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Quick Pregnancy Update

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I just realized that I haven’t let all my adoring fans (ha) know about our news, which is now over a month old. We found out at our 20-week scan, which I purposely scheduled before our trip to the US: we are having a GIRL!!!

At two different scans, my doctor had told me that it was a boy, so I had already generally accepted that this meant I most likely wasn’t going to have a little girl, as we really only want two kids, and I was fine. In fact, having brothers would be spectacular. However, there truly was something there that just didn’t sit right with me. Even though everyone around me was saying it’s probably a boy, including our doctor, who one assumes has more knowledge than most, the idea that I’d always thought I’d be surrounded by boys and the true happiness I felt at the thought of two little boys, I just felt like it was wrong. So, as I said, I purposely scheduled the 20-week scan a bit early, in order to be sure before we left for California. And the doctor (a different doctor than our regular OB/GYN) said that he’s 100% sure it’s a girl. I asked him a few times.

Oddly enough, I felt slightly disappointed as that little boy disappeared from our future lives and the brothers I’d imagined at all stages of life were no more… but only for a little bit. Then I was just ecstatic! A little girl!

And now she’s dancing on my bladder, so time to go.

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The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly Cry

Well, today has been a day. Thankfully, one that is almost over. In fact, I should already be in bed, considering I’ve gotten five – six hours of sleep the past two nights, which in and of itself is scary for a thyroid-addled depressive mom of a wild child but is absolutely terrifying for a pregnant thyroid-addled depressive mom of a wild child.

We’ve had a terrible storm here the past two days, which kept the boy up the night before last. There were 21,735 lightning strikes between 9:11pm and 11:11pm, according to the Channel 4 Weather guy (via my husband) and the storm was so close, the lightning and thunder were simultaneous and louder than I’ve ever heard before. The wind and rain were so intense, we both ran around “battening down the hatches”, which really just meant putting bicycles inside the garage and making sure all of the sand toys were properly shut inside the sand pit. It still felt dramatic at the time, though.

Throughout those two hours, the boy kept waking up, piteously crying, “mummy, dad, mummy, dad” over and over again, making it difficult for me to fall asleep (I do like the kid, after all). Then, for no reason whatsoever, he decided to just be awake from around 11:30pm until God (and my poor husband) knows when because I finally fell asleep at 12:30 in the morning. I was not a happy lady, waking up at 6:00 the next day.

Although we planned for an early night, I was hosting our weekly Wednesday “Mommy & Me” group the next day (today), so I had lots of baking to do. Considering it was the boy’s birthday, I had promised these people cake. And I know what those tired mamas would do to me if said cake were not delivered. So, of course, I try completely new recipes. I make a quiche (and crust from scratch), chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, deviled eggs and all sorts of little goodies. Then, when everything is finally finished and it’s midnight and I lay my head on the pillow, I decide to watch Inside the Actors Studio: Cast of Arrested Development. Face palm.

Needless to say, I don’t even much remember this morning. I let the boy watch “the fishies” (The Little Mermaid) while I frosted the cupcakes and got everything set up (Oh, and made a ginormous pot of coffee… Sorry little baby…). 10:00 (When our group meets) came and went. 11:00 came and just when I started to fear the worst, three people showed up. Three. To celebrate my little boy’s second birthday. I organize the group. I travel all around this stupid city to go to everyone’s house, no matter how far on Wednesdays and Fridays and do all sorts of work for the group other days as well. And three people showed up. Granted, the boy couldn’t care less (one of those that came was his little girlfriend), but I will admit that I took it personally. Is it immature and ridiculous to do so? Yes. C’est la vie.

Add that to feeling generally overwhelmed, lonely and homesick and well, you can imagine my mood. On top of that, the boy turned into a monster. OK, not really. He’s been a monster for awhile. BUT WHY DOES HE NEED TO THROW EVERYTHING ON THE FLOOR? Water, food, toys, phones (Shall I share a photo of my ridiculously cracked [but still functioning] iPhone?!?!), chairs… Anything he can get his grubby little hands on. AND I CAN’T HANDLE IT ANYMORE.

But enough about that. It’s the bad. It’s what created the ugly cry – the all day, puffy faced, emotional hangover headache, exhausted, ugly cry. Frankly, I’ve thought about it enough. Once I look into what I’m going to do about it (both the need to get out of here issue and the can’t control my child issue), I’ll write more.

Because now, I need a little good. And the good is, we’re having another boy! I know, I know, I’ve been saying for ages (probably not here though, as I really only blog in my head [but if those were published, I’d be the most prolific, amazing blogger that ever was]) that I want a girl. And I do. Those little dresses and tutus and then the relationship between a mother and a daughter. However, two little boys! Brothers! Best friends (I’m assuming, though as my mother pointed out, her brothers aren’t speaking and were involved in a legal conflict recently – Thanks, mom!)! But really, I knew. I’ve always known I’d be a mother of little boys. And though my little monster has been an incorrigible little shit lately, I’d happily have two of him…

New Little Squishface (Eighteen Weeks)

New Little Squishface (Eighteen Weeks)

 

 

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Parental Visit

playing with beads in his new sensory table/bins

playing with beads in his new sensory table/bins

My parents have been here visiting for the past two weeks. They literally arrived the morning I took my pregnancy test. My husband told me not to tell anyone. Ha! Has he met me? We decided only to tell our immediate families, with strict instructions for my mother, who happily told all and sundry last time. I believe she was just walking down the road proclaiming to the world that she is going to be a grandmother, though she claims that she only told close friends.

They were here for less than a minute before I said something. My mom brought me a bottle of GABA, which I had said I wanted to take to help me sleep but couldn’t because I was breastfeeding. She excitedly gave it to me, saying that now that I’d stopped breastfeeding, I could take it. I just stared at her, thinking of how to respond. She knew.

In the end, I would have had to say something regardless, even had we not decided to tell; it would have been obvious had I been that nauseated constantly without reason. Of course, the day they left, I started to feel better. Such is life, as my grandmother used to say (Note: anything my grandmother used to say needs to be imagined in the accent of a Jewish New Yorker).

What did we do during their visit? Everything. Correction: THEY did everything, I did absolutely nothing. It was amazing. My mother cleaned the house (repeatedly), took the boy to the park, put him to bed, changed his diapers, etc while my father built a sensory table (pictured above), fixed the bottom drawer of the boy’s dresser, and bought and put together a kitchen, table, chairs and bookshelf (including weather-proofing). He, of course, also took the boy to the park and ran around playing football with him. I watched My Kitchen Rules (all-time best cooking show ever), Lark Rise to Candleford (best BBC series), slept, ate and took a couple of baths. Best Vacation Ever. Oh, wait… It was supposed to be their vacation…

I’ve now just finished my first prenatal yoga session. I bought a double DVD (pre/postnatal yoga) when I first got pregnant with the boy and, of course, never even opened it. So, I’m already doing way better this time around. Go, me.