The birth

I'm going to go ahead and recap my birth story, for me and anyone interested. If you don't want the gory details (and I don't blame you) just skip this post. You've been warned.

I was really on the fence about an induction. I didn't want to force her out before she was ready, but given Mabes' size and speed, my doctor was willing to induce a little early. We had the date set for today, but last night I kept going back and forth. Plus, with it being the last day of the year, I thought we might get bumped. I decided that if L&D called this morning with space for me, then it was meant to be, but if I got bumped, I'd try not to be too disappointed.

I slept pretty poorly last night, and at 6:24 L&D called and offered to let me come in. I said we'd be there, hung up, and turned to Dave, "So...you want to have a baby today?" We took a picture before heading in, and I appreciate Dave standing in for comparison.



We got to L&D shortly after 8, I changed and settled into my bed and went through all the questions. A little after 8:30, my doctor came in, checked me (4 cm, still 80% effaced, -2 station), broke my water and started the pitocin. No going back now! Contractions were steady but bearable, though they warned me that if I wanted the epidural, it would take 30 minutes. I was feeling fine. Not much changed in the next 2 hours, though my nurse was happy with my contraction pattern. She checked me after an hour, and I was still 4 cm. I was starting to rethink the induction and worry that my body wasn't ready, this could take all day, and possibly end in a c-section (yeah, I'm impatient).

I wasn't sure about the epidural, because on the one hand, I didn't want it to stall labor, but on the other, I had heard that some women progress faster with the epidural because it allows their bodies to relax. The contractions were still bearable, but I didn't know how long they'd stay that way. So I told the nurse I might be wanting the epidural soon. A couple of contractions later--"Um, do you think I could get the epidural now?" Still not terrible (not like with Mabes), but I knew it wasn't going to get better.

Putting in the epidural seemed to take longer than with Mabes, but it was in by 11:30. I was feeling a lot of pressure (like I had to poop), but they said that was normal and just the baby slowly descending. I only remember back pain with Mabes. With the epidural in, the contractions soon subsided, but the other pain was increasing. My nurse checked me and I was at 6 cm, -1 station. Progress! I was relieved that the epidural seemed to be helping my body do it's job. A few minutes later (maybe 11:45 am), I was feeling great between contractions, but when one would hit, I told my nurse "Seriously, I need to poop." She said it was probably the baby and she'd check me again--8 cm! She left to page the doctor and get the delivery cart.

At this point, I'm still thinking I've got a way to go. Even when I was fully dilated with Mabes, it took 2 hours to push her out. Everyone assured me that it would go faster this time, so I was hoping for 30 minutes, but bracing myself for 45-60. Let's be realistic here, right? The nurse was gone for all of 5 minutes and I was still feeling terrible. I pressed the nurse call button, and Dave asked what was wrong and what he could do. I just clenched the bedrail, "It's embarrassing."

The nurse came back and I just said, "I'm going to poop. Now. I know it happens in delivery and you're used to it, but I just thought I'd give you a heads up. I'm really sorry, but I can't move and I need.to.poop.now." I was mortified, but the pain was greater. The nurse assured me I wasn't pooping and that it was the baby. I wanted to argue that I was only 8 cm and that I was, in fact, about to crap the bed. (All dignity flies out the window during labor.) She checked me and turned to the other nurse, "10 cm, +3 station--has the backup doctor been paged?" Then she turned to me, "The doctor will be here in just a minute. Until then, breathe like you're blowing out candles and just try to hold it." Awesome. I never had the urge to push with Mabes, so this was a whole new (rather disconcerting) sensation. People kept coming in--techs, baby nurses, it was quite the audience--but no doctor.

Dr. Bland came in at 12:15 and I've never been so happy to see someone. "I can push now, right?" No, he needs his gloves on. This made no sense to me, as he could do that during the practice pushes, right? It's going to take at least a half hour, and surely he can get his gloves on by then. But I blew the freakin' candles out through one more contraction, they put my legs up in the stirrups, and while we waited for the next contraction someone commented on the baby having a lot of hair. Uhhhh...you can see her head? And hair? "Okay, push!"

I pushed once, but knew I could do better. Took another breath, then pushed hard. Then all of a sudden, I just felt an odd feeling of something coming out. "What IS that?" I look down and see a head. "Okay, Allison, one more push--not too hard--and she'll be all the way out" my nurse calmly told me. I did as I was told but was thinking, 'how is this possible? I thought we were still on practice pushes?' And then she was out, crying, and I was crying in disbelief.

Delivering the placenta was not as easy, and the first couple of hours after delivery were rough. But comparing it to the pain and discomfort of the last few weeks, and being able to look at this adorable little girl made bearable.

She's an absolute doll and I can't wait for Mabes to meet her.

She's here!

It got late and I'm tired, so I'll post more tomorrow. But here's a glimpse of what we're ringing in the New Year with!



Still no name. She was born at 12:19 pm weighing in at 8 lbs 9 oz (respectable, but still a full pound less than Mabes) and 21 1/4 inches long. I've had a great day just holding her.


And Moom, I know I said I'd email first, but I'm tired and I'm going to sleep now. Promise. I figured you'd like that more...

Well...

We're headed to the hospital. I've waffled back and forth on this, but they have room, I'm having contractions, my doctor is on call today, so we'll see. We'll update soon!

Christmas

Christmas was lovely. After a hectic couple of weeks (months?) of packing, moving, unpacking, preparing for Christmas, and preparing for baby, Christmas was the first time in a long time I was able to just do nothing. Well, after presents and a breakfast with homemade cinnamon rolls. (I use my mom's dinner roll/cinnamon roll recipe. The dinner rolls the night before weren't as good as my mom's, but I must say, the cinnamon rolls were among my best.) Once breakfast was over, Mabes spent the day playing with her new toys, riding her new bike, and playing Wii with Dave. I did nothing. It was perfect.

Here's Mabes in the nightgown I made for her. I forgot that kids' patterns run big. It's kind of huge on her, but hey--she can wear it for years to come! She was very excited about her "princess Barbies" and insisted on holding all of them.

Riding her new bike from Grandma Jackie. It was raining so she couldn't ride it outside. Thankfully, we have a lot of space and not much furniture, so she could ride inside. She's wearing her crown from her Christmas Cracker.

And I'm still waiting on my big present. I woke up yesterday at 2:40 with contractions, crampiness, and back pain which continued for an hour and a half or so until I was able to fall back asleep. It started up again when I got up, and just as I was about to call the doctor, it eased up. This happened all day yesterday--timeable, regular (3-5 minutes apart) contractions for a couple of hours, then they spread out/stop just before I call. The contraction-timing app on my iPod is getting quite the workout (yes, they have apps for everything!). I didn't sleep well last night due to said contractions, and Mabes has impeccable timing and is able to whine or throw a fit while I'm having a contraction. Awesome. I was telling people at church on Sunday that I felt surprisingly good and thought the baby might be staying there for a few more weeks. After yesterday? Let's just say that Mabes and I are going for a long walk as soon as all the frost melts.

Oh, and happy birthday Nancy! I'm doing my best to let this baby share a birthday with the most awesome aunt!

Mabes realizes we're ridiclious

We were (again) talking names, and given the time of year, I had been saying I'd be open to using a Christmas-y middle name as long as it wasn't obvious like Noelle or Santa. Dave said that he actually really liked Noelle (and Santa, but that's a given), and Mabes just snorted and gave us a look.

"Mommy, you can't name da baby Noelle! Dat's not a baby name, dat's in a Christmas song! You can't name a baby after a song, dat would be ridiclious!"

Yes, yes it would.


And as a sidenote, yes I'm still pregnant, and yes I'm huge. I'm getting the giant eyes/crazy comments when I go out. The Hee Teeter checker told me it looked like the baby was so low she was probably coming out any second, and I swear she breathed an audible sigh of relief when I left the store, bag of waters (::shudder:: I hate that phrase, but weird people call for creepy phrases) still in tact.

Goals, people

Some friends threw a "last girl's night out before baby" for me last night and I just laughed when I opened this gift from Alisa. She says she's thinking positive for me. I'll admit I'm not the most patient person, and I really want to meet little Miss Corleone, so it could be fun to have her before Christmas. But then I realize that would be sometime in the next week, and holy ned, that's soon. Plus I was banking on having Mabes weeks early and that blew up in my face--not fun. So I put it out of my head. But then my mom says, "You know, I'm going to Arizona next week, and people have babies when I go to Arizona..." (One person, one baby...not exactly statistically significant.) Fortunately, there are plenty of other things going on to distract me from wondering when she'll make her entrance.

It was a great night with plenty of delicious food, fabulous friends, lots of laughing, and did I mention food? Awesome friends make what could be the miserable last weeks of pregnancy quite fun.

Things I've learned...

(in the last couple of days, at least...)

1. How to make fudge.

My mom is a fudge snob. Years ago, she was complaining to a friend about how she had yet to find a good fudge recipe. Sue modestly said, "Well, I think my recipe is pretty good." It is perfect. So she showed my mom how to make it, and has even returned several times to give my mom refresher courses. Having been to one of these, and with the recipe in hand, I decided to attempt my first solo batch of fudge.

It was 9 pm Sunday night. I looked over the recipe and decided it should only take about 15 minutes, so hey, I'll make it while Dave's on the phone. By 10 I was calling my mom wondering why my sugar/milk mixture wasn't heating over 220 degrees. Stupid fudge! She figured it out (I didn't know I was supposed to use a ridiculously large pan), offered some other advice, and I was on my way. Totally worth the expected reprimanding I got for being up late making fudge. Come on, Mom. The only thing more important than sleep to a woman late in pregnancy is fudge. Or any other chocolate-based treat.

But then the milk started to burn, and as I stirred it into the other ingredients, it was clear that this wasn't my mom's fudge. Hers is pretty. Mine looked greasy. And things weren't melting right. Stupid fudge. I poured it in the pans, shoved it in the fridge, and left the kitchen a mess. I was fed up, and decided to stick with what I know: cookies.

Monday morning, I opened the fridge and looked at my fudge nemesis with disgust. Well, I might as well try it before throwing it out. I'm certainly not going to be able to give this crap away. To my utter disbelief, it wasn't terrible. It wasn't grainy or blooming or gritty, like so many other fudges I've tried. It was fantastic. Smooth, creamy, delicious. I'm still not sure if I'll give any away...it's quickly disappearing from my fridge. Thanks, Sue, your recipe is so awesome that it couldn't be screwed up by me.

2. Mabes and cough syrup don't mix.

I had a growth ultrasound and doctor's appointment Monday morning. Since Mabes has been talking about ultrasounds for months, I decided to bring her to the appointment. She was very excited to see her baby "stister." She had a cold and cough, and while that's not a big deal at my doctor's office (as long as there's no fever, which there wasn't), I still felt bad bringing a hacking kid in. Plus, she was complaining about her throat hurting when she coughed, so I decided to give her a cough suppressant. I know--I usually just let these things run their course, but in light of the circumstances, I made an exception. I shouldn't have.

On a positive note, her cough *was* suppressed. But that wasn't really noticeable, what with all the bouncing. Seriously. Mabes tends to be rather energetic as it is, but this was nuts. She was good for the ultrasound, and loved seeing the baby. But by the time I met with my doctor, she was jumping up and down telling him about her Nutcracker movie and how bad the mouse king is, how she saw her baby stister on the special computer and her hands were by her face, and how Christmas was coming up and we have a tree and presents and stockings! And at least she was bouncing in place and not running around the office--that counts for something, right?

I assured Dr. B that I wouldn't bring her to next week's appointment, and he just laughed and said he'll miss seeing Mabes after I have the baby. Really? I mean, really. But I appreciate that he cares enough to say nice things that may not be true to make me feel better.

3. Thanksgiving pictures don't post themselves.

I still need to get on that. And I should probably also pack a hospital bag. And figure out what exactly we're doing with Mabes (we have ideas/offers, but don't have anything concrete). And make sure Dave knows where we're going.

4. I'm giving birth to the Godfather.





















Before this, my latest ultrasound was 20 weeks, so it was really cool to see the detail at 37 weeks. You can see her nose! Mabes loved seeing her move around and the ultrasound was great. My doctor decided to order an ultrasound to check for fetal macrosomia, which is basically a big baby. Last week, he said "I don't think you're carrying a larger-than-average baby in there--I don't know where you'd be hiding a 9 pounder!" But then he caught himself and said, "But I bet your other doctor said that with Emaline, huh?" Yep.

The baby is measuring 7 pounds right now, so that puts me on track to deliver a 7.5-8.5 pound baby, depending on when she decides to make her debut. I know, I know--ultrasounds can be off by 2 pounds. But until I hear otherwise, I'm going to assume this baby will be 7.5 pounds at birth. The ultrasound tech said she's looking great, though, and despite the picture, the images of her moving around were fascinating. I was surprised to see her face well enough to see a strong resemblance to newborn Mabes, and am pretty sure she'll come out looking more like Mabes than Marlon Brando.

Well-played, Mabes

After a long morning of teaching Mabes' preschool (at our house! with Dave working! keeping noise to a moderate level was difficult...), I needed what I refer to as my happy pills. Mabes was playing in another room, and after grabbing my handful of M&Ms, I went to ask what kind of sandwich she wanted for lunch. She came over to hug me, and then just gave me a huge smile. "Mommy, you smell so good! You smell like...chocolate!" At least I didn't tell her it was avocado. I like to think that years from now, when her friends are saying what perfume makes them think of their moms, Mabes will say M&Ms. Or Junior Mints.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When we got back from Costco tonight, it was time to put Mabes to bed. She turned on the family room light as she headed to the bathroom and explained to me, "I'm turning dis light on so you and Daddy can talk. Because after I go to bed, you and Daddy stay up and talk for a while." Oh, really? She nodded and in a very matter-of-fact tone continued: "Yep. You stay up and talk about me. Like, how cute I am. And all the fings I do!" I didn't tell her our plans were Tivoed Glee, The Soup, and big bowls of ice cream.

Once she was in bed, Dave and I were in our room looking at the masses of boxes. Our ward's "Santa's Breakfast" is tomorrow, and this picture was sitting in one of the open boxes. He picked it up and commented on how little Mabes was. I was looking at it, amazed at how much she's grown and changed in 2 years. "Look at her, she's so cute!" was all I could say.

Dave just laughed and shook his head, "She was right. She went to bed, and here we are, talking about how cute she is." Well-played, Mabes.

Just realized something...

I'm having a baby. Presumably in the next 5 weeks. I've been aware of this for some time now, but I just got to the point where it's starting to seem real. We're getting settled into the house, all my baby stuff is piled in the baby's room, baby clothes are still in plastic bins but easily accessible, new stuff is still in bags but where I can see it on shelves...I'm feeling pretty good. And then I realize that given how fast the last few weeks have flown by, perhaps I should organize her room. Or pack a hospital bag. Or find out exactly where the hospital is. Or book a hospital tour. Or buy nursing pads and I can't even remember what else. I was way more on top of this with Mabes.

I'm not freaking out, I'm really just amused. I mean really, even if I do nothing in the next few weeks, I have what I need. Even if I don't know where. I can put my mom to work washing and organizing clothes. It's just crazy how in my head "I'm pregnant" or "I'm having a baby" doesn't translate into "seriously, get ready to have another baby around." I have been trying to prep myself for nightwakings, though, so that counts for something, right?

And after talking to Sarah yesterday, I realized that it's pool time. I was going to do one of those ExpectNet polls, but I think I liked Sarah's spreadsheet better. Plus I think ExpectNet only lets you have one entry. So here are the rules: Up to 3 entries, email me or comment here. Guess the date, size, time, and hair color. And name, if you want (I'm still taking suggestions!). Winner will get a $5 Coldstone gift card.

Background info: I'm due January 5. Mabes was *technically* 4 days early, but according to my OB, she was 2 days late (even though an early ultrasound--the most accurate for dating purposes--matched up with my later due date). This time, OB, ultrasound, and I agree. Mabes was 9 lbs, 9 oz, and though I felt huge, I measured normally and my doctor was predicting a 7.5 to maybe 8 pounder. I had a really fast labor, so between that and Mabes' size, my doctor may induce me a week early if my body is showing signs of being ready. Oh, and feel free to guess the length of labor. With Mabes, I was in "real" labor for I guess 3 1/2 hours, but 2 of those were spent pushing the behemoth out. I'm not sure if I'm more afraid of this one being faster or slower. Mabes was born at 11 am exactly, and with dark hair. It wasn't until a month later that it fell out and grew back in blond.

It's just an old wives' tale, right?

I know old wives' tales mean nothing. For example, "they" say that if you have bad heartburn during pregnancy, your baby will have tons of hair. I had raging heartburn with Mabes, and, well...

Exhibit A:

So I keep telling myself I'm just being silly when I start to wonder if the ultrasound was wrong. I mean, "they" say children have stronger instincts and know what the pregnant mom is having. Mabes was absolutely convinced it was a boy. "They" say if you're carrying low and out front, you're having a boy. I'm carrying much lower this time; some days it looks like I'm shoplifting watermelons. I keep pushing those thoughts out of my head, but the other day at the grocery store the checker asked, "Have we discussed what you're having yet?" I said I didn't think so, but I'm having a girl. "No you're not. With the way you're carrying, that's definitely a boy."

Exhibit B:

Now, I know I should trust the sonographer more than the Harris Teeter checkout clerk. But it's still nagging at me. With Mabes, I had two ultrasounds and saw the shot from a couple of angles. Definitely girl. With this one, since I closed my eyes for the gender part, I only have one picture. One angle. Things can hide, right?

I'll be happy either way, but I'd just like to know. Especially given Mabes' reaction last time. Now that she's happy about a girl, I don't want to throw her for a loop again. And I'd like to know if I should buy a blue sleeper or two. So reassure me: it's just an old wives tale, it's full of crap, and I'm carrying lower because this is a second baby, right? Anyone? Mom? Sarah? Bueller?

My 4-year-old, the name snob.

Mabes and I were in the car today, and she was asking me how the baby was doing, if she was hungry, if it was dark in there, etc. (Mabes has been talking non-stop lately, perhaps in an attempt to avoid awkward silences. They really aren't awkward, Mabes...sometimes silence is nice.) The conversation shifted to names, as we're still working on a short list. Or any list, really. I had already vetoed Nickanot, Boyla (would you want the word "boy" in your name? she gave that one up quickly), and Airplana.

"What about Adelaide?" I asked.

"Um, mom, I don't fink dat's a real name. I fink you made dat up." Ouch. By the way Mabes, it is a real name and was before it was a city in Australia. But thanks for your input.

"What about Margaret?"

I don't love Margaret, but I love Maggie as a nickname. But I won't use a name that ends in -y or -ie as a given name, since our last name ends in -y. It just doesn't sound right. Maggie was my Grandpa's nickname for my Grandma, because her maiden name was McGee. I would love to name a kid after one of them, but given their names (Orval and Cleoma), Maggie is probably the closest I'd get. And Margaret is definitely growing on me. In part because of this ancestor on my dad's side. I mean, sure, a lot of people can say they're named for a great great grandparent. But how many can say they're named for a Countess who King Henry VIII had executed at the Tower of London? Plus, she's a slammin' hottie.

Mabes, however, was not impressed. "I fink Mar-brick is a boy's name."

"Well, what about Maggie?" I asked as I pulled into the parking spot. No answer from Mabes, so I turned around to see her faking sleep in her carseat. Okay, guess she's tired of talking about names. I helped her out of her seat, we headed into Home Depot, wandered around Christmas decorations, and I decided to revisit the topic. "So what do you think of Maggie?"

"Mom, didn't you see me sleeping in da car? I don't fink Maggie is a good name because it makes me fall asleep. I fink baby needs a name dat makes me wake up and say 'Wow! Dat's a great name!' Like Emaline. Not Maggie--it will make people sleep."

(To clarify: I haven't done the whole you're-so-boring-I'm-falling-asleep-midconversation thing in ages. I have no clue where she got that. Instinct?)

Bora.

I often hear people say, "I want to have my kids close together so they'll be close." I have to laugh, because it somehow implies that if your kids are farther apart, they're doomed to ignore each other for the rest of their lives. Now, Laura and I weren't best friends growing up, but we got along. I'd play Barbies with her when she was little (something Jeff would then tease me about), but we admittedly grew apart as she entered that obnoxious Hanson-obsessed tween phase. Fortunately, she outgrew that faster than most, and despite our five year age difference, she's been one of my best friends ever since.

For some reason, while writing this post, I've been trying to come up with reasons why someone might not like Laura. I can't think of any. Laura is incredibly easy-going (a tamed redhead?), silly, smart, and just plain hilarious. As I've said before, conversations usually start with "so I don't have anything to say" and end an hour later. She's come to visit us everywhere we've lived and she's always a welcome guest--having her around is just fun. I really can't put her awesomeness into words. She's just a fun person to be around that you end up hugging a lot. And maybe cuddle up on the couch with. And giggle and eat candy. And play Harry Potter Guessing Game.

Happy birthday, Bora. I'm going to miss you tons at Thanksgiving and Christmas, so come visit soon after that, okay?

Happy Halloween!

But first, a theory: Seasonal change throws Mabes off. I can't explain it, but I was talking to Sarah this spring and venting about how crazy Mabes was being and she suggested that the weather change/wind might affect her. Interesting, as I remembered screaming fits about that time the year before. For some reason, the teachers at Ainsleigh's school had observed that on windy days, the kids were insane. Not snow or rain, just wind.

So lately she's been...off. And it's not the first time. So I'm going to ignore the monster fit she threw an hour ago leaving our friends' house and chalk it up to the madness which is October. And know that if the past season changes are any indication, this too will pass.

Other than the aforementioned fits, we've had a great weekend. Friday night was our ward Trunk-or-Treat party, and Mabes has been looking forward to this for weeks. I decided that I really wanted to make a fun costume for Mabes, but didn't want it to be a princess or fairy. Somehow I talked her into being a witch ("I'll make you a cool tutu!"), and Mabes accepted on the condition that she'd be "a good witch wif my regaree face, not a mean witch wif a green face." And she got even more excited when she thought of a coordinating costume for Ricecake:

(In case you can't tell, Ricecake is a black cat)

And I kind of love the hat I made:

She had a blast at the party; she loved the games, the candy, and of course just running around. Actually, I think the running around was the highlight. We returned home, tired, and she declared it her best day ever.

Trying to get the donut.

Today, Mabes helped Dave carve her first pumpkin. When we picked out the pumpkin, Mabes decided to name her Perryanna, since she appeared to be Perry's big sister. While we were scooping out the seeds, Mabes kept petting her and telling her it wouldn't hurt, it's just what we needed to do to make her pretty.
She sketched a drawing of the face she wanted on PerryAnna, and Dave set to work. Here's the almost-finished product with the magnadoodle drawing and Mabes making a similar face:

Dave added a finishing touch, and Mabes loves her:

As we were getting Mabes' costume on tonight, it started raining. We drove over to our friend's neighborhood in a downpour, but fortunately it let up as everyone was getting ready to head out. We had a great time trick-or-treating, eating candy, and hanging out and laughing with friends. But thank heavens tomorrow is November.

Autumn in the mountains

Last weekend, Grandma Jackie came to visit and then we all drove to the mountains to visit Aunt Amber-Rae at Western Carolina. We probably picked the best weekend to go--the weather was perfect and the fall colors are gorgeous (but most of the leaves are still on the trees!). It was a long car trip for just one day, but Mabes did great.
We got to see the campus, Ber-Rae's dorm room, and the small college town, then had some fantastic pizza for lunch. We took these pictures at a point overlooking Cullowhee. It was a great view, and someday when I have more time I'll photoshop the power lines out!



Mabes got her first taste of tailgating and loved the crowds, music, and best of all mascots. She got to meet the WCU mascot:

And perhaps even more important, the Bojangle's mascot:

We drove back that evening, and to reward Mabes (and me!) for toughing out 6 hours in the car, we stopped at Cook-Out for burgers and shakes. It's different from In-N-Out, but makes me equally happy. Grandma Jackie looked a little guilty when I realized how much of her shake Mabes ate, but I just felt bad for Grandma! I'm more than happy to let Grandmas spoil Mabes, and Mabes doesn't seem to mind, either.

Today in haiku

Tantrums and crazy;
Remember July? Good times.
I need ice cream now.

Red plate

A week and a half ago was our ward's Primary Program. For those that may be unfamiliar, Primary Programs happen one Sunday a year, when the Primary (children's Sunday school) is in charge of Sacrament meeting. They sing songs, recite scriptures, give talks, etc. It's fantastic. It's something I participated in while growing up, and remember watching it 4 years ago thinking, "4 years from now, Mabes will be doing her first Primary Program." It's a milestone.

She got her part a couple of months ago and quickly memorized it. I figured she'd be pretty pumped about getting up in front of the whole ward and talking into the microphone, but Mabes surprises us with the times she decides to be shy. She kept saying she'd do it, and was particularly excited that she was the very first person to go up to the microphone, so I was pretty confident she'd handle it well.

And then, the Friday night before the program, Mabes woke up in the middle of the night "wif da fro dups." Mabes has a pretty tough stomach and doesn't get sick often (thank you, Mabes, your mom and dad wouldn't handle that well!), but Dave and I sprang into action and got everything cleaned up. Aside from curbing our Friday night Costco shopping/dinner trips, I realized Mabes wouldn't be able to attend the program rehearsal the next day. And probably the program on Sunday. I kept telling myself it wasn't that big of a deal, but this was my first kid's first program. I'd been looking forward to this for years, and she was so excited!

Saturday morning, she had a fever but was surprisingly upbeat. I wanted her to rest and get better, so we pulled her mattress into the family room and told her she could watch shows and movies all day. She was thrilled. She drank her clear liquids, rested, watched TV, and then all of a sudden the fever went away and she was literally bouncing off the couch.

By Sunday morning, she was still doing great. I know the rule is fever-free for 24 hours, but she was doing so well we decided to go ahead and take her to church (with lots of hand sanitizer), since she was so excited for the program. Seeing her beaming from the podium was totally worth it. When it was her turn, she marched up to the microphone and very confidently and clearly recited, "All of us are children of the most high."

Reciting her part

Then she went back and stood with the other 4-year-olds. For the remainder of the program, she was great. Sang when she knew the words, and when she didn't, she just made "aren't I sweet" faces for the audience. I realized that at one point, she was tilting her head so the congregation could see the flower in her hair. And since that was too subtle, she then tilted her head more obviously and pointed to the gem in the flower. At least she was quiet.

One of the faces she was making

She did great the rest of the day, so we celebrated her first Primary Program by carrying on the Ostler tradition of giving her the red plate for dinner. Since we were just venturing back into solid foods, I figured a waffle was close enough to the toast part of the BRAT diet so we had breakfast for dinner that night.

Mmmmm....brinner!

Nickanoo

In my list of random things last week, I forgot to mention the saddest: due to H1N1, our hospital has barred all visitors under the age of 18. Even siblings. So for years, I've been looking forward to having Mabes walk into the hospital room and meet her new brother or sister, and that's not going to happen. I realize that as far as sad things go, this isn't terribly serious. It ranks somewhere between missing House last week due to a delayed baseball game/Tivo error and when Dreyer's discontinued their Andes Mint flavor (it's a loss I still mourn). We'll have a great homecoming/sister meeting instead, but still. I'm bummed.

This pregnancy is flying by, we still don't have a name, and I'm alternating between feeling fantastic and hugely awkward. Just when I think the pressure is unbearable, I remember that if this kid is like Mabes, her weight will triple in the next 2-2.5 months. Yowzuhs. I sometimes find myself thinking, "I have 10 more weeks of this left?" but that's quickly followed by "holy crap, only 10 more weeks?!?!"

And I swore I wouldn't do it, but hey, this is my journal so why not? Here I am at 30 weeks. Note the change from 24 weeks--the torpedo belly is forming.
And to make up for the belly picture, here's an adorable picture of Mabes wearing the hat she made in Primary. And showing off her flower hair bow. Seriously, when did my baby turn into a little girl?

Happy birthday, Moomois!

Okay, I'm totally behind. I keep telling myself that one small post is better than waiting forever and forgetting what I wanted to write down, so I have vowed to post once a day for the rest of the month. Shouldn't be too hard, since the month's almost over, right?

In "awesome" news, today is my Mom's birthday. Let the record state that my mom is the most awesome mom ever. See the quilt posted below for one example of her craftiness. Or my Orlando pictures when Mabes buried her head in Grandma's lap for the entire Dinosaur ride for an example of how she comforts. Or my countless chocolate chip cookie posts (a recipe perfected by her) for an example of her culinary skills. Or her blog to read of all her cycling adventures for an example of how ridiculously in shape she is--seriously, she could dust most people half her age.

Most importantly, though, she has a way of reassuring when we're overcome with self-doubt, comforting when things seem hopeless, and encouraging when I'm convinced I'm failing as a mother. All in a way that, like her aforementioned fitness, is genuine and non-annoying. You know what I mean: someone like my mom could be annoying with non-stop spin classes and a sugar-free diet, but my mom enjoys indulging in a good steak, hot caramel sundae, or even Taco Bell. She has the perfect balance of experience, relatability, self-deprecation, and humor, so when I call to vent, her advice never seems preachy. She just makes everything better.

So Happy Birthday, Moomy! Enjoy the take-out Pappy's bringing home, and then have a big bowl of ice cream with SYTYCD. (I'll have a bowl in your honor, though we don't have Mrs. Richardson's caramel here, either. I looked. I was going to send you some for your birthday.) And then maybe do a pirate jig. Because that's another awesome thing about my mom--she has a great silly side. And does a mean pirate jig.

Random

I've been slacking on the blog for two reasons: I've been really tired lately, so dozing on the couch while trying to read is much more appealing (not sure if I should blame 3rd trimester fatigue or the fact that Mabes has been waking up at night this week), and I've only had little things to post. So here you go.

--First and most important: I passed the three hour test! Phew! I think Edy's (Dreyers for you westerners) shareholders breathed a collective sigh of relief. I didn't find out until Tuesday afternoon, but the nurse said that all 4 blood draws were great and well within the range for normal. I'm looking forward to ice cream tonight.

--Have I mentioned that Mabes likes bats? She woke up the other morning and came running into our room laughing, "Last night, I was sleeping like a bat! When I woke up dis morning, my head and arms were off my bed--I was sleeping upside down!"

--Ricecake is clean. I've known for some time that Ricecake was getting pretty dingy, but the tag said "spot clean only" so I was afraid to throw her in the wash. I wouldn't exactly call Ricecake a "lovey"; it's not like Ricecake is a security thing that helps calm and comfort her. Ricecake is her best friend, her sister, and sometimes nemesis. Even if I did buy a replacement (found it online--may have to order a backup just in case), Mabes would probably know that it's just another lamb, not Ricecake.But after several people assured me that they had laundered stuffed animals without problems, I decided to give it a try. She was getting so gray it was pretty gross.

"You want to do what to Ricecake?"

Mabes wasn't sure about it at first, but then decided it could be a fund adventure for Ricecake. Mabes had a chat with her beforehand and explained that she would get clean, and was pretty excited about it. So with great trepidation, I zipped her into a pillow case and threw her in the wash. She had no clue how nervous I was. When I pulled her out of the dryer, I was thrilled to find her in one gloriously clean piece:

Mabes and Ricecake happily reunite:

--Mabes' hair was getting really too long, so I suggested I cut her hair. She just looked at me, horrified. "But I don't want my hair to look like Daddy's!" Um, Mabes, I can do more than one haircut. After I pointed out that Mommy got haircuts, too, but her hair wasn't as short as Daddy's, she warmed up to the idea.

The before and after

Mabes was quite pleased with the result, and I have to say, it's really cute.

Daddy's girl

"Is Mabes a Daddy's girl?" I was asked recently at a baby shower.

I wasn't sure how to answer this. I mean, I feel like Mabes and I have a great relationship. She's my girl and frankly I missed her the first few times she went to preschool. She's my little buddy (sorry, Rachel, I know you hate that word). When she needs something, she comes to me. When she's hurt or sad, she comes to me. She can be a very girly girl and is so fun to play with. I know where I stand with her, and I'm happy with it.
So with that in mind, I can also say that she's totally a Daddy's girl and I love it. She adores Dave. Dave was in Singapore last week and every day she'd talk about how much she missed him, but that when he got back it would be Home Depot Saturday and they'd go build stuff. Because that's what they do. Mabes loves Home Depot Saturdays and looks forward to them all month. Mabes was particularly excited for this month's, since she knew they were going to build something related to firetrucks and that there would be real firetrucks and firemen there. When they started going to these things, Dave had to help Mabes a lot with every step. As you can see, she's getting really good at hammering.
Oh, and note the obligatory sunglasses. She hasn't been as adamant about wearing them this year, but she still wears them pretty often. And for some reason doesn't like to take them off when we go in stores, but then she can't figure out why everyone calls her Miss Hollywood.
And then earlier this week, Dave had to go to Chicago for a couple of days. Once again, Mabes missed him but said she'd be so glad when Daddy got home. Tuesday night, Mabes chose "Daddy's Little Girl" as her bedtime story. When I finished, Mabes said, "Soon, Daddy will have TWO little girls! Big little girl Mabes, and little baby girl baby! I fink Daddy will like having two little girls!" Me too, Mabes, me too.

Failure

Perhaps one of the most humbling things about being a mom is that there are some things you can't control. You can't study. Well, you can, but it won't necessarily help. This is particularly annoying to me. Ever since I got a C in reading in 6th grade (I can still vividly remember crying in the bathroom) I have worked my tail off to never be average, or heaven forbid, fail. I never wanted my teachers or parents to be mad or disappointed in me, and the maybe 3 times in my school career that I got my name on the board still make my stomach turn. I always tried to do better than was expected of me, and most importantly: I.don't.fail.

Until now. When I went into labor with Mabes (and had a surprisingly fast labor--yay for being above average!) and it was time to push, my doctor said, "Okay, just so you know, the average first-time mom pushes for 2 hours." What? They don't show that on Baby Story! But then I just rolled my eyes, scoffed a little and said, "Yeah, well, I'm not average. We'll get this kid out in 10 minutes." Two hours later, I was eating my words.

And then today, I found out I failed my 1 hour glucose test. Seriously? I've been studying for this test my whole life! My body knows how to handle sugar! The nurse did preface it with "You're iron levels are great!" (iron doesn't let me eat chocolate chip cookies, though, does it?) and then finished it with "You just barely failed it--it's more of a screening test and you're barely over the cutoff." I've always said that if I'm going to fail, I'm go to crash and burn, but apparently I can't even do that. It's like my doctor has written my name on the board, and tomorrow I may get a check mark.

So I go in tomorrow and get to sit at the lab for 3 hours drinking concentrated sugar on an empty stomach and being treated like a human pin cushion. Funsies! And I keep telling myself the gestational diabetes diet would have its benefits, and I will of course do what's best for the baby. I'd be lying if I said Sarah's dream about me having a 15 pound baby didn't scare me a little. I'm just hoping we get the results fast so I know if I can have ice cream tomorrow night.

Send out the clowns

When Mabes was born, we soon realized that we needed a swing. After researching and looking around, we decided we really liked the idea of the swing/rocking chair combo. She didn't care for the bouncy seat we borrowed, but liked having an infant seat to lounge in while I showered or cooked. But at the time, selection was limited and the only pattern available was a hideous clown print. I hate clowns. But I liked the swing, and when we used the seat reclined, I'd just throw a blanket over the seat to cover the offending clowns. Seriously, they're disturbing.
A few weeks ago I was wandering through Babies R Us and saw how much cuter swings are now. Where were these 4 years ago? The blanket works fine, but I wanted to be able to use the seat belt. I thought about selling the old swing and buying a new one, but come on, that seems pretty wasteful.So for less than $10 in fabric and thread, I decided to make a new cover. Since I was making up the pattern for this, I did a trial run using fabric from an old comforter cover I hung onto thinking I may need ugly hunter green fabric someday. Look at me, repurposing! It looks pretty simple (and let's be honest, it probably would be for most people), but I was pretty proud of myself for making it all one nice machine washable piece with cover for seatbelt strap, finished edges, and buttonhole openings for the harness and straps. I had never done buttonholes before, but after practicing on my trial run, practicing on minky fabric (and discovering I needed to use an old crib sheet to reinforce and prevent stretching--more repurposing!), and then doing all the holes on the cover, I'm a buttonhole pro.


Last week, we got the quilt my mom made for Mabes' bed. She posted more pictures on her blog, but here are some pictures I took. I love this quilt. It all started when I was asking my mom about buying comforters and quilts, and she volunteered to make one. Knowing how much work my mom puts into one of her quilts, I didn't want to force her to do that. But she assured me that she had an embroidery kit she wanted to try in a quilt.

My mom knows I prefer lavender to pink, but like any little girl, Mabes prefers pink. And she loves princesses, castles, sparkles, and butterflies, so between the pattern and the embroidery, this quilt has it all. Pair it with the ballet slipper sheets Grandma Jackie got her for her birthday, and Mabes has pretty much the most awesome girly bed ever.
There are alternating quilt squares of embroidered pictures and...quilted stars with minky centers. There's probably a technical name for that, but I'm not a quilter. Heck, I'm just learning how to sew. The embroidered squares have rhinestones on them; in the crowns, on the flowers, on the castle, etc. Mabes likes the jewels.
And it's hard to tell from the pictures (I turned of the flash for the last one so hopefully it's more visible) but my mom has her quilts professionally quilted and this lady does an amazing job. Normally, she does a cute pattern all over, but she outlined each picture, did cute centers in the stars, and decorative vines in the borders. I'm kind of afraid to let Mabes use this quilt; I'm totally going to be like my Grandma Ostler and not let her sit on it!

Gratitude

"I just want to say 'fank you for such a delicious dinner, mommy' again. Fank you such a delicious dinner, mommy! I hope you cook that again!" This was Mabes' "thankful" tonight. For all of her craziness and apparent sense of entitlement, Mabes is really good about expressing gratitude. I'm sure a lot of this is just her personality and I can't take credit for it, but I'd like to think that some of it comes from our nightly "thankful" time. Inspired by this talk, each night after her story and bedtime prayer, we all say at least one thing we're thankful for. Sometimes it's hard, but it's been good for us to end our day thinking about the good things. And perhaps it in some way has contributed to Mabes' ability to recognize when someone has done something nice for her.

She does still have to be prompted to say thank you when the receipt checker at Costco draws a smiley face on the receipt or the Trader Joe's employee gets her a balloon. But she consistently surprises me with the things she thinks to say thank you for--meals, washing her clothes, giving her a bath, or fun outings. It makes it much easier to deal with her running around the living room shouting "yee haw cowgirl!" 300 times when she pauses, puts her arm around me, and says "fank you for taking me for a walk this morning, mommy, it was really fun."

Oh, and the dinner tonight that was so delicious? Leftover lasagna, green beans, and salad, followed by a cookie. Yeah, it was good, but nothing special.

And I won't post pictures weekly (actually, this may be the only one, as I think the puffy-face-and-ankles stage is right around the corner), but here I am last week at 24 weeks. Had a good appointment today and my OB didn't even comment on the ridiculous amount of weight I've gained since my last appointment. I decided to tempt fate by making cookies, see post below. Oh, and now we're going to appointments every other week. Seriously?!?! This is flying by.
Mabes wanted to get in on the picture taking fun and was making me laugh. Note the bow holder in the background--I made it in, what, February? She still thanks me for it at least twice a week.

Well here's a puzzle for you

What do I do more often: Fill up my car with gas or make chocolate chip cookies?







I honestly don't know the answer to this. It's probably pretty close. To be clear, when I make cookies, I just do a half batch of my mom's recipe. This yields two dozen cookies plus a little dough for Dave to snack on later. I don't have room in my freezer for more than that, plus I like making cookies (obviously). As I was gazing at these fresh-out-of-the-oven lovelies, I resolved to eat all of them while watching the House 2-hour season premier tonight. Okay, I'll go halfsies with Dave. I may have to make another batch this week.

Thunder stealing

Granted, it's with permission. Laura sent me this picture a week ago but made me promise not to post it until she posted it with her Orlando pictures. Since the trip was a month ago, I told her she needed to at least get a couple of pictures up. She gave herself a one week window, and said that if she didn't post the picture in that week, I could go ahead and post this. Laura didn't post (not surprising, as a good way to get her to not do something is to ask her to do it), so here you go. This picture makes me happy. It's like her shirt is the perfect caption for her face.
And since she's turned 4, I've noticed she just looks different. Like a kid. Not my baby, not my baby pretending to be a kid. A real little girl walkin' around thinking she's people. With opinions and defiance and silliness. I'm not sure how I feel about this. Every night when I check on her after she's asleep, I just find myself thinking, "When did you get so big?"