Wednesday, June 30, 2010

You Don't Need to be Coy, Roy

I'm quite certain everyone's waiting on pins and needles to hear a status update about my basement reorganization. Because my life is damn exciting and lo! Y'all know this.

So I worked down there for hours on Saturday moving shit (did you know that I had every goddamn notebook from college? SO TRUE) (and all the books? I have so! many! books!) around, condensing, repacking out of disgusting cardboard and into plastic (waterproof!) tubs. Up and down the stairs, on and off throughout the day, putting in a good eight hours of Clearing Shit Out.

You know where the is going, right?

Of course you do. You're smart internet.

Sunday morning we went to "church" where I offered to hang with the teenagers at the last minute where we talked about the plot of "Saved" and how it correlated to "Ghandi" and WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT, I'M A GREAT INFLUENCE ON THOSE KIDS.

Anyway, so all I did was sit and talk. Yes? Yes. That's all. And drink water.

So imagine my surprise when I went to the bathroom before we left and...


There's no polite way to put this.

It was like my vagina had a raging head cold.

I've never lost my mucus plug before (and isn't 31 weeks a wee bit early to lose it?), apparently they magically disappeared. I bet they meditated and reached nirvana. That would explain their magical disappearance the previous two times.

But this? This isn't wasn't what the internets said it would look like. It was like a bad head cold and it was crying for a big dose of Robitussin. It was yellow and brown and red - so guess who was all OH MY HELL.

When we got home I double-checked (even though I made Aaron check it at "church" - I'm a loving, giving wife like that) and yep. Still head-cold-ish. So I called the doctor on call. Who said, and I quote, "Don't worry about it unless you start having contractions."

Fucking doctor jinxed me.

An hour later we were headed to the hospital and the nurse was all "Giiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrllll, you are having some con'trax'ions." Um, thanks.

And then when she checked downtown? "Boy howdy you are mucus-eeeee down there!"

Alrighty. Good to know I'm not losing my mind.

Four hours, two blown vessels and a fancy-pants plastic cup later I was released.

Everything is fine now. Or, at least, fine-ish. I'm still contracting, but I've been contracting through the whole pregnancy. Tomorrow I get my 89th progesterone shot (or 17th shot - po-tay-toe, poh-tah-toe) to keep baking this ornery baby.

Just a few more weeks. It feels like a battle between the uterus and the mind.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Just Waiting So Long

Yesterday, you turned six.

Six! Six! Darwin, the years are creeping up a bit too quickly on me. Six!

We had your birthday party at the community center on Saturday, complete with indoor swimming. What happened no more than 20 minutes into the party?

You cracked your head open. Again. To the bone.


So you got your third set of stitches in your head.

You were a trooper through the whole ordeal of leaving the party early and sitting in the hospital for over four hours. But you're very adamant that we do not have another party there again.

I totally agree.

You are still totally ornery. And totally loving.

My always-little-Buddhist, you love to tell me how much you love this life (yes, this life) and how you're gonna stay here forever. Okie dokie, works for me.

You're really looking forward to being a big brother, and love that you're the only family member who's gonna be a little brother and a big brother at the same time.


This is bittersweet, you getting so big. But you have promised to always be my baby no matter how old and how big you get.

And I'm holding you to that.

Happy birthday Darwin!

Thursday, June 17, 2010

One Drink Ain't Enough Jack, You Better Make it Three

Hey, internet, what's up with you?

Me? Oh, you know. I'm covered in sticky-icky filth from trying to clean the basement. And the three streams we have running through the area isn't as awesome as one would think: it's not at all refreshing. Aren't streams suppose to be refreshing? 'Cause the ones in my basement are not. Also, there's no place to hang a tire swing to jump in. It's a total bum situation.

It has come to my attention that Aaron and I are total lazy-asses and for the past ten years we've just willy-nilly chucked stuff in the basement. Turns out, having it stacked didn't help one damn bit.

But I did unearth about four baby outfits today. Of course, they were mixed with 4T sized clothing so if you have the answer, please do feel free to explain that to me.

Tangent: Griffin and I made strawberry jam a few weeks ago. It has nothing to do with this post, but damn it is yummy and isn't it pretty?

Last weekend I worked on cleaning our bedroom to make space for the crib and changing table. I'm sure you can guess, but do you know what happened? Panic attacks. Full-fledged can't-breathe panic attacks. Do you know how hard it is to shove your face between your knees when you're 29 weeks pregnant and your toes are a distant memory?

At the rate I'm going, we're gonna have a baby in less than ten weeks (ohmyfuckingshittenweeks) and every room is gonna be torn up and not remotely put back together. I just know it.

Aaron, on the other hand, is waxing poetic over the potential happiness of his tomato plants. Do you think he has any clue how badly I want to knock his lights out?

Another panic-inducing situation:

Darwin lost his first tooth. It went from wiggly to out in less than 24 hours, and happened at the pool no less. He dove for it in the pool and caught it. "Because I have to have it for the tooth fairy!"

So, that's about it for me. How about you?

Tuesday, June 08, 2010

It's Just a Fantasy, It's Not the Real Thing

Internet, I would like to introduce you to my quilt top and back.

Oh, yes I did. I most certainly did. You bet your pants I finished the baby's quilt top and back before I finished making the baby.


And the back:

Ever notice my helpers are attention whores?

The quilt is headed to the quilter (the fabulous, amazing Angela is quilting it, squee!) on Thursday when we meet up for the Kansas City Modern Quilt Guild meeting. I realized I said I was gonna quilt it myself, but there are limitations to my awesomeness.

Surprising, I know.

Thursday, June 03, 2010

Maybe You're the Same as Me

I'm a big summer can go fuck itself believer. Or, at least, summer in Kansas.

Summer in other locations, I'm sure, can be perfectly lovely. Perhaps in those location I'd understand the love-fest but honestly? I am so done with summer already.

I get it. I'm probably being harsh. And unfair. But I don't appreciate itch crawly things sucking my blood. Nor do I appreciate having to spend the day inside to avoid a heat stroke. Nor lathing my kids with SPF spiked chemicals (sorry, I don't care what you use, there's stuff in there that you cannot pronounce). I don't appreciate humidity so bad it causes my asthma to flair up (let alone flair up while pregnant) and I don't like displaying my dimpled thighs to the stick-thin teenagers at the local pool. I don't like the summer colds the boys are currently battling, the lack of scheduling due to no school (yes, partially my fault for not keeping the boys on a crazy schedule but still) nor do I appreciate the mid-afternoon naps that result in me yelling at 10pm to GO TO BED ALREADY.

I don't like running the air conditioner so high that I can hear the motor running all over the house, nor do I appreciate the pollen that infests my house anytime I even consider opening a window. I hate how long it takes for the van to cool off while running errands and the sticky-in-the-ass feeling of trying to pull myself out of the driver's seat and onto the hot, hot pavement.

I hate seeing the hazy on the street as I drive through town and the little confidence building talk I have to give myself to even leave the house in the first place. I don't like having to check all the garden beds twice a day and potentially watering them, all because the Kansas heat is zapping the ever living life out of everything.

But, I do like the flowers. The flowers are lovely.