Hey! I'm Back!

Oh man, has it been forever! I have missed blogging! Three months, 2 weeks and 1 day into this craziness I feel like I FINALLY have enough of a handle on this parenting thing to say we have established the all-important routine. Let's catch you up on the last three and half months, shall we?

The first 6 weeks after Thierry's birth I was on maternity leave. And it was AWESOME. Tommy was in his brother Dan's wedding on August 21 (6 days after bebe made his appearance) and left for NY on the 18th - the same day my parents arrived to meet their grandson and hang out while baby daddy was away! When he was 6 days old Papa Mac took Thierry to his first baseball game (outside the womb, that is, he had been to approximately 50 games while in utero). Tomas returned to us unscathed the day after the wedding and we met him for a much-anticipated reunion in San Francisco. After meeting Tommy at the airport we spent the day at Pier 39 and enjoyed a birthday lunch (for ME) at Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. We left mom and dad, er, excuse me, Gramma and Papa in San Fran and returned home to Motown as a family once again!

Tom's parents Ken and Connie (aka Yaya and Poppie) came to Modesto about a week and a half after TJ was born for a delightful visit that included lots of laughter and an awesome rib barbecue at our house. My mom came back for a double dip and overlapped her visit with Ken and Connie's so they could meet each other. Shar-Bear stayed for a week and was an enormous help with the baby and around the house! Anytime you wanna come back ma, you're more than welcome :) After the visits were over the days blissfully ran into one another, we didn't get much sleep, and took lots of walks around the neighborhood with our baby boy for the remainder of my maternity leave.

Buuuuut, those long days of delightful relaxation and hanging out with all of my babies came to an end and I returned to work in October. Fortunately my boss has allowed me to work part-time from home and my schedule in the office is only 8:30-1:30 everyday until we return from our Christmas holiday break in January.

At 11 weeks TJ started sleeping through the night and he has been a ridiculously amazing baby since we brought him home. He's incredibly strong and very easy-going. He doesn't cry too often, rolled over for the first time when he was 7 weeks old and loves to hang out with mom and dad. He's also content spending time with himself, and at just 3 months likes sitting in his bouncer or laying under his mobile and just checking everything out. One thing he does not particularly like is sitting in one place for too long, and he lets us know it! He's starting to recognize words, is smily and giggly and absolutely fantastic. I could seriously gush about the kid for hours!

Being a parent is completely surreal. I can't even describe it. But I know that I love it. Over the next couple of weeks I'll catch up on some of the fun adventures we've had since welcoming Thierry, and do my best to keep up with everything that's coming up. For now, here's some pictures of the boy...welcome back to blogging MOM...bahaha, so surreal :)

This is What We Were Doing August 14...


Brand New...


Just Cleaned Up...


Home from the Hospital...


Us...


First Baseball Game!


Thierry Goes to San Fran...


Baby's First Bath...


Mmmmm...Ribs...


One of Our Favorite Things...


Yaya and Gramma!


Ready for Some Football!


15 Weeks...

It's a Bouncing Baby Boy!

Hopefully this isn't news to anyone, but - we had a baby boy!!

Thierry (tea-AIR-ee) James Parr was born at 8:26 p.m. on Sunday, August 15 in Modesto, CA, he weighed in at a robust 8 lbs, 4 oz and was 21 inches long...and he's quite a looker, if I do say so myself :) He has his daddy's lips and chin and his mommy's eyes and long arms/legs/fingers. I stare at him a lot. It's not creepy, though, 'cause he's my baby.

Wait...What's that? You wanna hear about D-Day? Okay! Here goes...

4ish a.m. - I awaken with that familiar middle of the night feeling...I have to pee. Ugh. And what is this crampy ache in my abdominal region? Sweet. Thanks for the pleasantness, pregnancy.

5ish a.m. - I have to pee again. And why does my stomach-area still hurt?!

6ish a.m. - OMG, really?! Pee, AGAIN?! Ow...this pain is not subsiding. Looks like my good friend Braxton (Hicks, that is) is here to ruin my morning. I have trouble falling asleep.

7ish a.m. - I awaken from a fitful doze and in my sleepy haze decide to get up and move around to get rid of these ridiculously strong Braxton Hicks contractions.

So I pick up the house. And, it didn't work at all.

I take Miley for a walk. The pain did not subside.

I stretch. No dice.

I realize...These are not fake contractions.

By this time it is almost 9 a.m. and I use my crack deductive reasoning skills to review the mornings events...I had experienced Braxton Hicks plenty of times before, had even been woken up by them, but they had never felt like this and they always went away as soon as I got off my duff and started moving around. The pain I was experiencing was also pretty rhythmic - coming and going in a consistent pattern, and had gradually gotten worse over the past few hours. Sooo...really?...Great Odin's Raven! I'm gonna have a baby today!

9 a.m. - Tommy began to stir from his rock-like slumber, fighting through a moderate malaise after our big night at karaoke the evening prior.

Me: "Good morning sunshine!"
Him: "(indecipherable grunt)"
Me: "I'm gonna need you to perk up mister, cause we are having a baby today..."
Him: (pause...eyes open...left eyebrow lifts quizzically) "Yeah right."
Me: "No, I really think this is it! I've been having contractions for hours!"
Him: "Really? It's not another false alarm?"
Me: "No way dude, that was amateur hour, this is the real deal, promise."

The malaise disappeared...And so the day began.

(I didn't blog about the second false alarm that had taken us to Labor and Delivery the week prior. I thought my water broke so we got all of our stuff together, grabbed some pillows, stopped at the store for snacks and headed to the hospital only to find out I had merely pissed myself. It's okay...go ahead and laugh. Yep, get a nice hearty chuckle.)

2ish p.m. - Fast forward a bit, we headed to the hospital at about 2 in the afternoon. By this time my contractions were consistently about 50-60 seconds long and coming every 4-5 minutes. We had talked to both of our moms and informed them, much to their exuberance, we were having a baby today. The car ride to the hospital was one of the most painful parts of the whole experience...I dunno why, but I did not like riding in that car. I refused to ride in a wheelchair up to Labor and Delivery...it felt so much better to be up and moving around. I had two contractions in the hallways. Probably pretty fun for the passers-by to witness, haha.

Upon arrival to L&D we went to stop #1 - observation, where they hooked me up to a couple monitors to check the baby's heart rate and the strength of my contractions. It was a paper skirt kind of observation and we were informed that I was fully effaced, already dilated to 5 cm and had a "bulging" bag of waters. 5 cm?? Sweet! Halfway there! I was incredibly encouraged to learn this, as we seriously wanted to have a natural childbirth.

We were quickly escorted to stop #2 - our own personal delivery suite, where I would continue to labor until the baby arrived. Our nurse, Johanna, hooked me up to a couple portable monitors so I could move around and inserted my IV line. It was at this point we made it clear, under no uncertain terms, we wanted a natural childbirth and no painkillers or drugs were to be offered. After about 10 minutes of meandering around the room, I changed into my bathing suit and proceeded to the steamy, relaxing comfort of the shower...where I stayed for nearly five hours.

Tommy was fantastic, to say the least. He was present, but didn't hover, he was supportive, but not in the annoying cheerleader-y fashion, he was happy to serve my every whim and he provided perfect counter-pressure in just the right spot when I had contractions in my back. He kept me relaxed and laughing between contractions, and repeated my mantra of "I can do this...I can do this" with me while I grunted, whimpered and breathed my way through the countless chaotic contractions. Can't say enough good things about the man and his support - especially when the going got tough later in the game. He was definitely my rock.

7:45 p.m. - I had to get out of the shower to get "checked" by the mid-wife, who informed me I was dilated to 9.5 and while she was checking me, my water finally broke. And the real party started.

8:10 p.m. - We started pushing. I'll just spare you the gory details. Quite possibly the most disgusting 16 minutes of my life ensued.

8:26 p.m. - The final push, aaaaaaand...Tommy lets go of my hand, performs some sort of muted jumping action and excitedly exclaims "It's a boy! Oh my gosh, it's a BOY!! Baby, IT'S A BOY!" Seconds later a slimy, whitish creature was placed on my belly, where he promptly pooped on my leg while Tom cut his umbilical cord. Our minutes-old child was then whisked to the corner of the room to be cleaned up, with Tomas close behind. No one bothered to wipe up the poop on my leg, however. They're lucky I had other things on my mind...Well, I suppose they were lucky I was too overcome with emotion to care, would be a more accurate assessment, but whatev :)

The next hour or so is one I will never ever forget for as long as I live. Tommy and I held the baby. And stared at him. Counted his little fingers and toes, kissed his little head and decided which parts of him looked like who. We listened to music (we had downloaded several "baby day" songs specifically for this time) and marveled at the fact that we were now someones parents. We texted friends and family, passing along the good news and sharing first pictures. The baby started fussing at one point while I was texting, and I received my first scolding from Tom to stop ignoring the baby in favor of firing texts :) We did it, and were beyond happy and proud. We made it through the 16 hours of labor beautifully, and had accomplished our goal of a natural childbirth, to welcome a happy, healthy baby boy. The song below is my favorite one from our baby mix, and I'll think of this first hour with our baby everytime I hear it...



10ish p.m. - With mom and baby fresh, clean and diapered we moved on to stop #3 on the Kaiser assembly line - the postpartum room. This is where we would remain until we left the hospital. The baby slept in the room with us in a little bassinet on wheels, I got a sweet hospital bed that moved like those old people beds in commercials at the touch of a button (it was complete with a waterproof covering!), and Tom was stuck on the crappy "pull out" foam pad couch in the corner...his own private post-partum depression.

The first night was moderately exhausting, albeit uneventful. Thierry woke up several times, and a nurse came in to check on us nearly every hour. I was still too smitten to care about sleep, though, and emerged in the morning still wearing a smile. Tom got us breakfast and we hung out with the baby. And hung out some more. And more. And eventually (around 10 a.m., I think) decided we had had enough of the hospital and wanted to get home as soon as possible. Apparently this was odd to the hospital staff, who seemed taken aback when we told them we wanted to head out that day. What can I say...it was boring! We completed all the formalities, TJ and I were both medically cleared to go home, and we made the short trip down 99 to 510 Lottie Ave., and welcomed our baby boy home for the first time :)

And that's the story of how our own little miracle came to be. I hope you enjoyed reading it, we definitely enjoyed living it!

More to come, so stay tuned in - I'm going to do my best to keep the blog train rolling!

CP...Over and out :)

Tasty Treats and Lessons Learned

After a short hiatus from the blog, I'm BACK, and have exciting stories to share! Actually, no, I take that back. Not exciting. Just stories. Absolutely nothing particularly exciting.

Oh my. Except I literally JUST sat back down (the babies needed their dinner) and popped my very first ever Pretzel M&M into my mouth (yes, FB friends I finally found them!)...and yummmm...I'll be enjoying them with a cold glass of milk for the duration of this blog post. Don't worry, I have two bags in case it turns into a long one. :)

So why have I been away so long, you ask? Our July doctor appointment, as they say, rubbed me the wrong way. I was slightly mad and disappointed and didn't want to talk about it and have been on a blog strike, of sorts, for the past few weeks. "But Christa, what happened?" Well, as you may have read we were told by our sonographer that we had a huge baby and there was no way it could be due in September, unless I was incubating a freakishly gargantuan child. We made the mistake of getting excited about this news and were convinced the baby would be born 4 weeks earlier than originally thought.

Our NP set us straight at our July appointment.

Well, kind of.

She was barely there.

Tommy and I headed into our July doctor appointment bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, fully expecting to hear my due date was being moved up four weeks and all of our baby-birthing schedule debacles were soon to be over. The appointment was a joke from the start. The check-in nurse skipped the blood pressure and weight portion of the activities and went straight to scheduling my next appointment (which they usually do after the current appointment.) On the way to the exam room I asked her about seeing how much I weigh (I hate having a scale at home, but am still OCD about monitoring my progress) to which she replied, "Oh yeah..." After we completed the formalities she led me to the exam room (I weighed in at 152, by the way...still 9 pounds away from the gain-limit of 30 I set for myself) brought Tom in immediately and the NP (nurse practitioner) breezed in, talked to us for approximately four minutes, and breezed out.

Tom: "Wait, was that it?"
Me: "Uhhh, I guess so..."
Tom: "What was the point?"
Me: "I have no idea."

Luckily the NP came back in because she forgot to tell us something, and Tommy spoke up about the renegade due date, and we asked to see the ultrasound photos. "Oh...ok...sure...we can look at those." And she basically refused to address the due date change issue, informing us it was too late, and we would have to let it ride. The ultrasound photos wouldn't open on her computer, so that was that. Appointment over. Sweet. Thanks. Catch ya on the flip side Kaiser Permanente healthcare-cattle-call-a$$holes.

After some thought I discovered the reason they were weird and distant and why our NP was unwilling to discuss things. Our appointment was at 11:45, which was a huge mistake because it was the last appointment before they shut down the Women's Health wing for lunch from 12-1. "Did you say shut down?" Yes. They shut the whole thing down. Turn off the lights and everything. The sign on the check-in counter doesn't say "Out to Lunch" it says "GO AWAY."

Okay. So the appointment wasn't really that bad. It's not like they yelled at us. Or laughed at us. Or kicked us out. I basically just didn't get my way. My way being that NP would have agreed with the sonographer, moved my due date up, and baby Parr would have been born...well, now. But it doesn't work that way. And I hate it when things don't just work my way.

But I'm way over it now, and that brings us to today! We had a fantastic appointment today! The baby is going strong and still growing (and so am I...gained 6 pounds in the last 4 weeks...oops...only 3 to go before I reach the limit...fortunately I can't eat too much these days as a result of the large fetal growth currently residing in my abdomen, preventing my stomach from expanding, so we should be good.) It was an exam day...ya know, the kind where you walk in the room and the nurse hands you the paper skirt to wear. Turns out I'm not dilated at all, have started to efface, and the baby is starting to drop. So we're looking good for 36 weeks! I've officially made it to the point in my pregnancy where they'll deliver me if I go into labor. And Tommy and I have reached the point where we get to...(trumpet fanfare)...pack "the bag"! I'm sure that will be a blog in and of itself when we get around to the packing...we already have quite a list of things to pack going.

So I guess that's all for today. I ran out of Pretzel M&M's some time ago (Tommy ate the second bag) and have rambled enough for one day. The morals today kids...when the sonographer tells you something, don't believe them, and never forget that just because they change your due date doesn't mean the baby will actually be born any earlier. I promise it will not be 6 weeks before you hear from me again.

And with that, dear friends, I bid you adieu.

And good evening.

CP

Pee Cup, World Cup and a 14-Pound Baby

Who's having a 14-pound baby?! Well, apparently I am. We went in for our ultrasound last week, and my NP's (that's an abbrev for Nurse Practitioner...and yes, I just abbreviated the word abbreviate) suspicions were confirmed - I am actually further along with little Pele Parr than originally thought. How much further along is still a mystery, as I will not get a new due date until we have our next appointment on July 6, but according to the ultrasound I am a solid four weeks ahead of where we thought. So if that projection stands at the doctors appointment it will mean that tomorrow I will not reach the 30 week mark, but actually week 34...WOWSERS!! So now that I've ruined the build-up by outing the juicy detail of this blog post, let's have the story about the ultrasound itself...which is still pretty entertaining, even given the outed climax.

Prior to the ultrasound I was given a sheet of explicit instructions which outlined exactly what I was to do to prepare...which was basically drink a ton of water and then not pee for 2 hours before even arriving at the doctors office. I am a rule-follower when it comes to these sorts of matters, and a relentless detail freak when it comes to any sorts of matters, so I followed the instructions to the T. And have never in my life been in such urinary distress. Walking was difficult, as was sitting, and let's not even get into how much it hurt to laugh (Michelle and Tomas were present for the festivities, so not laughing was an impossible expectation.) Factor in a baby bouncing on my bladder like a trampoline, and you get a clear picture of what I was dealing with. No, I did not end up peeing my pants, but I definitely did lay down on the floor to relieve the pressure on my bladder, and when the sonographer came to get us she told me to just go. So I did. No, not on the floor, in the bathroom. And almost begrudgingly...all of that for nothing?! We found out later that having a full bladder for the ultrasound is good for the sonographer because the more liquid that's in there the more they can see. Apparently I still had plenty in there because she could see everything just fine.

Which brings us to the ultrasound itself, and as much as it makes me laugh that every single parent talks about their child as though they are the smartest, most advanced, sevant-likely kid in the universe, I have to say...we have a perfect little baby cookin in there! :) Baby's brain and spine are perfectly formed, all organs are in their place and thriving, there's fluid where it's supposed to be, and no fluid where it's not supposed to be...Hmm, what else? No gestational diabetes, no cleft lip, appendages, bones and joints are all looking good and there are no markers for spina bifida, anencephaly or down syndrome. The baby has already turned so it will come out head first, and is also already facing the right way, so we're looking good and highly optimistic to welcome a healthy, thriving little one! Of course nothing is ever 100% until D-Day (that's what I call baby's birthday...get it, "D" is short for "Delivery"? I rule) but, like I said, we are optimistic.

To get to the issue of the baby measuring big the sonographer basically told me that if my original due date of September 2 is correct, then I'll be giving birth to a 14-pound child. Pass. Not sure how that 14-pound child would plan on getting out of my belly. I'll be happy to sire an anomaly, but let's have it do something cool like be born singing instead of crying...not just be huge. It's pretty crazy to think that we may have just fast-forwarded this whole song and dance four weeks! That would mean that everything throughtout my pregnancy has actually happened four weeks later than we thought...I was 2 months prego at Christmas, I felt the baby kick for the first time at 20 weeks - not 16, I didn't start showing until 25 weeks - not 21 like we thought...this is insane! But there is certainly an upside, if D-Day is four weeks earlier than originally thought we should have a babe in arms at least a week before Tommy heads to Roc for Dan and Allison's wedding - and that will be a huge relief! No pressure on the trip, no worrying about whether or not the huge pregnant girl is going into labor, everyone will be able to enjoy themselves, and maybe even strategically set up a webcam so I can say hi at some point during the weekend. Maybe that can even be my wedding present...not being pregnant during the nuptials :)

Oh! Speaking of nuptials, Tommy and I will celebrate our 1-year anniversary on Saturday! Fortunately for us we will never, ever forget when our anniversary is, as it is the day after Michael Jackson passed away. As tragic and terrible and blah blah blah as that is, I gotta be honest, it's a pretty reliable marker. We're planning a pretty low-key day...well, as low-key as watching USA play in the World Cup with Thomas Alfred Parr can be, that is. Which brings us to World Cup Soccer. Today the US defeated Algeria to move on to the elimination round of 16 in the World Cup, and I have never before in my life seen a man literally experience hysterics before today. It was a simply fantastic game, that even now, 16 hours later, inspires comments of "I still can't believe that game" in various forms from my husband as he sits in his Pop-Pop chair and plays FIFA on 360. I'm not exaggerating when I say he was laughing and crying at the same time for a good 10 minutes after Donovan scored the win goal in today's game. Landon Donovan is pretty good, I guess, but I choose to credit the win to the USA windsock, red, white and blue paper lanterns, and American flag banners hanging in our living room. True patriots over here. True.

And on that note, I shall retire from this unusually long blog entry and attempt to put together our baby stroller. My wonderfully creative madre is throwing a "virtual baby shower" for us on Saturday (which will be another part of our low-key anniversary day) over Skype. We've been receiving gifts for the last several weeks off of our registry from the fam and Saturday we'll show them all off to everyone over Skype as they gather at my parents house for a party in our honor. Just because we aren't there doesn't mean they can't get together to celebrate, right? Right! So in the meantime we have plenty of little projects to keep busy with in the evening to prepare for said shower. And with that, I bid you adieu. Go American Sports!

A couple of pics for the road, from Ultrasound Day...

It's hard to smile, I have to pee!


Taking pictures of my torture


Trying to relieve the pressure...Mich made sure the caution sign was in place so no one stepped on me. We were the only people in the room, but still.

The Scare

So, I've gotten some questions/inquiries regarding the "scare" I referred to in my last blog that took us to Labor and Delivery a few weeks ago. Not to dimish the necessity for "being careful" or the potential terribleness that can take place during pregnancy, but it really wasn't a big deal. So let's have the story...

I was at work preparing for a game, Tom was at the ballpark too, and I "spotted" a bit, as they call it, which was immediately followed by further abonormal...stuff...and I can't go into more detail than that because bodily fluids skeeze me out. "But Christa, you live with Tom Parr, King of Gross Things and Bodily Excretions," yes, yes I do. And because of this I am near my daily quota for talk of things that exit ones body - in whatever form they come, be it liquid, solid or gas, and hereby give my word that no further graphic detail regarding "the scare" will be given.

Back to the story...Kaiser (our insurance provider) has a 24-hour advice line, so after about 2 minutes of internal detate I figured I should call if there was any question in my mind at all. After answering their battery of questions the head Nurse Practitioner in L&D (that's code for Labor and Delivery) said she wanted to see me, and it would be best if I came right in. "But don't panic," she told me.

Alrighty, then.

So, not panicking, I told my boss (one hour before a game, gates were open and people were arriving at the ballpark) that I needed to go and I was taking the P.A. Announcer with me. I went to the press box and, not panicking, I told Tommy we needed to go, arrangements were made in about 20 seconds for us to do so seamlessly, and we headed to the hospital. Upon arrival I was forced to ride in a wheelchair (the whole time hearing my brother in my head saying, "What are you?...Handicapped?" because I didn't think I needed the chair), we check in to L&D where they promptly collected my information for billing purposes (capitalism at its finest), and then we headed into the exam room after I changed into a stylish tie-front mumu and hospital-provided cozy socks with rubber treads on the bottom. I'm quite proud to say Tommy and I remained calm and collected throughout the whole ordeal. I was hooked up to a baby heart monitor, which registered the babies heart rate and allowed us to hear the sweet sweet sound of the heartbeat loud and clear. The NP felt my belly ("Oh, it's still soft, that's good.") And asked if I was having contractions. "They'll feel like menstrual cramps," she told me. "I've never had a menstrual cramp," I replied. She just looked at me, to which I said, "I have no idea what I'm in for, huh." She just smiled and shook her head.

The doctor eventually found us (we were about to take bets on whether or not he got lost)and after a short, but make no mistake, thorough, exam he pronounced everything to be perfectly fine. "Wierd stuff happens sometimes," he told us. The main concern would have been that there were ruptured membranes, which is fancy doctor-speak for saying my water had broken. But it didn't - all membranes were intact and everything was as it should be. So, I begrudgingly (sense the sarcasm) changed out of my mumu and tire socks, we breathed a collective sigh of relief, and went home.

So that's the story for all who wanted to hear - and for those who didn't, well, you just got to know me a little better on the "I'm-not-sure-I-can-look-you-in-the-eye-the-next-time-I-see-you" level. We have had no issues since, everything has been fabulous - not even anything I would consider calling the advice line about. I took the day off after "the scare" and have been careful to rest plenty ever since. Okay. Tommy still tells me to slow down and refuses to let me do work sometimes, but I'm getting better at restraining myself. That's all for now, more to come. Stockton rules.

Pendulum? Anybody?

Ah! The blog has been out of commish for a few weeks, my apologies! No excuse, really – just your usual busy at work, occupied at home, sleepy a lot, kinda stuff. Much has happened in the last few weeks, plenty to blog about…where do we begin?! How about I spend this week playing catch-up and blogging about the happenings of the past few weeks, and today we talk about yesterday’s doctor appointment and have some fun, okay? Okay!

Well, we had a doctor’s appointment yesterday and it went flawlessly! My labs were perfect – we are gestational diabetes free, and there was no protein or iron surplus where it shouldn’t be. Also, no suspicion of birth defects, disease or other sort of deficiency based on my blood work and tests, so we are sitting pretty right now! Which brings us to how the baby is sitting, and he’s apparently a bit of a low rider. Not in a bad way, I’m just carrying low and all in front. I took pictures the other day and I still have a “case of the disappearing baby” when you look at me from the side (huge belly), then look at me from the front (she can’t be prego, I still see a waist!). Apparently I’m measuring very big for 27 weeks, as well, which is an issue that will be explored in detail when we go in for our ultrasound next week. Which brings us to the ultrasound issues…grrr. I was supposed to have one at 21-23 weeks but was unable to schedule it due to the supreme incompetence of the radiology department at Kaiser Permanente. Doc was highly displeased yesterday upon hearing I had not yet gotten the ultrasound, threw her weight around a little bit with radiology and POOF! we have an appointment way sooner than the 6 weeks they were trying to make me wait. And this 6 week wait would have started now, and was after they were not smart enough to find the three orders placed for me by two doctors to have the ultrasound. Get your sh*t together radiology, you’re not impressing anyone.

So I guess that’s about it for the doctor’s appointment update. It was short, sweet, and to the point. I had only gained five pounds in the last 6 weeks (doctors orders, she told me to slow down haha), bringing our total weight gain to 19 pounds – and it’s seriously all in my belly. Since I am measuring big the doctor wants to see me again in four weeks instead of six so she can investigate the ultrasound findings and measurements and determine for sure if I have the correct due date. I tend to think I’ve been “diagnosed” with the correct due date, and am just carrying a big, healthy baby! We are still pretty determined not to find out the sex of the baby when we go in for the ultrasound, but I did happen upon a delightful little article in one of the 15 online baby newsletters sent to my email everyday that went through like 20 different Old Wives Tales that are supposed to tell whether you’re having a boy or girl. Here’s what they had to say, and there really are like 20…

Old Wives Tale Test #1
If you prefer sleeping on your right side, it’s a girl. If you prefer the left, you’re having a boy.
Implication: Girl. I’m a right-side sleeper until my hip hurts bad enough to wake me up, at which time I roll over.

Old Wives Tale Test #2
Extreme nausea means you are having a girl.
Implication: Boy. I never had one instance of extreme nausea, or any nausea, for that matter. I bested you this time, morning sickness!

Old Wives Tale Test #3
If your hands are dry during pregnancy, expect a boy. If they are soft, you’re having a girl.
Implication: Girl. I’ve always had soft, callous-free hands, no matter how many weights I’ve lifted or manual labor tasks I’ve completed. I put very little faith in the accuracy of this one.

Old Wives Tale #4
If you’re craving citrus while pregnant, you’re having a girl.
Implication: Girl. Haha, this made me laugh because citrus has been the only consistent craving I’ve had! There have been fleeting cravings for cornbread, candy, cereal and pancakes, but CITRUS has been my mistress (mister? What do you even call that if you’re a lady?) since day one! First it was an insatiable craving for oranges, orange juice, orange popsicles, orange tictacs – basically if it was made of oranges or tasted like oranges I wanted it all the time. Now it’s Sprite. Mmmm, I love that citrus flavor. Tommy doesn’t even ask me what I want when he goes to the store. Just comes back with Sprite So if this Old Wives Tale holds any water, it’s a girl.


Old Wives Tale #5
If altering hormones make your skin break out, expect a girl.
Implication: Boy. My skin looks better than it has in like 3 years. Living in Florida with the humidity and grossness took a huge toll and last year was probably the worst my skin has ever been in all of my 28 years. Apparently my blemish cure is pregnancy. Oof.

Old Wives Tale #6
If you feel as if you’re gliding through the day, it’s a girl. Feel like you’re stumbling around and clumsy? It’s a boy.
Implication: Girl. I’m still wearing my 4 inch heels at every possible opportunity, and am still my coordinated, easy breezy self. I will now thank my mother for instilling an urgency to have excellent posture at all times, as my posture has likely aided immensely in the balance issues I’m sure my body is currently facing with 20 pounds stacked onto the front.

Old Wives Tale #7
If your face gets fuller it means you’re having a girl.
Implication: Boy. And it’s weird because when I gain weight it always happens in my face first, and the arms are always close behind. Neither face nor arms has suffered any extra padding so far.

Old Wives Tale #8
Craving salt during pregnancy means a boy is on the way. Needing a little something sweet means it’s a girl.
Implication: Girl. I don’t think I’ve craved one salty thing.

Old Wives Tale #9
If you’re experiencing pregnant mood swings, expect a girl to arrive soon.
Implication: Boy. No real impressive outbursts to speak of. Maybe don’t ask Tom about his one, haha.

Old Wives Tale #10
If you’re carrying the baby low it’s a boy. If your bump is high, it’s a girl.
Implication: Boy. As previously discussed, I’m carrying really low. If this Old Wives Tale holds any water, it’s definitely a boy.

Old Wives Tale #11
If you’re carrying baby in front, it’s a boy. If the baby weight is spaced all around your middle, it’s a girl.
Implication: Boy. Once again, baby is just all sorts of out in front. I can’t put my make up on or do my hair in the bathroom without knocking 14 things off the sink with my belly.

Old Wives Tale #12
Swing a pendulum around your middle. If it swings back and forth it’s a boy, if it circles it’s a girl.
Implication: Too lazy to find out. This sounds like a lot of work. And who even owns a pendulum.

Old Wives Tale #13
If someone asks to see your hands and you display them palm up, it’s a girl. If you show them palms down, it’s a boy.
Implication: ?. Mmmmkay, what? This one gets the Really face. Who would ask to see my hands? That’s like something you ask a three-year-old when you know they’ve taken something and it’s in their hand, but they insist they didn’t take it. Pass.

Old Wives Tale #14
If a toddler boy shows interest in your belly, you’re having a girl. If he ignores you, it’s a boy.
Implication: Girl. I’ve been working in the merch store during our games now (air conditioned and I can sit down, yessss) and there have actually been two little toddler boys in the store who have shown interest in my belly. Yeesh, scram boys. She’s not even out of the womb yet!

Old Wives Tale #15
Eat garlic. If the scent seeps out of your pores it’s a boy. If you keep smelling sweet, it’s a girl.
Implication: Girl. I always smell sweet.

Old Wives Tale #16
If you pick up a key by the round end your baby is a girl. If you pick it up by the long end expect a boy.
Implication: No idea. This is on the same level as the “show me your hands” mistake they made on this list. What if you pick up the key in the middle? The Old Wives might need to be referred to as Old Bags from now on.

Old Wives Tale #17
If your age and year of conception are both even or odd, it’s a girl. If one is odd and the other is even you’re having a boy.
Implication: Boy. I’m 28 and the year of conception was 2009. Interesting.

Old Wives Tale #18
If your baby’s heart beats more than 150 times per minute, it’s a girl. Less than 150 you’ll have a boy.
Implication: Inconclusive. When we were in Labor and Delivery during my little scare a couple weeks ago the babies average heartbeat was literally 150. It was as high as 162 and as low as 136, but was consistently between 147 and 153. Not even joking.

Old Wives Tale #19
A child tends to be the same sex as the parent who was less stressed at the time of conception.
Implication: Could go either way. Our stress levels are usually about the same, I think. And who remembers how stressed they were last November?

Old Wives Tale #20
If you dream about having a girl while pregnant you will end up with a boy, and vice versa.
Implication: Girl. My dreams about babies are few and far between, but the ones I remember have included having a boy. And in one dream he was born fully dressed like Mr. Peanut – monocle, cane, top hat and all. I think I forgot to tell Tomas about that one. It was pretty funny. Wonder what that means…

Final Score
Old Wives Votes for Boy: 7
Old Wives Votes for Girl: 8
Seriously? Haha, the Old Wives are pretty split. Somebody find me a pendulum, stat.

The Case of the Disappearing Baby...


Wait! Where'd it go?

Holy Pregnant Christmas Ornament Batman!

Last night was Superhero Night at the ballpark, and oh what a night! I love, love, LOVE dress up nights, and was in costume as Batman's trusty sidekick Robin. It was a moderately hilarious evening, read on for the play-by-play and some snaps of the occasion...

So we got our costumes and my Robin outfit looked like it should fit a four-year-old. And no, I'm not just saying that because I've put on a few LB's recently, it really was, like, the "adult store" version of a Robin costume. I compensated by wearing black leggings and black long-sleeved Under Armour underneath, as I was not particularly interested in showing off the goodies to the thousands of families, children and inebriated individuals at John Thurman Field. The material of the costume was basically stretchy, colored foil, was ridiculously tight, and my hair was almost longer than the tiny little cape. Who can fly with a cape that small? I know, I know, Batman and Robin don't fly...but still. Then, I went to put on the mask for the costume, and, in staying with the "should fit a four-year-old" theme, it basically cut off the circulation to my face and was so tight my eyes wouldn't open...in short, hilarious looking, and I have a small head! So after a last-ditch effort to try and inconspicuously tape the mask to my face, I scrapped it. Let them know my identity. I made a pretty kick-ass superhero anyway.

I sang the National Anthem before the game and Tommy introduced me on the P.A. as "The very lovely and very pregnant, Robin." The baby kicked like craaaazy while I sang the Anthem, which was cool, and he went nutso with the ninja moves again later during the post-game fireworks. Overall the night was very fun, lots of strangers rubbed my belly and when I would get weird looks from people or if someone would ask, "are you pregnant?" I'd rub the buddah and say "noooo, I just eat the villains." Duh. One of our season ticket holders told me I looked like a pretty little Christmas ornament...uhhh...thank you? I think people were pretty surprised I dressed up in costume with my belly all akimbo - you can't say I'm not a good sport! I thought it was hilarious.

Check out some pics from the evening, and don't even think about judging me next to the PYT's on our promo staff with their tight little tummies :)

Robin, Supergirl and Batgirl...don't you love how the costume just kind of slopes to my belly, haha, it looks like a beer gut!



I think the belt really did a lot to cover the baby bump. Not.



Robin and Mrs. Incredible...Did you know the Incredibles real last name is Parr? Tommy wanted me to be Mrs. Incredible, but I refused unless he dressed up as my Mr., which he, in turn, refused. Sooo.... :)



Our crew minus Mrs. Incredible and Wonder Woman...they were apparently off fighting crime.