300

My in-laws watched William yesterday so Adam and I could use our cereal coupons and catch a flick. We gave the inlaws all the diapers, wipes, extra outfits, and bottled breastmilk William could conceivably use in two hours and headed out. So without giving too much away, here's what I thought of 300:

What movie is that again, says you? 300 is that movie set in the olden days in Greece where a bunch of guys in underwear and red capes go to war. You might remember this line from the previews: "This is Sparta!" The moral of the movie is that Spartans are super tough, and you don't want to be messing with them.

This thing isn't supposed to be historically accurate. Actually it's based on a comic book by the same guy who did Sin City. The movie has some of the style of that movie, what with all the almost-but-not-quite black-and-white-ness and the computer effects, but 300 isn't as cartoony looking. I had troubles with Sin City because all the girls in it were all whores, or strippers, or idiot lesbian police officers who hung out in their underwear. But in 300, the men are equally scantilly clad and so it's okay.

So: good movie.
Plus: 3 decapitations. I don't know why, but I get a kick out of decapitations in movies. There should be more decapitations in "Chick Flicks." Could you imagine? Hugh Grant and Meg Ryan in "Headless in Love". Yes!
And: The woman in it is super tough, even when she's showing a boob.

But: The guy who turned out to be narrating the thing didn't actually witness the final battle so we can assume that part was all made up.
And: sometimes the Persians made it way too easy. Especially the ones riding Elephants.

I recommend the movie as a good gorefest and excellent opportunity to see muscular men in their undies. Woohoo!

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Just wanted everyone to know that, despite the fact that I did not leave the apartment today, I did remember to wear green. William wore green too, but that was a coincidence. Adam wore red, the anti-green.

According to my friend the internet, Saint Patrick is the guy who ran around Ireland in the olden days, converting people to Christianity, chasing away snakes, and drinking green beer. He died several years ago on March 17th. Even though he never succeeded in coverting me, I still think he sounds like a cool guy so we should all drink a Shamrock Shake in his honour. Do they still have those?

Hello Nurse

Today a public health nurse is coming to see William. I'm not sure the exact purpose of this visit except as an excuse to make me clean. If the apartment is dirty she'll think I'm a bad mother. These nurse people are supposed to visit close to when the baby is born, when you're running around with your head cut off screaming "What kind of irresponsible universe would give me a baby!" Now that the little man is almost 4 weeks old, I figure that if I haven't killed him by now I'm probably doing something right. But due to a scheduling conflict (on the nurse's part, not mine) she's coming today. I'll let you folks know how it goes.

In other news, my Mom and her friends are planning me a shower and I was recently asked what I need. Nothing, I keep answering. Truthfully, I'm looking forward to the shower not as a gift grab, but as a fun party, a chance to see everyone and show off my baby. Unfortunately that's not helpful for the gift buyer so here's a quick list:

Diapers and wipes. I know noone wants to buy such boring items but boy would I ever love the person who does. William is currently sporting size one, so that size or a size higher would be useful. Brand doesn't matter, he's tried Huggies and Pampers so far.

Baby proofing paraphernalia. The upcoming nurse visit has reminded me that other apartment is far from baby proof. Little doodads to keep cupboards closed and what not will be good for when he starts walking.

Baby gate. I don't have stairs, but when the baby proofing stuff proves inadequate, I'd like to be able to block off the danger zone (aka the kitchen). Something fairly easy for parents to remove without a screwdriver or a degree in brain surgery.

High chair. For when he starts eating solids.

Car seat. For when he grows out of the infant carrier.

That's all I can think of for now. For those of you who know me in the real world, I don't think the date is set yet for this shin dig, nor have invites been mailed out. Talk to my Mom if you want those details. But not today. She's in Florida with my dad, sister and nephew.

Later that day...

Well the nurse came and left. She gave me a bunch of pamphlets, most of which I already have. She went through all of them with me though so I know what's useful. And she didn't think I was a bad mother. Quite the opposite. I think all health professionals think you're Madonna incarnate (the first one, not the singer who adopts African babies) if you breastfeed.

We've got a 10 pounder

We just came back from the doctor's. William is 10 pounds now. I'm so proud. Just think, this is the same baby who lost 13 ounces in the hospital because he refused to eat booby. Now he can't get enough of the stuff.

Yesterday when I uploaded the William-onesie pic from my camera, I also uploaded a whole bunch that I've taken of him since he was born. Some of them are so old he still had his umbilical cord. Okay, so it's only been 3 and a half weeks, but I still have to upload my photos more often. Anyway, here are some random pics for your enjoyment:

William's William Shirt

My good friend Carol made William this custom onesie and sent it to us all the way from Scotland. This morning I finally got the nerve to risk ruining it by actually putting it on him. He promptly spit up on it and pooed in it. Sigh. At least I got this picture. Hopefully that new stain remover we got is as good as the commercials say it is. If not, I may never get a good picture of the back of the shirt, which has his date and time of birth on it. Anyway, the blanket in the picture is also from Carol and has so far remained poo-free.

Other things: Adam has been working late all week. Yesterday, despite it being Saturday, he worked until 5 am! (6 am if you count daylight savings time). He did take a two-hour break to take me out to dinner at Red Lobster (my wonderful Dad watched William for us). Still, I've been missing my Adam. I'm going to go kiss him now.

Sputnik McNicoll 199?-2007

My family got Sputnik from the pound when I was in high school, around 12 years ago. I remember trying to play with her at the animal shelter's little visiting area, but at the time she was more interested in the cats and rodentia she smelled in the next room. We gave her little bits of hotdog to coax her into loving us.

As soon as we brought her home she took her rightful place as queen of the household. She scratched herself a place on the sofa and, with an unexpectedly deep and powerful bark for a dog her size, protected our family from mailmen, dogs, squirrels, cats, cars, and kids selling chocolate-covered almonds for charity.

Sputnik loved going for walks, especially ones she took herself when someone accidentally left the door open, or when she found a new hole in the fence. She refused to eat dogfood unless it had human food on top. Her favourite foods were cheese, steak bones, pigs ears, pizza crusts and used maxi pads.

For the last little while, Sputnik had a lot of trouble getting around. One of her hind legs stopped working and she was having trouble breathing. She also has a lump on her breast that grew and grew. She spent a great deal of time licking and chewing at the lump until it bled.

Yesterday my mom and dad took her for one last walk at the park. At first she would only be carried in my mom's arms, but did walk a bit near the end. My mom gave her half a Tim Horton's chocolate doughnut. We all know that chocolate is bad for dogs, but in this case it didn't matter. And she loved it. Then it was off to the vet to say goodbye.

Sputnik was a member of our family and she will be missed.

Changing channels

Here are some pictures my husband took this morning. Note: these pictures were taken withing moments of each other. Babies change moods like changing channels. Channel 1: Happy and Alert. Channel 2: Crying. Channel 3: Screaming. Channel 4: Asleep. Right now he's on channel 4 so I can blog. Oops, make that channel 2. Seeya.

Happy Graduation William!

So William and I went to the breastfeeding clinic today (yes, they are open on Sunday). He's up to 9 pounds and the boobfeeding police say he's gaining and feeding well. If you read the last post, you know this is a big deal. We even earned a cheeseball certificate:

Not sure what they mean by "semi-graduated" but I'm very proud about everything William has learned about drinking boobjuice. Congratulations Baby!

WIlliam versus Boob: the saga

Everyone always says to sleep when the baby sleeps, but how does one do that when baby refuses to sleep anywhere but your lap? I may not be able to sleep sitting up, but I can blog. Anyhoo, I promised to blog about William's trouble with boob juice. So here it is.

There's a lot of propaganda going around about the wonders of breastfeeding. A photocopy of "101 reasons to breastfeed" was thrust upon me several times at prenatal classes, and once again at the hospital. They were preaching to the converted. My Mom breast fed me and my sibs, and my sister had no trouble getting my nephew to chomp at the boob. Besides, why would someone who hates dishes as much as I do spend her life needlessly scrubbing bottles?

The breastfeeding propaganda machine has some golden rules about boob-feeding:

• Give your baby the boob the moment he's born. He needs to get to learning right away.
• Don't give baby pacifiers or bottles until he's six weeks old. Otherwise he'll get nipple confusion, and never learn to boob-feed properly.
• Formula is evil.

I broke rule number one right away. When William was born the nurses and doctors were carrying him all around, weighing him and measuring him and cleaning him. I trusted that someone would hand me my baby at the appropriate time, but two hours later he still hadn't tasted booby. When I finally tried to feed him he screamed and wouldn't latch. I figured I was doing it wrong, and decided to wait until baby and I had some some sleep before trying it again. (Birth is tiring business).

Later, every nurse in the hospital had a turn teaching me how to hold my boob and position William properly for a good latch. Sometimes he would latch on for a split second, just long enough for the nurse to go "Good" and walk away. But he always started crying as soon as she was gone.

For those of you who have never breastfed before, I should give some background on how the whole process works. You don't randomly turn into a cow, what comes out of your nipples immediately after birth is a teeny tiny bit of clear gooey nothingness, which is supposedly the best thing to feed your baby. The nothingness is called colostrum and will make a baby immune to everything and will cause him to grow up to be a genius. Unfortunately, it's very difficult to motivate a newborn to suck and suck his little cheeks out for the benefit of less than a millilitre of liquid. Amazingly, most babies do get it. I know this because I shared a hospital ward with three other mothers and got to hear them happily nursing their babies day and night.

One nurse brought me an electric breast pump to try out. Two scary-looking plastic cones with baby bottles attached to them are hooked up via tubes to a serious yellow thinga maggig. All you have to do is hold one cone to each of your nipples and use your third hand to turn it on. When activated the pump will go to town and suck the all-important gooey nothingness out of your boobs and into the bottle below. And since you asked, yes, this process is exactly as uncomfortable as it sounds. And it doesn't work. After fifteen minutes of nipple tug-o-war I was left with barely a drop in the cone, and none in the bottle. I gave the drop to William using my finger, but who knows if he actually swallowed it?

I cried the first time I gave him formula. Not only had I broken the "formula is evil" rule, but I'd waited so long to give him any that he must have been on the verge of becoming a pot-bellied Ethiopia baby. It was one of those "you're a bad mother either way" type of decisions. I had this perfect little baby and I was already ruining him.

The hospital where William was born (also where my nephew was born and where my grandmother spent a two months before getting into a nursing home) has a breastfeeding clinic. The word "clinic" brings to mind a sterile doctor's office, but in fact it's a room full of comfy couches, pillows, and wall to wall breastfeeding propaganda, where everyone knows your baby's name, but calls you and your husband Mom and Dad. They have a clever way of seeing how much your baby is eating by weighing him before and after a feed.

The breastfeeding police gave me a "plan" which was basically what I was doing anyway. They said to give him a little formula or expressed breastmilk to settle him, then try to boob feed. They also said to pump after every feed to keep my supply up (cause, you know, if baby doesn't drink boob, boob dries up). My husband bought me a hand pump, which was a gazillion times more comfortable than the electric pump, but might be giving me a bit of carpal tunnel. Whatever. The point is that the breastfeeding police thought it was okay of me to give formula, so I wasn't a bad Mom after all!

Unfortunately William had started to really love the bottle and really hate the boob. It got to the point where just lying him next to my breast would cause him to freak out. He would get so mad that even his toes looked angry. The breastfeeding clinic gave us some stuff to try: a syringe to inject milk into his mouth while he was latched on to trick him into thinking he was getting more milk than he actually was, a "shield" to put over my nipple to make it more like the bottle. The syringe didn't work at all because William never latched long enough for me to inject the milk. The shield worked a little but not consistently, and it was awkward trying to hold it on. Plus it got all gungy and caused me to leak milk all over my hand.

Sometimes, randomly, William would just get it. He would latch, drink for a good forty minutes, and I would think our problems were over. Then the next feeding we were back to freak out baby.

The breastfeeding clinic also noticed that William has a tongue tie. This means that that bit of skin that attaches your tongue to the bottom of your mouth is too far forward and makes it hard for William to stick his tongue out and feed. The breastfeeding police said that this happens in four percent of babies (lucky us) and that midwives used to keep one finger nail longer than the others so they could cut it (very hygienic). It might sound weird, but I felt relieved to hear about William's tongue tie. It meant that his difficulty with the boobs had nothing to do with my waiting too long after birth to introduce him to my nipple, and wasn't related to my getting an epidural. My boobs weren't too big, my nipples weren't too flat, and my technique wasn't flawed.

One thing I did that I think may have helped, is I laid him next to my boob after he had finished feeding from the bottle. I figured he would begin to associate the boob with being all full and happy instead of being all hungry and frustrated. Who knows if that worked, or if it was something else, but last Thursday, when William was exactly one week old, he began feeding from the breast tongue tie and all. It was also the day his umbilical cord fell off. My little baby's growing up!

So there you have it, my baby is a genius. We're still waiting for a referral for an ear, nose and throat doctor (with long fingernails) to look at the tongue tie. Now that William's feeding, though, there's really no urgency.

Super Happy Mom

I know you're all dying to hear about my motherhood experiences. I tried blogging about them a couple of days ago but couldn't get past one sentence before William demanded my attention, loudly. Loudest baby in the hospital ward. I'm so proud.

Not sure if I'll finish this entry before feeding time, but I'll try. I've had so many of those life experience thingies people talk about since I last posted.

The Labour

Since I've been blogging about my labour terror for ages, I'm sure at least five of you are dying to know how it went. All of the following statements are true: It wasn't that bad. It sucked. It was the bizarrest experience of my life.

Everyone always asks how long labour was. I can't really answer this because I'm not sure of the official beginning. I woke up at around 3 or 4 am, with mild contractions, but was I officially in labour? I dunno. I went to the hospital at 8 am, my induction appointment time. The moment we got there my contractions had miraculously stopped and I was like the girl who cried labour.

So my doctor stuck his finger way up where a finger should never go to check my cervix. Just to put things in perspective, I find these internal checks to be way more uncomfortable than contractions. Anyway I had only dialated a finger width, not offically a centimeter.

So he put in some magic gel to get things going, meaning he had to keep his fingers up my woohoo for an extra long time. Fun. After that my contractions started up again with gusto.

Be right back... I gotta go check on my baby. Still sleeping soundly in his rocking swing. Now where was I?

Contractions. The are like strong period cramps (if you're a guy, period cramps are somewhat similar to bowel cramps). The pain is not as bad as the marathoness of them. They come every 2 minutes, last 30 seconds, and it goes on like that for hours. After the gel they monitered my contractions for a bit using the same contraption used for the non-stress test then they sent me home.

A few slices of pizza and some episodes of Voyager later we went back to the hospital. They had told us to come back at 4, and it was only 2:30. But my contractions were so ouchie that I felt better being at the hospital. I watched some Deep Space Nine on a portable DVD player and got visits from my entire family. They checked me and I was 2 centimetres.

Gotta check on baby again... That swing is brilliant.

The contractions stayed pretty regular and didn't really get worse, but I started to feel uncomfortable between them. And I got all shakey. And I puked up the pizza (which is good because I found out later that you aren't supposed to eat during labour. Something about choking yourself with vomit in the event of a C-section).

I think it's time to feed the baby. Before he starts wailing is good...

...Well that took a long time. Like, hours. I basically just spent the entire day with a baby at my boob (more on that later).

Five hours went by. I was so fed up with the contractions that even Star Trek trivia and Deep Space Nine couldn't console me. The nurse checked my cervix and I was still only 2 centimetres! Then the doctor's intern checked and she said I was 3 centimetres. It had been forever and I hadn't progressed more than one centimetre! I was so discouraged, I thought the baby would never come! This is when I asked for the epidural.

They had to give me an IV for the epidural. So they bruised up one arm trying to get the needle in, and ended up putting it in the other arm. Now I have a hideous, and unnecessary, bruise on my wrist. No biggie.

Adam had to leave the room for epidural time and the nurse and anesthesiologist and I had to wear shower caps, so I knew this was serious business. I sat on the edge of the bed with the nurse sort of holding me while the anesthesiologist washed my back, then she (the anesthesiologist) stuck me with a needle. This was the freezing needle. She said it was going to feel like a bee sting. It felt like a needle, which when you think about it is really the same thing. Then the nurse and the anesthesiologist made a big deal about how I wasn't to move while they put an even bigger needle into my spine. Duh, thought I. So in it went. I flinched. I couldn't help it. It hurt. The anesthesiologist got a bit annoyed at this. She had to try again. Don't flinch, I told myself, then flinched anyway. Finally it worked, and caused no permanent paralysis I might add.

For any of you ladies who are about to go through this process, I gotta tell you, get the epidural. Get the epidural as soon as you can. Like, if you can get it a month or two before your due date, go for it. But seriously, the moment that epi kicked in I wanted to kick myself for not getting it earlier. Whoever invented this stuff is a genius. It numbs the pain from the belly down, without taking away the feeling. As a test, Adam put an ice cube on my leg. I could feel it, but it was like it was mad of plastic or something because it didn't feel cold.

By this time I was so tired I was able to sleep even though I had more tubes coming out of me than a borg drone. Since I couldn't feel any contractions at all, the doctor chucked some magic juice in my IV to turn them into super duper kick ass contractions. A glance at the machine that was monitering me told me that my contractions were off the scale, with barely any time between them.

They woke me up at about 1:30 am to check my cervix. Do what you like, said I, I can't feel anything down there anyway. I was 8 centimetres. Sweet! Around this time I started to feel like I had to take a big poo (only it was really a baby, disguising himself as poo).

Dinner time... For me not baby. Back to blogging later...

Ah delicious manocotti courtousy of Mom (or should I say Omi).

Anyway a half hour later they checked my cervix again and I was ten centimetres. Five hours to dialate one centimetre, half hour to dialate two. Thank you magic juice. For those of you who have never watched television, ten centimetres is when it's time to push out that baby.

I really really felt like I had to go poo. I didn't feel that urge to push people talk about, though. Think about it, no matter how badly you have to go, most people don't feel the need to go all over the bed when they can't make it to the toilet. So I didn't push until the nurses told me too. When it was time to poo out the baby, the nurse brought in a big mirror so I could see what was going on. Odd. I have never seen myself from that angle before. But then, oddness is the name of the game at this point. Giving birth is by far the bizarrest experience of my life.

As I started pushing I could see a little bit of hair, presumably the top of my baby's head. I knew it was a baby coming out, but in the same kind of back of my mind way that I knew all through pregnancy that he was coming out my woohoo. The kind of knowledge you have without really believing it. Anyway. I looked away from the mirror a moment and closed my eyes and pushed. When I looked up again there was a head between my legs. A whole head. A real human head sticking out of my privates. Surreal. I don't really remember pushing the rest of him out, I must have because he isn't there anymore. Seeing that head was just too bizarre.

Afterwards a bunch of stuff happened. I birthed the placenta. I got stitches in the naughty area. Turned out the sneaky student doctor cut my woohoo with scissors when I wasn't looking, that made me sore later, let me tell you. My doctor came in five minutes after the kid was born and pretended he had delivered the baby. Anyway the whole time all this was happening I was watching my baby being cleaned and carried all around while he screamed and screamed. I kept telling myself, this is my baby, this is my baby. But it was all too surreal.

Okay, so I was going to blog a bit about motherhood, particularly William and my difficulties with boob feeding, but I'll leave that for another time. Mainly because this blog entry is getting to be almost as long as the labour itself! In the meantime check out www.filipowicz.ca/william for some pics of my new kid. Oh, by the way, William was offically born at 2:41 am on February 15th.

More Pictures

Everyones doing well
Jen will hopefully be home tomorrow (Saturday)
Here is another Pic!

Adam,

PS. Sorry im not as wordy as Jen.

It's a Boy!

Would like to introduce

William Adam McNicoll Filipowicz
Born Feb 15, 2007 2:42 AM
Joseph Brant Memorial Hospital in Burlington
8 lbs 13 Oz.

More details coming soon.
but this will do for now

now for some sleep

Adam,

Last Night in the Womb

So today was my last day to not be a mother. While technically I suppose I'm a mother already, seeing as I have a full grown baby inside of me, but I haven't done much mothering. The placenta is a darn good baby sitter and the poor thing is about to be cast aside like a gross mushy organ (because that's what it is, don't get all sentimental).

You'd think we'd do something special to commemorate our last day as a couple before we become a trio, but not so much. I did apply for mat benefits today (finally got all my records of employment in order to do that). I only mention this so I have a written record of when I applied, so I can measure the government's response time.

The whole thing feels so surreal. I can't believe that tommorrow morning I'm going to the hospital, and leaving a few days later with a baby and an empty belly. I'm going to be a Mom. That's craziness.

Here's my last preggers belly shot:

V-day induction

Since I'm still as pregnant as ever, I went to see my doctor this morning. We talked about induction. I said before that I wanted to wait, but that was before I felt all sore and uncomfy. So on Wednesday, which is Valentine's Day, I'm going into the hospital to have my son evicted.

Of course, I could go into labour on my own before then, but I've lost faith in my body's ability to ever go into labour on its own. Thoughts about this decision to induce:

Valentine's Day is a good day to be born. He'll be my little Valentine.
Am I being an impatient wimp to have given up the waiting?
It's really going to happen. Oh dear.
Maybe I'll go into labour before then. How 'bout now. Or now. Or now.
What if I'm not ready?
What if my baby's not ready?
What if it hurts more because my body isn't ready?
What if it takes longer because my body isn't ready?
Now I'll never know if I would have ever gone into labour on my own.

So that's it. I'll have baby pictures to post sometime soon.

New Hair

Today's project to keep my mind off my impending labour was to get a fabulous new hair cut with some subtle highlights. It's been a while since I've got my hair done and I want my baby to brag to all the other babies about how beautiful his mommy is.

So here's the before picture:



And here's the after picture:

Hey, I said it was subtle. Anyway my husband thinks I'm pretty. Now I just have to change my shirt to get all the itchy hair bits off of my neck.

And here's a pic that just happened to be in my camera of Adam holding Becca and Drew's son Aedan. Doesn't Adam look like a natural Daddy-type? I can't wait to see him holding our baby.

Non Stress Test

So I've been having this pain ever since I went to the doctor's on Thursday and he poked up my woohoo. The pain could be from that, or it could be from walking too much in the last couple days, since I walked all the way to the supermarket on Wednesday and yesterday I walked Sputnik and my parents. The pain is sort of at the bottom of my belly and it only hurts when I get up, bend over, walk, cough, laugh, move, or the baby moves. Of course when people hear I'm having pain, and I tell them how preggers I am, they get all excited and say "Oooh! ooh! You must be in labour" even though this is nothing like any labour pains I've ever heard about.

So yesterday Adam was all worried about me cause I was hurting so I finally agreed to go to the hospital to get checked out. I went to labour and delivery and they asked if I was in labour. I said no, I just wanted to be checked out. So they hooked me up to a monitor to do a non-stress test. This test is to make sure the baby isn't all stressed out from being cooped up in the womb too long. Honestly, I could come to the hospital with a severed arm and as long as the baby was okay noone would care. Well my baby isn't stressed. He loves the womb. He's never leaving.

The test also confirmed that I am still not even a little bit in labour. Duh. But I still have ouchies.
So today's project to take my mind off my fun new pain, and impending labour, is to create a flash representation of the non-stress test. Here it is:



The number on the left measures the baby's heart rate. The number on the right is meant to measure contractions, but since I'm not having any it only jumps when the baby is kicking. As you can see, I have a gameshow buzzer that I'm pressing every time I feel the baby move. Insead of buzzing, it marks a musical note on the paper. The baby's movements match up with a rise in the heart rate, because he's having fun doing his excercise routine.

Original Series Klingon Woman

So my Mom says I need a project to keep me from thinking about my impending labour. My project today was to find a picture of a klingon woman from the original series. This is because yesterday my Dad said that there were no klingon women on the original. So this is for you Dad. The klingon on the right is Mara, Captain Kang's wife and also his science officer. Here's another shot of her:

You can tell she's a klingon because of her generous application of self-tanner and her creative use of eye-shadow. That's the warrior's way.

Dr. Cervix Poker

So I went to the doctor today and he had a gay old time poking around my cervix to see if it was "ready". While this might seem like a party, it actually isn't very pleasant. Anyway, he told me he thinks that I'll go into labour this weekend. So of course I got all freaked out and got into to one of my "I'm so terrified of labour that I'm going to cry" moods. Adam had to drop me off at my Mommy and Daddy's house so I could get hugs.

I'm out of that mood now and I'm onto the "I hope I go into labour this minute, but I don't think this pregnancy will ever end" mood. My mother-in-law's birthday is Saturday, so that might be fun for him to have the same birthday as his grandma.

Well maybe by Monday I'll have some baby pictures to post. Of my own baby, I mean. No promises, just hopes.

Aedan and His Parents

I told you I had photos of Becca and Drew's new baby. Here are a few:




Isn't he adorable? And doesn't Becca look pretty? She just gave birth to a nine pound baby and still manages to look glamourous.

In other news. Today is my due date according to my obstetrician. My family doctor originally told me the 5th. Nobody knows what my baby thinks the due date is. I'm hoping he'll come sooner rather than later. Not only am I super excited to meet him, but now that Becca's had her baby I have nobody to be pregnant with!

Becca had a Baby

Aedan Robert Scott Painter
9 pounds, 4 ounces
Born February 1st, at 12:52 pm.

Adam and I went to the hospital this morning figuring she must have had her baby by now! I mean, they broke her water at 4:30pm yesterday. But the big show had yet to happen. Adam had to leave for work so I hung around the hospital, watching reruns of Star Trek and old sitcoms until I got the news that Becca had pushed out a baby. Then I had to wait like, a whole episode of the Cosby Show, while Becca and Drew bonded with their baby, and other relatives got to visit. Then I saw him. What a cutie. He was certainly worth the wait.

Becca did so well, she ended up having an epidural because she was way too exhausted to push. When I saw her after, she looked so beautiful. Tired, sure, but also glowing with the satisfaction of a job well done. She said it was a lot of work but it was so worth it. Drew had tears in his eyes. I couldn't believe that the baby I was seeing had been living in Becca's belly this whole time! And I have a similar infant living in my belly! Gah!

Anyway, I do have pictures, but I'll have to get the parents permission before posting one. For now, just imagine an adorable pair of chubby cheeks and sleepy blue eyes peering out from under a wooly green hat (the rest of him burrito-wrapped in a cozy white blankie) .

Becca's in Labour!

My friend Becca is in labour at this very moment. She got some gel put on her and her water broken with a rug hooking needle, which is cheating, so she didn't technically win the baby race. When Adam and I went to see her Becca was doing a super great job of pretending the contractions were "not that bad". She seemed very relaxed and happy, without the aid of drugs (so far). Of course, this doesn't mean that labour will be a piece of cake for me. Becca has this way of turning even the most unpleasant situations into the best experience, whereas I just tend to complain or make jokes or both.

Anyway I'm so proud of Becca for doing so well, and so excited to meet her baby. Congratulations Becca! (Congratulations to you too Drew, good job being a supportive labour coach/husband)

Dylan's Birthday and a Dream

First some photos I took yesterday at my cousin Dylan's 2nd birthday party:





What cuties eh?

On a completely unrelated note, I had a very strange dream last night. Adam and I were taking a first aid course, only this time be were at a house. I got the impression that some real emergency (murder, horrible accident) had happened at the house and our class was acting it out to teach us what we would in that situation.

Then the teacher (who was a man, even though our real teacher was a woman) led us into the woods on the trail of the murderer, who may or may not have been a grizzly bear. I thought we were only going a few steps into the woods so I neglected to put my shoes on when we left the house. We went deeper and deeper and I kept waiting for the guy to turn around. He didn't so finally Adam and I left the group and went back to the house to get our shoes.

For some reason I wanted a cup of water and a cup of sugar. There was a Wendy's in the house and we went there. We had two of those wax paper Wendy's cups for them to fill. Adam ordered a cup of sugar, a cup of water and an ice tea. The girl at the counter was all confused. Instead of getting us a cup of sugar, she filled the cup with all kinds of stuff they use to make drinks sugary; fruity syrups, jujubes, etc. In the end we had a super-concentrated sugary drink.

I'm trained in first aid...can I help you?

Because we're all about not having a choking baby, my husband decided it was a good idea for us to take a St. John's Ambulance First Aid Course. So we spent the day breathing into dummies, tying scarves around each other, and watching videos of pretend injury victims. My favourite video segment was the one on amputation. Good clean fun.

So you'll be happy to know that my husband and I are now capable of helping an adult, child, or infant who is choking, bleeding, has an amputated finger, is having a diabetic emergency, or an asthma attack, or an anaphylactic reaction, or a heart attack, or a seizure. Well, at least we have a certificate that says we can do those things and that's really what's important.

I figure, given the sense of humour of the universe, you only really need training like this when you don't have it. So by taking this course, Adam and I have prevented ourselves from ever having to face any kind of emergency.

This week and beyond

Tuesday

My last prenatal appointment, my obstetrician had to rush off to an emergency C-section. My husband and I were in the waiting room with two other ladies. One came in before us and the other came in after us. The receptionist was sending people away and telling them to come back in the afternoon, but she didn't say anything to us until one of the other women said "Excuse me, is he still going to be able to see us?" That's when the lady who came after us was told to leave and come back later. About a half-hour later the lady who came in before us was told to leave as well. She was having a test done that was going to take longer than my five-minute measure-the-belly-and-hear-the-heart appointment. The woman had already been waiting an hour but she was very gracious. So the doctor called us in, took my blood pressure, measured my belly, listened to my baby's heart, and asked if I had any questions or concerns. My biggest concern at that point was that some poor woman was waiting on an operating table for him to cut her open! I wish that woman and her baby good health and I certainly hope everything went well.

Yesterday

My friend Becca is going to have a baby in less than a week. Her due date was January 27th, but the pushed it back to the 21st because her baby was measuring large at her last ultrasound. So technically she is now overdue. Anyway, yesterday she went in for something called a "membrane sweep" that's supposed to get things all kick started. As far as I understand it, the doctor reaches up where the sun don't shine and separates the membrane from the uteran wall, kind of like separating the skin from the shell of a hardboiled egg. This should put a woman in labour in anywhere from six hours and 3 days. Becca and Drew (Becca's husband) came over after the sweep. I was hoping that Becca would go into labour right there. I'm thinking it's like yawning. If two pregnant women are together and one goes into labour, then the other one will too, right? Well nothing happened. If nothing happens by the 31st they'll induce.

After Becca and Drew left we went over to my Mom's house for some homemade chinese food. My Mom makes the best wonton soup ever. My nephew was dressed like a penguin, complete with orange ovenmitts on his feet.

Today

Today is my last Writer's Group for a while. We meet every two weeks to one month to comment on each other's writing and drink tea. I'm hosting tonight because the group doesn't want me driving all the way to Mississauga or Etobicoke so close to my due date (visions of me giving birth by the side of an icy highway in the middle of the night). Since there's only 3 people in our group it will collapse when I'm not there. We'll do it over the internet for a while (no tea) and when I get settled with the baby and stuff we'll start the group up again. Who knows when that will be. I'm going to go by milk because normal people have milk in their tea and don't, like me, turn it into lemonade by adding half a lemon and three spoons of sugar.

In T-minus...

Check out the countdown on my husband's blog to see how long I have until my baby is born, right down to the millisecond. At the time of this entry I has 9 days and 11 hours to go. If only things were that exact. Of course, I'll probably still be pregnant on V-day. If I am, Adam and I will go out for a romantic dinner at a Mexican restaurant.

Six hundred two and a half hours!!!!!!!

I've done it! As of today I've worked the 600 hours needed to apply for maternity benefits. In fact, I'm two and a half hours over.

Special thanks to the good people at these fine establishments:

*company name censored*, aka the pink dust cloud, who hired me to work once a week just because I begged them to. And they fed me lunch.

Express Personnel, who worked their butts off trying to get me enough hours, and, when they had no work from clients, brought me in to do busy work in their office.

I'll be applying for my benefits on Friday, when the aforementioned employers will supposedly have my Records of Employment ready. I shall have to bring them a present.

Rubber Ducks

I had a dream last night that an army of rubber duckies were coming after me. They were marching through a field. Well, I guess they weren't exactly marching because rubber duckies don't really have legs. And no, they didn't have guns or teeth or any feature that made them scarier than normal bath toys. They were just ordinary yellow rubber ducks. But there were so many of them!

My interpretation (based on the dream dictionary)

The ducks represent my flexibility (ducks can walk, fly, or swim, so they are super flexible.). Not sure if this duck interpretation extends to the rubber variety, but rubber is supposed to mean flexibility too. More likely that dreaming of bath toys has something to do with babies. Anyway the field represents great abundance, freedom, happiness and means I'm going through personal growth. I'm personally growing a big belly with a baby in it. The army could be an overpowering force working against me, but seeing I'm so darn flexible (and the army is made up of toy ducks), I'm not super worried about it.

Still Pregnant

I'm at work today in the flourescent pink dust cloud. Apparently my dad, who also works here, has started an office pool predicting when I'm going to pop. Someone here is going to make 100 bucks. Not me, I'm just going to make a baby.

There are bets marked down for as early as this Monday. That would suck because it would leave me with one shift to go before I make my 600 hours. I'm not too worried about it though, I'm sure I'll still be pregnant on Valentine's Day.

Pregnancy Party (aka Baby Shower)

First a little test: which of the people pictured above are genuine pregnant ladies, and which are wearing baloons under their shirts? (Answer at the end of this entry).

Today was shower day. My mother-in-law always goes all out every time she hosts a party and today was no exceptions, egg salads and crab salads and chicken wings and chicken fingers and cream puffs and my mother-in-law buzzing around going "Does anybody want ice cream? Does anybody want tea?" My mom made the ultimate carrot cake. There was a good mix of my friends and Polish folk, cousins-in-laws and the like.

And of course presents. My son will be nicely well dressed for his first year of life. The gift opening was accompanied by a rousing game of "Gift Bingo". This idea was shamelessy swiped from my friend Becca's baby shower and I highly recommend it for any gift-giving occasion. Before present unwrapping begins everyone fills out bingo cards with items they think might be in the gifts (bottles, stuffed toy, wipes, etc). Then cross them off as the presents are received. If someone get a line, she yells BINGO! and wins some trinket. This makes your guests less likely to have their eyes glaze over while you open your twentieth baby-blue bag full of blankets and onesies.

So a good time was had by all. Though when I got home I was disapointed that it was only 6:50pm, and nowhere near bedtime. I feel a wee bit sleepy.

Answers, from left to right: genuine pregnant lady (my friend Becca), balloon-wearing imposter (my nephew Hunter), balloon-wearing imposter (my sister Robin), and genuine pregnant lady (it's me!)

Working in a happy pink cloud

Another fabulous day at *company name censored*, my Mom's friend's business. I'm working here once a week so that I can earn all my precious hours and get maternity benefits.

What the company does: They sell flourescent powder. Companies put the stuff in their pipes to check for leaks. The office is always covered in this pink dust which I'm told is non-toxic. My pink sneakers are getting pinker and pinker every time I come. Definitely not the type of office one dresses up for.

What I do: filing, posting bills on the computer, printing envelopes. I can't do those last two things right now because for some reason my computer isn't talking to the network. I consulted my two tech support people: my husband who advised me to reboot the computer, and my Dad who crawled under the desk checking all the connections. Neither troubleshooting technique worked. So I'm "testing" the internet while I wait for the other computer to be free. Seems to work.

In other news: I'm cooking a vegetarian meal for my friends Val and Justin tonight. Val told me that she doesn't want me to go to a lot of trouble but this week I'm in the mood to expand my cooking horizons. I'm making angelhair pasta with a basil pepper sauce and tabouli. If anything turns out I'll post it on my recipe blog. If nothing turns out I shall crawl into a hole and never speak of this again.

Belly shot

Now that I have a cool camera, I can take my own preggers belly shots. This is how my son's house looks when I'm looking down on it. Luckily, all my stretchmarks are on the underside of my belly so I can pretend they aren't there (until they start itching). They ominous shadows of my breasts, however, are always clearly visable.

In other news, I've almost got the 600 hours I need to apply for maternity benefits. I've been scraping together hours by working at a temp agency and at my mom's friends business. I have 33.5 hours to go and only 4 weeks left of pregnancy. Now it's a race.

And I know some of you care, so here's what kind of camera I have (based on what's printed on the outside of the thing). Let's see. It's a Lumix, made by Panasonic, DMC-FZ7. It's got a 12x optical zoom (to get super close-up goat pictures). It also says that it's 35mm equivalent, but it's digital (obviously). It takes rechargeable fancy batteries (instead of AAs). It's not an SLR but it sort of looks like a cute miniature version of one. Well, actually it's quite large compared to other cameras I've had.

Most Photogenic Animal

The winner of most photogenic animal at the Toronto Zoo, Boxing Day, 2006 goes to...
(drum roll)...

This Baby Mountain Goat!!!

Runners up: other mountain goats, a camel, turtles, foxes, a hippo's foot. Rather than bore you with endless zoo shots, I thought I'd just post the best. As you probably guessed, I got a new camera for Christmas. It's got a wicked zoom, so you no longer have to use a magnifying glass, or any "Where's Waldo" skills to find the animals in my snapshots. So now I'm on my way to becoming a professional goatographer.

Super Happy Nativity Scene

Hey, I got around to making a new X-mas flash afterall! I'm not usually this traditional but what's X-mas without a nativity scene?




Merry Christmas Everyone!

12 Days of Christmas...OR LESS!

I know it's hard to believe, at least for the snowless citizens of B-town, Ontario, that Christmas is coming THIS WEEKEND. So I thought I'd get everyone in the spirit by posting this flash I made last year. No, I'm not just lazily rehashing old cartoons, I'm creating my own Christmas tradition. Every year, me and my blogger peeps can gather around our computers for a showing of this, admittedly shoddily made, yet somewhat amusing, flashterpiece. Then get yea to the mall, there's not much time left!

Merry Christmas Everyone! (even if you're not Christian. Hey, I'm not Christian either).

Prenatal Horror Theatre

Lately I've been having some feelings of apprehension regarding my appending delivery. Okay, okay, more like terror. Some things that have contributed to my fears:

• Being that I have lead a very sheltered life, I haven't really experienced any real pain. I don't even have cramps when I get my period, so I can't even fathom what labour will be like.
• Our most recent prenatal class talked all about labour and delivery. We watched videos in which women gave birth. Even though they did all the breathing and pain management BS that people talk about, it still looked like a horror show. Was this supposed to make me feel better about going through labour? It didn't.
• I'm of the philosophy that no pain is better than pain, so I plan to have an epidural. But then I saw this episode of Bringing Home Baby where the mom had super big headaches from her epidural, when she stood up or sat up. They were so bad that she couldn't even get up to go to the washroom and her husband had to bedpan her! This seemed to defeat the whole purpose of an epidural. A browse of the internet told me this was rare, and that it happens when the needle goes too deep and some spinal fluid leaks out. It can also cause double vision and hearing problems, because basically your brain doesn't have enough fluid to float in. They can try to patch the hole by sucking blood our of your arm and injecting it in your spine, but then you might get meningitus. I hate needles enough without having to read all this!

The Dream

So last night I had this dream that I was in the hospital. I hadn't even had any contractions yet but for some reason I knew that I was about to go into labour (I don't think I was being induced, I just knew somehow). I thought that I would wait until I was farther along in labour before they would give me an epidural. That's usually how they do things in real life.

Instead, they came in right away, a nurse and a black guy in OR scrubs that I knew was the anesthesiologist. They didn't even ask if I wanted an epidural, they just said it was time, and that was that. I leaned over while sitting on the bed to receive the needle. The anesthesiologist was about to put the needle in, but the bed was so bouncy that I couldn't sit still enough. I remember asking him if he'd had any patients who'd had an epidural headache. He said he hadn't done that many, but I didn't know if he meant that he hadn't given that many epidurals, or if not that many of his patients had had the headache. I was scared that the bouncy bed would make him slip and make the needle go too deep. Eventually we just had to take the mattress off the bed so I had a flat place to sit.

The epidural seemed to work okay after that. So maybe it'll be okay.

The Good Symptoms

Today my arm hurts, especially when I move it. It feels like the tendons and muscles have to stretch beyond capacity just to move my elbow properly. This is similar to what happens to my calves sometimes when I get a leg cramp. I don't even have to look it up to know that this is yet another bizarre symptom of pregnancy. Honestly, what do my limbs have to do with growing a baby?

At this point I could grow a third arm (something that would be pretty useful right about now) and I would just be like "ho hum, yet another pregnancy symptom nobody told me about".

Even before I knew about all the weirdness, I was never one of those women who wanted to be pregnant. I wanted kids, and pregnancy was just something I had to go through so I could be a mommy. Now that I'm going through the experience, I do have to say that there are some enjoyable bits, such as:

• Baby kicks. This is hands down the best part of being pregnant. It starts at about 4 months with something that could actually be gas and increases it intensity until you have this other-worldly creature manipulating your belly from the inside. Honestly I could be the star of the next Aliens movie. When he really goes to town you can see these kicks from the outside. He moves fast too, rolling across my belly like he's dodging bullets. The novelty never really wears off either because the kid gets stronger and stronger. At this point I can kind of see the shape of him when he comes to the surface. Though I'm still not sure what part is his head.
• Not having my period. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I love not having my period. This is probably the reason why some people have 17 kids, and why some mothers continue breastfeeding until their kid is in college (breastfeeding can sometimes keep you from getting your period too). Of course, I know I'm not really avoiding my period, just banking it so I can get all the weeks at once after I deliver. Better to get it all over with in one shot, says I.
• Being the centre of attention. The pregnant bump is a great conversation piece and it means everyone around me talks to me about babies. This is fabulous because I get SO bored with small talk about the weather, what people do for a living, celebrity gossip, relationships, politics, and the weather. Did I mention the weather? Who cares! Babies is a topic I can get interested in. In fact, it's all I think about. That, and what I'm going to eat next.
• My super appetite. I can eat as much now as my 6'2" husband (usually), and when I get exactly what I want, the food tastes more delicious than ever. Sure, I'm gaining weight, but it's all going towards my boobs and baby (in that order).

That's all I can think of right now. I should also mention that I got a phone interview to be on the show "Birth Days" a Life Network show that I gather is the Canadian equivalent of TLC's Bringing Home Baby. Even if they choose us, we might not do it. Adam's shy about being on camera (I find most guys who are into photography are). Anyway the lady who talked to me seemed to want Adam and I to have conflict, but unfortunately for her we're the perfect couple.

Wicked!

I'm a big Wizard of Oz fan, so Wicked the musical wasn't a very hard sell for me. Turns out the Wicked Witch of the West wasn't that evil after all. She was just misunderstood, 'cause she was green. The big mystery of the show for me was how Elphaba (the witch's name in the musical) was able to touch the other characters without getting green make-up all over them. I'm thinking they just made the actor eat nothing but spinach and green jello for 3 months.

Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed the play. I was so into the character that, knowing she was to be melted, I felt all tense and sad and scared for her.

Some highlights:

• Finding out how the lion, the tinman, and the scarecrow came to be
• The big mechanical wizard head
• The flying monkeys (they were neat-looking, much more so than in the flick)

I'm going to have to watch the Wizard of Oz again now to see if I can answer all my "now wait a second, if she isn't really wicked then in the movie why did she..." questions.

If it's good enough for Bon Jovi's kid

For the past few months (basically since we found out I was pregnant) Adam has been trolling the internet, looking for the most new, innovative, and expensive stroller technology. Daily, the husband shows me videos and quotes reviews about these stylish yet over-priced items. A stroller is like baby's first car, and should our little bundle have the sportiest model?

We talked seriously about getting the bugaboo, the trendiest and most high-priced of the lot. These things are everywhere, which is surprising since it costs $1000, and that's if we smuggled it across the US border illegally, avoiding taxes and duty by calling on my father-in-law's Polish mafia connections in New York.

My reason for going along with the plan to spend a sizable portion of baby's college fund on a stylish pram, is that many of these expensive models have reversible seats. Meaning baby can have the traditional outward facing position, or he can face Mommy. Now I read somewhere (likely when I was interning at Today's Parent) that if a child faces his his mommy (or daddy) while in his baby carriage there will be more bonding between parent and child, mommy will talk to baby and baby will observe how words are formed by watching her lips, baby will therefore learn to talk quicker, he will develop a stronger vocabulary than babies in front-facing strollers, he will learn to read faster, he will do better in school, and he'll grow up to be a genius.

So we got a stroller with the reversible option. We didn't have to go to another country, and we didn't have to pay a thou (close, but not quite). We settled on the Rockstar (pictured above) which comes with a bassinet so you can make it a pram, or a regular stroller seat that you can recline at all different angles and face any way you like. Bon Jovi endorces this carriage, so you know it's cool.

Plus, it comes in red.

What's up with this dream?

I dreamt that Bele was still alive. Someone had found him outside and brought him to me. Adam and I were visiting someone with the pigs and I wanted to clean the cage before I put Bele back in so that he wouldn't catch whatever had killed him before. We were looking for garbage bags and (for some reason) rubber maid containers. When I put Bele back in the cage, Lokai was happy to see him. I think they were actually having sex at some point (yes, I know, but this is as X-rated as my dreams get).

As I mentioned, we were visiting someone. There were lots of people, a party I guess. The pigs' cage was on the floor and some woman was walking her dog around the living room. It was a big dog, like a bull terrier. When the dog got near the cage he swallowed Bele whole!

The woman said she was sorry and reached her arm down her dog's throat in an attempt to retrieve Bele. We thought that the dog might have thrown up Bele into the garbage chute, so everyone at the party was searching through a basement full of garbage looking for him. There was a little girl there who wanted to leave. I gather she had somewhere to be and her Mom was making her stay to look for Bele. She kept saying "I want to go to _____ now." (The blank of course referring to wherever she needed to be, but I don't remember where that was.) I kept saying to everyone "You have to find him, he's my miracle pig."

I think someone did find Bele, but he wasn't as whole as we at first thought.

A Jolly Happy Soul

Even though I'm not that big for a woman entering her third trimester, I feel like a snowman with legs. You know, three big snow balls on top of each other: belly, boobs, head. The problem is the boobs. I have a smallish preggers belly with humongous breasts. GAH! My back is also protesting the change in my body. I bought myself a super expensive back massage chair with my birthday money, and I also got one of those pregnant belly cozies. All these things help, but don't cure what ails me.

On Wednesday, Adam and I took a tour of the hospital where my son will be born. It kind of freaked me out. Phrases like "labouring" and "pain management" were tossed around frequently. Of course I checked out the other pregnant women's breasts. They were just as small as ever! Honestly I bet they still wear a C-cup, so their belly looks larger and rounder, which makes them look all glowing and pregnant, instead of like a frumpy snowwoman. It is so unfair. Oh well. I bet all those women have hideous stretchmarks. And hemorrhoids.

Anyway, I'm sure it will all be worth it. I mean, look how cute this kid is:




Now I'm off to Becca and Drew's baby shower! (Their unborn son is cute too)

Jen's Fantabulous B-day Weekend

I know you are all anxious to find out what I did for my birthday on Friday. Here's the lowdown:

Friday November 10th (my birthday)

After work my husband and I went to my Mommy and Daddy's house. Mom made a super delicious, and highly labour intensive, meal of rouladen and spaetchle (with cream spinach!) It was a wonder to behold (and to eat, of course). Afterwards we had chocolate cake and ice cream.

Prezzies:
-Tickets to the musical "Wicked" (from Mom and Dad)
-DVD of season one of "The Tick" (cartoon) and "Wonder Woman Season II" (from my brother, Craig).

Next we watched a couple Tick episodes with my nephew, Hunter). Then we hung out until it was late enough to head to Karaoke night at the bar down the street. Craig, Rob (my sister), and my Adam all came and we sang and sang. Well, Adam didn't sing, but the rest of us were all up in there. Don't worry, I only drank ice tea and water.

Saturday November 11th (Rememberance Day/ 3D ultrasound day)

Adam's prezzie to me was a 3D ultrasound so I've been keeping myself all hydrated. Me, My Adam, Mom and Dad, Robin, Hunter, Craig, my mother-in-law Eva, my father-in-law Chris, my sister-in-law Julie, my best friend Eireann, and my best friend Becca and Drew, all crowded into the Ultrasound room to see my bare belly. If you were to compare Saturday's pics of my unborn son, to the one taken at the baby show demo (I'll post some pics soon so you can do that), you might think it was a completely different baby. His face has filled out a lot more and he actually looks even cuter! The ultrasound tech was cooing about how accomodating my baby was. He showed us both ears! What a good baby. We also got yet another confirmation that yes, he is a boy along with a clear snapshot of his, um, bits (to show future girlfriends).

Afterwards my Mom served everyone lunch, which was basically a late Thanksgiving, or early Christmas dinner. We had turkey and yorkshire pudding and stuffing and all kinds of yumminess. My Mom's a fabulous cook. Later the whole gang (minus the inlaws) went to see my nephew's choice of movie: Flushed Away. It was good, great slug bits, but I liked the movie with my son in it better.

Prezzies:

The ultrasound (from Adam)
A highly useful weird alien robot thing that sings different beats and can plug into a radio or mp3 player (from Becca and Drew)

According to Adam, I have another present on the way in the mail. He wouldn't tell me what it is, but assures me I'll like it.

27 weeks for baby, 27 years for me

Today is my 27th birthday and I'm 27 weeks pregnant. It's almost as if that were planned (it wasn't). 27 is actually quite a milestone (for baby, not for me) because this is the time when his lungs develop. That means that if something were to happen and I had to deliver right now, my son would have a good chance of surviving outside the womb. Apparently, being able to breathe is the secret to making it in this world.

Not that he's expected any time soon. Not until at least February 5th (my due date), and judging by the tardy, womb-loving kids in my family, likely not for a week or so after that.

Because I really can't wait that long to see him, tommorrow morning baby and I will be enjoying one of my b-day presents: a 3D ultrasound! (By 3D, I of course mean you can actually tell it's a baby and not, put on goofy red and blue glasses and it looks like the kid is floating in front of your face). I'm supposed to be well hydrated so that my ambiotic fluid isn't all murky, so today I'm drinking lots and peeing lots.

Some people don't like birthdays but I love 'em. I've feeling kind of hormonal today (my zits are back) and so I'm extra looking forward to an evening of cake and prezzies and all-about-me.

The difference between a baby show and a baby shower is the cake

So last night Adam and I went to the Welcome Wagon "Baby Shower" which is actually identical to the Welcome Wagon "Bridal Shower" that I attended last year. There are only about 10 booths to advertising their wares, and many of those aren't even baby related. That's right, Mary Kay, I'm talking about you.

So we sat through this rather hillarious maternity clothing fashion show. The models were obviously not pregnant, and compensated for their lack of bulge by wearing somewhat square pillows. The host of the show was a guy with a suit and a fake laugh whose jokes about being pregnant would've gone over a heck of a lot better had he been a woman. There was also some woman who talked for a few minutes about a parenting humour book she had written.

Smattered throughout the farce, the suit with the fake laugh would give out door prizes. Normally I don't win anything, not even free scratch tickets, but last year at the "Bridal Shower" I won a pair of earrings so I was optomistic. The odds are actually pretty good. There are about a dozen prizes for a hundred fifty people (half of whom are not preggers, and therefore not eligible). The suit had given away all the prizes and felt that downer feeling you get from not winning when you thought you might. Then, suddenly, the suit realized he had one more prize to give away. A fifty-dollar gift certificate for maternity clothes. And guess whose name they called? Mine! (Or rather a reasonable facsimile of my name, because nobody can prenounce Filipowicz correctly on the first try).

For those who love forwards

This is one of those get-to-know-your-friends forwards that we all spend our lives filling out for no reason. My friend Becky sent me this one. Being that it's Sunday, the day of nothing better to do. I'm filling it out. So there!

1. What time did you get up this morning? 8:30ish, maybe 9?

2. Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds. I don't wear a lot of jewelery 'cept my wedding and engagement ring, and who ever heard of a pearl engagement ring?

3. What was the last film you saw at the movies? Man of the Year. The one where Robin Williams is a comedian who runs for president. It was okay.

4. What is your favourite TV show? Always has been and forever will be Star Trek: the Next Generation.

5. What do you have for breakfast? Today? I had cream of wheat. Normally I'm a cereal girl ("I said I'd taste it, I'd give it a whirl, and now I am a cereal girl!")

6. What is your middle name(S)? Meghan. I was also going to keep my maiden name as a middle name. It's not official, but in my heart of hearts my other middle name is McNicoll.

7. What is your favourite cuisine? I like food.

8. What foods do you dislike? Brocolli, cabbage, any other foods that smell like fart.

9. What is your favourite crisp flavour? Crisp? What are we British now? I like pringles, or Miss Vickie's Sea Salt and Malt Vinegar.

10. What is your favourite CD at the moment? Maybe Caroline Whiles' new CD, I dunno.

11. What type of car do you drive? A 1999 silver Subaru Forester. Oh, who am I kidding, Adam drives it, I just listen to the radio.

12. What characteristics do you despise? Um, warts?

13. Favourite item of clothing? I like my flannel PJs and any pants that still fit me.

14. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation? To Europe! (see previous post).

15. Favourite brand of clothing? Dunno. Whatever's the cheapest and the most colourful.

16. Where would you like to retire to? My mansion on Lakeshore Rd, of course. (see previous post).

17. Favourite time of the day? This is a tough one. All times of day are pretty well the same when you're inside in front of a computer. I guess any time where Adam and I are both not at work, and we can hang out together. Oh I know! That time just before bed where the baby's kicking and Adam's lying beside me with his hand on my preggers belly.

18. What was your most memorable birthday? One birthday Adam got my book published (print run of one). That was cool. I can't really say it was memorable though because I don't remember which birthday it was.

19. Where were you born? Montreal

20. Favourite sport to watch? ZzzzzzzzzZZzzzzzz! Huh? What was the question? Someone said the word "sport" and it put me right to sleep.

21. Who do you least expect to send this back to you? Since, I'm not sending it to anyone, I doubt anyone will send it back.

22. Who do you expect to send it back first? See previous answer.

23. What fabric detergent do you use? Tide.

24. Coke or Pepsi? I don't like either. They're all fizzy and taste like sugar water.

25. Are you a morning person or a night owl? I'm a daytime kinda gal.

26. What is your shoe size? 8 1/2 or 9

27. Do you have any pets? Lokai the guinea pig. Which reminds me, it's time to clean his cage.

28. What did you want to be when you were little? An artist, a stewardess, or a bus driver.

29. When is your birthday? November 10th. Not much time left to plan that surprise party!

**********FAVOURITES****************
Shampoo? Honestly, who has a favourite shampoo?

Soap? The kind that cleans.

Summer/Winter? Depends on the weather. I do like the snow.

Favourite Advertisement? That Vanilla Miniwheats commercial is pretty catchy. You know, the one where Mr. Miniwheat sings about faling in love with vanilla flavour.

Book? I like my mommy's books. Her new one, Beauty Returns, is especially excellent.

****RIGHT NOW*****************

Wearing? My flannel PJs. Hey, it's only 10:30!

Eating? Nothing at the moment. I'm thinking about having an apple.

Drinking? Can't drink. I'm pregnant.

Thinking about? Babies.

Listening to? Barenaked Ladies, off my husband's iTunes.

**********THE LAST 24 HOURS**************
Cried? I'm not sure, maybe, could have been 25 hours ago.

Met someone new? Noone memorable.

Cleaned your room? Ha! That's a good one.

Drove a car? Nope.

How many hours sleep? Probably 8, but who knows?

*************DO YOU BELIEVE IN* *************

God? No.

Yourself? I believe in myself, it's those other turkeys that are holding me back.

Santa Claus? I consider myself a Santa Claus agnostic.

Destiny/Fate? Not really.

Ghosts? Oh come on now.

**********FRIENDS AND LIFE**********

Who have you known the longest of your friends? Probably Becca and Drew. I don't remember who else was in my kindergarten class and who I didn't meet until grade one.

Who do you go to for advice? Depends on what I need advice on. If I need to learn to cook something, there's Mom. If I have computer trouble, there's Adam. Becca's pretty good for general advice. And there's always my good friend the internet.

When do you cry the most? When the preggers hormones kick in.

Okay, that's it. I should probably warn you that if you don't fill this out for yourself and send it to all your aquaintances, you'll be attacked by some kind of rabid snake or have your tongue cut out or something.

If I had a Crazy Amount of Money

I was browsing my husband's blog (which hardly gets updated). His post of September 23rd was all about what he would buy if he were super rich. It basically listed a bunch of boy toys: cars, motorcycles, computers, and camera stuff (though if he re-did the list now I'm sure he would include a Bugaboo stroller). In response to his post, I decided to make my own list. Hey, my birthday is coming up after all (Friday, November 10th, I reach the ripe old age of 27).


A mansion on Lakeshore Rd. For those of you who know Burlington, you know that the lakefront is lined with these overly-extravagant palatial properties. This one's only a million eight, so it's reasonable. And yes, it really is for sale. Check out the mls listing below:
http://www.mls.ca/PropertyDetails.aspx?vd=&SearchURL=%3fPage%3d2%26Mode%3d0%26vs%3d1%26rlt%3d%26cp%3d%26pt%3d0%26mp%3d700000-0-0%26mrt%3d-1-0-0%26Beds%3d0-0%26Baths%3d0-0%26f%3d%26ft%3dall%26o%3dD%26of%3d1%26ps%3d10%26ptgid%3d1%26aid%3d895%26MapURL%3d%253fAreaID%253d888&Mode=0&PropertyID=4271748



I'll have one of the rooms in my mansion done up to look like the Enterprise D bridge. Of course the view screen will actually be a widescreen TV. I'll also put all my Star Trek DVD's into a massive DVD changer so I can access any episode on demand from that little remote in the Captain's chair.


A porsche 911 convertible. A red one. I did a project on porsches in high school German class. Hitler had a 911. I'm surprised porsche doesn't use that fact much in their advertising. I spent a bunch of time on www.porsche.com customizing my car. Red leather interior, the works. The car starts at 136, 000. Mine ended up at 215, 855.


A smart roadster. This car is only available in the UK, but I'm sure I could fly one over. The problem with my car choices is that these are all two-seaters, with no room for baby! So I'll also need a nice family car, for driving baby around and long trips.


This is a porsche Cayenne. Don't know much about it, but porshe is a brand I trust. And look, it has room for baby in the back. Hey! Somebody stole my hubcaps!

Enough with the cars (the garage in my mansion isn't big enough!) Vacation time!

I want not one, but several European vacations. This castle is in Germany, but I'll of course want to see every country. I have to visit every museum mentioned in my art history classes, see the Sistine chapel, attend real German Octoberfest, get my picture taken leaning against the leaning tower of Pisa, ride in one of those Venice gondolas, climb the Eiffel Tower (again), and stop for periogies at Adam's Babcia's house.

With all the leftover money I have (and they'll be lots), I get my son a really great university education (or college, whatever he's into). Maybe he can get a few degrees. You can never have too many.

Baby goes to the doctor/ Baby goes to school

This morning I had another prenatal appointment where they took my blood. This time they made me drink a bottle of orange pop (special prescription orange pop of course) and then wait an hour. The vampires wanted the blood to have a little flavouring I guess. This is the test that is supposed to tell if I've turned into a diabetic.

Anyhoo. Tonight we went to our first prenatal class (we being me, my husband, Adam, and my unborn son). The teacher was this nurse who looks about thirty but says she has a twenty-year-old daughter. She talked a bit about nutrition and exercise and other pregnancy stuff. Like any first class, we just glossed over a little of everything and didn't really learn anything new. Some highlights:

At one point, the guys left the room and the women were asked to make a list of all the changes we noticed during the pregnancy (the guys made their own list). The woman who was jotting stuff down kept censoring what I said. For example, I'd say "my boobs are humongous!" and she's write "fuller breasts", and I'd say "I'm getting stupid" and she'd write "forgetfulness." This was kind of fun. Of course, being that we all had Mom Brain, we forgot about all the positive pregnancy stuff, like baby kicks, and not having a period. I cannot stress enough how much I love not having my period.

Near the end the teacher walked us through a relaxation exercise so that we'll have something to take our mind off the pain when we're in labour (she said this was necessary even if we plan to have an epidural because you don't always get juiced up right away). I got sort of lost when she asked us to visualize stuff, running through a meadow, etc. I pretty much gave up when she told us to picture a box and put our concerns in it. I'm sitting there thinking: "Okay I got the box open now how do I put my concerns in it? What does a concern look like? How do I visualize it? Have I pictured a big enough box?" and by this time the rest of the class is down the garden path, playing in a stream or something. So I just kept breathing in and out, which I admit is pretty relaxing, though by the end I was getting bored. Can we get out of this meadow and get on with the class, thought I. Adam thinks this is due to an undiagnosed attention deficit disorder and that only I would get bored of relaxation.