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?