Month: August 2012

This is why the Daily Haiku was invented.

pregnancy fatigue
I think I must be growing
a superhero

In which you get to know my uterus

Well, I’m pregnant! We knew that. But now it’s all official with my doctor who said, “Congratulations!!!! Let’s talk about your uterus.” And we did. Let me tell you what I learned about it.

Here’s a diagram of the little love-shaped life-giver.

My uterus

It’s made up of mostly muscle at the top and connective tissue (not so much muscle) at the bottom. It’s made this way so that when a baby is in there and wants to come out, the connective tissue can get soft and thin and the muscles at the top can contract and push it out.

My uterus tried really hard to do that when Julia was in there, but it didn’t work out. So, the doctor cut my uterus open and pulled Julia out. She did this at the bottom of my uterus which was a really good idea, because those kind of incisions are good incisions. They heal really well.

The good incision

And so she did the same thing when Lucy was born.

But when she went in to get Phoebe, she found a surprise. The bottom part of my uterus was covered with horrible and nasty varicose veins.

Horrible and nasty varicose veins

It was too risky to cut them, so she cut my uterus higher up, in the part with all the muscles.

The bad incision

So now, when my uterus contracts it compromises the incision.

Contractions!

This means there’s a chance that this could happen.

Not good.

Uterine rupture. This is bad. And in the words of my doctor, “potentially fatal” for the baby and me.

And so, we don’t want my uterus to contract. This isn’t a problem right now. But as we near the end of my pregnancy, it becomes a concern. So, my doctor has made a few recommendations:

1. I should stop breastfeeding Phoebe by the 24th week of pregnancy, because breastfeeding produces oxytocin and after the 24th week, oxytocin causes contractions.

2. I should allow the baby to be delivered early at 37 weeks. (I would need to have an amniocentesis to determine that the baby’s lungs are mature first.)

It’s some stuff to think about and we’ve got time to do that. Meanwhile, I’m counting the days until my first ultrasound and contemplating baby names. Got any suggestions?

Family Haiku

Dave comes home from work
and keeps me up all night to
make up for lost time

I’m dragging today.
Too tired for paragraphs.
Haiku has to do.

Lucy hugs me tight,
“That baby in your belly
makes you beautiful.”

Julia mulls genes.
“You’re my mom and I’m like you…
Do I have to be?”

Phoebe can do it.
Don’t even think of helping.
“I do it MY-TELF!”

Imagine this title is actually that funky intro riff to Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition”

I have no idea how this is happening, but we have 1) made it to bed, 2) woken up and 3) gotten Julia to school on time every day so far this school year. All five days of it. (Although I probably just ruined it with that bold statement!) We pretty much always got Julia to school on time before, but there was all this unpleasantness. I’m not sure what changed. Something certainly has, but I can’t figure it out, so I just keep trying to replicate the initial routine that spawned this miracle as precisely as possible.

“Wait, Lucy! No. No! Use the red towel. The red one. Julia, you use the blue one. And, yes, I’ll read The Monster at the End of This Book, but we need to do it last, okay? We can’t break the streak!!!” I’m like a superstitious sports fan, but with bedtime.

Because our mornings lately? Have been…wonderful. Joyous, even. We’re waking up at the same time as always, but somehow, magically and all of a sudden, there’s time to watch Bee dance as we’re getting dressed and to let Lucy help flip the pancakes.

This morning, I listened to the girls tell me about their dreams over Coco Wheats. I really listened. I wasn’t just half-listening with my real focus on the clock, because we’ve got to get moving!

Maybe my attitude has changed. Maybe I’ve just surrendered to The Schedule, rather than fighting it. Instead of feeling pissed off that we have to get up early and we have to be on time, I’m just…not pissed off. I’m just up early and on time. Maybe “we only have fifteen minutes” has become “we have a whole fifteen minutes!”

Maybe.

There’s enough doubt in my mind that I’m still going to get the girls’ blue nightgowns washed so they can wear them again tonight. Because it could be the blue nightgowns. Maybe.

Love, in a hopeless place

We’ve been sick. And I mean SIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK. It was a total puke-fest for about four five days – It’s been a total puke-fest. I’ve cleaned vomit off every imaginable surface. Wood. Tile. Carpet. Plastic. Vinyl. Rubber. Fabric. Skin. Hair. Fur. (Poor Picasso.) We now have official sick blankets and couch coverings, and back-up sick blankets and couch coverings. (And to think, a few weeks ago as I tried to organize the linen closet, I shook my fist and cried out to the sky, “Why, oh why do we have so many blankets?!?!” (I have my answer.))

Amid the sick, there were some gestures of kindness I didn’t expect.

While I was switching loads of laundry, Phoebe woke up and threw up. I returned from the laundry room to find her wrapped in a towel and Lucy cleaning up the mess. (I will remember this the next time she rips a toy out of Bee’s hands. Or pushes her off the couch. Or the swing.)

And later, after Lucy was sick, too, and Julia was asked if she wanted to go to the high school football game, she said, “I would, but my sisters are sick, so I should probably stay home to help.” (I shall not forget this, especially if she convinces them to slide down her “Rapunzel hair” (that she fashioned from her bed sheet) from the top bunk. Again.)

Then there was Dave. He spent his whole weekend at home playing nurse to all of us. He even sent me to bed early Saturday night so I could get some rest, even when he knew that trying to get Bee to sleep without me would be a near-impossible mission. (I’ll keep this in mind the next time he dumps soggy cornflakes in the sink.)

And now I will go and scrub my floors. (I hope everyone will remember this when I’m too pregnant and tired to do it.)

The Remarkable Talent of Katie Squish

This is my cat Katie (a.k.a. Squishminsterfullerene, a.k.a. Squishy Ball, a.k.a. Squish).

Katie Squish

Katie has a unique ability. She can tell when I’m pregnant.

Ordinarily, Katie is a bit of a loner. She just does her own thing. And though she’ll allow me to pet her and squish her when I see her, she doesn’t ever come looking for me and never NEVER would she wish for me to pick her up and hold her in my arms.

Squish

About a week before my positive pregnancy test, that changed. She started following me around like I was made of tuna, rubbing against my legs and meowing like a car alarm. She started seeking me out to sit on my lap, and at night, I’d wake up with her sleeping on my head. Never before has she acted this way. Except when I was pregnant with Phoebe. And also when I was pregnant with Lucy.

Need further proof? Check out this post from 2008. When I took the first picture, I was not pregnant. The rest? Pregnant.

Katie, The Pregnometer

Katie, a.k.a. Squishminsterfullerene, a.k.a. Squishy Ball, a.k.a. Squish, a.k.a. The Pregnometer.

Today, I will listen to the music of The Beach Boys. And it shall make me cry.

Julia started third grade today.

First day of third grade

She was pretty excited about it because she has cupcake erasers.

I’m feeling pleased that I managed to get myself and everyone else up, french toast to the table and all of us ready and out the door on time, even with a puker. (Bee woke up sick.)

Lucy will start preschool in thirteen days. I’m mourning the summer. It went by too fast. I’m not even sure we made the most of it.

Uno! Dos! Tres! Quatro!

You know I can never keep stuff like this quiet.

Pregnant - for the last time.

For the last time in my life, I am pregnant.

Born to Shop This Way

When I was in sixth grade, jean jackets were a big deal. Everyone wore them. Extraordinarily awesome kids kicked them up a notch with sassy pins that made declarative statements such as, “Homework rots your brain,” or “Poison Rulez!” Mine included gems like, “Born to shop” and “When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping!” Because, duh, shopping ROCKS! Except now. Twenty-some-odd years and three kids and later, it doesn’t so much. Now, it’s like being handed a bomb with a timer and a list of impossible demands I must meet before KABLOOOOEY!

This is why I’m a proponent of on-line shopping. I can do it anytime. 3 a.m. In my pajamas. On my smartphone. In my bath tub, even, if I’m feeling daring. So, I feel like I should tell you about Proctor & Gamble’s new eStore so you can use it. (I earn a commission during the month of August when you shop through the widget below! And you can save 10%!)

Now, you know Proctor & Gamble. They’re that huge Olympic sponsor with the commercials that make me cry. And you know their products – stuff like Tide laundry detergent, Gillette razors, Duracell batteries and all the sort of items you kick yourself for forgetting during that time-bomb shopping frenzy because you need them. Like my Olay Regenerist MicroSculpting Cream.


Olay Regenerist MicroSculpting Cream

I love Olay Regenerist products. I’ve been using the Cream Cleanser for years and because 40 is creeping up on me, I recently added the MicroSculpting Cream to my routine. It makes my skin feel so smooth and soft. The whole anti-aging thing appeals to me, too. I have yet to find another product that can match the results of Olay Regenerist items, but it’s not like I’m looking around. The MicroSculping Cream is a mainstay on my shopping list and if it (or any other Proctor & Gamble product) is on yours, now is the time to get it through their eStore. If you order through the widget up there, you’ll get 10% off ALL ITEMS through August 31st, 2012 and free shipping for orders over $25. And since Proctor & Gamble is a major Olympic sponsor, there are some great Olympic-themed bundles and deals right now. So, click! Shop! And send your friends here to do it, too! THIS is how I was born to shop! (Probably you, too.)

The Super Sisters

First, it was a club. Someone would put out the, “Sisters! Sisters! Sisters!” call (usually Phoebe, so it was more like, “SIT-TAH! SIT-TAH! SIT-TAH!”) and they’d come from all directions to converge behind the recliner with a lamp where they’d do cheers about being sisters and play Rock, Paper, Scissors wherein the loser was forced to retrieve popsicles from the freezer. Then they’d eat the popsicles.

Super Sisters Meeting

Before long, they grew weary of chants and fingerplays. (But not the popsicles.) They felt called to do more. So, they assigned each other costumes and special powers to become The Super Sisters.


The Super Sisters fight crime. It’s imaginary crime, but they’re very serious about it. They even pulled the stickers off the Barbie Jeep and replaced them with glitter glue S’s so they’d have “like a Batmobile for Super Sisters.”

The Super Sisters

The Super Sisters say, “Shut up, crime!” (Not really. But The Crimson Bolt says it in the movie Super that’s totally not for kids, but also totally awesome. You should watch it.) The Super Sisters actually don’t say much about crime. They simply fight it. Cutely.

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