17 Weeks: Sweet Sunshiny Days

"Sunshowers that fall on my troubles are over you, my baby. And some showers I'll be aiming at you 'cause I'm watching you, my baby." ~ M.I.A.

17 weeks and feeling fine

 

Can you spot Q's head?

The weather has been miraculous for the last couple of days. 80+ degrees! And just a mere week ago, it was storming and all kinds of gloomy and I was beginning to think I had seasonal affective disorder. This 180 in a week's time tells you a little something about Bay Area weather. Madness. But I love it. Apparently I really needed this dose of vitamin D.

I couldn't resist pulling my beloved Macbook outside this morning to play with the Photo Booth and snap a few belly pics. Even though the sun was ridiculously bright and totally washed out the details of my outfit (mesh-y oversized grey sweater from H&M, pink racerback tank from UO, denim sailor shorts from Forever 21, Havaianas with feet that are in desperate need of a pedi). I've been meaning to post more fashion-oriented pregnancy photos (mostly because I love looking at how other people style themselves while preggo), but here I am at 17 weeks and haven't found the time to take any decent photos. And I've even worn some cute outfits, dammit. I will try to get my belly act together soon, though. This sun motivates me.

In other fun news, I became an auntie today! T's brother and my lovely sister-in-law welcomed their daughter Ruby Joy (isn't that a perfect name?) into the world this morning at 7am. So far I've heard only glowing reports about both mama and baby. I'm very excited to meet little Ruby. Q's first cousin!
 

Working Out While Pregnant

Blah. That's how I feel about this topic. But I need to get moti to the vated.


During my first pregnancy, I didn't officially work out. But I did walk a ton because that's part of what my work entailed at the time -- going between an office and a warehouse and walking to and from the bus station. I probably walked a good half hour to an hour five days a week.


But now I work at a different job and work from home twice a week and do a lot more driving. I do rock out with Q and run around with him, but it's not quite the same. Plus, I just feel more exhausted this pregnancy. Probably because of said rocking out with Q. Or hormones. Probably both. Whatever. Excuses, excuses. Let's be honest here. I don't have a lot of motivation to exercise when I'm not pregnant. Dancing was wonderful for me because it didn't feel like exercise. But of course I haven't been to a class in a few years now and feel way out of shape in that regard. My goal is to get to a studio after this baby is born and find a dance class that suits my lifestyle now.

But what about now-now?


Fortunately there is one motivating factor. The sun has returned to the Bay Area! I almost didn't recognize that fireball up in the sky and in fact thought I had somehow been relocated to Seattle with the deluge of rain we'd been having. But no, the sun has reappeared and the great outdoors beckon me. I prefer to be outside, drinking in that fresh air and trying to get a look inside of my neighbors' houses checking out my beautiful surroundings, while I "work out." I will walk again! Tomorrow.


What about you, active mamas? How do you motivate to get moving while pregnant? Is prenatal yoga good for someone who's not very yoga-savvy? Any other classes you recommend?

Future Freakout

"The distant future, the year 2000" ~ Flight of the Conchords

Once you become a parent, you inevitably start thinking more about the future. For most of my life I have not been a very future-oriented person. Especially distant future. I recall joking with my parents when I was teenager that I didn't see the point in living past 21. I think that freaked my mom out a bit, but I assured her I wasn't being serious. Still, I didn't look forward much to the increased responsibilities of being an adult. Sure, I wanted a family of my own. Sure, I wanted a successful career. My life had been fairly easy as a kid, so I just thought all that stuff would happen accordingly. Ha. Such naivete.


And now as I work on bringing a second child into this world, all that the future entails is invading my mind with spasms of anxiety. I try to shove those worries to the back corner, as I would do in the past. To deal with another day a la Scarlett O'Hara. But I'm beginning to feel like a hoarder. They're piling up. Overflowing. There are one too many junk drawers and out of sight out of mind is no longer working. Plus, if things got really bad on the plantation that is Guido, I wouldn't have the skills to sew myself a dress out of the drapes.

I hear older friends talking about budgeting for private high schools and college for their kids and it makes my concerns over whether or not Q is going to interact well with the other kids at his new gymnastics class seem ridiculous. I mean, I get that it's all relative and each age brings about different concerns. But wow. This raising kids stuff is an investment on every possible level. And 'spensive!


In attempting to be a good parent, I'm trying to bravely confront those things that are not fun to think about. Like life insurance. Good grief, Charlie Brown. It's dull and annoying and confusing and morbid and did I mention NOT FUN. I don't want to get into our decision-making process around life insurance because if it bores me to tears, then it's sure to make you close this tab. So, really what I'm talking about is the enormity of trying to plan for the future when there is now so much more at stake than just silly ol' Michie. Financial planning. Investing. Being decisive. These are not my strong suits. But I'm working on it. And I really want to do what's smart.


I'm sure these sorts of thoughts stress all young adults out at some point, parents or not. How do you not get overwhelmed by the future?

Cat Piss Pity Party

"Come on over over, we're having a party for you" ~ Yacht


You are cordially invited to my aromatic house. A house we like to call Guido. With a name like Guido, I'm sure you're imagining such inviting scents like hair gel, Italian sausage, and spray tanner. But no, this olfactory party is put on by piss. Elroy's piss, to be precise. He has rigged this crib to have his brand of aromatherapy wafting through Guido for your party-time pleasure. Just make sure to turn the heater on for maximum effect.


Yep. Elroy has been pissing down the heater vents. And at the bottom of the stairs to the garage. And on three pairs of shoes, including a pair of suede boots. I believe I've vented about this kitty before, but getting woken up in the night those months ago was like a tropical vacation compared to this crap. Ahem, piss.


So, like a good kitty parent, I took Elroy to the vet about a month ago and had his urine tested for any possible infections. He's had a couple problems in that area in the past, including a urinary tract infection around the holidays. But he was sent home from the vet with a clean bill of health. Well, physical health. Apparently, he's stressed. When the doc asked about any possible sources of stress, I wanted to pull out my iPhone and show her the extra large and in charge 2-year-old dictator of Guido.  Q's sadistic fun with El has improved slightly, but that doesn't make kitty any less anxious around him. Although he does stick around for more, so perhaps he's a masochist.


In any case, Elroy has been on anti-anxiety meds since then. Apparently this is not uncommon. But unfortunately I haven't noticed a single change in him. It's extra fun being pregnant in a house that reeks of cat urine. Do you mind if I cry on your shoulder? We're not quite sure what to do next . . .


In the midst of typing this on Wednesday night, Elroy starting urinating with blood repeatedly all over the place. While feeling immense guilt for complaining about what seemed to be his bad attitude, I realized that he was really sick. T took El to the emergency clinic and fortunately he's okay. He just has an infection and is now on pain meds and antibiotics on top of his anti-anxiety meds. We also put an extra litter box upstairs and took down our baby gate (finally). Q doesn't really need it anymore and Elroy seems to be thrilled to not have to jump over it. Elroy also seems to be on the mend. I'll keep you posted. Even though I realize that this isn't a cat blog and I could very well be driving away my few readers. Thanks for sticking around through this piss pity party!

Missing Q Cuddles

There are some days when I savor being at the office. I drink them up slowly and with relish, like the hot chai latte that I often treat myself to in the morning. Uninterrupted work sessions. Chatting with other adults. It almost feels like an indulgence.

Then there are other days, like today, when I do not feel at peace. Something is lacking. And I know exactly what it is. Q has been particularly cuddly and yummy lately, so to go for several hours without his presence produces a feeling of unease. To not smell his skin. To not feel his drool-y (yes, still) face pressed against mine. Oh, how I miss my cuddle buddy and all of his endearing qualities.

His contagious energy. Which I'm in desperate need of lately.

His endless charm. 

Flirting with our neighbor

It's days like this when I count down the hours until I'm kicking it with my Q. Until he headbutts me so hard that I get whiplash. And then it's back to wishing I was in my office, chai in hand.

Girly Girl

"Girl versus boy in the world series of love" ~ Prince

Source

I was one of those as a kid. Princesses, ballet, pink, Barbie dolls -- those were my bag, baby. As I grew older, I didn't cling so tightly to the notion of being girly. I played basketball. I danced. I wanted to be like my older boy cousins. I adored clothes and all things fashion. I started a love affair with hip-hop. I never dreamed about my wedding day. In other words, I mixed things up.

But I did dream about one day having a little girl of my own. When I was pregnant with Q, I honestly didn't care about the baby's sex because I knew I wanted one of each. So if it was a boy first, then great! If a girl first, lovely. And when we found out we were having a healthy boy, I was so happy that I cried. T was convinced that I was crying because I wanted a girl, but they were tears of joy. I swear. I couldn't wait to meet the little guy.

And now that I'm in my second pregnancy and we don't plan to have any more children, I fully own the fact that I would like a healthy baby girl. My friends know it. My family knows it. I'll tell your mama and your cousin, too. I know I'm supposed to only wish for a healthy baby. I know that telling the world that I want a girl could bite me in the booty if I end up having a boy. But I can't help myself. I have to be honest about this wish.

So, when we find out the baby's sex on April 21st, I'm expecting to cry again. Regardless of the news. And this is one of the reasons I could not wait until the actual birth to find out the sex. If it's a boy, I may go through a bit of a grieving period. And I think that's okay. I want to have time to get to know this baby growing inside of me. To adjust to the boy or to the girl. Why is gender so important? It just is. I'd like to think that it doesn't matter when you're out in the world, but we all know it does. I'd love to experience parenting both sexes. (And I totally wanted a big brother when I was a little girl.) But if it's not meant to be, then I'll have to come to terms with that.

What will this "it" baby become? Waiting another month seems unfairly long. Oh, the anxiety! I'm sure it will fly by. Right?

Sunny Sunday Morning

"It's why I'm easy . . . easy like Sunday morning." ~ Lionel Richie

Two of my favorite guys on a chilly but bright Sunday morning a couple weeks ago. It's observing these little moments that lighten my typical load of stress and worry and allow me to simply be content. So very thankful for the vibrant love that surrounds me. (Yes, I'm pregnant and feeling sentimental.)

I'm posting this from my spankin' new 13" Macbook Pro -- a belated b-day gift from T and his parents.  It's the first computer of my very own. Welcome me to the 21st century! Thankful in droves, I am.

Beautified Banner (and Button!)

Hello, dear readers!


You may have noticed a little something different upon this visit to Flyrish Foibles. If you haven't, then perhaps you're viewing this in a reader and I suggest you take a second to pop on over to my actual blog to have a looksie. Or don't. But then you're totally missing out. I have a beautiful new banner and a sweet button designed by the talented Jessica from IROCKSOWHAT.


I'm smitten over the silhouette she created from the photo of Q I sent her. And she did just what I requested -- clean and simple with a touch of whimsy. And I finally have a banner that is centered and stretched. Woo hoo! I'm completely inept when it comes to the design elements of my blog, so I really appreciate her help. Plus, she has an amazing deal going right now. Head on over to her blog if you're looking for a bit of a design update or if you just want to be entertained by her fun, witty posts and standout photos of her super adorbs son. Thank you, Jessica!

Mama Misses . . .

"I'm not ashamed to tell the world I miss you." ~ Janet Jackson

I'm now 14 weeks along. Hurrah for the 2nd trimester! And even though I'm only a third of the way through, I have something to bitch and moan about. And I will because this is my blog and I can whine if I want to. There are a few things I seem to miss and that I won't be reunited with until well after I birth this baby. So, in no particular order, here's what I find myself fantasizing about . . .


Wine.

Source

Whiskey.

Zyrtec. My allergies get extra sucky when I'm with child. And the doc said to try not to take any Zyrtec unless I'm really suffering. So of course I don't feel okay to take it ever.

Green tea. Apparently that's not recommended. Something about leeching folic acid from your system. Ew, leeches. Why did I use the word "leeching"? It always makes me think of Stand By Me. My mom had to take me outside of the movie theater when Gordy found a leech down his Fruit of the Looms. It was too intense for me. Moving on . . .

Wine. Oh, did I mention that already? I swear when I was pregnant with Q, it wasn't that hard to give up the alcohol. It just didn't appeal to me. But this time? It appeals. Probably because even one small glass would allow me a brief respite from all of this responsibility crap.

Ibuprofen.

I'm like a freakin' child. Just because something is forbidden makes it that much more appealing. Even mercury-laden swordfish sounds tempting right about now. I kid. Seafood never sounds good to me and especially not when I'm pregnant. The smell. Oh, the invasive smell. Don't get me anywhere near a fish counter when I'm at the market.

On a brighter note, we have an ultrasound appointment all set to find out the baby's sex. Big announcement coming on April 21st! More on how I'm feeling about that later . . .

Doula Devotion

"Let the sun shine a smile your way. Open your heart, feel a touch of devotion. Maybe this song will help uplift your day." ~ Earth, Wind & Fire

When I was pregnant with Q, T and I decided that we would go with a regular OB to deliver the baby, but we liked the idea of employing a doula as a means of support, both spiritually and physically, during the labor and delivery of our first child. After doing a bit of a research, I came across the lovely and amazing Felicia. From the moment we met, we connected and felt right with one another. What I liked most about Felicia (and what I believe she admired in me) was her willingness to be open about the whole process. She certainly didn't have an agenda to push for natural birthing, which I think some people unfairly assume about doulas. She was there to offer support to the parents, to lend guidance through her experience of assisting with over 500(!) births. Sold. 

When we became pregnant this time around, I knew I wanted Felicia to be involved again, but I wasn't sure that we could afford it. My mom had gifted us with paying for a portion of her services during my first pregnancy. It was an incredible gift. Invaluable really. I believe my mom knew that she couldn't offer the kind of support that she might have been able to when she was at her full strength. So she did what she could. This time I emailed Felicia to let her know our predicament and how important she was to our first pregnancy and the birth of our first child, which was such a beautiful experience and not at all as frightening or painful as I imagined it could be -- Felicia played a large part in that experience. She replied saying that there was definitely a discount for 2nd time mamas and was more than happy to work with us at a rate that we could afford. I responded with an amount that I knew would be a generous discount but was being honest with what we could manage at this time. I worried it might be even a bit offensive. Still, I thought she might want to negotiate and there was possibly room for that on our end. 

When I read her response this weekend, I couldn't stop the tears from flooding my eyes and pouring down my cheeks. Q even ran to get his daddy when he saw me break down. But I was crying tears of joy. Tears of gratitude. She not only agreed to the suggested rate, she said she kept hearing the same number in her head and she believed it was my mom sending the message along. You see, the day my mom passed away was the day that Felicia was scheduled to come do her postpartum visit with us and Q. She was on her way when we got the phone call and had to call her to share the news and postpone her visit. I can imagine that impacted her in a way that would make it hard to forget the loss of my mom. And I had just been thinking about this whole ordeal the day that I received Felicia's message. So, on that day, I also felt my mom's presence. Even if she can't be here physically during this pregnancy, she has found such a key way to show that she is still with me. Thank you, Mamasay! You are still the best possible mom I have ever known.  

A little more about doulas. If you are considering working with a doula, I can't recommend it enough. She made me look forward to the full experience of our son's birth. She put T at ease and helped him to be a wonderful source of support during the labor. She helped me to manage the pain and put it all in perspective. I was able to give birth to Q without any drugs, but if things had not been moving along and I was really suffering, I know she would have advocated on my behalf for whatever interventions I might have needed. On the one hand, I was lucky to have a relatively fast labor and delivery. On the other hand, I don't know how I would have handled it all without her. If you're in the Bay Area and are researching doulas, please check out Felicia. She is more than worth the investment. Otherwise, in your search for a doula, remember that these are women who are there for your support and benefit, not necessarily to push their own agendas. And who couldn't use a little extra support during one of the most important events of her life?

Fly-lights, Fly-lows: The 1st Trimester Rewind

"When you go away to the dark skies, moon pies, fireflies, dropping off like dirty lies . . ." Kendra Morris

So, I'm 13 weeks along now and finally seeing the glorious light of the honeymoon-like 2nd trimester ahead of me. Oh, the cray-cray 1st trimester. I should get this out of the way right now -- it really wasn't that bad. I didn't throw up once, but I could be found bowing in front of that porcelain deity a few times, praying for some sort of relief. Dry heaving is almost worse than actually puking because there's nothing productive about it. I guess I didn't anticipate this pregnancy being very different from the first, which was luckily easy and uneventful for the most part. The biggest change really is that I'm already a mom and therefore have minimal time to rest. As in I'm the first woman to ever be pregnant with a toddler running around. Woe is me! (But really, how the H-E-double-hockey-sticks do women do this all the time?)

Let's play some catch up, shall we? A few fly-lights and some fly-lows, if you will.

Fly-low:
I've been eating chocolate like it's the end of the world. Again.

Fly-light:
See above.

Fly-low:
Even the thought of tomato sauce gave me heartburn. Oh great. Still does.

Fly-light:
I wasn't eating quite so much pizza and pasta.

Fly-low:
Exhaustion is a lame excuse for a word. It doesn't begin to cover what I've been experiencing.

Fly-light:
Q has learned to like the "nap game" in which we gather pillows and blankets and lay on the couch. Or the floor. In between trucks.

Fly-light:
An excuse for spontaneously combusting into an emotional wreck.

Fly-low:
Poor T.

And a transitional Fly-light as we enter the 2nd trimester:
Fun dreams that T enjoys "hearing about" when I wake up.

Big Bro Status

"Right about now, the funk soul brother" ~ Fatboy Slim

Pride and joy.

Q will not only be starting preschool in the fall -- he will become a big brother! That's right. This little family of three will become a family of four. Well, 4 and a half if you include Elroy.

So far I'm keeping my resolution for evolution in 2011. Quite literally. My body is evolving. My family is evolving. My mama-hood is evolving. What can be more evolutionary than bringing a new life into this world? Yes, I'm still sort of in shock. Let's just say this pregnancy wasn't exactly planned. But apparently it's meant to be and for that we are happy with this lovely surprise.

It's been hard not to write about all of the ups and downs of the first trimester, but I wasn't quite ready to share the news with the world. I think I slacked a bit on blogging because I couldn't share what was at the forefront of my hormonal brain. But there will be some catching up and some pregnancy gushes and rants coming to this blog soon!

For now, let's congratulate Q on his new big-brother-in-training status. It's a big job, but I think he'll be ready to work once the babe arrives. (Please let me him be ready.)