I'm a Believer!

A friend was nice enough to alert me to a couple consignment sales happening in Richmond this week and next.  Since operation Never Pay Full Price For Baby Clothes is underway, I was SO excited for the sale tonight.  Josh and I attended the preview for new and expecting moms - the sale doesn't start for the general public until Friday.  Having never been to a consignment sale before, we have no idea what to expect.  OH MY GOODNESS.  There was a line of 50+ people when we got there at 6:00 pm.  By the time we parked the line was moving, and we were inside in no time.  We were immediately overwhelmed by the amount of STUFF.  Books, toys, shoes, backpacks, and the CLOTHES.  I can't even tell you how many clothes there were.

We were grossly unprepared for the experience.  We didn't have a bag.  We didn't bring enough money.  I didn't wear a tank top (it was 800 degrees in there).  I didn't bring my camera.  And I didn't bring my phone.  The phone part was especially stupid considering I was planning to catch-up with a couple girlfriends.  By the time we were ready to leave, it was PACKED.  We walked through the crowds and didn't see any familiar faces, so we booked it out of there.  Did I mention it was 800 degrees inside?  Sweat was rolling down the side of my face and down, er, other places.  And I had to pee like WHOA. 

We spent $65.  We got four books and two wooden puzzle games.  We also got a slew of clothing.  Five button-up shirts.  Two pairs of corduroys. Two pairs of jeans.  One pair of khakis. One long-sleeved onsie and matching overalls. Two sweater vests.  Two sweaters.  And one hooded fleece.  We have a ton of 0 to 6 months clothes, so we concentrated on getting 6 to 12 months clothes.  And we wanted to snag the types of clothes that we wouldn't normally buy ourselves (read: expensive and nice).  

In the pile is a pair of Calvin Klein jeans.  A Gymboree button-up that still had the tags on it.  Baby Gap items.  Children's Place, Oshkosh B'Gosh, and IZOD are also represented.   All of the for $52. 

Um, SWOON!  The sweater vest is actually red - the light makes it look orange (it's nighttime and I was using artificial light and no flash - it happens). 

We're already talking about next year's sale.  I'll still be considered a "new mom" so I'll be able to partake in the preview sale.  Next year, however, we will go prepared.  We'll take much more money.  We'll take bags (we have Ikea bags that would be PERFECT).  And we'll leave L Bean with Grammy.  Divide and conquer is our game plan.  We're pumped.  A google reminder has been set-up.  Oh yes, we're THAT excited.

Husband's allergies are flaring-up, so we stopped-by Rite-Aid on the way home to pick-up some medicine.  While we were there, we also grabbed some diapers (we try to grab a pack of diapers whenever we're at a store that sells them in a effort to spread-out the expense.  And don't worry, we're not buying newborn diapers).  We also grabbed some snacks for Husband's hospital bag. 

When we got home, Husband installed our car seats bases.  It was easy peasy.  Both of our cars have a strap specifically designed for a car seat, which is nice.  Husband has informed me that it's called a "latch strap."  Whatever the name, it made the task easier than we taught it would be. 

Since it's important, he read the directions. 

Voila!

The babies watched-on wondering why they couldn't get in the car to go "bye-bye."   The pictures aren't the clearest of the bunch that I took, but they're my favorites for some reason.

Fiona Update and Actual Baby Stuff

I’m going to actually write about something baby-related today, after I update you on Fiona’s condition, of course.

She’s spending the day with her Auntie Sarah, who generously offered to watch/love Fiona for the day. We will not doubt get-back a very sleepy Fiona this evening, which means she’ll sleep through the night (and so will I). I received the cutest picture of F sitting atop her pillow throne on the couch while Sarah’s dog Talbot delivers her very best stank eye. F and T are typical female-dominant characters, so it’s always interesting to see who wins. Usually it’s Talbot since her morning poop weighs more than Fiona, but I have a feeling F may be today’s champion. You know, it’s the cone, the icky eyes, and that sad face that only an ailing 10 pound dog can deliver. Today, the game is mental.

Okay, now on to baby stuff. You know, the reason I created this blog in the first place.

We had an appointment with Doc last Friday morning. The plan was the do the usual and then do a 3-D (or is it 4-D?) ultrasound. Being the stubborn kid that he is (he’s already taking after his mother; if that’s the case, we are in TROUBLE), he kept his face covered the whole time. Jerk. He’s not shy about his little boy bits, but he’s apparently not ready to flash us his mug.

Back-up. What’s “the usual?” It consists of: (1) Pee in a cup. (2) Get weighed (sad face). Every time I ask Mr. H very nicely to please not look. Every time he looks. Best husband ever. (3) Blood pressure. (4) How are you feeling? (5) Any questions? (6) Wanna see your baby! HECK YES! Quickie ultrasound. (7) Set-up next appointment. (8) Pee in the bathroom in the hallway because it’s been 10+ minutes at this point.

When the nurse took my blood pressure, we were discussing something that got me excited (it had something to do with boobs, that’s all I’m going to tell you), and my BP was higher than usual. She came back at the end of the appointment to re-take. Back to normal. Phew. I was a little nervous when she took my BP the second time, so I was worried it would be high again. High BP at this point is an eye-brow raiser, and I like Doc’s eye-brows right where they are, thank you.

Doc switched-back to the regular ultrasound, and he took some measurements. It was a toss-up between almost vomiting and almost passing out when Doc measured his head. On the day of the appointment, I was 29 weeks, four days. L Bean’s head measured 33 weeks, 4 days (and my lady bits shudder). Doc measured other things like “the belly of the beast” and his spine, which both measured just a little big. Doc estimated his weight to be 3 pounds, 9 ounces. The caveat with ultrasound weight estimates – they’re always wrong. Let’s say the estimates are +/- 8 ounces (or a half pound). General estimates for a baby at 29 weeks is about 2 and a half pounds. So he’s measuring a little big all around. No surprise here (have I mentioned before that Josh was 8 pounds FOUR WEEKS EARLY? And he’s also 6’4”. Add that to my 5’9’ and 7 pounds, 8 ounces two weeks early). Keep-on growing, kiddo! Just remember that you have (yes, I am putting my foot down for the first time as your mother) to exit via my vajayjay, so don’t go too crazy.

I also asked what position L Bean was in because sometimes it literally feels like he’s laying horizontally. He’s head-down, and I’ve politely asking him to stay that way. So what I thought was his head pushing out against my belly button must be his butt. He’s not kicking my bladder, he’s punching it. And he’s not trying to stick a foot out of my vagina, he just has sweaty balms that need some air.

We started our childbirth class last week. Mr. H almost fell asleep during the first hour, as the Nurse Lady went through the class syllabus in DETAIL and depicted my cervix as a budding rose and contractions like waves in an ocean. Mr. H got to practice relaxation/touch techniques on me for 15+ minutes. Meaning, I got a 15+ minute massage without having to ask. SCORE. His night was made when Nurse Lady told us to switch places, and Mr. H got a 5 minutes rub down of his own. We’ve been instructed to bring loads of pillows and two towels to tomorrow’s class. As long as Nurse Lady doesn’t have me hee-hee-hoooooing, we’ll be good. Oh, and we get to watch the video. You know, THAT video. I can’t wait for the awkward, heavy silence that will undoubtedly overtake the class (all ten of us). I’m going to bring my camera tomorrow. Hopefully I can sneak a few pictures of the experience.

Vet, Pet, and Eye Guy Adventures

Okay, so I lied about the “getting back on the wagon” thing. We will probably be a little Fiona side-tracked this week as well.

We woke-up this morning, and Fiona was looking a little worse than she had the past couple of days. I knew in my heart that something still wasn’t right, and she needed more doctor attention. Plus, my nerves were shot, and I needed a doctor to see my baby girl and either tell me, (a) She looks good, progressing like she should be, or (b) We need to do something different/more because she still looks wrecked. I came to work this morning with plans to call the vet’s office when they opened at 7:30 am and request an appointment asap. I was hoping to get in early so we would have time to see a specialist today, if it came to that. They could fit us in at 8:20 am, LOVE THEM. I sent a few pertinent emails, and then I rushed home to grab Fiona and hurry to the vet.

When I open the door, I see a bloodied Fiona, and I LOOSE it. I lost control of the emotions I had been trying to keep a lid on for a week now. She somehow managed to Houdini around her cone and break-open her left eye lid (which is three times its normal size these days). When I really think about it, I don’t think she was able to access her eye with one of her paws. I think she ran into something or scraped her face on a pillow while jumping onto the couch. Something like that. She didn’t bark when I got home and unlocked the door, so I knew something was up. Knowing isn’t the same as KNOWING (read: seeing). Bring on the waterworks. My first real pregnant cry (I’m not counting commercials, tv shows, and movies) - Holy hormones.

I didn’t have time to wipe her eye and the fur around her eye, but I knew Vet Lady would do it (she had lots of crusties that needed to the wiped away). We hop in the car, and I call Mr. H. He picks-up, and I bawl. After a fairly incoherent conversation where he asked, “Are you okay?” And I respond, “No, I am not okay. I am NOT OKAY,” I hang up and try to collect myself for the Vet Lady. I managed fairly well, that is until I opened the vet office’s front door. Fiona recognized the smell (and the pain she had experienced there twice last week), and she started to shake VIOLENTLY. Cue breakdown numero dos. I said little to the receptionists because I knew more than I word or two at a time would release a fury of emotions. I had to pee, so I took Fiona into the bathroom, where she huddled close to the legs/feet and shook. There went my chances to recover gracefully in the privacy of the bathroom. I say zero to the technician in the exam room as she weighed Fiona and took her temperature (normal, a good sign) for the same reason mentioned above.

We’re left alone in quiet for a few minutes. Usually they don’t close the exam room door during the exams, but the technician was smart enough to shut it nice and tight when she walked-in and when she left. In walks Vet Lady, and I LOOSE IT. Really loose it this time. The entire time Vet Lady looked like she wanted to give me a hug, which I would have gladly accepted. I turned my back so I couldn’t see Fiona shaking like a leaf, bloody, and looking smaller than usual on the exam table. Vet Lady takes her into the back to clean her up and assess the situation. Five minutes later she comes back and says she called an eye specialist, and he can fit me in right now if we have the time. YES, we have the time. Vet Lady informs that she’s here all weekend if we need her, don’t worry about anything for this visit (as in you don’t have to pay for a thing), just take Fiona and go to the Eye Guy. I could have hugged her.

We scurry out the front door and b-line it for the grass so Fiona can do her business, which she does proficiently because she’s a champion marker and there was A LOT of unfamiliar pee spots in that small patch of grass. Ring, ring - it’s my mom calling my cell phone (what is it about moms and their perfect timing? It’s creepy). I contemplated not answering because I knew what would happen if I did. I answered, and I BAWLED (just as I expected). We hop in the car and head to the Eye Guy, which was only a few miles away (NICE). I hang-up with Mom and try, once again, to collect myself. We arrive at the eye office, and the two receptionists are total Bs. A complete 180 from the nice, concerned, pet-loving receptionists at our vet. I wanted to yell at them, “DO YOU EVEN OWN A DOG!?!?!” Fiona and I cower from the Evil Bs in a corner, and wait.

We’re ushered into an exam room by B #1, and we meet the Eye Guy two minutes later. Nicest guy ever. He takes a look at Fiona with his fancy eye instruments, and steps back to explain to me exactly what he sees in detail. Not only did he take the time to explain, but he graciously and gently fielded all of my questions. He also took the time to type-up his diagnosis and our discussion, which appeared on our invoice (um, awesome idea considering (1) I have pregnancy brain and can’t remember a thing, and (2) I was concentrating so hard on NOT crying that I hardly heard a word he said). She has severe inflammation likely caused by toxins on the eyelids or in the eyes (stupid phantom snake), which has been exacerbated by Fiona scratching her eyes. There’s a real word for it (starts with a B), I just wanted remember it, and I’m too lazy to look at the invoice. He prescribed more of the pill she has been taking, a new (amped-up) eye drop, and an additional antibiotic in pill form. He explained that she will take WEEKS (three to four) for Fiona to really start looking like herself. And he said this kind of thing needs to be treated for a few weeks because it’ll flare right back up if treatment is for only a couple weeks. But he did say that there should be a noticeable difference by the weekend.

All of that from Eye Guy, and it only cost $170. I have to say that I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how inexpensive this ordeal has been. We’ve paid much less than we expected, which has been nice.

After a few “awwww’s” from people in the waiting room (that’s right Evil Bs, my dog is cute, adorable, and WRECKED, and you would have noticed that if your heart wasn’t BLACK and FROZEN), Fiona and I head home with our new medicine bounty. F is panting and exhausted, which I am hoping will be to her benefit (read: she’ll sleep all afternoon instead of claw at her eyes). I have to go back to work, so I have a quiet conversation with F where I ask her nicely to leave her eyes alone. I came back at lunch to check-on the patient, and I open the door and say, “NO BLOOD!” to my step mom who is on the phone. And she barked when I got home, a good sign.

I am cautiously optimistic, although I am trying desperately to have 100% Faith. I hope to see a sleepy, non-bloodied Fiona when I get home from work today. Pray for her? And selfishly, pray for me and my sanity (all of this worrying, freaking out, crying, bawling, and not sleeping can’t be good for L Bean). I’m ready to turn a corner - a big fat happy, healthy corner.

P.S. - sorry about the length.  The story required details, and I looooove details (obvi).

A Non 4th Weekend

We didn't do a lot of 4th of July related activities this weekend, even though we had a few fun things planned.  We aborted all such plans when we realized that Fiona needed constant vigilance (read: I just couldn't leave her).  We finally found a cone that works, but she'd already had a few days to do damage.  Although she may be headed in the right direction, her progress has been MUCH slower than my sanity can handle.  The cone brings me some comfort, but you know what will really bring me comfort?  Her being back to normal.  Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Anyway, we took advantage of our self-imposed lock-in and got A LOT done around the house.  Warning: This is a picture-heavy post. 

12 hours after we first put on the cone.  She's accepted to its presence.  Both of the dogs are REALLY tired because I was home much of the week, and I totally messed-up their daytime nap schedule.

Mr. H giving F some love on her level.

This is my thought: be as organized and cleaned-out as possible because with baby comes lots and lots of stuff.  I packed-away the kitchen items that we don't use on a regular basis.  We now have free space in the kitchen cabinets, ready to be filled with sippy cups and kids silverware.  I even created a kid-friendly (read: tupperware filled) lower cabinet for when baby proofing becomes necessary.

I cleaned-out and organized our pantry.  Mr. H and I are on a mission to be less wasteful when it comes to food.  So far we've been fairly successful.  At the end of the week, when we're in need of the next grocery shopping trip, our pantry looks bare.  Have you tried the new Artisan Triscuits? HEAVENLY.

I cleaned-out and organized the spice cabinet and baking cabinets.  Like our fancy new pot rack?  We got it at Ikea for $25 plus 3 packs of hooks for $3 each.  The pot racks at Lowe's are $150+.  Score!  And I can't tell you how much cabinet space it has created.  It'll look even better when our counters are black granite, and we upgrade our appliances.  All in due time.

On a painting break, Josh played hide-and-seek with L Bean.

And he got some Fiona cone love.

While Henrik watched-on and got jealous.  As much as we've tried to spread the attention wealth this weekend, Fiona has definitely gotten more and poor Henrik is feeling a little left out.  Although, he does seem relieved to not be wearing a cone.

Josh painted the master bathroom.  Goodbye bright yellow!  You will NOT be missed.  I kept hearing, "Morons.  So stupid. LAZY!"  Apparently, the previous owners (1) didn't know how to paint and (2) were too lazy to tape-off most of the rooms.  The moldings, base boards, ceilings, door frames, face plates, etc. all over the hours are covered with paint.  Added to the list of eventuals:  Re-paint all trims and ceilings.  Awesome.

He also painted the office, which was a baby's room for the previous owners.  Below the chair-rail were vertical stripes of satin and ultra glossy paint.  Josh was cursing the previous owners are he sanded the ultra glossy stripes. Goodbye baby blue!  You will also NOT be missed.

The color is "rugged suede."  It's a dark grayish brownish, but I just see brown.  MORE BROWN!  We do love our shades of brown.

I baked cookies.  I have a feeling this will happen a lot over the next two months.

I organised the hand-me-down clothes we've received and the few new clothes that we've purchased into the drawers.  I got a distinct feeling of, "OMW, this is really happening" while I was organizing.

Snugglesaurus.

The 3 to 6 month drawer.

I stocked the changing table basket with a few items.

And I put-away some hand-me-down and new blankets, burp rags, and bibs.

Our house is also spotless, as I spent free seconds grazing and cleaning.  And all the laundry is done.  Suffice to say, we're beat. 

We don't have many things left before Don (and maybe Lindsay!) come to the house for our maternity session on the 27th.  The cradle (we're using the cradle my brother and I used when we were babies) needs to be sanded, put back together, and stained.  I need to make L Bean's mobile (shopping trip for fabric and supplies will hopefully take place this week/weekend).  We need to finish the magnetized chalkboard in L Bean's room.  I just consulted Mr. H, and those are the big things remaining.  In terms of general baby prep, we're more than on-track.  I need to start pulling together a list of things I want to pack for the hospital.  We need to make a labor mix.  I have to buy a few things for the hospital - big pajamas, a robe, a few comfortable nursing bras, etc.  

Did I mentioned that we FINALLY got a kitchen table? Finally.  $125 on craigslist.com. That's right.  It's in perfect condition.  The couple who sold it to us were getting married (this weekend!), and she was moving her stuff in to his condominium.  Of course the guys stuff had to go, duh. Our gain, big time.  

Do you like how I managed to get all four animals in the post?  The cats were an unplanned surprise.

I've been a little Fiona-consume, so posts have been non-existent, and we missed the 29-week bump picture.  Tomorrow is 30 weeks (DO WHAT?!?!), and we're getting back on the wagon.

My poor, sweet Princess.

This week I've gotten a taste of what it will be like to have a sick and hurting baby/kid.  In a word: HEARTBREAKING.  It's also panic-inducing.  My sweet princess, Fiona, has been sick.   To make a very long story short, the vet thinks Fiona was bitten by a snake on her cheek.  WHAT?!?!  When, how?  We'll never know.  The treatment prescribed on Monday was stopped, and a new, more aggressive approach was taken today.  We hope to wake-up tomorrow morning to a Fiona that's beginning to feel better. 

The past three days have been awful.  Some of you may be thinking, "It's just a dog, Betsy!."  Our pets are our kids.  And look at that face.  Now imagine her eyes swollen, red, pussing, and bleeding.  No way you're thinking, "It's just a dog," now.  That's my BABY.

Fiona's wind-blown look in the backseat.

If watching my dog be sick and in pain has been THIS hard, I can't even imagine what it will be like to have a sick human baby (we affectionately refer to our pets as our "babies").   Something about this seems much harder because she so small.  Real babies are small.  She's also cute as a button usually, and a total charmer.  Obviously we won't know for a couple months (yes, I said a COUPLE months. Not a few, not several, a COUPLE), but I like to think L Bean will be cute as a button and adept at laying-down the charm.  

Josh said to me this morning (via text after I had burst into tears), "Be strong for our baby."  But it's HARD.  I'm totally going to be the mom that cries when my baby gets shots.  Maybe he'll be a total champ and not even flinch.  I still think think I'll cry.  And that first fever?  Oh man.  We'll cross that bridge when it gets here.

Keep Fiona in your prayers.  I'm ready to get my sweet girl back.

It's Liam's furniture, and I helped!!

Well, I didn't help that much. Josh's mom came over to help lift and heave the boxes upstairs. She also hung-around long enough to help make our little man's bed. So cool. Here are some pictures that I snapped while everyone else as doing all the hard work (I WAS awfully encouraging, so I like to think that I did my part).

The furniture was packaged amazingly well - unfortunately, this meant they were also amazingly heavy.

The babies and I "encouraging."

All boxed-up and no where to go.

Josh said, "Fiona, I appreciate you trying to help, but you're making this VERY difficult."

Most handsome husband EVER.  He put the glider and ottoman together first and then MADE me sit.  I'm a lucky lady.

The babies LOVE their Coco!

 
Here is the finished product.  Right now there's only furniture in the room.  While the furniture is BEAUTIFUL, and I LOVE his bedding, the room looks a little sad right now.  It's screaming for pictures and DIY projects.  We have some pretty awesome ideas that have us wanting to work-on everything RIGHT NOW.  I'll update as we begin and complete some of the planned projects.
 
 

And just for fun, here's a picture of the babies saying, "Whatcha doing, Moooom?".  Henrik was surprisingly brave with the HUGE boxes and new additions to the room.  Fiona, as usual, just bounced happily from person to person as we moved in and out of the room. 

He really doesn't hate you, he just doesn't like you yet

Have you met our cocker spaniel, Henrik? If you know him, then you know that he’s sweet, cuddly, loving, and quite adept at fetching and catching. If you don’t know him, then he seems anxious and untrusting. If you walk into our house with something large (okay, who am I kidding – the object could be large or small) in your hands, your chances of forming a bond with H drastically plummet. If you make any sudden or major movements or gestures or do anything loudly during that crucial first meeting, then your chances of a bond are next to zero. He remembers. EVERYTHING. Seriously though, he really is the best dog (said the totally unbiased party). Ever. He just happens to believe that trust is earned, not automatically provided. I can’t say that I disagree.

Today, I ordered something that I think will save H’s sanity (and ours). It’s called Baby Sounds for Pets, and it’s a CD full of baby sounds from baby talk to baby temper tantrums. To explain just how significant this CD is, let me tell you a little story:

The day we found-out we were having a boy was the day after Tax Day, and my mom and I were meeting for celebratory manicures. After our manis, we hopped over to the mall so Nana (this name is subject to change. My mom is still working-out what she wants to be called. I told her it’ll just come to her the first time she meets Liam and says, “Hi, Liam, it’s your ____.”) could buy Liam a few things. One of the things she purchased was a set of four small, stuffed sports balls (baseball, soccer ball, etc.) that came in a small, soft-sided case with handles. Each ball is less than three inches in diameter, so the case is no more than a foot long. Small and unobtrusive. Well, H HATES the case and the balls, together or separate. It probably doesn’t help that the balls make a “boing yoing yoing” sound when hit or dropped. We discovered his aversion when I was playing show-and-tell with Josh. H didn’t react to the blankets or the burp rags, but the second that case came into view he was GONE (and by gone I mean, scampered away then promptly came right back into view and paced because (a) he wants to make sure scary object doesn’t get us or (b) he likes to be within eye-shot of us and his sister, Fiona, at all times). Over the next few days, we would occasionally put the case somewhere in the family room to get him adjusted. We haven’t done this in weeks, but I am willing to bet that we’re still in the adjusting phase.

Now you know why the baby sounds CD will be playing non-stop, quietly at first and then gradually louder, until Liam’s arrival.

Side note: The wonderful and talented Don Mears is coming to our house in July for a maternity session. Since we would really like our dogs to be in a few pictures, Josh and I have devised a plan to (hopefully) shorten H’s adjustment period to Don (and maybe Lindsay, his wonderful and talented wife). H seems to react better when we go out first and then come back with the strangers. Any chance of a friendship will be quickly bashed if Don enters the house with his arms and shoulders full of camera equipment, so Josh and I will carry-in his equipment. We haven’t told Don our plan yet, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to laugh, A LOT. I’m also pretty sure our plan will work (ah, the power of positive thinking).