Baby STD's

You haven't heard much from us for a week or so because our sweet little precious babe became possessed with a screaming tapeworm demon (a.k.a., "3-week growth spurt").  Basically, for the better part of a week, young Charles decided that he had to feed for about 12 hours a day (I wish that was an exaggeration), and he demanded that we hold him for the other 12.  It was wildly fun, if by wildly fun you mean "so awful that it made me ugly cry in the shower twice."  So there was that.  

The good news, though, is that the screaming tapeworm demon (oh jeez, does my baby have an STD? I totes thought I'd be a better parent than this!) has since been exorcised.  Today he's been just lovely and delightful.

So he's no longer looking like this all the time.

And he's gone back to looking like this.

Still, I'm considering going in tomorrow to get my tubes tied.

Also, during my time trapped on the couch in the last week, I have watched an insane amount of stupid TV.  I did feel like a better parent when I compared myself to the girl on 16 and Pregnant who was determined to get back to training to become a professional cage fighter, and I felt like a better human during MTV's True Life: I Am Jealous of My Sibling that featured such loathsome humans that it made the cage fighting mom seem like a Ghandi rocket scientist.  Also, the Justin Bieber Proactiv commercials that aired during every break made me wonder if, perhaps, it was high time that I find some more age-appropriate programming?

Big week ahead for us.  We have in-laws visiting (and not a moment too soon!), and I've promised myself that I will (I swear it!) finally get this kid a birth certificate.  He'll need it in 35 years when he runs for president.

This and That

Consider yourself forewarned.  This is almost all about pregnancy and baby crap.

1.  I think that being knocked up is simultaneously more of a big deal and less of a big deal than I thought it would be.  Sometimes I'm all "whatev" and feel completely normal and even forget that I'm pregnant.  Other times I wonder how this lung-crushing, sleep-destroying fetus is going to make his way out of me, and one of two things happens: either my eyes get really big and then I just change the subject and eat a grilled cheese, or I cry.  Going to have to face that reality soon, I suppose.

2.  Nursery is nearing completion.  We've got a crib, shelves, curtains that are no longer strangulation hazards (at least I don't think they are), and things are slowly coming together.  I can't wait to show it to you!

3.  So, I currently weigh three pounds more than I did at my first doctor's appointment in August, which I think is a huge giant accomplishment (granted, I was 8 weeks pregnant at that appointment and had spent the month before that inhaling grilled cheese sandwiches and orange juice, so I may have actually gained more weight since actually becoming with child, but I don't know because we don't own a scale).  It's good for me not to gain too much weight because I started from a place of way too fat.  Remember Operation: Skinny Unicorn?  Yeah, that was a bust, or, rather, it devolved into Operation: Drink as Much Wine and as Many Margaritas as Possible before You Can't Anymore, which may have resulted in some additional poundage.  I have a secret goal to use this whole baby-growing process as a way to lose weight.  We'll see.  Come spring, my body will be torn to shreds, but I'll be skinnier, dammit!

4.  I already talked about my hypocrisy with 4-d ultrasound photos.  I've taken it a step farther, though, by analyzing the crap out of that picture.  Do you think the baby looks like Jordan?  Or am I just bananas?

5.  Is this is best baby shower invite you've ever seen in your life or what?  Also, how do you feel about a Teen Mom theme for a baby shower?  You know, Ed Hardy clothes and candy cigarettes?  Nevermind, that's a terrible idea.

6.  I had a dream last night that I shaved my legs.  Ha!  Yeah, like that would happen.  Plus, I'm not sure that I could even do that anymore.

7.  Oh yeah, totes gave my stomach bug plague to Matt, who in turn gave me his cold.  We're not usually such a sickly bunch, and it's been a little bit on the miserable side (except for the popsicles!).  We just keep telling ourselves, "better now than in a few months."

Well, there you have it.  I would take a little "here's how fat I am now" picture for you, but I'm covered in dirt and dressed like a cross between one of those people on those "customers of Wal-Mart" email forwards and Pete from O Brother, Where Art Thou?.  (Too bad I can't r-u-n-n-o-f-t since I can hardly get off of the couch.  Stupid limited mobility.)  I've got big plans for today.  They include George Clooney, a shower, probably a spicy chicken sandwich, and some Downton Abbey.

What are you up to?

Two Down, One to Go

Today I am 28 weeks, which means that I'm officially in the third trimester.  So far I think I've been a little bit of a rock star of a knocked-up gal (excepting, of course, The Great Meltdown of December 30-31, 2011).  I've been exercising and eating better than I did before and not been the incarnate of Satan that Matt and I both feared that I would become in this condition.  Plus, I can still totally touch my palms to the ground from a standing position, so I'm proud of that.  

And tell me that these aren't just the cutest things you ever did see.  (Matt says I'm not allowed to try to put one on Mitch.  I say I wouldn't do that, duh, because there's no spot for a tail.  Plus, Mitch is housebroken.  Of course, it would be pretty cute.  Get me the scissors!)

I love everything in this picture.

  

There's so much to be excited about (meeting the boy, decorating a nursery), and so much to be annoyed by (seriously, strangers and students, do not touch me) or afraid of (for real though, I have to push what out of where?), and so much to be fascinated by (the boy can see light now--let the flashlight games commence!).  And after I rock the socks off of my glucose test on Monday, I'm going to go on an all cookies and cake and ice cream diet, which should definitely do its part to keep the baby (and me) from getting too gargantuan.  I'm basically a nutritionist.  

Oh, and on a related note, people are suddenly all interested in how fat I am, so here's a picture that I took in a mirror.  

Happy now?

Also, why is it so funny to do this?

Random person [who is probably about to try to touch me]: Oh, I didn't know you were pregnant!  When are you due?

Me: I'm not pregnant.  What makes you say that?

So funny I can't stand it.  

Movie Star

If you're interested, check out the little video of Blast from this week's appointment.  He starts opening his mouth around 1:40, which is my favorite.  Oh, and he's still a boy.  No Rachel situation here.



And if you're so inclined, check out his rabies-afflicted big brother barking at his bone on the bed.



Are you totally judging me for being the person who just put a video of her ultrasound on the internet?  Yeah, I kind of am, too.  In my defense, though. . .oh shoot, I've got nothing.  If I can't get drunk or ride roller coasters, though, I've got to do something to entertain myself.

Does This Mean I Have to Eat a Lamppost?

He's singin' in the. . .

. . .amniotic fluid.  

Human Reproduction

Oh, internet.  We've totally been holding out on you.

This spring, Matt and I are going to have a human.  A giant, giant, hot dog and macaroni and cheese eating human.  Well, we'll both have it in terms of ownership.  I'm the one who actually has to birth it have it, though.  (Cue freaked out face.)

For real.  I know.  I can hardly believe it, either.

But check out the inside of my uterus.  Here's our little Blast (short for blastocyst, which it really is no longer, but we like the moniker).

We're super excited about our little spawn.  Our first-born is less excited, but he'll come around.

Freaky, huh?

*Offspring who is reading this far, far in the future: guess I have to start being a little more careful about what I post on here now, huh?

Hello, Biological Clock. It's Interesting Meeting You Here.

I have rabies.

Baby rabies.*

I don't really know what happened, or how it happened, or what.  It started like this.  This summer there was much talk of my sister coming to live with us.  Our willingness and eagerness to have her come live here, though, wasn't to fulfill any inner desire to parent; instead it was to help her escape the throes of living with our psycho bitch of a mother and her asshole husband.  But Chloe didn't end up coming here (long story; it's not ideal, but it's better than where she was), and somehow that fight, that horribly emotionally taxing struggle, unearthed in Matt and me a desire to procreate.

What the hell?

It sure did, and we haven't looked back yet.  (Bud don't worry, there will be no baby Felds for some time.  But last night I talked to Becky about names, and she pointed out that I could give a kid the intials WTF, which made me want to have a baby tomorrow.  Winnie Trudy?  Wynn Thelma?  William Theodore?)  And now I find myself doing and saying things that are completely unrecognizable and out of character.  I'm interested in topics that would have made me want to puke all over myself just a few months ago, and I'll spit stuff out in conversation like "Well, when we have a baby. . ."  It's a lot like being possessed by a demon, I believe (even though, to the best of my knowledge, I've never been possessed by a demon.  Unless you want to count Parrot Bay.). 

One way that I knew that I'd completely lost my mind was that I was giddy about buying baby clothes this week.  (Not for me or any future Felds.  I'm not that crazy.  They are for Iris and Opal's new sister, June, who will be arriving in November.)  I don't even like baby clothes--at least I didn't like baby clothes before.**  But since I'm now possessed by a demon, everything's changed.  So this weekend, while shopping for Baby June, I gave all of my money to the Gap. 

But can you blame me?

(Gap had 40% off of all of the clearance items in the kid sections, so I actually got all of this stuff for $45.  There was also a three-pack of white long-sleeved onesies that I forgot to photograph.)

Well, I should go research cloth diapers or how to make homemade baby food or whatever else this damned demon inside me wants to do.  While I'm doing that I'll look around for the Mandy of years past. 

Happy week to you!


*Thanks again for the term, Carly.


**Now, there is one exception to this particular stance, which is Baby Gap and Gap Kids clothes, which strike a beautiful marriage between adult styles and kid design.  Basically, I want to dress myself in Gap Kids clothes.

Adventures in Babysitting

Yesterday I babysat.

Yep.

Me.

I babysat.

Me, Mandy.  The same Mandy who's spent the better part of a decade saying things like "If you just shake that baby it'll stop crying"* and "Can't you give her some NyQuil?"** in order to prevent anyone from even thinking about asking her to babysit. 

Our friends had asked if we (well, I, because Matt was celebrating his Christmas since yesterday was the first Sunday of NFL football) could watch their two girls for a few hours yesterday.  (I'd previously offered.  I really like their kids.)  And then I thought, "Hell, I might as well get Iris and Opal over here for an afternoon of girl fun."  This was my moment of genius, by the way, because if there's one thing I remember about my glory days of babysittting (hey, thanks, family, for spitting out 200 babies when I was fifteen), it's that four kids are easier to watch than one or two, because they'll entertain each other.

(I also had a little bit of an ulterior motive.  Watching a 7, 4, 3, and 2-year old, I decided, would either make or break my pro-babyness.  This was a test.)

So there were four girls, and me.  This shouldn't have been intimidating or scary.  I am a teacher, after all.  I teach something like 90 kids every day, so the thought of four very cute and sweet girls coming to my house for two or three hours shouldn't have freaked me out.  But it did.  It did because I didn't just want to be a babysitter.  I wanted to be the BEST babysitter.

Enter Target.  I shot over to my home away from home, and began to maniacally throw stuff into the cart.   Usually, I'm so restrained when I'm shopping, and I walk around and pour over each little silly purchase.  Not yesterday.  Yesterday I just walked up and down the arts and crafts aisles, grabbing things that looked fun.  It was like an episode of Supermarket Sweep.

And here's what I ended up with.

Glitter glue.  I did debate with  myself over the glitter glue.  Need or want?  Finally, I had to do what I always do in these situations.  I asked myself, "Will this glitter glue make me $4.44 happy?"  The answer?  Yes, of course it will. 

I also picked up sidewalk chalk, and had a brief moment of awesome when I realized that we could use the chalk on the Lagoon floor.  Hells yeah!

So the girls got here, and the fun commenced.  We made glitter glue collages.  We played Play-Doh and mixed the colors.  Opal pet Mitch.  We drew on the Lagoon floor with sidewalk chalk.  We made JMU cupcakes.  They played hide-and-seek while I cleaned up after the cupcakery (by the way, baking is messy when I am doing it by myself; it's insanely messy when I do it with four little ones--totally worth it, though.)

The little ladies, tired from all of the running, finally asked if I had On Demand.  (So mad that I didn't have On Demand when I was a kid.  All we had to watch were VHS tapes of Super Ted and some episode of Scooby Doo that Jordan had recorded.)  They watched Care Bears (because the show is so annoying that their parents won't let them watch it at home) and I popped popcorn.  And while they watched the show, I dipped popcorn into cake batter and thought to myself, "Yeah, I could do this.  No problem."


*That's a joke.  A bad, horrible, very funny and distasteful joke.  Don't shake babies because if you do they might die.

**Also a joke.  Don't give NyQuil to babies because they will get drunk, or sick, or something.  I haven't ever actually given NyQuil to a baby, so I'm not quite sure what would happen, but I'm sure it would be bad.

***And then the oven broke.  So really we made cupcake batter. I might have been able to get it to work, but I thought better of pumping my kitchen full of gas and then lighting matches when I had a house full of other people's kids.

Love and Marriage

A conversation that took place after Matt took a very long time to wrap up leftover pizza, realizing finally that foil is much better than parchment paper for such a task.

Me: I'm not having a child with you. I'd be all "Okay, you change his diaper" and you'd be all, "Blargh! Ack! How do I do this? Can I wrap him in parchment paper?"


Matt: Whatever. You would lose it. Different strengths, Mandy. You're absent-minded and I'm bad at shapes.

Me: I wouldn't lose it. Not at first anyway. They don't go anywhere at first. . .Oh, but I guess I could set it down somewhere and then forget where.

Matt: Yeah, like on top of the car.

 

Cream Cheese Poundcake

Here's why life's been awesome lately:

1. I had the smoothest, most lovely first week of school yet.  It was so good, in fact, that I'm left with that "waiting for the other shoe to drop" feeling.  Hopefully that other shoe stays waaaaay up in the air.  And hopefully my little baby ninth graders stay as sweet as they were this week (there is a zero percent chance of that happening) and hopefully my eleventh graders don't knock me off of the pro-baby wagon. 
2. Speaking of the pro-baby wagon, Matt and I have been ridin' it for 28 days now.  Like being possessed by the devil, I tell you.  I'd also be a damned liar if I didn't admit to having fantasized about: decorating a nursery, naming a little girl an old lady name, watching Matt be an awesome dad, and teaching a little human how to be completely awesome.  I'm less excited about: being pregnant, spending all of our extra money on that little person with the old person name, not being able to pay as much attention to Mitch, getting even more fat than I already am, and not being able to take naps whenever I want.
3. Speaking of naps, I took a 5-hour one on Thursday night.  That's right, lest we forget, Mandy is the world champion of nap-taking.  What was even more impressive was that, upon waking from that 5-hour nap, I took a shower (which I hardly ever do) and graded a big stack of papers.  My productivity the night before made for an easy day at school on Friday.
4. Speaking of school on Friday, it was the best ever--not because I got to read "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" with my juniors (because I hate the Puritans more than I hate Ashlee Simpson), but because we got FREE CHICK-FIL-A!  I don't know why we got free sandwiches, but there's nothing like some free chicken sandwiches to make an already good day even better.
5. And speaking of delicious food, when I got home on Friday, I made a cream cheese poundcake. I didn't even know that was a thing until one of the women at work requested that I make one. So I set out for a recipe, and went to town. (Well, I didn't really go to town so much as I went to Publix, and then went back to my glorious happy kitchen to do some baking.) Check it out.

(Notice the gorgeous Amish Butterprint bowls.  They're not only beautiful, but better because of the little spout things.  Made for a better baking experience.)

(From what I understood, I needed to fill the pan to be very full because there were no leavening agents in the batter.  I may have gone a little wild with this instruction.)

(See?  And it gets worse.)

(Oh well.  More crispy pieces for me to eat.)

(What I really want to do is to pan-fry this piece of cake in some butter and then eat it with Thomas Jefferson's Vanilla Ice Cream.  I also want my jeans to continue to fit, so I guess I'll pass on that idea.)
Cream Cheese Poundcake (adapted from this recipe)

Ingredients
1 1/2 cups butter
1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese
2 cups white sugar
2 tablespoons vanilla extract (I used vanilla bean paste)
6 eggs
3 cups cake flour

Directions
1.Preheat oven to 325 degrees F (165 degrees C). Grease one 10 inch tube pan.
2.Cream together the butter, cream cheese, and sugar until light. Stir in the vanilla extract. Add the flour and the eggs alternately, beginning and ending with the flour. Pour batter into the prepared pan.
3.Bake at 325 degrees F (165 degrees C) for 1 hour and 15 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

Enjoy the rest of this long weekend!