In which I wallow and give too much personal information

Did you read the title? That was your only warning.

So, I'm 26 1/2 weeks pregnant. That pretty much means that I'm living out the last of what every pregnancy book/blog/website or woman who has conceived a child tells me is that last 1/2 week of comfort before I explode into my own personal Hindenburg of 3rd trimesterness. (That reference is related both to size and gaseousness.)

I know I'm supposed to be a glowing, joyful, rosy-cheeked, basketball smugglin' mama-to-be, but sometimes I just feel like I'm reliving puberty. I get mad over little things (I'll save the tannenbaum saga for another day), cry over everything (especially that d*mn "Dear Sophie Lee" GMail commercial), my clothes don't fit right, and I'm breaking out so much that I hid my magnification make-up mirror.  (Which now I can't find. Grr. See? Mad over another little thing.)  More than that, I'm feeling pretty lonely which is really ironic considering I'm packin' a kickboxing Peanut 24/7.

Isn't feeling lonely the pits?  Worst of all is feeling sorry for your lonely self, but not feeling up to making plans. I know I could call someone or hop in the car and visit a friend or family member, but wallowing seems to be my action of choice. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

The truth is that I thought I had plans tonight, but there was a miscommunication leaving me chillin' solo. (Note: Chillin' solo sounds like fun. I'm contemplating cleaning the bathroom to keep busy.)  I suppose this is enough self-pity to last for some time, so I'll digress into a happy tale from not so long ago.

Late July: (Please imagine a Zach Morris-esque fade out to a booth in Panera)
Me: I don't get it.  I've been eating right, working out, and drinking buckets of hose water.  Why is my weight plateauing?
BFF Amanda: Maybe you're pregnant.
Me: . . . (Internal monologue: What? Is that possible? Nobody gets a bun in the oven that fast! Should I buy a pregnancy test? While I'm at it should I get some prenatal vitamins? No! I'd be jinxing us if I spent money thinking that I was already pregnanct. I did have that piece of cake last week.  That's the problem with the weight plateau.  Oh yeah. And the cake was chocolate, so I know it is doing its cakey duty and hanging onto my thighs for 3 additional weeks. Pregnant? Bahahaha.) Pregnant? That'd be funny!
BFF Amanda: Okay, so . . .
4 minutes later (Internal monologue: Maybe I should just swing by Target to pick up a test to be sure.)

The next morning when a second pink line let me know that Peanut was officially enwombed, my first thought was of how to tell the news to my partner in crime.  You see, Jason was away at band camp. (Take a minute to chuckle at your own band camp joke.)

Jason is a choir teacher for the local high school and attends band camp each year to help out with the marching program.  I, despite 8 years of trumpet/french horn playing, opt out of spending a week in the unairconditioned dorms of Bluffton with 130 teenagers. 

I knew Jason would be home in the early afternoon, so I had approximately 6 hours to come up with a clever way to let him know that he was packin'.  Fortunately, I am an OCD-licious, sentimental gal and had purchased a tiny pair of Cleveland Browns socks months before we even considered adding to the world's population problem.  I ransacked the linen closet (my hiding location of choice) and found said pair of itsy-bitsy orange and brown socks.  After wrapping them, I hustled to work wondering how I would keep the secret until 2ish when Jason should arrive home.

After the longest 5 hours of shoe-assisting, I headed home to give Jason the telltale package. I was jittery even while walking into the door. Things would NEVER BE THE SAME after this news. After 3 minutes of chit-chat about camp and work, I nonchalantly (yeah, right- my hands were sweaty geysers) tossed a small package at him with a witty, "I got this for you."

He slowly peeled away the wrapping and said, "Socks? You got me socks?"
Me: Uh-huh.
J: Browns socks? Thanks.
Me: . . .
J: They're for a little person.
Me: . . .
J: Whose little person?
Me: . . . Your little person.
J: Really?
Me: (Nods. Cries.)
J: Wow.
(Big hugs and kisses- Crazy happiness ensues.)

Gratitude List
Happy memories
Christmas dance at school
Dinner out at Cassano's
Only 4 days until we find out if Peanut is XX or XY
Surprise bonus time to clean the bathroom (or take an unexpected nap)

Oops.

I fell asleep on the couch last night.

Gratitude List (from yesterday)
Free jeans day at work
PTO provided pizza for lunch
Adorable student who couldn't wait for me to open the gift he brought me, so he opened it for me on the bus
Naps on the couch
My wonderful classroom aide

My Cat Is Trying to Destroy Christmas

Heathen.


Thus far she has broken four glass ornaments, three Christmas cards, knocked fake candles out of their window holders, and attempted to eat a batch of cookies. I don't know why she hates Christmas so much, but I think it has something to do with her favorite toy, Moose, and her sworn enemy, the dog.

Last January we got an adorable puppy, Wolfie. Obviously, the cat was unhappy about the howling, smelly intruder, but nothing made her as mad as when he absconded her favorite toy, Moose, as his own plaything.



It had to have been especially difficult for her because Moose began as a stuffed Christmas ornament which became her toy after I got tired of hangin it back on the tree after she knocked it off for the eleventy-billionth time.

Clearly, Liesl and Moose were a short term fling because once the gigantic beast (pictured above with his toy, Mushu) decided that Moose would be fun for chewing, Liesl was no match for his exuberance. Maybe that's why she keeps knocking ornaments off the tree; she is still looking for her long-lost Moosie.



My cat hates Christmas. She has a kitler 'stache. I've watched her hiss at a 9 day old kitten. Maybe we should look into kitty counseling for her before the Peanut arrives...



Gratitude List
Great jazz band assembly
Incredible coworkers
Receiving surprise flowers at school from a friend
My pretty Christmas tree, all lit up in the picture window
Long chat with Amanda

Oh, children

I'm a teacher. Have I mentioned that, yet?

I teach 4th grade and other than wife, daughter, sister, and friend I consider teacher to be one of the most important labels of my life. I love what I do (minus making copies and angsty parent emails/letters) and feel way fortunate that I get paid to do what I love.

This year I have the greatest class. They are sweet, funny, generally hardworking superstars and I love them.

Since telling them that I was going to be a mama, they have been even more fantasticly adorable and funny. Allow me to explain via reader's theater.

Cafeteria lady: Hey Mrs. S! I bet you'd like an extra chicken wrap since you're eating for two!
Me: Of course. (Pats 18 week tummy. Aside: I had gained 2 lbs. by this point.) You can see I'm packing it on!
Adorable sweetheart boy: (With total sincerity) Mrs. S., I think you look great. Seriously. I would never guess you were having a baby. That lady was bullying you. Do you want me to go to see the guidance counselor with you so you can talk about it?

Setting: Playground. Recess.
Kiddo: Mrs. S., do you know what your baby will be?
Me: I'm hoping for a person.
Kiddo: That's good. You already have a dog and a cat, right?

(This one I heard secondhand.)
Big brother: So, I heard your teacher is pregnant.
Little brother: Nope, I don't think so.
BB: Yes, she is.
LB: No she isn't, but she will be in March. (Peanut is due 3/26)

Morning Announcements: As a special treat, at Thursday's skating party, some of the teachers are going to have a race.
Kiddo: Mrs. S., are you going to be in the race?
Other kiddo: No! She can't! What if she falls? It could hurt her baby! Please don't do it Mrs. S!

Me: Please take out your materials for SSR. (Swiftly turns to grab read-aloud book and knocks over stool with suddenly inflated baby bump.) Sigh.
Cutie pie: Its okay, Mrs. S. The baby is supposed to get bigger.

I'm so dang lucky to spend the bulk of my day with them.

Gratitude Time
Christmas with J's Mom's side of the family
Watching the Survivor finale with my dad
Getting to meet Miss Anne Elizabeth G. at church
Celebrating Joanna's quarter of a century birthday
Peaceful car ride with Jason to West Mansfield

Insom-preg-nia

It is 3:36 am and I am awake. Nope, it isn't becaue I just got home from an awesome club or night out. Again, I'm not cool. I had to pee and once I was up for it, worrying became my BFF.

One of the biggest changes I've experienced from pre-bun-in-the-oven to post is that this child has already taken one of my favorite pasttimes- sleep. I have multiple sleep trophies, certificates, and awards and even earned an honorable mention at the X-games for extreme-napping. I can fall asleep anywhere and stay there all night with no trouble. Well, I used to.

Now, though, I'm up at least once every night with some sort of ailment. Worrying. Coughing. Having my internal organs beaten up until I rearrange my position. Worrying. An insatiable need to empty my bladder despite the fact that I've sworn off liquids after 8 pm. Worrying.

My mom (making her second appearance in this blog) says, "If you pray, why worry? If you worry, why pray. Thus, what begins as a tiny thought, "What if Peanut decides to make his/her arrival known before (insert important event in the near future)?" becomes a life altering, I must get up and hash this out through a series of pie charts, Venn diagrams, and top ten lists event. Then, inevitably, I remember mom's platitude/admonishment and start to pray. Thus, I cry for not being more reliant in God and generally fall asleep again worrying that I've again offended Him.

Wow. This got very personal quickly. Hormones...

Moral of the story: Peanut has stolen my sleep. I've heard that I might get it back in 18 years. Until then, I've got to get to the praying portion of the night faster.

Gratitude list
Cuddling with Wolfie
Soft bed
Multiple toilets in our house
Preggle (awesome pillow which has certainly helped give me additional Zzz's)
DVR

NY Resolution in December

I'm starting my NY Resolution early (perhaps this will make up for the lapses in blogging we both know I'll inevitably have) by attempting to keep a better record of life as it flies by. I've never been an avid journaler, although I long to write eloquent thoughts about life in a locked diary for my progeny to one day discover and snicker through, but maybe with enough readership and encouraging comments I'll keep it up.

Reasons I'm not writing this blog:
I live a fascinating life.
I'm a great writer.
I have deep thoughts that the world should have regular access to. (Duh. I tweet for that kind of stuff.)

Here's the real reason I'm writing:
I'm having a baby. And the world ought to have the opportunity to hear about my little Peanut, whom I already adore despite the fact that s/he is in utero and gender neutral. Don't think I'm biased. My mom thinks Peanut (who she prefers to call Butterbean) is incredible too. I know because she told everysinglenurse/orderly/doctor that she is going to be a grandma when she had surgery on Thursday.

Basic Cast List:
Jason (husband for 2+ years and daddy-to-be)
Peanut (gender undetermined, wiggly, 26 week-old fetus)
Wolfgang ColtMcCoy Stanford (fuzzy, wild, rescue dog and my SoulPuppy)
Liesl (stealth cat extraodinaire and Jason's SoulKitty)
Me (neurotic worrywart with the best intentions for wifedom and mommyhood)


Gratitude list (Another NY Resolution I've broken year after year)
Healthy family complete with kicking Peanut
Quality time with mom while she recovered from her surgery on Thursday
Watching Catch Me If You Can hand-in-hand with Jason
Adorable shower invitation arrival courtesy of my sweet SIL, Joanna
Nearly finishing today's to-do list (darn you, last load of laundry!)