My very own manservant!
While it is a downer that I can no longer tie my own shoes, at least my condition invokes sympathy in my husband who decided putting my shoes on for me was a better alternative then my turning blue every time I try to bend over.
I whipped up a batch of cornstarch and water for Alex to play with yesterday, what I will forever call "alien play dough" cause that is some weird ass shit! You can crumble it up or even pick up a big piece and snap it in half like chalk, but then let it sit in your hands and it "melts" and drips right through your fingers. I set Alex up at the counter with a toy car, a spoon and a big bowl of the alien play dough and he was occupied for HOURS. I'm not exaggerating one bit. He was completely fascinated with it. I took the opportunity to clean the entire house, do some laundry, mop the floors, clean bathrooms... WIth the exception of the three foot by three foot area he was playing in, our house was spotless!
After what had to be three and a half hours of playing with the cornstarch mixture, Alex started eating it so I figured it was time to take it away. The designated play area was coated in white and Alex had it in his hair, between his toes, in his Pull Up, in his ears... I've never seen the kid so throughouly covered before. It was surprisingly easy to clean, just needed to spray Alex down in the sink and wipe up the cornstarch off the counters, cupboards and floor and done. I will definately be making that stuff again sometime. Who knew a 75 cent box of cornstarch could be so much fun?
Alex is getting back on track with the potty training, but is insisting on always having a toy with him to play with while on the toilet. Ok fine. John does Sudoku, I read Time magazine, Alex needs matchbox cars. He finishes pooping, stands up to look in the toilet at what he did, then promptly throws his car into the toilet. The car floats down to rest on a big juicy turd.
Alex is laughing hysterically. I am simultaneously pissed, disgusted and faced with a decision. Do I reach in and grab the car? Do I flush it down and hope it doesn't compromise our plumbing? Both options are completely unacceptable to me, but I have to choose. I grabbed the car. John can never accuse me of not being serious about our financial goals, because I put my entire hand into a toilet filled with someone elses poop in order to save us a potentially expensive plumbing problem. I then scrubbed my hands and arms up to my elbows until they hurt then threw the car away because it will never, EVER be clean enough again.
We did have fun, but it is much too hard to keep track of three boys at a busy zoo without leashes. Alex fell asleep in the car about 10 minutes before we got home, then refused to take a nap. I'm exahusted. Three hours at the zoo felt like running a damned marathon today. I was counting on a nice long nap, but Alex is still too worked up about having so much fun to relax. Good thing I've got the night off tonight. Going to see a movie with some friends while Alex stays home with John. I think I deserve it today.
Potty update - stalled
Somehow, in the last week, we've gone from having Alex pretty much potty trained, to "Potty? What's a potty?". All week he's been wetting his Pull ups between potty trips, even when I shortened them to every 30 minutes! He was still good about telling me he had to poop, so I didn't worry about it until yesterday afternoon, he'd had a successful potty-poo earlier, and we were watching Ratatouille and he was eating lunch and I smelled it. He'd pooped his pants and didn't want to stop watching the movie so not only did he not tell me he had to go, he didn't even tell me he had gone (normally, if he has an accident, he'll tell me while he's pooping or after he poops). It wasn't even runny (I give him the benefit of the doubt that runners can be hard to predict and accidents more likely), he had to work on that one, yet he didn't say a word. He did it again this morning during Curious George.
The only change from last week to this week is the fact that I'm not doling out gummy worms for potty deposits anymore. He'd stopped eating regular food entirely, presumably because he was all filled up with potty treats, so I weaned him off of them. He started eating food again, but stopped using the potty regularly. Gah! I'm going to go back to giving him treats for deposits and just hope a child can live on gummy worms and apple juice alone.
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Preschool - put off
We've decided to hold off on putting Alex in preschool this year. Since Alex won't be attending Kindergarten for another three years, we decided we could wait a year to enroll him in preschool, this year we'll focus that money on our debts and hopefully be in a better place to afford tuition next year. I am looking for some fun classes to enroll him in this summer though. I'm hoping I'll be able to figure out a way to do this with Alex after the baby is born (most classes for his age are parent participating which will be difficult to do while having his brother strapped to my chest).
:::
Pregnancy - the swelling
I've had to remove my wedding rings, likely for the duration of the pregnancy. I don't remember having to do this last time, but I'm sure I did as I had a much harder time with weight gain and edema with Alex. I can still wear the rings, but my fingers are starting to look much more sausagey than normal and I thought I'd better remove them now before I had to get them cut off (the rings, not my sausage fingers). I'm on the lookout for a nice chain to put them on because I'm feeling a bit naked without them.
I'm looking forward to Spring, not only for better weather, but I'm very excited about wearing nothing but flip flops as my feet are looking pregnant as well.
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Famous highschool classmates - I win!
John was very excited about David Archuleta on American Idol because he goes to the same high school John graduated from. I am neither an American Idol fan nor a David Archuleta fan. He's not my style. John says I don't like him simply because he's from Utah. While this might be true, I am a raving anti-Utetite, I still feel like he's got a "Brady Bunch" feel to him. Talented, sure, but completely unoriginal.
So now John and I have an unofficial contest. Who is more closely associated to a famous person. Even counting out my own personal relationship with Henry Winkler forged during a stint as an extra in a movie featuring Rick Schroder and Freddie Prinze Junior (who is married to Sarah Michelle Gellar, aka Buffy the Vampire Slayer - you'll see the connection soon) I got him beat. I went to highschool with Jaime Bergman. Playboy's October 1999 centerfold. More importantly, she's married to David Boreanaz. Angel, from Buffy! Anyway you look at it, that's only two or three degrees of separation between me and beautiful, beautiful David Boreanaz.
Plus the fact that I actually KNEW Jaime (though she was a cheerleader and I... well, I was not. I was in Colorguard. It's safe to say that we were not friends. Plus, I thought she had stupid hair) and John graduated from Murray Highschool over a decade ago, I think I win, HANDS DOWN.
No dieting!
As a person who has been dieting for at least two decades, it is a refreshing change to have dieting be expressly forbidden for nine months.
I took the no dieting challenge very seriously last time, and quite successfully gained 60 pounds. What can I say, I'm an overachiever. This time, my goals are not so lofty. I'm aiming to gain less than or equal to the recommended 25-30 pounds. At my weigh in this week, I'm up 13 pounds, so I'm right on track.
The best part of not dieting is allowing myself to indulge, guilt free, in some pregnancy cravings. Be it cream cheese frosting spread on graham crackers, Junior Mints or telling my husband "If you don't take me out for a steak right now I might have to eat you."
John: "Wow, the trash is full, it needs to be taken out"
Me: "Yea, I wish someone would do that"
John: "Well, if someone were still taking care of the domestic duties..."
Me: "Domestic duties? Domestic duties?! Excuse me, but I've got a 24/7 domestic duty right here (pointing to belly). I also have to push this domestic duty out of my vagina and feed it with my boobs, so don't you be talking to me about domestic duties!"
Dreaming
A lot of pregnant women say that their dreams get really weird. Usually centering around pregnancy and the new baby. My dreams are much more vivid and interesting than ever when I'm pregnant, but only rarely have anything at all to do with the baby. My pregnant dreams are like an action/adventure movie. One night I'm a spy sent to track down an American shirtmaker hiding out in Yemen. I am an expert in knife fighting and participate in high speed car chases. The next night I'm caught up in a murder mystery where I befriend someone who has kidnapped three elderly people from an RV trade show. I attempt to stop her from murdering them by helping her hide the people in her basement. I discover one of the hostages is her father and I try to set him free, when he turns on me and takes me captive then...Alex wakes me up because he has to use the potty. Damn.
These dreams feel so real, and unlike my non-pregnant dreams, I remember almost every detail long after I've woken up. I look forward to going to bed because it's highly entertaining these days.
I've spent the last few weeks basically obsessing about Alex's future school career. Where and when to start him in preschool and worrying whether or not I should even be worrying about the stupid public school age cutoff. I think I've got some things figured out.
I'm not going to worry about the age cutoff. After talking to several other mothers (one of them being a Kindergarten teacher in a public school who also has a teen aged son who missed the cutoff by two months), I've come to the conclusion that giving him an extra year to mature and grow will only benefit him in the end.
My next worry was whether or not to start him in preschool this year and if so, where should he go? After this morning, I've found the answer to both of those questions, the problem is, I need to get John on board.
As it turns out, I've chosen the Christian school as Alex's preschool. There are several factors that brought me to this conclusion, not the least of which is the fact that it is affordable when compared to the other programs I'd investigated. Once I started calling around to some recommended preschools, I found that the tuition (for schools in our area anyway) ranges from $300 to $600 per month. PER MONTH! FOR PRESCHOOL! I mean, this isn't graduate school here. What will they be doing for $600 per month? Coloring with crayons made of gold? I'd better be getting gallery quality art projects sent home every day for that price. He'd better be speaking three languages and know how to perform brain surgery by the end of the year. Forget preschool, if we had an extra $600 per month sitting around, let's buy a Maserati (well, we could probably insure the Maserati for $600 anyway). The Christian school is $120 per month with a $60 yearly "supply fee". To keep costs down, they also require parents to volunteer a minimum of six hours per year. That's more like it.
I took Alex to the preschool for a tour this morning and discovered that not only is the price right, I love the program. The classes are small (1:8 child to teacher ratio), and they're focused on learning through play and experience. In contrast to the other schools which are highly structured and focus on teaching through doing worksheets and such, this one lets kids be kids. If he doesn't want to do the art project, well, he doesn't have to. He doesn't sit and memorize his ABC's, he learns letters by seeing the labeled objects in the room. He learns to count by counting out napkins for snack time or counting his friends. This seems to fit right in with my own "hippie" parenting style.
The only downside to our tour was the fact that my sweet son morphed into an evil little troll the minute we walked in the doors. He wouldn't talk to the program director. He refused to play with the dinosaurs she gave him and instead tried to wreck her office. He wanted desperately to play with the other kids, but that obviously wasn't possible, so he cried and said he wanted to go home. Then, when we did finally leave, he cried "no bye bye!". He pulled out every bad behavior in his repertoire. After that display, I'm surprised she even bothered to give me a registration form. I mean, why would they want to let this kid into their happy school? It reinforced my feeling that going to preschool this year is exactly what he needs.
Sadly, the preschool is already full for this fall. We can, however, get on the waiting list and she was confident that he'd be able to get into a class by September (apparently, there's a high number of kids pulled out due to not being potty trained before school starts. Since Alex is well on his way to being potty trained already, this shouldn't be an issue for him). Getting a spot in the school this year would also ensure he has a spot reserved for him for every year he attends the school (they only go to second grade).
John isn't thrilled about the idea of Alex going to a Christian school, but seems to have warmed up to the idea since I've assured him that he won't be hearing sermons or reading the Bible every day. His major concern is the cost. We're trying so hard to get our finances under control after our wild and crazy year last year. $120 a month would go a long way to helping us pay off some of our debt. But he hasn't dismissed it completely and is willing to mull it over and give me a definitive answer by Monday so I can get Alex a good spot on the waiting list should John decide we can in fact afford it this year.
I was inspired by Maggie's "Pregnancy doesn't suck" entries when she was pregnant with Hank, and I thought it might be good for me to record some of the nicer aspects of being with child for a change.
This pregnancy has been different from my last, in that it's been significantly harder on me physically and emotionally. Where I loved nearly each and every minute of my pregnancy with Alex, this whole second pregnancy has an air of "Get this over with already so I can get on with my life" to it. It could be the "been there, done that" factor, or simply just the demands of raising a toddler make having a bulbous midsection, sore hips and off and on nausea just that much harder to handle.
This being most likely the last time I experience the miracle of creating life, I'd like to have something to look back on positively. So here it goes.
Reason #1: Boobs
In my opinion, no boobs are better than pregnant boobs. If you've got small boobs, they get bigger. If you have large boobs, they get larger, but in a nice "firm" sort of a way. I've always had ample boobage myself, but they haven't been perky since I was a teenager. My pregnant boobs are the closest to perky I'm ever likely to be without surgical intervention.
I loved my pregnant boobs the first time, then I got nursing boobs and they were downright frightening. We're talking bigger than Dolly here, and were liable to spray you in the eye if you got close enough. Luckily, they went back to their normal shape once Alex was weaned. I felt lucky in that I didn't have to scoop them off the floor and roll them up into my bra. But I sorely missed my pregnant boobs.
Well, here I am, rocking the pregnancy boobs once again, and if I do say so myself, they are spectacular. John, a bonafide "boob man" wholeheartedly agrees. Sure, they're sore, but I'm focusing on the postives here!
Fist up, the first time I've ever seen John cook (re-heating soup in the microwave or making a bowl of Cheerios doesn't count). A few weeks ago I had a craving for fried plantains, so I went out and bought a nice looking plantain. John told me I needed to wait for it to turn black so the plantain would be nice and sweet. So I waited, and waited, and waited... By the time it was black, it had been sitting on my windowsill for three weeks and I was scared to even touch it, let alone fry it up and eat it. John was not so squeamish and did the cooking for me:
He wouldn't let me take a picture of him actually cooking these, as he was doing it in his underwear. I made him taste the first one. After waiting a few minutes and he didn't drop dead or turn green, I tasted one. Even though they were a little burned, they were still awesome! Next time I think we'll add a little garlic. Yummy.
Last, after a temporary lapse in judgment, I let Alex watch an episode of Barney. He's really been into dinosaurs lately, I thought he'd get a kick out of watching the big purple dinosaur. Sadly, I was right:
It won't happen again.
So, the boy? He may be, just the slightest bit, spoiled. I had no idea.
No really!
And here's the most shocking part. It's my fault. Entirely.
Who knew?
Over the weekend, we all three went to the grocery store. This is a rarity. John hates grocery shopping, but sometimes I like to drag him along, if only to have a big strong man take my groceries to the car for me. For the first two aisles it went well. Then we walked past a display of Hot Wheels cars and our shopping experience went straight to hell. Alex went batshit crazy screaming and crying in the cart begging for a car. I immediately walked over to the display to get one for him when John stopped me.
"He doesn't need another car" John said.
I just looked at John. "But he wants one."
"That doesn't mean he should get another one."
"But it's only a dollar. Look at him! He wants a car. It will make him happy"
Meanwhile Alex is practically working himself into a grand mal seizure and his face is turning purple
"Honey, he shouldn't get everything he wants just because he wants it"
"Why not?" I ask, absolutely seriously. John gives me a look.
Everyone in the dairy section of the grocery store is staring at Alex who is kicking his legs and waving his arms. John takes the cart and continues shopping. I stop at a display of Easter candy.
"Can we buy him one of these? He'd love one with the egg on it"
"No"
"Oh come on! Why are you being so mean?"
Alex continues screaming
"He's not getting anything. He's acting like a shit"
"He just wants a car!" I whine to John
"CAR! I WANNA CAR!" Alex shrieks
"Oh God, I think I'm going to faint, I can't stand this screaming. Can't we just buy him a toy? How about this water whistle?"
"Honey, that's why he acts like this because you always give him what he wants"
"But I want him to be happy!"
It didn't get any better. Alex threw a complete fit the entire shopping trip. I kept trying to give him things. John kept telling me I couldn't. When we were almost done shopping I sent John off to find some ziplock baggies, but before he left, he gave me a stern lecture about how I'd better not be thinking of sneaking Alex a toy while he was gone. I was totally thinking that.
I can't explain what happens to me when Alex cries. It's like a Pavlovian response to immediately give Alex whatever it is he's asking for. This explains why he has so damn many cars at home. I actually feel pain when Alex is upset. Like, actual, physical pain if I try to keep myself from giving in to him. My mind goes all foggy. At one point, as we were walking down the aisles, I kept bumping into displays, I couldn't even walk straight with Alex wailing like that and me not doing anything to make it better. John doesn't have that reaction at all. At one point I asked him "How can you stand this? Don't you want to just pick him up and give him whatever he wants to make him happy?" "No" he responded. "It makes me want to slap him" (he wouldn't really slap him, don't worry.)
This shopping trip was definitely an eye opener for me. It is absolutely pathetic to realize that I'm spoiling my son completely rotten, to the point where he will scream and cry for 45 minutes straight in a grocery store over a Hot Wheels car. It occurred to me that I've never once come home from a shopping trip without something special for Alex. Be it a toy, a new sippy cup he wanted, gum, a piece of candy... it's always something. I literally had no idea.
I've been thinking a lot about preschool lately. Truth be told, I've been thinking about preschool since Alex was a fetus. I want to put Alex in a preschool program this fall. He'll be three in September. But I have some concerns. I'd always planned to put Alex in public school starting in Kindergarten. One of the reasons we live where we do, particularly the neighborhood we do, is that I like the schools. They are the schools I attended and they're some of the best schools in our district, which is the best district in the valley. The problem you ask? Well, Alex is going to miss the Kindergarten age cutoff by 23 days. Requiring him to twiddle his thumbs for an entire year before he can start school less than a month from turning six. If I put him in preschool this fall, he'll have gone through THREE YEARS of preschool.
Now, if Alex isn't ready to start Kindergarten when he's five, fine. I'd hold him back if it were the best thing for him. But what if he is ready? Why should he have to be held back just because of his birthdate? Both John and I are uncomfortable with this. Luckily we have an option, unfortunately, it's expensive. Starting him in a private school beginning in preschool. I suppose we'd have two options if we didn't have any moral dilemma with fudging Alex's birthdate on his birth certificate.
I went to a private school until second grade and was able to start school early despite my birthday being a full two months past the cutoff date. We do have the option of putting Alex in the school I went to, but it's crazy expensive and, in my opinion, too academic for my taste in preschool.
There is another option for private school that is a little more affordable, and that's at a private Christian school located in a Methodist church. I've heard nothing but great things about their programs and they're quite a bit more affordable. I have to admit, however, that having Alex attend a Christian school isn't quite my ideal as an agnostic mother. When I first mentioned it to John he dismissed it immediately. My real concern is the last bullet point in the school's preschool curriculum stating: Introduce Biblical concepts into daily classroom life. While I'm not at all opposed to my child learning about the Bible and other religious texts, I'm VERY uncomfortable with him learning about them in a school setting, particularly if the Bible will be the only religious text discussed. I'm not trying to raise an atheist child or a Christian child here. I'm trying to raise a curious, open-minded child who will have the ability to make his own choices when it comes to religion and spirituality (or lack there of). Being taught about the Bible as a factual historical text in school will not accomplish that. I feel it would only complicate things for him. Especially if he's being taught this stuff at the age of three.
Even though I have concerns, it is a great program and has come highly recommended by several mothers I've talked to. GAH! What to do? Go broke for the highly academic preschool? Initiate discussions about other religions and beliefs at home with Alex to offset the "Sunday school" aspect of the Christian school? Bag the whole private school thing and let him have three years of an affordable and religion-free preschool and be the biggest, oldest kid in his Kindergarten class? Home school?
I don't know. Maybe I don't need to worry about it this year. Maybe I should just put him in a fun, lightly structured, affordable pre-preschool program this year and worry about all this next year. But then I talk to other mothers and learn about year long waiting lists and worry that I should have started this process LAST year.
John surprised me with a box of See's chocolates for Valentine's Day yesterday afternoon. I'd been not-so-subtly leaving See's Candies advertisements around the house for over a week now, so it was pretty much a given that when John showed up with a one pound box of chocolates (thoughtfully picked out to not include any coconut) he knew he'd totally be gettin' some last night.
The chocolates were amazing, as See's chocolates are known to be, however, they did have one bad side effect. Alex, having finally gotten over the flu, wanted to try the candy. He's not much of a chocolate lover, he's much more of a gummy worm / TootsiePop kind of guy, but really, who can resist See's chocolate? I gave him a caramel, he loved it. I gave him a mint, he loved it. I gave him a nibble of a mocha, he loved it, then broke out in hives over his chest, belly, back and neck.
Having suffered from skin rashes his entire life, the hives barely phased him at all, though I'm sure anyone else would be madly itching their skin off. Since it was only a skin rash, and the allergic reaction didn't appear to be affecting his breathing and the hives stopped just below his ears, no swelling on his face at all, I decided to let him go to bed and see how he was in the morning. This morning, the rash is still there, but not any worse than last night. I put his prescription cream (for eczema) on and it seems to be calming down a bit, though he still looks like he slept in a pile of poison ivy.
I made John a big cinnamon roll with cream cheese frosting and a cute red heart on top for breakfast along with a Valentine's day card. John gave me his credit card so I could buy a new stroller. Yea, we're all kinds of romantic over here.
Traditionally, I give John candy and John buys me a dozen rozes (the only time of year I get flowers), a balloon and a teddy bear. We broke the tradition last year, being in Panama, John felt that the holiday didn't apply. They do celebrate Valentine's Day in Panama, but apparently, we don't celebrate holidays while out of the country (we didn't really celebrate our anniversary either). This year, we've got a sick little boy who won't let me out of his sight, so our original plans of stealing away for the afternoon for a quiet lunch together followed by a movie with a rating well above 'G' will have to wait. John's got the next five days off of work, so we'll have plenty of time to squeeze in a little together time. That is, of course, unless John gets Alex's flu (highly likely unfortunately), in such case, I'll have to wait until our anniversay (March 3) for any romance.
No matter, I'm lucky in that I'm married to a man who shows me he loves me every single day. He's not the kind of guy to lavish me with gifts and flowers, even on occasions that warrant it. He is the kind of man who will look over at me while we're lounging on the sofa in our jammies watching Star Trek reruns and say "you are beautiful, I love you so much". Six and a half years into our relationship, the man can still kiss me and make me weak in the knees. John is my Valentine everyday.
The boy, he's sick. Two nights in a row he's been a little fireball all night long. I don't have a good thermometer, so I have no idea how high his temperature's been, but I'm guessing from the heat radiating off of his body melting anything within a five foot radius of him, it's pretty darn high. Last night he woke up crying "I have boo boo eyes!" Which I'm guessing meant his eyes hurt, possibly from a headache. Tylenol is making him a little less hot, but he's still warm to the touch.
The thing with Alex though, when he's sick, is he only acts sick at night. During the day he's practically normal. Maybe a little slower, but just as playful and happy as he is any other day when he's not a human heater. So I convince myself he must be getting better, until evening, after the doctor's offices close, and he's miserable again.
I called a nurse this morning who told me she thinks he should come in to see a doctor today. Unfortunately, his regular doctor is on maternity leave and my second choice doctor recently left the practice, so I'm stuck having to take him to a doctor who's never seen him before. It's really not that big of a deal, all these doctors are in the same practice and they have access to Alex's medical history, it's just I'm much more comfortable with his regular doctor. This is exactly why I spent so much time picking out his regular doctor and second choice doctor in the first place. I always feel stupid seeing a new doctor because Alex looks like he's fine to the untrained observer, he looks completely normal. Mitzi, his regular doctor, knows if he's not climbing the walls and racing around the room at 100 mph, something is terribly wrong.
It's probably just the flu and I'll be sent home with instructions to give him Tylenol and keep him hydrated, which I'm already doing. New doctor or not, it will make me feel better to have confirmation that I'm doing all I can to help him get better.
Alex crying from the family room:
"My heart! My heart! It's broken! My heart, it's broken!"
Curious as to what could have happened to break my poor little boy's heart, I went in to check. Turns out, it was a sticker. A heart shaped sticker that he'd ripped in half. A broken heart.
"Taste this frosting and tell me if it's gross or if it's just me"
Dips his finger in and puts a big blob of the offending confection in his mouth
"hmmm, well, it doesn't taste like cream cheese frosting. It tastes like...."
"tires?"
"No, not tires"
"condoms?"
"No, that's not it"
"Ass?"
"no... Oh, it's glue! It tastes like Elmer's glue!"
"Glue? What does glue taste like?"
"like this frosting."
"Well, I'm throwing it away, it's nasty."
pointing to the abandoned frosted graham crackers on the counter "Can I eat these?"
"I thought you said it tasted like glue."
"Well, we wouldn't want these to go to waste"
In an attempt to indulge a particular pregnancy craving, I found myself at Target purchasing two giant vats of cream cheese frosting and a value sized package of graham crackers. I rushed home and proceeded to frost about six dozen crackers, inch thick with frosting. I put the Cars DVD on for Alex, so as not to be disturbed, and took a very large, expectant bite out of one of the crackers.
YUCK!
The frosting tasted like rubber. Like the way tires smell when someone is peeling out after a stop light. Bleh! Gaaaa! I couldn't spit it out fast enough.
Thankfully (or perhaps not) I picked up a five pound box of Junior Mints while in the candy aisle letting Alex pick out more potty treats. I am now nursing a tummy ache from Junior Mint overdose made all the worse by Baby 2.0's sugar fueled Riverdance in my womb. And strangely, I'm still craving cream cheese frosting and graham crackers.
Boo Hoo.
I woke up yesterday morning feeling reminiscent of the days just mere months ago when I was suffering from morning sickness. I ate breakfast and felt worse, confirming my fears that it wasn't morning sickness (eating usually makes me feel better), but something else. Fifteen minutes later I was loosing my breakfast into the sink. I successfully begged John into taking the day off so I could take a sick day. While John entertained Alex, I spent the entire day either in bed or vomiting up bile every five minutes. I couldn't even keep teeny tiny sips of water down without making a mad dash to the bathroom.
Around 4 pm I was beginning to worry about dehydration. My stomach and intestines were cramping and I felt as though the baby had escaped from my womb somehow and was making balloon animals out of my guts. I called the doctor to see if it was something to worry about or if I should just stay in bed and hope for the best tomorrow. Turns out it was in fact something to worry about and I was ordered to labor and delivery for an IV of fluids and anti-nausea medication.
I managed to sqeeze out a few drops for a urine sample and not only was it bright orange, it was apparently full of ketones, indicating that I was, in fact, dehydrated. They listened to the baby's heart beat and he seemed to be doing fine, so they began the process of setting up my IV, which was made more traumatic than it needed to be owing to the fact that I was dehydrated and it took three nurses to find a decent vein. It still hurt. A lot.
It took two hours before they could get my anti-nausea medication, so I spent that time hooked up to the IV and throwing up into those little kidney shaped puke bowls. Can I just say that whoever designed those things is an idiot? I needed a bucket not a dainty little bowl. Once I finally got my anti-nausea medication in my IV, my outlook improved dramatically, however I had to face another problem in that they wouldn't let me leave until I peed. I didn't need to pee. It seems all the fluids they'd been giving me I was immediately throwing up. Another IV solved that problem and I sucessfully and happily demonstrated my urinating skills and was sent home.
Luckily I'm the only one in our household that didn't get a flu shot this year, so hopefully the boys won't get this evil bug. I'm feeling better, but very achy, like I did some kind of hardcore workout yesterday. I haven't truly tested how much better I'm feeling, frankly, I'm scared to eat anything yet, but I am sipping on some ice water and it's all staying down so far. Hopefully It'll just be one of those 24 hour deals and I'll be back to normal this afternoon.
I voted, did you?
Of course, I live in Utah and it's a general rule that I will vote the exact opposite of what the majority in my state will vote. Case in point, I voted for Hillary, so obviously Obama won Utah. Oh well, I almost voted for Obama, so it's ok. What I can't wrap my mind around is Romney's 90% win here. 90%!?!?! Really people? I mean, I know he's "one of you", being a Mormon and all, but that certainly doesn't make him qualified to be president. Did someone threaten to revoke temple recommends if Romney didn't take Utah? Because seriously, 90%?!?!?!
Last week I as convinced that Alex was almost potty trained. Tuesday through Friday he had no accidents and even woke up in the mornings dry. Then came Saturday, and it was as though we'd never started potty training at all. He was soaking through his pull ups between potty trips and didn't even try to poop in the potty at all. I even went back to shorter intervals between potty trips, but that didn't seem to help.
Sunday was a little better, probably because I started the day out with potty trips every 45 minutes. He still managed to soak two pull ups, but it was better.
Today, he's been perfect again. Woke up dry, no accidents and even asked to go to the potty this morning to poop. We spent the afternoon at the Natural History Museum and he used the public restrooms like a champ.
What's the deal? I'm blaming John. The only factor that was different between last week and this weekend was that John was home. I don't know why that would cause Alex to forget how to use the potty, but the proof seems to be that today, John's at work and Alex is suddenly back to being practically potty trained again. Coincidence? Maybe. But if it happens next weekend, I think we'll all know the truth.
Ok, not really, but I do think it's pretty cool that Schmap chose my photo of Cheers (Bull & Finch Pub) for their site.
My photo is in the Beacon Hill photos section.
John was really excited to show this to me. Alex loves it. Probably because this guy is speaking his language.
The back seems to be getting better, though I doubt I'll ever be 100% again, well, at least not until this pregnancy is over anyway (though the back pain has little to do with the pregnancy and everything to do with having aggravated an existing problem, the weight gain and extra weight in the frontal regions are not likely to help matters any, though my butt seems to be trying it's best to even things out as I now appear to be carrying an extra baby in my ass). I am no longer screaming in agony with every move, instead it's more of a painful wince and a whole lot of hobbing about. Would you like a side of sciatica with that? Sure, how 'bout smack dab in the middle of my right butt cheek. Thanks.
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Potty training continues. I'm sure my potty training updates are not as thrilling to anyone other than me, I can't help talking about it because it's pretty much consumed our lives these days.
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The new king bed is like a little slice of heaven right in my own bedroom. I couldn't be happier about it. The three of us fit quite nicely in it now. Alex has taken to laying horizontally between John and I making us look like a human H. John has decided to sleep about three feet away from his edge of the bed "Because I can" he says. The problem is, now I don't have any more room than I did in the queen bed. John's also having trouble with our new pillows. We bought four new king sized pillows but none of them are firm enough for him. I'm thinking of wrapping up a cinder block in a layer of batting and having him try that out.
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I've finally agreed with John that we should fix up the guest room (now currently functioning as a storage room) as the new baby's nursery. Originally I'd planned to have the baby in our room for six months (like we did with Alex), then move him into Alex's room. I figured the boys could share a room for a few years, mostly so I would only have to clean up one kids room instead of two. John's always maintained that the kids should have separate rooms because we have the extra space and it seemed silly to him to make them share if they could easily have their own spaces. My argument was, they're BABIES. I'm sure they don't care about having to share yet.
For whatever reason, I've changed my mind and now we have a nursery to paint and setup. I also want to do a little bit to Alex's room to make it look a little better. Right now it's just a mish-mash of different stuff he's collected over the last two-and-a-half years. I'm thinking a trip to IKEA will fix that problem in a hurry.
