So we went in for our 36ish week visit this past week, and at that point they check to see whether the baby is head down or not. In case it's not obvious, you really want the baby to be head down, so they come out head first. They've been checking just by feeling Sharayah's belly for the last several visits, but this was the more official check. Every time they've checked, they've said he was very obviously head down. They tried to show us, but we couldn't feel any difference. From the outside, I guess a baby head feels the same to us as a baby butt. Anyway, he was always head down, at least as far as they could tell by that method. The last time they checked before 36 weeks, it was a little harder for them to tell (usually it was instantly), but they eventually decided that, yes, he still felt like he was head down.
Now we come to the 36 week visit. At this point they have to do a more thorough check, and if he's not head down then you have to talk options. Ultimately, if he's not head down by labor time, you can't deliver at the birth center (breach is not low risk). So, first they check like they always do, by feeling Sharayah's belly. Very strangely, he seemed to be butt down. He was too wide at the bottom for it to be his head, and they thought they felt a head up. More evidence from his heartbeat, which was much easier to hear around her bellybutton. This was not good. He was supposed to be head down, and they said it was very rare for a first baby to flip after being head down. They were starting to talk options for trying to get him to flip. She thought maybe it was his shoulders down below and his head was too far down to feel from the belly, but the heartbeat seemed to be against that theory. Heartbeats are not in the butt.
Well, of course, feeling the belly isn't perfect. They still have to check the other way (you don't want to know). And, thankfully, using the more reliable way, they were 99% sure he was head down. He had just lowered enough that his shoulders were all they could feel through Sharayah's belly. I guess he's getting prepped to come meet us. Of course, the heartbeat was still odd (hence 99% instead of 100%), so they sent us for an ultrasound just in case.
We like ultrasounds. You can barely see anything and it's still just the coolest thing ever. Every tiny little glimpse of him is amazing. You spend most of the time just looking at black and white blobbiness, but there's tiny little moments where you can see he's a baby, and he's in there, and he's your baby, and oh there he was again, oh man, that was a foot, and look at his fingers! He has a nose!
Yes. So, we like those. Not to mention we got immediate, definite confirmation that he's head down, ready to go. *hoof*
From here on, it's just a waiting game. He's now officially allowed to be born, but it could be several more weeks. It's any-day-now-but-probably-not-for-a-while. So we're getting our last few ducks in a row and waiting for that awesome day.
I have made my first Dad joke:
Q: What does it sound like when a duck barks?
A: QUACK!
I'll let you know how he likes it.
Dear tiny little half-Asian kpluBlet,
We're getting more ready for your arrival all the time. We got all your clothes washed and sorted. Your socks are seriously really small. Are your feet really that little? The socks are pretty cozy so I think you'll like them. Warm feet are happy feet.
I got to see you again! It was pretty cool. You have your mom's wavy lines. I'm glad you've got your head down and bottom up. But this reminds me of a talk we need to have, and now seems to be the appropriate time. We had to talk about this eventually, but now that we know your bottom's up... In the words of Homestar Runner, "When someone says 'What's up?', don't tell them about your butt."
Love,
Dad
8.25.2014
8.18.2014
the 'shroomiest of moods
So, I think we have reached the point where it is safe to declare that Pregnancy Food Cravings is yet another thing I apparently will not be experiencing with the growing of this kpluBlet. The jokes of "...who knows? Pregnancy may make you crave bacon!" can officially be put to rest. [Not even a tiny little human can persuade me to eat a 4-legged animal. Whew!]
I still like all of the same foods I have always liked. I have not had even one abnormal food desire [mustard and sauerkraut sandwiches are "normal" pre-pregnancy cravings for me]. I consume about the same portion size as always. I suppose the only thing that may have changed is the amount of time that passes between the moment I finish one meal and the moment that I begin anticipating my next meal. Pre-pregnancy, this amount of time would fluctuate between one to three hours, with the exception of breakfast anticipations which [logically] could begin at bedtime the night before. Now, however, I find myself finishing second breakfast, digesting it for about 10 minutes, and then feeling the tendrils of excitement for elevensies nearly immediately. It's not that my stomach is immediately hungry, but my mouth/brain is. You know how it is. Luckily, with the growth of this tiny person taking up all kinds of space in my normal food storage area, I am forced to wait an appropriate amount of time before consuming my next meal just for comfort's sake. Truth: There is a finite amount of space inside of my torso.
Anyway, so yes, general desire for food has increased, but room for said food and/or strong desires for specific foods have sadly not been present. I say sadly because I was actually looking forward to experiencing the stereotypical "Husband, I don't care that it is 3 a.m. Go fetch me wasabi-flavored cheerios!" phenomenon. It sounded like fun. Sigh. I suppose I will have to settle instead for these strong feelings of food enjoyment, which is to what I attribute my constant thoughts of food: Everything just tastes delicious, so I want lots of it allthetime allthetime! It makes grocery shopping quite a task as Jason has to guide me through Costco and try to keep me from buying one of every new product. He's a talented man.
With the end of August in sight, and Fall right around the corner, and holiday season excitement just peeking above the horizon, and Food Brain on full steam ahead, naturally I have been constantly thinking about Thanksgiving and all of the tastiness that comes on that grand day. Mashed potatoes, crunchy stuffing, melty corn, green been casserole, sweet potatoes, tofu salad, wasabi-ed sushi, banana nut bread, fried rice with bean sprouts, jalapeno cornbread, lentil stew, flaky potpie... Huh, I think I accidentally got off the Thanksgiving Bus and ended up in Sharayah's Food Wonderland. My pregnant self apologizes. ANYway, Thanksgiving foods have been on the brain. And out of nowhere, I realized what was missing from my ideal Thanksgiving spread: 'Shroom Gravy Goodness.
Now, I know absolutely nothing about normal gravy. I don't know what it is. I don't know what is in it. I don't know how it is made. I don't think I could ever identify the taste. It's one of those things that actually makes me reflexively crinkle my nose when asked if I want it, even though it has never been a nose-crinkling experience whenever I have tried versions of it. At Thanksgiving, it is put into the same category as the turkey: I will probably try some, but I could take it or leave it. My mouth and stomach's happiness would not be drastically affected if it was not on the table.
But. Mushroom gravy. Now that, that, is another story. Despite not having had it for years, as soon as I realized what was missing in my life, it was all I could think about. The mouth watering could not be contained until the 'shrooms were gravy-ed. The 'shrooms had to be gravy-ed NOW.
As mentioned earlier, I had zero inklings about the gravy-ing process. This necessitated some quick skimming of interweb gravy recipes and I was set. Mushrooms were purchased, chopped, and dumped in a pot with a little butter. Onions and garlic were liberally added. Some spoons of flour were thrown in. A couple cups of broth and various dashings of herbs later, I settled down to wait. The apartment filled with the intoxicating smell of Thanksgiving Fungi Heaven. Oh.My.Gravy. I felt like a salivating dog and Jason can attest to my hopping and squeaking. It was intense.
When I get an urge to cook something in particular, it really is pure speculation whether it will come out how I envisioned it to look, smell, and taste as I have an aversion to following recipes. Squinching my eyes and just throwing a hodgepodge of things into a pot is how I prefer to cook, so I realize I'm solely to blame for the less than ideal meals that I have created. They have all, mostly, been completely edible, however, so I feel little need to change my style. I just have to deal with the possibility of being saddened by the chasm between What I Imagined and What Actually Resulted.
But. This mushroom gravy. OhGoodness. My hypercritical self couldn't find one single disappointing thing. It was absolutely delicious. The flavor was perfect; there was even a nice little kick from the cayenne and red pepper flakes that I felt compelled to add towards the end. The consistency was 100% recognizable as gravy. It was exquisite. Yes, one of my concoctions turned out exquisite. I wanted to eat it by the spoonful. I poured it over some baked red potatoes and then slipped into a coma of deliciousness.
Now I believe I will be able to make it to Thanksgiving. My palate has been appeased.
To top off the perfect cooking experience, I have some leftover gravy that I think will go ridiculously well with some ravioli or a nice bowl of rice. Yes, 18 hours later, I am still ecstatic. And I cannot stop thinking about what I will have for dinner. Spoiler: It will undoubtedly contain mushroom gravy.
I must stop typing about my gravy else it will become my afternoon snack. New topic!
Another reason I am in a particularly exhilarating mood is because.. I am officially on Vacation. Yes, vacation. I transcribed my last report this past Friday. I tipped my figurative hat in the direction of Miami, Florida, and bid farewell to the handful of doctors* whose dictations have made the past few years rather enjoyable work-wise. I shut down my Firefox browser [whilst better than IE, it was still annoying to have to use Firefox for work everyday since my work program didn't support Chrome] for the last time. I closed out my drug reference program and exited the little timer in the bottom left corner of my screen. No longer is my task bar filled with a dozen open applications. It looks a tad lonely with just Chrome and Skype open, but my insides are rejoicing. Vacation has begun.
Yes, I already hear it in my head. The well-meaning laugh and the inevitable remark of "Just wait until the baby comes. I don't think 'vacation' is how you'll describe those first few <period of time>." And, in my head, my response is to chuckle knowingly and remark, "Oh, yes, it is. Trust me."
I'll be honest. I don't really care for the "Just wait until...!" comments. You know the ones. The ones that are given with the good intentions to spare new parents from being surprised by all of the not-so-positive or not-so-happy things that occur when you have kids. The ones that are made to make sure you realize that having a baby may not be as rosy and perfect as you seem to think it will be. It is done out of kindness, I am sure, but I still don't care for them. [I am aware that I am sometimes guilty of doing this kind of comment (about various other topics, not babies/parenting), and I feel this is sometimes why they tend to irk me more than they possibly should. It is a trait I am working to fix.] It may sound rather offensive, but I let 99% of the "Just wait until...!" statements just float in one ear and out the other.
Do I have an unbelievably positive and giddy and perfect view of how life with a kpluBlet will be? Most definitely. Do I have an unquenchable excitement about the plans galore that are in store for this little person? Oh, indubitably. Do I think life will be filled with balloons and exclamation points and bright green pogo sticks? YES.
But I am also 100% cognizant of the flip side of parenthood. Will annoying things come up? Sure. Will many of my plans get derailed? Most likely. Will there be inconveniences and frustrations and sleepless nights and molehills of both founded and unfounded worries? I know better than to assume otherwise. But does this have any kind of meaningful effect on all of the positive, awe-inspiring, squeal-inducing aspects of parenthood? For me, every single negative thing that can be conjured up in a "Just wait until...!" statement doesn't affect even an iota of my outlook on the adventure that is ahead of us, an outlook that I firmly believe is completely realistic and practical.
There are going to be ups and downs, but how is that different from any other part of life? There are going to be feelings of utter elation and utter exhaustion, but who says they have to negate each other? Mistakes will be made, but who cares? In the big picture of things, life will continue to progress as life has always progressed. But instead of my world consisting of two people, there will now be three. It will just make things that much merrier and that much more fulfilling. I'm not expecting an easier life when the kpluBlet comes along, just an even more joy-filled one. When I declare how perfect life will be once the kpluBlet arrives, I 100% believe it. However, my definition of Life Perfecto realistically includes the exhaustion, the frustrations, the mistakes, the inconveniences, and every single one of the poopy messes. I am looking forward to every minute of it. I really am.
So yes, back to the commencement of Vacation. With my last day of work in the books, I am in full-time vacation mode. It is such an incredible feeling to know that vacation will last for the indefinite future. I get to use all of my time in dreaming about and then, in a month or so, living out my life ambition. Yep, being a mom is sure to require some work, but it will be "work" with a purpose. Vacation doesn't have to mean napping all day. Can a vacation consist of climbing a mountain in harsh weather? Can it consist of setting up tents and foraging for food? Can it consist of a grueling task that you have dreamed of conquering your entire life? It can. And mine does. My much anticipated indefinite vacation from work consists of pushing a person into the world and then making his life as joy-filled as possible, even in the midst of cleaning up his poop and him subsequently spitting up on me and not letting me sleep as thanks. It's going to be so much fun. Seriously. I love vacation.
To celebrate the beginning of vacation, we went to Longwood and explored their new meadow area. It was lovely. They've added a couple miles worth of trails through the meadow and it is such a peaceful place to be. It was a gorgeous day and we had a lovely time.
So, that's that. Happiness and 'shrooms all around.
*You probably don't know who you are, but surely you must suspect. Because you are excellent dictators and have saved my work week dozens of times with your timely influx of dictations during my shifts. You deserve fireworks and cakes in your honor.
I still like all of the same foods I have always liked. I have not had even one abnormal food desire [mustard and sauerkraut sandwiches are "normal" pre-pregnancy cravings for me]. I consume about the same portion size as always. I suppose the only thing that may have changed is the amount of time that passes between the moment I finish one meal and the moment that I begin anticipating my next meal. Pre-pregnancy, this amount of time would fluctuate between one to three hours, with the exception of breakfast anticipations which [logically] could begin at bedtime the night before. Now, however, I find myself finishing second breakfast, digesting it for about 10 minutes, and then feeling the tendrils of excitement for elevensies nearly immediately. It's not that my stomach is immediately hungry, but my mouth/brain is. You know how it is. Luckily, with the growth of this tiny person taking up all kinds of space in my normal food storage area, I am forced to wait an appropriate amount of time before consuming my next meal just for comfort's sake. Truth: There is a finite amount of space inside of my torso.
Anyway, so yes, general desire for food has increased, but room for said food and/or strong desires for specific foods have sadly not been present. I say sadly because I was actually looking forward to experiencing the stereotypical "Husband, I don't care that it is 3 a.m. Go fetch me wasabi-flavored cheerios!" phenomenon. It sounded like fun. Sigh. I suppose I will have to settle instead for these strong feelings of food enjoyment, which is to what I attribute my constant thoughts of food: Everything just tastes delicious, so I want lots of it allthetime allthetime! It makes grocery shopping quite a task as Jason has to guide me through Costco and try to keep me from buying one of every new product. He's a talented man.
With the end of August in sight, and Fall right around the corner, and holiday season excitement just peeking above the horizon, and Food Brain on full steam ahead, naturally I have been constantly thinking about Thanksgiving and all of the tastiness that comes on that grand day. Mashed potatoes, crunchy stuffing, melty corn, green been casserole, sweet potatoes, tofu salad, wasabi-ed sushi, banana nut bread, fried rice with bean sprouts, jalapeno cornbread, lentil stew, flaky potpie... Huh, I think I accidentally got off the Thanksgiving Bus and ended up in Sharayah's Food Wonderland. My pregnant self apologizes. ANYway, Thanksgiving foods have been on the brain. And out of nowhere, I realized what was missing from my ideal Thanksgiving spread: 'Shroom Gravy Goodness.
Now, I know absolutely nothing about normal gravy. I don't know what it is. I don't know what is in it. I don't know how it is made. I don't think I could ever identify the taste. It's one of those things that actually makes me reflexively crinkle my nose when asked if I want it, even though it has never been a nose-crinkling experience whenever I have tried versions of it. At Thanksgiving, it is put into the same category as the turkey: I will probably try some, but I could take it or leave it. My mouth and stomach's happiness would not be drastically affected if it was not on the table.
But. Mushroom gravy. Now that, that, is another story. Despite not having had it for years, as soon as I realized what was missing in my life, it was all I could think about. The mouth watering could not be contained until the 'shrooms were gravy-ed. The 'shrooms had to be gravy-ed NOW.
As mentioned earlier, I had zero inklings about the gravy-ing process. This necessitated some quick skimming of interweb gravy recipes and I was set. Mushrooms were purchased, chopped, and dumped in a pot with a little butter. Onions and garlic were liberally added. Some spoons of flour were thrown in. A couple cups of broth and various dashings of herbs later, I settled down to wait. The apartment filled with the intoxicating smell of Thanksgiving Fungi Heaven. Oh.My.Gravy. I felt like a salivating dog and Jason can attest to my hopping and squeaking. It was intense.
When I get an urge to cook something in particular, it really is pure speculation whether it will come out how I envisioned it to look, smell, and taste as I have an aversion to following recipes. Squinching my eyes and just throwing a hodgepodge of things into a pot is how I prefer to cook, so I realize I'm solely to blame for the less than ideal meals that I have created. They have all, mostly, been completely edible, however, so I feel little need to change my style. I just have to deal with the possibility of being saddened by the chasm between What I Imagined and What Actually Resulted.
But. This mushroom gravy. OhGoodness. My hypercritical self couldn't find one single disappointing thing. It was absolutely delicious. The flavor was perfect; there was even a nice little kick from the cayenne and red pepper flakes that I felt compelled to add towards the end. The consistency was 100% recognizable as gravy. It was exquisite. Yes, one of my concoctions turned out exquisite. I wanted to eat it by the spoonful. I poured it over some baked red potatoes and then slipped into a coma of deliciousness.
Now I believe I will be able to make it to Thanksgiving. My palate has been appeased.
To top off the perfect cooking experience, I have some leftover gravy that I think will go ridiculously well with some ravioli or a nice bowl of rice. Yes, 18 hours later, I am still ecstatic. And I cannot stop thinking about what I will have for dinner. Spoiler: It will undoubtedly contain mushroom gravy.
I must stop typing about my gravy else it will become my afternoon snack. New topic!
Another reason I am in a particularly exhilarating mood is because.. I am officially on Vacation. Yes, vacation. I transcribed my last report this past Friday. I tipped my figurative hat in the direction of Miami, Florida, and bid farewell to the handful of doctors* whose dictations have made the past few years rather enjoyable work-wise. I shut down my Firefox browser [whilst better than IE, it was still annoying to have to use Firefox for work everyday since my work program didn't support Chrome] for the last time. I closed out my drug reference program and exited the little timer in the bottom left corner of my screen. No longer is my task bar filled with a dozen open applications. It looks a tad lonely with just Chrome and Skype open, but my insides are rejoicing. Vacation has begun.
Yes, I already hear it in my head. The well-meaning laugh and the inevitable remark of "Just wait until the baby comes. I don't think 'vacation' is how you'll describe those first few <period of time>." And, in my head, my response is to chuckle knowingly and remark, "Oh, yes, it is. Trust me."
I'll be honest. I don't really care for the "Just wait until...!" comments. You know the ones. The ones that are given with the good intentions to spare new parents from being surprised by all of the not-so-positive or not-so-happy things that occur when you have kids. The ones that are made to make sure you realize that having a baby may not be as rosy and perfect as you seem to think it will be. It is done out of kindness, I am sure, but I still don't care for them. [I am aware that I am sometimes guilty of doing this kind of comment (about various other topics, not babies/parenting), and I feel this is sometimes why they tend to irk me more than they possibly should. It is a trait I am working to fix.] It may sound rather offensive, but I let 99% of the "Just wait until...!" statements just float in one ear and out the other.
Do I have an unbelievably positive and giddy and perfect view of how life with a kpluBlet will be? Most definitely. Do I have an unquenchable excitement about the plans galore that are in store for this little person? Oh, indubitably. Do I think life will be filled with balloons and exclamation points and bright green pogo sticks? YES.
But I am also 100% cognizant of the flip side of parenthood. Will annoying things come up? Sure. Will many of my plans get derailed? Most likely. Will there be inconveniences and frustrations and sleepless nights and molehills of both founded and unfounded worries? I know better than to assume otherwise. But does this have any kind of meaningful effect on all of the positive, awe-inspiring, squeal-inducing aspects of parenthood? For me, every single negative thing that can be conjured up in a "Just wait until...!" statement doesn't affect even an iota of my outlook on the adventure that is ahead of us, an outlook that I firmly believe is completely realistic and practical.
There are going to be ups and downs, but how is that different from any other part of life? There are going to be feelings of utter elation and utter exhaustion, but who says they have to negate each other? Mistakes will be made, but who cares? In the big picture of things, life will continue to progress as life has always progressed. But instead of my world consisting of two people, there will now be three. It will just make things that much merrier and that much more fulfilling. I'm not expecting an easier life when the kpluBlet comes along, just an even more joy-filled one. When I declare how perfect life will be once the kpluBlet arrives, I 100% believe it. However, my definition of Life Perfecto realistically includes the exhaustion, the frustrations, the mistakes, the inconveniences, and every single one of the poopy messes. I am looking forward to every minute of it. I really am.
So yes, back to the commencement of Vacation. With my last day of work in the books, I am in full-time vacation mode. It is such an incredible feeling to know that vacation will last for the indefinite future. I get to use all of my time in dreaming about and then, in a month or so, living out my life ambition. Yep, being a mom is sure to require some work, but it will be "work" with a purpose. Vacation doesn't have to mean napping all day. Can a vacation consist of climbing a mountain in harsh weather? Can it consist of setting up tents and foraging for food? Can it consist of a grueling task that you have dreamed of conquering your entire life? It can. And mine does. My much anticipated indefinite vacation from work consists of pushing a person into the world and then making his life as joy-filled as possible, even in the midst of cleaning up his poop and him subsequently spitting up on me and not letting me sleep as thanks. It's going to be so much fun. Seriously. I love vacation.
To celebrate the beginning of vacation, we went to Longwood and explored their new meadow area. It was lovely. They've added a couple miles worth of trails through the meadow and it is such a peaceful place to be. It was a gorgeous day and we had a lovely time.
So, that's that. Happiness and 'shrooms all around.
*You probably don't know who you are, but surely you must suspect. Because you are excellent dictators and have saved my work week dozens of times with your timely influx of dictations during my shifts. You deserve fireworks and cakes in your honor.
8.06.2014
the great pumpkin
You may remember that last fall we went to a pumpkin patch and got ourselves a couple pumpkins. What we didn't tell you was that these were not just any pumpkins.
They were... *dun dun duuuuun*
Magic pumpkins.
But I've gotten ahead of myself. So, last year we bought a couple pumpkins. There was a little one, and a medium one. We figured the medium one would be some kind of decoration, and the little one could be used in some sort of pie, or bread, or maybe also just as decoration if we never got around to cooking anything with it. Well, that's what happened. We didn't make anything, but they were nice to have in the apartment - made the place look all autumny. That's autumn-like. It's not a word, I just added a "y" to the end of autumn. We just wanted them to make our place look more festive.
So there we were, with a couple of regular pumpkins. Right? Well, it seemed like that for a long time. A long enough time that it started to seem like maybe they weren't regular pumpkins. Eventually the little one got a bit droopy, and we sent it on to the next stage of pumpkin life. That is, we put it outside under a tree. It stayed there for a long time too, but eventually the weather took it. But the medium pumpkin... That pumpkin never aged a day. A couple days ago we took a picture of the pumpkin:
It's kind of unreal how much it still looks like it did last year. The picture through the link above (or here, if you can't be bothered to scroll up) is the same pumpkin last September. Somehow this dude has survived almost a year. This led us to conclude that perhaps the medium pumpkin was, as I said before, magic.
But, of course, there are no magic pumpkins. And if you look at the back of that pumpkin (just print the picture and turn it over?) you'll see that, even though it lasted far longer than it should have (I read a pumpkin is supposed to last 8-12 weeks if it was healthy), it does look a little funny on the back. Not necessarily rotten, but funny. Maybe a little soft to the touch. So, after nearly a year of sitting up there, we sent the medium pumpkin on to the great beyond. That is to say, we put it under that tree to let nature do the rest. It's only a matter of time.
Speaking of pumpkins, the little-guy-on-the-way is currently between our two pumpkins in size. Hopefully closer to the little pumpkin. That's called a segue. Now we're talking about the baby instead of pumpkins. So.
Dear tiny little half-Asian kpluBlet,
When we got that pumpkin, you were so small we were still imagining you. Now you're so big you're almost ready to come out and see us! This year, we'll take you with us and find another magic pumpkin. We'll even let you pick it out. I'll just hold you over the candidates, and you drool on the one you want. Deal? Deal.
We're fast coming up on your arrival. It's all we can do to wait patiently to meet you. Then we can see your reactions to all the books we're reading you. Did you like New Cat? I don't really know. You wiggled, but you wiggle a lot. Speaking of which, your mom would really like it if you let her bladder go more than 5 minutes without being squished. Just a request.
Most important, just keep growing strong and healthy. We'll see you soon!
Love,
Dad
They were... *dun dun duuuuun*
Magic pumpkins.
But I've gotten ahead of myself. So, last year we bought a couple pumpkins. There was a little one, and a medium one. We figured the medium one would be some kind of decoration, and the little one could be used in some sort of pie, or bread, or maybe also just as decoration if we never got around to cooking anything with it. Well, that's what happened. We didn't make anything, but they were nice to have in the apartment - made the place look all autumny. That's autumn-like. It's not a word, I just added a "y" to the end of autumn. We just wanted them to make our place look more festive.
So there we were, with a couple of regular pumpkins. Right? Well, it seemed like that for a long time. A long enough time that it started to seem like maybe they weren't regular pumpkins. Eventually the little one got a bit droopy, and we sent it on to the next stage of pumpkin life. That is, we put it outside under a tree. It stayed there for a long time too, but eventually the weather took it. But the medium pumpkin... That pumpkin never aged a day. A couple days ago we took a picture of the pumpkin:
It's kind of unreal how much it still looks like it did last year. The picture through the link above (or here, if you can't be bothered to scroll up) is the same pumpkin last September. Somehow this dude has survived almost a year. This led us to conclude that perhaps the medium pumpkin was, as I said before, magic.
But, of course, there are no magic pumpkins. And if you look at the back of that pumpkin (just print the picture and turn it over?) you'll see that, even though it lasted far longer than it should have (I read a pumpkin is supposed to last 8-12 weeks if it was healthy), it does look a little funny on the back. Not necessarily rotten, but funny. Maybe a little soft to the touch. So, after nearly a year of sitting up there, we sent the medium pumpkin on to the great beyond. That is to say, we put it under that tree to let nature do the rest. It's only a matter of time.
Speaking of pumpkins, the little-guy-on-the-way is currently between our two pumpkins in size. Hopefully closer to the little pumpkin. That's called a segue. Now we're talking about the baby instead of pumpkins. So.
Dear tiny little half-Asian kpluBlet,
When we got that pumpkin, you were so small we were still imagining you. Now you're so big you're almost ready to come out and see us! This year, we'll take you with us and find another magic pumpkin. We'll even let you pick it out. I'll just hold you over the candidates, and you drool on the one you want. Deal? Deal.
We're fast coming up on your arrival. It's all we can do to wait patiently to meet you. Then we can see your reactions to all the books we're reading you. Did you like New Cat? I don't really know. You wiggled, but you wiggle a lot. Speaking of which, your mom would really like it if you let her bladder go more than 5 minutes without being squished. Just a request.
Most important, just keep growing strong and healthy. We'll see you soon!
Love,
Dad
7.22.2014
all things small and tiny
I felt the desire to start off this post with an apology for the All Things Baby tidbits I'm about to jot down [and will undoubtedly continue to write about for weeks/months/years to come], but then I thought about it and decided that was silly and purposeless. I like to write about the Interesting Things of Now, and the kpluBlet is most definitely the most interesting thing going on in my life right now [spoiler: he (and his posse of siblings) will probably be the most interesting thing going on in my life for the next 20 years so... just a heads up]. So unashamedly, obsessively write about him I shall.
We have reached week 32. Ridiculous, I know. Sometimes I feel like I just found out about being pregnant. Seriously, it was just last month that we drove up to Connecticut, right? I still clearly remember the giddy feelings in my gut as I walked/hopped in circles in our hotel room wondering, oh wondering, if maybe just maybe just maybe there was a tiny little poppy-seed-size person inside of me. And now look at me. On Sundays, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I feel like a whale, whilst on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays I am convinced that I am somehow growing an actual whale inside of me. The time has flown and I can't believe how close we are!
It's a weird state of time, being 32 weeks. My head tells me that I have a good 8 weeks left or 2 months, because that's just simple math. Yet, somehow, this doesn't add up nicely as it is now the end of July and so there is only August between now and kpluBlet. And that is only ONE month. One ridiculously short month. What in the world. No, I promise I'm not freaking out. Yes, I did have a moment of mild <some type of tear-filled emotion> the other week as my brain was attempting to sort out a mess of things, but I shall use the Pregnancy Hormones card [fine print: one use only] to excuse that as I really didn't feel like the tears were connected to my emotions, if that makes sense.
Side note: I periodically check with Jason to see if I have been unknowingly experiencing the high-strung mood swings that I hear pregnancy can pleasantly bring about. Thankfully, he always says no. Whew. I also don't feel like I've had any kind of change in moods the last 32 weeks [crazy intense blood-draw emotions don't count as they are also my baseline emotions], so I'm glad my perceptions line up with Jason's. It would be annoying to be That Crazy Pregnant Asian and not realize it. Stable hormones for the win.
So, our little nursery is coming together and I absolutely love it. I peek my head in multiple times a day just to gleefully squeak. I also like to just sit in there. I can't wait until we finish it. We're still waiting on a few more of our purchases to come in and then the fun will begin. Oh! By the way, it is like Christmas in July here right now. Every day I excitedly wait for a new package to arrive. I love, love, love packages. And it turns out that tearing open a box is even better when you know something tiny and adorable is inside.
There was a point earlier in the year when we looked at our rather substantial Amazon gift card balance and wondered, "How in the world are we ever going to spend all of this? Maybe we should be using our Swagbucks points for Paypal cash instead of Amazon gift cards." [Here is my "Swagbucks is awesome" plug.] Oh, silly us... As soon as we begin our baby shopping in earnest, we had absolutely no trouble bringing that balance down to a very sad $0. Sigh. Now, the re-accumulation of funds must begin anew.
But! On the bright side, we are currently expecting a large box of Super Exciting Things for the kpluBlet. And... Weirdest timing ever: The box just arrived. Like, this very minute. I must go celebrate another round of Christmas in July.
Much tearing of tape and squeaks of delight later...
Ah, the excitement! The colors! The cuteness! The diapers! Yes, yes, yes, I am unbelievably excited about these tiny adorable cloth diapers. It's a little ridiculous.
And this really is a perfect segue into my next topic: Diaper decisions. What with all of the cloth diaper options out there these days, it has been quite a task nailing down exactly what to purchase for our little fellow's bum. We knew we wanted cheap, durable, and "easy" to launder. Flats/prefolds and covers seemed to be the most recommended for what we wanted. The only "downside" that seemed to be mentioned by some was that the folding involved with flats and the like might take some time to figure out, might take longer to actually execute, might be more annoying to do when you've changed a dozen diapers that day already, etc. Luckily, I do not consider any of these issues to be daunting and I have a Superman of a husband who is under the impression [accurately or not] that all of my plans and ideas are the awesomest of plans and ideas. So! May the Diaper Origami Time commence! I have full expectations that cloth diapering is going to be a wagonful of messy but accomplishment-filled fun*.
And seriously, the diaper covers are absolutely adorable. I cannot get over it. The kpluBlet will have an adorably covered tush. End of story.
Slightly switching topics [though, do not fear, I am going to be shifting back to World of Baby in a moment], 2014 continues to be the Year of Big Things with the exciting news of Jarred's engagement and his November wedding [and the kpluBlet's first roadtrip!]. I'm rather stoked. I always knew he was the kind of fellow who would make excellent husband material and I'm super happy he finally found a girl who sees his potential. Cheers for happiness!
Anyway, Jarred's weddingness along with Shawn's wedding this fall made made me think of bachelor parties. Which made me think of Childless Married Couple parties! It's brilliant. I don't know why this isn't a real thing. See, the night before your baby arrives [oh wait, I see problem number one...], you get together all of your childless married couple friends [oh wait, I see problem number two...] and go out and party it up with every single We Won't Be Able to Do This Once the Baby's Here! activity you can fit into a night that a 9-month pregnant lady is able/willing to do [oh... and there's problem number 3]. The idea has such promise, no?
And to wrap up this entire rambling post, I feel it necessary to note this following conversation that occurred a while back:
Me: "The kpluBlet sure is growing."
Jason: "I hope he doesn't grow too much before he comes out. I don't want to miss him being in that small and cute stage."
Me: "Don't worry. I think human babies are like hamster babies. They come out like tiny erasers and eventually grow into the cute stage."
Life truth: It takes a while to go from this...
...to this.. 
I may not know much about human babies [I can only remember "holding" one once in my life. And there is a reason the word holding is in quotes...] but I know plenty about hamster babies. They always start off like the erasers on the end of a yellow #2 pencil. And they bounce. Like mexican jumping beans.
I like how I can write an entire post about a whole lot of nothing. Tis excellent. To life!
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
I feel you constantly now. You are quite a wiggler these days. Sometimes I think you know exactly when to most inconveniently make a ruckus in there. I don't know how you do it, but kudos to you, little mister. Mostly, thanks for making me 100% confident that everything is going well on your end of things.
I hope your thrice daily bout of hiccups aren't bothering you too much. I'll be honest, if I had hiccups that often and that regularly, I might just go crazy, but perhaps you're more patient than I am. Maybe you got blessed with your dad's patience and my head hair density. And speaking of head hair, I sure hope you're concentrating hard on growing out your peach fuzz to an adorable mop of hair. It will place you at a huge advantage over newborn hamsters, trust me.
Welp, little one, keep growing stronger. You're going to need all the strength you can get to survive the love that your dad and I are going to smoosh you with. As you'll soon find out, we don't have many hobbies and our social lives are comfortably lacking, so you are basically going to be the center of all of our attention. Prepare yourself. Every little thing you do is going to be considered Guinness World Record material and every little face you make is going to be picture worthy and every little breath you take is going to be gasped at in wonder. We are going to love the noodles out of you. And adorn your bum with tiny owl diapers.
You have my forever love.
*And if it does not pan out to be as much fun and as little hassle as I know it will be, I will have this blog post to look back upon and laugh at. :D
We have reached week 32. Ridiculous, I know. Sometimes I feel like I just found out about being pregnant. Seriously, it was just last month that we drove up to Connecticut, right? I still clearly remember the giddy feelings in my gut as I walked/hopped in circles in our hotel room wondering, oh wondering, if maybe just maybe just maybe there was a tiny little poppy-seed-size person inside of me. And now look at me. On Sundays, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I feel like a whale, whilst on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays I am convinced that I am somehow growing an actual whale inside of me. The time has flown and I can't believe how close we are!
It's a weird state of time, being 32 weeks. My head tells me that I have a good 8 weeks left or 2 months, because that's just simple math. Yet, somehow, this doesn't add up nicely as it is now the end of July and so there is only August between now and kpluBlet. And that is only ONE month. One ridiculously short month. What in the world. No, I promise I'm not freaking out. Yes, I did have a moment of mild <some type of tear-filled emotion> the other week as my brain was attempting to sort out a mess of things, but I shall use the Pregnancy Hormones card [fine print: one use only] to excuse that as I really didn't feel like the tears were connected to my emotions, if that makes sense.
Side note: I periodically check with Jason to see if I have been unknowingly experiencing the high-strung mood swings that I hear pregnancy can pleasantly bring about. Thankfully, he always says no. Whew. I also don't feel like I've had any kind of change in moods the last 32 weeks [crazy intense blood-draw emotions don't count as they are also my baseline emotions], so I'm glad my perceptions line up with Jason's. It would be annoying to be That Crazy Pregnant Asian and not realize it. Stable hormones for the win.
So, our little nursery is coming together and I absolutely love it. I peek my head in multiple times a day just to gleefully squeak. I also like to just sit in there. I can't wait until we finish it. We're still waiting on a few more of our purchases to come in and then the fun will begin. Oh! By the way, it is like Christmas in July here right now. Every day I excitedly wait for a new package to arrive. I love, love, love packages. And it turns out that tearing open a box is even better when you know something tiny and adorable is inside.
There was a point earlier in the year when we looked at our rather substantial Amazon gift card balance and wondered, "How in the world are we ever going to spend all of this? Maybe we should be using our Swagbucks points for Paypal cash instead of Amazon gift cards." [Here is my "Swagbucks is awesome" plug.] Oh, silly us... As soon as we begin our baby shopping in earnest, we had absolutely no trouble bringing that balance down to a very sad $0. Sigh. Now, the re-accumulation of funds must begin anew.
But! On the bright side, we are currently expecting a large box of Super Exciting Things for the kpluBlet. And... Weirdest timing ever: The box just arrived. Like, this very minute. I must go celebrate another round of Christmas in July.
Much tearing of tape and squeaks of delight later...
Ah, the excitement! The colors! The cuteness! The diapers! Yes, yes, yes, I am unbelievably excited about these tiny adorable cloth diapers. It's a little ridiculous.
And this really is a perfect segue into my next topic: Diaper decisions. What with all of the cloth diaper options out there these days, it has been quite a task nailing down exactly what to purchase for our little fellow's bum. We knew we wanted cheap, durable, and "easy" to launder. Flats/prefolds and covers seemed to be the most recommended for what we wanted. The only "downside" that seemed to be mentioned by some was that the folding involved with flats and the like might take some time to figure out, might take longer to actually execute, might be more annoying to do when you've changed a dozen diapers that day already, etc. Luckily, I do not consider any of these issues to be daunting and I have a Superman of a husband who is under the impression [accurately or not] that all of my plans and ideas are the awesomest of plans and ideas. So! May the Diaper Origami Time commence! I have full expectations that cloth diapering is going to be a wagonful of messy but accomplishment-filled fun*.
And seriously, the diaper covers are absolutely adorable. I cannot get over it. The kpluBlet will have an adorably covered tush. End of story.
Slightly switching topics [though, do not fear, I am going to be shifting back to World of Baby in a moment], 2014 continues to be the Year of Big Things with the exciting news of Jarred's engagement and his November wedding [and the kpluBlet's first roadtrip!]. I'm rather stoked. I always knew he was the kind of fellow who would make excellent husband material and I'm super happy he finally found a girl who sees his potential. Cheers for happiness!
Anyway, Jarred's weddingness along with Shawn's wedding this fall made made me think of bachelor parties. Which made me think of Childless Married Couple parties! It's brilliant. I don't know why this isn't a real thing. See, the night before your baby arrives [oh wait, I see problem number one...], you get together all of your childless married couple friends [oh wait, I see problem number two...] and go out and party it up with every single We Won't Be Able to Do This Once the Baby's Here! activity you can fit into a night that a 9-month pregnant lady is able/willing to do [oh... and there's problem number 3]. The idea has such promise, no?
And to wrap up this entire rambling post, I feel it necessary to note this following conversation that occurred a while back:
Me: "The kpluBlet sure is growing."
Jason: "I hope he doesn't grow too much before he comes out. I don't want to miss him being in that small and cute stage."
Me: "Don't worry. I think human babies are like hamster babies. They come out like tiny erasers and eventually grow into the cute stage."
Life truth: It takes a while to go from this...
...to this.. I may not know much about human babies [I can only remember "holding" one once in my life. And there is a reason the word holding is in quotes...] but I know plenty about hamster babies. They always start off like the erasers on the end of a yellow #2 pencil. And they bounce. Like mexican jumping beans.
I like how I can write an entire post about a whole lot of nothing. Tis excellent. To life!
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
I feel you constantly now. You are quite a wiggler these days. Sometimes I think you know exactly when to most inconveniently make a ruckus in there. I don't know how you do it, but kudos to you, little mister. Mostly, thanks for making me 100% confident that everything is going well on your end of things.
I hope your thrice daily bout of hiccups aren't bothering you too much. I'll be honest, if I had hiccups that often and that regularly, I might just go crazy, but perhaps you're more patient than I am. Maybe you got blessed with your dad's patience and my head hair density. And speaking of head hair, I sure hope you're concentrating hard on growing out your peach fuzz to an adorable mop of hair. It will place you at a huge advantage over newborn hamsters, trust me.
Welp, little one, keep growing stronger. You're going to need all the strength you can get to survive the love that your dad and I are going to smoosh you with. As you'll soon find out, we don't have many hobbies and our social lives are comfortably lacking, so you are basically going to be the center of all of our attention. Prepare yourself. Every little thing you do is going to be considered Guinness World Record material and every little face you make is going to be picture worthy and every little breath you take is going to be gasped at in wonder. We are going to love the noodles out of you. And adorn your bum with tiny owl diapers.
You have my forever love.
 |
| Replace "Cheez-It" with "Tiny Human" and you have a very accurate picture of how I feel at Week 32. |
*And if it does not pan out to be as much fun and as little hassle as I know it will be, I will have this blog post to look back upon and laugh at. :D
7.16.2014
progression
While Sharayah was helping me think up topics to write about, of course one of the things that came up was the short time until I'll be a father and the things we're doing in the next couple months to prepare. Then, for some reason, this exchange happened:
Sharayah: I give you permission for your first words to him to be "I am your father."
Me: But I think he says that after having just cut off his hand...
Sharayah: Well, just say it after you cut his umbilical cord.
I don't really know what to do with that, but it seemed like the world should know.
Editor's note: I didn't ask for permission to say that. Neither of us are Star Wars fans. I'm not sure why she even came up with that. Spoiler alert: I probably won't say it.
Back to the topic of preparing for the baby. We've been trying to make sure we get everything we're going to need. Sometimes it's hard to know if you have everything. We've made lists and tried to keep track, but of course we'll get home with the baby and think, "How in the world do we not have X? It's so obvious we should have bought that. What were we thinking?" It's inevitable. But still, it seems like we've got most everything covered. Things purchased online are going to start coming in during the next few weeks, which should be exciting. The baby's room is pretty much done. Things are coming together nicely.
Things have also been moving along with my research. By the end of summer I'll probably have submitted two more papers, bringing the total to three. I've been working on two different problems with two groups of people, and it's been hectic at times but also kind of nice. When I get stuck on one problem, I just go to the other for a while. I'm really proud of these two much more than the first one. I think I was a much more important part of the work on them, as opposed to the first paper, which I think would have gotten written just fine without me.
Now I'm in the home stretch of my quest for a PhD. At this point, I have enough research done to finish. From here, it's just a matter of how much research I can do before I have to call it and start putting it together as a dissertation. It's been a long, very difficult road, but the end is in sight. Just in time, too, since apparently I'm almost a dad.
Sharayah: I give you permission for your first words to him to be "I am your father."
Me: But I think he says that after having just cut off his hand...
Sharayah: Well, just say it after you cut his umbilical cord.
I don't really know what to do with that, but it seemed like the world should know.
Editor's note: I didn't ask for permission to say that. Neither of us are Star Wars fans. I'm not sure why she even came up with that. Spoiler alert: I probably won't say it.
Back to the topic of preparing for the baby. We've been trying to make sure we get everything we're going to need. Sometimes it's hard to know if you have everything. We've made lists and tried to keep track, but of course we'll get home with the baby and think, "How in the world do we not have X? It's so obvious we should have bought that. What were we thinking?" It's inevitable. But still, it seems like we've got most everything covered. Things purchased online are going to start coming in during the next few weeks, which should be exciting. The baby's room is pretty much done. Things are coming together nicely.
Things have also been moving along with my research. By the end of summer I'll probably have submitted two more papers, bringing the total to three. I've been working on two different problems with two groups of people, and it's been hectic at times but also kind of nice. When I get stuck on one problem, I just go to the other for a while. I'm really proud of these two much more than the first one. I think I was a much more important part of the work on them, as opposed to the first paper, which I think would have gotten written just fine without me.
Now I'm in the home stretch of my quest for a PhD. At this point, I have enough research done to finish. From here, it's just a matter of how much research I can do before I have to call it and start putting it together as a dissertation. It's been a long, very difficult road, but the end is in sight. Just in time, too, since apparently I'm almost a dad.
6.29.2014
the big nutshell
June has not been much of a blogging month. I'm not entirely sure how the month is almost over already... To make up for the lack of words that I have written this month, this post will undoubtedly be a long one. Feel free to eat it in two bites instead of one.
Life: Part I
For various reasons, Jason and I have decided to get rid of one of our cellphones and just use our Google Voice numbers as our secondary numbers. I rarely leave the house without Jason [this may sound lame to more independent folks, but trust me, it's actually just pure awesome], and when we do go somewhere, we just grab whatever phone is closest to the door, so it's not like we currently need two phones or are attached to having individual phones. We could have done this months upon months ago but just never thought about it. Thinking about things is revolutionary, I tell you.
I remember when my family first got a cellphone back in the day [yes, I can say back in the day because it was over a decade ago]. We were living perfectly comfortable lives. Yet, suddenly, with the arrival of this little handheld device, it was a tragedy if we didn't have the phone with us when we were out and about. I don't know why. It didn't make sense. Suddenly, potentially life-threatening emergencies were everywhere and only having that little gray phone could hold them off! Humans are funny like that, I suppose.
This little toy with all 5 of its contacts and the ability to use voice commands to mistakenly dial the wrong person was new and neat and somehow endlessly entertaining. And it quickly went from Nonexistent to Unquestionably Essential. But sometimes, even then, I would think about how, just a mere month ago, we had somehow managed to survive without it, so why all the fuss if suddenly the phone wasn't available? Ah, the subliminal tentacles of Convenience Turned Necessity. Crafty creature, that is.
Anyway, I often still have the same thoughts about cellphones. Yes, they are convenient. But no, they are not necessary for many people. I believe I currently fit in the realistically-not-necessary category of people. Which is good, because if I did feel compelled to always have a cellphone with me, I might have to start using some kind of purse/bag/trendy cellphone belt clip/large-pocketed man pants. Whew, bullet dodged. Instead of my own man pants, I shall continue to use Jason's man pants to hold all of my things, and our one cellphone.
Anyway. In order to properly retire my lonely cellphone, I had to empty it of all the random stuff that had accumulated on it. Various pictures of ears and price tags and men's legs and shopping lists and finger comparisons all needed to be transferred to my computer. And then there were the notes.
Now, Jason is a decently funny fellow to the general public, in my opinion. But to me, he is hilarious. [I may have a really low standard for humor or I may just have a bad case of I Like Your Face So You Are Basically a Stand-up Comedian.] He says things and I can't help but laugh. Sometimes my brain tells me that the world would also like to benefit from something he said that was particularly entertaining. And so, when he says one of these things, I jot them down in my phone, if it is available [this, of course, means that 72% of his funniness is lost forever], and post them on Facebook afterwards if I remember.
Sadly, I often do not remember. And then, if I do happen to remember, I will have forgotten the context to the remark or conversation. And then I have to decide if it is still worth posting. It's a process, people!
Anyway, I apparently collected a few handfuls of these types of notes on my phone. I considered deleting them, but that really seemed like a shame. So instead, I will type them out here in our blog and they will be duly head-scratched/chuckled at for generations to come. Let us begin.
Life: Part I
For various reasons, Jason and I have decided to get rid of one of our cellphones and just use our Google Voice numbers as our secondary numbers. I rarely leave the house without Jason [this may sound lame to more independent folks, but trust me, it's actually just pure awesome], and when we do go somewhere, we just grab whatever phone is closest to the door, so it's not like we currently need two phones or are attached to having individual phones. We could have done this months upon months ago but just never thought about it. Thinking about things is revolutionary, I tell you.
I remember when my family first got a cellphone back in the day [yes, I can say back in the day because it was over a decade ago]. We were living perfectly comfortable lives. Yet, suddenly, with the arrival of this little handheld device, it was a tragedy if we didn't have the phone with us when we were out and about. I don't know why. It didn't make sense. Suddenly, potentially life-threatening emergencies were everywhere and only having that little gray phone could hold them off! Humans are funny like that, I suppose.
This little toy with all 5 of its contacts and the ability to use voice commands to mistakenly dial the wrong person was new and neat and somehow endlessly entertaining. And it quickly went from Nonexistent to Unquestionably Essential. But sometimes, even then, I would think about how, just a mere month ago, we had somehow managed to survive without it, so why all the fuss if suddenly the phone wasn't available? Ah, the subliminal tentacles of Convenience Turned Necessity. Crafty creature, that is.
Anyway, I often still have the same thoughts about cellphones. Yes, they are convenient. But no, they are not necessary for many people. I believe I currently fit in the realistically-not-necessary category of people. Which is good, because if I did feel compelled to always have a cellphone with me, I might have to start using some kind of purse/bag/trendy cellphone belt clip/large-pocketed man pants. Whew, bullet dodged. Instead of my own man pants, I shall continue to use Jason's man pants to hold all of my things, and our one cellphone.
Anyway. In order to properly retire my lonely cellphone, I had to empty it of all the random stuff that had accumulated on it. Various pictures of ears and price tags and men's legs and shopping lists and finger comparisons all needed to be transferred to my computer. And then there were the notes.
Now, Jason is a decently funny fellow to the general public, in my opinion. But to me, he is hilarious. [I may have a really low standard for humor or I may just have a bad case of I Like Your Face So You Are Basically a Stand-up Comedian.] He says things and I can't help but laugh. Sometimes my brain tells me that the world would also like to benefit from something he said that was particularly entertaining. And so, when he says one of these things, I jot them down in my phone, if it is available [this, of course, means that 72% of his funniness is lost forever], and post them on Facebook afterwards if I remember.
Sadly, I often do not remember. And then, if I do happen to remember, I will have forgotten the context to the remark or conversation. And then I have to decide if it is still worth posting. It's a process, people!
Anyway, I apparently collected a few handfuls of these types of notes on my phone. I considered deleting them, but that really seemed like a shame. So instead, I will type them out here in our blog and they will be duly head-scratched/chuckled at for generations to come. Let us begin.
- "You cannot be promoted from bat boy to player." -- Says who?
- "We're cavalier; we dirty the counter and then eat off it!" -- We're trying to do better. Really.
- "Puma, shut up and stop climbing up my leg." -- These are two commonly spoken desires.
- "Did you know shampoo is just shamoo with a p?" -- Some people insist hamsters are spelled with a p, and some people think Shamu the whale is still alive. The fight for truth is a daily battle.
- "I think you know all of common knowledge." -- It's all relative.
- "Ok, lady, if you think making your husband look stupid is funny then.. you're hilarious." -- I accept this compliment.
- "Can we be Amish by day and use the internet by night?" -- This is our backup "once we turn 50" plan.
- "I don't know how to do Amish face." -- That'll do, love. That'll do.
- "I wouldn't have married an Asian if I didn't like rice." -- There is a fine line between liking and loving many things. However, for rice, there is a chasm.
- "Are you just going to leave it there? ...But that's not where you found it!" -- You cannot always mask the OCD.
- "Every time I see a sweater, I think, 'He's not wearing spaghetti straps!'" -- Context is nice, but no context is even better. Trust me.
- "The kpluBlet is going to come out and not recognize your voice because you're not yelling anymore." -- We are currently working under the assumption that the birth of the kpluBlet will magically create that much longed for volume control that I have always lacked... I have my doubts.
- "I don't know why you mind having short limbs. It just separates you even more from monkeys." -- Some things you just have to let slide like a greased pig.
- Korean: "I like when you smile at me. Even though I know you're just laughing at me in your head." Non-Korean: "Oh, I'm laughing at you out loud. You just can't hear me." -- Reason #873 why I love him.
So, recap: We are now a one-phone family. Jason is Mr. Funnyman. I like to take pictures of men's legs with white tube socks.
Digest.
Life: Part II
The past week and a half have been like that super rickety wooden roller coaster that you know gives you a headache and back twinges if you ride it, and yet you ride it anyway. Or someone forces you to ride it.
This past week and a half, I was forced to ride the wooden roller coaster. If I knew how to throw up, I might have done it.
Of course, since pregnant people are legally obligated not to have fun, I did not get to ride an actual roller coaster. Instead, my wooden coaster consisted of week 28 glucose testing. Ingest dyed sugar*. Get stabbed with needle. And, if you're unlucky, repeat with twice as much dyed sugar and get stabbed with four times as many needles.
I was unlucky.
To make a long, fear-filled story shorter, let's just say that I do not care for things puncturing through other things. Whether this is something "normal" like blood draws or something fantastical like Wolverine's claws appearing or even something completely mundane like pushing a pin into a pincushion... The thoughts that flood my mind when I see/hear/sense/imagine that pushing through of something sharp into that slightly resistant material... My hands immediately get sweaty and all I want to do is curl up in a ball. It's debilitating. I don't know what's wrong with me.
When the puncturing is happening to someone or something else, I just get extremely uncomfortable and have to look away and hum loudly to drown out the imagined sounds of tortured screaming [that tomato pincushion has quite the nerve endings, I know]. But when the puncturing has to happen to me... Oh dear gravy, I am an absolute mess. And poor, poor Jason has had to deal with this mess for the past week and a half.
My husband is amazing. You don't even know the half of it.
It took a week just to get up the nerve to ask Jason to schedule the appointment for the first glucose test. Merely thinking about telling him to schedule it would work me up to the point of tears. I wish I could blame pregnancy hormones/emotions, but I fear this would not be completely truthful. I physically dislike needles, but I mentally abhor needles. In fact, typing all of this is making my hands all sweaty again and the inside of my elbows are starting to ache. So, we will quickly fast forward.
Test one happened two Fridays ago. I'm pretty sure the feelings of wanting to throw up were the results of a week's worth of dread and anxiety, though I also suspect it had to do with sitting through the Twilight movie in the waiting room. I can't even. Why is everything blue? Why is everyone so deadpan? Why does it make your insides feel like you're drowning in a thick pool of high fructose corn syrup? Anyway, luckily for everyone, I am not sure I even know how to throw up. So all of the pent up feelings stayed inside my stomach. Whew.
I seriously had no real concerns about passing the 1 hour screening test. I consider myself to be a relatively healthy person who eats pretty well and the idea that I could be a candidate for GD wasn't all that present. Despite all of the anxiety about the blood draw itself, I was never really concerned about the result. And then Monday came. And I got an email from the lab with the horrendous news that my blood sugar was high. And I knew four more needles were in my future. I completely crumbled.
Jason is a rock. The sweetest, most caring, selfless rock who, interestingly enough, is still soft enough to cuddle a distraught Korean for hours on end. You don't even know the half of it.
So. I was mentally frantic, unable to focus on work at all, praying desperately for peace, and attempting to get some sort of grip over my anxiety. Friday was just around the corner and I knew there was nothing I could do about it. I was going to have to be stabbed, clogged with dyed sugar again, and then be stabbed thrice more over three hours. I was in a living nightmare.
[Yes, this probably sounds melodramatic to those who don't think twice about blood being drawn. Trust me, though, this is the un-sensationalized version of this past week. (Again, poor Jason...) Phobias are so annoyingly irrational.]
Lesson: Never count out the goodness of God.
We had our appointment at the Birth Center and in I went sweating profusely and on the verge of tears as I knew that the inevitable outcome of the visit was that dreadful laboratory prescription sentencing me to debilitating mental anguish. The options presented to us on review of the first screening were what I expected: Go through with four more blood draws or just assume the GD diagnosis and act accordingly, which would include multiple blood sugar fingersticks a day. Neither option was rainbow-filled.
And then! Right when all hope seemed lost! The midwife thought of a third option. The option that saved my sanity. The option that nearly made me cry with relief [all of this crying business was just getting out of control...]. She remembered that a while back there had been another patient who also had a deathly fear of blood draws. They had ended up ordering some of the nasty dyed sugar and just administering the 3 hour glucose test at the Birth Center with fingersticks. And, it suddenly occurred to her, there might still be an extra bottle of the drink somewhere.
She went to check.
There was a bottle left.
It was not expired.
What did this mean? This meant that I would not have to go in to The Place of Nightmares [known as LabCorp] and spend 3 sickeningly stressful hours with only Twilight to soothe my soul. This meant that I would not have to be strapped into a chair that is too tall for me [OK, so they don't actually strap their patients down, but they may have needed to if I had had to endure the 3 hour test...] and have my arms mutilated by uncaring lab technicians. This meant that I would not have to wait some undetermined period of time worrying about the results of the test.
What did this mean? This meant that I could come to the Birth Center and spend 3 hours in the homey birthing room with blue walls. This meant Jason and I could relax [as much as can be expected during such a test] in the rocking chairs or on the bed or sprawled out on the couches. This meant we could play whatever music we desired, spend the hours doing whatever we wished, and just be allowed some peace and quiet in between each hourly fingerstick. This meant no harming of inner elbows. This meant Jason as close to me as possible. This meant instant results.
God is good.
Sure, there was still anxiety about getting jabs in my fingers. And yes, there was still mild concern about the potential results and worst case scenarios. Oh, but the big picture was so much brighter. The debilitating fear dissipated. The lack of appetite was gone. The inability to smile and laugh disappeared. If I have ever experienced that proverbial load of bricks falling from my shoulders, it was in that moment when the midwife offered the glorious third option.
God is beyond good.
So, that Friday morning, we drove to the Birth Center. We settled into the Blue Room. We rocked in our rocking chairs. We played a few games. We read a few books. We listened to Tenth Avenue North and Phil Wickham [yes, even/especially his Christmas album]. And I drank more grossness and endured four fingersticks.
Fingersticks sting more than blood draws, but my fear of needles isn't really based on the pain aspect so the extra sting was well worth it.
The nurse was friendly and kind. The room was quiet and peaceful. And the results... well, they were excellent. No GD diagnosis here! Just a Korean with four little dots on her index fingers and an extremely grateful heart. Yes, yes, I know this all probably sounds so ridiculous and blown out of proportion. But since when have ridiculosity and I ever been that far apart? Thankfully, God answers even the most ridiculous of desperate prayers. He is ever deserving of praise. Ever deserving.
So, that's June for you. And this post, as promised, is unbearably long. I shall now wrap up.
We had our appointment at the Birth Center and in I went sweating profusely and on the verge of tears as I knew that the inevitable outcome of the visit was that dreadful laboratory prescription sentencing me to debilitating mental anguish. The options presented to us on review of the first screening were what I expected: Go through with four more blood draws or just assume the GD diagnosis and act accordingly, which would include multiple blood sugar fingersticks a day. Neither option was rainbow-filled.
And then! Right when all hope seemed lost! The midwife thought of a third option. The option that saved my sanity. The option that nearly made me cry with relief [all of this crying business was just getting out of control...]. She remembered that a while back there had been another patient who also had a deathly fear of blood draws. They had ended up ordering some of the nasty dyed sugar and just administering the 3 hour glucose test at the Birth Center with fingersticks. And, it suddenly occurred to her, there might still be an extra bottle of the drink somewhere.
She went to check.
There was a bottle left.
It was not expired.
What did this mean? This meant that I would not have to go in to The Place of Nightmares [known as LabCorp] and spend 3 sickeningly stressful hours with only Twilight to soothe my soul. This meant that I would not have to be strapped into a chair that is too tall for me [OK, so they don't actually strap their patients down, but they may have needed to if I had had to endure the 3 hour test...] and have my arms mutilated by uncaring lab technicians. This meant that I would not have to wait some undetermined period of time worrying about the results of the test.
What did this mean? This meant that I could come to the Birth Center and spend 3 hours in the homey birthing room with blue walls. This meant Jason and I could relax [as much as can be expected during such a test] in the rocking chairs or on the bed or sprawled out on the couches. This meant we could play whatever music we desired, spend the hours doing whatever we wished, and just be allowed some peace and quiet in between each hourly fingerstick. This meant no harming of inner elbows. This meant Jason as close to me as possible. This meant instant results.
God is good.
Sure, there was still anxiety about getting jabs in my fingers. And yes, there was still mild concern about the potential results and worst case scenarios. Oh, but the big picture was so much brighter. The debilitating fear dissipated. The lack of appetite was gone. The inability to smile and laugh disappeared. If I have ever experienced that proverbial load of bricks falling from my shoulders, it was in that moment when the midwife offered the glorious third option.
God is beyond good.
So, that Friday morning, we drove to the Birth Center. We settled into the Blue Room. We rocked in our rocking chairs. We played a few games. We read a few books. We listened to Tenth Avenue North and Phil Wickham [yes, even/especially his Christmas album]. And I drank more grossness and endured four fingersticks.
Fingersticks sting more than blood draws, but my fear of needles isn't really based on the pain aspect so the extra sting was well worth it.
The nurse was friendly and kind. The room was quiet and peaceful. And the results... well, they were excellent. No GD diagnosis here! Just a Korean with four little dots on her index fingers and an extremely grateful heart. Yes, yes, I know this all probably sounds so ridiculous and blown out of proportion. But since when have ridiculosity and I ever been that far apart? Thankfully, God answers even the most ridiculous of desperate prayers. He is ever deserving of praise. Ever deserving.
So, that's June for you. And this post, as promised, is unbearably long. I shall now wrap up.
Oh! This needs to be mentioned: The kpluBlet's arrival aside, the thing I am looking forward to the most is sleeping on my back and reading whilst on my stomach. I cannot wait.
And I bid you adieu.
And I bid you adieu.
 |
| How my heart felt leaving the Birth Center. |
*Allergy information on bottle: "Gluten Free. Dairy Free. Does not contain orange juice, only artificial orange flavor." Gag.
6.18.2014
assisted
So, today I was having some trouble writing a blog. I have my thoughts, but it's hard to get them on "paper" in a way that anyone would want to read. For example, I wrote:
It's not bad information, but oof. You have to slog your way through it with a snow plow. Sharayah, being the loving wife that she is, volunteered to help me through this difficult time. In her words, "Here, you rub my feet while I write your blog for you." So, I rubbed her feet and she wrote a blog for me. The real plan was for me to just take each paragraph or topic and rewrite it as my own blog post. It would just serve as a framework or outline to get me going. When I read it, though, I realized it was my best blog ever, and I couldn't just erase it and rewrite it. So I'm leaving everything she wrote, and I'll add in some commentary/detail after each bit. (Her parts are block-indented if you can't tell who is who just by the writing.)
Ok, well a lot of that is solid. I'm not doing so well at storing up jokes (I keep forgetting them, I can only seem to keep 3 or 4 in my head at a time). Still, I think they'll come back to me at opportune times. That's how dad jokes work. As far as not being able to win at anything because my son is Asian, well... I'll have to get back to you on that in a few years. I sort of thought if I had blood relatives who were Asian, that would make me part Asian and help me compete a little better. We'll see.
This is actually a combination of tiny kp feet and large me hands. It's hard for me to imagine walking on something only an inch longer than my hand and not falling flat on my face. I'm not sure how she functions, really. The tiny kpluBlet feet may put hers into perspective, though. We bought some baby socks. I'm not sure a human foot can fit in them. How small would the toes be for the feet to be that small? It makes me dizzy.
The Villanova conference was actually really good. I presented my research and it was well received. I met some cool mathematicians (some of them famous, but when I say famous I don't mean that normal people have heard of them...) and heard a lot of good math talks. I definitely did not take any naps there, although I was completely exhausted by the end of the week. I'm really glad my talk was on the first day when everyone was still alert. By the last day everyone was so tired they barely seemed to be paying attention anymore.
My adviser had someone take a picture of him and his two students (me and the Asian guy). Sharayah found this very amusing, apparently. I'm not sure why it's so funny to her.
The traffic was intense. It was the week that the I-495 bridge was condemned unexpectedly. That just happened to be the route I was supposed to take. Monday I drove both ways on that bridge, and Tuesday it was closed because they thought it might fall down at any minute. It's still closed. I'm not sure how they plan to fix it. Anyway, the ~45 minute drive took about 2 hours each morning, which was rough since the conference started at 9. I think Sharayah summed it up well: I don't like traffic.
Yep, we have a lot going on right now. Figuring out where I'm going to work, where we're going to live, which is where we'll be raising our kids. The 3 doors are supposed to be a reference to the Monty Hall problem, I think. I'd say you're always supposed to switch doors, but if you actually don't mind winning the goat then you should maybe stick with your first choice.
So that's the blog Sharayah wrote for me, and the extra thoughts from me that it inspired. For the most part, she hit the nail on the head. I guess she sort of knows me pretty well and understands what I'm thinking about and going through. What a cool lady.
Dear tiny little half-Asian kpluBlet,
Really soon you'll be here. It's the weirdest combination of scary and exciting that I'll get to meet you so soon. I hope you like having your feet played with, because I'm going to count your toes a hundred times. When you're big enough, you better believe I'm going to toss you way up high and catch you. I hope it'll be one of your favorite games. Do me a favor, once we start playing more competitive games (you know, where someone wins and someone loses), maybe let me win a few from time to time?
While you still live in your mom, we're doing the best we can to make a good place for you to live once you get out. I can't wait until you're here!
Love,
Dad
Baby room preparations are in full swing. We've been clearing stuff out of our extra room (since it's not extra anymore!) to make room for baby stuff. We've been getting baby stuff to put in the space made by clearing out stuff. We've been building furniture, or mostly just partially building furniture until we notice some of the pieces are damaged so we have to have replacements sent. Still, the room is shaping up. We have a crib, a rocking chair, one of those storage cube things. That last one is actually built completely. I think we've got the layout all planned. It's starting to really look like a baby room. Which is good, since we're less than three months away, now. Yikes.
It's not bad information, but oof. You have to slog your way through it with a snow plow. Sharayah, being the loving wife that she is, volunteered to help me through this difficult time. In her words, "Here, you rub my feet while I write your blog for you." So, I rubbed her feet and she wrote a blog for me. The real plan was for me to just take each paragraph or topic and rewrite it as my own blog post. It would just serve as a framework or outline to get me going. When I read it, though, I realized it was my best blog ever, and I couldn't just erase it and rewrite it. So I'm leaving everything she wrote, and I'll add in some commentary/detail after each bit. (Her parts are block-indented if you can't tell who is who just by the writing.)
I'm going to be a dad in under 3 months. I have a lot of jokes to start storing up. I'm going to be the funniest dad. How many jokes can you learn in 3 months? How soon can you toss a baby high into the air? Or when can he ride on my shoulders and use my ears to steer? One thing I already know: I'm never going to "let" him win at anything. It will be good for his character. Plus, since he's going to be Asian, there will soon be a time where he will be better at everything anyway... I might as well get my winning in now.
Ok, well a lot of that is solid. I'm not doing so well at storing up jokes (I keep forgetting them, I can only seem to keep 3 or 4 in my head at a time). Still, I think they'll come back to me at opportune times. That's how dad jokes work. As far as not being able to win at anything because my son is Asian, well... I'll have to get back to you on that in a few years. I sort of thought if I had blood relatives who were Asian, that would make me part Asian and help me compete a little better. We'll see.
My hand is nearly as big as kp's foot. I think she has a dwarf foot. But then, I haven't yet seen the kpluBlet's foot. His foot is going to turn my brain into mush.
This is actually a combination of tiny kp feet and large me hands. It's hard for me to imagine walking on something only an inch longer than my hand and not falling flat on my face. I'm not sure how she functions, really. The tiny kpluBlet feet may put hers into perspective, though. We bought some baby socks. I'm not sure a human foot can fit in them. How small would the toes be for the feet to be that small? It makes me dizzy.
Speaking of mush brain, I went to a math conference at Villanova. I met a Canadian. I ate chocolate desserts every day. I took naps during math talks. I had my picture taken with my hero (and an Asian guy). I drove through a lot of traffic. I don't like traffic.
The Villanova conference was actually really good. I presented my research and it was well received. I met some cool mathematicians (some of them famous, but when I say famous I don't mean that normal people have heard of them...) and heard a lot of good math talks. I definitely did not take any naps there, although I was completely exhausted by the end of the week. I'm really glad my talk was on the first day when everyone was still alert. By the last day everyone was so tired they barely seemed to be paying attention anymore.
My adviser had someone take a picture of him and his two students (me and the Asian guy). Sharayah found this very amusing, apparently. I'm not sure why it's so funny to her.
The traffic was intense. It was the week that the I-495 bridge was condemned unexpectedly. That just happened to be the route I was supposed to take. Monday I drove both ways on that bridge, and Tuesday it was closed because they thought it might fall down at any minute. It's still closed. I'm not sure how they plan to fix it. Anyway, the ~45 minute drive took about 2 hours each morning, which was rough since the conference started at 9. I think Sharayah summed it up well: I don't like traffic.
All of these adult activities looming on the horizon makes the future seem gigantic. There are many decisions to be made. Babies, jobs, homes. At this very moment, we are planning our lives for the next... who knows how many years. No big deal. Our life is going to be grand, no matter what all the little details look like right now. There are 3 doors in front of us: Behind one is a brand new car. Behind another is a picket-fenced cottage. And behind the third door is a goat. Which will we choose? Luckily, it doesn't matter since even the goat would thrill the kp. Win win win.
Yep, we have a lot going on right now. Figuring out where I'm going to work, where we're going to live, which is where we'll be raising our kids. The 3 doors are supposed to be a reference to the Monty Hall problem, I think. I'd say you're always supposed to switch doors, but if you actually don't mind winning the goat then you should maybe stick with your first choice.
So that's the blog Sharayah wrote for me, and the extra thoughts from me that it inspired. For the most part, she hit the nail on the head. I guess she sort of knows me pretty well and understands what I'm thinking about and going through. What a cool lady.
Dear tiny little half-Asian kpluBlet,
Really soon you'll be here. It's the weirdest combination of scary and exciting that I'll get to meet you so soon. I hope you like having your feet played with, because I'm going to count your toes a hundred times. When you're big enough, you better believe I'm going to toss you way up high and catch you. I hope it'll be one of your favorite games. Do me a favor, once we start playing more competitive games (you know, where someone wins and someone loses), maybe let me win a few from time to time?
While you still live in your mom, we're doing the best we can to make a good place for you to live once you get out. I can't wait until you're here!
Love,
Dad
5.22.2014
Food is so too a symptom.
Call me stupid, but I never imagined I would actually be able to see the kpluBlet moving around inside of me. I knew I would eventually be able to feel him. And I knew I would eventually be able to have Jason feel him. But I had absolutely no idea that I would be able to actually watch my stomach moving about like some kind of creepy monster movie. I feel like this was a major dropped-ball kind of thing on someone's part. I don't know who to blame yet.
Blame aside, this discovery has actually been one of my favorite parts of pregnancy so far. Seeing various parts of my stomach moving around, wiggling, and sometimes seemingly silhouetting a tiny little hand or foot [I know the level of detail really isn't there, but I have a good imagination] is crazy. There is most definitely a tiny person growing in there. Either that or I accidentally swallowed an iguana with a sugar high. Time will tell.
I am so grateful for how smoothly everything is just rolling along. At our last appointment, I believe the word "perfect" was used multiple times. Everything is perfect. Just the way we like it. Time is just gliding by so perfectly and normally [23.5 weeks down already!] that sometimes I worry September will be upon us and we will have completely forgotten to make any preparations for the kpluBlet's arrival. This would be very unlike Jason and me, as checklists and spreadsheets generally rule the day, but we have yet to really start any type of Welcome to the World planning.
I think our goal is to just take every aspect of this adventure as it comes. Jason is much better at carrying through with this mentality, but I think I am, for 98% of the days, doing a pretty swell job of it as well. I'm trying to not over think things. If there was ever a topic worthy of over thinking and over planning and over stressing about, I think it would be "How will I not ruin this tiny person's life?" But honestly, I have come to the conclusion that this is not an actual potential outcome and [even if it is] I truly am not worried about it at all.
The kpluBlet will be clothed, fed, and loved. If he doesn't walk until he's three or get out of diapers until he's five or learn to read until he's seven... who cares? He will be a perfectly functional human being by the time he strikes out on his own. [And even if he is still in diapers at eighteen, who will know/care?] Sure, some of our methods and timing and goals may come across as a bit abnormal over the next couple decades, but I promise they will not spell ruin and disaster and Life of Sadness to our little guy. Promise.
This seems like an appropriate time to mention my excitement about this book: Experimenting with Babies - 50 Amazing Science Projects You Can Perform on Your Kid. Several exclamation points are an adequate expression of my giggly insides. Jason, on the other hand, has already commenced his version of parenthood prep in an entirely different field: Introductory Calculus for Infants. This is seriously the extent of our preparations for the kpluBlet so far. We are going to be excellent parents. Seriously.
Other mentionables:
Blame aside, this discovery has actually been one of my favorite parts of pregnancy so far. Seeing various parts of my stomach moving around, wiggling, and sometimes seemingly silhouetting a tiny little hand or foot [I know the level of detail really isn't there, but I have a good imagination] is crazy. There is most definitely a tiny person growing in there. Either that or I accidentally swallowed an iguana with a sugar high. Time will tell.
I am so grateful for how smoothly everything is just rolling along. At our last appointment, I believe the word "perfect" was used multiple times. Everything is perfect. Just the way we like it. Time is just gliding by so perfectly and normally [23.5 weeks down already!] that sometimes I worry September will be upon us and we will have completely forgotten to make any preparations for the kpluBlet's arrival. This would be very unlike Jason and me, as checklists and spreadsheets generally rule the day, but we have yet to really start any type of Welcome to the World planning.
I think our goal is to just take every aspect of this adventure as it comes. Jason is much better at carrying through with this mentality, but I think I am, for 98% of the days, doing a pretty swell job of it as well. I'm trying to not over think things. If there was ever a topic worthy of over thinking and over planning and over stressing about, I think it would be "How will I not ruin this tiny person's life?" But honestly, I have come to the conclusion that this is not an actual potential outcome and [even if it is] I truly am not worried about it at all.
The kpluBlet will be clothed, fed, and loved. If he doesn't walk until he's three or get out of diapers until he's five or learn to read until he's seven... who cares? He will be a perfectly functional human being by the time he strikes out on his own. [And even if he is still in diapers at eighteen, who will know/care?] Sure, some of our methods and timing and goals may come across as a bit abnormal over the next couple decades, but I promise they will not spell ruin and disaster and Life of Sadness to our little guy. Promise.
This seems like an appropriate time to mention my excitement about this book: Experimenting with Babies - 50 Amazing Science Projects You Can Perform on Your Kid. Several exclamation points are an adequate expression of my giggly insides. Jason, on the other hand, has already commenced his version of parenthood prep in an entirely different field: Introductory Calculus for Infants. This is seriously the extent of our preparations for the kpluBlet so far. We are going to be excellent parents. Seriously.
Other mentionables:
- The most I have ever weighed was either freshman or sophomore year at ORU at 142 pounds. It was such a rude awakening that the exact number has been stuck in my head ever since. If/when the "normal weight gain during pregnancy" of 25-35 pounds happens to me, I will just about reach that weight again, but this time, it will be way less gross to me. [On the grossness scale, Saga >>>>>>>>>> pregnancy.] I currently have gained 12 pounds. It is impossible to know whether it is all in my stomach or spread out throughout the lands because Jason is a terrible source of opinion in this matter. Conversations like the following often occur. Me: "I look like a whale." Jason: "You don't look like a whale." Me: "Then what do I look like?" Jason: "You look like a lady who is pregnant." Me: "No, what kind of fat animal do I look like?" Jason: "Maybe a red panda?"
- Symptoms I have not experienced [for which I feel extremely lucky/blessed/proud]:
- Vomiting.
- Heartburn.
- Dizziness.
- Leg cramps.
- Trouble sleeping.
- ALL OF THE NASTY STUFF.
- Symptoms I have experienced from time to time:
- Extreme hunger.
- Needing to pee every time I get settled into bed.
- Needing to pee every time I get settled at my desk.
- Needing to pee every time I pretend to get settled into bed [ha! gotcha, kpluBlet!].
- The desire to waddle.
- "Let me nap or I'll be grumpy!"
- "Puma, stop making biscuits on my uterus!"
- FOOD.
- Vacation was lovely, though much too short. We read many books, mini-golfed many holes, shuffled on many boards, shod many horses [Jason's ringers were a sight to behold], and ate many, many things. Is it time for our next vacation yet? Le sigh.
- Mario and Luigi are in full summer sprout now. Sometime this year I fully expect Luigi to officially become taller than me. I have no idea what Mario's life plan is, unless he is aspiring to become an evermore bush. If so, he is doing a splendid job of it.
- Even with my 28th birthday looming on the horizon, I have noticed a significantly less amount of "Oh this is depressing, I'm sooo oooold"-ism lately. I know for a fact that this is due to the long-awaited kpluBlet. It sounds rather silly, I know, but finally getting to have our little half-Asian has completely [for now] removed the sporadic feelings of Getting Old Blues. Life is no longer passing me by! Life as I have dreamed it is right around the corner! Being 28 and getting little sleep and changing diapers and cleaning up spit up and searching for patience and having 3-person family time is my very realistic idea of awesome. Life is good. I do not feel old anymore. Hooplah!
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
I love you.
You are soon to be the apple of my eye. For now, though, you may settle on being the apple of my belly. I know you like apples because anytime I eat one you dance. It is the weirdest feeling, but in oh such a good way.
I suppose now is a good time to warn you about something: I have great plans for you. I know every little detail of my plans will most likely not work out as planned, but that's okay. We will make beautiful messes. We will laugh at my plans. We'll just roll with the punches, have fun, and love life. It's going to be so much fun to be your mom!
Keep up the good work, you tugger of heart strings!
 |
| Jason says food isn't a symptom. But these panda cubs and I wholeheartedly disagree. |
5.15.2014
Absence makes the heart grow fonder?
Looks like someone dropped the ball. We have not been blogging. Let's see, let's take a look back and see whose turn it was? Who do we blame? Hmm... it seems Sharayah wrote 11 of the last 12 posts. That's not so good for me. Hmm. Ok, now to spin it in my favor:
It looks like a post was due some time ago, and the chances of any given post being written by Sharayah is (recently) over 91%, so it's safe to say there's a 91% chance that Sharayah was supposed to write another post and put it up here, and she just left you guys hanging can you believe that who does that?
Anyway, since it looks like everything's up to me now around here, I'll take one for the team and update the ol' blog.
Since we last met our heroes, the kicking has commenced. Each day we get to feel little "bloopies" as we call them, especially right when we wake up and right before we go to bed. I'm not sure how the kpluBlet knows we're going to bed, but gender specific pronoun redacted kicks more at bedtime than any other time. When the bloopies first started, obviously they were really small and only Sharayah could feel them. I was really jealous, but eventually the kicks got strong enough for me to feel them. It's a pretty bizarre feeling. I can't say what it's like for Sharayah feeling it from inside and out, but just feeling her stomach nudging my hand is... crazy. Heh, I was about to say sometimes it feels as though there's something alive in there moving around. So maybe sometimes the bloopies just feel like exactly what they are. At any rate, it's really cool to have a daily connection with the kpluBlet. Sometimes we can get bloopies on demand! Redacted really seems to like to kick when we sing certain songs. I know it could be a coincidence, but sometimes we definitely feel the bloopies at a certain point in this one silly song...
Sharayah is also showing a bit now, which is also cool. Right, easy for me to say, I'm the guy so I don't have to feel it, but I really like seeing her carrying the kpluBlet. I just look at the little bump and think, there's my baby. Redacted is right in there, and we can communicate (I can talk or sing and the baby can kick me in the face if I position myself just right. If that's not communication...) So in general, we're really enjoying it so far.
By the way, if you've noticed, I've been removing the baby's gender. This is to build suspense for the big reveal. No longer! I will not do it again. That's right, I'm done redacting. The gender will be revealed... soon. But not yet. But some people already know, so... well, don't feel bad. You'll know soon too (In fact, if you were quick you might have caught an accidental posting of the gender by a relative. If this is the case, don't tell us! Act surprised when we tell you!)
When I wrote up my plan for this blog post (I know, reading it you can't tell there was any plan. Fine, when I wrote up my list of topics to blog about) I included "we need a vacation." Having a baby on the way is awesome, but it is also crazy at times and we know vacations will soon be in short supply, so we knew we needed to take a break and spend some time together just relaxing before the baby arrives. Well, we took care of that before I managed to write the post. In fact, we are relaxing right now, at this very moment. So that just tells you how long it's been my turn to write a post (if you couldn't figure it out already).
In other news, research has been going reasonably well recently. I should be submitting another paper in the next few weeks, and then I have one more problem I want to finish working on. After that I should have enough for a thesis, and I can finish up this thing and get a job. Gotta bring in the dollars for all the Asians that will be running around my house soon. There's already one and a half, who knows where it will end?
Dear tiny little half-Asian kpluBlet,
I can tell you're getting bigger all the time. You have all your parts now, you just need to keep growing. Pretty soon it's going to get a little cramped in there for you. Don't lose hope. Just take your time, look for the light, and when the moment is right... Well, you get the picture.
Still, you should enjoy it in there while you can. You've got such an amazing connection with your mom, and your current home is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing. Plus, when else will you be allowed (even encouraged!) to kick your parents as much as you want? Have fun!
Dad
It looks like a post was due some time ago, and the chances of any given post being written by Sharayah is (recently) over 91%, so it's safe to say there's a 91% chance that Sharayah was supposed to write another post and put it up here, and she just left you guys hanging can you believe that who does that?
Anyway, since it looks like everything's up to me now around here, I'll take one for the team and update the ol' blog.
Since we last met our heroes, the kicking has commenced. Each day we get to feel little "bloopies" as we call them, especially right when we wake up and right before we go to bed. I'm not sure how the kpluBlet knows we're going to bed, but gender specific pronoun redacted kicks more at bedtime than any other time. When the bloopies first started, obviously they were really small and only Sharayah could feel them. I was really jealous, but eventually the kicks got strong enough for me to feel them. It's a pretty bizarre feeling. I can't say what it's like for Sharayah feeling it from inside and out, but just feeling her stomach nudging my hand is... crazy. Heh, I was about to say sometimes it feels as though there's something alive in there moving around. So maybe sometimes the bloopies just feel like exactly what they are. At any rate, it's really cool to have a daily connection with the kpluBlet. Sometimes we can get bloopies on demand! Redacted really seems to like to kick when we sing certain songs. I know it could be a coincidence, but sometimes we definitely feel the bloopies at a certain point in this one silly song...
Sharayah is also showing a bit now, which is also cool. Right, easy for me to say, I'm the guy so I don't have to feel it, but I really like seeing her carrying the kpluBlet. I just look at the little bump and think, there's my baby. Redacted is right in there, and we can communicate (I can talk or sing and the baby can kick me in the face if I position myself just right. If that's not communication...) So in general, we're really enjoying it so far.
By the way, if you've noticed, I've been removing the baby's gender. This is to build suspense for the big reveal. No longer! I will not do it again. That's right, I'm done redacting. The gender will be revealed... soon. But not yet. But some people already know, so... well, don't feel bad. You'll know soon too (In fact, if you were quick you might have caught an accidental posting of the gender by a relative. If this is the case, don't tell us! Act surprised when we tell you!)
When I wrote up my plan for this blog post (I know, reading it you can't tell there was any plan. Fine, when I wrote up my list of topics to blog about) I included "we need a vacation." Having a baby on the way is awesome, but it is also crazy at times and we know vacations will soon be in short supply, so we knew we needed to take a break and spend some time together just relaxing before the baby arrives. Well, we took care of that before I managed to write the post. In fact, we are relaxing right now, at this very moment. So that just tells you how long it's been my turn to write a post (if you couldn't figure it out already).
In other news, research has been going reasonably well recently. I should be submitting another paper in the next few weeks, and then I have one more problem I want to finish working on. After that I should have enough for a thesis, and I can finish up this thing and get a job. Gotta bring in the dollars for all the Asians that will be running around my house soon. There's already one and a half, who knows where it will end?
Dear tiny little half-Asian kpluBlet,
I can tell you're getting bigger all the time. You have all your parts now, you just need to keep growing. Pretty soon it's going to get a little cramped in there for you. Don't lose hope. Just take your time, look for the light, and when the moment is right... Well, you get the picture.
Still, you should enjoy it in there while you can. You've got such an amazing connection with your mom, and your current home is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing. Plus, when else will you be allowed (even encouraged!) to kick your parents as much as you want? Have fun!
Dad
4.22.2014
Secret Things #11: Smatterings
April 6, 2014 - Week 17
As the title suggests, this post will just be a smattering of things. So, smatter away I will!
Smatter #1: Sickness
If you are observant, you will notice Week 16 was not lucky enough to get a baby post. This is because I was busy being miserable with a cold. I really cannot complain too much, though, I suppose. I was only miserable for a handful of days and God looked upon me favorably and kept me from the third and most vicious part of my sick cycle, The Cough.
When I get sick, I go through three stages. The sore throat, the congestion, and the cough. At each stage, I declare that it is the stage that I hate the most, but this is not really the truth. I hate the coughing the most. The sore throat that comes from drainage is miserable due to it making eating, drinking, and talking extremely unpleasant. The congestion is miserable because it makes my nose raw from using up a box of tissues each day and the periods of panic from not being able to breathe through the bubbles in my windpipe. But, the sore throat usually only lasts for a day or so, and the raw nose is greatly relieved by my newly discovered solution of applying Burt's Bees lip balm to the irritated areas. The Cough on the other hand... It can last for weeks. It makes sleeping impossible. It hurts everything from my throat down to my stomach. It has no cure, except time. I hate The Cough.
This time around, I was praying so hard that I would not get The Cough, that this cold was mild enough to warrant skipping stage three. Not only did I have the memory of my last battle with The Cough still in mind [twas absolute misery, I tell you], but I was already feeling slight effects of my nose blowing and throat clearing on the muscles in my lower abdomen. By day 3 or 4, I was even becoming mildly concerned that the constant force being exerted down there would somehow result in the kpluBlet being unceremoniously spewed out of my belly button. Yes, that sounds like a drastic and unrealistic scenario, but I seriously entertained this concern as being 1.7% possible. I am coming to accept that the most prominent pregnancy symptom I am experiencing is Utter Lack of Reason. *shakes fist*
But, God is good. I didn't even get a mild case of The Cough. My uterus stayed in its appropriate environment, as did the kpluBlet, and my belly button remains intact. Disaster averted.
Smatter #2: Movement
Flutterings. Quickenings. Popcorn poppings. Butterfly frolickings.
Nothing.
It's so hard to be patient!
I keep moving the marker for what needs to happen for me to be at peace. First, it was the first appointment. Then it was the ultrasound. Next came the initial blood work. Then the second appointment. Recently, I can finally start seeing a neat curve-like shape to my abdomen, and so of course that means I have increased my requirements for peace of mind to physically feeling movement from the kpluBlet. Nothing yet.
I'm not overly concerned as the range of time when you first recognize baby movement seems to be a pretty wide range of time. I'm not concerned, but I am impatient. Since I cannot install a window to look inside my uterus whenever I have the urge, I tell myself that I will just have to settle for the feelings of life inside of me. The feelings are bound to come sooner or later, but why oh why can it not be sooner? I realize more and more each day how impatient of a person I am. I need to go read the last chapter of a new book. Be right back.
Okay, I feel a little better now.
Smatter #3: Gender
Aside from the birth itself, I think the only thing left to fully, completely make this pregnancy real to us is finding out whether the kpluBlet is a boy or a girl. This is sure to be an unsurprising statement but, I am impatient. Finding out the gender will mean getting to see the kpluBlet once again on an ultrasound. Finding out the gender will mean getting to officially name our little half-Asian. Finding out the gender will mean the baby shopping can commence. It will be quite the day.
Speaking of baby shopping, going to the zoo on a fine Sunday afternoon makes for a perfect stroller-scouting opportunity. There were strollers galore! In this particular setting, however, I was limited to Jason's favorite instruction of "Look with your eyes, not with your hands," as the multitude of parents apparently would not have appreciated me testing out the various functions of their strollers. Or snacking on their child's bag of Cheerios. Sigh.
Smatter #4: Energy
I have felt absolutely incredible this week. Lethargy and the blues are a thing of yesterweek. Curling up on the couch with zero desire to do anything is no more. I feel like my normal self for the first time in a while. No more cold symptoms. The sun is out and Jason and I go out for a walk or spread out towels in our "backyard" and read for an hour. I literally feel myself rejuvenating. LIT-erally.
Pregnancy seems to go in these weird week-ish cycles. Twinges are present one week and are gone the next. Odd stomach sensations come one week and leave the next. Feeling like a hot air balloon tethered to the ground one week and feeling pleasantly deflated the next. Wanting a nap every 3 hours one week and managing to not take a nap all week the next. Worrying you won't make it to the bathroom 9 times a day one week and then experiencing Normal Person Bladder Control the next. The cycle-like feeling is really odd, but also anxiety-deflating. Knowing there's a very good chance that some little abnormal sensation is going to pass within a week keeps me from allowing myself to freak out for no particular reason.
This week, and hopefully for the ones to come, I am fully and completely energized. It has been lovely with a capital L. I physically and mentally feel great. God is good. Now if kpluBlet would just learn some Morse code and tap out a few messages, I would be absolutely satisfied. But alas, in all of our baby brainstorming sessions, we have not come up with a method to teach the kpluBlet Morse code except through Morse code...
Who knew a tiny little onion-sized person would be sitting inside of me right this minute?
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
Oh, little one. You're so tiny and hidden away and yet you seem to affect every little part of our lives, even now. I can only imagine how much more true this will be once you arrive and we get to solemnly shake hands. You will rightfully assume that you are the center of our world.
So, here's the scoop, kpluBlet. Here is how the world will work. Puma will chase the balled-up tissues. You will chase the Puma. We will chase you. Got it? Okay, good.
Life will be ever so bright when your cuteness arrives.
***Now that our secret posts and real time have caught up to each other, and since our secret posts aren't really much of a secret anymore, this shall be the last of them. Our normal life ramblings shall pick back up from here on out [which means Jason will finally blog again!].***
As the title suggests, this post will just be a smattering of things. So, smatter away I will!
Smatter #1: Sickness
If you are observant, you will notice Week 16 was not lucky enough to get a baby post. This is because I was busy being miserable with a cold. I really cannot complain too much, though, I suppose. I was only miserable for a handful of days and God looked upon me favorably and kept me from the third and most vicious part of my sick cycle, The Cough.
When I get sick, I go through three stages. The sore throat, the congestion, and the cough. At each stage, I declare that it is the stage that I hate the most, but this is not really the truth. I hate the coughing the most. The sore throat that comes from drainage is miserable due to it making eating, drinking, and talking extremely unpleasant. The congestion is miserable because it makes my nose raw from using up a box of tissues each day and the periods of panic from not being able to breathe through the bubbles in my windpipe. But, the sore throat usually only lasts for a day or so, and the raw nose is greatly relieved by my newly discovered solution of applying Burt's Bees lip balm to the irritated areas. The Cough on the other hand... It can last for weeks. It makes sleeping impossible. It hurts everything from my throat down to my stomach. It has no cure, except time. I hate The Cough.
This time around, I was praying so hard that I would not get The Cough, that this cold was mild enough to warrant skipping stage three. Not only did I have the memory of my last battle with The Cough still in mind [twas absolute misery, I tell you], but I was already feeling slight effects of my nose blowing and throat clearing on the muscles in my lower abdomen. By day 3 or 4, I was even becoming mildly concerned that the constant force being exerted down there would somehow result in the kpluBlet being unceremoniously spewed out of my belly button. Yes, that sounds like a drastic and unrealistic scenario, but I seriously entertained this concern as being 1.7% possible. I am coming to accept that the most prominent pregnancy symptom I am experiencing is Utter Lack of Reason. *shakes fist*
But, God is good. I didn't even get a mild case of The Cough. My uterus stayed in its appropriate environment, as did the kpluBlet, and my belly button remains intact. Disaster averted.
Smatter #2: Movement
Flutterings. Quickenings. Popcorn poppings. Butterfly frolickings.
Nothing.
It's so hard to be patient!
I keep moving the marker for what needs to happen for me to be at peace. First, it was the first appointment. Then it was the ultrasound. Next came the initial blood work. Then the second appointment. Recently, I can finally start seeing a neat curve-like shape to my abdomen, and so of course that means I have increased my requirements for peace of mind to physically feeling movement from the kpluBlet. Nothing yet.
I'm not overly concerned as the range of time when you first recognize baby movement seems to be a pretty wide range of time. I'm not concerned, but I am impatient. Since I cannot install a window to look inside my uterus whenever I have the urge, I tell myself that I will just have to settle for the feelings of life inside of me. The feelings are bound to come sooner or later, but why oh why can it not be sooner? I realize more and more each day how impatient of a person I am. I need to go read the last chapter of a new book. Be right back.
Okay, I feel a little better now.
Smatter #3: Gender
Aside from the birth itself, I think the only thing left to fully, completely make this pregnancy real to us is finding out whether the kpluBlet is a boy or a girl. This is sure to be an unsurprising statement but, I am impatient. Finding out the gender will mean getting to see the kpluBlet once again on an ultrasound. Finding out the gender will mean getting to officially name our little half-Asian. Finding out the gender will mean the baby shopping can commence. It will be quite the day.
Speaking of baby shopping, going to the zoo on a fine Sunday afternoon makes for a perfect stroller-scouting opportunity. There were strollers galore! In this particular setting, however, I was limited to Jason's favorite instruction of "Look with your eyes, not with your hands," as the multitude of parents apparently would not have appreciated me testing out the various functions of their strollers. Or snacking on their child's bag of Cheerios. Sigh.
Smatter #4: Energy
I have felt absolutely incredible this week. Lethargy and the blues are a thing of yesterweek. Curling up on the couch with zero desire to do anything is no more. I feel like my normal self for the first time in a while. No more cold symptoms. The sun is out and Jason and I go out for a walk or spread out towels in our "backyard" and read for an hour. I literally feel myself rejuvenating. LIT-erally.
Pregnancy seems to go in these weird week-ish cycles. Twinges are present one week and are gone the next. Odd stomach sensations come one week and leave the next. Feeling like a hot air balloon tethered to the ground one week and feeling pleasantly deflated the next. Wanting a nap every 3 hours one week and managing to not take a nap all week the next. Worrying you won't make it to the bathroom 9 times a day one week and then experiencing Normal Person Bladder Control the next. The cycle-like feeling is really odd, but also anxiety-deflating. Knowing there's a very good chance that some little abnormal sensation is going to pass within a week keeps me from allowing myself to freak out for no particular reason.
This week, and hopefully for the ones to come, I am fully and completely energized. It has been lovely with a capital L. I physically and mentally feel great. God is good. Now if kpluBlet would just learn some Morse code and tap out a few messages, I would be absolutely satisfied. But alas, in all of our baby brainstorming sessions, we have not come up with a method to teach the kpluBlet Morse code except through Morse code...
Who knew a tiny little onion-sized person would be sitting inside of me right this minute?
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
Oh, little one. You're so tiny and hidden away and yet you seem to affect every little part of our lives, even now. I can only imagine how much more true this will be once you arrive and we get to solemnly shake hands. You will rightfully assume that you are the center of our world.
So, here's the scoop, kpluBlet. Here is how the world will work. Puma will chase the balled-up tissues. You will chase the Puma. We will chase you. Got it? Okay, good.
Life will be ever so bright when your cuteness arrives.
***Now that our secret posts and real time have caught up to each other, and since our secret posts aren't really much of a secret anymore, this shall be the last of them. Our normal life ramblings shall pick back up from here on out [which means Jason will finally blog again!].***
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