Funky Cold Edema

No more stilettos for these puffy, pregnant paws!

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Remember a few weeks ago when I was so thrilled to have miraculously lost a few pounds? Well, that must have been a one-off event, because I was horrified to learn at Monday's checkup that I'd more than made up for that weight loss. Guess I shouldn't have called my fetus a parasite. I derived some comfort from the fact that some of the weight gain could be attributed to edema, as confirmed by my doc after a quick pinch on my red, swollen calf. I explained to my husband that evening over dinner that having edema is just a fancy way of saying that I'm retaining water. His response? "Oh, so you're like a camel?" Undeterred by my vicious scowl, he continued, "So when I go into the desert, I should take you with me!"

Once I'm unswollen enough to kick his ass, that's exactly what I'm going to do.

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NOTE: Upon seeing this post, the Hubby insisted that I credit him for the Tone Loc-inspired title, which he uttered moments before he likened me to a camel.

The Babies 'R' Us Black Hole (Or The Backseat Pug 2)

Target has always been a retail black hole for me. I go with the intention of picking up paper towels and dog poop bags, but return with $6 tank tops, castle-shaped bundt pans, more Gladware than there are meals in a month, a hangdog expression on my face, and a foot-long receipt to explain to my husband. So imagine my surprise when we went to Babies R Us this weekend and Vince was the one who descended into the black hole.

Things began innocently enough. Vince trailed behind me obediently pushing a cart into which I tossed items like My Brest Friend and Boudreaux's Butt Paste (no, I did not make either of those names up). Before long, he was wandering off on his own, and I would find him mooning over frou frou baby things such as fancy changing tables and bright little nursery rugs. I had to slap his hand when he picked up an overpriced blue bedding set while glaring at the gender-neutral green linens I'd selected. And for some reason, he became quite obsessed with crib bumpers. In the end, I acquiesced to his demand for jungle-themed wall decals. As soon as we got home, he ripped open the package and started plastering the walls with them. This did not go over well with the Pug, who put on his best "poor, neglected me" face. To assuage his hurt feelings, we decorated his bed area with decals as well.

When that didn't cheer him up, Vince decided a trip to the neighborhood dog park would do the trick. Upon our arrival, Oliver decided to ignore every wagging tail and butt-sniffing nose of the dogs around him. Their friendly overtures rebuffed, the welcome wagon ditched him.

Watching my abandoned baby, guilt began to weigh on my conscience. Why was he not interested in playing with the other kids- I mean dogs? As his mother, had I been too overprotective? Did I keep him too sheltered? Should I have urged him to make friends more often?

Suddenly, Oliver started nosing in on a nearby group of dogs. Hooray! Perhaps I was worrying needlessly! But just as the concern over my parenting skills was beginning to subside, I noticed that these weren't just any dogs; these dogs were rough-and-tumble, brawling, growling pit bulls, and my maternal worst nightmare was realized: my baby was running with the wrong crowd! Rooted to the spot, I watched in horror as teeth and claws flashed dangerously close to my baby's gigantic, vulnerable eyeballs.

In the end, Vince stepped in and extracted Oliver from the melee. Guess the lesson to be learned here is that sometimes we need Dad to take charge. But don't think this means you'll be seeing crib bumpers or color-coordinated baby rugs in our nursery anytime soon!

Baby Overload

The past few days have been consumed with all things baby - learning about the baby, prepping for the baby, thinking about the baby. On Saturday at the Pump Station's Baby Care Class we learned that babies are able to not only projectile vomit, but also projectile poop. Will wonders never cease? On a slightly less revolting note, we also learned the proper way to swaddle a baby. As you can see, Vince was a little too eager to put his new swaddling skills to use.

Sunday was my baby shower, organized by my dear friends Yvonne and Jen. The shower was held at our humble abode with a few close women friends and family. Everything was just wonderful - the flowers, the favors, the company, and the paninis. We received some really amazing and thoughtful gifts, including a few lovingly hand-crafted items. Lisa knit an adorable little blue elephant, and Leslie "baked" a very impressive cake made of diapers - 216 of them! I just had to sneak in a picture of Yvonne and Jen with the teddy bears I knit for them as a small token of appreciation. After the baby comes, who knows when I'll have time flaunt my knitting again?

The two men in my life flitted in and out of the party, each shell-shocked by different things. Vince seemed flustered by all of the ooo-ing, aaah-ing, and estrogen. Oliver seemed dismayed by the fact that the big to-do was over an unborn fetus and not him. He spent most of the day alternating between states of anxiety and panic. After the guests left, the poor exhausted pug collapsed on the nearest lap.

To cap off the baby madness, I went for a routine check-up with my OB. To my shock, I had somehow lost a pound since my last visit. When I relayed this intriguing bit of information to the hubby, he asked, "Did the baby steal it from you?" I hadn't really thought about it like that, but I guess in a way, he did, because by my OB's estimate, he's at about 5 pounds now. And I guess that makes him some sort of parasite, but that's ok by me. Of all the things this baby's taken from me so far - my energy, my waistline, my sunny disposition - I'm not going to argue with him if he wants to steal a few pounds, too!

Ups and Downs

It's a fact of life: A woman's size increases in inverse proportion to the amount of time remaining before her due date. What also increases is how frumpy, lumpy, and dumpy she feels. After taking the latest belly picture, above, I asked hubby in my most beseeching tone, "Am I really huge, sweetie?" Never one to lie, this was his response:

To his credit, he does tell me on a regular basis how much he adores my pregnant hugeness, and you know what? I actually believe that he means it! I guess this is the "thick" part of "through thick and thin." I'll take what I can get in the way of compliments, though, because it seems that the only thing that's shrinking is my self-esteem. Most of my pre-preg wardrobe has been banished to another room where it can't taunt me. On the brighter side, a stranger in a coffee shop told me that I reminded him of Juno. When I returned his comment with a blank stare, he said, "You know, Juno - the sixteen-year-old girl in that movie who gets pregnant?" Man, that just about made my week! I may look huge, swollen, and ungainly, but at least I look like a huge, swollen, and ungainly TEENAGER! I waddled all the way out of the coffee shop with a big, ol' grin on my face.

Yet another thing that's increasing is the amount of baby-related crap I've amassed - itty bitty outfits for the baby to be, maternity clothes for me in ever-increasing sizes, and books. LOTS of books. Check out my current library of baby wisdom (the book on the right is not mine). I've managed to read through most of this stuff already, and I'm hoping that the rest of it I'll learn by osmosis, because I'm in the midst of a knitting frenzy. Over the weekend, I finished hat #2 for Junior. If Vince is really good (and if my fingers stay unswollen long enough), he may just get a matching one!