Uhhh

I have mentioned before that I tend not to read pregnancy websites/message boards this time around, primarily because, well, they're boring. I like to reread favorite books and re-watch favorite movies, but I have little to no interest in revisting the narcissistic navel gazing that I indulged in first time around; still, every so often I plug in for amusement's sake, or to make sure that my 8 lbs of weight gain in a month isn't *completely* off base (no real satisfactory answer to that one, alas, but it hasn't reoccurred, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed). I checked the fascist healthy healthy eat lots of veggies and don't even LOOK at a milkshake one, and noticed on my little "personalized pregnancy timeline" that I have 97 days to go until my due date.

Ninety-seven days. For some reason, 3 months feels like forever, 13 weeks perhaps a little easier to swallow, but 97 days? Less than 100 days? That, my friends, is cause for a loud HOLY SHIT?! Where did the last six months go? Oh yeah, into the 4 year old. Heh. I'm definitely starting to understand some of the motivation for having second, third, fourth children...you don't even realize you're having them until something brings you up short. Like the thought that in less than 100 days, we will have two children.

On a less panicky note, Bean started her new preschool class today, and she had a blast. I wasn't sad, exactly, as I drove off, but was curiously deflated feeling. As much as I've looked forward to this day for the last two months, it was still a little tough to leave her at a "real" elementary school, no matter that she isn't technically even IN school yet, insofar as we tend to think of it. But we can buy a Selby Lane tshirt or sweatshirt for her, if we want. It will be three sizes too big, I have no doubt, but I admit there is a small part of me that is sort of charmed by the thought. The preschoolers aren't constrained by the school uniform rules (nothing big, just white collared shirts and navy or khaki pants, shorts, or skirts), but it's "optional". Even just having the "optional" option makes this feel like a much huger step than last year's cozy, self-contained, devoted to special needs preschool building. It's probably seeing all the bigger kids running around too that brings it into sharper focus. And they are so BIG compared to her.

I didn't cry. But I felt a bit like someone had put my heart on a shelf and said "come back and get it in 3 hours".

The Great Sleep Monster

Went up to San Francisco yesterday afternoon to have tea at Neiman Marcus with a friend (birthday treat for me, yay); stopped in at the Lush store on Powell beforehand. I'm going to admit it right here, I'm a total slut for the stuff Lush sells, and it's a good thing it's mediumly expensive, otherwise I'd be ordering up boxfuls on a monthly basis. Still, I did decide to splurge a bit (hey, birthday) and picked up some gorgeous little things (thank you Patsy and Eddie). The best buys, though, seem to have been the bath bombs and melts I bought for Bean usage. I was hoping to find the right combo of moisturizing and sleep inducing, and lo, I have found at least one. Her eyes were rolling back in her head by the end of the bath and I heard nary a peep for nearly 8 hours.

Second Child Syndrome

It starts early. Not that we're not looking forward to meeting Peabo, but it's pretty funny how little I feel like navel gazing this time around, unlike my attitude with Bean. This time, I'm just happy to get some time to read or watch tv or stare into space, almost forgetting I'm pregnant until I get kicked in the bladder.

I found this today, and let me assure you, it's all true---except sometimes the third child stuff starts the second time around.

House Lust

If Gene wants to buy a big old boat and have close waterfront access, then I want this house.

As my sister used to say in her toddlerhood, "I promise I want that".

Canine Reprieve

Earlier today, as I was walking the dogs, we encountered another pair of much better behaved pets. Embarrassment, as always, ensued, as mine went apeshit, Gershwin even going so far as to nip me while I was trying to get him to calm the bleep down. Needless to say, I was not thrilled with them and threatened sale to a disreputable restaurant.

After *I* finally calmed down, I did some work with Bean and her walker. She did a great job of it last week at physical therapy, but for some reason today, she decided to pitch a full on wailing fit, even to the point of those horrid silent tears where they barely breathe. Full on awful. Anyway, we soldiered on for about ten feet and then plunked in front of Teletubbies to recuperate. During the entire ordeal, Gershwin was *very* concerned about Bean and stuck to my rolling chair like glue; when we finally finished, he had to make sure that she knew he was on HER side as he frantically licked her tears and arms...he gets a reprieve.

This time.

Ack

Went to my 24 week O/B appointment this morning, was handed the hospital registration packet. Why? Well, at 24 weeks, there is in actual fact a chance for survival, should Peabo decide to make a REALLY early appearance.

Ack.

Needless to say, I'm not terribly worried about that happening; she seems pretty happy to stay where she is for the time being, but it did sort of throw into sharp relief the fact that we are past the halfway point, and especially once Bean starts back to school, the next three months are going to fly by. All seems well, although I was questioned as to why I might have gained 8 pounds in a month. I thought about saying "goblins?" but opted for honesty, which was that frankly I've been eating crap. Still, I have gained less than 20 pounds total, and only a pound or two heavier than the average for this point in pregnancy---it was more the amount in the time frame given, but my doctor restrained herself from saying more than "you might want to lay off the cookies a bit". Which is sadly true. However, I am also going to say that since I LOST weight earlier on due to my lovely bout of food poisoning, maybe I was doing a little bit of catch up. That is definitely it.

Tried to hear Peabo's heartbeat, but she was having none of that, kicking the Doppler every time the doctor got a handle on the "thudthudthud". Finally she just put it away and said "I think we're doing okay in there". Indeed. It was kind of amusing.

In other news, I am rather enamored with this website I stumbled upon. Not that I'm a huge movie junkie or anything, but there is something kind of nifty about owning clothing that has been seen onscreen, big or small.

It's Almost Friday

So I provide you with two terrifically amusing things. One, this video. Two, this website.

Trust me.

Mothers = Soppiness

Decided to take advantage of today's energy burst to start digging through the Bean's baby clothes to see what kind of laundry load I am going to have come November (answer: a big one). Gobsmacked to be reminded of how teenincey newborn socks are, ditto for onesies. Stupendously cute little dresses and sweaters and other wee things.

And then I found...the coming home from the hospital outfit.

Gender neutral, as we didn't know if Bean was an X or a Y: light blue footie overalls with a lion embroidered on the chest, coupled with a multi-striped long sleeved shirt.

I admit it. I cried. And carefully put it on top of the eventual laundry pile so that Peabo could come home in the same rig.

Oh, Canada

While I realize that I don't have extensive data regarding my experiences and feelings during pregnancy, I find it interesting that now both times I have found myself gravid, I go through some fairly intense homesickness for Canada in general and Toronto in particular. It's random things, like familiar snacks and food (pierogi, for one), or just seeing red post boxes instead of blue. I've been trying to figure out why this is; some friends have said it's like salmon...returning home to spawn. Gene thinks it may be because I always sort of expected to raise a family in Canada, or even Toronto specifically. Maybe it's because for all of our familial moving around, Toronto was the longest stretch of time spent in one place (though not one house, admittedly), and I know that when I talk to Bean and Peabo about "when Mummy was little", it's going to be stories about Toronto.

Then again, it could just be that I really really really like pierogi and baklava and Hawkin's Cheezies and Macintosh's Toffee.

Heh

I'm feeling quite good about having two daughters now....

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/newspaper/0,,176-2291737,00.html