I’m 31.

I am 31 years old today. And I definitely feel like it. Last year I said, “I don’t feel 30 at all!” and this year I’m saying, “I feel FORTY-ONE.” Of course, I’m uber pregnant so that’s going to make a person feel older, slower, bigger and dumber. So I suppose it comes with the territory.

Though I have pretty low expectations for a prego-friendly birthday being all that fun, so far I’ve been pleasantly surprised with what’s gone on….

Aside from the near complete lack of sleep last night due to discomfort in general:

  • I woke up to Gabe making me a special breakfast – blueberry pancakes and watermelon and he even bought healthy sausage..
  • He also got me a card that I swear was WRITTEN FOR ME and said a bunch of sweet things in it, too- including that I get to go out to fancy dinner tonight wherever I want to go…
  • And $60 in iTunes — that’s like 60 new songs to download!!!
  • And the movie Baby Mama, which I really love and am exicted to watch for the 4th time or something…
  • Then at work people made sweets for me too- coffee cake and chocolately cookie things and muffins and a veggie tray…
  • And I got an email gift confirmation that my dad got me subscriptions to both Cooking Light and Real Simple magazines (love that!)…
  • And I’ve been having odd long lasting though not painful contractions all morning- which I think may be directly correlated to all of the sugar I’ve ingested before noon…

I’ve also gotten some lovely gifts from Gabe’s family and my mom gave me some $$ that will likely go towards a new iPod…which I’ll need when I finally start running again…!? In like 2 months!

On a kind of bad-news-front, my Pap fell last night and is currently getting checked out at the hospital to make sure he didn’t break anything. The guy refuses to use a walker and will only use a cane. I am contemplating decorating a walker with conservative bumper stickers and other such nonsense and seeing if that would entice him to use it.

So I have to think of somewhere good to go for dinner tonight- even though I’m not hungry at all due to the constant snacking I’ve been doing all morning…

More later…


It’s Saturday and I have a few moments.

Well I’m at the point in the pregnancy where everyone says, “It drags but it flies at the same time.” When I can stop for a minute and appreciate the silence in my house, I do. I think about it when I leave the house and already have my hands full and realize that they’ll only get fuller from here on out…I do all of those things. I’m appreciating and loathing every last minute of the pregnancy because “he’s a lot easier to take care of in there” just like people say.

But my fuse is increasingly shorter each day. I hate my clothes, I hate my body and the way it’s hanging onto water like I’m some sort of camel. I hate the days I have to work, but don’t really love the days I have off either since there’s really not much I”m motivated to do at this point. I’m just…meh- let’s get onto the next step already.

Though, I am not working until this evening for an event, and I’ve enjoyed the morning I’ve had even though I’ve done little to nothing productive aside from bathe myself, put away some dishes and pay bills. I’m just glad to not be at work right now because I”m tired of the comments from strangers. Some of them are nice, I get it people are trying to be sweet. But henceforth I will not ask heavily pregnant women questions about their babies. I get it- you’re done hearing about it.

I know that people typically lose their previous identities once babies are born. You’re no longer just Mandy, you’re Mandy+1 or Mom or the-one-who-cleans-up-all-bodily-fluids. I have always known that being a mom would be the best thing I ever do, if I ever chose to finally do it. It’s not that I don’t understand what comes along with mothering– I think I do understand too much. And I want to hold on to the parts of me that make me feel like ME- I don’t want for every conversation I have to be about baby shit and pediatricians. I want to have my single friends and my child-less friends over and I’d like to talk about other things. I want to make a concerted effort to still seek out new music, play volleyball and do other things that make me feel normal. I know I’ll be sacrificing a lot and likely I won’t mind so much once the little bundle is here- but I want to put it out there that it’s a major concern of mine that I just sink into the background of my kid- I don’t want to do that. I don’t think it’s healthy for me, for the kid, and certainly wouldn’t be for me and Gabe. I mean- I’m still trying to figure out how that is all going to work.

I don’t want to forget that someday I will: move south (Carolinas or Georgia),  go back to England with people I love and show them everything I love about it, write a book (how that will happen I have no idea), contribute something really cool to the library community- do something that matters and gets noticed, etc. I just don’t want these things to fall by the wayside because I”m too busy sitting Thumbkin on the toilet backwards so he learns to aim properly when he’s peeing, or milking myself over a toilet in a public restroom. I want to find a balance between myself and my kid. I know most people try to do this- or the ones that don’t, hell maybe they’re better moms than I will be. I just want to make sure that I don’t lose myself completely. I need to hang onto something. I feel like I lived my life this long to determine and better understand who I am, and if I lost it completely or redefined it as only being Mom, well I’ll just be back at square 1 all confused and sad when the kid turns 18 and moves out.

So that’s something I’ve also been thinking about lately- when I’m not crying over nothing. I’ve been feeling that icky depression feeling again- the same feeling that I had at the beginning of this pregnancy. It’s the stuff that makes me NOT want to talk to anyone, NOT want to try to explain how I feel to anyone, and basically I just want to be left alone. Thoug I’m not completely freaked about postpartum depression-  I have to say I get where those people are at mentally. Because even now (and back in the first trimester) when I would start to get that blackhole feeling as I stared into space, I would think about how much better exercise would make me feel, or how I KNEW in the moment that I wasn’t being rational in my thought process. I think the biggest thing that makes me feel the depression yuck thoughts is the lack of control I have over anything in my life right now- my body, etc. I keep telling myself it’ll all pass and get better (which is true). It’s kind of like when you start to freak out and have to reign yourself back in and say, “It’s just the hormones talking…” or “It’s just the booze talking…” and convince yourself to go back to sleep before making a bigger idiot out of yourself. But I’m very cognizant of depression and what it looks and feels like- so I’m glad to know at least I won’t be completely psyched out if I start to have yuck-thoughts after the baby’s here.  I think I’m fairly good at retaining logic when it comes to being really sad about shit that I can’t control.

I turn 31 on Monday. It doesn’t feel like my birthday at all. For the first time in my life I really don’t care. I can’t really think of anything I need right now that I don’t already have (aside from all the money to pay off my student loans… and maybe a new tire for my car). Either way, I’ve had 30 really fun birthdays before this one that involved everything from balloon filled bedrooms, ballet slipper cakes, pool parties, bottles of really good gin, camping/canoeing parties, and getting wasted on a London pub crawl to celebrate. So I have had my fair share of birthday extravaganzas. This year I would like my belated birthday present to be an uncomplicated delivery with minimal tearing of the taint area and a beautiful baby boy who is healthy and miraculously learns to nurse and sleep through the night early. I know that’s asking for a lot, but it’s all I’m asking for this year.

Next year I want jewelry or an adults only vacation. Someone let Gabe know.

Attack of the baby belly

These pictures are kind of scary….I’ve reached the point where I’ve given up on trying to look decent.. I don’t look good, my clothes don’t fit, I’m just lucky if I can get the inertia behind me to hoist my body up from a seated position.

I am still wearing the same stretchy pj pants that I’ve been wearing for months, but they no long stretch up around the belly. The belly has taken over.


My size small men’s tank tops are now completely stretched to the limit, and what used to be a tiny sliver of “cute” baby belly a few months ago, now looks like a Homer-Simpsonesque beer belly that one would see hanging out at the Columbiana County fair near the Apple Dumpling cart. Mmmm fair food. Good thing Homer Simpson is Gabe’s favorite character.

37 weeks tomorrow. Stick a fork in me.
37 weeks tomorrow. Stick a fork in me.

36 weeks, 3 days, doctor appointment


Here we are. There is a carseat base in the back of my car. There’s a working swing put together in the basement. The blankets, sheets, and newborn outfits are all washed and folded. There’s enough diapers that I don’t want to buy more until we use some up to make room for more. All that’s left to do is clean. And really- there’s not much of that left to do either.

I had a doctor’s appointment today in which the doctor looked at me in a surprised manner and said, “Why, his head’s RIGHT THERE.”

Well I HOPE SO. (Where else would it be?!)

He then said, “Are you feeling a lot of pressure?”

I refrained from saying, “Um it feels like I’ve got 10 lb. barbells chained from  my vulva,” and instead I said, “Why yes. Pressure, yes.” (BTW I love the word vulva. It reminds me of cars and plant parts.)

He asks me (again- he asks every time) how big I was as a baby. Again, I told him (like a broken record), “I was 8.8 but my brothers and sister were 9 and 10.5 pounds each…”

FINALLY I think he heard me. He said, “Let’s try to have an 8 pound baby.” I said I’d do my best…and then he said, “Let’s try to have this baby in the next two weeks.”


I’m not getting my hopes up. But this comment alone makes me realize that soon, SOON I will not be pregnant anymore. I will instead have a baby. My baby, our baby, our boy to hold and kiss and sniff his head….(insert more loving adorable mom thoughts)

…and I will not be pregnant anymore. I will probably also be covered in vomit and poop and exhausted. My nipples will be bleeding and sore and I will have hormonal nightmares to deal with afterwards. But I will not be pregnant.  I will have fatigue-induced dementia but I will not be pregnant. Woo hoo!

My birthday is August 3rd….I wouldn’t mind sharing it. As I understand it once you have kids you don’t really get to celebrate holidays for yourself anymore anyways. Why not get a baby for your birthday!? I don’t know if it will happen like that but at least I have a STRONG indication that the doctor will not let me go past my due date. And that makes me so happy.

*EDIT* Other suitable days for baby to be born:

August 1st, my friend Ruthie’s birthday

August 4th, my “friends” Lisa Ayers and Barack Obama’s birthdays! Finally a real reason to make his middle name Hussein aside from just to piss off our parents!

August 11th, Gabe’s Grandmother’s birthday (I think)

Weight Loss Plan post-baby

  1. Breastfeed whenever the child wants, even if it means my nipples are eaten off.
  2. Make a dental appointment (I’m certain I have at least 8 cavities, and probably need a root canal. After all the dental work they’ll do on me, I’ll likely not be able to chew solid food for a long long time. Plus I’ll be paying off this dental appt like I’m paying off the LAST root canal I had TWO YEARS AGO- so I won’t be able to afford food.)
  3. Stop craving/eating sugar ALL THE TIME.
  4. Exercise with my new Ab/Birthing ball- to get some sort of “core” muscles going on in the midsection.
  5. Start by walk/running and then eventually just running out the door, tossing the infant into the arms of Gabe as he walks in the door, and sprinting up and down the hills of Grandview in the hopes that my thighs will trim down enough to fit back into my pre-pregnancy pants.
  6. #5 will be more easily achieved if I can successfully update my iPod with new playlists for running and the weather cooperates.
  7. If the weather DOESN’T cooperate, I plan on getting a gym membership.
  8. I normally don’t buy into this stuff but I’m SERIOUSLY considering buying a Belly Bandit.

Birthing ball & sleep positions.

So I used to own a “birthing ball”– only then I called it an Ab-ball. I never used it. Seriously- I was terrified of those things. I never managed to stay on it properly to do ab exercises. Eventually it was given to Goodwill.

I’ve been reading a lot – trying to figure out how to get this baby to drop so he’s on-time-ish instead of late. I don’t know if you gathered as much but I’m getting kind of tired of being pregnant and I’d like to meet the little guy already! (Having 10 weeks off work is a little enticing as well…) So anyways, I went to Target and bought (another) birthing ball that is pretty much just an Ab-ball, only I’m using it for a different purpose. And that purpose is to get this baby to “drop it like it’s hot” down into my pelvis and let me have a few weeks of good weather in Ohio without being pregnant. Here are some of the exercises recommended for pregnancy and whatnot with a “birthing” (exercise) ball. So I’ve been rocking back and forth, front to back. and doing these weird hip-circle things in order to “open up” and let the baby drop. I also kind of look like a snowman when I sit on it.

I also brought yet another pillow into the bed, due to the fact that now when I wake up on my back in the middle of the night I also wake up in PAIN on my back. In fact, whatever position I’m laying in, I wake up in pain. If I’m on my back, my back hurts, if I’m on my hip, my hip hurts. This tells me that it’s just my largeness that’s hurting me, period. However…I always START OFF trying to fall asleep on my side. So I told Gabe that I needed to bring in the other body pillow (the incredibly thick/stiff one we originally bought) and put it behind me so I don’t end up on my back in the middle of the night. I tried it last night and it worked– though every time I woke up I thought to myself, “This is like those sleep positioner things they make babies lay in so they don’t end up barfing on themselves.” Which, now that I think about it- maybe I should make adult-sized sleep positioners like this for drunks…hmmm I might be onto something there.

So anyways. I lost my cell phone sometime between last night and this morning so I couldn’t sleep on my lunch hour in my car so I am here at work biding time at my desk. I also went to starbucks and got an Iced Tea, and am hoping it keeps me awake for the rest of the day. I’m supposed to hang with my friend Carie tonight so I hope I’m wide awake come 6:30!!!

Ode to Root-Beer Floats and musings from G

So, I’ve had a weird craving for Root-Beer Floats lately (what’s so weird about that I guess?) so last night I had one with Edy’s 1/2 the fat ice cream and this awesome root-beer I got at World Market while I was out running errands yesterday. It was DELICOUS. Then while I was eating it, G was making fun of me because I was using a long fondue spoon to get the frothy ice cream goodness out of the bottom of the glass. Jerk.

But root-beer floats remind me of my grandma, who also used to make me peaches and milk & cinnamon french toast. And she always let us eat Soft-Batch cookies and milk right before bed. She said she used to work in a drug store that sold root-beer floats and I remember (as a kid) thinking how silly it was that they sold ice cream floats at a drug store. Now I realize she was talking about those old-timey ice cream shops. Ah memories. Our county fair back home also has root-beer MILKSHAKES. To.Die.For.

So then TODAY I (ironically) came across this recipe for Root-beer Cake in my feed reader. Mmmmmm I may have to try it someday. I put it on the blog for posterity in case I ever decide to try it.

So in other news, I am reading this book: Boys Adrift. I’m reading it to (hopefully) find out how I can deter my youngster from being like the last dozen guys I dated before I found G. Okay- not all of them were that bad, but here’s the summary that’s on the back of the book:

Something Scary is Happening with Boys Today: From kindergarten to college, they’re less resilient and less ambitious than they were a mere twenty years ago. In fact, a third of men ages 22–34 are still living at home with their parents—about a 100 percent increase in the past twenty years. Parents, teachers, and mental health professionals are worried about boys. But until now, no one has come up with good reasons for their decline—nor, more important, with workable solutions to reverse this troubling trend. “

The book then goes on to list several theories as to WHY they are acting this way. Some of the theories are: Video Games, over-prescription of ADHD meds/over diagnosing these behavior problems, our education system blows (duh) among some other things.

So all of this is listed on the back of this book. G reads the back of it and says,

“Hey, why are you reading this book about me?”

LOL I couldn’t stop laughing. He automatically thought I had gotten the book because I thought it was about him. Oh, hilarious.

So then a few days later, after I’ve gone to bed for the last week or so by myself because G’s in the basement “getting to level 40 with his Druid” until 1am…I rented the movie He’s Just Not that Into You which I knew wasn’t going to be very good but I loved the book and referred to it often when discussing relationship problems in the past with my friends– so I just wanted to see what the movie was like (the book is freaking hilarious). Anyways, G sees the movie and says, “I don’t want to watch that stupid movie- it’s for girls.” I say something like, “I know, I watch this kind of movie when I know you’re going to be in the basement all night.”

He then says, “You just think I’m a jerk. You think I’m a boy adrift who’s just not that into you. Well maybe I think you’re not that into me!”

LOL he’s a funny jerk though, I’ll give him that.

**This morning G told me he had a dream that the baby was here, and that the baby was smiling and we were playing with him. And then I took the baby and wouldn’t let G hold him, which made him feel bad. Then when G finally got to hold the baby, he said that the baby liked him way more than he liked me.**

Oh, and he hates the fact that I’m not calling him by his full name on this blog So, G’s name is Gabe. He doesn’t like that I was keeping his anonymity in case this blog ever got famous. So he’s Gabe with a capital G, or Trouble with a capital T.