"Hmph!" hmphed Sara

I deleted my last blog entry because I couldn't stand the idea of presenting myself to internet-at-large as a self-indulgent whiner. I thought I'd start over with more positive stuff.

So the past week or so has been really great. I've been having SO much fun, just living and doing the normal mundane stuff. G-money (the munchkin formerly known as "G") baked her first batch of brownies ALL BY HERSELF. I had to sit on my hands a few times so that I wouldn't ruin the experience with all my "help." They turned out wonderfully and she was so proud. Bayba (the little monkey formerly known as "A") loves helping me with anything and everything I do... and offers two-year-old wisdom and insight that frequently floors me. So, to re-cap - life is good. I just haven't been writing about it because I've been too busy living it.

Then there's the not-so-good. I had a midwife appointment, this morning, and was basically put on modified bedrest. All the physical issues of the last pregnancy have recurred, and my midwife strongly encouraged me to spend as much time as possible laying down on my left side. Admittedly, if she was an OB, I'd probably blow off this advice as too extreme and alarmist... but given that she's from The Netherlands and extremely easy-going (tends to avoid medicalizing the whole pregnancy/birth thing as much as possible), I'm inclined to take it a little more seriously.

Which is difficult enough, what with a VERY active two-year-old and all... but I told her we were planning to leave on our Holiday pilgrimage to The Homeland, this weekend... so what am I supposed to do about that? She said she'd prefer that I not travel, but she understood that this is a pretty big deal, so she wasn't going to give specific orders not to travel... but she's strongly recommending that if I travel, I take it easy and spend as much of the trip as possible sitting or, even better, laying down.

Right.

This should be fun.

But at least the baby seems to be doing great, growing well, and not trying to make an early appearance... so, really, it's all good.

The Jig is Up

Yesterday something suddenly felt different. The sore, aching hips popped in kind of a strange-feeling-almost-audible way. The symphisis has a palpable separation, probably slightly less than a centimeter. What's kind of weird is that it's slightly right of meridian... so I'm not sure what's up with that.

Anyway, bear with me here. This is not a whiney post. Not really much point in whining, now. Besides, it's not like I have a lot of time left to put in. It was a lot scarier with the last pregnancy, when I was worried that I would be stuck like this forever. Fortunately, while it took a long time, my body did take care of the healing stuff without much medical intervention. I don't see why this time should be any different. Last time I was worried about surgery and long-term pain. This time - eh... I'm just wishing I'd made it to the library before my legs quit working. Oh well. I'll get some books reserved and send Superhusband.

OK - one little whine... I MISS my deceased laptop. It was one of the very nice things about last pregnancy... Sure, I was stuck in bed, but at least I could chat online and play games. If that's the best thing I can think of to whine about, I'm in pretty good shape.

Petrificus Totalis!

Lately A has been really exercising her independence. It's a good thing she's SUPER cute because sometimes I think she goes a little beyond normal two-year-old defiance. Take last night, for example.

J was trying to do bedtime stories and every time he turned his back, A was trying to provoke her big sister. Now - G is generally an awesome big sister. She's usually very patient and very generous and kind... but let's A push her until she (G) has total emotional (we're talking drama llama) meltdowns. That's what was happening last night. G had arranged her bed just so and had the books set up and ready to go. A saw this as an opportunity to examine cause and effect. What would happen if the blanket tent fell (was pushed)? How would G react if her carefully ordered books were tossed on the floor?

I'll tell you how she'd react. She reacts the same way every time. Wailing and waterworks. Which amuses A tremendously.

So J had left the room to retrieve some absolute bedtime necessity when G began crying. He hurried back into the room. A, caught in the act of demolishing the bedtime tent, began waving her arms at her Daddy, shouting "Petrificus Totalis! Petrificus Totalis!"

Those of you unfamiliar with Harry Potter may be entertained by the fact that this is the spell the young wizards and witches use to petrify (freeze) a person or moving object. Apparently A was hoping that she could delay the inevitable parental intercession by freezing her Daddy.

Good times.

Meanwhile, in the nesting/painting issue, I'm coming to an uneasy realization. Yesterday I took A to Lowe's with me and picked up a billion paint chips. There was one color I really liked. It's a greenish gray. But I'm looking for beige... cafe au lait, if you want to get all snobby about it... Anyway, when I got home, I taped my six favorite cards up on the wall and sat back to contemplate them. I had taped my favorite (though least practical) in the center, and as I sat back I realized that it matched the wall.

Yup. Nearly a perfect match.

So all day my poor preggo-addled brain worked uneasily on the issue.

My favorite chip already matches two of the walls. But what has been really slowing me down on changing anything is the fact that I love... I mean LOVE the purple that's also on two of the walls. I think it would be good - peaceful - to make everything a uniform beige (cafe au lait!). Beige with white trim looks very pretty in the magazines.

When J got home, I told him if he really wanted to be annoyed, he should guess which of the chips was my favorite. Not wanting to miss out on the opportunity to be annoyed, he played along... and guessed the color that I thought would be the best choice (Behr Pony Tail... it looks great in all the staged shots). No, I told him... look at the one in the center... it's kind of hard to see because it blends into the wall. J was not as amused as I'd hoped he'd be.

I've been thinking (it hurts but I do it anyway) - maybe the real problem is not the colors that are on the walls but that I didn't "finish" the project. Maybe I should begin by painting the trim white. No matter what color the wall is, I want white trim anyway.

Maybe, if I took an hour or two and painted the trim on that one gray wall, I could find out that's all I'm really missing... I mentioned this to J and you would have thought I'd just invented a new microcontroller or something. Big thumbs up. So guess what I'm doing today?

Intervention

Talk me down, guys.

A nesting obsession has hit and I don't know if I can handle the fallout.

I. must. paint.

About a year ago I painted two walls of my livingroom/dining room gray and two purple. I LOVE the purple. J likes the gray (not so much the purple). Don't get me wrong - this was FUN and a vital step for me in feeling like I was really in my OWN home.

Times change. People grow up.

So, months and months ago I decided that I wanted to do all my main downstairs walls (we have an open floor plan, so all the walls kind of bleed together) a light cafe-au-lait color and paint the trim white (right now it's kind of oakey - which is probably real oak but just looks like the cheapo imitation oak to me). I've been kind of daydreaming about it - yet still enjoying my purple.

Well, last night It hit. I need to finish my main floor. NOW. Why, you ask? Window treatments of course. Duh. I want to put up wrought iron curtain rods and either deep purple (to accent my sofa) or sage green (just 'cause I like sage green... it probably wouldn't go with anything) curtains. In all our years of apartment and rental house dwelling, I've never felt motivated to take on "window treatment." Mini blinds were good enough and there wasn't any point in investing too much thought or emotional attachment to any place I'd be leaving in a year or two.

Now, after getting used to how stunning my wrought iron mirror is, I realized that motif would be fantastic to carry on to other accents in the house. In this case, curtain rods.

Big whoop, right? A quick trip to Ikea or Target and a fresh charge on my cordless screwdriver and I'm good to go! Except that there's no point in putting them up, only to have to take them down again for painting. And the oakey color of the trim just wouldn't look right.

I thought about just painting the trim for the sliding door and livingroom window (that's it - we're only talking about TWO sets of curtains/rods for this obsession) and then postponing the walls indefinitely. But... Aaaargh! I'd really like to just get the whole project done so I could sit back and enjoy the beauty of my home.

So I'm contemplating running down to Lowe's and at least getting some painter's tape. And drop cloths. And some tinted primer (the gray walls are oil-based and the purple are - well - purple). And just getting started. I'm pretty sure I can move the entertainment center and TV by myself. Not so sure about the fridge or stove. *sigh*

If I had a 10-15' ladder I'd be painting already. Yeah. HIGH ceilings in the entryway. I looked it up. Those things are expensive.

So... if any of you have wisdom to share, I'd love to hear it.

Mighty Fine Day

The rain is still coming down and roads are beginning to flood in my little corner of the world, so I thought I'd take a few minutes and post a big public Thank You to all the people who made this weekend so wonderful for me.

The Bday Bash thrown by The Urban Princess (she's the one with the magenta hair) was SO much fun! The cake was awesome (chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting)... I'm still fantasizing about it. The company was fascinating - and you simply can't beat a party where everybody can relax and be appreciated for who they are (kids and adults alike).

And Princess's mom (The Urban Queen?) treated us all to fabulous pizza when the party ran on later than planned. YUM!

I arrived home from the party to find a birthday card from my mom waiting for me in the mail. She sent me birthday money. Birthday money is pretty cool when you're a kid... but who would have thought it would mean so much more when you become an old mommy-type? Being an adult with all the fun of budgeting, I generally feel very uncomfortable about spending money on myself. It always seems like there are more important places for money to go than whatever luxury I might be dreaming about. But Birthday money? All options are open and there's no guilt about selfishness. Nice.

Yesterday my superhusband was at his superhusband best. He started off the day making a yummy breakfast (eggs, toast and bacon) before loading us all in the car for a morning of shopping (woo hoo! happy birthday to me! especially when I have birthday money burning a hole in my pocket). First stop was Barnes & Noble, where I bought 2 Foodie magazines and Fit Pregnancy (another magazine... hey - gotta have balance!). That's some decadent shopping!

Afterwards we hopped across the river to Ikea. It was so much fun to be shopping for ME! I bought a wrought iron wall mirror for my dining room (something I've been wanting ever since we moved into this house), two floor lamps, and a few kitchen utensils. And even had a few dollars left over!

We were all exhaused by the time we got out of Ikea so we came home and Superhusband made a wonderful dinner for me, after which we put the kids to bed and watched the third DVD of Season 1 of The Sopranos.

Yup. I think the past two days have pretty much proven themselves to comprise the best birthday ever.

Thanks everyone!

Old

This afternoon I'm going to The Urban Princess' house to eat cake in honor of my birthday. Woo Hoo! I'm so excited to be celebrating my birthday with my family and close friends.

I know at some point I'm supposed to reach the age where I lie about my age and claim to dread my birthdays. Apparently I haven't grown up sufficiently to be embarrassed by my age, yet. And birthdays are still nearly as fun as they were when I was a kid. Maybe not so much in my 20's when every day was spent in the shadow of a death wish... but once I hit 30... well, life just keeps getting better, so I can't imagine even feigning ennui or shame and slathering myself in wrinkle cream instead of celebrating the passage. No thanks. I prefer the cake.

Party on!