Baby is here!

Baby Grace Kathleen Farley is here! 

Born July 6, 2011 7:55 p.m.,19.5 inches long and 7 lbs 14 oz.

The last week my back and hip were hurting so bad...I was already sleeping in my big comfy chair (thank you Mr. Fantastic!) and I really didn't know if I was going to make a week past my due date like I did with Fletch. So at my last appointment, I discussed with Dr. Owens and we scheduled me for induction on the 6th, 1 day past my due date. 

I was really nervous about inducing because I'd heard so many awful things about it - ranging from the Pitocin causing massive painful contractions to labor stalling out and requiring a C-section if you don't progress fast enough. And I've heard stories that most unscheduled C-sections happen on days before holidays or after 4 p.m. because the doctor wants to get home. Thankfully Dr. O assured me that she was on call that night, so had nowhere to go and would be happy to wait however long it took.

We went in at the ungodly hour of 5 a.m. Heidi was a godsend, because she came over at like 4:30 a.m. to wait for Fletch to get up, then took him to her house to hang out with Brody and wait for the baby to come. I am so glad I have her in my life. She does so much for me and my family.

We got me all checked in at Rose, and my friend Erin came to meet us a while later. She was awesome too - brought bagels & cream cheese for the nurses. After her long stay in the pre-natal ward when she was on bedrest before she had Flora, she wisely concluded that nurses are your best friend and it doesn't hurt to bring them a little bribe to be extra nice to you.

They got me settled and got the Pitocin going. I was worried about the Pit, but hardly even felt the contractions once I got it. In fact, a lot of the time the nurse would say, "ok, you're having a big one right now! Can you feel that?" and I'd feel like a mild menstrual cramp. I was really surprised by that after all the horror stories I'd heard about Pit making the contractions so much worse.

I was progressing very slowly so I agreed to have my water broken. I did the epidural beforehand because with Fletch, (who was not induced) the contractions were horrible after my water broke and I had to wait for the epidural. I SO didn't want to go through that again. 

The epidural was great. You can't get up and walk around, but for me both times I still had a lot of control over my legs and so was able to move around quite a bit in bed. You don't see the needle or anything they're doing, which for me makes it much less scary. They do a numbing cream on your back first so it doesn't hurt as much. It did hurt but it wasn't unbearable. Like a bad bee sting and sort of a really hard muscle cramp, and very brief.

So pretty much, I hung out in the bed all day with Jack and Erin. The nurses allowed me to have popsicles and water (thankfully I ate a nice breakfast!) so I kept hydrated. They give you a catheter with the epidural so I could drink as much as I wanted and not have to get up to pee every five minutes, which was awesome. Except I think I overdid on the water - later in the day a nurse told me I really wasn't supposed to have water, just ice chips and I think possibly having so much water made things go slower than they would have.

Progress was pretty slow all day and poor Jack was just sure it was going to be the middle of the night when the baby came, like Fletch did. But Dr. O wasn't worried, and every time I saw her, she was like, "no pressure, just relax, I don't have any place else to be," which really did put me at ease. Since nothing much was happening, I told Erin and Jack to go out and get something to eat so they left for a bit.

While they were gone, I had an awesome nurse who was determined to get me to dilate. She worked with me doing some hip rotations, stretches, and turning me on my side. During the hour Jack and Erin were out getting dinner, I went fully dilated  - like from 5 cm to 10 cm in no time at all. When Jack and Erin walked in to the room, the doctor was there and they were setting up for the delivery - good timing! 

They set up the big mirror so I could see, which I'm glad I did, since I didn't with Fletch. It was absolutely amazing to see the baby being born. The delivery was pretty painless and quick, and it took maybe three pushes to get her out. Much less drama than we had with Fletch! And also not the middle of the night - Jack was thankful for the respectable hour.

Heidi brought Fletch to the hospital at like 9:30 or 10 and he got to meet his brand new baby sister Grace. Grace was thoughtful enough to bring Fletch a gift of a big semi & trailer stocked full of Hot Wheels. He loved it and I think it will help pave the way.

They all stuck around to get me settled into my room and then headed home. Erin - what a trooper! She stayed with us all day, and took pictures and did my hair and entertained us and in general was just a totally awesome support for me and Jack both. She is one of my oldest and dearest friends and I am truly thankful to have her in my life too, and to have been able to share this experience with her.

We stayed two nights in the hospital - I think if you deliver after a certain time of day, you get an extra night. Jack and Fletch came to visit, along with most of the rest of the family - except Nana and Auntie Sheila, who were on a little holiday and didn't get to see her until we got home.

Thankfully, this was a much easier time than I had with Fletch. No baby heart rate dropping and getting "stuck" face up, no kidney stone, no dehydration, no extra nights in the hospital. Breastfeeding got off to an easy start and has been trouble-free so far. And we of course are so very, very happy to bring home our darling baby girl!

 

How big a nerd ARE you?

So Mr. Fantastic and the boy and I went out to eat last night. As we were waiting to pay the bill, we let Monkey wander over to this little waiting area where there were some toys to play with.

It's a three-sided little space, so he couldn't go anywhere without our seeing him - but there was still a blind corner where he could stand and I couldn't see him from where I was sitting. Despite knowing that he couldn't go anywhere or get hurt, it still made me nervous. I said as much to Mr. F.

Mr. Fantastic: Honey, he's fine. Nothing's going to happen.
Me: But what if a wormhole opens up back there?
Mr. F: ... How big a nerd ARE you?

First time away from the boy

Well, tomorrow I'm leavin' on a jet plane. Have to go to L.A. for work and won't be back until Thursday. It will be my first time away from Fletch for more than a few hours - I have never been away from him overnight before.

I'm nervous for all three of us. I know it will be hard on me - I will miss both him and Mr. Fantastic like crazy and I'm sure my boobs are going to wonder what the hell happened. I know it will be hard on Mr. F to take care of the baby all on his own and not have me and my magic boobs to help out if the going gets rough. And I know it will be hard on the boy to be without me, especially at night.

In the end, I'm sure it will be good for all of us. I need to learn how to be away from him and Fletchie needs to learn how to be away from me. And Mr. F needs to learn how it will be without me there.

I know I'm long overdue for an update on the boy - all is well, he is awesome as ever - but for now, check out the new photos and videos.

the Great Glass Elevator of Doom Incident of December 2006

On December 10, 2006, Mr. Fantastic and I had dinner at the Tabor Center. We finished and headed to the elevator to go down to the parking garage. They’re these cool glass elevators, in like an atrium sort of thing. And all four walls are glass so you can see not only into the atrium, but also to the street outside and everything. Mr. F presses the DOWN button.
Great Glass Elevator of Doom: *opens invitingly*
Me: *strolls innocently inside*
Mr. F: *starts to enter but is forced to stop when…*
GGEoD: *whooshes shut alarmingly, catching Mr. F's arm in the process*
Mr. F: D’oh! *hastily yoinks arm free*
GGEoD: *doors close with decisive clang*
Me: *turns around* What are you doing?
Mr. F: (shouting through the glass) THE DOOR SHUT ON ME! IT BARELY MISSED CLOSING ON YOU!
Me: *presses DOOR OPEN button* The button doesn’t work. *giggles*
Mr. F: TRY THE OTHER BUTTONS.
Me: You don’t have to shout. *presses all the buttons* None of the buttons work!
Mr. F: LET’S TRY TO PRY OPEN THE DOORS.
Mr. F and Me: *futilely struggle to pry open the doors*
Mr. F: *helpless shrug*
Me: *embarrassed giggle*
Mr. F and Me: *share look of ‘seriously, is this really happening?’*
Purple Sweater Lady: *presses DOWN button* What’s going on?
Mr. F: My wife is stuck in there!
PSL’s Teenage Daughter: Ohmigod!
PSL: Did she press the buttons? DID YOU PRESS THE BUTTONS?
Me: *presses all the buttons again* None of the buttons work! *laughs helplessly *
Mr. F: Try the CALL button.
PSL: TRY THE CALL BUTTON.
Me: *presses the CALL button again* It’s not working! *laughs helplessly some more*
GGEoD: *alarm bell rings*
Me: *looks hopeful*
Black Hat Guy: What’s going on?
Mr. F: My wife is stuck in there!
PSL: His wife is stuck in there!
BHG: *peers at me*
Me: *waves feebly*
BHG: Did she press the buttons? DID YOU PRESS THE BUTTONS?
BHG’s Girlfriend: Ohmigod!
PSL’s Teenage Daughter: I know!
Me: *facepalm*
BHG: (to Mr. F) Let’s see if we can pry the doors open. WE’RE GOING TO TRY TO OPEN THE DOOR.
Mr. F and BHG: *futilely struggle to pry open the doors*
GGEoD: *lurches unnervingly, lights flicker*
Family of Five: What’s going on?
Mr. F: My wife is stuck in there!
PSL: His wife is stuck in there!
BHG: His wife is stuck in there!
Me: *waves feebly*
FoF: *peers at me*
Me: *feels like zoo animal*
FoF Dad: Did she try the CALL button? DID YOU TRY THE CALL BUTTON?
Me: *facepalm* None of the buttons work! *laughs helplessly, demonstrates how pressing any of the buttons does nothing*
Family of Five: *takes escalator*
Mr. F: *calls my cell phone* I don’t know what to do! I’m calling 9-1-1.
Me: *laughs helplessly* I can’t believe this is happening.
~ Meanwhile, Mr. F calls 9-1-1. He gave me the recap on the way home.
911: What’s your emergency?
Mr. F: Er, I’m not really sure—my wife—we’re at the Tabor Center, and um, my wife is stuck in the elevator? And um…
911: At the Tabor Center? They’re already on their way. She’s in elevator 2, right?
Mr. F: Er…
911: We were alerted when the alarm bell went off.
Mr. F: Oh! Okay.
~ Back at the Great Glass Elevator of Doom…Mr. F has been forced to the back of the crowd of people while he was calling 9-1-1. They are all looking in at me and helpfully shouting suggestions.
A Small Crowd: *has gathered*
Me: *still feels like zoo animal*
PSL: DID YOU PRESS THE ALARM BUTTON?
Me: *presses the ALARM button*
GGEoD: *alarm bell rings, then shuts off*
Me: *facepalm*
Crowd Random #1: TRY PRESSING THE DOOR OPEN BUTTON.
Crowd Random #2: DID YOU TRY THE CALL BUTTON?
Crowd Random #3: TRY PRESSING THE 3 BUTTON.
Mr. F: *calls my cellphone* I called 9-1-1. They were already on the way.
Fire Truck Sirens: *wail in the distance*
Me: *facepalm* They’re sending a fire truck?! I cannot believe this is happening to me! *more helpless laughter*
Mr. F: *waves at me over the crowd* You okay in there?
Me: I’m fine. This is just…*laughs helplessly*
Fire Truck Sirens: *wail in proximity*
Mr. F: *laughing* Look! They’re here! *points behind me, outside*
Me: *looks outside* OH MY GOD.
~ There are TWO fire trucks plus that extra non-fire-truck vehicle, roaring down the street, sirens wailing, lights a-blazin’. I am mortified.
Me: They sent TWO fire trucks?
Mr. F: Well, you’re very important.
Twenty Firemen: *storm the atrium*
Me: *waves feebly*
Mr. F: I have to hang up now, they want to talk to me.
PSL’s Teenage Daughter: Ohmigod! This is SO embarrassing!
My Brain: No shit, Sherlock.
A Small Crowd: *disperses somewhat*
~ So the head fireman is very kindly and concerned about me, probably thinking that my continued helpless laughter is bordering on hysteria. He was really nice and kept talking to me through the glass, asking if I was okay and such.
Head Fireman: ARE YOU OKAY?
Me: Yes, I’m fine. *helpless laughter*
Head Fireman: WE HAVE TO TURN OFF THE POWER BEFORE WE CAN OPEN THE DOORS.
Me: Okay, no problem.
Head Fireman: *goes off to do fireman stuff*
Me: *twiddles thumbs*
Twenty Firemen: *do rescue-y things*
Fireman #2: WE HAVE TO TURN OFF THE POWER BEFORE WE CAN OPEN THE DOORS.
Me: I still have no problem with that.
Fireman #2: WE WANT TO MAKE SURE THE ELEVATOR DOESN’T FALL DOWN WHEN WE DO IT.
Me: Okay, no prob—Wait, what?
Fireman #2: WE DON’T WANT THE ELEVATOR TO CRASH.
Me: You think it might crash?!
Head Fireman: *glares at Fireman #2* IT’S NOT GOING TO CRASH. JUST SIT TIGHT.
~ So then I twiddled my thumbs some more, and took pictures of the firemen with my camera phone, and called several people, including my brother and a friend. It was very hot and boring inside the Great Glass Elevator of Doom, despite the fact that it lurched alarmingly a couple of times and there was still somewhat of a crowd milling about. Also, Mr. F entertained me by taking pictures of the firemen and me in the GGEoD and also making faces and flipping me off behind everyone’s back.
~ And then they got the first set of doors open.
A Dwindled Crowd: *claps*
Me: *thumbs up*
Head Fireman: THE INSIDE DOORS WILL NOT BE SO EASY.
GGEoD: *laughs evilly*
Me: *facepalm*
Fireman #2: GET THE JAWS OF LIFE!
~ And it took three of them and some sort of jaws-of-life-y tools to pop the gears and pry the doors and then they finally got them open enough for me to get out.
GGEoD: *doors open reluctantly*
Head Fireman: *gallantly hands me out of the GGEoD* EVERYTHING—er, everything all right, miss?
A Dwindled Crowd: *claps* HOORAY!
Me: *humbly* Yes, yes, I’m just fine. Thank you. Thank you so much. (loudly, to all the firemen) THANK YOU!
Twenty Firemen: *tip caps politely*
GGEoD: *shakes fist* Curses! Foiled again!
~ And then we went home and ate cheesecake and all was well.

Christmas dinner

Christmas mas dinner w/ my family tonite, then laid in bed w/ hubby & son watching It's a Wonderful Life...and it truly is. ♥

Is there a word that means "bigger than a poosplosion?"

OH. EM. GEE.

I'm writing this naked because my clothes are covered in baby poo. If you don't want to know more than that, stop reading now.

As the parent of a nearly five month old child (!!), I am no stranger to the various bodily fluids that come with the territory. I have, at times in the last five months, had various parts of my body covered in drool, spit up, pee, poo and breast milk. Sometimes all at once. We have had our share of barfs and poosplosions and diaper blowouts that require changing baby's clothes, maybe a ghetto bath with a washcloth, sometimes even requiring an actual bath if it's 'splosion-y enough.

Look, the point is, I am not afraid of a little poo or what-have-you. I have determined that once you become a parent, your acceptable level of tolerance for having any or all of the baby-associated bodily fluids on your clothes or person increases greatly. Look at all the parents walking around covered in spit up. You become resistant to the disgustingness of things. Either that or you're so sleep deprived that you just don't notice.

Despite my increased tolerance for baby poo (hee! it's funny when baby poops on daddy's hand!), today's poosplosion and subsequent blowout was masterfully horrifying. I got done feeding my little Monkey and was holding him sweetly on my lap, still sitting on the boppy, as I talked on the phone with my dad.

It started innocently enough. There were the usual poo noises he makes after a feed and I thought nothing of it, planning to let him finish the job and then change him. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then I started to notice that the places where he was pressed against me seemed a little sweatier than usual, so I leaned him forward to check his diaper, just in case - and - AND. OMG. POO. EVERYWHERE. This was like the silent assassin A-bomb of poosplosions. All up and down his back, all over my shirt and pants, all over the boppy.

I gasped mid-sentence, got off the phone with my dad and then hollered for Mr. Fantastic because this was a job for two people, at least one of whom was not screeching in horror. Mr. F took Monkey - he had to hold him by one arm and one leg to avoid getting pooed - and I ran to strip off in the bathtub, only to discover that my bra and underwear had also been 'sploded. I can't believe the amount of poo that escaped that little body. Thank heavens for Mr. F who got the boy cleaned up and dressed in new clothes while I was hopping around going "ewww" and trying to wash poo off everything at the same time.

This is why they make babies so cute. See?

And so it begins...

Last night was day one of the Twelve Days of My BirthdayTM. Went out with my cousins H1, H2, H3, T and G to one of my favorite restaurants, Cherry Creek Grill (where I had a glass of champagne, a grilled artichoke and my favorite salad. YUM!) It was a really lovely way to celebrate my birthday and I had such a good time just talking and laughing with them.

I missed Peanut horribly though, and H3 and I had a hard time not talking about our babies, but everyone assured us they'd just tell us to shut up when they got sick of it (which they never did, bless them.)

Today is my actual birthday, and Mr. Fantastic and Peanut have let me take a nice long nap. And when I woke up, there were beautiful roses and cards from both of them and Mr. F is in the kitchen right now baking me a cake! And he tells me that later we are going out to eat with my dad and Steve and I'm to put on my pretty dress but won't say where we're going just yet.

Tomorrow we have a family BBQ for the both of us at Mummy Fantastic's (Mr. F's birthday is on Wednesday) so I am looking forward to that too.

By now you all know just how much I love to have a big deal made out of my birthday, so this one is already shaping up wonderfully. I love surprises!

Thanks to all of you who've already posted birthday wishes! ♥

Fletcher: One Month

I can't believe it's already been a whole month. I've been somebody's actual mother for a month! What an amazing adventure it's been. I have no idea what we did with all our time before we had a baby but every minute spent with him is an absolute joy. Yes, even the times when he's crying (which, so far, is thankfully not all that often). I've posted some more pictures in the Peanut Gallery so you can continue to see that he is indeed the cutest baby ever.

Our little Peanut is growing so fast - already over 8 lbs, which is great because he lost quite a bit of weight right after he was born and got down to 6 pounds something in the hospital. We are breastfeeding and have been on a schedule of about every three hours, but recently he's been wanting to eat as often as every 1 1/2 to 2 hours. The non-scary books say this is probably a growth spurt.

Breastfeeding is an adventure of its own. It took some doing to get started - as part of the larger birth story that I will someday relate, let me just say that I got very dehydrated in the hospital and that caused my milk to be sluggish which in turn caused the baby to lose a lot of weight and enormous frustration for both of us - but we seem to have gotten the hang of it. My Boppy pillow is fabulous and Mr. Fantastic and I seem to have learned Fletcher's hungry cues. This is useful because if we wait too long, our happy little baby will go from precious snuffling and lip smacking to wailing Defcon 5 BOOB BOOB MUST HAVE BOOB NOW in the blink of an eye.

There is nothing like hearing your baby cry from hunger to make you feel like a giant flaming failure as a parent. A week or two ago, I was driving him home from my mother-in-law's close to feeding time and he made the transition to Defcon 5 on the way. It was the most horrible, awful feeling, driving with Fletch wailing in the back seat, knowing that I'd be home in 15 minutes and would be able to feed him then but that he was hungry NOW and I couldn't do anything about it. He started crying and then I started crying and trying to reach into the back seat to comfort him...ugh, it was awful. And I felt so horrible, like he was going to hold it against me or think I was starving him on purpose. Of course I know that he won't even remember, let alone think the world is a terrible place where his mother abandoned him to STARVE TO DEATH, but it's hard not to feel that way in the face of your baby's pitiful cries.

He cried himself out and fell asleep after less than ten minutes, but it was the longest ten minutes of my life. And when I got him out of the back seat, I discovered that he'd cried so hard his hat fell off and I felt horrible all over again. Thankfully, we are mostly on top of keeping him fed, so we don't have a lot of Defcon 5 moments. I do still pretty much cry every time he cries and we can't fix it despite the fact that I know sometimes babies just cry and it's no reflection on us.

So the breastfeeding is going well, although I have started getting upper back aches from hauling around these enormous boobs. Seriously, I thought that at size 34 H, I was big before. Ha. Those boobs were a walk in the park compared to my boobs now. My boobs now are like giant porn star clown boobs. And yes, they are WAY bigger than Peanut's whole head. I don't know how he isn't scared of them, but instead, they are his most favorite place in the world. When he's eating and it's time to take him off the boob, he does this adorable little nom-nom-nom turtle mouth thing chasing after it and trying to get back on. I would video it for you but the video would also have to include a whole lot of my clown boob, which I am just not willing to share.

Mr. Fantastic is an awesome dad. He loves this kid so much I can't even tell you. Not that I expected any different, but I can't even explain how much it fills my heart to see them together. My heart goes all *meep-clench-eee* whenever Mr. F shows me our baby he's holding and says, "Isn't he the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" I never knew I could love two people so much. My little family. ♥

Aside from being an awesome dad, Mr. F has also been an awesome hubby and unbelievable help to me. Breastfeeding really takes a lot out of you (or me, anyway - I am so tired and constantly eating, trying to keep up my energy and milk supply) so Mr. F basically does everything else. Makes me sandwiches, gets me drinks, helps clean up, does all the laundry, and so many other things, but especially, he is the Diaper King. Changes Peanut halfway through each feeding (which is like 8-10 times a day) and has become such an expert already that I call him Quick Draw. We both keep telling each other that we feel like the other is doing all the work. So far, I think we make a pretty good team.

We had bath time recently, which was a tag-team event and went extremely well - Peanut didn't cry once, despite some obvious dubiousness at the start.

Peanut has achieved several of the milestones the book says he should or may be able to do by now, including gaining some head/neck control, focusing on a face, following an object, making noises other than crying, smiling and bringing his hands together in front of him. Unfortunately, we can't seem to get a picture of him smiling - the camera seems to promote Grumpy Face.

We did, however, get a photo of him with his hands together and discovered that this makes him look uncannily like Mr. Burns.

Mostly though, he's just about the cutest thing you ever saw. ♥♥♥

Happy Holidays!

Happy Holidays from the Fantastics to you!

State of the Me

Okay. Time for another state of the me. Lots happening.

Firstly, I've got the plague again, even worse than last time. I'm feeling better today, but for the last few days I've felt like death. The worst part is not being able to rely on my precious DayQuil to fix me. My OB says Tylenol and allergy pills, but the 24-hour Claritin I had wasn't making a dent. Mr. Fantastic took my miserable self to the grocery store where we spent like $50 on cold remedies and Halloween candy, both of which made me feel immensely better. The doctor suggested I try Benadryl or Sudafed instead of the Claritin, so we got both, but so far I have only tried the Benadryl. I must bow before the altar of Benadryl, for it hath ended my misery. Thank goodness! I haven't taken it since I was a kid, because it used to make me super hyper. Now, it puts me right to sleep and dried up all my sneezy sniffles. Ahhh.

Even though the plague is under control, we still have a lot going on. With Peanut on the way, we've decided to sell our one-bedroom condo and buy a house. Yikes, in this market?! I know. But we don't have room in our place for us, let alone a baby. Technically, we'd prolly have room for the actual baby, just not for all the associated crap that comes with a baby. Anyway, so the realtor came over last week to check out our place and basically told us that half our stuff had to go. So this weekend, despite the plague and general feelings of avoidance, Mr. F and I rented a storage unit and packed away a whole bunch of stuff. It was a very daunting task which mostly involved heavy lifting on Mr. F's part and the filling of boxes on mine. Plus both of our brothers came to help with the lifting and driving portion, so it went pretty quickly.

We have crazy storage space here – awesome closets which, over the course of 6+ years, I have been able to cram full of an amazing amount of crap. It was kind of cleansing going through and tossing stuff or putting things in the goodwill pile. Plus, now my closets look unbelievably organized and actually as if they will hold more than I already know they do. Huh. I would've thought it would be a bonus for buyers to see just how much crap you can fit into a closet, but apparently not.

Our place, now devoid of all "personal" touches such as photographs and tchotchkes and literally half our furniture, looks like a hotel. Well, a very messy hotel, anyway, until I get around to straightening up and arranging what's left of our stuff. Once the place is all spiffed up, our realtor will come back and take pictures and such and get us on the market.

It's kind of sad, really, but I guess not having too much stuff or anything personal is what helps potential buyers imagine themselves living in your home. I don't want to leave here but there's just no way we can stay. *sad face* Still, I am really looking forward to a new house and preparing for this next step in our lives. I hope someone sees our place and falls just as much in love with it as we did. And then wants to give us lots of money for the privilege of living here.

The scary part of this whole moving house thing is that we can't buy a place until we sell ours. Which means once we get a contract on our place, we have like three days to pack the rest of our stuff and move out, as well as look for and buy a new place of our own. Yikes, again. I suppose if we had to, we can put the rest of our stuff in storage and live in a hotel for a week or whatever until we find a house we love. Daunting prospect, regardless!

So, along with the plague and the moving house thing…Mr. Fantastic has changed jobs. He hated his old job, has done for a long time and basically was dreading going in to the office every day. It was draining all the life and happiness from him. Even though it's not exactly the best time for it, he left. The good news is that he got a contract for two to three weeks with his brother-in-law's company. It's great money for such a short period, and it's doing something completely different which will be a good change for him.

The bad news is the job is in Nebraska. He left this morning. He was very wary of leaving me for such a long period of time, and truthfully, I'm not thrilled to have him gone, but we decided it was the best thing for us to do right now. I'm fine and there's no reason for him to worry about me or the baby, although that's not going to actually stop him worrying. Mostly, I think we'll just miss each other a whole bunch. I already feel kind of lonely in my half-empty house that's now empty of him, too.

We're not entirely sure how we're going to manage this whole packing up and moving and whatnot with him being gone, but we'll make it work. He keeps reminding me not to lift anything heavy, but it's mostly toasters and lamps and pillows and such now, so I'm not worried about that. And we still have to think about what Mr. F will be doing when he gets back in a few weeks, but I'm sure we'll figure something out.

Anyway, I've got a lot on my mind. Monday was a bad day – I was feeling so dreadful and thinking about all the things happening and had a few spontaneous bouts of weepiness that I know made Mr. F feel awful too. Now that I'm not feeling so sick, things don't seem as overwhelming but it's still a lot to have going on all at once. I know everything will be fine but phew, some days it feels like too much.

From the Conversations with Mr. Fantastic Files...

Today Mr. Fantastic was telling me about a weird Olympic event he saw last night that he was unfamiliar with.

Mr. F: So, it's basically like a horse...walking around in a rectangle.
Me: Oh! You mean dressage.
Mr. F: I can't believe you know that. *facepalm*

And I didn't know, but apparently he thought it was hilariously geeky of me to know immediately what he was talking about and also actually know the name of the sport. So tonight, we were hanging out with my brother and I overhear Mr. F starting to tell this story, making fun of what an enormous geek I am.

Mr. F: *mockingly* So, I'm telling her that it's bascially like a horse just walking around a rectangle--
Steve: Oh! You mean dressage.
Mr. F: ... *headdesk*

LOL! Poor Mr. F, surrounded by geeks.

Sickness: Not Just for Mornings!

Urgh. It has finally started in earnest these last few days, as my books promised it would. Only I'm not having morning sickness so much as what the books have declared "food aversion." What this means for me is that, despite the fact that I'm starving, that my stomach is loudly demanding food, Peanut is having none of it. There is no food that sounds even remotely appetizing.

And then when I can finally talk Peanut into eating something, I get maybe two bites in and it's suddenly as if I've eaten a cannonball. Whatever thing I've negotiated with Peanut for - and let me tell you, Peanut has agreed to some weird things that I never would've guessed would be okay - sits heavily in my stomach before sending scouts crawling back up my throat and I sit there nauseous and regretting having wheedled Peanut into it.

The things you'd think Peanut and I could agree on - a cracker, sip of milk, gentle, innocuous foods - no dice. Plain, bland foods don't sound good to either of us. Some things just the thought of eating will make me nauseous. It's hard to stick to the high-protein, low-carb diet I'm supposed to follow as a gastric bypass patient. So there's a lot of times I'll consider eating things that I normally wouldn't. Sometimes it goes like this:

• Me: *rummaging through kitchen, giving long list of options to Peanut*
• Peanut: No, no and no.
• Me: Okay, how about...a potato chip?
• Peanut: No.
• Me: Peice of cheese?
• Peanut: No.
• Me: *stares forlornly at kitchen*
• Peanut: How about those Cheetos there?
• Me: Seriously?
• Peanut: Is there any ice cream?
• Me: Sigh.

And it doesn't help that Peanut keeps tricking me into eating things only to reject them later. We've had a lot of conversations like this:

• Me: *rummaging through kitchen* How about...a cracker?
• Peanut: No.
• Me: Hmm. Slice of ham? Toast?
• Peanut: No and no.
• Me: Peanut butter?
• Peanut: ...
• Me: Sorry. Um, how about some chees-
• Peanut: GOD, no.
• Me: Okay, how about this other kind of cheese?
• Peanut: Yes.
• Me: Oka-Really? All right! *nom nom nom*
• Peanut: Just kidding!
• Me: *is queasy*
• Peanut: *gleefully evil cackle*
• Me: Sigh.

Do you know what I have eaten today? French fries. Yep. That's it. It was the only thing I could talk Peanut into and there was still some debate about it after the fact, but at least it was something. I couldn't even bring myself to have my usual protein shake today, which has almost always been okay with Peanut. At this rate, I don't think I need to worry about gaining too much weight during the first trimester - I'll be lucky if it's any.

Also, I continue to get dizzy literally every time I stand up. I keep forgetting that it's going to happen and so I'll be up out of my chair halfway on my way to whatever I'm doing when all of a sudden, whoa and I have to grab on to something. The books promise me this is also normal, although I wouldn't be surprised if my lack of food and my sometime-anemia are contributing.

In the good news category, the pimples have, for the most part, disappeared from my forehead. Unfortunately, they seem to have migrated to my neck. This is highly disturbing and I feel like everywhere I go, people are staring at my pox-ridden neck. Mr. F does his best to assure me that nobody but me even notices, but conversations like this don't do a lot to help my confidence:

• Me: *frantically examining neck in mirror* Honey, look at this! It's getting worse. Do you think it's getting worse? I think it's getting worse.
• Mr. Fantastic: *soothingly* No, not at all, sweetie, it's-OH MY GOD. Er, I mean...
• Me: *despairs*

That just happened the one time, though. Now, despite whatever ailment I'm moaning about, Mr. F has learned to tell me I'm wonderful and beautiful and he loves me. Sometimes he will add an offer to go get me something to eat. Smart man.

Luckily, I see my surgeon on soon to discuss diet and how to get enough protein and calories in to make sure Peanut is doing ok. And I see the OBGYN next week - looking forward to that, as it's my first ultrasound and we may be able to hear the heartbeat. Yay!

Vegas!

Hokay! Mr. F and I are off to Las Vegas this afternoon. YAY! Looking forward to some quality pool time at the MGM and playing some poker.

We'll be back late Sunday night, but then we're up early Monday to spend the day at Water World for my neice's birthday. So I'm offline until Tuesday. Have a great week(end)! *kisses*

Vacation! All I ever wanted...

So, little after-misadventure notwithstanding, our vacation to Mexico was lovely. We went to Puerto Vallarta and the hotel was beautiful (if under construction, and believe you me, our travel agent and everyone else in the world that I can think of is going to hear about that) and the weather...oh, the weather. Was fabulous. Beautiful, beautiful mid-70s, warm breezes and so humid. I had the softest skin ever there. Of course, now we're back to Colorado, I have turned into a raisin. I may have to flee back to more humid climes in self-defense.

Anyhoo, it was all very romantic and warm and I wore a big floppy fabulous hat a lot of the time and no makeup and felt very beautiful. And it really was so wonderful to spend so much time with Mr. Fantastic, just doing whatever, wandering on the beach and frolicking and whatnot. We did a lot of laying around - at the pool, on the beach, in the hot tub, etc, although I did force him into a Canopy Tour one day and a "Snorkel Adventure" another day, both of which wore us out and made us decide that while they were fun, next vacation we're literally doing nothing.

The first night we were there we walked on the beach at night like sappy romantic fools and listened to the waves and looked at the stars - oh, the stars. Well, aside from them being all wonky and backwards and upside down (took us three days to find the big dipper!) the stars were so close and huge and bright. That first night, we sat tangled up on an abandoned beach chair and drank our Corona Lights with lime (because we are ever mindful of our figures, damn the taste) and snuggled and kissed and talked softly and I wanted to cry it was so damn sweet. And as we were sitting there, all by ourselves in the night, out of nowhere there came fireworks. Fireworks! I - well, I have no words. Fireworks, just for us! I am a huge sucker for fireworks - god you should see me on the 4th of July, I'm such a patriotic sap for things that go boom - so you can imagine the look of childlike glee on my face as I sat there on a warm beach in Mexico, snuggled up with my honey watching our own fireworks display reflect off the water. It was like my own personal Say Anything moment. I nearly cried, you should ask Mr. F. God, I'm such a girl but it was awesome. I think my favorite moment from the whole trip. And well, of course you know I fell a little bit more in love with Mr. F right then, like he's the one who made the fireworks. Maybe he did.

Sunday we went to a restaurant called PiPi's, recommended by my friend Kathy, whose daughter lives in PV (that's what they call it, don't'cha know). Great food - they make the guacamole at your table to your taste and my god, it was good. I didn't even need to eat anything else. And Mr. F and I shared the world's largest margarita, although I think Mr. F got the lion's share by dint of it being too heavy for me to hold. Oh, and then on the way home, we missed our bus stop or something and it resulted in me using my high school Spanish to rescue us. I think Mr. F was suitably impressed at how much Spanish I've actually retained. Good on you, Senora Palabra!

On Monday we went on a Canopy Tour, otherwise known as the Zip Line, which is something I've wanted to do for ages. (Okay, something I've wanted to do ever since I saw it on The Amazing Race, shut up.) Anyway, it was totally cool! And kind of funny, since I'm afraid of heights - but I was so psyched to do this, I never even thought twice about the heights. There was more hiking involved than I had thought about but made sense once we got started. You'd hike up a little trail, clip on the the line and zzzzipp across the way, then hike a little trail to the next platform. Eventually we started going downhill to the next platform so it got easier toward the end. It was absolutely beautiful and exhilarating and I'm thrilled we did it. Plus, a year ago, this is something I physically wouldn't have been able to do - wouldn't have been able to take the hiking, would've been too heavy for the zip line - so it was really kind of a milestone for me.

Monday night we went to our "fancy" dinner - got all dressed up and everything. Had absolutely excellent food at the hotel next door. Mr. F and I decided we should just always share filet mignon and scallops and never eat anything else. Yum.

On Tuesday, we went on what we thought was going to be a snorkeling trip but which turned out to be more of a booze cruise. Eh. It was fun, once we realized that the 20 minutes of snorkeling in cloudy water was all the snorkeling there was going to be. We'd really love to actually snorkel some time, but I guess the Pacific side of Mexico isn't known for that - you're better off on the Gulf side. It was a really great boat ride, and we even saw some whales and dolphins while we were out. The boat - I have no idea what kind it was - had these little net thingies at the front where you could sit and sort of ride over the water, and Mr. F was eventually able to convince me to sit in it with him. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get back out of it once I got in! Well, I got out, but not gracefully. It was a long day in the sun and Mr. F's shins got pretty badly sunburned but it was a good time. I think next time, we'll skip that one. Also, when I jumped off the boat, I hit my big toe on something and it chipped my pedicure and is still a nasty black-and-blue.

Wednesday we spent mostly at the pool and ate lunch at the swim up bar, which I had been dying to do. I enjoyed it, although eating while sitting waist-deep in warm water mostly just made me have to pee. That was a really nice, relaxing day and I think next vacation, we plan to do more of that sort of thing as opposed to booze-cruising and zipping through the jungle. Mr. Fantastic lived up to his name and was fantastic about doing whatever I wanted. Tottenham was playing in the FA cup Sunday night and he went out to dinner with no complaint even though he would have a thousand times rather stayed at the hotel and watch the game. I still feel kind of bad about that, especially since they won and he had to miss it.

In all, it was a really great time and I'm so glad we got to spend it together, just the two of us. So often our vacations involve a whole bunch of other people and we don't get time to be sappy and romantic and walk on the beach and make me feel twenty again. And I forget that it's not just me that's the sappy romantic one. That it's Mr. F who wants to sit in the hot tub together and watch the sun set. Do you know, everywhere we went, people asked us if we were on our honeymoon? They kept saying how happy I looked. Maybe that's just a thing they say there to all the couples, but I felt like we were on our honeymoon. All giggly and hand-holdy and just...you know.

Oh, here. Stop rolling your eyes at me and go look at the pictures.

From the Conversations with Mr. Fantastic Files

So, Mr. F DVRs Sky Sports News for all the footie updates. While it's mostly soccer news, they always have other stuff like cricket and darts. Tonight, he was fast forwarding through the boring stuff (read = not soccer) that he doesn't want to watch.

Mr. F: *fast forwards* Tennis...gay...horse racing...gay...
Me: Hey, isn't that the sport of kings?
Mr. F: Yeah...Gay kings.

God, he makes me laugh.

From the Conversations with Mr. Fantastic Files:

Mr. Fantastic: You can't die, I haven't increased your life insurance yet.
Me: ...
Mr. F: That didn't come out right.

Oh honey. It's a good thing you're cute.

From the Conversations with Mr. Fantastic Files:

Mr. Fantastic: *pointing at the t.v.* Hey, you have one of those things!
Me: *looking up from laptop* Hm? One of what things?
Mr. F: One of those things that goes across the table but doesn't really do anything.
Me: ...a table runner?
Mr. F: Is that what they're called?

~

(on the phone )
Me: Whatcha doing?
Mr F: Watching Donna play Italy.
Me: What?
Mr F: I'm watching Donna play Italy.
Me: Who?
Mr F: Italy.
Mr F: No, I know, but what did you say?
Mr F: [loud] IT-A-LY. You know, boot shaped country?
Me: ... [rolling eyes] Yes, I got that, but who else?
Mr F: GHA-NA. Little country in Africa?
Me: Oh, Ghana. I thought you said Donna. I was picturing a little girl taking on all of Italy.
Mr F: ...

~

Mr. Fantastic is watching some show on the National Geographic channel about some guys who got attacked by a bear (because that's the kind of geek HE is). And these two guys are like hiking along a river or lake or something, looking for help, and the very first boat they run into had both a doctor and a policeman on it.

Mr. F: Wow, that was lucky!
Me: *surfing 'net* Hmm, what?
Mr. F: blah blah attacked by bear blah blah boat doctor policeman.
Me: Oh, wow, that is lucky!
Mr. F: Yeah, you know, with my luck, the first boat I'd find would have a stripper and a clown on it.
Me: ... *collapses in helpless laughter*

~

Mr.F called me at work and we had the following conversation:

Me: Hello?
Mr.F: Hi. Whatcha doin'?
Me: Working. What're you up to?
Mr.F: Trying to fix lunch. Have you seen my burrito?
Me: ...What?
Mr.F: My burrito. I lost it.
Me: ...A...frozen?...burrito?
Mr.F: Yeah, I bought one and now I can't find it.
Me: ...You...lost...a burrito?
Mr.F: Yeah, I wanted it for lunch but I lost it.
Me ...
Mr.F: Have you seen it?
Me: ...Did you look in the freezer?
Mr.F: [excited] Why, did you see it in there?
Me: ...No, but that's probably where it would be.
Mr.F: So you haven't seen it.
Me: No. Maybe you ate it already.
Mr.F: No, I would know if I ate it already. The cheese dip hasn't been opened yet.
Me: ...
(At this point, I realize that we have both an unopened cheese dip in the cupboard, and also an open cheese dip in the fridge, so he probably did eat it already. But I am trying to work here, so I wisely decline to bring this up. And I also laugh to myself that the way he knows he hasn't eaten his burrito yet is dependent on the presence of unopened cheese dip and not the presence of [or lack thereof] the actual burrito itself.)

Mr.F: So, you haven't seen it?
Me: No, honey, I'm sorry. I don't know where it is.
Mr.F: [sad] Darn. I lost my burrito.
Me: [soothing] I'm sorry you lost your burrito, honey.

~
God, he makes me laugh. ♥

State of the weight

La la, time to talk about my weight some more. As of today I've lost 85 pounds. Yay!

That puts me 65% of the way to my goal. Ideally, I'd like to lose another 45, but it can take up to two years to get all the way to goal. Plus, I plan on getting pregnant as soon as Dr. Snyder says it's okay, which is a year after surgery. So it may be some time before I'm all the way there. At a year out, which is April 3, the surgeon's goal is for me to be anywhere from 70-85% of the way, or around 155 at 85%. That means I've got 13 weeks to lose 25 pounds. Think I can do it? For the last three months, I've averaged about 1.2 pounds a week. But half that time I wasn't exercising. So if I'm really good and go to the gym three times a week religiously and get back to the rules of my eating plan, I think it's doable.

Also, as part of the returning-things-after Christmas spree, I exchanged something I got for a new pair of jeans. In a size 16! HOORAY! Mr. Fantastic didn't understand why I was so excited about it so I had to explain that 16 is the top end of the non-plus sizes, and it sort of marks the start of the transition from fat girl to normal-size. And he was like, "Oh! Well, welcome to regular-girl pants!"

plague

Urgh. Still plaguey. mckays_girl mother-henned me into going to the doctor today, which I did, and am now armed with $40 cough medicine and instructions to get plenty of fluids and rest. Hopefully the heavy-duty cough medicine will help with the resting part and I will soon stop sounding like Suzanne Pleshette.

Mr. Fantastic brought me soup for dinner and let me watch Pushing Daisies before he watched the Tottenham match. What a sweetie.

Various and sundry

You want to know just how fantastic Mr. Fantastic is? Unprompted, he DVR’d the Spelling Bee for me. That’s love, man. Or at least, that’s knowing exactly how big a geek I am. And still loving me anyway.

Speaking of Mr. F loving me…do you know how much better sex is after you’ve lost 40 pounds? LOTS. The difference is all on my end – things feel different physically and I feel different mentally and in general the whole thing is way more fun. However, showing up at your 9 a.m. meeting sporting beard burn and bite marks may be slightly unprofessional. If I’d also been drunk it would’ve been just like college.

Speaking of sex…due to my surgery, I’m not allowed to get pregnant until next year. And my surgeon does not recommend that I take the Pill because in some people it doesn’t absorb as well as it should. So at my annual exam yesterday, I got a new form of birth control: the patch. I’m Paris Hilton! Except for the jail thing. So, anybody have any feedback about the patch? The doctor gave me a sample to try for a month to see if it’s what I want to use, but I’d love to hear from you all.

Also, apparently, it’s Blog Like It’s the End of the World Day. Um. So, eek, zombies are eating my cube neighbor and I fear I’m next. At least I got laid this morning.