And so we spend another day living spontaneously and pretending we’re in back in college where Today! Just! Might! Bring! ANYTHING!!!!

That’s how we spent our weekend, and I can’t tell you how spontaneous and doting Matt was. He bathed the dog, hung curtain hardware (his least favorite task in the whole world), mowed the lawn, took me shopping and for water ice, took me out for pad thai, and suggested we rent the first two Twlight movies because “I’m interested in it since you’re so infatuated.” While we were in TJ Maxx, I suggested we pick up a gift for his coworker who has an upcoming baby shower, but he only wanted to do spontaneous things – not check things off a to-do list.

Then yesterday afternoon my sciatica was bothering me, so I flopped on the bed to spoon Berlin. Matt sat down with his guitar and played all of my favorite George Harrison songs over and over again until I ceased whispering “Again! Again!” He painted my toenails despite much guffawing, and he complimented me on the strange cream-of-every-kind-of-vegetable-imaginable-and-wild-rice-soup that I concocted. Soup for lunch on a 95 degree day.

As we were laying in bed last night, Matt’s first dog, Toby, was referenced, and I asked for a reminder on how Toby died. “He died of heat stroke.” And that’s when I remembered the tragic story and broke into hysterical tears at the thought of poor Toby getting so excited to see his owners arrive home from vacation that he wound himself up into such a mess he died of heat stroke. I was laying there weeping leaving Matt very confused with my spontaneous outbreak, but when he realized the extent of my hysterics, calmed me down and made a mental note to never ever bring up Toby’s death ever again. Just store that memory in the silent box in the back of his brain where he also keeps the death of the Crocodile Hunter – another devastation I cannot bear to relive.

I know that I must be nearly unbearable to reside with at this point, as I’d imagine most pregnant women within are within days of their due date (see above hysterics). But my best friend and lover has taken such good care of me these last few days, that I cannot complain about the nagging aches and pains, the endless waiting. He has stepped in to walk me through this crazy time of my life and to face my fears right beside me. I am reminded again just how lucky I am to have him, and likewise how important it is to protect my time with him. He is and always will be the most important person in my life, the love of my life, and my soulmate.

So thankyou, Matthew, for making this weekend, possibly our last weekend alone, so much fun. For caring for me and making me slump over in laughter.

And for being taller and hotter than Robert Pattinson.

After much finagling, I finally picked her up today, and was surprised to see she was blue after being listed as grey. 8% of men are colorblind, so I chalked it up to that, and proceeded to drive her home with the volume cranked. Since we’ll be listening to music on Marshall 11 with sleeping kids in the back seat.

Most people would want to try out all of the funky features and see how it performs at high speeds. Not me. The first priority I had was to pull out both my infant carseat and my convertible carseat and snap them in with every possible configuration. Two rear-facing, one front facing, side-by-side, and with space in between. This I did crammed into the backseat myself, at 8 months pregnant, with both doors shut because there was a thunderstorm and torrential downpour taking place at the same time.

Take this photo, and then imagine, if you will, my big fat white booty squished in there between the carseats pushing, pulling and groaning to make sure the seats were secure. FOR MY INVISIBLE CHILDREN’S SAFETY!

From Daily Daguerreotype

Quickest route to premature labor EVER.

Tomorrow I’m taking the car for an inspection to make sure that no disasters are hidden under the roof. After which I plan on flying to DC to square away this oil spill disaster, then on to Baghdad to get our troops out, and then to Africa to stop world hunger. While my physique would beg to differ, I have never been so efficient, so stream-lined, and so thorough as I am now, at 35 weeks pregnant.

Throughout the process of renovating our house I have come to the conclusion that I have a love affair with two things, fabrics and lights. I’m convinced they can completely change the mood of a room, or a house even. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, I really don’t know) both light fixtures and fabrics seem to be a get-what-you-pay-for kinda scenario. I’ve found that I fall head over heels for very expensive light fixtures and then need to spend days finding affordable versions of them, which inevitably wind up with logistical problems.

Our dining room pendant should have taken fifteen minutes to install, but because I fell in love with a fixture that was not meant to be hardwired to the ceiling, Matt had to work some serious magic to get it up there. Three hours and much rolling of eyes later, he installed a free (!) and lovely solution that I adore:

For the bathroom I searched high and low for just the right fixture, splurged a little on price, and then found it necessary for Matt to completely rebuild the wall behind it with spackle since the previous fixture took up far more space. But again I was tickled pink with how it turned out.

This morning Matt is busy wiring up lights that I picked out for the second floor. Before the drywall was installed, I asked him to completely rewire the lighting above our stairwell so that the hideously ugly track lighting could be switched over to a a flushmount and tasteful wall sconce. I found the sconce that I wanted, but once again, it would take some jerry-rigging to hardwire it into the wall and hide a hole in the fixture. In fact I need to spend a few hours this week finding a small brushed nickel knob to hide said hole. Because I can’t just make it easy, can I?

Once Matt finishes installing the fixtures upstairs, we’ll basically be done replacing lights throughout the house. And to keep my husband from walking out on me, I’ve decided to just stick with table lamps from now on.

Although then I might need him to add more outlets to the house.

I am sooooo excited about this article (the second newspaper article I’ve been interviewed for… EVER!) because I really enjoy reading this health reporter’s columns as she’s very fair and balanced. And I think we could all use a bit more health reporting that is balanced. Something along the lines of OMG! SWINE FLU = THE APOCALYPSE!

Plus I love that she’s bringing attention to midwifery – a subject that sadly very few women know anything about. I know that I personally knew nothing about midwifery until I started doing my own research because it’s just not in the public eye.

At any rate, this is all falling on the week that we returned from a fun trip to the East Coast. Meaning I had no food in the house and the house was a mess. We had just finished painting the kitchen floor, so the kitchen was ripped apart. And the drywall for the upstairs gets delivered tomorrow morning with the crew right behind ready to start working. Tomorrow morning Matt has his board certification exam, which is just a tiny little bit important. Meaning if he passes he gets a nice fat raise. And the letters behind his name will now say “M.A.  B.C.B.A.”

Then we’ve got Matt’s climbing buddy coming in from Massachusetts on Saturday to go rock climbing for the weekend, and my mom arrives on Monday morning to hang out with me for a week. Which means I will frantically clean every nook and cranny of my house only to have her arrive and clean it all much better than I did the first time. And I will love and adore her for it.

And somewhere in there, I need to finish the nursery because the photographer from The Tennessean will be coming by to take a picture. Of me. At seven months pregnant and heavy enough to be a mean and competitive contestant on The Biggest Loser.

Strangely enough, all of this hectic activity is actually really good for me. I work best under tight deadlines, and frankly get a rush from anything that feels a little bit like a high school theatrical production.

But if I completely crash and forget to pick my mom up from the airport on Monday morning, can someone please tell her it was all because I opened my big fat mouth? She’ll roll her eyes and understand.

It was a late night – Matt accidentally downloaded a bad file that sent trojan viruses through the computer, which I stayed up late trying to repair. I think all is well now, but I will not be surprised if a window pops up with an African-American basketball player rapping about my credit score – I’ve already seen him once today.

When I did finally lie down for the night, Pendragon wouldn’t stop squirming around. Overall she’s a pretty mellow chica, but last night she was wide awake. There really must be something to the “sleep when the baby is sleeping” since she really, honestly kept me awake. Downside is I’m fairly certain “the baby” hasn’t slept in 24 hours.

I was up early to go to a friends house for a women’s prayer group and got absolutely lost on my way over there. So much for going into it “totally knowing how to get there.” I was calling her every five minutes for directions which seriously inhibited my driving as I’m not good at multi-tasking while driving a manual yet. I kissed the sky that I was in Tennessee as Mass drivers would have slaughtered me with my erratic behavior.

Overall it feels like a day that is challenging me to stay posicore. Just as I was about to kick the cat out of frustration, Matt texted me saying  ”Extra fun surprise coming!!” When I inquired further he responded, “Special treat.”

Instantly, out of nowhere, my mind ran to “I hope he’s won $250,000.” I’m not sure why that figure came to mind, or how exactly Matt would have won that sum of money, but that’s what I thought.

I’d also settle for a bouquet of flowers.

OR A WHOLE BOTTLE OF PINO GRIGIO ALL TO MYSELF.

Whaddya think it is? Bets and/or affirmations of the wine/$250,000 theories are welcome in the comments.

I caught a stomach bug that was goin around, and I’m pleased to say that it gave the Hof and I some good preparatory experience for what I’d imagine D-day will entail: multiple calls to the midwife (who was kind enough to coach us through my stomach bug in the midst of delivering babies), many, many clean towels, and my exclamation to everyone I was wheeled past in the hospital that “I’M TWENTY NINE WEEKS PREGNANT!” for fear they would inject me with some drug unsafe for my daughter in utero.

You hear these horror stories of people who were given a drug they were allergic to because their emergency medical band fell off, or a dosage gone wrong because the nurse was overworked, underpaid, and just needed a vacation forheavensake! Well I was determined not to be one of those people and questioned everything that went into my IV – what would the side effects be and um, hi, but my face is tingling, just as an FYI. At one point, when I reminded the nurse that “I’M TWENTY NINE WEEKS PREGNANT! And is this safe for the baby?” she responded with a snarky, “the doctor wouldn’t have prescribed it if it wasn’t safe for the baby.”

So that’s when I just shut up, told her she had gorgeous hair, and turned on the tele to watch Ben Harper on Austin City Limits. About five minutes after that miracle-working hydrating IV, I was ranting to Matt about how STUPID Reliant K was, how Ben was just letting it all go to pot, and myohmy how I LOVE THIS IV!

The whole ordeal was really rather comical (aside from the moments when I really feared my daughter was in danger), and we had a stupendous weekend with family although it was cut short. My biggest regret? Not being able to eat my sister’s slow-roasted Chicago beefs. I cut all of that meat the day beforehand and didn’t even get to taste it!

Now that we’re home, my system is slowly returning to normal. And frankly, as I head off to the grocery store today to fill our empty fridge, I look forward to doing so with a non-existant appetite – something I haven’t experienced in seven months. You really can’t imagine how nice it will be to walk past the bakery and not fight with myself over whether or not I need to buy five chocolate cakes… one for each workday BECAUSE I WORK SO HARD!

I never posted on his actual birthday because I was busy doing things with him that are not at all birthday-like whereby increasing the intense contractions of my guilt complex by T to the fifty-fourth. But I’m moving on, because I’m chalking it all up to being twenty-eight weeks pregnant and unable to shave my legs without an entire team of assistants.

This weekend he’s going to be at a motorcycle safety training course which means that he can then get his motorcycle license and buy a bike – his birthday gift. I’m guessing opening that Target bag with SIX HANES UNDERSHIRTS! on his birthday was almost as cool as buying a new cruiser. That’s what I told myself when I purchased them for him.

So for Matt’s thirtieth birthday, here are thirty things you didn’t know about my husband. I’ll try not to embarrass him too much, but isn’t that kinda the point of turning thirty?

1. He seems to have a strong opinion about illegal immigration according to a phone call I overheard last night, although I couldn’t really tell you what his opinion IS.
2. It bothers him to do any work (such as reading) close to his eyes without taking off his glasses first.
3. He then stores his glasses perched on his neck and just under his chin.
4. Or he loses them on the coffee table under magazines and the newspaper.
5. Losing his glasses doesn’t seem to bother him, but the new high-end scratch-resistant lenses really DO bother him because they smudge so easily. He wishes he hadn’t sprung for the expensive lenses.
6. While he enjoyed the television show “Flashforward” when it first came out, he told me last night in bed that “we’ll never watch that show ‘Flashforward’ again because it’s scary and I don’t want you to have nightmares.” Awfully kind of him, if you ask me.
7. He has nearly the complete discography of Miles Davis but rarely listens to it. When we sit down to read in the evenings, he inevitably puts on Bill Evans.
8. I always ask him to make the mac and cheese because he actually makes it according to the instructions on the box. I always leave out the butter. No wonder his is much better than mine.
9. Watching “Wipeout” stresses him out because the contestants let their butts hang down when climbing sideways on the rock wall. This is, apparently, not the best way to rock climb. Something about center of gravity.
10. Most Ben Stiller movies stress him out because absurd things keep happening to Ben Stiller over and over again and he just can’t catch a break. This is Matt’s worst nightmare.
11. The only juice he really likes is orange juice.
12. His favorite beer is Corona with a fresh lime slice. But he also loves a Harpoon UFO.
13. His favorite wine is Spanish Quarter Cab Sauvignon.
14. He probably hasn’t done a load of laundry since we got married. Likewise, I haven’t taken out the trash once.
15. He is extremely easy to feed. Nearly every day I make his lunch and pack it in his lunch bag for him. He takes it out of the fridge the next morning and has no idea what is in there until he eats it at lunch time. He has yet to complain about this system.
16. He gets really recalcitrant when his hair gets too long and hangs in his face. It’s been like that for about a week now.
17. He would collapse into a pile of anxiety if I ever purchased him a different anti-perspirant.
18. He wears a size 13 shoe, but a bit smaller in rock climbing shoes.
19. His favorite color is orange.
20. He prefers water-based frozen treats to milk-based frozen treats.
21. As soon as Berlin hears his key in the front door each evening, her tail starts wagging. He is her favorite person.
22. He wants to live in Colorado someday.
23. He prefers the NKJV translation of the Bible.
24. He plays a five-string bass because he loves “having that low D.”
25. He thinks John Mayer is a good guitarist and will be very embarrassed that I’m writing that here.
26. He has been known to sacrifice huge things for me.
27. He loves better than anyone I’ve ever met.
28. He will make the world’s greatest father – this coming from the girl who currently HAS the world’s greatest father.
29. He’s extremely ticklish and does NOT find it amusing when people try to tickle him.
30. He’s six feet, three inches of absolutely delicious yummitude, and I’m excited to bury my face into his chest for the next thirty years of his life… and more.

This basically wraps up the birthday celebrations for the week, although we still have lots of crumbled lemon poppyseed cake in Tupperware in the kitchen… and that giftcard to go out to dinner. Just think, next year we’ll need a babysitter for that dinner date.

I love you, and happy birthday, babe.

I’m excited to try my hand at making baby food because 1) I love to cook, 2) I love to save money, and 3) I think I have no excuse not to. I have fourty hours a week that I’m not in an office, so my full-time job will be taking care of Penelope and managing our budget. And by saving money on things like diapers (by cloth diapering) and home-pureed carrot grossness (by making it myself), I’m going to be able to buy plane tickets to visit my family, thankyouverymuch. Also, really? Do you recommend I spend that time watching General Hospital instead? Because is it just me or has Jax not aged a day in the past ten years? THAT’S believable!

So I picked up the book to find out just how complicated this whole making-your-own-baby-food thing really is. About halfway through Super Baby Food the author mentions that an ice cube is the perfect size for one portion of smashed up frozen veggies or fruit, and you just might want to pick up some more ice cube trays.

And here’s where I need to confess a sin. Nearly every apartment we have lived in has had a few ice cube trays in the freezer when we arrived. And when we moved out I took them – every single one. I am swimming in ice cube trays. In fact I’ve never actually purchased one. Only when we moved to Nashville did I finally have a fridge with an icemaker. But even after Matt installed said icemaker, I stashed my ice cube trays in the pantry cabinet, because guys, YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN YOU’RE GOING TO NEED MORE ICE.

Just watch. Penny won’t want anything to do with food that doesn’t come in a Gerber screw-top jar. Something about karma?

From Daily Daguerreotype

1. It’s about time for the bathroom’s weekly cleaning, but I’m sorry… I’m too busy compulsively working on my 3 year old quilt to realize, care, or do anything about it.
2. There is still no door. Matt found five layers of paint on the door that he was painstakingly trying to strip using The Worst Chemicals Ever before we decided to spring for a heat gun to peel off the old paint. As strange as it may seem, the bathroom door is low on his priority list because he’s a notorious Project Finisher and wanted to complete the laundry room first to fill his deep internal void. At least this is what he claims. I have a feeling he is putting off the bathroom door until LOST is over to prevent me from inviting people over for weekly LOST parties. He claims I “chitchat” too much during the tv show when we watch it with other people. WHATEVER.
3. And then this one… a grody tennis ball sitting on the pedestal sink. Shall I zoom in for you?

From Daily Daguerreotype

Yes, a drooly, filthy once-bright-pink tennis ball. Anyone who has spent five minutes with Berlin has figured out that she is OBSESSED with fetch. It could be considered clinical… or just the “golden retriever” in her. So every time I’m in Target and they have tennis balls in the $1 section, I pick up a bag. Or two. Or two hundred.

Well they seem to get lost in the backyard frequently, so we’re always pulling out new balls for her to play with. But then out of the blue she’ll find an old ball, and it’s always at the most inopportune of times. Like this morning when she was up and ready to go outside at 6 am. Matt walked her over to the back door and opened her doggy door which she quickly bounded through. Five minutes later I got out of bed for my 911th trip to the bathroom, and who should come in to join me but Berlin with her dirty, stanky backyard find. Knowing full well that when I headed back to bed she would lay down next to me on her own bed and tear the ball to shreds leaving felt and rubber pieces all over the bedroom floor, I quickly confiscated the ball and placed it out of her reach… on the sink.

She was devastated and went back to her bed to pout. Until she found another ball out of reach under my dresser which kept her occupied for about an hour.

So is a nasty tennis ball sitting on our bathroom sink unusual? Not at all. Just stroll through our downstairs and you will find them everywhere. On top of bookshelves, the fireplace mantle, hidden in drawers. Inevitably when I go into labor and need to be packing up my hospital bag, instead I will be frantically running around the house collecting old tennis balls and sanitizing the surface they were sitting on because MY MOTHER WILL DIE AND KICK ME OUT OF THE FAMILY WHEN SHE SEES THESE!

Last visit to the midwife’s office was wonderful and exciting. We found out we were having a girl and got to watch Penny squirming on the ultrasound machine for a solid half hour. Matt was with me, and held my hand as I laid down and received my regular seasonal flu vaccine. At that visit I had planned on getting both vaccines, but after barely making it through the seasonal flu shot, I opted to get my H1N1 on my next visit which was scheduled well in advance so Matt could come with me.

Well, he wound up not being able to come today. February being a short month and Tennessee being snow-day happy, he had to squeeze in a couple extra hours today with a client, so I went alone. I’ve known for about a week and a half that I would be going alone and psyched myself up for it. As in, not sleeping a wink last night and walking into the office this morning shaking.

When I arrived Brandy took my blood pressure, and her eyes opened so wide I thought maybe SHE was going to pass out and suddenly I’d have to really pull myself together and give her mouth to mouth or something. She asked me to take the standard pee test to find out if I had preeclampsia. I told her I thought maybe my blood pressure was high because I was so nervous, but she wanted to opt on the safe side.

So I waited in the room for what felt like decades before the midwife and her midwife-in-training came in to see me. Before I could even say hello I blurted out, “Do I have preeclampsia?” Midwife Melissa smiled and assured me that I was fine, no preeclampsia, and that they’d try taking my blood pressure later in the appointment.

And that’s when I burst into tears and told her that I was so nervous about coming in and getting a shot by myself, that my husband couldn’t make it (and he’s the one who really wants me to get the swine flu vaccine anyways!), and that my car was in the shop so I’m driving this brand new loaner car from the dealer, and what if I passed out and crashed the loaner car on the way home?!

“You really don’t need to get the shot today. Why don’t you wait until your husband can come with you?”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’d like you to get the vaccine, but you’ll be fine if you put it off another four weeks. We have to do a blood draw at your next visit anyways, so we can get it all done at once. And you get another ultrasound at that visit, which will be fun! You’ll get to see your little girl again!”

This is where I kissed her on the mouth. We finished up all the routine stuff, and she re-took my blood pressure which wound up being perfectly fine, in fact a little on the low side of normal.

I really wanted to be brave enough to get that shot all by myself today. I’ve had my blood drawn before by myself, but the thing that freaks me out about the flu vaccine is that you can feel it in your arm long after you’ve had it done, unlike a blood draw. And for some reason, my physiological response to feeling that sting hours later is to get queasy all over again. But I wanted to overcome it. I wanted to make Matt proud of me, especially because he knows that despite what everyone says, I still don’t believe it’s necessary to have the silly vaccine, but I am willing to do it because it matters so much to him. I wanted to kick this fear in the crotch once and for all.

I have gone to so many midwife visits over the past few months, have been poked and prodded with needle after needle and haven’t passed out once. I have gotten so much better. But then days like today come along, and I feel like I’m back to square one with no improvements made.

I mean, what would you do if you were told you needed to go sky diving once a month to usher in world peace. You’d be scared spitless at the door of that plane, and the only thing stopping you from vomiting would be the sexy G.I. Joe character whose back you’d be strapped to for the free-fall. So you get a little less scared each month cause G.I. Joe makes you feel a wee mite safer. But then one day you have to jump alone. And you start crying and say to yourself, “WHY DO I NEED TO JUMP OUT OF A PLANE TO STOP ETHNIC CLEANSING?!” So the plane takes you safely back to the airport, and you drive home hating yourself because c’mon, what’s so scary about jumping out of a plane?! ALONE?! People do that all the time, right? A BABY COULD DO IT!

That’s basically what it feels like. And now, because of my big needle fail the whole world is going to die of swine flu.