Cranky, cranky....

Yes, I am.
And considering that my baby's due date isn't for another 3 days, I don't know why everyone keeps calling me to ask if he's here yet.
He's not.
If it were up to me, he would've been here two weeks ago and then y'all could read about how I'm cranky due to a lack of sleep, instead of:

DUE DATES
I'm tired of it. Sick and tired of it. And I'm about ready to pound on the next person who says anything to me about babies and due dates and how Halloween would be the perfect day for him to be born. I may be 9 months pregnant and weigh more than I ever have in my entire life, but I will still kick your ass. Repeatedly, if need be.

BIRTH PLAN
And what's up with people asking me if I plan on having a natural childbirth? The answer is not only no, but hell no: I plan on delivering this baby out of my armpit whilst playing a John Phillip Sousa tune on a one-man-band-type-apparatus.
Delivering a child is a private matter--it involves one's genitals, therefore it's private (see how that works?). I don't ask you questions about your genitals, so don't ask me questions about mine.

If you have any further questions, you can write them on a piece of paper...
and then set fire to it.

Thank you, that is all.

Seriously, now....

Ah-hem-hem-hem (and other throat-clearing noises)

My uterus is obviously on strike.
This baby will never be born.
I will die, and like Queen Mary of England (Elizabeth I's elder sister), they will discover that it was not a baby after all but a ginormous tumor...two years they though she was pregnant--how bizarre is that?
All of this is to say that my contractions cannot decide how strong they want to be, but I know that 20 minutes apart and mild discomfort isn't enough to eject a baby.
I'll go to bed in a few minutes here and the contractions will undoubtedly stop.
Why?
Because my uterus is on strike and THIS BABY WILL NEVER BE BORN.

yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeearrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggggghhhh!!!

What is that smell?

Firstly--bravo for reading this, after a title like that.
Secondly--No, I haven't had the baby yet.

(On with the show!)

It's been raining for about 17 hours now, and the humidity in the house is at 75% (according to the hygrometer--which I'm not sure is actually working properly, it's been dropped so many times). And our computer room smells like a cross between a wet dog, cheap plastic toys, and mildew. I'm sure it's all mildew, seeing as how we have neither dog nor any plastic toys.

I think the plastic toy association is because when I was younger (read: 8 years old), our family lived in a rental home with a horrendous mildew problem in the basement. The basement that became, by default, the playroom for my younger brother and I. This was the same house where my brother earned the moniker of "Buckethead", due to his tendency to wear a bucket on his head as a helmet whenever he played G.I. Joe. He claims no memory of this activity, even though we've got the photos to prove it happened.

Back to the smell--I fear there's nothing I can do about it. I can't open the windows to air the room out, as it is supposed to continue raining for the next 4 days. And I don't see any evidence of mildew; so attacking the source isn't an option. Also, I really don't want to be wielding toxic chemicals in my home when there's a baby on the way.

Perhaps I should just invest in one of those respirators that look like something out of a low-budget sci-fi film...Then I could call myself "The Intrepid Pregnant Explorer of the Western Stench".

Three Down...

Hooray!
Well, hooray and ouch.
Before you continue: this post has a happy ending, and there's still a baby in my uterus.

Went to the hospital last night to visit the nice folks at Labor & Delivery (I'm starting to feel like I should bring gifts, I go so often) b/c my hips were trying to escape my body and it hurt. So they hooked me up to the monitors, checked my cervix (ow-ow-ow) and proclaimed that I was at 3cm, contracting irregularly and could go home. Or, if the pain was too much to bear, I could stay there for overnight monitoring on a morphine drip. MORPHINE DRIP. I'm not a big fan of pain, but I'm gonna have to say that before I let you put morphine in me I'm probably going to have to be suffering a flesh-eating virus or similar. Morphine is an opiate, yes? Opiates are addictive, yes? And morphine passes through the placenta and into the baby.
So, um, thanks, but no.
Anyway, back to the exciting stuff. Well, exciting and kinda gross. This morning I lost my mucus plug--well I didn't lose it, it fell out and I flushed it down the toilet. But that means that it's now cervix and amniotic sac side by side (as opposed to cervix-mucus plug-amniotic sac); which means that it's baby's head on cervix....Which means that we're THAT MUCH CLOSER to delivery.
hooray!
Countdown to baby (T minus x; x being an unknown value due to the fact that babies operate on their own schedules...)
siiiiiiigh.

Early Education

If this baby ever decides to be born, we are living in the perfect house for him to become an entomologist. I'm not saying that I'd like for my son to be obsessed with bugs; it's just that we seem to have a wide variety of them sneaking into our home March through November.
So far I have experienced: 3 tarantulas, 4 wolf spiders, countless crickets, mosquitoes, houseflies, cockroaches (which are the bane of my existence), weevils, moths, June bugs, roly-polies (pill bugs), and numerous bugs the likes of which I have never before seen.
Now, I don't have a problem with most (read: non-poisonous & small) spiders, and we currently have a spider living between 2 panes of our sliding glass door that I've named Francois (fran-swah). For a while we had a spider living in the bathroom that I called Herman, until Herman produced egg sacks and my husband decided it was time for Herman to go. I figure that having spiders is similar to having cats--they both catch and kill things so I don't have to.
I know some of you are currently standing on chairs and calling the exterminator for me, but look: the bugs aren't living & breeding in the house, they're coming in from outside. How do I know this? We're living in a run-down rental home that has an inch or so gap between the bottom of all doors and the threshold. And I've never seen baby bugs, just fully grown ones. So, unless you plan to foot the bill to exterminate the entire neighborhood, just bring a can of RAID when you come to visit.

Ah-hah!

It is, in fact, a troupe of trained ninja-assassin mosquitoes that have invaded our home. I am covered in bites from my attempts to squash the buggers. They are sneaky, sneaky beasties and if I could, I would rain sulfur upon them.
But for now I have to go find the hydrocortisone before I peel my skin off to stop the itching.

Either/Or

Our computer room is home to either the world's tiniest vampires or a team of stealth mosquitoes.

I have bites.
They itch.

Are we there yet?

The list of things that I have tried to encourage labor is getting longer by the day. The list of things that have worked so far is non-existent.
Here, in no particular order (and with a few items left out for privacy's sake) is what I have tried so far:

1. Eating spicy food...Not a bad experiment, and Texas Pete hot sauce goes really well on a number of foods.
2. Walking. And walking. And walking some more. All this has done was encourage my feet to swell and my knees to make funny creaking noises.
3. Stretching in various gravity-friendly yoga poses. And squatting--what?! It opens up your pelvis.
4. Positive thought--tougher than it sounds. Goes a little something like this: Open up, friendly cervix! It is time for you to get to work, efface and dilate--I know you can! Because if you don't I'm shipping you to Tanzania on the first possible flight you lousy good-for-nothing useless body part!
5. Foot massages. While nice don't seem to have the desired effect.
6. Shopping. Maybe being in a public place will cause the embarrassment of ruptured membranes? (SPLASH! "clean up on aisle 5")
7. Cleaning and doing mounds of laundry. Perhaps the repetitive action of washer-to-dryer will spark something?

See the thing is this--if I go into labor then I can get my husband back out of the field. Otherwise I'm on my own for longer than anyone in my condition should be, because the Army owns my husband. That's the deal you make when you join. And to be fair to other Army wives, at least he's stateside. But that doesn't change the fact that I am very pregnant and overly emotional and just want what I want when I want it...dammit.

And now I am going to bake some bread--it's a multiple hour process that depends heavily on the timing of things being just so. Maybe that'll do it.

Singing the praises...

Of plumbers.
Hooray for plumbers!
We have questionable plumbing in our house--the question being "will this drain properly or back up into the downstairs bathroom?" The answer to that question two days ago was "downstairs bathroom", which is why the plumber was here yesterday. He fixed it by snaking out the exterior line and then announced that the problem was tree roots. We had tree roots in our exterior sewer line. Which is odd because we don't have trees on that side of the house....
I think that plumbers are some of the most underrated professionals out there. We should have a national holiday dedicated to the celebration of the people who do the important, underrated jobs. People like plumbers, garbage collectors, appliance repairmen (repairpersons?), and the like. They should have a parade and everybody can have the day off of work--and I don't think that Labor Day counts. These important folk deserve a day unto themselves.
We could call it "Folks-who-make-life-better" day. And there should be some sort of associated food that goes with the day...Krispy Kreme* Doughnuts, perhaps. If you've never had a Krispy Kreme; stop what you are doing and go get one RIGHT NOW.
My husband doesn't like doughnuts, but will eat six Krispy Kremes at one go.
Maybe Krispy Kremes should get their own holiday....
Yes!
I hereby declare today, the third Tuesday of October, to be Krispy Kreme day.
Now go get some doughnuts, take the afternoon off and enjoy your holiday.

*If I'd listened to spell check, you'd be reading a post about "crisp Koreans"

Here's the deal...

Okay.
I know a lot of you are really excited about this baby, and some of you are even more excited that his due date is Halloween. And I appreciate your enthusiasm, but if one more person tells me that I have to wait to have this kid some serious unpleasantness will ensue.
For those of you offering advice who have already have children: thank you, and I know you know what I'm going through.
For those of you offering advice who have never had children, let alone menstrual cramps: I love you, but shut it.
I have been having "mild contractions" for 2 days now--not strong enough to change my cervix from 2 cm to 4 cm, but strong enough that I feel like surgically removing my own pelvis to MAKE. THEM. STOP.
Yes, I am cranky. Yes, I am uncomfortable. And yes, I will turn into the Dragon Lady and eat your eyeballs if the urge strikes me.
So tread lightly, m'kay?

Wedding Congrats

I am so sorry I couldn't be there today!
I love you both tremendously and wish you a lifetime of love and laughter.
CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!

Wedded Bliss

(photo) Congratulations to Nes and Sandy on their wedding!

Useless!

I have come to the conclusion that it would be (to quote Martha) "a good thing" to visit the local farmer's market.
Woe unto me.
Did you know that the USDA has a website that lists farmer's markets by state? And even tells you when/where they will be? And gives you a contact number so you can get more information? (Love the lovely USDA!)
I, however, have failed to learn from my past experiences with Oklahoma bureaucracy. I was hoping that since I am in a new county that things might run better.
Woe unto me.
I was passed back and forth like a frisbee, with each new person declaring that they "don't really know anything about [the farmers market]".
I guess I'll just drive around to all possible locations tomorrow morning and hope that I find it. (wheeeeeee!!)

On a completely unrelated note, here's a list of things I should be doing instead of typity-typing away:

1. Cleaning the bathrooms...How is it that a toilet can develop a gross rust ring in a weeks' time? (didn't I just clean you, you stupid bathroom?!)
2. Calling that on-again-off-again friend who's decided to be on-again.
3. Tape up that box so I can mail it to Sarah, like I promised to in June. And July. And August. And September. At this point I may as well upgrade to a larger box and fill it with chocolates so that maybe she'll overlook the fact that I'm a terrible, forgetful person.
4. Coming up with something witty to leave on Nessa's answering machine tomorrow while she and Sandy are getting married. (CONGRATS YOU TWO!)
5. Cleaning up the remnants of my crafting frenzy from the living room, which have been sitting out for nearly a month now.
6. Finishing the art projects I started for the baby's room.

Six isn't so bad, is it?

I lose again!

Every time I think I've figured out a way to effectively communicate and train our cats, I lose. You think I'd give up by now, seeing as most of my strategies are as effective as a square wheel. The problem is that cats are smart. After our simian cousins, the cat's brain is the most similar to ours in physiological function. Which means that, in theory, cats are capable of figuring out puzzles and the like. But because they are cats, they don't see the world as we do.
For example, we live in a dilapidated rental home. Some of our windows have screens and some do not. The screen on the back door had a huge hole in it when we moved in. Our industrious cats soon figured that they could let themselves in and out of the house through these many faulty screens. Which led to our first problem, namely the new kitty doctrine of "that which is not a wall must be a door". Thus the cats have attempted to enter or exit through ANY window, screened in or nay. Which has led to many instances of me yelling and brandishing a squirt bottle full of water.

With dogs you can train them to avoid certain behaviors if you reprimand them while in the act; with cats it is not so simple. What happens is that the cat learns to avoid having you around while perpetrating the offending behavior.
They're sneaky, see?

And as I am very pregnant, I cannot see my feet. The cats have begun to take advantage of that as well. Jack, the most garrulous cat this side of the Mississippi, has taken to meowing at me from under the shade of my belly. When I move to make eye contact with him, he moves right along with me, continuing to demand that I pay attention! It's like I have a kitty waltzing partner. When he tires of this charade, he rubs against my legs (while purring) and then saunters off to the food bowl.

But today--today was the most treacherous of all abuses of my blind spot!
I had just finished rolling the trashcans back from the curb and was preparing to go inside when I noticed Lunchbox's reflection in the window of the front door. I couldn't actually see her, as she was standing beneath where I keep the baby. So I open the door, Lunchbox runs in ahead of me and drops a bird, a very much alive bird, on the middle of the living room floor. And I just about lose it--I'm trying to herd the bird out the open door, while the bird is trying to avoid me and Lunchbox at the same time, all the while dropping feathers all over the place. This bird is not so much scared as it is pissed off and it keeps making a horrible angry-bird noise while I try to corral it. I eventually figure that this is not a cooperating type of bird and go off to grab a dishtowel, for the purposes of subduing the squawking menace. I am at the same time, yelling at Lunchbox (as though she speaks English) "How many times do I have to tell you 'no animals in the house'?" Well, I don't know if inside wasn't as fun as she thought, or if she was tired of me yelling, but while I was off getting a towel, Lunchbox took the angry bird back outside. Leaving a feather-and-poop strewn living room for me to clean up.
So the tally is officially 2-0 in Lunchbox's favor; that's one rat and bird she's managed to sneak by my pregnant body.

And now...Politics.

http://www.cherokeebiz.com/eddieglenn/eddieglenn_mrshrub.html

A singer-songwriter acquaintance of mine wrote this, and another acquaintance gave it a short video. The author describes it as "an anthem for red necks against war". You may find it enjoyable or (if you think that our current President hung the moon) you may not. I think it's pretty clever.

A tiny portfolio

(photo)Here's a short series of paintings I did Fall/Winter 2003. This one's titled River.

(photo) This is Plains, and curently resides in our living room. 

(photo) This painting is called Ocean.

Antefetus

You know, like Antebellum....
I have a degree in art, and have enjoyed painting as far back as I can remember. I used to paint with frequency, working on 2-3 paintings at a time. That was all before I got pregnant and turned into a human slug. I am hoping that in a year or two I can return to a paired-down version of my former painting schedule. In the meantime, I have these reminders of what it's like to have time AND energy...
enjoy!

The one with the movie

We're back from another Army-sponsored childbirth class, and boy do I feel enlightened...
Tonight we got to look at all kinds of labor & delivery devices such as the fetal scalp monitor and a set of forceps. You know how when you watch those baby shows on TV and they show the forceps, and you think to yourself "there's no way those are that big"--well, I'm here to report that the forceps are every bit as large and scary as they appear on TV.
We also got to watch a video of some live births, shot in the 80's if the hairstyles were any indication. My favorite couple was the chick with the David Lee Roth 'do married to the guy with the mullet. The video wasn't any more graphic or disturbing than watching a live birth on the Discovery Channel or TLC. And I don't think it was as informative as "Birth Day" on the Discovery Channel.
The best part of the video had to be our instructor's commentary after the thing was over...especially when she compared the delivery of one baby to "arriving on a waterslide". I don't know if it's because she's a soldier and a nurse or if it's just her personality, but she does like to tell us gross and disturbing stories. Maybe she's just handing out little doses of reality to all of the 18 year-old-moms-to-be. It's hard to tell.
Watching other women in labor always brings to mind the question of how I'll handle it. I'm going to go ahead and assume that I'll be a wimpy whiny mess, and that way if I handle it better I'll be really pleased with myself.
It's all about low expectations, people.