one tall tall blonde spotted me and started exclaiming about the hat I was wearing. It's one of those hats with ear flaps and tassels; mine has the British flag emblazoned all around it. I got it for Xmas one year from Adam's sister, who lives in England with her family. Well, it definitely hit a nerve with this woman at the ticket counter, who started exclaiming to all of her coworkers, "Look at her hat! Check it out! Isn't it the cutest ever? Omigod, I love that hat!" Then she starts barraging me with questions about it: "Where did you get it? How can I get one?" It was a bit much for so early in the morning, so I mumbled that I'd gotten it from my sister-in-law who is married to a Brit. The woman screams back, "So am I! Omigod!" So I gave her one last look and said, "Well, I guess you'll have to go to England." Almost fainting with enthusiam, she shrieks back, "Well, I'm leaving for England tomorrow!" Well, jolly gee whiz for her.
After NOT passing through security (who knew that fruit jam is a liquid?), I had to go back to the ticket counter, pay $15 to check my bag and then deal with the TSA agents all over again. The woman smugly asked me if I'd checked my luggage as she had me take off my shoes a second time and repeat my walk of humiliation through the arch. After a short wait at the gate, I boarded my plane, only to find (who else?) "hat girl" as my flight attendant. As soon as she saw me, she exclaimed, "Oh, you're the girl with the cute hat!" I tried to muster a smile, but at this point, it was only 6am, and after the hat diatribe, the liquids/gels/lotions/checked baggage fiasco, I was in no mood to talk about my hat. But she was! Everytime she passed me walking down the aisle, she'd murmur, "I just LOVE that hat!" People started twisting around in their seats to stare at my hat. Finally, right before the flight attendants had to "prepare the cabin for takeoff", "hat girl" comes up to me with her camera and says, "Excuse me, but would you mind if I took a picture of your hat so I could show my husband what I want for Christmas?" I wanted to explode in her face, tell her to stop annoying a paying customer, anything to get Ms. Happy-in-the-morning out of my face. But, of course, I didn't. I just mumbled, "sure" and purposely turned my head so the camera wouldn't get a picture of my face, just the hat. She left me alone for the rest of the flight.
In other TSA stories, a friend of mine recently told me how she got stopped at the security gate because of a $30 jar of Aveda hair wax she had in her luggage (isn't wax a solid?). They wouldn't let her go through with it, so she either had to check her luggage or have it thrown out. Well, risking arrest (literally), she deflected the agent's attention to other items in her bag and knocked the offending Aveda wax back into her purse, then quickly closed up everything and marched right through security. Part of me wishes I had her chutzpah; the other part of me says she's going to be arrested one day.
We're getting loads of snow here today--on top of the 4 inches that were on the ground upon my return on Tuesday, we've accumulated an additional 3 inches or snow, and we're supposed to get another 2-3 this weekend. "Walking in a winter wonderland!"
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