Also!

Things that make me happy:

1. 55 degree weather! (I'm not falling for it, Chicago)

2. Newfoundlands in underpants

3. Communist Boston Terriers

4. Ice cream

5. Nap time

Thinking

Sudacare shower soothers smell like a cross between a urinal cake and the ape house at the zoo.

They work....

Chicago loves you, baby

Dear Chicago;
If you know me AT ALL you know that cold is my least favorite weather. Cold with cold wind is the worst. So it was a wonderful, delightful excursion to Birmingham where the daffodils were in bloom and I didn't need a coat the whole time I was there. Then I come back to Chicago and it snows. Again.

Well, Chicago-- I have had it with your winter. We've got 14 days 'till the start of spring and I expect to see some big time changes 'round here. I didn't plant 40 crocus bulbs for the exercise, thankyouverymuch.

Oh, I know that the weather is supposed to be in the 50's next week, but let me tell you I'm not buying it. I was here last year when you gave us weeks of beautiful weather and then when my mother came to town in MAY you slammed us with a week of rain and temps in the low 40's. Sweet talk me all you want, but I'm on to you.

Annoyed with you and your cold;
Kara

Dear Kara,

Don't be like that. Chicago has lots to offer you, baby. How about June? We do June real nice 'round here.
All that ice and snow? I didn't know it wasn't your thing. I'll make it up to you, baby. Just you wait and see. You'll get your warm weather.
Chicago loves you, baby.

Love,
Chicago


Dear Chicago,

Don't call me baby.

Kara

Travel...weather...and other stuff too.

Hello!

We (A.D. and I) were in Birmingham, AL for a week--and I took pictures! But they're filmy pictures so I have to get them developed before I can share. The weather was gorgeous--between 60-70 degrees all week--until we decided to get on an airplane and come home. We wound up sitting in the airport for 3 hours while there were tornados, lightening, and no plane for us to get on. Adrian was remarkably good the whole time we were gone, although around day 5 he was saying "want to go home" frequently. And while I love my family, shuttling from place to place isn't exactly my idea of a relaxing vacation.

This past week, he has also started to declare "I'm so angry!" while curled up on the floor. I figure it's good for him to recognize his emotions, but it's hard for me not to laugh--he has such a sweet tiny voice which is in total contrast to what he's saying.

I'm still pregnant--25 weeks (15 weeks to go) and counting. It still seems like a long way off. I'm not sure if that's because the other pregnant moms that I'm friends with are due in 3 weeks and 8 weeks, or if it's because our baby is due in June and it feels like winter will never end. I'm still planning my garden. That's how unreal this pregnancy seems. As though I'm going to have the time/energy to get out there and dig in the dirt in 8 weeks. I have a doctor's appointment on Thursday, and an ultrasound to make sure that my incredible shrinking cervix hasn't shrunk any further, and to check on the state of my placenta previa. While I feel better during this pregnancy it has been more medically complicated than the last. All I'm hoping is that I can make it all the way through without needing bedrest.

And now! A snack and a nap.

More evidence

that my husband is a strange, strange man.

His comment on my pregnancy:

It's creepy. It's like you're running a hotel for small bald people in your uterus.

Blar.

I have been lazy of late. Call it the weather, call it the pregnancy, call it lazy. Whatever. I haven't been taking pictures or doing laundry or posting to the blog, as I know I should. Instead I have been re-reading books, playing with Adrian and trying out new recipes (banana cinnamon pancakes--yum!). Oh yes... I've also been on the phone. A lot. Trying to work out the logistics of travel and schedules and talking about really big dogs.
So there are things you may have missed if you haven't been on the receiving end of those calls. The first that I feel the need to share with you is this:
Aaron enjoys incense. Maybe it's because he never went through the whole normal college routine, or maybe it's because he associates it with good times in Kuwait, but whatever the reason he gets to burn it in the basement--which is primarily his little club house. All of that is fine and dandy except that the basement is where the computers live, and I too have a need for internet access and photo editing software. The newest incense of choice has an aroma that I can only describe as an old lady's boudoir. It's...unique...pungent...and slightly unpleasant. So while my nose is being assailed by this latest in odiferousness, my brain is trying hard to remember why I sat down at the computer in the first place and where is that old lady hiding, because I can smell her...

oy!

Here's A.D. playing in the snow.

I would've posted sooner, but Aaron killed the computer and now it refuses to install my photoshop and my computer won't connect to the internet and the whole thing is basically a big stinky electronic mess. whee!

Sunday we went to the Field Museum downtown to look at the dinosaur bones. Adrian's reaction to the hall of bones: holy crap. Right you are, kiddo. Those were some big mamma jammas.

And then? Monday Adrian started his Music 3 class--or as we've been calling it "big kid music class" wherein he is the youngest member rather than the oldest. It's taught by the same teacher, but there's a more physical aspect to it and he seems to enjoy it.

And then? I dunno. It's miserable cold here and I'm looking forward to spring. Or any time when it will be consistently over 32 degrees. I hate the cold. A lot.

Slacker Mommy

Wow!
I have pictures for you, but I just haven't shrunk them in photoshop so that I can cram them into one post and you can follow along, so you'll just have to hope I get my act together this weekend while Aaron is around to distract Adrian.
First: it snowed! And Adrian played in it, ate it, and generally enjoyed it the way kids are supposed to.
Then: How about that Bears game?! Granted I only saw the 2nd half because I'm not much of a football fan and I was asleep for the first half, but I have to say it was a bad day to be a Saint.
Nextly: I had my sonogram Tuesday. The baby is, in fact, a baby and not a two headed space monkey, so that's good. We're going to have to continue to call the baby Winky however as the little stinker kept his/her legs closed the entire time. That's right we're having a gender-as-yet-unspecified baby! So much for waiting until we knew to register, hunh?
And then: Adrian has mastered climbing out of his bed, a la Harry Houdini. It's a terrifying thing to watch and I've asked him not to do it any more. I'm sure one morning we'll wake up to his cheerful face by the side of the bed...or quite possibly to the sounds of him rummaging the pantry for tasty snacks.
In closing: It has been a busy week. I will endeavor to update (with pictures) more often than once a week.

All hail Caesar.

amour!

More funny things from the land of language acquisition:

Last night at dinner we were eating tacos.
Adrian points to a particular food item and inquires "this is?"
Aaron replies "cheese"
Adrian "Cheese. I love it!"

Tonight we were eating Chinese food and Adrian declares "Noodles. I love it!"

I have to say that I enjoy his enthusiasm at the table.

Last night Adrian and I were watching Emeril Live on Food Network and we were talking about the band that plays during the show. Well, I was talking about the band. Adrian was talking about the vand.

I tried to get him to say band. He can do buh and, but when you smoosh the sounds together and ask him to repeat "band" he goes buh vand. And it's not that he can't make the b-sound. He can say baby and bye and basketball with no problem. He just thinks that a group of people playing musical instruments is a vand and I'm the one who's got it wrong.

Adventures in laundry

I just pulled a handful of spaghetti-o's out of the washing machine.

Add to this the fact that the interior of my dryer is plastered with race car stickers.

If you knew nothing else about me, you would know that I live with a toddler.

Gah!

First, a funny:

Adrian has become...insistent on privacy while filling his diaper with stinky mess. Last week we were in his bedroom playing and to achieve proper privacy for said act, he pulled out the bottom drawer of his dresser and stuck his head in.

Now, a not so funny:

Last night Aaron was in a car accident. He's o.k. (though sore and bruised), the other people are o.k., the car however was not so lucky. We are grateful that it wasn't worse, but slightly perplexed on how to work our schedules to allow for only one set of wheels. I realize people all over the world have done it for ages but it's new to us.

December, in review.

Since Nessa has the audacity to call me a slacker, i will tell you what we have been doing in lieu of posting to the blog.

Dec 13-17: My mom came for a visit. We made cookies and went shopping and played in the park. I went to make dinner one night and had to go borrow 2 eggs from the neighbors, which was somehow embarrassing.

Dec21-24: The following week, Adrian and I got into the car and drove to the quad cities where we stayed with Aaron's parents for a few nights, before driving to Aaron's grandparents on Saturday for Christmas, part 2. The following day we drove to Aaron's other grandmother's house for christmas part 3. Then we drove back to our house for Christmas part 4.

December 25: Aaron was off work. We cleaned the house.

December 26: Adrian was godawful cranky and we went grocery shopping.

Today: Adrian got up at 5:30 AM, more crankiness.

And I have also been creating another person in my womb. So I'm not slacking, I'm busy living.
For pictures, please visit the Flickr account.

Have a cookie

Adrian and oreos: it's a messy affair.

Today we went to music class and afterward had lunch at Subway, where we shared a meatball sub. After he was done eating, AD requested a cookie. I figured it'd be a good car-ride-home snack, so I caved and paid the 48 cents for a sugar cookie with pink sprinkles. Normally on the ride home, I'll ask him how he's doing in the back seat, and he'll tell me "good" or "pretty good". Today I asked him: how're you doing back there?
and he told me: great!
And I said: great?! What makes you great?
And his reply: cookies.

Can't argue with that logic.

Amnesia, anyone?

Here is a more lighthearted post than the last one. I didn't mean to bum everyone out, and I really appreciate the outpouring of support. You guys make my life a happy place to be. Now, onward!

The last time I was pregnant I vaguely remember swearing that under no circumstances would I ever get pregnant again. As two years ticked by, all of the discomfort and (let's be honest) agony of pregnancy were slowly erased by the trials, tribulations, and joys of parenting. And now that I have made it through the first 11 weeks I am here to report to you things that ought not to have been forgotten:

unbelievably sore breasts As in, don't breathe too close to me because I find the air currents you are creating to be nearly unbearable in their force. And then take that level of sensitivity and pair it with a two year old who really enjoys employing a full body tackle whenever he can slide one in.
the gas And I'm not sure how I forgot this one, but I did. Everything gives you gas. And not just mild intestinal discomfort (no, no that would be too easy), but you fart like a middle aged man after nacho-and-beer night. I have discovered that Adrian thinks farts are at the height of humor, making me a one-woman comedy show. And when you happen to pass one in public, you get horrified looks from passers-by because they don't know that you're pregnant. They just think that you need to lay off the beans and learn some manners....mmmm...I could go for a taco bell bean burrito about now.
the cravings Sandwiches. And more sandwiches. I feel like I could live off of sandwiches. I go though a one pound loaf of sandwich bread in about 6 days. And it's always the same sandwich: miracle whip, meat, lettuce, tomato, cheese, mustard. Also, I've really taken a shining to grits. Made with milk (not water) with a little cheese swirled in. Although if you're really looking to get in good with me, pick me up a veggie roll from your nearest sushi stand.
the nausea And I've talked about it with people, so I know that I had it with Adrian--all day every day for four months-- but it still managed to come a a surprise when I woke up one afternoon and said: ugh. the idea of food makes me want to puke. This time around I only suffer nausea in the evenings, which isn't so bad except that it squishes any desire I have to actually cook dinner.
the irritability I don't think I'm as bad as I was last time but Aaron says that it's just because I have more people to be cranky at. Which I don't think is true, because Iwas pretty damn cranky at Jim last time. It's just--do what I ask you to do THE FIRST TIME. That's all I want. Adrian can't seem to comply because he has the attention span of a gnat. Aaron can't seem to comply because half the time he "can't hear me" (call me Mumbles!) and the other half the time he has the attention span of a gnat. A word of advice: don't criticize a pregnant lady. It doesn't matter if she was in the wrong. It's not going to end pretty.

Irritable? Me? No!
Okay, more often than not, but I try to keep a lid on it. I'm surging with hormones, people. There's only so much I can deal with on a daily basis.

Distracted

I was going to be funny and witty, but I am distracted because my little brother is really sick--like in the hospital really sick and I hate that I'm so far away and pretty much useless. Since I haven't talked to him I'm going to assume that he'd want me to keep the details of his illness off of the internet so I'll leave you with this thought:
Illness sucks. It's arbitrary and unfair and it sucks. And while I am aware that this world wasn't designed with fairness as it's main objective, it just seems wrong that good people can get sick and people who really deserve a kick in the ass can walk around healthy-as-you-please until their timely demise.
So that's what's got my knickers in a twist these days.

5 things about Me.

As per Sarah's request, here are 5 things that the readership general may not know about me.

1. I am a Francophile. I love nearly all things French. I love French food--although it would have to be a frosty day in Hades before you'd catch me eating tete de veau. I have studied the French language off and on since I was 7...and I speak it like an eight year old with a mild stutter. I have been to Paris only once, but rank it among my top 5 favorite places. My favorite book? Paris to the Moon by Adam Gopnik.

2. I enjoy bad jokes. Not bad as in in poor taste, bad as in: What do you get when you cross an elephant with a rhino? Elephino! (pronunciaton guide: Hell if I know!) The worse they are, the more they amuse me.

3. My dream is to travel to India, preferably on one of those Smithsonian journeys. Of course they cost around $6,000 USD, so it'll be a while before I've saved enough to do it. But one day!

4. If I won the lottery, I'd use the winnings to set up an arts center for underpriviledged kids. Art is one of the things that has been a mainstay in my life and a key element to coping with some really awful events. I believe in the theraputic effects of art and I think that every child should have the opportunity to express themselves, regardless of how much their school board budgets towards the art program.

5. I'm pregnant. And due in June. Surprise!

so, this is what 2 is like...

Terrible, indeed.

Example one:
Adrian: Dada, A.D. needs crackers.

Aaron: it's too close to dinner.

Adrian: Dadaaaa, A.D. neeeeds tasty wheat thins!

Aaron: no.

Adrian: (bangs head on floor)

Example two:
Adrian: Mama, go outside.

Me: Not right now.

Adrian: Go! Outside!

Me: It's 6:30 in the morning. How about we eat breakfast and wait for the sun to come up?

Adrian: GO! OUTSIDE!

Me: No.

Adrian: (bangs head on floor)


delightful.

Adrian's anatomy

Toddlers are supremely curious about the world around them and their place in it; Adrian has started to notice that there are in fact two genders*.
He explained it to me thusly:

Dada has penis.
Mama has sunglasses.

Your guess is as good as mine on that one, as I wear my sunglasses on my face like everybody else.

* Well, mostly two genders. We don't happen to hang out with Adrian in places where a third gender is readily presentable as a lifestyle option.

Halloween and the morning after

I made the executive decision not to take Adrian out trick-or-treating, as most of the stuff he would receive he wouldn't be able to eat (choking hazards and all that). Instead he helped me hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters, an activity he declared "exciting!" at one point in the evening. I was dissapointed in the lack of costumed youth, however. I expect it from high schoolers--a group of which told me there were dressed up as high school students, but when a gaggle of elementary school kids shows up at your door wearing the same clothes they wore home from school it's a little disheartening. I love Halloween--when I was little I wore my costumes for months of dress-up, when I was in highschool I used to spend weeks planning and making my own elaborate costumes. Now that I have no where to wear a costume, I throw on some bunny ears and call it a night. I can't wait until Adrian is old enough to get into the spirit of costumes and candy.

This morning, I was on the couch reading and Adrian was enjoying a snack of raisins--or so I thought. I looked up when he declared"uh-oh".
"What? Uh-oh what, A.D.?"
He looks at me with a perplexed face and sticks his finger into his right nostril, "raisin" he tells me.
"Raisin? Are you telling me you have a raisin in your nose?"
Finger still inserted in nostril, "Yes. Raisin nose"
(Gah! Panic! No, no. Wait, remain calm.)
"How about we take that finger out of your nose, then?" I grab a flashlight, convince him to tilt his head back, and sure enough, there in the mucusy confines of his nose a raisin waves back at me. "Blow", I tell him.
He does, nothing happens.
I press the empty nostril closed.
"Blow"
He does, and again, nothing.
"Blow hard"
And voila--a snot covered raisin rocket lands in my lap.

Than he wants me to clean it off so he can eat it.
I don't think so, pal.