Here and there and everywhere.

It sucked.  Oh my god, did it suck.

Since my mom and dad were here and we had a week old baby, I figured that it would be in Brian’s best interests to spend the night at Kevin’s house the night before so that he could get up and have the tree and see that the cookies had been eaten, and all the other fun stuff that kids get to do on Christmas morning.   I was planning on trying to get up about seven (not that you really ever sleep with newborn babies around) and drive up to Plano and hang out at Kevin’s all day (so we could open presents and cook dinner [which is another fiasco in itself, but at least that one turned out okay]).   I told Kevin that as long as he made sure that he took pictures when Brian woke up that I was okay with this plan. We’d also discussed beforehand which presents were going to be ‘Santa presents’, since Kevin’s mom went completely goddamned fucking overboard buying him shit.  Literally I can’t describe to you the amount of crap that she sent.  There were probably forty presents under the tree for Brian from her.

Did I wake up at seven?  /cue hysterical laughter

We *finally* were up and had the three of us dressed about nine thirty or so.  Nobody had called, so I was assuming that the three adults that were present in the house had the sense to think “Hey, they have a new baby and get little to no sleep.  We’ll cut them some slack and let them get what sleep they can manage to get”.  We got Liam in the car and drove up there.

I walked in the door, and Brian is whizzing around the kitchen and hallway dressed in a white t-shirt and underwear on a scooter.  My brain goes ‘uhhhh’, and I look at Kevin.  “Where’d he get that?”  Kevin’s face sort of pales, and says that it was one of his presents.  My brain sort of blacks out here, I remember standing there staring at him while I processed the fact that Brian had opened every fucking one of his presents.  EVERY FUCKING ONE.  Kevin (rather feebly) says that I’d told him that as long as he took pictures that it was okay.  My brain starts screaming ‘WHAT THE FUCK COULD HE BE THINKING”, my mouth says ‘Yeah, of him waking up and finding his presents under the tree’.

I turned around and walked outside.  All I wanted to do was go home.  Brian (you know, MY son) is only going to be little once, and every year he gets a little more older and a little less innocent.   I’ve waited over two weeks to type this up because it bothers me so badly, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.   You would figure that between having a baby the week before and having an almost five year old that this Christmas would have been one of the best of my life, right?

Yeah.  I (after walking outside, trying to fall on the frozen water across the driveway, punching the car, and making Josh totally mad - not only was he mad about the stolen Christmas, but he’s mad that I”m trying to hurt myself) started carrying the rest of the stuff in from the car.  Side note here:  I’d told Momma weeks ago that she was going to cook dinner at Kevin’s.  She’d said that she’d need to bring her own pots and pans but since Daddy has his oh-so-wonderful truck at least she’d have the room to do so.  They get here and she’s got no idea that she’s supposed to be doing anything besides making some pies.  We sat down two days before Christmas and figured out what foods that she and Daddy just had to have and divided up who was going to make what.  We got it done, I even did the turkey!  Anyways.

I (and Josh) got everything in the house and I walked into the room past the kitchen area.  This part is a little blank as well, I know my mom was there and I just sat down on the floor and kept crying.  I do remember asking Josh to hand me Liam, and him replying with “Why, so you can kick him around too” (since I’d just kicked half of the opened toys across the room).   I just sat there and held him and did my best to not completely lose it.  You know, I had just had a baby a week before, anyone want to take a guess as to the state of my hormones?  Good guess!

My mom said that she’d thought about calling us.  THOUGHT.  SHE”D THOUGHT.  My dad?  He’d THOUGHT about calling us.  Both of them decided not to, since Kevin had reassured them that he’d talked to me and I was fine with everything.  (Keep in mind now that Kevin had Brian up opening presents before my parents were even out of their room.)  Yeah.  They both accepted the fact that I’d be fine with completely and utterly missing my child’s Christmas morning.  MOTHERFUCKING MORONS.

My parents aren’t too stupid, generally.  That morning?  Yeah.  Stupid.  Beyond stupid.  Fucking incomprehensibly moronically brain dead.    I’m almost more pissed off with them about this entire fiasco than I am Kevin.  Kevin is generally clueless about everything and he genuinely thought that he understood what I wanted.  My parents?  They KNEW that things weren’t kosher yet didn’t manage to actually do anything about it.

*fucking strangles the world*

I’m not sure exactly how long it took me to calm down enough that I could function.  It was probably a good hour.  My dad didn’t say anything to me, he just left - apparently he has to go worship his Buddy Jesus wherever he goes and was upset that nobody wanted to go with him.   I thought it was poetic justice that he didn’t make it to his worship service because he left too late to get there and get a parking spot.  I eventually demanded everyone come into the room with the tree and we opened our meager pile of loot.  Well, meager for everyone but Kevin, who had a small mother lode from his mother.  He hasn’t grown up either, you know - even her dog gives out presents.    Second runner up was me, I opened all of Liam’s presents.

Once that was done, I spent the rest of the day cooking and boob pumping.  I think Brian had a great Christmas - what kid wouldn’t when you receive a goddamned toy store under a tree that has your name on everything.    It sucks so bad that I’m never going to be able to do for Liam what Brian has had.  It’s not fair, and I’m never going to be able to fix it.  I did say that every bit of that shit was going to stay at Kevin’s house - so now there’s enough toys for three kids decorating Kevin’s house.  I figure it’s fair, since he refuses to say anything to his mom about anything and lets her do whatever she pleases, that he can deal with the crap.  Brian has brought over here the toys he cares about - his new Nintendo DS with his Go Diego Go game, his Batman toys, a little fake dog that breathes, and a Hulk board game that Josh picked out for him.  Sadly funny that he got enough toys to fill two rooms and doesn’t care about them beyond opening them.  He does like that scooter an awful lot, but there’s no way in hell it’s coming over here.

I guess it’s also a good time to mention this:  Brian regularly has projects at school that incorporate his outside of school life.  Every time he’s asked to describe or draw his family, it’s always me, Josh, Brian, and Cooper.   It’s now me, Josh, Brian, Cooper, and Liam.  That’s it.  That’s his family.  He doesn’t even think about adding Kevin because Kevin’s not family, more of extended family like Grandma or Grandmommy.  If you ask him, he’ll tell you that he loves playing with Dad.  That’s it.

Of course, that doesn’t change the fact that I was cheated out of my child’s motherfucking Christmas, but you know.

(Apologies for the long overdueness of this post.  I was holding out for pictures, which I’ll add or post in a new post eventually.)

As most everyone knows, I was supposed to be at the hospital at 5:30am on the 16th for a scheduled (repeat) c-section.   Tuesday night we sent Brian off with my mom and dad to Kevin’s house, and Josh and I decided that we wanted to go out and get something to eat.  Jason’s Deli was the only thing that remotely sounded good - and it worked out, since they apparently have a low sodium roast beef sandwich that was delicious.   We got home and I kept Josh up and awake forever.  I’m not good with deadlines and anticipation and patience and all that.  Finally went to bed about one am, maybe one thirty.  Something like that.

About two thirty I woke up feeling like I had to poop, which was weird because I usually do that at about the same time each day - which isn’t the middle of the night.  Whatever.  I got up out of bed and walked out to the living room to wait until the feeling either went away or got stronger (you know what I mean).  It was weird, it was all tight around my lower back and stretched around to the front.  I stood there a second (literally) staring at the monitor trying to decide if I wanted to waste any time dicking around on the computer and I felt a pop, followed by a decent gush of liquid going down my legs.  Just another reason why I’m thankful that we sleep naked.

“Josh!”  “What?!”  “My water just broke.”  “Are you fucking kidding me?”  ‘Nope.”

Priceless.

I figured out real quick that I wasn’t going to be able to move much, not only was I going to drip amniotic fluid all over the wood floor but it hurt to move.  WTF, shit isn’t supposed to hurt, that’s why I scheduled the c-section.  Josh started running around getting dressed and grabbing stuff - luckily, since we were supposed to be at the hospital three hours later, everything was packed aside from my toothbrush and stuff like that.  Could have been worse.  I called the doctor’s answering service and the doctor on call called me back.  She said to go ahead and head over to L&D, but she didn’t expect that we’d move the surgery up.  Go figure, right?

By the time we got there the contractions were about three to four minutes apart - and they hurt.  (Let me mention again how this wasn’t supposed to hurt, lol.)  We got upstairs and they got things moving along - my IV, Epidural, Catheter, etc.  The nurse asked if I had thought about a VBAC.  I laughed and said that it hurt.  I think she got the point, she didn’t mention it again.  Once they got the epidural going I was able to sit back and relax a little bit, which meant that I sort of dozed.  When I was admitted I was already dilated almost to a two which I find interesting since Brian was born after two days of yucky drugs resulted in dilation of five centimeters.   Once the epidural started taking effect the contractions tapered off, which meant that they were safe in waiting until my scheduled surgery time and the doctors didn’t have to show up early.  Sigh.

About seven forty they finally started getting things moving and wheeled me back to the OR.  I have no idea where Josh went, and the fact that he wasn’t there just made me even more nervous.   There was a woman behind my head who said that if I was really anxious that they could give me something for it which sounded great.  I did ask what it was (Phenergan) and since I knew what it was (it’s given for anti-nausea orally, although there are some other applications now that I googled it) thought it’d be fine.  I kid you not, between that point and the ten minutes later before Josh made it back was like I’d spent two nights drinking and was finally going to fall asleep.  I was completely useless.

I’ve got a few distinct memories of the actual surgery.  Josh held my hand the entire time (and tried three or four times to wake me up), and finally ended up holding my hand while his finger rested on top of the pulse oximeter that was on my index finger.  I remember the feeling that everyone was doing something and asking if they had already started - about the same time that they were opening the placenta.  I heard the baby cry and thought ‘That’s good”.  I’m not sure if I clearly remember seeing Josh crying or not, but I do remember him trying to ask/tell me that he was going to go with the baby.  Of course I’m cool with that, all I wanted to do was sleep!   They did hold the baby up real fast as well before they walked him to the nursery people on the side of the room.  All I remember was slightly cheesy baby that was crying.  (And in retrospect, I have no idea what his apgars were.  Damn.)

Josh and Liam went out of the room while I (obviously) stayed behind and hung out on the OR table.  I have no idea how long it took them to do anything, I closed my eyes and was happy as a sleeping clam.  Eventually they moved me back onto a stretcher and wheeled me to recovery.  Recovery, where I stayed for nine hours.  How may I count the ways.   It’s not my fault that (first) I seemed to have an abnormal amount of clots and (second) gushed blood for hours.  My theory is that because of my backward cervix the blood was pooling which meant that it was clotting while it was pooled and then gushed out when I changed position.  Regardless, they wouldn’t let me go until they had it all controlled to their satisfaction…. which meant that it took me SIX FREAKING HOURS to see my baby.  *screams*

After I’d asked and asked and asked, they finally brought Liam to me - after not only Josh had seen him, but my mom and dad had as well.  Life sure isn’t fair.  However, I did get the baby, and he was healthy.  It might not be fair, but life is good.  They eventually let us leave recovery, but they only let us get as far as a regular L&D room.  Seems as though you’ll get more attention in a L&D room than you would in a postpartum room.  We stayed there until the next morning, when we discovered that the clotting/gushing issue was resolved but that my platelets were low.  Damnit.  Platelets low meant that they didn’t feel comfortable removing my IV and my epidural.  I’m glad they didn’t feel comfortable, since neither did I.  They wanted to run another CBC 24 hours later before they’d touch either one.  They ran it at 4 am the next morning, and about eight or nine I sat down on the bed and the damned epidural shifted onto a nerve.  I freaked out, horribly.  I walked down to the nurses station crying my eyes out and blathering about not wanting to end up paralyzed.  I guess they felt sorry for me, because they called down to anesthesia and someone came up to remove the epidural.  (Today, twelve days later, my back is still twingy in certain positions.  Sigh.)

Liam hasn’t had any major problems at all.  He’s tongue tied (his frenulum is too long) so though I can get him to latch on my nipple he hasn’t tried to actually do anything with it.  I’ve been pumping, which while annoying and disheartening isn’t anything that I’m not already used to.  He had his circumcision done and it’s nice and healed up and looks great.  His cord stump fell off about seven hours ago - which was good, since it smelled like dead fish.  I’ve been calling him ceviche for two days.   (And, today is now BATH DAY.  YAY!)  I have no idea what his apgars were, but as soon as they had his head out of the incision in my belly he was screaming and squalling, so I’m assuming that his apgars were high.  His bilirubin never got high enough to worry about, his blood glucose was completely normal the seven or eight times it was checked (his heels were a mess), and his PKU was normal.  The only thing I’m concerned about is a spot on his head that’s round and upraised - the nurses in the hospital said it was fluid and normal and would go away on it’s own.  It’s still there, and it still feels like the tops of my feet did when swollen.  I’m going to mention it at his next doctor’s appointment in another week or so, but I bet since the doctor has seen him four or five times now, it’s nothing I should worry about.

Full stats:  December 16, 2009.  8lbs, 5oz, 18 1/2 inches long.  Five days after he was born he measured 19 3/4 inches at the doctor’s office - which means that I’m either lactating miracle gro, or they measured wrong at the hospital.  I’m voting for option two, since I said when I saw him that he was skinnier than Brian was at birth.

Best of all, not only is he completely healthy, he’s beautiful…. and he’s ours.

I’ll just make a new one. 

First, those bibs that ‘were Josh’s from when he was little’?  They have tags on them, which have copyright dates:  Circa 2002.

Next, an ornament that I’ve had on my desk since last Christmas that Brian got from Josh’s mom in a present and didn’t make it into the rest of the Christmas stuff when it was packed away.  It’s a ‘Kid’s Fourth Christmas’ ornament from Hallmark, I thought it was cute, etc.  I get it out to hang on the tree last night (yes, we put up the tree) and there’s curling ribbon on the hook, like someone had already had it out and used it on a tree - the ribbon was all crinkled, etc.  The bubble plastic wrap that ALL Hallmark ornaments come in was gone, so I pulled it out and noticed the back of the ornament:  2001.
WHAT THE FUCK.

I’m letting my guilt push me into updating, since I haven’t done anything with this blog since the first of November.  I have a feeling that it’s far easier for me to deal with practicing patience if I keep my mouth shut and my head down and coast my way through it.  Well… I’m almost done.  Thirty eight weeks, one day.  We go in next Wednesday morning for my second c-section (we’ve got to be there at five freaking thirty in the morning), so hopefully by mid-morning Wednesday we should have another baby.

Another baby.  How crazy is that?  Part of me is excited, part of me is getting quite nervous.  Pretty normal, especially since this time around I know what I’m getting into, as opposed to having absolutely no real idea at all.  I mean, sure.  I’d watched Heather’s kids for years, I’d been there for a lot of stuff - but I don’t think you ever really know until you’re the one getting up every thirty minutes to feed a crying monster, change it, get it back to sleep, then pump out more milk for another round in thirty to forty minutes…. over, and over, and over.  You know, to the point that you wonder if it’s ever going to fucking end - which, luckily, seems to be about the same time that it seems to get a little easier.

Josh is taking five weeks off of work (the almost week we’ll be in the hospital plus four more at home).  I’m horribly, horribly excited about that.. I’m not sure what I’m happier about.  A new baby, or a month’s worth of Josh being around all the time.  Easy answer is ‘both’.   My parents will be here sometime Monday - they were going to be here Sunday, but Momma decided she has too much to do before they leave and my dad saved seventy bucks on his gambling hotel room by moving it from Saturday night to Sunday night.  [cue the laughter]  My answer was ‘Oh good, that’s seventy more dollars you can spend on me’.  Hooray!   They are staying at Kevin’s - I’m not sure how well my dad is going to be able to actually sleep there, which I’m sure will ultimately determine how long they end up staying.  Brian’s far more excited about them coming than he is a new baby.  I sort of figured that he’d ‘get’ more of the baby concept, but I guess I was wrong.  He’s really excited about being a big brother, but he has no real idea of the concept - which is yet another thing that I’m sure is completely normal.  I got my siblings earlier, to the point that I have a handful of memories that don’t include Alison - and part of those include my mother’s stomach.

Josh’s mom has been playing nice (yeah, like everyone didn’t see that coming).  She came over last night to ‘drop some stuff off’.  Gave me forty dollars for a thermometer, since Josh had mentioned that we’d not bought one we’d looked at (it’s the temporal one, that you stick on the forehead).  I still don’t know if I want it or if I just would rather buy a few digital ones that you can stick in their butt.  The way I still lose the damned thermometer, I have a feeling the second option is far smarter.  She brought over a bag with some stupid fake tattoos for Brian and a bag for each of us.  My bag had two bibs that were Josh’s in it - cool part is the rubbery teethy thing on the bottom of one of the corners (guess that isn’t just a recent invention) that’ll be great for next year, a baby’s first Christmas ornament that she’d handwritten the baby’s name on (which means that it looks…well.. I’m picky and I have a touch of OCD, so yeah), and a Christmas elf outfit.  Problem?  It’s size SIX MONTHS (and has written in sharpie marker on the plastic hanger $4) - for my baby who’s going to be NINE DAYS OLD on Christmas day.    (I know, all I do is bitch, bitch, bitch.  I have good reasons, though?)  I didn’t really pay attention to Josh’s bag, but since he left it piled on the floor beside his computer chair, I will now:   a green hat and socks in newborn size, some santa booties in size unknown, and a long sleeved onesie that says ‘who needs Santa… when I have Grandma’ in size… wait for it… SIX MONTHS.  UGH.

In other news, we have finally joined the rest of America and we have cable.  Finally.   It’s actually DirecTV so it’s satellite, but we get television shows in HD that look stunning.  (AND, we were able to watch Glee last night at it’s normally aired time with the rest of the world.  Success!)  Brian’s liking the television part, but he doesn’t get that shows have commercials and that he can’t just watch anything he wants anytime he wants.  I’m about to knock him upside the head, to the point that every time I hear “Mommy, can I watch some TV” becomes another mental note to not turn it on.  Food Network in HD…Grey’s most of the day on some obscure SOAP channel (not that I don’t own the first five seasons on DVD..)… Discovery Health…  *happydance*

Christmas present wise, I’m about done.   I can’t remember if Alison knows about this blog or not, so I’ll refrain from mentioning exactly what I got them (aside from mentioning that I’m not sure that they will both like said items, but I thought that the one for Justin was hilarious and that I hope she has any interest in the one for her).  I (and Josh and Kevin, Kevin went in halfsies with us) got my Momma and Daddy a $100 gift certificate to eat at the Melting Pot - there’s one in Atlanta if they don’t make it to the one here before they leave.   We’re going to my favorite pottery place after the baby’s born to make something kid themed for Josh’s mom (and will no doubt most likely leave with things for us and for my mom as well).  So far for Kevin I picked up a Chick-fil-a calendar (what do you get for the person that has everything and the money to buy whatever he wants?).  I wanted to do this gift certificate to this gourmet cheese shop that Josh found through this Groupon site he frequents, but he didn’t buy it on the day they offered it.  I’ll find something, hopefully.  Brian is getting some Batman figures, a Nintendo DS, and two games from Kevin, I picked up a motorized Batman car and an Incredible Hulk board game.  I figure that’s plenty of stuff for the child that has everything.  I was saving another seven Transformers from last Christmas for this year, but the little stink found them in my closet about a month ago.  He’ll never know the difference either way.   As far as Josh and I go, we’re not really planning on getting anything for each other - at least anything that we can wrap.  We’re having a (admittedly horribly expensive) baby, we got DirecTV, and we bought a Canon EOS Rebel T1i (so, yes Virginia, Mommy FINALLY has her DSLR.  <3).  I’d say that we’ve already insured that we’re going to have a good Christmas, lol.

So, Christmas is about taken care of.  My mom is basically in charge of Christmas dinner.  We’re doing Christmas at Kevin’s house - I still haven’t decided if I’m even going to shack up our tree or not.  I’m leaning towards probably, but since I can’t sit on the floor and get the ornaments out, I can’t get the tree out of the closet on the porch and I definitely can’t get the plastic storage bin out of the top of Brian’s closet…. my answer is a tentative ‘maybe’.   Brian said that he does want it, but he wants it in my bedroom (wtf?).  So, yeah.. maybe.  Sigh.

I’m antsy.

Which means that it’s NoBloPoMo time again. I might do it again this year. I’m awfully lazy, though. :[

First, the fetus.  I’m 30 weeks today and everything is growing splendidly.  Estimated weight is three pounds, six ounces.  It’s doing it’s practice breathing, heartbeat is perfect, there’s enough fluid, and it eats it’s feet.  I’ve got pictures from the 3D/4D we had done up on Facebook, if I find another not lazy point I’ll link them here (along with what we got from today).  I still say that’s the only benefit to having a pregnancy termed high risk - I see more fetus pictures than anyone aside from people in the medical profession.

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Second, I ran across a friend suggestion on Facebook for a guy that I’d gone to high school with (and liked - no, Mark, not liked), so I clicked the add button.  Whenever he accepted it I’m not sure, but in a status update he linked to a blog he writes.  I’m always up for new reading material - it just so happened that the entry he linked hit on today’s big irritant - vaccines.  (Yeah, I’m missing the obligatory link - http://scipher.wordpress.com/2009/10/14/baldwins-these-are-not-negotiable/ )

I post on a pregnancy message board (It’s actually an offshoot of SparkPeople.com, it was the least offensive message board setup I could find, all the Php based ones seem to be populated by morons and bots) in a forum that’s made up of people who share the same due month as I have.  (So it’s currently people who are 29-33 weeks pregnant.)  Today one of the rabid anti-vacciners showed up with all of the half-cocked reasons why we all needed to avoid the H1N1 vaccine.

The two stunning examples of *bangs head on wall* genius produced in the thread:

“Warning to all the new H1N1 vaccination has been linked to autism and Guillain Barre syndrome in children and unborn children. there is 25% more serum in them and also they may have mercury in them too. after finding out this information i will not be getting the swine flu vaccine nor will my 20 month old daughter i wanted to warn all of you about this.”

“It should be said that I am against all vaccines at this time. My 20 month old has not had any vaccines. Aside from the dangers of the schedule, the link to Autism, and the toxins (mercury/thimeresol)… there is still no REAL proof that antigens=antibodies. The only way a body can buile up immunity is to have antibodies against said disease, therefore, I refuse to inject her with false hope & toxins. My plan is to boost her immune system with nutrition. I’m just not comfortable using a ‘one size fits all’ shot schedule for all kids. Not all kids are made the ’same’.”

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I’m not sure where to start, to be honest.    My problems with vaccines being across the board mandatory for each and every person living in the United States regardless of personal or religious preference?  (Okay, to be honest, we all know that I don’t give a damn about religious preference if it’s going to infringe on my or my children’s right to be alive…)

First, you have the allergic - and I’m not sure if some/all of the standard vaccines can be adapted to account for allergies.  (I know that the Army exempts people with egg allergies from a number of the required vaccines before deploying overseas, Kevin managed to get himself out of a few by claiming a non-existent egg allergy.)  Second, you have the fact that half the population is afraid of thimerosal, Guillain-Barré syndrome, Autism, and I’m sure another five hundred disorders that I skim over.  (People like Jenny McCarthy aren’t helping things here, either.)

Even as pro-vaccine as I am (I for damn sure had Brian popped as soon as possible with every vaccine that was available and will be doing the same with the almost done marinating fetus), I still wonder what if any basis there is to all the mania associated with vaccines.   Sure, Autism’s link to thimerosal has been debated and supposedly disproven both scientifically and within a court of law, but I’m not naive enough to believe that 90% of the population is going to trust the government.   Personally (not having seen any of the research or anything, mind you) I would place any link to Autism in it being a brain chemical/synapse disorder, not a chemically or in this case heavy metal induced disorder.  I really do understand people who delay vaccine schedules for whatever reason - the key word there is delay.  Not flat out REFUSE.

Another link that came from the blog I linked earlier - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herd_immunity There’s a city in Colorado (Boulder, iirc) where whooping cough (Pertussis)  is endemic.   Why?  Because people aren’t vaccinating their children.   That means that little Calliope who is allergic to the vaccine ends up with whooping cough because Noah’s mom refuses to vaccinate him because Jenny McCarthy told her that he’d get Autism.  Or Emma, who was vaccinated yet didn’t develop immunity because her B Cells weren’t capable of developing the needed antibodies catches it at school from Noah’s little brother.    Or (my personal crusading favorite) my [future]  week old child who isn’t old enough to receive said vaccine, yet was exposed and contracted whooping cough while visiting the doctor for a regular well-baby checkup.

Even making allowances for any basis that ingredients in a given vaccine could possibly be harmful in (makes up small number) .01% of the population, I still want to err on the side of safety for the vast majority of the population.  (Side note here:  Adjuvants are fascinating.)

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Oh - and I guess I should be glad to note that the Flinstones Complete vitamins that I’ve been shoving at Brian every day for the past two and a half years are going to completely boost his immune system and keep him safe from Measles, Mumps, Rubella, Polio, AND Pertussis!   *rolls eyes*

At least, that’s what Mark told me.  Mark, who just produced an amazingly adorably beautiful  child with a somewhat questionable name - although I still think that they should totally try and get some money out of AT&T.  Where else can you get free advertising like that?  3G AWAY!   (I’d take this time to ponder on the advancement of US cellular networks and how long it’s going to take to roll out the 4G upgrade, and then I remember that AT&T is trying to establish a baseline for broadband as 768k ….. yeah, jackasses, Americans are TOTALLY on board with being internet shafted yet again.)  I’d threaten to move to Japan, but I’m not sure that any of us would be able to speak and living on ramen noodles would surely aggravate Josh’s family history of heart disease.  Surely.

I just haven’t had much to blog about lately.  Life has at least temporarily returned to it’s nice boring state of (sugar free) vanilla pudding.  The fetus has a first name, it’s not O-S-C-A-R.  We’re debating the middle name, but if we don’t find anything else, it has one of those, too.  We’ll see.  I’m still holding out a small amount of hope that I’ll go in for my 28 week sonogram in two weeks and there won’t be any phallic looking objects present.  There’s hope, it could have been the cord, right?  The sonogram person said herself that she ‘thought’ that there was something there, after all.  *laughs*  My luck, is not the good.

We traded in the crib that I had for Brian that I’d paid 100 bucks for at Wal-Mart yet never really used (ignoring the fact that it was recalled three years ago for killing kids) and one of the two yucky car seats that I had at the time (the other one Josh’s mom stole and still has) at Babies R Us last week.  They are doing this ‘Great Trade-in Event’ thing where you get 20% off of a select list of baby items for trade-in’s.  It ended up saving us …  math, it fails me.  The travel system started at $250 and the playyard at $150.  20% off of $400 is… Eighty dollars.  There.  Yeah.  The design makes me happy every time I look at it, so even if by some miracle of the flying spaghetti monster the fetus turns out to have a vagina, I’d still be happy to use it all.   (And yeah, we totally weren’t going to buy anything this early, but I couldn’t turn down saving that much money.  I did keep the receipts, and the boxes are still in the living room, just in case.  You know.)

Brian’s glad to be back at school.  He hasn’t come home with the H1N1 yet - and I’m glad that we got out of Atlanta when we did, since it’s apparently making the serious rounds there.  I think there’s three people on my Facebook list of friends from high school that have kids that are currently infected with the piggie flu.  Talk about something that could have picked a better year to run it’s course.  You know, a year that I’m not currently pregnant would have been nice.  Honest.

Kevin’s talking about going back oversomewhere because he can’t find a job here making the kind of money he wants.  I’m sort of jealous, since he has absolutely no concept of what it’s like to be… normal.  You know, middle class, run of the mill, barely making it but not qualifying for government assistance?  That.  He turned down a job the other day because he’d only be making 80k a year - jesus fucking christ.  That’s DOUBLE what we live on, and that’s only in the last year with Josh’s not so new now job and all the overtime he’s worked.  *screams*

So, yeah.  In other words, it’s situation normal here.  Life wise, the only other thing that we’ve done is taken another hiatus from LOTRO.  (LOTRO, who announced a PAID digital download expansion containing content that is equal to what they have previously released as a free update to the game.  LOTRO, where we’re finally at the point where we’re ready to run the end game raids but can’t convince the people we’re playing with to actually attempt said raids.  Josh has been itching to get away for a while, the breaking point for me was when I suggested a different way of downing a boss that they’ve been trying to kill for SIX FUCKING MONTHS weekly and sometimes bi-weekly without success, yet being told that what I was suggesting didn’t work…. Even though someone we know does it exactly like we suggested three times a week.)  We’re playing WoW with some guys (and their wives) that Josh works with.  My personality clicks really well with one of them, so at least we’ve got some fun Vent nights since we’re newbies and they are all doing end-game shit.  Isn’t that always our problem, though?

Oh, and since today wouldn’t be complete without it, Happy should-have-been Birthday to Jaclyn, who would have been 23 today.  My dad offered to have dinner delivered to us so that we could eat and enjoy each other’s company on the webcams.  I’m pretty sure I declined.

“Mommy, do babies come out of people’s legs?”
“Well, some babies come out from in between their legs, out of their vaginas.”
“Is our baby going to come out of your legs?”
“No, our baby is going to come out of my stomach.”
“Why?”
“Because my vagina is broken.”
“Oh. Your pagina is broken. Okay.”
*scampers away*

Brian had been at Kevin’s house practically all day the other day (that I had my OB appointment). We drove up to meet them, and I sat Brian down and showed him all eight of the pictures we had while explaining what he was actually looking at. I got to the last picture:

Me: And that is his peen.
Brian: *points* And that’s the butt!
Me: Yep. You know what that means, right? It’s a boy baby.
Brian: But I wanted a girl baby! *runs off to the living room* Daddy!

I spent that night and a lot of yesterday cleaning out five years of clothes from Brian’s room. I had Craigslisted a bunch of the early infant stuff, had gotten rid of a lot of it when we moved in here, but there’s an awful lot still left - I don’t think I’ve gotten rid of anything past twelve months, at all. I got the early baby clothes taken care of the first night and yesterday started on the larger boxes of bigger clothes. (For comparison’s sake, size 3T takes up an entire 18 gallon plastic bin.  Sizes Newborn/0-3 months/3-6 months?  I’ve got six newborn/0-3 mth sleepers, one outfit, three summery 3-6 mth outfits, seven onesies - most are shortsleeved, but it’s a decent mix of the two sizes.  That’s it.)  Inside one of them (that was filled with 18 month clothes), I found this:

That is a sleeper that Jaclyn had gone out to Old Navy and bought for Brian pretty much as soon as we knew that he was a boy. (Which, if I’m recalling dates correctly, was October or November.) Since he was born in March and because of how quickly he ended up growing he didn’t wear it much at all - maybe once or twice. However, this baby will be born a week or two before Christmas. Perfect. Sadly, sadly perfect.

It bothers the ever loving shit out of me, the fact that I have (had?) a sister that my children won’t know. Brian doesn’t remember her alive, he remembers that she existed and can tell you quite clearly exactly how she died. This baby is going to be born almost three years after she died… which isn’t goddamned fair, at all.

We went for my twenty week ultrasound yesterday morning. The baby is pretty perfect, estimated weight is twelve ounces, everything’s where it’s supposed to be, etc. I’m still about seven pounds less than I was at my first OB appointment - since I’m fat, they don’t care, and I’m perfectly happy LOSING weight the entire time. It’s fair, right?

And, what everyone was waiting for….