Baby Shower !!!

Yesterday afternoon, my very most dearest friends in the whole wide world, Damselfly and Roo, threw me the most fantabulous, spectacular, incredible, marvelous baby shower that the world has ever seen. At this most fantastic event, there was no sniffing of baby food jars to determine what flavor of baby food was contained therein, nor was there measuring of my stomach with toilet paper. (Hallelujah!) Instead, my friends decorated onesies using fabric paint and markers, and we played "The Price is Right" with a number of baby items. (I LOVED "The Price is Right" when I was younger! I watched it all the time! lol!) Additionally, Roo made her famous Oatmeal Carmelitas (which are little pieces of heaven, I must say,) and Damselfly invented a brand-new ice cream flavor just for me with her ice cream maker. She created "Raspberry Mocha Latte Teddy Bear Ice Cream" and it was delish.

Here is a stunning photograph of the lovely Roo, Guinevere, and Damselfly. (Would you believe that Damselfly had a baby just 7 weeks ago??!! I hope I lose my baby weight as quickly as she has...)

I received many, many wonderful gifts at the shower, but more importantly than that, I was able to celebrate the coming of my little one with the women who are closest to me.

I Love You a Latte

(Photo from http://www.starbucks.com/business/default.asp.)


Confessional time.

I. Love. Starbucks. (By the way, who was the first person to put periods after individual words as a means of emphasis? It's SO grammatically incorrect, yet for some reason quite effective at putting a "tone of voice" into the written word.) Fabulous.

Anyway, back to my story. Starbucks, the mecca of caffeine-induced stupors of wonderfulness. Delectable beverages which require multiple words to order: "Grande Raspberry No Whip Mocha." Or, "Venti nonfat decaf cappucino."

Did you see the movie "You've Got Mail?" I love the scene where Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan are discussing the way that ordering coffee gives one a "defining sense of self" due to the incredible number of decisions involved in ordering such a beverage. (One of my favorite movies, by the way. I think I'll curl up on the couch and watch it tonight while hubby has to take care of some work stuff this evening! Anyone want to join me?)

However, I am 35 weeks pregnant. When I walk into establishments such as Starbucks, people take one look at my belly and then gasp in horror. "She's going to kill that poor child!" Good gracious. While I understand that certain substances are in fact dangerous to the unborn child, really, how dangerous is one latte a week? I've heard that pregnant women can safely consume the equivalent of 2 cups of coffee per day without any bad effects. I am only consuming two cups of coffee a week at the most!

But really, when a woman is 35 weeks pregnant, waddling around and bumping into things with her belly, can barely get out of a chair without assistance, doesn't she deserve some pampering now and then? For me, a Grande Raspberry Mocha with no whipped cream is the perfect "comfort food." (I know, I know, it's not food, but it has the same effect!) At least it will be until the Christmas holidays come around and they bring back the Gingerbread Latte. (Yum-O.)

Plus, I think my little Lancelot likes a bit of coffee every now and then. The bouncing and jumping becomes quite pronounced as I approach my temple of caffeine. While consuming the divine beverage, things are still as the little one savors every sip. Then afterwards, he does a little jig in appreciation.

On the few occassions in which I indulge myself in caffeine, I can't help but look down at my protruding belly and say to the little one, "I love you a latte."

A Strange Sight

I was taking a walk this afternoon along my canal. (I say "my canal" as if it belongs to me...lol!) As I strolled along the sidewalk, taking in the scent of the water and the sound of the birdsongs, I looked up and saw something strange.

Someone had hung a bird cage up in a palm tree. With a parakeet in it.

Isn't the purpose of a bird cage so that one can keep a bird in their home? This cage was hanging up very high, so whomever owned the cage would have to climb up on a ladder to put food and water in there.

I called my friend Damselfly, who is well versed in all things wildlife. She informed me that in our region, we have non-native birds that have made it into the local ecology, and that the powers that be have decided that if people can catch these birds, then it is perfectly legal for them to keep them as pets. I guess these birds are a threat to native plants and animals since they have no natural predators in the area or something. (I can't remember. Damselfly can tell you more about it!) Anyway, she put forth the suggestion that maybe someone hung up the cage there to lure one of these birds in an effort to catch it. And if that is the case, the cage ought to be gone tomorrow, since there was clearly a bird in there today. Or, she said, maybe they left the cage door open and the bird is free to come and go as he/she pleases. I would hope that one of her theories is correct, because how sad would it be for a bird to be trapped in a cage while it can see and hear all of its birdie relatives flying freely? That just seems downright cruel to me. Also, if someone is keeping their pet bird in a cage hanging from a tree outdoors, then the bird is at risk to predators-- racoons could come and get it, a snake could crawl up the tree and into the cage, all sorts of things. So I have made it my mission to check on this bird cage every day and see what's going on.

If something seems to be amiss after a few days, Damselfly knows someone I can call who will come rescue the bird. Hopefully, I can find out who the owner of this cage is and find out what's going on for myself.

My Silent Symphony

To all of you pregnant women out there, or those of you who were recently pregnant, or EVER pregnant for that matter, did you ever have an emotional breakdown in the middle of the night? I did. Last night, 1 am. My little Lancelot was kicking me hard on the bladder, I couldn't maneuver my gargantuan body pillow to properly support all this extra weight, and hubby started snoring loudly. I started sobbing, right there in bed, and scared hubby to death. I started begging to "just have a day off from being pregnant."

Fortunately, I have the sweetest, most loving husband in the world. He held me, rocked me back and forth, and told me how much he loved me and how it was all going to be okay, and how sorry he was that I'm having such a hard time. After I calmed down, he also suggested that I go to get a prenatal massage from my doula, saying that it would be a way for me to at least have an afternoon off from being pregnant! Isn't he wonderful? (I'm going to call and schedule that today!)

Anyway, I eventually fell asleep, but awoke early this morning before the sun was up. I decided I would go ahead and get out of bed, make myself a cup of tea, and go sit on my balcony and watch the sun come up. I couldn't have done anything better for myself after the middle-of-the-night freakout.

I live at the back of an apartment complex, and am so fortunate to have a lovely view of the canal running behind the complex. It's very private and quiet, and this morning it was just me, the water, the sky, and the birds as they awoke. Sipping my tea, I watched a spider spin an elaborate web and pondered its motives. There it was, working so hard to create something that I couldn't even see yet. Many people would have rushed over to break the web, but I didn't. I wanted to watch the spider create its work of art.

Without really noticing, I witnessed the sky turn from a dark blue to lavendar to pink, and finally to the lovely color of morning. I heard the song of the birds as they woke up and greeted each other. Ducks flew in and landed silently on the water, and meandered peacefully up and down the waterway, which they had to themselves for a few moments, for in a few short hours the waterway will be crowded with all kinds of wildlife.

It was the most peaceful I have felt in about 8 months. As though God Himself orchestrated this beautiful silent symphony for me, to comfort me in my distress of the dark of night. It was all for me. No one else was around. I saw the houses on the other side of the canal, some with lights on, some were still dark. But as for the sunrise, it was mine and mine alone and I will cherish it always.

My own silent symphony.

Of Doctors and Test Results

I find it amazing how two doctors can look at the same test results and come up with two different ideas.

Awhile back I posted about the possibility of me having gestational diabetes. Well, the results came back and Doctor #1 said that I was free and clear, but just to be safe, I should "watch my carbs."

I went back today for my next appointment, and this time I saw Doctor #2 (who will most likely be on call in the event Doctor #1 is unable to attend my child's birth.) She reviewed the same test results, and had a little freak-out on me!! Apparantly, the way the 3-hour glucose works is they take your blood three times, and if you have "elevated levels" two of the three times, then you are diabetic. I had elevated levels on the first draw, but the second and third were fine. HOWEVER, the second draw I was only 3 points below "elevated," and I apparantly had sugar in the urine sample I left just before going in to the exam room. So Doctor #1 doesn't seem terribly worried, but Doctor #2 wants me to completely eliminate sugar from my diet.

My question is this: where does the truth lie? Is Doctor #1 right, or is Doctor #2? Or is it somewhere in the middle? After my appointment with Doctor #1 when she said I was not diabetic, I went home relieved, and drank sodas to my little heart's content. Now I'm being told to radically change my diet, based on the same test results!! Why so much confusion? What's a preggo to do?

Argh.

I'm off to drink a diet coke. Blech.

Let the Nesting Begin!

It's official. I've hit the milestone. The countdown to The Big Day has begun.

I have begun nesting. There's only so much I can do in the nursery itself, as the baby showers have yet to happen, but little by little, piece by piece, things are coming together. I've sorted through all the things I've been given from friends with older children and bits and pieces I've picked up at yard sales. I've washed the fabric covers for the bouncy seat and swing, and also washed the bassinet sheets.

I've been scouring eBay for products I still need. I received my first order of Bumkins cloth diapers, and I giggled like a little girl opening a Christmas present. Over diapers. Something that is going to be filled with human feces, and I was thrilled by the very idea!

I look around the house and see all these projects that need to be done before young Lancelot arrives: we need to replace the drawer pulls on the dresser and fix the drawer that doesn't want to slide out, we need to build some shelves in the laundry room to double as a pantry so I can use the hall closet for all the stuff that's currently filling up the nursery, (thanks to the geniuses who designed this apartment complex-- there's plenty of closet space, but unfortunately none are convenient to the kitchen to serve as a pantry. Right now, one set of cabinets and a section of countertop is being used for the pantry, as are two shelves in the hall closet, which is nowhere near the kitchen. Argh.) all the empty boxes from our recent move need to be taken to the dumpster instead of staying piled up in the corner, and we need to figure out where on earth to display DH's collection of lego stuff- he's got a pirate ship, a ferrari, and tons of Star Wars stuff that he's built, and it's all sitting in cardboard boxes...in the nursery.

The baby clothes that I do have need to be washed and folded and placed in the dresser which is in the garage, waiting for new drawer pulls and a repaired drawer, which we can't bring upstairs until we clear out all the stuff that's currently in the nursery, which can't be moved until I make space in the hall closet because it's doubling as a pantry, which can't be emptied until the new shelves are built in the laundry room (which IS close to the kitchen). Oy. I'm getting tired just thinking about it.

I'm envious of these moms who have everything together. They have their nursery ready by the beginning of the third trimester, their freezers are full of casseroles and other delectable goodies that can be re-heated so mom doesn't have to cook right away after the baby arrives, everything the baby needs has been purchased, cleaned, put away, and is ready for use.

On second thought, does anyone ACTUALLY do that? If any of you meet the above criteria, please teach me your secrets!!

Seclusion

(photo from Ads of the World.)

I think I understand now why women in days of yore went into seclusion when they found out they were pregnant.

It was so they would not have to answer stupid questions, and endure the ridiculous comments of the blissfully ignorant.

I say "blissfully ignorant" because to the one who is ignorant, it is blissful to be so. However, to the person upon which the blissfully ignorant chooses to bestow his or her blissful ignorance, it is not so blissful.

I really hope you understand that last sentence because I can't think of any other way to explain it.

These blissfully ignorant souls really have no idea how much damage they are inflicting upon the mother-to-be. Bless their little hearts, they don't mean to be insulting and/or aggravating. They just can't help it because they haven't been there yet. Or they HAVE been there, but it's been such a long time, that they have forgotten.

Here is an example of a recent (ACTUAL) conversation with someone of the blissfully-ignorant persuasion. This is a person I had never previously met, but found myself working with in a volunteer effort at my church.

Blissfully Ignorant: "Wow, you look REALLY pregnant! How pregnant are you?"

Guinevere Meadow: "I'm 31 weeks pregnant."

B.I. "What does that mean?"

G.M. (thinking to herself, it means I've been pregnant for 31 weeks, you twit.) "It means I have 9 weeks to go because 40 weeks is considered full-term."

B.I. "So when are you due?"

G.M. (Duhhh...if I have 9 weeks to go, then it must be sometime near the end of November. I guess B.I. just really can't do math.) November 29th.

B.I. "Are you SURE?"

G.M. (No, I'm not sure, as it goes. You see, my doctor is a complete quack and doesn't know how to calculate due dates. I've had three sonograms and about 15 bajillion office visits, and STILL she can't tell when the baby's coming.) Yes, I'm sure.

B.I. "Wow, it looks like you're having twins. Are you?"

G.M. (I don't think I'll EVER get tired of that question.) No, there's just one baby in there!

B.I. "Are you SURE?"

G.M. (Again, my doctor's a total quack. Three sonograms and 15 bajillion office visits have not yet confirmed how many people are currently residing in my uterus.) Yes, I'm sure. By the way, that's really a rude question.

G.M. leaves the room so as not to perpetuate any further sarcasm and to prevent B.I. from further embarassment.

End scene.

This is a conversation I have had with multiple people, most of which are people who do not know me well. (These are the same people who feel obligated to come up and rub my tummy. Why? I just don't get it. When did it become socially acceptable to put your hands on a person that you don't REALLY know all that well? Sigh.) I came home that day disgruntled with people in general, and decided I wanted to go somewhere where there were no people.

So I went to a scrapbooking workshop with some people I didn't know, and went to watch my husband's softball game afterward, among lots of people, some of whom I knew and some of whom I didn't. Thankfully, everyone I encountered that evening was very respectful of boundaries. The women I met at the scrapbooking workshop were all women who had given birth, so they knew better than to ask me if I was having twins. I was able to tell them about the conversation with B.I. and laugh about it with them.

It was balm to my soul.

I guess I don't totally want to be away from people. I just want to be away from the blissfully ignorant.

Longing

I had a moment this morning.

There I was, standing in my closet, gazing upon my wardrobe choices for the day.

To my consternation, my eyes wandered off to the far left, which is where my non-maternity clothes are lying in waiting. Today they started taunting me.

"You can't wear me today!!" "There's NO WAY I'll fit over that huge belly of yours!" "You only WISH I still fit you! HA!" "It'll be MONTHS after you have the baby before you'll ever wear ME again!"

My eyes brimmed over with tears. How could my old friends tease me like this? Because that's how I think of them. They're my old friends. I miss them terribly. I look at them with longing, promising them that it won't be long before we're sharing our days together again, and now they turn on me like this! It's horrible. Such betrayal.

I think I'll burn all of them and start over. That'll teach 'em.

Need a laugh?

This post has nothing to do with my pregnancy. I received this e-mail from a friend, and it made me laugh, so I thought I'd share it with you. Enjoy!

-Guin

*******************

Dear Vincenzo,

I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won't be able to plant
my tomato garden this year. I am getting too old to be digging up a
garden plot. If you were here, my troubles would be over. I know you
would dig the garden for me.

Love, Papa



A few days later he received a letter from his son.



Dear Papa,

I'd do anything for you Papa, except dig up that garden. That's where I
buried the bodies.

Love, Vinnie



At 4 AM the next morning, the FBI and local police arrived and dug up the
entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man
and left. The same day the old man received another letter from his
son.



Dear Papa,

Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That's the best I could do under
the circumstances.

Love, Vinnie