Tag Archives: pregnancy

Pregnancy and Tiny House


Two really big things have happened since I last wrote a blog post-I’m pregnant, and we’re under contract for our tiny house. ūüėÄ This pregnancy has been different from my previous two in almost every way imaginable, but despite a ton of votes for it being a girl-I’m not convinced. I’m not finding out, of course, until I HAVE the baby, because that’s just the most fun way to do a gender reveal, but I’m due in August (24 weeks yesterday) so it won’t be too much longer. Basic stats-I’ve gained about 12-15lbs and my fundal height is measuring about three weeks behind. According to ultrasound baby is right on schedule, and is a regular acrobat. I chose midwife care at a center here in El Paso and so far it has been fabulous-anytime something weird happens they are a text message away which has been very reassuring since this pregnancy has been bonkers. The boys have been super cute when it comes to my pregnancy, Cade talks about all the things he’ll tell and teach the baby, and Zane spent a good five minutes this morning patting my belly and saying, “wake up, baby!” and then giving my belly kisses. I am just so thrilled to be pregnant after almost two years of trying that even the annoying parts of pregnancy (like the morning sickness and fatigue and constant food aversions) make me smile.

And the tiny house. Oh, friends, I am bursting with excitement about our tiny house! We have been purging and downsizing and donating and LOVING IT! The tiny house is due around the same time as the baby, lol, maybe a little earlier. We contacted Rocky Mountain Tiny Houses in December, and since then have been finalizing plans, signing contracts, and waiting impatiently on the  SIPS and trailer to arrive. Today we confirmed more design choices including roofing, siding, and color options. The build officially starts this coming weekend! Eeeee!

I’ve joined several facebook groups on tiny house living as well as ones for fulltime RV living, and it’s been so neat to see how people make this work for them. The number of families-LARGE families (four or more kids) took me by surprise and has also given me a ton of creative ideas for making this move not just doable but enjoyable for the boys and baby 3. Most of what is reiterated-even when discussing difficulties and conflicts with tiny/RV living-is that the kids love it and adapt well, it’s the adults that generally struggle, lol.

It has been challenging negotiating the design with Brian. We are coming from two very different extremes-I’m more the “I want crazy stories of trying to cook over an open fire with one dented pot and a wooden spoon” type and he is very much a luxury driven gadget geek, “glamping” as opposed to camping, lol. Since living tiny will provide us plenty of crazy stories, and this will be the house we hopefully retire in, there are a lot of fancy things that I probably wouldn’t’ve thought to add if it had just been me designing it-but the end result is a blend that is a good representation of both of us and it just makes me so happy. There is something about building a house together (even though we aren’t doing the actual labor) that is like some weird physical representation of the relationship we’ve built with each other. The compromises and negotiations we’ve made along the way, the teasing at each other’s oddities and quirks, figuring out which things are truly important to us, and realizing sometimes we both like (or dislike) the same things but for totally different reasons-it’s like rediscovering all the things that made us fall in love in the first place. I know, I know, totally cheesy, but I blame some of that on the pregnancy hormones, haha.

ANYway, I do hope to continue this blog so I can update more about the pregnancy and tiny house as things go. As soon as I have pictures I will share, although most pictures of my day to day stay on Instagram. That’s all for now, I just wanted to get a post out there to get the writing juices flowing again. ūüôā


P.S. The outside of the tiny house will be purple. Purple purple. I. am. so. thrilled! Our tiny house is going to bring a whole new level of funky quirks to the RV park, lol.


Pregnant Mommy Brain


To the tune of “Matchmaker” from The Fiddler on the Roof.

“Wipe snatcher, wipe snatcher, snatch me a wipe!
At least three or four,
My poops getting ripe!
Unsnap my onsie and grab a fresh diap’
My buns are in need of a wipe!

For Papa, snatch out at least twenty
For Mama, just a few will be fine
For me, well, if we’re not talking diapers
I’ll snatch out the lot if I get the time!

Wipe snatcher, wipe snatcher, snatch me a wipe!
Make sure they’re warm
Cold is not my type
If you interrupt play I’ll put up a fight
You’d better be quick with the wipe!”

An oldie, but a goodie-to the tune of “Silver Bells”

“Soggy buns….soggy buns….it’s time to chaaange your diaper.

Wipe ’em down…..air ’em out….it’s time to change soggy buns!”

This is my brain on sleep deprivation and pregnancy hormones. I break out into random songs with substitute lyrics over just about everything. Cade attemped to stab a piece of zucchinni bread at lunch which inspired an impromptue verse of “What if I crumble” (What if I stumble-DC Talk)¬† and I realized I should probably write these down just to laugh at later.

We Got Lucky!…although Brian may want a second opinion.


I posted a few days ago about expecting our second child in September. The end of September. A day before my older sister’s birthday, to be exact. Anyways, I’ve been meaning to post the back story, so here goes.

Baby Numero Dos was a SURPRISE!

Brian and I were actually discussing the timing for a second child when, apparently, I was already pregnant. I’ll try to keep the TMI brief, but basically after weaning Caderade at the six month mark I didn’t have a period until December 22nd and it was…weird…so I didn’t know if it “counted.” Well, clearly it did.

By January I was pretty tired all day, every day, and was also having increasing trouble sleeping at night. I chalked some of it up to our early walker, as Cade was running around the house by 9 months old (and running into walls, tables, chairs, my legs, the dog…) and I spent a lot of my time chasing him, or picking him up after a spill and consoling him. He also figured out how to flush the toilet, get into the cabinets, pull Remus’s water dish on to himself, and try to eat the blinds. It was a busy month. Around the second¬†week of January I also started feeling a little….off. Kindof queasy. I developed a bit of a food aversion to beans and rice (a staple meal for Brian and I. We’re pretty boring eaters) and in general food was unappealing even though I felt chronically hungry.¬†By¬†mid February I finally decided¬†I should get my¬†thyroid and iron levels tested (I’ve been anemic before) because the fatigue was overwhelming. Right before I went to the walk in clinic it was like a light bulb went on in my brain and I realized I was over two weeks late for my period. I bought a pregnancy test and took it right away.

The line lit up like a neon light before I could even finish peeing on the stick.

Brian’s response: “Are you serious?” and then he shook his head and laughed in disbelief.

I would’ve figured it out soon afterwards, since after that the nausea ramped up into full blown morning sickness morning, noon, and night. I had to put Cade into a disposable in the morning for his daily poop because I truly could not stomach stripping his cloth diapers. I continued to take a morning nap when Cade went down for his, although he had a brief period where he decided he could skip his morning nap every other day. That was rough. Thankfully, he has since then gone back to a two nap schedule. I also put on weight rather rapidly, although being tall means I can hide my extra poundage with loose fitting clothing. I can no longer fit into any of my jeans, and the size 6 pair I used for my last pregnancy is already uncomfortably snug when I sit down. If I wear my normal, more form fitting clothing I can’t hide the small bump. In fact, I actually had to purchase a larger sized¬†empire waist dress for Brian’s ROTC Banquet the 1st of March because all of my dresses were too snug to keep the secret.

I had the dating ultrasound last Tuesday and the little booger was kicking and squirming like a wild thing at exactly 11 weeks and 2 days. The ultrasound tech commented on the amount of activity for so early in the pregnancy, but I am less surprised since Cade would only settle down when I would go for runs when I was pregnant with him.

So there you have it, my first pregnancy update with Baby 2.0. The nausea has thankfully subsided to mostly only in the evening and even then managable as long as I watch what I eat. I still can’t tolerate beans and rice, or thai-which makes me grumpy since I really really like thai- and I had a weird craving for sourcream that resulted in me dipping my spaghetti in a bowl of it (at the time, it was seriously the best thing I have ever tasted) but besides an increase in my affinity for pasta salad and olives the food stuff has remained pretty low key. Cade’s back in his cloth diapers and the morning one is manageable as long as I don’t breathe much, and I’m still tired all the time and having a hard time sleeping. All in all, normal pregnancy stuff. ūüôā

I’m excited that this baby may be born on my older sister’s birthday. What are the odds? Cade is born on my birthday, which is pretty darn cool to me, so how much more awesome would it be if his little brother or sister was born on¬†my sister’s birthday? My older sister said I now have to have two more children born on my brother and younger sister’s birthdays so they don’t feel left out, haha. Just don’t tell Brian… ūüėČ

OH! And I don’t think I want to find out the gender, like I did with Cade. Sorry (not really)… ūüôā ūüôā ūüôā

All About TMI


Pregnancy, in general, is TMI defying. It unavoidably makes people uncomfortable-either you (the pregnant one) or the people around you. As I hit the last leg of pregnancy the TMI just gets out of control.

One: Being pregnant means you’ve had sex. This doesn’t usually seem to weird out general strangers, but with family members it can be an uncomfortable reminder. Some prefer to believe their sisters and brothers and in-laws are asexual but pregnancy kind of forces it all out into the open, right there with your now protruding belly button.

Two: You (the pregnant one) are no longer in control of all of your bodily functions. From the gag reflux of first trimester to the incontinence of the third, you not only become horribly embarrassed by your bodies betrayal, but you also frequently embarrass those around you-especially when you develop squeaky walking farts as you waddle around in public places. Do they just ignore it? Do you? Should you try to make some equally awkward joke just to make sure everyone is thoroughly uncomfortable?

Three: Women, have no tact. They will ask you thinks like “Did you lose your mucus plug?” at restaurants. They will discuss episiotomies while slicing up their sandwich, or stop you in the mall to share their birth stories. They will do so in crowded public places, often with men around who easily blush or look increasingly queasy and you, the pregnant one, suddenly realize¬†why in the olden days women stayed in confinement until the baby was born.

Four: Women, when confronted with an obviously pregnant woman, develop diarrhea of the mouth and have to share EVERYTHING about their own birthing stories, or their children, or their second cousins, or whoever all the while giving you loads of advice, belittling anything you say with comments of “just you wait” or “enjoy it while you can” or “you have no idea.” This is uncontrollable, apparently. Pregnant women to other women are like castor oil to the bowels. And it is equally unpleasant. TMI, ladies, TMI.

***By the way, men who give ANY advice or insight into childbirth, breast feeding, or pregnancy should be shot on sight. Unless they are asked a SPECIFIC question (like, “which Boppy cover do you like best?) or are the OB doc, and even then they should tread lightly. Brian was in the room when they checked my cervix, afterwards I looked at him and said, “I don’t want to hear ANYTHING about ‘getting the finger’ again.” (Prostate check, for those who don’t know what I’m talking about)….aaaaaannnnd I probably just overshared there, sorry, TMI…****

Five: Because you have so little control of your bodily functions, are obsessed with the baby developing inside you and anything that could possibly go wrong, AND on top of that have pregnancy brain, you catch your self¬†sharing with¬†family members about such bodily functions, and then it spreads to friends, and then soon your blogging about it for all the world to see. This may still, regrettably, embarrass you once your wildly shifting mood swings have pulled you back into a somewhat saner mentality and you can’t believe you’ve just posted about your cervix on face book.

I am now officially 2 days past 40 weeks. This will hopefully be my last post while pregnant. Please pray I go into labor before the seventh (my induction date) because I’d really like to avoid being induced. :/

I’m Dreaming…of Conquering Swedish Countries?


Weird dreams are not all that unusual for me, in fact, they’re kind of par for the course. Every once in awhile I’d run a particularly complicated one past my older brother and have him amateur psycho-analyze it for me, great fun! I’ve been told pregnancy dreams are “vivid” and often “bizarre” so I happily clicked on over to the websites to see what kind of pregnancy dreams other people were having and what they could mean.

Most were centered around babies. This confused me. Why would having a dream involving a baby while pregnant be bizarre? Seems like the connection there is pretty obvious.

My dreams?

– I had a passionate interlude with a female vampire ghost. … I woke up laughing. I mean seriously? How does one even become a vampire ghost? Aren’t vampires already undead? So do they die twice? Or…if they die from being undead wouldn’t that make them alive? And although I say “passionate interlude” it wasn’t an erotic dream, I went about kissing the female vampire ghost very practically, like this is what one does when friends with vampire ghosts. And that was it. ???

– I orchestrated/observed the conquering of a country that was somehow “Swedish” in culture-although I really have no idea what that even means. The dream played out like a documentary and was very detailed. At one point I distinctly remember laying out battle plans on a map, at another point I was running over details for a political event/speech to encourage the take over, but I watched things happen from the sidelines. I did not fight in the battles, nor did I deliver the speeches.

-Weirdest of all…I haven’t dreamt! (I know, that means I’ve dreamt and finished my REM cycle and thus didn’t remember the dream, but that’s REALLY weird for me.)

About once a month I’ll have a dream that involves a baby. Dreams about everyday normal stuff with the baby, no anxiety or nightmares or weirdness. Usually just vague snippets of talking with the baby or walking the baby in a stroller. Not super exciting. Not very vivid or bizarre either.

I did dream about labor/post-delivery once, recently. And I had a boy. And then I was somewhere else getting dressed in pre-pregnancy clothes, went out and about with Brian, and then came back after an hour to the hospital to check on the baby. The baby was not in the NICU, just laying in the “crib” in the¬†hospital room,¬†but the whole sequence of events proceeded like it was perfectly normal to leave your newborn unattended straight after delivery and pick it up later like ordering a pizza. That doesn’t count as weird to me, that seems a pretty normal dream. Dreams don’t usually match reality, but it dealt with everyday boring stuff, nothing out of the ordinary. Pish. I stress out enough about post-delivery during the day, my brain was probably just telling me to knock it off.

So, all in all, not real impressed with “pregnancy dreams” as any more bizarre than my usual ones. Although the vampire ghost and the Swedish conquest were definitely up there with some of my stranger “out of nowhere” dreams.

Oh, and a side note. I think Brian is having cravings. Seriously. Besides my sweet tooth, which has actually faded in intensity a little bit, I’ve mostly just felt grumpy about eating anything (yay hormones!) like everything is unappealing so I shovel it down dutifully and grumble about it the whole time. Brian, on the other hand, has craved Japanese for the past month or so. I swear it’s the only place he wants to eat. Ever. We’ve now gone there on multiple occasions just the two of us (including today for lunch) and anytime his family wants to go out he tries his hardest to get everyone to go there, too. He tells me daily he “could really go for some Japanese.” So far I’ve managed to limit going with him to once a week. I love Japanese, but I just can’t eat it everyday.


In 20 more minutes it’ll be the 9th and I’ll be full term (37 weeks).¬†ūüôā

For those curious:

I’m pretty sure Potato has “dropped” or “engaged” or whatever.

I had an ultrasound last Tuesday (36 weeks) that measured Potato as 6lbs 12 oz, even though my fundal height is 4 cm small. Potato is also sunny side up, face towards my belly, back of head against my spine.

I’ve had some serious bouts of near panicky nesting followed by hours of lethargy.

—To that effect I’ve repacked my hospital bag 3 times, got the carseat installed and the stroller assembled, stocked all the changing stations (upstairs and downstairs), put sheets on the crib, got the monitor set up and in place, and purchased a few last minute stuff on my registry.

I’m 152lbs now and I don’t have stretch marks yet (gained 30-32lbs) but I do have that linea nigra thingie.

My heartburn disappeared almost overnight a few days ago.

I’m not swollen.

I had a killer calf cramp that has made me limp for 4 days. It still hurts some.

I think I may be having Braxton Hicks contractions. No, I don’t feel my belly tightening, but it’s so taut anyway I don’t know if I’d notice that. I AM having intermittent¬†crampyness both abdominal and back.

The force of my urine stream could probably power a smart car.


That’s all for now! I will say some of my “lethargy” when it comes to getting ready for Potato’s arrival is that I feel like there is no way I can get everything done, so what’s the point of trying? Yay for hormonal mood swings!



I’ve figured out why¬†my fundal height keeps¬†measuring small or just barely at normal for my last several weeks of OB appointments! Intially, I was right on the money, they whipped that measuring tape out, laid it down and were like, “You’re good.” Now, it takes them forever, and they fuss, and readjust it, and the hand holding the tape in my pelvic region creeps lower and lower every time (she REALLY needs to pay attention to where she’s mashing) as if they can somehow magically get the tape measure to read what they want¬†than everything will be ok. Sometimes I get measured by two different people. I’m gaining weight fine, and Potato still has PLENTY of room (judging by the frequent activity which has yet to slow down or get less intense, although Potato does sleep for longer stretches-thank goodness), but my uterus height just refuses to match up in centimeters to my appropriate week.

I took a good look in the mirror this morning (something I kind of avoid usually) and the lightbulb went on. EUREKA!

My uterus is sideways.

baby belly

It grew up and down and straight forward like normal (first figure in the picture) and then decided to expand HORIZONTALLY instead of vertically.

It is really weird looking, my hips are just as narrow as ever, but right above them I balloon out. Not fluff, it’s taut just like the rest of my belly, and Potato kicks in these little “pockets” especially when I’m laying¬†on my side. It used to look like someone put a giant egg directly on top of my stomach and just pulled the skin down over top of it. I still had a waist and little strips of “normal” on either side of the egg. Now my uterus is pretending it’s a flotation device and trying to wrap around my sides.

Really bizarre looking, but now at least I know why Potato is still apparently fine even if the OB nurses can’t get my measurement to look all perfect on my chart. I’m going to tell them next time that they’re doing it wrong, they need to measure sideways.

I’m 35 weeks today! Starting next week I have appointments every week (buh).

Nesting Overkill


So, maybe it’s not really a “thing,” this nesting business, but it does make sense for moms-to-be to seriously want to clean and purge right before baby’s arrival in an attempt to create the “perfect baby space” or, in my case, just get her act together enough to have a tiny headstart when it comes to the impending baby chaos.

Before today I wondered if maybe I was going a little crazy with the whole idea. You know, as I’m purging my crap for the ten bazillionth time and beginning to look at precious family heirlooms and wondering if anyone would notice if I gave¬†them to the Goodwill. Ok, maybe not that bad….but pretty close. I’m wondering if half the stuff I’m suddenly chucking over my shoulder going, “Don’t need, don’t need, don’t want, don’t use, don’t need, don’t like, don’t need…” I’m going to regret tossing. So far, though, that was the only indication I had gone slightly off the nesting deep end.

Until today.

I have a stomach bug. It’s gross. I was feeling “eh” this morning, so I went downstairs and helped the husband rearrange and clean out the downstairs space in anticipation of my glider (coming Friday!). I was beginning to feel a little woozy and drained, so we went upstairs to eat. We ate. I putzed around on the internet, feeling progressively worse. Laid on the bed for a few minutes as my gastrointestinal tract started some serious crampage. Husband said he was headed back downstairs. I followed, cramps be durned we had to get that downstairs ready!

A smart, reasonable person at 33 weeks pregnant would’ve stayed in bed. I apparently am not one of those people.

Cramps and nausea kick in full force, I admit defeat and stumble upstairs just in time to make it to the toilet. Feeling marginally better, but still crampy, I take a shower hoping the hot water will help. I realize the shower and tub¬†are in desperate need of a cleaning. Just as I turn the water off, I have a major cramp/hotflash and it’s a good thing I was already in the bathroom.

So far I’ve only had lower, um, issues, so after that round I get up, finish drying off, and, believe it or not, start scrubbing the shower.

My reasoning:

  • The shower is gross
  • I’m stuck in the bathroom
  • I can’t clean the toilet at the moment

So I start scrubbing, not surprising halfway through I have to stop. This time I utilize the trashcan as well as the toilet (sounds fun, right?) and there is a little voice in my brain going “Why the heck are you trying to scrub the tub right now?!” I ignore the voice, finish throwing up lunch, and then get back to scrubbing the tub.

The shower is now clean. Not my best¬† job, but a thousand times better than it was. I’m feeling still a bit queasy, and torn between pride at finally getting the shower¬†clean and disbelief that I scrubbed it while battling stomach cramps, diarrhea, and vomit.

There really might be something to this whole nesting thing, because I’m pretty sure if I HADN’T been pregnant I’d’ve stayed curled up on the bed in the first place.

Pushing Buttons


So, I admit, I have a “hot button” when it comes to pregnancy. I’m going to try and discuss it rationally and limit my number of All Caps, Bold font, and exclamation points, and here it is.

Brian and I have discussed, and agreed, that he will not be present in the delivery room for the birth of Potato. I do not like constantly defending our position on this, there’s a part of me that simply wants to say, “Back off. This is our pregnancy. Go have your own birth.” However, I understand that having husbands (or boyfriends) in the delivery room is a somewhat recent phenomenon and has taken on some weird almost political undertones. Here is an article I recently read that discusses the debate from somewhat of a middle ground. http://blogs.babble.com/being-pregnant/2011/10/26/debate-fathers-attending-labor-and-birth-of-their-babies/¬†

Here are our reasons for opting out of Brian being present, in no particular order.

First, I don’t want Brian there. Let me explain: our first “real” fight after getting married was over me nicking my leg shaving and Brian wanting to put superglue on it to seal the cut (superglue really does work wonders on small cuts, did you know that was it’s original design?). I said, “No. I’ll do it.” I let him, eventually, but not after discovering some pretty interesting things about each other. I have fractured and dislocated my elbow, I’ve sprained my ankle numerous times, I’ve gotten whiplash from landing on my head, I’ve sprained both wrists, my elbow, broken multiple toes, and pulled numerous muscles,¬†have had appendicitis, and recently pleurisy.¬†I’m a walking hazard and no stranger to pain. I have an intense dislike of others being witness to my pain, and an even¬†stronger dislike of being “coddled.” So in the most painful experience I’ve yet to experience (where I’m already going to be irritated at the medical staff for not letting me deliver the baby myself), I don’t want to argue with my husband over what I should do to make myself more comfortable. Secondly, Brian has no desire to be involved in the medical field whatsoever. It grosses him out. So I’m going to be spending half of my focus worrying about how he’s handling all the ick. Not cool. And not something I can control. He’s my husband, of COURSE I’m going to worry about him, and when I’m in the middle of pooping out a watermelon, I really don’t need that extra distraction. Yeah, yeah, “he can stay above the sheet” mhmm, and how many times has THAT flown out the window when the doctor demands the husband holds a leg because a nurse is off doing something else? Don’t even. Birth is unpredictable, there is no guarantee that Brian would not become far more involved than he ever wanted.

Second, Brian doesn’t want to be there and his feelings are absolutely valid. He has no interest in feeling Potato kick either. When I finally got him to tell me why he kept avoiding feeling Potato move his sheepish response was, “Feel a half developed baby through a layer of skin and muscle and uterus move? It’s kindof weird…” I reiterate, the medical field is out for Brian. I find it fascinating. But I found the first time I saw an open femur fracture fascinating, too.¬† Brian isn’t me. He’s completely weirded out. Is he going to be worried about me? Yes. Will being present and watching me in pain push out bodily fluids help him worry less? No. It’ll make him completely shut down and go into robot Brian mode. And hopefully not vomit. And don’t tell me, ever, that you know my husband better than I do. Will he bond with Potato? Yes. Will it be in an instanteous rush of tears and emotion? Um, highly doubtful. Maybe if he were high?¬†It will probably take months for him to bond, whatever that means,¬†and thats ok. In the meantime I have no doubt he will be an involved parent and continue to be an active and loving husband.

Third, it’s our decision, so, yes, back off. Couples have children with the father absent every year due to unavoidable circumstances (like deployment). Every pregnancy is different, every birth is different, and every gosh darn marriage is different. Do not tell me I am “doing it wrong” when we have been very happily married for almost 5 years now. Brian will drive me to the hospital and be there when I’m walking around between contractions, but once it’s go time-for the sake of both of our sanities-he’s going to wait outside. WE are completely at peace with our decision. And it is OUR decision. And Potato is not going to be any worse for it.


There. I feel better. Now, I have nothing against men being present in the delivery room, some guys love it! They describe it as powerful and moving and emotionally supercharged and just the most fantastic experience they’ve ever had. Other’s say it was awful and scary and distressing but they wouldn’t miss it for the world. Some wish to even catch their own child and/or cut the cord. Brian is not one of those people, and I, the wife and mother, am more than ok with that. I am not ok with the notion that Brian is somehow less of a father for not wanting to be present at the labor, or that I am some how denying him access to this experience. I am definitly not ok with anyone who isn’t Brian or I telling us one way or the other how we should or shouldn’t give birth to our child. If you have an opinion, keep it to yourself, and plan your own child’s birth.

If Brian suddenly changes his mind on the way to the hospital, we’ll see. I’m still not thrilled about the idea of¬†having him in there, but he’s my husband and if he really wants to we could probably figure out someway to make it work. I really really doubt he’ll change his mind though.

Oh, and don’t tell me “He did this to you, he should be there even if it makes him uncomfortable!” Mhmm. Revenge has no place in a marriage, EVER. And our child is not a product of revenge, nor will he/she be a point of revenge. Potato was conceived in love and will be delivered in love, with us MUTUALLY deciding on how that will happen. There will be no pointing fingers or blaming or yelling at each other, that’s not how Brian and I “do” marriage. If you prefer to keep scorecards in your relationships, go for it, let me know how that works for you.

Although, since Brian is putting together the music playlist for the delivery room, I did tell him if he plays the Rocky Theme song more than once I will murder him.


***Like the article I posted above mentions, there is one doctor who swears having¬†fathers in the delivery room make it worse. And there are others who swear fathers in the delivery room make it better. I swear that knowing your partner and making a decision together probably makes whatever option better. It’s not rocket science, here, people, and if being pregnant has taught me anything, it’s that “one size fits all” is a farce.



This post is all about baby stuff, so if you’re not in the mood, don’t read. Consider yourself warned. ūüôā

I’ve gotten various responses ranging from laughter and encouragement to outright disbelief when I tell people I don’t want to know the gender of Potato until birth. I get¬†almost entirely¬†disbelief when I then proceed to inform people that my husband DOES know the gender. From friends and family, mostly I get irritation at not being able to delve into gender specific baby gear. That’s ok, Potato and I are having a blast ūüėÄ

Here are basically just a list of onsies that I like, that aren’t gender specific. They’re out there people, you’ve just got to dig a little! I found all of these at www.cafepress.com.

Are These People Really My Relatives?

Someone Please Tell the Dog I am Not a Squeaky Toy

I Bite

Ich Spreche Gibberish¬† -C’mon, it’s in German!

What I Really Need Are Minions¬† -The child is half Brian’s, enough said.

I Do All My Own Stunts -Half my child = Plenty of ER visits for random traumatic injuries.

Statistically, I’m Cute¬† -One of my all time favorites

Macaroni and Cheese 

I Before E Except After C…Weird¬†-Grammer humor? Couldn’t resist.

RAWR means I love you in Dinosaur

Hold Me -Classic bad music pun

I think all of the ones I’ve listed come in kiwi green and/or white besides just the gender specific blue or pink.

In conclusion: Yes, it is harder to find gender neutral stuff since the baby industry has gone gender specific crazy, but NO it is not impossible. And seriously, why would you want everything gender specific? I hope to reuse at least the big items (like carseats, highchairs, furniture, infant toys, etc…) so why in the world waste money on everything in PINK just to turn around and have to re-buy everything in BLUE or vice versa?

In other news, the Tarheel’s Consignment Sale I went to with my older sister was awesome! Among other things, we split the cost of a toddler size electric train to keep at the grandparents. I want one that’s me sized, it’s that cool.

And I have a DIY project I just started tackling today. I already have blisters on one hand and a small stab wound on the other. If I manage to pull this first one off, I fear I will become addicted.

February Prep


I hate February. Every year I devise ways to get through the 28 (or occasionally 29) days of evil with varying success. My natural cheerfulness seems to be directly tied to the amount of sunlight during the day, so I normally start getting increasingly gloomy as daylight wanes in the fall and into the winter, and get increasingly peppy as the sun returns in Spring. This holds true even when working night shift.

One tried and true method to fight the blues for me, however, has always been exercise-usually in the form of running. Hence, my endevour to run the equivalent of a marathon in¬†5ks before the Potato’s grand entrance. Unfortunately, my last 5k will be this Saturday, and far from a run I’m hoping just to be able to finish WALKING it. I’ve got that lovely pelvic pain from those joint relaxing hormones that, I’m sorry to say, feels like someone is stabbing knives into my lady parts. TMI? I apologize, but it’s true. Completing the what-used-to-be-a-mile-walk with Remus has turned into a waddle halfway down the hill and encourage him to run the rest of the way down without me.

My husband, on the other hand, is still running all these “training runs” of 20+ miles with “shorter” runs of 10-15 miles in preperation for his crazy race schedule. He’s looking a lean, mean, running machine…and I’m 20lbs heavier than I have ever been in my entire life and appalled that my chest can actually rest on my stomach when I slouch. AHH!!!

So my usual season disgruntledness and my anticipated loathing of February has been in full swing, making me just a bundle of laughs and warm fuzzies. Potato has been kind enough to kick me out of my bad moods (Literally. I forget I feel gross and bloated when my little munchkin goes on an acrobatic spree, it’s just so neat!) but I’m far from cured and I don’t have my usual outlet to help bring on the endorphins so I’ve been mostly sitting around moping.

Well, not anymore! I just can’t stand being gloomy anymore, chalk it up to ADHD but I’m getting a little bored being a grump 24/7 and February is coming up fast. SO, since I can’t run, I grabbed the dinky 5 lb weights from downstairs and started a light upper body workout plus some wall sits for my legs. All within safe “pregnancy parameters”, but enough to get the blood flowing a little bit and kick in some feel good chemicals (I hope). Take that February! I’ve got a vacation scheduled smack in the middle of you and I’m going to be exercising whatever body part¬†I’m allowed to until this baby is born. You won’t bring me down this year.

¬†Honest to goodness, people talk about things they miss “being able to indulge in” due to being pregnant…I just can’t wait to run again! I’m strapping Potato into a carrier or stroller and we are going to spend some time enjoying the great outdoors at a brisk jog… It’d be nice to be able to put on my socks without a struggle, too, I’ll give you that one.

Anyone else dislike a specific month of the year? Anyone else actually like the month of February? (if so, what is wrong with you?!)


**I know¬†quite a few¬†people who are born in the month of February (including my 2 brother-in-laws) and I am VERY glad they were born and more than happy to celebrate their birthdays…but that doesn’t lessen my overall detestation of the month, sorry.