sueeeus

Barricade, as those in the know, know, is the name of the Transformer Decepticon that masquerades as a police car. So, whenever a police car is spotted, there is always an excited exclamation, “It’s Barricade!!!!”

Last week, BB happened to peer out the window and started jumping up and down, “TWO BARRICADES!!!!!!”

As it turns out, we have some fine neighbors. One woman was arrested. We don’t know the story. The house next door has recently had the garage converted to another house, so there are two rental houses where there used to be one, and all sorts of noises and late night parties and general mayhem seems to take place there.

This morning we were working out front, pruning and weeding, and a child was crying for over an hour at the top of his/her lungs. A very, very unhappy child. What does one do? Poor thing was miserable, obviously. And then some adult yelling and shouting started, and escalated. It went on for quite some time, and eventually Gadget called the sheriff. I was a bit nervous about this, as we were obviously the only people outside, so the call would most likely have come from us, and who knows what these people might do. I tend to be nervous about things like that, being a chicken $#!t and all. The thing is, you never know what violent people might end up doing. Because they don’t seem too concerned about reeling in their emotions and all. Anyhow, not long after, along came “TWO BARRICADES!!!!!!” Apparently they come in pairs for domestic violence calls? Second time in less that two weeks. Nice.

Some day we might move to a neighborhood with a little higher socio-economic demographic, perhaps. If we can afford it. Our little cul-de-sac is generally quite nice, apart from this set of neighbors. And we don’t spend much time outside, for whatever reason. I just hope all remains safe.

In more happy news, BB earned enough Good Boy points for his next prize. He’s very pleased. Once he gets the hang of this Good Boy business, we’ll start making him work a bit harder for his points. So far it’s an excellent tool, though. It’s working great! He helps me load the dishwasher, make the bed, hang the towels, pick up toys, wash the counters, put things in the recycle or trash bins, and such. Of course I have to actually do most of these things in tandem, or re-do them, but he’s learning, and that’s the important thing. I am very pleased as well. My beautiful boy. He fills my world with much joy.

Even with the two barricades incident, I’m feeling like I’ve had a happy, happy day. Our front yard no longer competes with the front yard on Malcolm in the Middle, we have a full tank of fuel in the van, a refrigerator filled with good vegetables, fruits, milk, cheese and eggs, the baby hammock is up, the sheets and towels are clean, the hospital bag is half-packed, and we had a delicious supper of grilled sirloin and asparagus, red peppers, onions, and mushrooms. Gadget hasn’t produced the car seat yet, but he insists he knows exactly where it is.

That’s one of BB’s favorite phrases, spoken with much drama and inflection. Hey, wait a second, you forgot to make me my dragon! Spoken less than a day after making it known that he’d like a dragon, too, just like LB’s. (Which I hadn’t actually made, yet.)

Silly goose, I didn’t forget. I just haven’t had time yet! As if I could whip one up with a wave of my magical wand. I did manage to produce it that day, though, and BB was quite pleased. I followed up last night with LB’s, which didn’t turn out as well, in some respects, but turned out better in others. It’s all a learning experience. I used the serger on LB’s and the seams, when turned, aren’t as pretty. But I also used it to connect as many of the pieces as possible prior to stuffing, so it came out much stronger. LB’s has the white belly, and BB’s is all blue cloud. They’re sweet. I enlarged the pattern as much as I could with my printer, and this is the result.

All in a day’s work. Well, an afternoon and evening. I also made a hedgehog pincussion from a pattern I got while visiting Suse earlier this year, and using some of that scrumptious hand dyed wool felt from Winterwood Toys.

I think it’s adorable!

I do enjoy the hand stitching and small feltwork much more than the machine work. I also think I’m finished sewing for a while. I’ve been on a maniacal roll with it of late. I think it’s a form of nesting. I’ve taken all the sewing and craft doodads that have been cluttering my office and organized them and filed them away neatly. My office is looking a bit tidier, and this gives me comfort.

Now. On the agenda for today: prune the front yard shrubbery, pull the weeds, and trim the grass (all very long overdue – the approach to our house is frankly embarrassing). Set up the baby hammock. Retrieve the infant sized car seat and base from storage. Get groceries and fuel the car. Wash sheets and towels. Pack my hospital bag. Give BB lots of opportunities to earn Good Boy Stars so that he can possibly get a ‘prize’ today (Gadget happened upon the coveted Batman costume and it’s hidden away for the next Good Boy milestone). Not a bad list for a Saturday. Maybe tomorrow I’ll update my blog software. Or not. I keep getting these notices of important security updates. BORING. No more sewing, though.

Sometimes, when you’re a woman of advanced maternal age, and you are overweight (obese, technically), and you have type II diabetes (but you really think that you are more borderline and not actually over the edge) which has escalated to insulin dependent gestational diabetes, and you are 36 weeks along, and when your fundal measurement is 43, and you’ve gained five pounds in one week, and when your regular doctor is on vacation, you might find yourself face to face with some stranger who knows nothing about you, and asks you why you didn’t bring your blood sugar log in to this appointment (when you brought it to the last appointment and that substitute doctor didn’t even ask to see it until you told her that your usual doctor had wanted you to show it to her, and then she didn’t show any real interest in it, anyway, so you figured you’d not bother this time, especially because there are about three or four really bad entries in it, and why subject oneself to the tsk tsk bad girl you shouldn’t have eaten that rice or that muffin reprimand, especially when you’re on the teetering edge of tears with the least infliction of guilt, judgment, or criticism) so you tell him that your morning sugars have been in the 90s and your post-prandials around 140 or so (which is more or less true, except for the few odd points)…

…that substitute doctor with the charming bedside manner might say, “Someone hasn’t been watching what she eats very well,” and then insist that an appointment be scheduled sooner than later to go over the numbers to determine whether any additional adjustments to the insulin should be made.

…and that same doctor with the charming bedside manner might wrinkle up his face and remeasure you two or three times and scratch his head and say something to the effect of “do you realize how big you are measuring, and we ought to get you in for another ultrasound,” after which you assure him that yes, you know you are measuring big, your last child measured big, and your normal doctor is well aware of it, and you are scheduled for a c-section anyway, because you already know you’ve got a giant baby growing in there.

…after which that same substitute doctor with the charming bedside manner might ask whether you’re getting your tubes tied during the c-section, and when you say no, you are not planning on it, and he looks at you with shock and horror and asks why not, and you answer that you don’t want to do that, and possibly your husband might get the snip instead, to which he asks why on earth you would subject your husband to an unnecessary procedure when you will be open already and the procedure will take less than a minute to put the little tiny clamps on the tubes and there will be no hormonal ramifications because the ovaries are not affected in the least, and in fact, your chance of various female cancer(s) is actually reduced…

…if you’re anything like me, you have a very difficult time maintaining your composure until you’re safely tucked away inside your car-pod at which time you sob your eyes out all the way home, at the same time wondering vaguely what all the passersby are thinking of the overweight forty-something pregnant woman bawling her eyes out…

…and you try to be objective about it and wonder why you are really so upset, but you just can’t seem to get past the part about NOT BEING READY TO MAKE A DECISION TO COMPLETELY SHUT THE DOOR ON ANY FUTURE CHILDREN, even though you know you probably shouldn’t even consider the possibility, given all the factors, and you may actually not even want to have more, and most likely you wouldn’t even be able to have any more, based simply on how hard it was to get to here, but you just don’t one hundred percent know what you want, and what you should do, and you’re just NOT READY TO MAKE THAT KIND OF A DECISION NOW, or in the next two weeks, for that matter, and even though he claims there are no hormonal ramifications, you are oh, so very leery, because you’ve lived a lifetime with tweaked-out hormones and the last thing you want to do is rock that boat any more than it’s already rocked.

…and then, when your husband calls, because he’s working late and he needs you to do the daycare pickup, and he can hear in your voice that you’ve been crying, and you say it’s because you didn’t much like the doctor you saw today, and he demands to know WHO it was, so he could call him and bawl him out for being such a jerk, you completely skip the whole part about the tubal ligation, which is really what you’re most upset about (because of course it’s as perplexing to your husband as it is to the charming doctor as to why one wouldn’t want to get a tubal when one is already laid out open on the operating table, and how selfish it is to even suggest something as vile and emasculating as a vasectomy to a perfectly healthy and whole male, God forbid.)

…So I guess that’s what it’s mostly all about. I don’t want to make a decision. I thought I’d already made the decision, which is, let Gadget get snipped, and if he’s not amicable to that (which he isn’t much), take our chances or just be abstinent (which is basically the same thing, when it comes down to it).

It’s nearly 4 a.m. and once again, I can’t sleep. Prescription: decaf tea, laptop, camera & a heartburn pill. Above? That’s what I can see from here. Right now. Great wide expanses of belly!

I think LB is dropping or has dropped. He seems to be low now, my lungs aren’t as squished, and new pains have taken residence in the pelvic region. BB never did drop. I had him at 39 wks and he was way up high, happy as a clam. Maybe he was too big to drop. He was 10lb 7oz, after all.

It’s something, how much a body can change from week to week, and even day to day.

From the front view (at 35 wks) the belly gives the illusion that I might actually have a waist, which I don’t, and haven’t for years. So the voluminous pregnancy look suits me, I think. As does the blonde. I really like being blonde! Who would have ever known or guessed it could be pulled off?

And the side view. Oh, the side view. It’s quite amazing to me that I’m not riddled with stretch marks. But then again, I was nicely pre-stretched. And it continues to astound me that this belly (above) is 5 weeks short of term, and there’s only one child in there. Don’t they grow about an ounce a day from here on out? Mercy!

We’re 36 wks now. Only two weeks until the big day! My niece had her baby at 35 wks, induced due to preeclampsia, and she was born healthy and sound with no respiratory issues. It helps me feel more confident about the 38 wks delivery decision. And thankful that I’ve never had a blood pressure scare. Now, I just hope that LB plans to stick around in there for another two weeks. So far, no Braxton-Hicks contractions, no real contractions. Lots of poking and prodding and rolling and squirming. It’s something to watch, when you see all the shifting taking place under the skin, before your very eyes. A bit eerie to some (of the male gender), who tend to think it’s freaky and alien. To me? Magical.

I’m looking forward to holding my beautiful LB, and gazing into his wondrous tiny face, but at the same time, knowing how my life is about to change makes me want to savor these last several days as much as I possibly can. Lots of snuggling and teasing and laughing with BB. Alone time at 4 a.m. with heartburn. It’s all time to treasure.

A must, according to Suse.

…Elinor Dashwood!

You are Elinor Dashwood of Sense & Sensibility! You are practical, circumspect, and discreet. Though you are tremendously sensible and allow your head to rule, you have a deep, emotional side that few people often see.

Take the Quiz here!

Babes in arms. Soon.

There has been a marked silence in blogland lately, particularly amongst the ladies in waiting. I’ve been hoping that we are all just going through the frantic and harried late third trimester nesting times in which all is well with the babes, and we are just too busy with wrapping together the pieces of our lives that need to be taken care of before our bundles of joy arrive. It can be so stressful, these last few weeks, when the doctors say to heed the movements and make sure you feel at least 10 movements every two hours, and if not, CALL. I’m finding myself looking at the clock, wondering why LB hasn’t moved, gently prodding my belly to see if I can get him to squirm, and either feeling panic or joy when I don’t or do get a response. And then there’s the fear that I’ll go into labor at any time, and even though he’s a big robust boy already, it’s still too early, so please, please don’t come yet. And then there’s the office. The loads and loads of loose ends to tie up. All the things to get in order for an extended absence. Finding all the things that must be delegated and delegating them properly so that all will be well. Finishing things that have been in work for ages. Anticipating what might come up whilst away, just in case. The management tends to get a bit nervous when they know you are single thread and there’s nobody else who can fill in for task X, should the need arise. And even though I am single thread on many things I do, the chances are that no emergencies will arise in my absence. And the company will go on. My single threadedness remains only the smallest drop in a very large bucket. So I won’t actually let that bother me. Much. I have much more important things on the horizon with which to prioritize my emotions, thoughts, and energy.

Today I’ve caught up on several posts and projects that have been rattling around. I made some bibs for our bloggy babes. My hand painting is crude – the pencil sketches turned out much nicer than the actual product, once rendered in paint. And even though it’s not much, and they didn’t turn out as well as I’d hoped and imagined, it’s something that I wanted to do.

Now, to send them off!

I’ve been on a roll.

I’ve had some sewing projects on my mind for some time, and have finally tackled them. This dragon pattern is from Winterwood Toys in Australia, and I fell in love with it when I first saw it. I bought the kit, which is a divine rainbow hand dyed wool felt, but I wanted to try it with plain fabric as well. Also, I only get one chance with that wonderful wool, so I wanted to do a practice run anyway. When I do the wool, it will be for my new little one. But big brother has announced that he wants one too. My fingers will be quite sore from stitching!

I had visions of using fun fabrics and the rolled edge serger stitch to make all sorts of fast and fabulous toys, but learned quickly, during my recent foray into the land of piggies, that that wasn’t to be. I didn’t even attempt to use the serger on this dragon. The pattern, when I opened it, seemed so small. The display that I thought I remembered in the store was much larger. My memory is probably off. I enlarged the pattern by quite a bit, and the end product is still smaller than I’d imagined it would be, but I think it’s delightful. I made some modifications, in that I stuffed the wings and didn’t quilt them, and I made my own mane pattern, since the original pattern was missing that detail. Also, I stuffed it. It looks like a pompadour in the photo!

I was planning on making two, but all this detail work is more than I imagined, so I’m not ready to take on another. Except the wool versions. And then I’ll be hand-stitching. I’m finding that I enjoy the wool and the hand-stitching.

All in all, I love the look of these small toys, but the execution is excrutiating. My fingers are sore from stitching and turning and stuffing such tiny pieces. I don’t know how toy makers do it. It’s a fun project to tackle once in a blue moon though!

I’ve been meaning to make these for quite some time. I had the pattern squirreled away for over twenty years, but couldn’t find it. Then my grandmother relinquished the coveted heirloom set to my mother, who passed it to me, and I was able to make a new pattern from them.

The beginnings.

I also wanted to try toy making with my serger, using the rolled edge stitch, which I LOVE. Sadly, I’m learning that sergers don’t do well with small things or curves. They work great for long straight things. It could very well be me, though. I’m new to sergers.

I used the serger on the mother, but went back to the old fashioned tried and true sewing machine for the piglets. Even so, I find that making such small things is quite difficult with a machine. It would have helped if I’d chosen friendlier fabrics, but I had my heart set on these fun prints.

Some of the piglets are a bit wonky, but isn’t that the way siblings are? Some have different characteristics than others, but they all have their finer points (siblings, not stuffed piglets). All in all, I think they exhibit personality. Not the best workmanship, but they’re cute, and I’m not displeased.

Spurred by a recent visit to Target in which we found it impossible to steer past the toy aisle without the young lad going berserk, I devised a plan. No, you can’t have everything you see and everything you want. These things are privileges, and you must earn them.

Okay, so I tried to put it in terms of 3-1/2 year old language skills. The Good Boy Chart. I made a set of magnets with happy pictures and a chart with ten spaces to fill. Good boy deeds earn magnets. But they can also be forfeited. So it’s one step forward, two steps back. But he gets it! So all week he’s been working on earning stars, and he is now very close to earning a reward. He wants a Batman mask.

Last night he opted to continue with his bad behavior, and have a star removed. It was quite amazing to me, that he weighed the cost of the transgression, and decided he’d rather go on doing what he was doing, which was something he wasn’t supposed to be doing, but which was FUN! …and forfeit a star.

I can see we’re going to have our work cut out for us.

We did remove the star, then he decided he’d go ahead and stop doing what he wasn’t supposed to be doing. He wanted the star back, because he’d stopped, but I explained that he had had his chance, and now he has to earn it back again.

I’m a tough mamma-jamma.

*~*~*~*~*~*

My 8 year old nephew is spending the weekend, and my little guy’s behavior slides drastically during such times. He (my nephew) is the sweetest boy, but I think my son just gets too wound up and excited to have him here. Consequently, there were meltdowns and a significant loss of stars. This morning we worked hard doing jobs to earn them back. Sadly, Target was freshly out of the coveted Batman mask, but happily, they had a bazillion other things to choose from, and my little one was tickled pink to get to choose… …a Transformer -Barricade- which also, as luck would have it, was marked down to $5 from $20. Woot.

Swinging, as in mood swings. And not so much swinging as a general tendency towards irritability. Directed mainly at Gadget. Of course. It doesn’t help that he snaps back, rather than graciously understanding and accepting that I’m at the mercy of raging hormones, and this is just another stage in the journey. See how cleverly I don’t take any responsibility for my behavior?

Swelling. As if there wasn’t enough of that already. It seems to contribute to the full body aches. The weight is climbing rapidly now, as evidenced by the indentations left in my skin from even the least amount of pressure. I decided to rest for a while around 8:30 p.m., fell asleep until 10:30, awoke with hands numb, tingling, and swollen. I might have tried to continue sleeping, except I’d forgotten to administer my insulin and I decided I ought to drink more fluids in an attempt to address the swelling situation. Then I started thinking of this, that, and the other thing (we shall call it nesting), so couldn’t go back to sleep anyway.

Nesting. Instead, I emptied two kitchen drawers and filled them with bottles, breast-pump supplies, burp towels and bibs. The diaper station is well on its way to being nicely stocked with teensy tiny diapers, wipes, Desitin, A&D ointment, towels and baby blankets. Still milling about my mind are other things to do. Nothing critical, at this point. Just some sewing projects.

I’ve pre-registered with the hospital and with my insurance company, submitted my leave of absence paperwork and submitted my short term disability claim, coordinated my leave and return to work schedule with my boss and lead, registered for the use of the mother’s room at the office (which is nearly fully booked, but since I will have the luxury, thank the heavens above, of telecommuting most days for several months, I can take care of the lactation business in the comfort and privacy of my own home), and updated my on-line calendars with my leave and return schedules. As far as work goes, I’m good to go. Apart from actually wrapping up all the projects I’m working on, that is.

There are three people in my little corner of the world who do the particular line of work that we do, and both my lead (the Guru) and I (the Capable Sidekick) will be gone for a full week at the end of August, leaving Chicken Little alone with the sky falling. My lead said it will be good for him, which prompted me to ask how he (the Guru) remains so calm all the time, and he said, simply, will it matter in six months? If not, then it’s not worth getting all worked up over now. Genius! Why has it never occurred to me to apply such criteria? I could have skipped that whole Zoloft phase. In our work, we deal with multi-million-dollar products and the owners thereof, and it’s so easy to be whipped into a frenzy by their demands, so this golden nugget of learning how to put things in perspective and place a little distance between the stress and the bigger picture is just that. Golden. So. The work projects that I don’t finish? Will it matter in six months that I haven’t finished them? Probably not. If someone else doesn’t finish them (and they won’t –I generally work independently on these special projects), then I’ll just pick up where I left off when I return. No sweat. It’s so liberating!

Well, the daily brush fires will have to be dealt with, but my own projects will wait if need be.  The Guru will, of course, be fine, and Chicken Little will have to find a way to cope. I will not worry. Nay, I will not even think of them! I’ll be swaddling, snuggling, caring for and reveling in my beautiful little boy.

I confirmed that my insurance covers 96 hours of hospital stay following the birth of the baby, during which time such special services as lactation specialists are covered, and after which they are not, therefore my plan is to demand that I stay in hospital until my milk comes in and I’m confident that my little guy is feeding well, assuming this takes place within 4 days. Surely my milk will come in by then. Our hospitals are notorious for moving mothers through as quickly as possible, so I’m planning to stand firm on this. I don’t want a repeat of the lactation nightmares endured with my first beautiful boy, and want to take full advantage of what the insurance plan will allow.

And my beautiful boy’s birth date has been changed to August 27th. I’ll have the amnio done on the morning of the 25th and find out by that afternoon whether his lungs are ready, and if so, it’s a go. If not, we wait until the next week. I’m fairly confident that he’ll be ready, but I have nothing at all to base that upon, other than I’ve been controlling the blood sugar fairly well, so his development shouldn’t be impaired by the diabetes. He might not even be a hulking Goliath after all. So far, he’s measuring a bit smaller than my first was at this stage, and he’s coming a full week earlier as well, which may translate to a pound or so. He sure seems bigger, though. I feel bigger, and I think I am bigger, even though I weigh less than I did last time. It’s a head scratcher. We shall see. He’ll show us.

Meanwhile…

…I’m getting so excited!