Sunday

This is a day where I would like, very much, for someone to come over and rub my shoulders and tell me everything's going to be all right.

Permission to go to bed: granted

Note to self: it is all right to be tired when you've been traveling. It does not mean you're weak. It means you're tired, and heading upstairs to watch Burn Notice in bed is not a shameful thing. It's a luxury you should take advantage of while you can.

In other news, I don't know what the hell my neighbors are doing over there, but they're making a lot of noise doing it. ALL THE TIME.

20 weeks

Had my 20 week ultrasound today. It appears that sproglet has all the necessary organs and limbs in the right places, and in the right proportions.

Good to know.

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This week's food craving: bread. Oh, bread, how I love you. Tonight's whole wheat bagel was heaven.

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I guess I haven't talked much about religion on this blog, have I? Anyway, Lent started this week. Because getting up for sunrise Ash Wednesday services at my church was seriously not happening, I went to services near my office.

The only churches near my office are Catholic and Methodist. I'm not a Catholic any more, so that's out. I like the Methodists, so I headed over there, and it was an oasis in the middle of my day.

I'm giving up ice cream and candy for Lent this year. I need to cut down on sugar. I don't eat much candy, but it sits around the office in various places and it's easy-- too easy-- to pick up a piece here and there. It adds up.

Ice cream... let's just say last weekend involved waaaay too much ice cream, and Lent came around just in time to put a stop to that.

Oh, low-fat mint chip. I'll see you in 38 days.

Weekend

Last night I went to a birthday party where the birthday girl decided that, since her favorite meal is breakfast, she wanted breakfast for dinner. It was awesome-- pancakes and waffles and quiche and fruit and hash browns and mimosas (not for me, sadly) and bacon and all manner of breakfasty foods.

And then we lolled around in carb comas, watching the winter oly*mpics and making fun of Bob Cost*as's hair.

I don't live a fancy life, but I like it. A lot.

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Not much exciting to report. I'm trying to do something every day to get the house organized for the sproglet's arrival-- today was pulling stuff out of the guest room (which will be the baby's room), as well as organizing the basement storage and ordering a drawer unit for the closet. (Thanks, sale at the Cont*ainer Store. Excellent timing there!) I have to be strategic about what I can and can't keep, given my lack of space.

The list of things I have to do before July is... argh. It's really long. I'm just trying to knock things off, bit by bit. Speaking of which, calling the handyman this week is one way to potentially shorten the to-do list quite a bit.

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Sproglet, BTW, has made her presence known. I've had fluttering for about a week and a half or so, but one day this week she decided I was lazing about in bed too late and she thwapped me several times, but good.

As one of my friends said, this is why mothers often look skeptically at those "But I had no idea I was pregnant!" stories-- that particular sensation couldn't have possibly been anything but what it was.

She's settled into a combination of fluttering and thwapping; afternoons seem to be especially busy times for her. She has a lot to do in there, I guess.

It's a bit like the movie Ali*ens, frankly. Yes, I continue to be the least sentimental pregnant woman ever.

But I like that she also, apparently, responds to music. Good girl.

Seriously (not) in-depth Sunday morning update

Two things:

- I turned off my alarm last night, determined to sleep as late as I possibly could. 7:30 a.m.? There I was, bright-eyed and bushy tailed. NOT FAIR.

- Apparently there's a big football game today. I'm such a heathen.

Coaching, shopping, and cheating

So much going on, as always!

This week I asked one of my two best friends, G, to be my birth coach. She enthusiastically accepted, which is a big load off my mind. Because of my due date, this means she can’t take one of her usual summer vacations, so it’s even nicer of her.

“There’s no one I’d rather have there,” I told her, and I meant it.

Additional bonus: my parents practically consider her their second daughter, and she’s really good with them. Given that they’re inevitably going to need to be “handled” during the whole L&D process, and I’m probably not going to have any ability to be subtle or polite, she’ll be invaluable.

(My other best friend lives an hour away, at least, and has two young kids. Just getting to the birthing classes would be a major chore for her.)

Placeholder for future post: “handling” my parents. And not during L&D: now.

We’ve got some issues. Or I do, anyway.

(Also, I have a lot of placeholders for future posts. Sorry ‘bout that.)

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Updated note on shopping: THERE’S JUST SO MUCH TO BUY.

At lunch this week, when I brought up that I was just going to get a used bassinet from Cra*gslist if I couldn’t find a used one from among my friends, G sternly reminded me that I need to register, because people need stuff to buy.

“But I’m registering for everything!” I protested. And seriously, I am. There’s a crapload of gear, and even though I’m trying to be smart about things (hello, I don’t need two pa*ck and plays—my house is hardly big enough for one), there’s still a crapload of gear.

“People need stuff to buy for you,” she said again.

I get that, but part of me would rather register for what I really need. I mean, I’m going to get plenty of clothes regardless, and I’m going to make sure I register for stuff like onesies and sleeper gowns and receiving blankets and crib sheets and a baby monitor and all the basic essentials. But if there’s a piece of gear that seems superfluous—like a bassinet, which I can find used for $40 online (or hopefully can find for free)—wouldn’t it be better for people to put the money they might have spent on a bassinet on something else? I mean, the bassinet is used for a couple of months, tops. Why in the world do I need a new one?

Take that money and go in with someone (or several someones) and get me my overpriced but highly rated Brit*ax carseat for when the sproglet is over 25 pounds, thanks. That’ll be a bigger help.

Relative to Stuff, I’m having to resist crocheting baby gear, as I’ve been informed by numerous people that they’re covering those bases. Oh, well. Nothing wrong with crocheting for charity. (I cannot STAND to sit idle; if I’m watching a movie or TV, I have to do something else. Better crochet than munch.)

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Prenatal yoga continues to be a fantastic oasis in my week. I am the laziest lazy person to ever exemplify lazy, and yet I can’t wait to get there.

Last week, the wife of someone I work with started class. She actually used to work with me as well. We were not close, for reasons I won’t go into here, and she has about four brain cells in her entire head. Sadly, I’m pretty sure that none of those brain cells are aware of the fact that her husband’s been messing around with someone else since well before she got pregnant. (Nice.)

Of course, I can’t bring myself to feel too sorry for her. She was messing around with her now-husband while he was still married to his first wife, and his first wife had a newborn at home.

I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a better poster child for “you reap what you sow.”

It’d all be hilarious if there weren’t children involved.

Point and shoot

So this weekend, I went to a large chain superstore that sells baby stuff. I won't name it here, but if I say that babies are totally and always us, you know where I went.

I had set up my registry online earlier, so I walked in with friends and they handed me the little registry scan gun. People, fear the scan gun. For it is mighty and awesome.

I spent much of the time there letting one or the other of my friends use the gun; they had so much fun doing so that it seemed mean to keep it all to myself.

The main reason I went there, really, was to look at cribs. They're just all so fancy, but I finally found one with clean lines that won't require me to sell one of my kidneys to purchase it. I'm going to look around a bit more, but I like it.

(Did you know that drop-rail cribs basically don't exist any more, for safety reasons? Who knew. I survived mine, but they're apparently a menace.)

Of course, I had to take a swing through the store and register for stuff while we were there. The biggest realization is how heavily gendered everything is. You can hardly buy a diaper pail without it being pink or blue, people-- it's ridiculous. I like pink. I'd venture to say I love pink. But the little sproglet doesn't need to have Every Single Thing In Her World be pink, or feature a girly pattern. What's wrong with brightly colored, gender neutral patterns? Nothing, except you can't find them.

(Crib bedding, especially, is sharply divided. There's very little that's not way on one end of the gender spectrum or the other.)

I didn't register for everything, as I'm also going to register at Tar*get and they have some things that I couldn't find at the superstore. I also need to hit up Cons*umer Reports and get ratings for car seats, strollers and high chairs, and I didn't see a baby bouncer I liked. So, not nearly done, and at least a few things I'm happy to get used.

There's something very mercenary about the whole "here's the list of stuff I want! Buy it for me!" concept. The only saving grace is that the registry is truly for stuff the sproglet is going to need; there's certainly some fluff on there, but it's largely necessities. So that's something.

Plus, the gun is fun.

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We have an election here tomorrow. I am not voting until after work, because I need to go online at lunch and figure out who the heck I am voting for. Sigh.