Um -- Who Said He Could Take Over?

My pelvis is no longer my own.

And, it's just not fair.

The fun scan last week showed that "the boy" is head down -- head and little fists right down above my pelvis. And, judging from the punches and head-butting going on, he has claimed that space as HIS and no one else's.

If I wear low rise pants . . . .I get punched in the pelvis.

If I lean over while in a sitting position . . . I get punched in the pelvis.

If the Little Lady sits on my thighs and rests against me . . . I get punched in the pelvis.

WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS????
A WWE PRIZE FIGHTER?

This tot has only been around for 5 months and he already thinks he can be the boss of ME?????

And, why the need for such violence? I'm just the mom . . . the incubator . . . the person who made him AND the chick making sure he gets all of the nutrients, water, and Dr. Pepper he needs. Why the rough treatment?

Sigh.

It's only going to get worse, isn't it?

Revelation

All sorts of things were learned at our latest Doctor's appointment this past Tuesday.

The Little Lady learned that scales are fun to jump on.



We all learned the baby's gender (more on that in a second).



And, my Hubby learned how IUDs are inserted and removed.

No -- I'm not planning on getting one, but my doctor had a "teaching tool" on the counter. Hubby was too curious to pass it up. Sigh.



I'm not sure why the various medical models always draw that boy's attention; I was TERRIFIED that my doctor would walk in on Hubby intently attempting to "learn" all that the model had to offer. (Grrrrrr!)

As far as the Anatomy/Gender scan went, it was GREAT! For a few weeks leading up to the visit, I had been dreading the scan. Oh, I was excited and anxious to learn our baby's gender, but I was so afraid that we would learn something was terribly wrong.

Praise God - this baby is perfectly formed and perfectly healthy. In fact, our baby is measuring about a week ahead at a little over 12 ounces. Woo hoo!!!!!!

The Little Lady was oblivious to all that we learned during the scan; she was too concerned with her cookies and the fact that the lights were all turned off. This was not the case for Mommy and Daddy. We were intently watching the screen, waiting for any glimpse that would tell us what pronoun we could start using to describe our baby.

And, we saw it.

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The Little Lady is getting a Little Brother!!!!

I have suspected it this entire pregnancy -- I can't explain why. I haven't had a ton of dreams or anything like that. I just assumed, since I have no brothers, no knowledge of how to care for baby boys, and very little knowledge on boys in general, I would end up with a boy!

Despite the fact I know NOTHING about "Team Blue," I am INCREDIBLY EXCITED about our little guy -- excited that we will be getting a whole new experience . . . new shopping, new toys, and new joys.

I can't wait!!!!


(by the way -- the results of the poll? 50% of you thought it would be a boy. HA!)

The Sweetest Profile -- EVER

Stay tuned for "THE GENDER RESULTS" and, of course, another tale about my silly Hubby and the Doctor's anatomy prop!!!!

PSF: So Much For A Girls' Night . . .

It was supposed to be fun -- just the two of us -- no boys allowed.

Instead, it was painful. PAINFUL.

Apparently, a tired, moody, pregnant woman and a tired, moody teething toddler can't have fun past seven o'clock. And if you're both hungry, waiting on a pizza to cook . . . it is even WORSE.

Sigh.

I had such hope and excitement as I looked forward to our Thursday evening: Daddy would be out late; The Little Lady and I would make a delicious pizza; we would be creative and color BEEYOUTEEFUL Easter eggs.

I forgot (oh, HOW did I forget) there is a reason as to why I gleefully look forward to Daddy's homecoming each evening: The Little Lady after 7 pm is a MUCH different Little Lady.

There were Tears. Screams. Sighs. Things were thrown. She was A Little Hyde -- no longer a sweet wee little thing. I was scared.

Did I mention she's teething?????? Thank you very much, Two Year Molars.

Then, I brought out the ingredients for the pizza, and -- for a few glorious moments -- all was right with the world.

The Little Lady helped me stir and flatten the dough, but her REAL job was to be in charge of the cheese (a fact of which she reminded me every time I tried to help: "MY TUHN, MOMMY," she would yell, pushing my hand away).





Our peaceful, fun time, however, was short lived. As soon as the pizza was in the oven, the Little Lady reverted back to the screaming banshee of earlier. . . .oh, wait. I think I called her a Little Hyde, didn't I? Well, anyway -- it wasn't a pretty sight or experience.

Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, pacified her. The wait for our pizza was horrible . . .especially since I accidentally turned the oven off when the pizza went in. AHHH!!!!!! Was NOTHING to go right during this evening?

Finally, after realizing my mistake and turning the oven back on, our dinner was ready. She was happy again . . . for a little bit.

GRRRRRRR you incoming teeth!!!!!

The Easter eggs stayed white and bedtime came early last night. Our girls' night was definitely NOT a success but at least we both got to eat. That's always a plus in my world.

Of course, when Daddy came home, he couldn't understand why I was passed out on the couch . . . with pizza sauce all over me.

The look I gave him when he woke me up told him that he should drop the matter. Which, he did.

He's a smart boy sometimes.





Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Call Me Mary (of the Non Virgin Variety)

My poor confused Little Lady.

Little does my wee tot know, but her statements Monday night would have gotten us stoned or burned at the stake several hundreds of years ago. The crime? Heresy.

The Little Lady believes that Mommy is going to give birth to . . . .

(wait for it)

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BABY JESUS!!!!!!!!!!

Monday night, as I attempted to rock my stubborn child to sleep, The Little Lady pulled out all the stops, desperately trying to stay awake. We read books, sang songs, and prayed three times.

I think it was the multitude of songs and prayers that caused her to reach her faulty conclusion. These days, her favorite songs are she has learned while at Sunday School. Since she is still in the baby class, her class is all about singing. . . including a few songs about Baby Jesus.

As we sat, rocking and rocking and rocking . . . and singing and singing and singing her Sunday School songs, The Little Lady abruptly sat up in my lap, with a puzzled look on her face.

"Where Baby Desus go," she asked -- her little hands raised above her shoulders.

Before I could give her a complete, theologically sound answer, she reached her own conclusion.

With absolute certainty, the Little Lady lifted my shirt, exposing my swollen, baby filled stomach.

"Der he is!"

And, with that discovery, she leaned over and kissed my baby/belly/Baby Jesus.

Um . . . anyone have ANY ideas how to explain to a 22 month old the truth? I've tried, but I am NOT getting through to her!

Holy Cow (emphasis on the cow part)

Public Service Announcement: today's blog post does contain some unusual information and discussion. If you are a guy (although, why would you be given the majority of my audience is family or fellow mommy bloggers), I would highly recommend that you turn back NOW.

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Whoa.

What the heck???

THIS is starting NOW ! ? ! ? ! ? ! ?

I'm talking about discovering . . .

Liquid gold in them thar hills . . .

Mother's tea . . .

The non-bovine version of your favorite breakfast drink . . .
That's right, gals.

L to the ACTATION.

To say that I was not prepared and shocked is an understatement. At first, I couldn't figure out what was going on and came to the naive conclusion that I was sweating. Not that I'd ever sweat on top of Old Smokey (ies) before, but -- hey . . . I've learned anything is possible when your pregnant.

Then I realized sweat was typically colorless.

H. O. L. Y. C. O. W.
(literally)

I have to admit, when I figured it out, my stomach turned a little bit. I escaped morning sickness, but the sight of milky white (pun intended) liquid seeping out of a previously dry area was a nearly more than my tummy could handle. Why? I have ABSOLUTELY no idea.

It was just weird.

I'm sure I'll get used to it and will become comfortable with it . . . eventually.

My husband, on the other hand, may never become accustomed to this new phenomenon.

By the way, in case you were wondering, YES. My husband did revert to his 12 year old self when I informed him of our new pregnancy development. There were 12-year-old-boy comments, jokes, snickers, and pranks galore.

Sigh.

I don't think I want him in the room the first time I attempt breast-feeding.

More "S" Drama

I realized that I never shared proof of the Little Lady's "Stinky Sock" debacle. So, here now for all to see, I present . . .

"The Little Lady gets Kinky . . . (em) Stinky."
(originally aired for our June Mom/Baby group)