Name Change.

I'm thinking of changing the name of this here blog. You're all high if you think I'm going to start another blog for baby #2 when s/he comes along. Granted, this baby will be part of Lily's World, so technically, the name will still fit. I just want to expand it a bit.
Current ideas on the table:
311 Maple Street (kudos to whoever knows the reference).
Gingerland (has to do with our last name)
One Happy Family (already own the url and could just redirect)
Satan's spawn (just kidding... although it has a nice ring to it)
OR.....? Any thoughts, folks?

Speaking of name changes: when my husband and I got married, we chose to have Mark take my name rather than the traditional. This has to do with a lot of reasons, which I won't bore you with here. We were married in May of 2000 and my dear sweet husband is still legally saddled with his own name. He thought the process would be difficult as it is out of the norm and besides that, is terrible with paperwork. I would have done it for him (I'm brilliant, BRILLIANT with paperwork) but I felt that something this big had to be entered into freely and with all your own intent. So I refused to do it for him.

Today, we went over to the Social Security office and in five minutes he had filled out the paperwork and was told he'd get a new card in 5-10 days. Waaaa? That was easy. The guy that helped him did mention that it was only the second time he'd seen it in the three years he's worked there. So, the wheels are finally in motion. After he gets the SS Card we hit the DMV, then the bank, then start sending letters out. Totally and completely wild. By the time this baby is born we will all have the same last name.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARK!

Just back from a weekend in the woods.

Some of you already know that I kidnapped my husband this weekend and took him off to a cabin in the woods.


Just he and me and (unborn) baby made three. Lily stayed with her grandma (and had a BLAST, might I add) and Maya (dog) stayed with friends. Mark didn’t figure out where we were headed until we hit Hemet and while I missed a few items with packing for him – why would he need a pair of pants that have their button, I brought a belt, and who needs a hairbrush, he’s sexy when he’s all disheveled – he very much enjoyed the surprise. We stayed at the Fireside Inn in the Cameron I and folks, don’t be fooled; those photos show you just about the entire interior… complete with six foot doorway (Mark is 6’3”) that you literally had to kick open. Oh! And not to forget the creepy Satan, I mean, Santa picture on the wall! Looks totally sane up close, but from across the room when the lights are low… check it:

Normal Santa

evil Santa

The whole place slanted towards the front and was so cute and so cozy and just slightly bizarre. We feel in love.

As soon as we arrived, we took a nap and then went out for a lovely dinner. We rented a couple of movies only to discover the VCR didn’t work and so watched bad TV while burning brownies in the tiny stove (we ate ‘em anyway). We spent Saturday walking around town and then took a five minute drive up the mountain to snow!

There we got very cold (I couldn’t find Mark’s gloves) and made a snow gnome.

The big local landmark is a mountain peak called “Lily Rock”

so photos of that had to happen as well. We turned in early Saturday night and awoke late Sunday morning. Off to dessert, I mean breakfast, where I had the gooiest, yummiest cinnamon roll French toast… had me positively spinning on that sugar high all the way down the mountain.

As crazy as that girly of ours can make me, I was so ready to see her little face again. She was just waking up from a nap when we returned and fell on top of me with a huge hug. She was thrilled to see us both and was clearly not abused while we were away. She got to go to a doggy graduation for guide dogs, was the hit at my mom’s church and made my mom melt with hugs and kisses and her well placed words. Everyone won on this one, baby.

I’m so tired right now, I can’t even find my own face, but will see if I can add some photos to this before I dissolve.

27 weeks, baby!

Plums are yummy.


Or not.

Lily has a splinter in her foot.

I got my computer back! And they didn’t loose anything! And the tablet screen works! I’M HAPPY!

In other news, my daughter has learned how to deceive. She was having her morning scrambled eggs when she spied my bread. And this wasn’t any bread; this was cinnamon swirled, frosted, full of sugar, topped with butter, oh so tasty, Mark heartily disapproved of bread. So of course, this is what she simply had to have. I told her I’d give her a bite once she finished her eggs and headed into the living room to munch on my evil bread. Not 30 seconds later she calls out that she’s done and I turn to see her holding out an empty plate. Suspicious, no? So I walk on over to find her clutching a handful of eggs to her chest, hoping I won’t notice.

Turns out she did the same thing with Mark with hot dog (yes we feed our child hot dogs), only she hid the bits in her mouth and then spit it out once she got what she wanted. My little con artist!

Baby, be mine.

I was going to write a nice little post about how cute Lily is and that she actually said “take a seat” to me today while patting a little chair. I was going to go on about the wonder of my child speaking a full sentence and maybe even see if I could figure out how to post some photos of her (still without my fabulous laptop). I was going to do all that until bedtime happened.

Lil’s schedule has been really off lately. Late naps, funky bedtime and cutting teeth have turned bedtime into an uncertain event full of miss-starts, crazy behavior and false successes. Tonight, I got off work at 7:30 and was looking forward to a little time with her before the insanity began. But I was so freaking hungry that I focused on eating instead of her requests for attention. She got so out of hand that Mark took her off to bed and I finished my meal quietly, then headed over to the computer to see what all my blogging mamas had been up to. Shortly after he came back from putting her to bed, she started to cry and Mark asked me to go in, assuming she needed a little mommy time. I plucked her sobbing little body out of the crib, her little arms reaching up and circling my neck tightly. I held her and held her and held her and wanted nothing more than to just keep holding her until she drifted off to sleep peacefully. She put her perfect little head against my shoulder and popped her thumb into her mouth and we listened to the rain as it beat against the (leaking) roof. Any of you who have ever held a toddler for an extended period of time while pregnant will know what started to happen. My lower back, swayed heavily due to the weight of her in my arms, started to ache. I lowered myself to the edge of the bed and sat with her in my arms, but she quickly realized that the floor was closer and that she wanted to be on it. The struggle kicked off full force and she fought me, screaming, kicking, throwing herself backwards… calling out “want down!” and “Daddy” with a horse, frantic cry. It was all I could do not to drop her and I finally had to make a choice. Admit defeat and let her run around gleefully like a freak for a while or call for Mark. I called for Mark and as soon as he walked into the room she threw herself at him, sobbing “Daddy” over and over. I burst into tears and retreated, insisting to Mark, “she doesn’t want me!”

She’s gotten used to her daddy putting her to bed and with all the craziness of bedtime lately, I shouldn’t take it personally. But dammit, I do. It hurts me that she spends the whole day with him and the little amount of time I get with her has to have such conflict. I hate that I am not what she wants. Granted, when we all spend a day together, she tends to rotate to me more frequently, but when it comes to bedtime, she only has eyes for daddy (unless I’m in a position that causes me physical pain). I’m being childish and selfish… I want her to want me and I know she loves me and enjoys being with me. I know that this is all about routine and not who she loves more. And to be honest, there’s a part of me that feels like now I’m off the hook. I suddenly understand those people who make their spouse deal with every aspect of parenting, because HEY, the kid likes them better anyway. It’s not that this parent is a dick, it’s that it’s one way to shield yourself from rejection. Now how’s that for pathetic?

So what’s the right way to go about this? Do I start putting her to bed more even though I’m often at work during her bedtime? Is it best to just stick to one parent so she has a routine she can count on? Do I shield myself from rejection or is it part of parenting and I just need to grow my ass up? Where’s the freaking instruction manual?

But then there are those moments. Those amazing moments where my child says, “take a seat!” and I smash my big pregnant ass into the little chair, overjoyed with her and welcoming a perfect moment and I know… I know that a moment like this would never be in the manual. It’s a gift, a perfect surprise, a moment of bliss… no matter how small.

Things you don’t catch yourself saying until you become a parent.

“Nobody leaves this house without pants on!”

Oh, how I miss my fabulous laptop...

My fabulous laptop is in the shop and I am so very sad. I have a tablet PC which allows me to draw directly on my computer… something that makes me giggle with glee and bounce up and down like a high school [pregnant] cheerleader. It came in very handy when I was creating logos and designing marketing materials for my theatre projects. A couple of months ago, half of the screen refused to cooperate with the stylus. Bastard! Can’t even enjoy solitaire since then, and that is simply tragic. Mark and I finally got all my files of import onto disk or transferred onto his computer. My freaking laptop was fighting this process and I had to trash half a dozen CD’s before we linked up our computers and did the transfer that way. Yesterday, Mark brought it to the fancy repair place and they gave him an estimate of five to six days. I’m hoping to have it back in two to three years. For now I must covertly post at work or finagle Mark’s computer out from under hi, preferably when he’s not looking.

Wow that was boring. I think I beat KB in boring on that one.

I’m making banana bread! Does that liven things up at all? Thought not.

Here, does this make amends?

My posts are all so sappy these days. But I’m a pregnant lady with sappy hormones, so what do you expect from me?

At our birthing class last night we talked about our fears. I found it interesting that the women were mostly afraid of being unsupported (by their doctor or family, for instance) while the men were all afraid of externals (getting transferred to the hospital from the birth center or being a “host” at a homebirth). My fear has a lot to do with the fact that Lily came so fast, I worry that we’ll not be able to be safe in our home… stuck at the mall or at someone else’s home. Mostly, I worry that Mark won’t be here and I’ll be alone.

We were given the task of looking at our fear, seeing it happen and then painting how we’d cope. How we’d make it the best possible experience, even in the face of our fear. I put the image of being totally alone in my mind and this is what I painted:




I discovered that even if I am alone, I am not. I know what to do in my mind, heart and body… and my baby knows what to do as well. And even if Mark isn’t with me, he will be supporting me. I am not the first woman to birth alone and if it happens that way, I will have the love and support of countless women who have gone before me.

I had another realization as well. Lily’s birth was heavily attended (see her birth story for more on that). I remember a whirlwind of activity and a feeling like I was surrounded at every angle. I realized last night that while that was perfect for her birth (I so needed that support), I want this child to enter the world with less of an audience. I dreamed last night of being in labor and all I could see was Mark. He filled my vision and locked into my gaze. I felt myself sink into his beautiful eyes; eyes the color of coffee with cream just swirled in; the same eyes my daughter laughs up at me with. I saw the midwife coming quietly in, checking in on me and then going away again. I saw a very private and spiritual experience where Mark and I welcomed our child our way… whatever that will mean. And I saw the celebration. I saw our newborn wet and squalling in our arms as we welcomed Lily into the scene. I saw her cubby little hands pointing at her new sibling and the grin across her face at the joy in our eyes. I saw everything I want and saw that it is all possible.

My sleeping babe.

Small, wiggly and oh so right.

There are days where I just love my job and days where I just hate it. I’ll not be too specific as I don’t want to end up Dooced (see Dooce's site for more info), but I have a ticket rep that just needs to go. And yet, I cannot make her go due to a whole series of stupid decisions made in the past, followed by a whole slew of CYA decisions made in the present. Today is one of those days where I want to throw things. I can just imagine my phone flying across the room and smashing into a billion beautiful plastic pieces. Oh, or the multi colored wrath of my desk organizer as it rains highlighters, paperclips, business cards and white out all over the place. My photos of Lily shall not be touched.

In other news, I am amazed at the strength of this baby growing inside me. I swear s/he is trying to get out via my belly button. I watch my belly jump and flex and marvel as the rolls and twists spin inside my womb. If this baby comes out with the cord wrapped up around him/her in a delicate and perfect bow, I will not at all be surprised. At the end of my pregnancy with Lily she would stretch her perfect feet up under my right ribs and I would poke her in the butt to retaliate. After she came topside, I would laugh aloud at her wiggly body, watching her stretch her feet out, arching her back… so familiar and so amazing to finally witness. Will this baby do acrobatics in our bed? Back flips across the floor? Full gainers into the tub? My wild baby.

I feel like I am finally connecting to this bean. The more s/he wiggles and moves inside me the more I feel like I know him/her. Maybe that’s why I am getting so much more movement than I did with Lily. Maybe this baby knows I’m having more trouble with the reality of him/her and so is stepping up the movement in response. They are brilliant, you know. Yesterday I held a two-month-old and was shocked by how light he was… carrying around a toddler makes you forget how little they start out. I looked into his eyes and felt his little mouth bump against me, rooting for some num-nums and something inside me… broke. I felt this amazing release, like pent up energy that finally gets its way. It was so familiar and such a welcome sensation… I know what it is to hold a baby that small. I know how to do this. It’s a nice feeling.

painting with daddy and the dog.

The gods shall smite thee!

We had an awesome day yesterday. Mark and I actually spent the entire day enjoying each other’s company… a very rare event indeed. The three (and a ½) of us had breakfast in PB and then dropped Lily off at my moms. From there we hit up a local resale shop where I scored on a few Maternity tops, then on to the TJ Maxx, Ross, Burlington rounds looking for jeans for Mark and some more maternity scores for me. More food (Indian, yum) then Starbucks for sugary treats, and THEN (and this is big folks), we took in a movie. We saw Sideways and really enjoyed it. I’m beginning to think Fox Searchlight has some smart people working for them. After the movie, we went and picked up Lily and met friends at our house for pizza and really good root beer. Now that is a good day.

Today I woke up solidly on the wrong side of the bed. I guess all that fun just pissed off the gods. Before noon I had already yelled at my husband, spoke sternly to my toddler and almost burst into tears while walking into work because of this thought: “at least with all the rain we’re getting, our baby will born into a world of green hillsides, blooming flowers and unbelievable beauty.” Work has been challenging. I’m annoyed at one of my bosses and I’m just ready for a freaking nap.

I shall now quit my whining and get my ass working. Proceed with the frivolity.

Return of the EVIL CYST!

Just had a midwife appointment and things didn’t go as fabulously as I would have hoped. Looks like I’m anemic and in order to draw the blood for all the tests needed (4 freaking vials!) she had to stick me repeatedly. My stupid veins kept collapsing. And I’m not a big fan of needles and my daughter became cranky and so Mark had to deal with her while I practically squirmed off the table because the EVIL CYST (EC) has returned and the midwife was trying to drain it. OK, so I haven’t explained the EC but it’s only my girly bits and it hurt like hell when she cut it. The EC is what landed me in the hospital when I was pregnant with Lil. Mind you, I didn’t end up in the ER because the EC was actually causing me pain or threatening me in anyway, rather because of an over reacting nurse who suddenly decided that despite the fact she wasn’t actually looking at me (this was the nurse hotline) the EC wasn’t anything normal and was threatening my pregnancy. Dumb ass. OH! and if you’ve ever had an ER doc go after your neither regions with a needle and a blade, let’s just say it’s a horrid experience. This time around I’m happy to have a gentle midwife deal with it, but it still is incredibly painful, no matter how you slice it (HA! Pun intended folks, it’s just one of those days).

So why is it an EVIL cyst if it’s not actually causing me pain or threatening me in anyway? Because it’s damn inconvenient, that’s why. With Lily’s pregnancy it decided to show up on the Saturday night between Christmas and New Years. Have you even been in an ER on the Saturday night between Christmas and New Years? If you had, you’d know it one of the busiest nights of the year, mostly due to drunk idiots. Had it not been for the overreacting nurse, I could have made an appointment with my OB and had it dealt with in a somewhat civilized manner. BUT NO! I had to sit in an incredibly uncomfortable ER overnight only to be brutalized but an overworked and rushed doctor who didn’t want to spend time with my girly bits any more than I wanted him down there.

At least this time around it showed up only pea sized (last time it was more like one of those big ol’ grapes) and presented itself at a midwife appointment where we could all calmly and gently deal. “Gently” if you can use that word while holding a scalpel in your hand.

So, I’m light-headed (yippee, anemia!) and tired (more anemia!) but at least my fabulous husband made me a spinach and broccoli omelet. And now I have work to do as my theatre doesn’t pay me to blog.

P.S. And I hadn’t intended this post to be about the EC… apparently I got some issues.

One month before I became pregnant with Lily.

I had a NEED for a fairy tea party that year and my friends are so awesome that they all showed up (in costume!) for tea at Mrs. Burton's Tea Room in Old Town. The ladies that ran the place were in awe and latter told me that they had never had so much fun with a party. It was an absolute blast and exactly what I needed at that point in my life. Highly recommend this inner child therapy!

I have nothing to say.

I’ve got a stitch in my side that hasn’t gone away for several days. It’s likely just round ligament pain; I’ve had it before and it usually figures itself out. But it’s annoying while it lasts.

Seriously, that’s all I have to say. Just sitting here with my computer in my lap watching bad TV and feeling ouchie. Oh, but you remember my post about Anna and the semi? Her website is back up and she has a post with pictures and video about the whole ordeal. Go read her stuff, now that is interesting.

Mark had extra foam insulation stuff and so shot it into a huge mass that looks vaguely brain-ish. Here Lily watches him dig it out.


The finished product fits nicely on Lily's head. She's super brain baby!


Lily works on the buckle for the new baby's car seat. It's second hand, so I had to remove the cover for a wash, which gives Lily access to all the buckle bits.


The best way to blog is nekked!

All I want for baby is...

Once again we're being asked what we need for the new baby. Well, we don't need anything, but there are a few items that might be fun/useful. I'm going to post a link to this bad boy and update it as stuff comes to me. For now, just take comfort in its existence.

Land's End Do-It-All Diaper Bag
Ummm, love it. It has lots of pockets, doesn't make me vomit with an overstated sense of cute and looks like it will last.

Natural Babies
I tried to set up a registry for this site but my stupid computer crashed right before I got done. Gahh! So hey, a gift certificate for here would let me get some more cloth diapers and other fun things for baby.

ZoloWear Baby Carrier
The Red Dragonfly Brocade/Red Silk one is freaking amazingly beautiful. The link should open right to it. Pricy, but stylish enough to wear anywhere!

Ergo Baby Carrier
You can often search around and find these cheaper, but from what I understand this is one of the most comfortable carriers out there. My cousin in Chicago swears by them.

Cozy Cocoon
Too freaking cute… don’t know that we’d actually use these wraps (especially since baby will be born in summer), although the hats kill me. Anyone who knows of my Lily hat obsession knows why I would be so insane for these crazy hats.

Love Plus One
The cutest, hand stitched onsies and tee’s. And I happen to know one of those models… he’s the most adorable one on the page.

More to come...

My grandparents gave Lily the playhouse my cousins and I used to play in when we were little. She's pretty thrilled with it and spends all her time opening and closing the doors and windows. And playing the piano, of course. Gotta play the piano.

Seeing Red?

We had dinner at my dads last night. A friend had sent him some fresh Alaskan Halibut that had been caught and FedExed from Alaska just the week before. My MIL noticed that when my dad took it off the BBQ he called me over to check that it was done. Having always done this for my dad, it wasn’t odd but Heidi asked me about it later. My dad is colorblind and cannot always see if there is too much pink left inside the meat. She asked me if my brother was colorblind and I explained that it follows the maternal gene line. This means if this child inside of me is a boy, he will likely be colorblind as well.

This hit me like a ton of bricks. This is not the first time I’ve had this thought, but it suddenly seemed so present. I cannot imagine not being able to see the colors of a sunset, the subtle shades and flecks of blues and purples in the eyes of those family members I cherish. To see Mark’s brown eyes, like the color of cream swirled gently into coffee, as flat. And lets face it, not many men can dress themselves… what do you think happens when they can’t see color?

Couple this with another baby dream last night: we’d gone to have a sonogram – something we don’t plan to do this time around – and had brought along our friends Nate and Sandy (who we collectively refer to as Nandy when pleased with them and Snate when not… we have yet to call them Snate!) After the sonogram, Sandy realized that she left her purse inside and goes back in to fetch it. Inside she hears this conversation:
“How’d the G Sonogram go?”
“Great! Very healthy looking baby boy”
So, of course, she comes running out and announces that we’re having a boy. High fives between the boys (which is totally out of character, btw). I told her about this at work today and she told me that she actually does believe we’re having a boy.

With Lily, I was CONVINCED she would be a boy. Utterly and totally convinced. Actually shocked, in fact, that she was a girl. So, I do not really trust my “intuition” on this one. I mean, I have a 50-50 chance, but I’m not getting comfortable with anything.

To wrap up: I’m likely having a colorblind boy. At least he won’t be eligible for military service.