Nothing to see here.

Hello Peekers!


You're a bunch of creepers, but I love you.  In other news: it's Monday.

This is how we feel about Mondays.

Finally Friday

The memorial service was beautiful.  Family was all together - I'm sure that it made Gramma happy to see.  People laughed together and remembered how amazing our stunning matriarch was.  I could have laughed more, but hormones being what they are, I cried like a baby through most of the service.  Ben spoke about what it was to grow up with her just down the road, and I felt that he hit it out of the park.  He said things that I would have wanted to say had I been able, and for that, I feel truly grateful.  Juliet sang beautifully and gracefully as ever.  Her song choice was perfect for the occasion, and it is always a treat to hear her sing.

Lunch was served at the church, and I know that I, for one, ate too much and laughed too loudly.  Post luncheon, the immediate family convened back at the farm.  Once the rain had broken and the escaped cow had been corralled, we made our way to the family cemetery, where we sang and prayed and placed Gramma lovingly with her husband, our daddies, and my sister.  We left her favorites, Brie and a Klondike bar, and ate the rest of the Klondike bars, knowing that for once, we wouldn't be reprimanded.  

State of the Mama (to-be!): TIRED.  SORE.  Like whoa.  Yesterday was a blur of activity, during which I positively refused to stay off my feet.  There were people that I wanted to talk to - face-to-face, not face-to-belly button.  There were hugs to be had.  People brought me drinks, and the ladies of FUMC-Rockmart hid me in the kitchen so that I could eat a second breakfast of coconut pie.  Despite everyone's good intentions (including my own), I collapsed at 4PM yesterday and am still not completely recovered.  I may have finally learned my lesson, though - Cameron has been instructed to remind me that I should sit before I hurt for the duration of the pregnancy lest I regret it later.  Sometimes I have to tell him what he should say to get through to me.  It works best for everyone.  

State of the Bo: 32 weeks down, 8 weeks to go.  Probably around 17 inches long and somewhere around 4 pounds.  Residing underneath my ribs, as usual - inhibiting breathing and making me generally uncomfortable.  Most active from 10AM - 12Noon and whenever I lie down in the afternoon.  

Things to Do: Stop by Goodwill and drop off bag of donations that has been lingering in my car for the past week.  Clean out car.  Wash Tyler's sheets.  Continue recovery so that I can be in top form when I pick up kiddos tomorrow.  Choose appropriate outfit for NWM's christening.  Get together names and addresses for family baby shower.  I'm cutting off the list here.  I could keep going - but I won't - because I'm recovering.  

Does Everything Have to Have a Title?

It's been 4 days.  Tonight, we visit.  We visit with friends and family, and we tell each other that Gramma is in a better place.  We try not to feel guilty at the relief that comes from knowing that she is no longer trapped here in the physical realm with us.

Pregnancy has complicated this whole experience.  Hormones and a 4 pound person trapped in my midsection have made me extra emotional and just plain exhausted.  I was advised by the doctor on Monday to take it easy.  My blood pressure has been slowly rising for the last month or so, and while we are still in what they consider to be "normal" territory, as we approach the due date, we will be taking more precautions.  Most alarmingly to me was that the doctor now wants to see me once a week... for the next 10 weeks or until Bo decides to grace us with his presence.  Next week, we're slated to have an ultrasound and a non-stress test.  I can't help but think that this test is VERY poorly named, because even if you stick the "NON" in front of it, telling an expectant mother that she needs another test will cause stress.

Cameron will be with me, and that makes me happy.  I'm tremendously lucky to have him.  It may be a side effect of everything going on, but I feel completely out of control right now and terrified of everything.  He assures me that I am normal.  That worrying about whether or not you will be a good parent is pretty much a pre-requisite to being a good parent.  Let's hope that he's right.

My sweet sissy has been staying with us this week when she isn't out doing music teacher type things - sight reading songs with strangers for fun... seriously... sounds like a blast, doesn't it?  Anyhow, Aunt Juliet is suffering from seems to be enjoying an almost gravitational pull to my belly.  I'm slightly in denial that I am actually the size of a planet now, but it just may be because now that I think of it, Cameron is exhibiting similar symptoms.

I can worry until the cows come home, but one thing is for sure - this little guy is loved - now and forever.

Goodbye, World, Goodbye.

I have decided that it doesn't matter how prepared you are to say goodbye to someone, when it actually happens - when that person finally shuffles off this mortal coil and goes home, it won't be easy.  The selfish tears will come.  On Saturday, July 7th, my last remaining grandparent went to be with Jesus.  It hasn't been easy to watch her slip away in these final years.  I'm sure that I am not the only one who has had moments of wishing that she'd leave behind her ailing body and mind.  She told me - in the last month - that what she wanted was her freedom.


There are so many things to say about her - and to her, but I can't seem to find the words.  I, and the other grandchildren, were asked if we'd like to speak at her memorial - or even to write a letter to her.  Much as I hate to not take the opportunity, anything that I have to say to her is between us.  I always felt that we understood each other, and she has been my confidante on more occasions than I can count right now.


Selfishly, I wish that she could have hung around - long enough to meet her first great-grandson at least.  I know that she'll see him, though.  I know that she'll watch him grow.  I know that she'll love him - and we'll always love her.

Partners in Crime

Ugh.

Thank goodness it's Friday.  I woke up in the middle of the night, not just for one of my normal 'kid kicked my bladder hard enough to wake me up' potty runs, but because suddenly, I may be allergic to any and everything in my house.  I'm congested and my throat is all scratchy.  So - to work, or not to work.

Unfortunately, with impending maternity leave, sick days are like gold. 

Hi-Ho... Ho-Ho... *cough* *wheeze* *sniffle*

OOPS!

I had a new belly picture last night, but I completely forgot about it in the other excitement.  So...

30ish weeks!

So far, my journey into the third trimester has involved a reappearance of that complete and utter lack of energy that I suffered from in the first trimester.  {And just when I had almost forgotten.}  This is complicated by my inability to fall asleep or stay asleep and my desire to clean until 10 or 11PM.  So, basically - my body hates me.  


At this point, I can get heartburn from just about anything.  Most surprisingly {to me anyway}, is milk.  Whoever would have thought that the creamy deliciousness of milk could give you heartburn?


Baby Bo is kicking and squirming most of the day and night.  I might be biased, but you would not believe how strong this child of mine is.  :)  Breathing is slightly difficult at this point.  Bo has no sense of personal space, and he seems to be cramping every internal organ I have.  You don't have to tell me that it'll get worse.  Trust me, I already know.


For the last 30 weeks, I've been *slightly* stubborn - insistent that I can still do everything that I ever have done because I AM PREGNANT - NOT CRIPPLED, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.  Suddenly, though, I'm having trouble getting myself off the couch.  I need to be heaved up with the help of a darling and patient husband who apparently wants nothing more than to help when I'll allow it.  


It's getting to be time to pack that hospital bag.  It's flown by.  Some days hours minutes, I think that this baby can't come fast enough - and five minutes later, I don't ever want to let him go.  I'll share my personal space forever if he can just stay safe and sound and close by.  Nothing in my life makes any sense, but at the same time, things are falling into place better than I could have ever dreamed.

Two Birthdays and a Braves Game

Last weekend, I learned exactly why heat and pregnancy DO NOT MIX.  Don't get me wrong - I loved every minute, but the next time the forecast looks like this:

I will be cancelling my plans.

Friday, after work, Cameron and I drove to Atlanta to see the Braves play the Nationals.  This was exciting, up until my navigational skills dissolved into the mush that my pregnant brain has become and we ended up in the traffic for “Michael Jackson: The Immortal World Tour by Cirque du Soleil”.  You don't really need details on that.

Anyhow, we were only *slightly* late for the game.  We prepaid for parking in the lot directly in front of the stadium, which I would recommend to anyone going to a Braves game.  It was convenient on the front end, and if we had parked slightly smarter, we probably would have gotten out pretty quickly as well.

We were celebrating Ms. P's boyfriend's birthday - and as things are usually more fun in large groups, she had managed to corrall a nice handful of people.

These are 3 of my faves - but I'm not biased.

This happened too.  Don't get excited by that 'come hither' stare, ladies... he's all mine.

I fully expected it to be way too hot for me, but our seats were fabulous - we had a breeze through most of the game! (We were also super close to the little girls room, but I may have been the only one who was really THAT concerned about it.)  The fireworks made for a fun close to the evening, and the fact that they were set to Beatles music was the cherry on top. 

The next morning, I was invited to the sweetest first birthday party that I think I've ever attended.  Sweet Baby A was adorable as always, and there was tons of baby lovin to go around. 

Happy Birthday, beautiful girl!!

I'm officially cancelling any and all birthdays that my son might have.  I can't keep up with the cute.





Opening presents!

Watching Baby A open presents hit me hard in a very soft spot.  One of her presents was a little doll that she instantly fell in love with.  She gave the baby doll open mouthed baby kisses.  Several times, she crawled back to pick up the doll, and as I watched her do it, I suddenly thought to myself that next time, I'd be happy with a little girl.  I'm not even through this go-round, and I'm thinking of the next.  It's official.  Pregnancy makes you CRAZY.

On Sunday, there was another first birthday for another special baby. (Can't actually believe that either of these tiny people has been on this Earth for a full year, but I'll go with it.)

Another photo foiled by peek-a-boo!

There was a spread of Southern food  (pimento cheese sandwiches and devilled eggs and homemade blackberry ice cream) that alternately made me want to weep with joy and gorge myself - and at certain times, both.

There was live music, and I managed to dance a little myself.

Entertainment!

And then - the rain came.  People flooded the front porch to watch the treetops bend and sway with the promise of rain.  We held our breath and refused to roll up our car windows until there was relief.