Jumping Bean

So, the bean's been moving so much lately, we decided to film the fun. Available in two formats...

.mov format for Quicktime









.wmv for Windows Media

2 Lucky Girls

I just have to say, what girl could be more lucky to have this guy loving her?

Good thing there's enough there for both me and the bean or she'd have a fight on her hands upon arrival. (Big giant bruce lee hands don't scare me baby!)

(Really he's just thinking about his tasty beer.)

(I'm jealous.)

(I miss beer.)

Green. With Leaves.

It's been quiet the past few weeks. I guess things seem to go more slowly when you're waiting for someone to arrive. 15 weeks and counting. Right this moment, that feels like a really long time. Wonder what she'll look like. Green. With leaves maybe.

We went to see the doctor again Thursday. She's growing (the bean, not the doctor) and is very active (see Giant Bean Hands). She's about 13 1/2 inches tall, and weighs about a pound and a half. All is well and healthy. Lately, every once in a while, a 2 second video of the whole birth thing flashes inside my mind and I know my face is wrought with disbelief that I'll do okay welcoming the bean into the world. For now, I just continue to cram those thoughts back to the farthest corner of my mind and focus guessing what body part just shark-swam past by my belly button.

As we wait, babies are appearing in record numbers amongst our group of friends. With each arrival Jason and I share a sigh of relief, happy that everyone is okay, excited to see how life will change for them, for us. I imagine we'll have no shortage of sound advice and small people to play with in the coming years. Suddenly I'm glad we stayed in Lakewood for a whole new set of reasons.

Giant Bean Hands

Okay. We have a very, very active child. The bean's been kicking, hitting, etc. me for awhile now. Jason's even been able to feel a tap, tap once or twice from the outside. Then over the weekend the bean stopped moving around. I even kind of missed her pokes and poked her to see if I could get a response. Alas, all was quiet. Well, she must have been growing giant Bruce Lee bean hands and feet those few days because yesterday she started kicking again and now it's BIG! Like whoa, did you feel/see that? BIG. Like ew, was that a head or a butt just then? BIG. Like ow, enough, you're going to make a bruise. It's fun though. It makes me wonder even more so who we have coming along to join us in life. Do you think Bruce could work as a girl's name?

20 weeks

Well, another baby appointment, another belly shot. The bean's about 10 inches tall now. All is well. She's moving all over the place too. Kicking, kicking, kicking. Jason says she's not kicking, she's drumming. Regardless, she doesn't seem to care much for the doctor's visits. In fact, each time the midwife tried to listen to her heartbeat, she wiggled away. In the elevator, on the way out, Jason and I were mocking the bean using the voice and extended leg/foot motions of Stuart from MadTV.

"Noooo. Doooooon't."

The Smarter, Stronger Sex

Well, we saw the bean for the first time yesterday morning. At 19 weeks she (that's right, she) no longer looks anything like a bean. Instead, she's about 6 inches of growing baby.
The most important part is she's healthy. All the parts are there and in the right place and she's moving around like crazy. It was especially cool to see her move on the screen while feeling her kick and hit me in disgust while the ultrasound tech tried to get her to show us her bum to determine the sex. Bottom line: she rocks.

New digs

Well, I've had two weeks of spring break - but neither of us has been relaxing. The family helped us rip up all the carpeting upstairs and for days now, I've been going up and down two flights of stairs at least 900 times a day to cut flooring or trim or fetch the pencil I left in the basement next to the saw. We're both exausted, but check it out - now the alcove of our bedroom looks like a baby could move in without getting misplaced in a heap of laundry, dog hair or dirt. It was the last of the carpet in the house and I'm really glad now that it's gone.



So tonight, after a big IKEA furniture assembly session, we identified our favorite nursery item:
this excellent LED bird mobile thingy Jason found at the marvelous IKEA. As we stood next to the crib in blue illuminated quiet, he said "I wish I was small again. I want to climb right in there and go to sleep."

Hopefully the bean feels the same way.

Once Upon A Time-ah

Okay, I think this is pretty funny and it's baby related. Sort of.

Way back in the day, when Jason still lived in Burlington, VT, his band knew other bands and one of those bands was Bag Of Panties. We have a few of their CDs. They're quite clever. Anyways on their CD, Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day, is fabulous track 6, titled Catastrophe. I'd like to think it's about the conception of George W. but, alas, the song predates awareness of that catastrophe.

Here's the first line, repeatedly sung throughout our house over the past few months:

And here's the entire song if you have the time and bandwidth:

If you're using Firefox, you need to do this to hear the Panties:
1. Open Quicktime Player
2. Go to "Edit -> Preferences -> Quicktime Preferences"
3. Go to the Browser tab and click the MIME Settings button.
4. Enable MP3 files.
5. Click OK and refresh We & The Bean

Every Baby Needs A Rat

So the thing about babies, they take a while to get here. In the meantime, we're entertaining ourselves in some pretty infantile ways. We drove to the Pittsburg IKEA yesterday to buy a crib setup. We ended up getting way more than just the crib, all for someone who's still breathing in their own pee. Jason's #1 favorite purchase was a rat. Apparently every baby needs a rat. Or at least ours does. I've named it Templeton so as not to get too creeped out. Memories/visions of my college pal's pet rat Ava, dragging anything and everything to her treasure pile under the bed pop into my head whenever I look at it. I stop myself before Ava adds our baby to the pile.

Whatever... Jason loves it and I love Jason, so our baby, has a rat.

Expansion

Today I buttoned my pants...and by the time I got to work I wanted to rip them into a sad, sad pile. Thus, I have immediately converted to using a rubber band to fasten my pants together. By the end of the day I decided that that's really what rubber bands are made for. As the day passes, the bean makes more gas, the belly gets bigger and the band... just expands. It's one of those modern miracles. So stretchy.

WAPAM!

I woke up yesterday morning for work and - wapam! - the Bean grew like crazy overnight. In this 14th week I can still wear my normal pants but Jason's belt rather than mine is now a necessary though somewhat sad fashion adjustment.

Jason really wanted monthly belly shots for the blog during the second and third trimesters. He must have sensed that I'm a little sensitive about my new alien protrusion (my body has suddenly become over-stuffed sausage casing) as he eagerly volunteered his own belly for all to see. It's so furry! You know you want to pet it - but no, no, you can't. It's mine all mine.

Bean Art

A few months back, our friend Lisa's computer died and I brought it back to life. Though they didn't have to, they got us a gift certificate to our favorite art gallery, Local Girl (right down the street in glorious Lakewood, Ohio.) We stopped in today and Jason found this. We've titled it We & The Bean. We're wondering if there's any significance to the two leaves rather than one though...

Stinky Bean

The vet called. Max is fine. No bladder infection, no hyperthyroid thing, no kidney whatever, no nothin. Just attitude.

I sit and stare at him. I'm so tired of soaking up pee every night when I get home. The carpet is crunchy with enzyme cleaner. What's the deal you pisspot?

I search online and, later, my mom confirms, we think Max can smell the bean and apparently he's not too happy about it.

So I start a regimine of extra luv and hope it works.

You Shittin' Me?

Now that we have the okay, we visited the Williams' last night. We took a stack of photos from Christmas, Dad's Birthday and last but not least, the one shown above. It's from New Year's Day. The day I realized something was up and peed on a stick.

Mom went through the stack first. She gets to the last photo, THE photo, and squints. First she guesses tampon instructions. Then she guesses pregnancy test. We say yep. She stands up, starts crying then says, "You shittin' me?" Then booooo hoooo hoooo! (but the happy kind).

Dad said he knew a few weeks ago. I wasn't drinking his beer.

Me and my family = classy.

and happy.

Whough, Whough, Whough, Whough

Today we walked up to our first doctor's appointment. Our new doc rocks. She's no nonsense, sturdy and told me to drink coffee, have an occasional glass of wine, eat chocolate and take as many baths as I want. Whattoexpectwhenyou'reexpecting be dammed. That book can kiss it. I drove myself mad for nothing. Hooray for my reclaimed vices.

She also told Jason that pregnant women are supposed to be gassy. Hormones cause gas. Lots and lots of it. So now he can't yell at me any more.

Then the best part. She squirted some jelly on the belly and used doppler (like dual doppler but without Dick Goddard's radar) to check for a heart beat. The moment of truth.

Here's what we heard {click}

We both laughed. That's 100% joy right there.

WHOPEEDINTHEHOUSE! THAT's BAD!

Today Max and I took the car to the shop then walked the vet's and walked home. He's been peeing (and sometimes pooping) in the house for the past month or more. Even when we're there. He's 9. He knows better. So we figure something's wrong. First we blamed it on Grace (or I did at least). She took it all in stride. It was Max.

So, the vet checked him out. She thinks he has hypothyroid issues. We'll find out next week.

You Need An Outlet

Jason has been saying that for a few weeks now. Especially before we told anyone about the bean. Especially when I was going on 3-4 hours a sleep a night, waking him with tears, asking how long the first three months were going to last. Middle-of-the-night sickness. 2am sickness. My mantra: I will not puke. I will not puke. Then 5 o'clock rolls around again and off to work, back home, fruit for dinner because everything else sounds gross, in bed by 8, awake again by 12.

I do need an outlet.