Eviction Notice Served

Dear Stella,

I don't blame you for getting all warm and comfy in "House o' Mama". You have everything you need - food, water, air, warmth, love, shelter - all your basic necessities. I get it, its a pretty sweet setup. At one point in my early existence, I didn't see a reason to leave either as I was 2 weeks late myself. However, you will not get a chance to be late. In fact, you will not get a chance to be on time. Matt and I, along with my doctor, have decided that you can either come out on your own in the next few days or we will be evicting you on Wednesday.

Why you ask? Well, you're getting big and considering the size of your Daddy and the size of your Aunt & Uncles (at birth and currently), it is very likely that you could work your way up to a hefty weight. One day, you will understand that no woman in the world is interested in birthing a big baby. Also, your Mother is completely done with being pregnant (again, something you'll understand later - much later - in life). There is also the convenience of it, which I admit is selfish and unnecessary however, there is something to be said for being able to plan Grandparent visits* and other various life events.

At my last doctors appointment, he 'squished' you so that he could feel where you were and make sure you were still in the correct position. I take it you didn't appreciate it much as you gave him one heck of a kick back (and this wasn't the first time you showed him your disapproval). He chuckled a bit and said "Well, she's solid.", which your Daddy and I have decided is doctor-speak for huge. With that one statement, I became completely comfortable with this decision.

So, little missy, on Wednesday September 30, I will enter the hospital at 7am, and be hooked to an IV containing a drug that will get this whole experience kick started. We will see you later that day and begin the process of getting to know each other and settling in. That is, of course, if I can pry you out of your Father's arms. We're both excited to meet you but he's wearing that silly grin he gets when something makes him really really happy. (You'll get to know this grin very well)

*Your Grandparents will all be here and I'm pretty sure we will have to protect you from your Grandmothers who both have full intentions of kissing and squeezing the skin right off your little body. I apologize to you in advance - they could not love you more if they tried and you will learn to appreciate it.

SAHD

Several weeks ago, I read an article* about the growing trend of couples chosing for the man to be a Stay at Home Husband/Father. There are plenty of articles out there these days as we see more husbands taking on this role however, this article in particular caught my attention as it stated that many professional women lose interest in and respect for their stay at home husbands over time, resulting in divorce.

My first thought was, "How can you say that? This trend hasn't been happening that long."
My second thought was, "Really?"
My third thought was, "Those people are Nuts."
My final thought was, "If it doesn't work for you, make a different decision before you give up on your marriage. Geeeeez!"

I put the article down with the intention to forget it however, it continued to spring into my mind. Today was one of those days that I thought about this article. See, Matt and I have made a similar decision. Though he works, its free lance and he spends most days at home or working from home. He will be the primary caretaker for Stella, and honestly, me with minimal outside care needed. This being said, here's how our week has been so far:

Monday: Matt got up with me in the morning and made my lunch as I am perpetually running late since entering these final weeks of pregnancy and dinner was on the stove when I got home.

Tuesday: Again, Matt made my lunch in the morning, brought my water bottle to me at work (which I forgot, again, I blame the pregnancy), cleaned/vacuumed the house, made dinner in the evening.

Wednesday: Rinse and repeat - my lunch had a homemade chocolate chip cookie in it (Yum!)and the house smelled wonderful when I walked the door this evening

So now I think back to that article and I think, "WHAT? REALLY?!". I don't know how a woman - a professional, educated woman - can not respect a man that can and will take care of her - in a domesticated sense. It makes my head hurt. I love the mess out of him. I have nothing but respect and appreciation for him and I just really really really like him. A lot.

So Honey, I thank you, for taking care of me, keeping track of me and keeping up with the house and cooking. I will try not to be jealous when your attention is diverted, very shortly, from me to Miss Stella. I wouldn't want anyone else in the world taking care of her or us.

*Of course, I can not locate it right now.

Pregnancy Brain

I would normally keep my stupid (aka: pregnant) moments to myself and just continually pick on my dear husband, but that just wouldn't be fair would it? Plus, this one, I have to admit is funny. So here you go, behold my pregnant stupid moment.

Matt and I were watching Jeopardy the other night as we always do when eating dinner. This answer came up: "This Red Hot Chili Pepper bears the name of the capital of French Guiana".
My immediate thought was "Well, what are the names of some different types of peppers?" This is a reasonable thought considering the answer that was given, correct? I mean it made sense to me at least.

What didn't make any sense whatsoever was the question that my brain came back with: Who is Flea? **

FLEA!

That is the question I came up with - Who. is. Flea.? This was the only response that my pregnant brain could spew. Instead of saying Cayenne or Poblano or Jalepeno or Green or any other pepper, my brain says FLEA!

**(For those of you who have no idea who or what I mean by "Flea", I will explain. There is a popular rock band called The Red Hot Chili Peppers. The bassist for this band is called "Flea".)


Go ahead. Point and laugh. I can take it. However in my defense, I knew it wasn't correct I just couldn't get my brain to switch gears because I am very very pregnant.

Sigh.

The Day Matt Became His Father

Today, we finished painting the shutters on the second floor. It didn't take too long to do but was one of those things that needed to be marked off the list before Stella arrives. About half way through, Matt asks me if we have knee pads anywhere because his knees are right at rung level and are beginning to hurt.

He comes down, goes inside - convinced we have knee pads somewhere. I remained outside when the front door opens suddenly and I see this:

and hear: I knew this day was coming

Me: (???)

Matt: The day I become my Father.

You know those dust masks you can buy at your local hardware store? Yep. That's what he has around his knees. These had just enough padding so he didn't feel the rung of the ladder on his knees. And people, I am ashamed to admit that I allowed him to walk around outside just like this. I'm sure the neighbors are questioning what type of people we are.

Then I realized that one day, Stella is going to see this picture and demand a paternity test because this man just can not be her Father.

Sorry little girl, he's all yours. Learn to deal with it.

36 Weeks

Yep. You guessed it. It's me again in my housework clothes. This weekend was the finishing of the kitchen. (Stay tuned for pictures) OOOooooo, would you just look at that belly!!! HOLY BABY!

This picture is known as "Done-lop" as in "My belly done-lopped over my belt"- only it forgot to actually lop. I spend a large amount of time pulling the front of my shirt down. I just can't justify buying new maternity shirts for the last 3 weeks. It's just silly.

I also spend quite a bit of time telling her to get out already. I would just LOVE to see my feet again - or better yet, be able to tie my shoes without hurting myself. Oh, and not that I mean to brag but with three weeks left, I've managed to avoid the whole stretch mark thing. Keep your fingers crossed that this remains the case for a few more weeks.

He's Not Heavy

He's My Brother. **

At least that's what I hope Iddle is saying while Mouse is sitting his fat behind on him. There's a reason Mouse is frequently called "Mouse-loaf", "Chubalicious", "Fat Bastard", "Porter-Mouse" - the list goes on.

Household saying often heard in this house pertaining to Mouse: When he hauls ass, he's got to make two trips!

**(True statement. They are from different litters but the same Mama-cat. Also brothers to Sid & Klaus of the Sarah and the Goon Squad variety)

Alternate Titles:

Does this make my butt look big? or Is there something on my butt?