The Snarky Momma occasionally (okay, sometimes) reviews products on her review blog related to parenting, domestic goddess-try, and personal care. Her opinions are honest, based on her own experiences, and will be published even if she does not find the product satisfactory. She will always disclose how she got a product and whether she was compensated to talk about it. If you want to send her a product, contact her via email at tiffany [at] snarkymomma [dot] com.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Hi, there.
39 weeks. Still pregnant.
It starts to get pretty wearying at this point, you know? Especially with the realization that I could easily go another week or more.
I’m just tired at this point. I’m tired of waiting for strangers to come in and dirty up my house. I’m tired of staying out of the way so they can go back and forth through my front room all day. I’m tired of not being able to do anything on my own schedule. I’m tired of escorting Rosco to the bathroom every time he needs to go in order to make sure he doesn’t step on stray nails or that he doesn’t pee with the door wide open. I’m tired of having to relay messages from the contractor to Scott (and vice versa). I’m tired of not having clean laundry because I don’t know where the hell to put it (we have no closet right now).
I’m tired of not sleeping well. I think that’s the worst part. The sleep you get when you have a newborn in the house isn’t all that awesome because it’s so broken up, but at least it’s comfortable sleep. Right now, I wake up probably every hour or so to roll over because of the pain I get in my abdominal muscles from having all that weight stretch out the side I’m laying on.
I am one cranky witch right now. Truly. Especially with all the heat. Fortunately, Rosco self-entertains for the most part, so whenever possible I grant myself some space. I’m sure he’d love to do something outside this house, though, but logistically it’s hard to manage right now. I’m hoping I can get the DVDs Rosco and I checked out of the library back today before 6. Would hate to pay late fees on Thomas the Tank Engine movies (now in CGI!!!!!).
Anyway. I think the baby dropped sometime in the past couple of days, which explains why my maternity shirts are suddenly too short. Supposedly, in second (and subsequent) pregnancies, once the baby positions him/herself over the birth canal you’re supposed to go into labor relatively soon after. Like, within a couple of days. yeahright. Problem is she’s not really making sustained impact (probably doesn’t have room to), so there’s no force there to cause contractions. The contractions I have are basically fluff at this point, but they’re happening more and more frequently and covering more territory (that’ll make sense to some of you).
Well. I guess I’ll go sanitize some pacifiers or something.
I’m not much of a talker. I’m a sitter-and-listener. It’s not that I have any particular aversion to communication, but I just hate expending the physical energy required to “shoot the shit.”
Rosco, on the other hand, will talk you right to insanity. This is why I spend most of my day at least 25 paces away from him. No kidding. If I’m in his line of sight, he feels the uncontrollable urge to narrate everything going on around him. (He doesn’t do this to Scott for some reason.) Here’s an example:
”Dinosaur Train is coming up next, Momma. I love Dinosaur Train. Do you like Dinosaur Train, Momma? Look, Momma, this is an orange block. I’m going to make a fire with my orange block. Look, Momma. Momma, are you typing? You’re using a computer, Momma. Do you like using the computer, Momma? Dinosaur Train is coming up next, Momma. Momma, I’m going to take a nap on the sofa. I need my blanket, Momma. *lays on sofa for 15 seconds and then jumps up* Momma, do you like the kitty cats, Momma? I like Bodie. She’s a good cat. Is Bodie a good cat, Momma? Cats shouldn’t pee on the floor, but our cats pee on the laundry room floor. *Dinosaur Train comes on, kid starts making pterodactyl noises* Momma, I love you. *jumps on me, makes me go “oof!”* Is Daddy coming home soon, Momma? I want to play with his iPad. I like the memory game on his iPad.”
And so on for as long as he can see me. For a person like me who appreciates stillness and quiet, this sort of interaction can explode a brain. He won’t move on until you at least acknowledge him with a “Mm hmm” or some other sound. Nap-taking? Not going to happen.
I’m still trying to piece together what the doc meant last week when he said I didn’t look like I was full term. I mean, don’t I (Scott)? [I tried taking a picture this morning, but I looked like a bloated zombie from the angle. I’ll try again much, much later.] I’m certainly measuring on-target. I’ve gained (yes, I’m about to admit this) more than 30 pounds. Those Oreo cookies have to go somewhere, after all.
The doctor asked if I’d been exercising regularly and I wanted to cackle manically. The only exercise I get is carrying Rosco from Point A to Point B during those moments when he forgets who outranks whom. [What’s different between this pregnancy and my pregnancy with Rosco is that I’m lacking the arm flab and the second full chin. Oh, and about 10 pounds of water weight.] Instead of laughing like an insane person, I just told the doctor “No.” He then asked, “Well, what’s your secret?”
I shrugged and said “Luck.” (I wanted to say “pixie dust” but I really don’t want anyone making a “SMART ASS” notation in my medical file.)
I don’t know what it is that makes me look so [supposedly] un-9th month. Maybe it’s because I don’t waddle? *shrugs*
My freakin’ hip is out, and the leg that’s attached to it is intermittently numb and throbby. I’ve been having problems with my right hip on and off throughout the pregnancy, but yesterday was the first time the left side gave me any issues. Actually, I don’t know if this is sciatica or just something very similar.
Do you know how hard it is to walk without use of a hip? I look like a Raggedy Ann doll - no joints, no bones. Oh my God it hurts so bad that I’m mewing like a cat every time I take a step. The right side would usually shut down for an hour or so and would ebb, but the left side is persisting. I think there’s some additional nerve compression on that side because Em’s head is pointed more towards the left side of my pelvis. I’m seriously so uncomfortable that if this persists there’s a good chance that when I go to my OB appointment tomorrow I’ll grab my doc by the lapels and scream at him to induce me. (I wouldn’t really. Yes I would. Naw… ...)
Right now I’m sitting at Rosco’s low kiddie table with my leg up on it, trying to open up my hip joint. Also, the contractor and his dudes are here banging loudly and installing drywall. Rosco, knowing that there are people in the house, is testing my limits and seeing which buttons he can press (and probably knowing that I can’t chase him right now). If he would let me lay down on the sofa for a little while this would be an excellent day, but no - he doesn’t allow me on the sofa. He treats me like a hairy dog when it comes to the sofa.
All right. Sorry to bitch. I just feel miserable. Please, contractor dude, don’t ask me to get up for anything.
Ha ha. You know what? Our house isn’t going to be finished before this baby is born unless some sort of Christmas in July (or June) miracle happens.
When the contractor dude left on Friday he told me he’d be back on “Tuesday or Wednesday” with the drywall dude. Okay. That’s Tuesday or Wednesday as in tomorrow or the next day.
...
He anticipated the tile going into the bathroom around Friday or so.
...
Okay, so assuming we let that floor cure over the weekend (maybe they do the bedroom floor at the same time?), we should be able to slap some paint up NEXT WEEK.
If this kid comes during week 40 we’re already S.O.L. because the house is going to reek fantastically from the polyurethane, trim paint, and bathroom semi-gloss (?). Won’t be such a problem if kid comes during week 41…for the kid anyway. (Momma would have lost her ever-loving mind, though.) The ideal situation is that the crew squeezes all that shit in this week and try to git ‘r dun by this weekend, but of course we can’t dictate a contractor’s schedule.
Here are some big changes.
Recessed lighting in the bedroom:
Initially I worried that four cans would make the room too bright (it is a bedroom afterall), but it turned out that since the room is such a cave four cans is not that big a deal.
There are still a couple of holes in the ceiling that need to be patched. One is from where the ceiling fan was removed and the other is from the light fixture that used to be at the center of the room…back when the room was bigger.
Here’s the new shower:
I know it’s a shitty angle: sorry. The door and fixtures haven’t been installed yet. We also got a new receptacle installed in the bathroom since there were no functional ones in there before (yeah, makes blow-drying your hair real easy).
Well, there’s your update. Ain’t nothin’ happening.
Okay, maybe that’s not the whole truth, but you grasp the general idea. I haven’t had my cervix looked at (or poked) to see if I’m dilating, and I haven’t asked them to. Even if I am dilating and effacing that doesn’t mean diddly squat: the amniotic sac is intact, so I can walk around for weeks like that. I think doctors at UNC might be becoming a bit more conservative when it comes to pelvic checks. That’s good - it’s a step towards the “let mom’s body do what it needs to” method of medicine. The doctor told me to make appointments for the NEXT FOUR WEEKS on my way out. *faints*
*revives*
Yeah, I didn’t go that far. I already have appointments set up through July 1, and if I go longer than that I’ll just have them squeeze me in wherever. I don’t want to have to call and cancel a bunch of appointments. My blood pressure is normal (hell, my blood pressure would be good for even a NON-pregnant woman) and I’m gaining weight at a normal pace. They’re not going to bother the kid unless my body starts revolting and no one has even brought up the idea of stripping my membranes (which is a discomfort I’ll spare myself from unless I end up post-due date).
And what’s my body doing? Lots of Braxton-Hicks. Some cramps in a low-down place. My hips are loosening up. Occasional pressure on the birth canal. From what I’ve learned about 2nd pregnancies, you can go from having no signs of labor to having a baby hours later, so I’m just kind of “Eh” about keeping track of things right now. I did install a couple of contraction tracking apps on my iPhone. It’s hard to keep up with little pieces of paper (especially when you’re in bed), so that should be helpful…for whenever I do have contractions.
In house news - the master “suite” is a hot mess. Literally. Video proof:
There’s something really calming about knitting with pink yarn. It makes me downright giddy, which is strange because I’m really not a huge fan of girly pink stuff. I suppose I can attribute that to the fact that as a kid my sister always got pink stuff and I got whatever other color was on the rack. “Tiffany” and “Pink” don’t really go in the same conversation.
The thing about teeny-tiny baby clothes is that so much of it comes in varying shades of pink, and sometimes it’s downright irresistible.
My friend is having a little girl a few weeks after I’m due and I needed to send her a shower gift. I’m not attending the shower because it’s in my hometown: a three hour drive from here. She’s not registered anywhere, so figuring out what to do for a gift flustered me. I usually give really practical stuff, but if you don’t know what everyone else is buying it’s hard not to duplicate. Also, unless I go to, say, WalMart, and bought a gift there she’d have a hell of a time trying to exchange it if she needed to. There’s no Target in that part of the state, and y’all know I don’t go to Wally World unless under duress.
I ended up getting her—or her baby, rather—a little outfit at Carter’s when we were there over the weekend. That didn’t seem like enough for a Tiffany-gift, so I decided to knit up a little pair of booties to go with.
I had a pattern in my Ravelry queue for a little while that I was going to start for Em whenever I bought the right yarn. I figured it’d be the perfect thing, so I picked up some cotton yarn at that place where craft addicts go and altered the pattern for gauge.
I love that they’re not itty-bitty, but are wearable within the first few weeks after birth. Rosco couldn’t fit newborn-sized socks and booties because he had long feet like a bunny. I made this pair larger than minuscule for that very reason. Definitely going to make another little pair for Em.
I’m awake and partially dressed. That’s more than I can say for most other mornings. Normally, I don’t try to be productive any sooner than the last hour of The Today Show, but I didn’t have a choice. Scott said the work dudes are supposed to be here at around 8:30…scratch that. 9:15. Just got a call. So, I woke up with the birdies to make sure that I put on a bra, washed my face, and slipped into a pair of pants that aren’t holey. Haven’t brushed my teeth yet, though. (They just need to stay out of my face: easy enough.)
Rosco is fed and in front of cartoons. Escorting him to the bathroom all day is going to be a chore. Normally he uses it with the door open and shouts “I’M DONE!” when he needs a wipe. Can’t really do that when there are a bunch of strangers carrying demolition items down your hallway. I hope he stays entertained all day since a) we can’t leave the house until these dudes quit for the evening, and b) it’s hot as fuck outside.
The cats are circling around trying to figure out why the house has new obstacles all over (and Bodie is rubbing herself against a cardboard box filled with bathroom stuff). They’ll find out soon enough. Once the crew rings the doorbell for the first time today they’ll probably hide behind a bookcase and not come out until they’re gone.
I’ve got a couple of errands I *have* to run today, so timing those is going to be a huge pain in the ass.
Anyway, I promised some “Before” shots, but they don’t make sense unless you get a 360 of the rooms. I’ll have to run back there and do a video if there’s batteries in my Flip. Instead, here’s a picture of what we’re sleeping in.
Yay.
Well, let me go start the dishwasher just in case the dudes fuck up our water supply somehow later.
So, the dudes are coming tomorrow morning to start work in our master “suite.” Scott says they’ll be here at around 8:30 and that they’ll be doing demo work.
Okay, see, here’s the problem. I don’t get up that early unless I have a doctor’s appointment. The fetus trying to claw her way out of my abdomen wakes me up throughout the night, so there’s a good chance that at 8:30 I’m working on going back to sleep (while Rosco watches cartoons). In my world, 8:30 is really freaking early. (I bet you wonder how I ever managed to get to work on time.) I’m wired to be a night owl, so these early-in-the-day disruptions bother me.
Anyway, my little What to Expect iPhone app says that as of today I have 2 weeks and 4 days left before I’m 40 weeks. I seriously, seriously doubt I’m going to make it that long. Call it a hunch…or call it a highly scientific guess based on the fact that the kidlet is trying to jackhammer through my pelvic floor.
Let’s do some conservative estimations. Okay. Assuming they get all the stuff out tomorrow (old shower, toilet, vanity/sink, flooring, extraneous wall, etc.), then they can start fixing the walls and fitting in plumbing items. Then I imagine they’d install lighting in both rooms before working on the flooring (which will need time to cure in both rooms). Paint can be slapped up whenever everything else is done so that it doesn’t get scuffed.
I’m visualizing this taking at least a week. If the kidlet doesn’t climb out before then, she’ll be lucky to come home to a house that doesn’t reek of paint and polyurethane.
Honestly, I’m not really stressed out about this as much as I’m annoyed about having people in my house all day with the front door open letting all the air conditioning out and all the mosquitoes in.
I’ll be back later to post some “before” pictures. We still need to clear stuff out of the room (seeing as how we’ve been sleeping in it).
I wonder if I should clean the toilet before they take it out. It’s got hard-water stains built-up. (It’s kind of embarrassing.)
If you said “the Carter’s outlet in Morrisville” you’d be exactly right.
Oh muh God. Sale! *squeeeeeeee!*
They’ve always got a sale of some sort, but this particular sale was super-awesome. I’d been eyeing a couple of different outfits for a while at other retail locations, but either they didn’t have the size I need for the season or they weren’t sale-y enough.
Some of the baby stuff was 60 and 70 percent off! (And that’s not even clearance stuff.) It made me feel much more okay with buying an item in newborn size that’ll only be worn once or twice (I don’t think this kidlet will meet Rosco’s birth weight, but will still come close to that NB size cut-off). We also got a few shirts for Rosco, including a “Big Brother” shirt
Here’s some of the swag:
Shopping for little girls is like some kind of drug (that Scott is resistant to, of course).
Scott just sent me an email asking whether I prefer him to take two weeks off or just one when Em is born.
Color me boggled. How the hell should I know?
It’s not like it’s a vacation by any means.
I don’t even remember how long he took off with Rosco. What I do remember was that Rosco had colic that could have had a parent with slightly less mental fortitude committed to an asylum. I also remember that I had some difficulties walking the first week, so that made the up-and-down of having a newborn extremely difficult. (No, I didn’t have a c-section. I had a tear [don’t remember the degree…2nd? 3rd?] and pretty bad diastasis recti.) Scott’s job during that early period was to just hand me the baby as he doesn’t have functional boobs. Since we’re using a co-sleeping bassinet this time, I don’t even need him for that. (Sounds harsh, but it’s true.)
As it is we’re living under the expectation that Scott will be sleeping on the sofa a lot of nights early on when he does go back to work. Even if he shuts off his hearing aids, me jostling our crappy-ass mattress every couple of hours to nurse is going to wake him up anyway. I don’t have to be coherent during the day - just lucid enough to prevent Rosco from burning the house down. Scott, on the other hand, actually has standards of performance at work. If Rosco were to give me a performance review right now I’d get exemplary markings just for the fact that he has clean underwear.
I dunno. I guess I’m just prepared for the misery this time whereas with Rosco I was certain life would immediately be unicorns and rainbows.
Lately we’ve been giving serious consideration to getting rid of one or both cats.
(Hear me out here before you start on a PETA-esque rant.)
We don’t have severe pet allergies or anything like that would make us need to get rid of the cats immediately. They’re just wrecking our house and neither are particularly great for kids to be around.
Bodie, the elder cat, has some waxy ear condition. Not sure what. The last time I took her to the vet they gave me some drops which we used and which did help…but, they only dried out her ear temporarily and she’s sloshing wax again. So, they never diagnosed the problem - they just gave me something to treat the symptoms. We have cat ear wax splattered all over our house, and let me tell you something: even if you catch the slosh IMMEDIATELY, it still stains unless it’s on top of eggshell or semi-gloss paint. One of us should take her back to the vet and have her ear more thoroughly examined as I think the problem is some sort of anatomical dysfunction and NOT an infection. (If it were an infection she’d have it in her other ear, too, I’d think. She’s had this waxiness issue pretty much forever.)
Bodie’s second issue is that she’s a revenge pisser. If we take a vacation (even just overnight) we’ll come back and find she’s made a puddle somewhere outside the laundry room. After last weekend’s beach trip we found one in the kitchen…next to the other cat’s food dish. I know it was her. Cats don’t make a habit of pissing where they eat - they think that’s gross - so I know it wasn’t the other cat.
In my opinion, right now Bodie has no redeeming qualities other than being a good-looking cat. She sheds as much as a long-hair and is the laziest animal ever. (You’d think she was designed to hibernate or something.) Oh - and she hates the other cat.
Now, on to Puffy. Puffy is a bit smaller than Bodie and a little younger. No health issues that we know of at the current time. She doesn’t really shed much, and she eats far less. She’s pretty good company as long as you don’t touch her in one of her “Grrrr!” moments.
Her real problem is that she can be almost feral at times. We’ve had her since she was about 6 weeks old so that’s mind-boggling to me. She will try to eat you and scratch you. She is NOT a cat that likes children. She actually hissed at Rosco when we brought him home from the hospital. Also, Puffy will pee on you while you sleep. I’m not kidding. She’s done this numerous times and I can think of at least three occasions. She’ll find a nook between your legs, pee there, and then move to another part of the bed to sleep. I’m pretty sure she does that to prevent Bodie from sharing primo sleeping spots.
BOTH cats piss all over the laundry room (where their litter boxes are). One cat will pee in the corner, so the other cat OF COURSE needs to pee on top of that pee to assert her dominance. It’s a never-ending cycle. During the cooler-weather months we just deal with it and clean as we can, but summer makes it unbearable because the humidity makes that ammonia smell waft through the house.
Puffy is pretty protective, though, which is kind of cute. She follows me from room to room throughout the day. So, I guess more than Bodie she really is my cat.
I’m just sick of dealing with it.
We’re either going to have to get rid of one (probably Bodie) or figure out some safe way to make them both outside cats.
I’m pretty cheap, but Rosco’s haircuts are one of those things I’d prefer to outsource to professionals. The problem is that they never get it right. You can explain what general shape you want them to cut, but there aren’t that many people who are proficient at cutting curly hair. They pretend really well, though. Most stylists that do little boy hair are only good at bowl cuts and buzz cuts - things like that.
This is why we usually give Rosco semi-annual shearings at home. It’s simple and doesn’t require a lot of skill. You just put in the 1” clipper guard and have at it. He loses a lot of his charm with his curls, but eventually it all grows back.
Thing is, I prefer Rosco with a little more hair, but it can get kind of wild-looking because it’s not uniformly curly. I submit Exhibit A:
His hair is wet in the front, but you get the idea. When it gets to a certain length the curl is basically exhausted and the hair falls into his eyes and ears.
All I wanted was to get the hair out of his face and ears and trim it up in the back so he doesn’t look like he has a mullet. I wanted to leave some fullness at the crown of his head and for those layers to actually grow out a bit so his head doesn’t look like an ice cream cone with two separate scoops (I had that haircut once - it was soul-crushing). You can’t be that exacting with a set of clippers, so I got out my spray bottle and scissors and snipped curls here and there.
(By the way - this is really hard to do when you have a child who can’t sit still.)
There are a couple of different schools of thought on how to cut curly hair. If you cut it dry it’s easier to see the curl, but if you cut it wet it’s easier to get it even. Dude, I did the best I could. I wet it, but snipped based on where curls ended rather than on any specific length.
I floofed it when I was done to make sure it was all uniform and then sent him off to play while it dried.
Eh. It’s all right. Better than it was before. A little denser in the front than I’d like, but can’t really do anything about that without leaving it long and resorting to headbands and barrettes.
Over the past few weeks I’ve been trying to get my ducks in a row with this whole cloth diapering thing. Once you commit to doing it, you kinda have to go whole-hog, you know? I haven’t even bothered to stock up on any newborn or size 1 diapers. Whatever we get sent home from the hospital with is what we’ll have as far as those goes.
A nearby stand-alone birth center, WBWC, has a boutique where you can buy pregnancy and natural baby stuff for pretty much the same price you’d pay if you ordered it online. I’m happy that I found out they carried cloth diapers and supplies, because it was the first opportunity I had to stand in front of all the different types you can buy and learn about them through osmosis. I think I stood in front of those displays for a good 20 minutes before I decided which approach to take.
I finally decided to do the prefold + soaker/wrap route. It’s a decision purely based on economy. Since Em won’t be in daycare (in the foreseeable future) and because I don’t leave the house frequently, it didn’t make sense for me to do a all-in-one system. Those make it convenient if other people need to diaper your child or if you’re on the go, but if you’re home you’re probably okay with a less streamlined system. I also like that if I do a cotton diaper with a wool cover we can probably be proactive in and eliminate the rash problems we had with Rosco.
I bought 25 DSQ (diaper service quality) unbleached prefolds from WBWC, and then got a box of Trader Joe’s powder detergent to use on them (it’s an additive-free detergent - the liquid, on the other hand, is not).
Now, when you buy new diapers you have to go through this pre-washing ritual to remove all the gumminess from the cotton and the general gunk that builds up during the manufacturing process. Depending on what kind of water you have, you may end up washing them five times before they ever get used.
Um…here’s how they looked during the first wash:
That’s just fabric gunk - no poop or pee.
That freaked me out a bit, to be honest, and I started questioning what I was getting myself into. Fortunately, during the third wash the water was clear and they didn’t need another cycle after that. So, those are ready to go and waiting a baby to wear them.
I’m still working on soakers. I made two (see picture above) and have a third in process. I used three different patterns because I don’t know what I’ll like the best. All three are wrap-style, though, just for ease of removal. The good thing about wool is if it gets peed on you don’t have to wash it: you just let it dry out and there won’t be stink.
Just to see if I like it, I ordered a Thirsties Duo Wrap this morning. It’s not breathable like wool, but they may be more trustworthy than my own knitting when we’re out and about. (Not that my knitting sucks at all, but you know what I mean…) If I end up liking them I fear I may have to buy them in every color.
I’m at that place in pregnancy where you can’t tell if your contractions are ones you should pack a bag and head for the hospital for. (Actually, I need to go ahead and pack that bag now, anyway.)
Braxton-Hicks contractions are usually painless. The uterus tightens up and can feel a bit crampy for a few seconds, but it’s really more like pressure than pain. It doesn’t take your breath away. I usually just poke at the tight spots until they loosen up. It’s fun because I can see where Em’s little butt is when they happen.
True contractions are supposed to radiate from your lower back down to your cervix. The rule of thumb is that if they take your breath away or make you stop walking - they’re “real” contractions.
Sometimes you get some crazy stuff that’s neither nor. The contractions are actually painful, but they don’t start in the right place. They may stop you in your tracks, but they don’t come at any regular interval.
“They” call this “false labor.” Supposedly these contractions are toning things up and starting effacement of the cervix to get you ready for labor. Well, it made our ride home from the coast a li’l bit miserable last night. I was sitting there thinking “Please let us get home before I need to make a decision about this.” I imagine this is why women in their last month aren’t supposed to travel that far from home. The cramping didn’t ease up until I was asleep.
I’m not contracting at all this morning, but man, what a warning that we need to get shit together. I know I had some false labor with Rosco, but it was pretty close to the 40-week mark. Yikes.
39 weeks. Still pregnant.
