As I Boldly Go Where Many Women Have Gone Before…

 

 

Tomorrow is the big day. 

Some of my family has arrived from Oregon to be in the first round of the Isaac-Welcoming-Committee.

And I kind of feel like how I felt when out-of-town guests started arriving for my wedding.  Like it is all becoming real, and there is no turning back now.  (Not that I wanted to, Brian- kiss!kiss!)

So, regardless of your religious preference, I am now accepting prayers for tomorrow.  Specifically for:

1) A speedy delivery

2) A healthy baby

and

3) A NICE STRONG EPIDURAL.

See you all on the other side!

-Caitlin

39 weeks 2 days

(All together now, “WOAH, Nelly!”  And I’m not sticking it out.  My back just bows naturally under the weight of Isaac’s sheer girth)

Eviction Notice

 

 

Dear Isaac,

.

I am glad that you have been having a fun time in my uterus.

It’s warm, it’s cozy, it’s dark, you are getting non-stop chocolate through a mainline in your belly…what’s not to love?  I get it.

Unfortunately (for you), you are no longer welcome in this place you call home.

You have ignored all of my repeated hints (have you noticed a lot of walks recently?  A strange raspberry-leaf tea taste tainting the chocolate?) and you continue to sleep, poke my cervix, and grow fatter every day.

And so, Sonny-boy, it has come to this:

On Wednesday, you will be forced to exit the premises, permanently.

If you would like to leave of your own free will, you are welcome to at any time.  But, if not, you are in for a BIG surprise on Wednesday when a lot of weeeeird things start happening. 

Hey, I’m not happy about this either, but it has to be done.

Just thought I’d give you a heads up.

See you on Wednesday.

Love always,

your mom.

He Makes Me Laugh

 

And he makes himself laugh

 

Which is the funniest part of it all.

(Above, he is doing a dance move that he invented and calls the “TAIL!”)

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PS  “Caitlin, you poor thing, are you STILL pregnant?”

Well…

…and still rockin’ the horizontal stripes, thank you very much.

Thursday, 12:35 pm.

 

Me: “Joseph!  That’s Isaac’s chair, silly!”

Joseph: “No, JOSEPH’S chair!”

Who sounds ready to be a big brother??!!

(“Cheese.”)

Sorry I haven’t posted much. And yep, I’m still pregnant.

 

 

So very pregnant. 

And, before you all launch into stories about how your great-aunt was a month overdue…I’m just going to go ahead and say that I bet I out-measure her.  I am huge.  Also, tell your aunt that no one likes a show off.

I am the kind of pregnant that I forgot exists. 

The kind of pregnant where you can’t get out of a chair without swinging your giant orb of a belly around for momentum.

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The kind of pregnant where you are always out of breath because a) you’re kind of fat and b) there is a foot in your ribs.  Seriously.  Toes in your ribs.  Gross!

.

The kind of pregnant where people have stopped commenting on how cute you look, and instead just stare and wonder who let you out of the house. 

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The kind of pregnant where the store clerks eye you warily.  You have become a liability strolling through the frozen food, since clearly you could combust and drop out a baby at any moment. (Clean up on Aisle 2…)

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The kind of pregnant where shooting pains suddenly occur in the most private of places.  Usually while you are talking to a bank teller or a delivery man.  You are all, “Thank you so much for…” ZING!!!… your cervix spasms and yet you have to play it cool.  Because, it is not necessarily socially acceptable to speak of cervical or vaginal pain with strangers.  I’ve heard.

.

So, yeah.  That’s where I am.

I don’t mean to complain. 

Well, I DO mean to complain, but keep in mind that I DO know how lucky I am to be blessed with a healthy (huge), full-term (huge) baby in my uterus.

I enjoy being pregnant, for the most part, and if somebody could just give me an exact date and time when this little twerp was coming out, I would feel like I could better enjoy the time that is left to me.

But, instead, I just have to wait.

Just wait, watching as my newly-formed stretch marks get bigger every day.

Just wait, knowing that, at any time, my body will erupt into the most intense pain a woman can feel, I may or may not gush fluid uncontrollably all over wherever I am standing, and then someone who is roughly 8 lbs will come barreling out of my poor nether-regions.

So, yes, it is hanging over my head a bit.

What’s new with you?

Wednesday, 3:25-3:35 pm

 

Nutella Break!

Really, I think that most of us feel like this about Nutella…

We’ve just learned to play it cool.  Joseph, not so much.

 

At Least I Can Cook, Clean, and Have Babies.

 

I decided that it was time to teach Joseph some new shapes.

He knows the ol’ circle-square-rectangle routine, but let’s face it, that trick won’t get us asked back to many parties.

It was time to kick it up a notch.  Keep our competitive edge.

It was time to introduce the Hexagon.

.

On Monday, while we were coloring, I casually drew a hexagon, and asked Joseph what it was. 

He replied that it was a barn. 

I corrected him and told him that, while it was RED like a barn, it was actually a shape called a Hexagon.

I drew a few more, all the while talking about these things called Hexagons and how cool they were.

When I asked again, he clearly answered that the shape was a, “Hexagon.”  (Well, actually, “heck-a-gon,” but let’s not pull teeth)

I was so proud and entertained a few thoughts about how being a mother was the best teaching job in the whole world.

Fast forward to yesterday.

We were hanging out in the library (just killing time until our my favorite kids’ resale shop opens, let’s be honest) and I came across a toddler puzzle.  It had various shapes on it, and when you lifted each one out, it had the name of the shape written underneath.

Eureka!  Another learning opportunity!

I put it down in front of Joseph and we started in.

Me: “What’s this, Joseph?”

“CIRCLE!”

Me: “That’s right, a CIRCLE!  How about this one?”

“RECTANGLE!”

Me: “Rectangle!  That’s right!

..here it comes…the big test… ”What’s this shape, Joseph?”

“HEXAGON!”

Me: (flushing with pride, and looking around to see if anyone had overheard my little boy-genius.)  “That’s right!  That is a…”

Wait a minute.

When I lifted up the hexagon out of the puzzle board, the word underneath said “Pentagon.”

It was a pentagon.  It IS a pentagon.

I taught my child, successfully as it turns out, that a pentagon was a hexagon.

.

I really have nothing more to say on this matter.

Besides that, if I have gone 25 years without knowing for sure what a hexagon was, then clearly, my two year old does not really need to know.

.

Also, for the record

= Pentagon

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     = Hexagon