You are currently browsing the monthly archive for April 2009.
Plagiarized from an e-mail I sent my family because well, I’m saying the same damn thing. A lot.
Had a Dr. appt yesterday. I seem to be progressing little bit by little bit, but Loki seems to be quite content to stay where he is.
His heart is strong and happily beating away and from the ultrasound he is again, perfect. He’s rather long, but the rest of him is quite normal.
I go back in tomorrow so they can monitor and make sure that even though he’s late, he’s fine and I’m fine.
I lost 4 more pounds in the last week and am officially anemic. This weight loss thing is mighty nice.
I had a huge iron shot that gave me energy for, oh, about 2 hours then I crashed again. I have absolutely no energy. None. I need to stop and catch my breath after a few sentences.
Patti is cooking and feeding Sparky and I. It’s nice to have someone else do the cooking. Well, as I haven’t cooked since the pregnancy test came back positive, it’s nice to have a warm meal that didn’t include a tortilla. Sparky didn’t know what to do when she made burgers and he didn’t have to make himself a sandwich. Sparky has lived on cereal and sandwiches for almost a year.
Please keep your fingers crossed that he’s not born tomorrow, but rather the next day if he doesn’t make his appearance in the next 7 hours. And then he’s welcome whenever. He just had to miss the trifecta- Mom’s birthday, Hitler’s birthday and Mutti’s birthday. (This is like one of those Sesame Street exercises – one of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong. I’m just not sure which is which. )
Anyway, we’re all prepared over here. It’s just a freakin’ waiting game. It’s like the 25th Hour, but I just don’t know when my time is up. So frustrating.
My Aunt is here. She made it across the pond unscathed. I even kept her up until 10:30 pm last night so she’s not so dead today.
Loki on the other hand is still a no show, the damn contrary kid.
I told him this morning, after a particularly active night for him and thus me, if he doesn’t show up in the next day, I’m going to start taking away his toys. The sock monkey is the first to go. Then I’m moving on to the Barcelona Monster Auntie Mim bought for him when he was just a wee blastocyst. Then it’s the Ugly Dolls. Don’t make me move on to the Ugly Dolls.
My ear has gotten worse and the condition has moved on to my right ear making conversation almost impossible.
I can’t complain because again, this has been a very easy pregnancy after the first trimester. I can still see all the bones in my hands and feet – no swelling at all and I continue to lose weight. Seriously, how can I complain? Granted I’m now officially in the fourth trimester, but who’s counting. I’m uncomfortable all the time and would really like to move on to the next phase. As would my entire family and friend circle. We are all bored with the wait. Aren’t you?
I want to meet this contrary little kid. We have his name all picked out, but I’m telling you, if doesn’t come soon I’m changing it to Lucius Kain to reflect his personality a bit better than what we originally decided.
Come on, Loks. The sock monkey is pretty sweet.
Auntie Patricia is packing and like The Big Finn, I need my Crystal Light. She’s not so thrilled with the idea and I might have to give up the peanut butter. The horror!
Ok, I may have annoyed the bureauocrats at the passport agy but this will be what lands me in the “special exam” place
I’ll make this fast because I cannot sit upright and breathe at the same time – little baby feet in the lung problem – AND my ear is so bad that I can’t sit up without hearing my heartbeat and breath pound in my left ear. It has gotten to the point where I’m not talking to anyone because I simply can’t hear and I can’t speak because I can’t hear myself. This ear thing is driving me crazy.
Loki isn’t here, but after a very surprising Dr. appt yesterday, it “shouldn’t be long”. Let’s just say that Loki’s head was actually touched by Dr. G (through the placenta). Brings a whole new meaning to “it just slipped in.”
In other news, I’m a legal alien now. I got my permanent residency visa yesterday – no restrictions. Good thing because my temporary visa expired today. It literally took them 6 months to process my file. Now my child will not only be legitimate as Sparky and I managed to get married just in time (five-and-a-half years ago), I’m a documented immigrant.
My dear Aunt Patti is scheduled to arrive next Monday. If she doesn’t get lost in Terminal Five of Heathrow, that is. And if she does, it’s Sparky’s fault and He’ll have to go get her. I can’t wait. She’ll be here for a few weeks to help with Loki. She is a fabulous writer and I’m going to beg her to blog for me while I’m indisposed.
Tomorrow or later today I’ll go into a story about the artist who painted the fabulous paintings in Loki’s room. Her name is Loes and she is fantastic and there is a long and interesting story as to how I found her and her elephant bottoms and where you can find more of her artwork.
Gotta run before I stab myself in the ear.
Rather than bore you with words, I’ll bore with pictures until I have some news.
Do you hear that? Its the sound of crickets over here at the House of Flying Cats or Heisse Scheisse Central.
Nothing is happening.
All prep work is done. Baby room is complete. The rest of the house is in order. Laundry is done. Windows are sparkling. The basement hasn’t been cleaned out, but I’ve come to terms with that.
The suitcase is by the door. The infant seats are in the respective cars.
Groceries are purchased. Extra meals made and frozen. Cat litter stocked.
All three mammoth pregnancy/birth books read. Slightly smaller breastfeeding book has been read.
Midwife sessions finished. I know how to squat, but apparently I’m too lady-like. I need to spread my legs more (I’ve NEVER heard that before.) Baby care class completed. Sparky now knows how to change a doll’s diaper.
I can’t sit up anymore. I can’t sit in chairs because Loki’s feet press up into my lungs and I can’t breath. This is fine because I’m so freakin’ tired, all I want to do is sleep, but I’m so freakin’ big, I can’t find a position that doesn’t cause some body part to go numb.
Where is Loki throughout this? Didn’t I say that he and i had talked and there was an agreement that April 17th would be the day?
Either he doesn’t have a calendar in there or he forgot. Someone get this kid an iPhone. He can start tweeting about his life. “Kicked mom in the lung just now with a nice punch to the bladder.” “Mom’s talking again – Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah” “Why exactly do I want to leave?”
See I’m taking the high road and not accusing my unborn of malicious acts of stubbornness.
He’s just hanging out. Getting bigger and bigger. Kicking harder and harder. Getting bigger and bigger. Did I mention the bigness factor?
I’m as big as a whale. Good thing I have a bathtub built for a whale because my back hurts so bad, I’m in there more than not. I can’t turn over in bed without help. I can barely get out of bed without help. and the cats torment my nights by walking across my face. They know I can’t move fast enough to get them. And even if i could, I can’t bend to pick them up.
Loki. You have been warned. Come out or I’m coming in after you.
He lived to tell the tale and thus tradition has been carried forward.
When my Dad used that phrase with my mother, she had a less than favorable reaction. I think she might have thrown something. I get my terrific aim from her.
This is one of only two pregnancy photos I have allowed.
Yes, I am that pale. I live in Germany, what do you expect?
Loki’s room has finally been painted. They are finishing up right now.
Sparky and I could not decide on exactly what color cream we liked. Eight 1.5 litre samples later, we decided on a sea foam blue. It’s called Tibet. Go figure. Anyone want eight -1.5 litre buckets of different shades of off white? Our painter man finally got tired of delivering these 10 euro samples and sent us to his paint man. We walked in, picked out the color, ordered it in a 12 litre bucket and walked away. I saw it for the first time on the wall last night after the entire room was finished. We didn’t try it out, we just went with it after three months of back and forth. And it works. Again, whoda thunk?
In other news, Loki needs to stay where he is today. Today is my mother’s birthday. I found out I was pregnant on the day her mother died and I really don’t want to deal with the superstitious fallout. My grandmother’s name was Rosemary and you can imagine how my siblings would react.
Loki also needs to avoid these dates: April 20th – Hitler’s birthday and May 1st – Mother Mutti’s birthday.
Otherwise, I’ve been told jumping off kitchen chairs is a really good way to jump start labor.
Painting Update: They got the wrong color for the hallway last time. After painting half of the hall Sand, they realized it was supposed to be Pebble.
In honor of my mother, I’ll leave a bit of her advice:
Never fuck up your kids or your credit.
I’ve got the credit part down, Mom. I’ll work hard on the kid.
I had an odd dream last night.
Adam came to visit and with this visit he delivered a pizza to me and Sparky. It was an odd pizza with sesame seeds and corn. I thought it was really gross, who puts sesame seeds and corn on a pizza?
Then I heard a small little cry.
On the pizza was my brand new baby. Not a boy, but a little girl. A teeny tiny little girl. She was so tiny that she was only on one piece of the pre-sliced pizza and then only on the very tip.
I kept forgetting she was there and Sparky had to keep reminding me not to eat her.
Hello, Freud?
We had a great time with Adam, though.
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I talked to my sister yesterday. She finally explained why she doesn’t like the color pink.
It’s because she doesn’t think that pink should have it’s own color category. It should be considered light red or perhaps pastel red. That pink gets its own category when no other color gets such thoughtfulness really bothers her.
I understood.
Then we discussed which one of us has lost more organs via surgery.
We’re competitive like that.
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I think I might be the only mother in history to call her unborn a little fucker.
I’m so over being pregnant and I think Loki is too.
I used to play “I’m not invading your personal space” with him. I don’t do that anymore because he wins. I poke him in the belly and he pokes me in the bladder or the lung. Or the cervix or the ribs. He’s definitely got the advantage.
I knew reading him Sun Tzu in utero was perhaps a mistake. I just didn’t want to bore him with Baby Einstein.
I told Sparky this morning that I was either pregnant with Stewie or the dumbest kid in the world. He is either trying to kill me or just not clever enough to figure things out. I’m going with the clever.
The thing is, he keeps knocking his head on my cervix. Yes, I’ve started to efface, but he’s the one in control. If he wants out, knocking on heaven’s door ain’t going to do it. He needs to let go some of those other hormones and I’ll be more than happy to do the rest. But seriously, stop with the headbanging. ITS NOT WORKING. Give me a break.
I saw the OB last week. He says in the next week and a half. Looks like Lokster might be early. Well, relatively. How about just not late?
“So, what would you do if you walked in the house and the Czech porn star nanny was bent over, pulling up her hose? And she was wearing a short skirt?”
If you’re married or in a long term relationship, you might recognize this.
Its called a trap.
Through no fault of his own, Sparky found himself stuck in a hypothetical situation – Loki has a former Czech porn star as a nanny and Sparky is to answer my questions as to how he would handle specific, albeit HIGHLY unlikely scenarios. Why I would agree to HIRE a former porn star for a nanny was never addressed, but needless to say, this was a trap I laid for Sparky and questioning such a hypothetical situation is an advanced skill.
Add to his peril, this conversation took place after midnight, on vacation, when he was so tired I could see his eyes rolling in his head. I wasn’t tired. I was thinking about Nannies.
He did such a good job that by the end of the conversation I realized that I’m going to have to work harder next time. My skills have weakened. He answered my questions seriously, correctly and with what he hoped was a thoughtfulness that convinced me that if we should employ a Czech porn star nanny, I will feel safe and secure in our relationship and not worry that I’m going to come home to some “Hand that Rocks the Cradle” scene.
I have to say, Sparky traversed this craggy crossing like an old Sherpa. Even when I asked, “What if you’re masturbating and she walks in and offers to help you”, he avoided danger. Seriously, how do you answer that question to your 9 month pregnant wife? Very, very carefully. I can’t remember what he said, but it made me laugh and was thus forgotten.
And no, we are not hiring a former Czech porn star nanny.
This is how our weekend went. It was charmed.
We spent the entire weekend with Tilman at his place in the south. Tilman spent the weekend cooking and hosting us as if we were royalty. He chauffeured us into Basel both days for fantastic food and views and shopping. Not to mention books and music.
T lives in this sleepy little village of farms and barns. We woke up every morning to the sounds of chickens, tractors and church bells. It was idyllic. Sparky, my boy from the willage, wanted to spend a couple of weeks there, remembering how wonderful his childhood was in a village. I could tell he just wanted to jump on his bike with two friends and explore the hillsides. So different from the BART/city explorations of my childhood.
I was feeling fat and extremely unattractive. Between my ear issues and my lack of lung power, I felt like an invalid, unable to keep up. But you know, those men, they squired me around, made sure I could, in fact, breathe and was comfortable and then they proceed to complement and cosset me all day and night. I’ll tell you, that Tilda Swinton knows what she’s doing.
So what can I say? I’m living a charmed life. Oh don’t get me wrong. I’m still going to complain, but as last weekend was our last weekend away sans child, it was remarkably wonderful.
