Metal Meredith

Can anyone believe it? It has been 6 damn months. I am the last person people would ever think to admit that a pregnancy is flying by, but it is. I am less sick than last time. I feel a bit better and although all of the annoying things from last time are still present (the gagging, oh god, the gagging), I am functioning better on a daily basis than I was with Vivienne. Of course, Phil would disagree solely based on how clean the house is not.

Tiny Boy Human is now kicking the crap out of my insides. Phil is even shocked at how strong the kicks are. I am just a bit terrified that they are this hard and he only weighs a pound and a half. What the heck will they feel like when he is 6 lbs?

Vivienne has started school and is loving it. She comes home every day with a new story or song or tale about something she did that day. Mostly, she just sings songs and makes up words. Last night, Phil and I were serenaded with a lovely song about how Vivienne and Mommy and Daddy cleaned up, ate dinner and went to the playground. Hooray!

We spent a good portion of this weekend cleaning up and clearing out, getting the baby’s room cleaned up and ready for paint. During this time, Phil went crazy on the floors downstairs, vacuuming, mopping and practically buffing on hands and knees. They look wonderful and the whole house shows it. However.....he did crack at one point.

We have always had quirky cats. I am not sure if we are just a magnet for cats with some unusual behavoirs, or if this blanket statement really encompasses all felines. With Kitcha, she would pull her water dish with her paw. At first, she would dip her paw in and feel where the water level was. Then, she would hook her paw over the side of the dish and pull it toward her. The dish would lurch forward, spilling the water all over the floor. Sometimes, once was enough. More often than not, we would wake up in the morning to find the water bowl anywhere from 6 inches to 6 feet from where it was the night before. Many times, it was moved into a totally different room than where it started, leaving a trail of cat water in its wake.

We tried many things to keep the water bowl in place, rubber bottom bowls, heavier dishes and even those rubber shelf liners, which worked for a good while. Finally, we bought a large bowl with a water reservior that made the dish almost too heavy to move.

Once Kitcha was gone, we enjoyed a few months of stationary water and food bowls. Then I had to go get these kittens. Much to our dismay, the female of the two, Liesl, is a water dish puller. We bought a plastic mat and watched in amazement as she pulled and yanked at it until it dislodged off and spilled all over the place.

My husband, being the competitive sort and with a wild look in his eyes, fastened two hook and eyes on the back of the water dish and affixed it permanently to the wall. He put it down, showed it to the cats and watched in glee as Liesl pulled and pulled but to no avail. He looked up, smiled and let out an evil laugh.

“I WIN!”, he shouts. Yes, dear. you won.

God help me, we are having a boy.

Before Vivienne came along I would have rejoiced at the thought of having a boy. I didn’t want to deal with all the baggage that comes with ovaries and estrogen. I certainly don’t want to deal with overactive hormones at 11 years old, obsessiveness with clothing and hair, the stomping of feet and slamming of doors that was all too prevalent on our home. Phil and I fell silent for a good 20 minutes when the ultrasound technician told us it was a girl back in 2003.

Of course, soon the idea grew on me and now I wouldn’t choose differently. However, girls are now what I know. The thought of dealing with ‘boy parts’ and the constant need to reassure themselves that their penises are still attached from the unbelievably early age of 2 months or some such nonsense, makes me a little faint. Phil, of course, beams with pride due to the size of the newly formed member that was pictured in the ultrasound.

So, I have attempted to pump myself up by looking at boy clothing to see if I can locate anything without bears or sports. Yesterday, I hit the jackpot.

Oh goodness gracious, how sweet is this? There is a whole line of rock inspired clothing with nice saying like “My Mom is a Rock Star”. *swoon* Needless to say, I emailed the proud soon-to-be grandmother of 2 and pointed these out. I am lucky enough to have an email in my inbox with a 5 day shipping notification that these are on the way. Hooray!

Do you think it is sad that it takes things like this to make me excited? I suppose the ultrasound made it all the more real while the clothes make it that much more fun.

While trying to find some older photos of myself, I ran across some videos of Vivienne from her very early months. I am sharing my favorite with you all. It is only 15 seconds long, but sweet and it makes me that much more ready to have a new baby.

We find out on Tuesday whether or not this child will be a boy or girl. Tiny Human is getting more active, making me less sick but still a thorn in my side (internally, of course). I thought this would be a good chance to let everyone predict what, when and how big this baby will be. We won’t keep gender a secret, but we aren’t sharing names with anyone. Neener neener.

If you would like to play, you will be able to adjust your predictions for a while before we close the contest (like Thanksgiving, god help me I will still be pregnant at Thanksgiving.) Here is a link for you to follow: http://www.expectnet.com/games/TinyHuman2007

Although we are excited to see what we are having, we had some tragic family news and will be dealing with that first. Maybe soon I will do a post and update everyone. Suffice it to say that on Monday, I will be attending my third funeral in my lifetime for someone who should have well outlived me.

As to not end this post on a depressing note, here are some silly pictures of Vivienne.

Vivienne thinks she is whistling:

Vivienne playing in the sand during her first trip to a beach:

What should take 30 minutes now takes an hour and a half thanks to my super-sensitive sense of smell. Going grocery shopping was something that meant I got an hour away from my (wonderful) family to do my best to use every coupon I owned. However, now it all has changed.

The first time I went grocery shopping after getting hit with the inevitable morning sickness, I made Phil and Vivienne come with me. I spent a good amount of time unwrapping more lollipops and candy to keep my mouth busy so I wouldn’t gag the whole time. I did a lot of pointing gestures to Phil and closed mouth, clenched teeth speaking in order to get what I needed. As soon as we turned down the meat isle, I about lost it.

Phil asked me this morning to try and go to the store today. Vivienne is in a summer camp program this week, which gives me from 9am until 2pm to be on my own. Of course, during that time I do a lot of sleeping, lying on the sofa and staring at my computer (all the while concentrating on not being sick). This morning was no different.

I picked up Vivienne from camp and headed to Ukrops. I made it 15 minutes before realizing I needed to keep a close eye on the proximity of each trash can should an emergency arise. I am sure the other shoppers enjoyed my wretching down the isles. Such joy.

Finally, after stopping for a bathroom break for Vivienne, breaking up the produce shopping into 3 trips due to the sensory overload, and finally getting the last of the frozen foods, we made it to the cashier and out the door.

This is by far the hardest part, trying to do normal things only to have them take 3 times as long to complete.