Better news

*Whew!* The alternator in my car is tip-top. No major repairs were called for, just a tune up. So my ride is golden.

Now, as promised, I'll tell the camera story.

When C. and I went skiing in Copper Mountain, I stashed some dried fruit and nuts inside my Camelbak and a banana into my pocket for the lift ride. Since I had my camera, I figured it'd be great to snap some quick looks of our second snow outing together in two years.

After mayhem before our first run -- my binding promptly snapped off when I went to latch in, so not only were my bindings a loss, I had to rent skis for the first time in 11 years -- we were enjoying the mountain despite the 17-degree temperature and blowing snow. Really, it was a good time ... C. on his snowboard, me on my rental sticks.

So I decided to take some photos on the lift, and discovered two things that should never mingle. Delicate camera parts and a smashed banana. I had falled hard on the previous run, catching a ski edge on a patch of ice and (somehow) doing a belly flop onto the snow. I had the wind knocked out of me, but then I found the strength to giggle uncontrollably. Little did I know, my camera was on its last leg.

So I took these photos ... in chronological order of the final pictures my trusty Nikon point-and-shoot ever will take.

Chris on the lift.

You can see the frozen banana sludge.

It really was that snowy and cold.

Thank goodness for my neck gaiter. Brr!

Squint. You'll see trees. I promise.

The haze in the center of the lens is not snow, it's banana!

Not only is the camera happy to be alive at this point, but this was the last picture it captured, and boy am I happy it was this grown up little man, fresh off his first day of charming the day care ladies! All that flirting is tiresome. I'm surprised at how clean the lens looks here.


So now after all that camera drama, I have drug out my manual 35mm Pentax. I have to adjust f-stop, shutter speed and manually focus on the subject, which not-surprisingly has been Big B. It's actually fun, but not so great for those "Get the camera!" moments. I guess I just have to get faster. I'll keep you all posted once I get my roll back from Snapfish. So far, the picture dial reads 7, so once I hit 24 and manually rewind the film (yes, I have to do that, too), I'll pop it in the mail.

Good news, bad news

I found the camera*.

My alternator in the Nissan might have crapped out tonight.

*Story TK.

I can't make this up

Just seen:

In the lotion and soap basket in the bathroom at work, there's a bottle of lotion called Pecan Passion.

It's slogan?

A love so irresistible, it will drive you nuts.

The stuff made me smell like Dillards.

4 months old

Four short months ago, I didn't know I could be so in love.

As expected

For all my pontificating about our household sleep patterns in this post, I've been subjected to late-night torture since last Sunday night.

It began in Copper Mountain, where B.'s second night there was one to forget. We couldn't tear outta town fast enough because we knew once in the car, he'd pass out. (And he did.) But just last night, he got up at least four times, prompting me to wake C. for back up. We're definitely not of the bleary-eyed persuasion we once were during the first couple of weeks, but nobody's sleeping like a baby in this house. Not even the baby.

I hope all is well and his little gurgly tummy and tiny toots are to blame (lest you worry, I'm not going to be talking about baby poop and spit up all the time). Another reason could be that it was the "milestone ghost." Rumor has it when babies get near a milestone, their tiny brains work so hard round the clock trying to master their new skill, they can't turn it off. And B. now has some mad rolling skills to show for it.

As I write while my two favorite guys are napping, please help me in wishing Mr. Sandman wears out his welcome here very soon!

A glimpse

Picture this: Me in my bathrobe. C. holding the wee one and rocking back and forth. We're hanging out on a Saturday morning. Chillaxing, if you will. Just then, a familiar song fills the room.

Aww, yeah.

We cranked up the volume and started dancing around like fools. I was singing and tapping a wire whisk on the side of a bowl, C. was bobbing up and down and swaying and B. just looked at the two of us like we were the dorkiest parents on earth.

When the Beastie Boys' She's Crafty comes on, you just have to drop everything and dance.

Throwback Thursday

Sassy. Need I say more?



On second thought, I love how light my hair was (and thin!) and the upholstery on the outdoor bench. So '70s.

Wordless Wednesday

Baby's first

...day at day care. Nalik cared for B. while we spent the afternoon skiing and snowboarding at Copper Mountain. I think I had the worst time with it, crying while I walked out the door. I called halfway through the day and asked how he was, where the report was that he was fantastic, he had a rest, had been playing and was not upset at all. He also ate like a champ. Thanks, Nalik!

Hi from Copper

B. sure has a beautiful "back yard."

Terrified

I'm suddenly scared that B.'s inching so close to turning 4 months old (only nine days now).

I am also shaking in fear over this little phrase: 4-month sleep regression.

I found this link through a friend's Web site, and my issue is clear.

B. is sleeping through the night. Well. He has about one or two nights a week -- max -- where he'll wake up. Once. It's usually a quick fix and either C. or I am back in bed in 20 minutes. We're never awake more than an hour. On average, he's going to bed between 10 and 11 at night and waking up about 7 or 8.

We don't have bags under our eyes and are nowhere near the sleep-deprivation state we were in just after birth. This is real.

I'm hoping the so-called regression is not.

P.S. I realized I just jinxed myself for patting B., C. and myself on the back for all the Zs being had in our household and I'll be subjected to inconsolable late-night fits for the next century. Shame on me.

Throwback Thursday

So where do you think B. gets his cheeks? This is me at 6 months. Loving the old jar of Avon skin cream on the shelf.

Popcorn, please

If you ignore the hideous singing by yours truly, you can hear the blissful sound of my son laughing heartily.

Only in the city

I know I complain a lot about having to walk part of the way to work, but on the nice days, it really is a treat.

Not only can I admire the tall buildings, I get overloaded with people watching.

I see cars whipping by, people on cell phones at the wheel, not really seeing that I, the pedestrian, am there.

I see parents walking with their children, hands wrapped tightly together.

I see businessmen, businesswomen, citizens appearing for business at the Denver City and County Building, I see people enjoying a sunny winter day at Civic Center Park.

Nearby, a woman with her little girl in pajamas with skid-proof soles and a parka sit on the grass, eating bite-size foods out of a small plastic bag. Cheerios?

Cyclists. Panhandlers. Wanderers. Lawyers. Policemen. Students. Everyone is there.

And I even get to enjoy the views late at night on my drive home. Sometimes I drive by the Denver Coliseum on my way to I-70, sometimes straight past Coors Field. That's the route I chose last night when I spied this mural on the side of Snooze restaurant.

Yep, only in the city can you find oompa loompas, Augustus Gloop and Charlie himself.

Happy ...

... birthday to me. :D

As promised ...

...photos from Chinese New Year.

A performer.
















C. with a creature peering over his shoulder.
















B. peeks out to watch the action.

---

In other discovery news, while B.'s been sucking on his fists for weeks, he finally really saw them for the first time. There he sat in my lap, right hand outstretched in front of his face, fingers extended and eyes wide and curious.

He slowly rotated his chubby wrist, carefully taking stock of every knuckle, fingernail and dimple in his hand. This lasted for at least a full minute!

Downtown

I snapped this photo from the car on my way to work (at a stop light on Broadway).

Baby's first...

...Chinese New Year, or Spring Festival, celebration.

And it all was by accident.

The family and I went over to Grandma's house, then we joined her boyfriend for some dinner at Heaven Dragon in Arvada. (Its sister store in Thornton is the one President Bush orders from anytime Air Force One stops in the area. He's even honored with his own special on the menu. Lest you worry, it's not what C. and I ordered.)

We weren't expecting festivities bringing in the Year of the Rat, but while we munched on kung pao chicken, lemon chicken, a Happy Family combo, rice and egg rolls, a loud crackling of fireworks outside the front door caught our attention. Teen-age boys in dragon and lion costumes began snaking through the tables. Drum beats echoed through the dining room. Then a pair of young boys came through in their costume, stopping long enough at my side to pose for a photo. The boy in front was busy maneuvering the mouth, ears and eyes on his bright costume.

I heard crying, but knew it wasn't B. I looked over at him in his carseat, and he was sleeping soundly. The noise came from the table next to ours. A little blond-haired girl was crouched underneath by her mom's legs, plugging her ears. The tears left tiny wet tracks down her cheeks.

The fireworks didn't wake or startle B., but later some of the other commotion did. Either that or he just had to see what was going on.

I promise pictures later.

Handwriting

I saw my dad's handwriting yesterday, which surprised me since it was in my checkbook ledger.

Two entries. Four letters. Four numbers. NMSU. 41.97.

Just as he would write it. Written by me.

It reminded me of a tribute book for my grandmother's 80th birthday that all the family members wrote in. On the first page, I saw my brother's handwriting. But he hadn't been there and couldn't have written it in person. The reason? Dad wrote it. A cousin said it was our late grandfather's way of making sure everyone was spoken for. I'll say.

So I guess I write like my dad. Sometimes I write like my mom. Sometimes I do things that remind me of both parents. I'm organized like Dad while being slightly chaotic like Mom. I sneeze like Mom. I yawn like Mom. I work crosswords like Dad. Sometimes, I can't finish a sentence or a train of thought, like Dad.

Trying to digest all this, I thought of the things B. will do that remind C. and I of one of us. Already, I watch C. sleep and look at B. They pucker their lips the same way when they snooze. I've seen B. smile and C.'s dimple emerges on B.'s left cheek.

What traits will he pick up from me? Only time will tell. But it sure will be fun watching it all unfold.

Grab some Milk Duds

This just in: B. is finding his voice!

Wordless Wednesday

Across the miles

It's been a week since I've seen Grandpa, Uncle M. (or Uncle "Mick" as Grandpa has tagged him), Aunt M. and cousins
M. & E. in Minnesota (my first plane trip, by the way, and it wasn't bad at all! I didn't cry, which made Mom, Dad and our fellow travelers quite happy).



I wish we didn't live so far apart from each other, and I just wanted to say I love and miss you very much! Can't wait to see you again.

Love, B.

Sights and sounds

Walking to work yesterday, I was crossing the City and County Building steps when a very irate man stomped by, yelling into his cell phone in a very intimidating, booming voice:

I don't want to see him in that f**king house. You want to see him, go somewhere else.

A woman about a dozen paces behind him was walking the opposite direction of me. When our eyes met, we both giggled, wondering who was in trouble on the other end of the line.




Also seen and heard yesterday during work, snow flurries accompanied by thunder? Lightning? Yes, folks, it was the most bizarre thing I've ever seen in all my years living in Denver, where our motto is, "Don't like the weather? Wait 5 minutes."

T-minus 1 day

This time tomorrow, I will be driving to work, probably crying my eyes out thinking of B. Good thing is, he'll be with his daddy.

I've been off for three months and it has all been great, but since nearly all of us have to work, I know it's what I've got to do. I'm sure it will get easier, but just thinking about it makes me sad.

So in the meantime, I'm going to truly enjoy the next 24 hours!

Rockin' the ear flaps

Before becoming quite ill Tuesday, I finished knitting a new hat for B. We are, after all, traveling to Minnesota on Friday. He'll definitely keep warm in this, plus it will be harder for him to tug it off once I have the ear flaps fastened underneath his chubby chin.

Here he is before I did all the finishing, yarn ball still attached:


Here he is sporting nothing but his stylish lime green hat (well, a diaper, too, but had you wonderin'!):

And, yes, those eyes still are very blue!

1,000 words

B. with Great Grandma F. My brother and I were saying how special it is to have her hold my child in a room where she held all of her grandchildren and her own children when they were the same size. Wow.

B.'s first whole bottle.

More rolls than a bakery!

Can we get the camera any closer?

Oh, you're in trouble when I go to Grandma's.

Flashing smiles while playing in his gym.

Only I can look this cool covered in olive oil (some silly cradle cap treatment Mom read in a book).

Vaccinations suck

Big B. is lucky his legs are so chunky. The nurse at his 2-month appointment said the vaccinations hurt a lot less for kids with a little meat on their legs.

So now at every upcoming checkup, B. gets the same round of shots. Three shots and an oral medicine, not counting the infant acetaminophen to help him deal with the soreness at the injection site. I got the adult version of one of the same vaccinations about three weeks ago and my arm hurt for a good five days.

Sorry, little dude. We've got to go through the same routine at 4, 6, 12 and 18 months. But with as great a job as you did yesterday, methinks you'll be an even bigger rock star next time.


Here's B. just before his shots. He put his head right on Daddy's chest, calmly listening to his heartbeat. He just didn't know what was in store next.

Just below are the big guy's battle wounds. He has another bandage on his left thigh. Besides being a little cranky afterward, he really handled the needles like a champ.

Back in the saddle

C. and I are getting ready to go donate blood to Bonfils.

We were regular donors before I started having miscarriages and before we were deferred for a year because of one scuba diving trip far out in the bay off Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. We were a malaria risk, they said.

So now that I'm completely healthy and we're both feeling well, we're definitely down to shuck some blood!

(We also get free long-sleeve T-shirts, too!)

United Way spoof

As promised, here's my favorite skit from Petyon Manning's appearance last spring on Saturday Night Live. Genius.

D'oh!

It finally happened. Up until now, B. had been going, at most, six hours between feeds. We tried to time those at night, of course, but they've been few and far between.

Well, last night he went a whopping eight hours between feeds (sleeping for seven of them)! And what was I doing?

I was wide awake, waiting it out. I fed him at 8 o'clock, he got sleepy around 9, so we decided to forgo his bath until he ate around 10 or 10:30 (that has been the trend, or so I thought). After he went to sleep, C. and I finished watching the rest of the Steelers-Jaguars game (sorry to all my peeps in PA!), ate hot dogs for a late-late dinner, and watched a Saturday Night Live rerun that had one of our favorite skits (promise to post that later).

When 11 o'clock rolled around, I started to get antsy. Should we B. to feed, burp and bathe him? Should we let him sleep? Only one problem with the latter: I was still awake. I would be missing out on valuable ZZZZs if this was his long sleep of the night.

We just said, "Screw it! Let him sleep!" and C. and I started playing Tiger Woods '05 on XBox. We played 18 holes at St. Andrews and I scored a 63 (woot!), all the while hearing little peeps out of B. on the baby monitor. He never full-on woke up, and I even joked to C. this is going to be the night he's going to sleep for eight hours.

At 1:30 a.m., when I needed toothpicks to keep my eyes open, I tiptoed into bed, trying not to make a sound. B. didn't rouse until 3:50 to feed, then again at 8:20 a.m.

I've had six hours of sleep, which is usually great in my book, but I'm lamenting the precious seven-hour stretch of uninterrupted sleep I missed out on. Hopefully this wasn't a freak occurrence and he'll do it again this week, then more and more until it's a nightly ritual.

No respect

I just found out recently that C. was a victim of theft. And this personal attack seems worse to me than anything just anonymous.

A few months ago, he was working a valet parking event for his former employer. It was cold and one of the valets did not have a heavy coat, so C. produced his trusty blue Obermeyer jacket. "Wear this."

Well, he still is. After using the ski coat that evening, the guy left with it, quit his job the next day (more like "no call-no show") and has not been heard from ever since. C. tried calling the guy's cell phone, even had a coworker call his parents, and they had no idea of his whereabouts.

It's this sort of thing that just makes me so very angry. When did people stop caring about each other? Just when I see a flash of kindness in others, here comes someone to mess it all up. I know heaps of kindness still exist somewhere out there; I just hope I can experience more genuinely good souls than the dark kind that too often stand right next to us.

Missy mouser

After watching my own cat play with her toy mouse -- and that's another story entirely -- I remembered something that happened on Christmas Day at my grandma's house in New Mexico.

Grandma's cat Missy had been staying at a relative's house while the rest of us celebrated Christmas Eve. When she was brought back home the next day, she was settling into her familiar digs, but something was amiss.

A cousin had heard rattling in the corner where Grandma's recliner is. She didn't say anything; don't want to scare Grandma. As a good number of us gathered in the kitchen to watch Grandma cook, which truly is a sight to behold, we heard a shriek: "Omigod, omigod!"

Then coming toward us is Missy the cat, proudly displaying her fresh catch, which still was wriggling to get free from her grip. The mouse wasn't very big, but it was big enough to give some of us a fright.

My hubby grabbed the cat, another cousin snatched a plastic bag to transport the mouse outside. I'm still not sure if our grandma found out what the hubbub was about.

Not until later after the commotion dissipated did we realize where Missy was taking her kill -- straight to her beloved owner.

And here's Missy the mouser (who resembles my big girl cat Booty).

MSP, here we come

We've booked the first airplane trip for our family, so B. will get his first taste of airline travel when we head to the Twin Cities in three weeks!

Only one question remains: Will he like the Minnesota winter?

In other news, I have a date for my return to work. It's Jan. 30. Ho hum.

Happy 2008

How did you ring in the new year? I guarantee you it wasn't as "wild" as mine.

After making plans of watching Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve and sipping champagne while the ball dropped, I wound up sleeping next to B.'s Pack 'n' Play by 11:15 p.m., snoring loud enough that C. could hear me downstairs on the baby monitor. I woke up an hour later, frantic that I had missed the ball, the toast and the kiss.

I sipped a little wine anyway, had the kiss and fell asleep again, rousing about 3 a.m. when B. was ready to eat again.

So there you have it. The New Years Eve of a new parent.

A new set

Some more recent photos of Big B. are on my Snapfish album page, so if you require the link, just comment here or e-mail me.

Ah, Pueblo

Check out the ornate design adjacent to I-25 in Pueblo. We're just now passing through; be home in a couple hours!

Ho ho ho

Merry Christmas from Taos, N.M.! :)

State line

When we cross the Colorado-New Mexico state line this afternoon, I don't think we'll be snapping B.'s photo in front of the sign. If you remember, I talked in this space about how I planned to get photos of us at state-line signs as a new tradition, but since B. is so small and we'd have to wake him to get him out of the car seat (and there's the possibility of it snowing or being rather cold today), we'll wait until his next trip to Grandma's!

Meantime, I'm back to hit the hay for a couple more hours before packing up a suitcase for B. and me, plus all the gear that goes with a 6-week-old. Wish me luck!

MOY, I am not

Well, I won't be getting the Mother of the Year award.

Yesterday while taking B. off the scale for his naked weigh-in at our lactation class, I scooped him up and banged his head on a row of cabinets above the counter. I looked at the nurse, she looked at me with weepy eyes, and for a split second, I didn't think it was bad.

Then I looked at B., he took in a deep breath and I hugged him close to me, bouncing and "ssshh-ing" him. That's when he started to cry. He was so startled by the jolt, he peed all over me, and wouldn't you know I didn't bring a clean shirt for myself. (Payback, perhaps? He said, "I'll show you, Mom!") I peeked at his noggin, and he had a tiny red welt with a little bit of scraped skin. No blood. Just a lot of heartbreak on my part as heavy tears welled up in my eyes.

I know he's going to get banged and bruised as he grows up, but his first little scratch was not fun -- and especially not fun since it was my fault. So every time I look at his tiny head, I keep replaying the event in my mind, wishing I would have taken more care in lifting him off the scale.

Luckily, he's a tough cookie and hasn't seemed to let the bump bother him. He even gave me and C. a marathon smile session last night.

Oh, and as far as his weight, he's 12 pounds even! Packing on the pounds like a champ!

Grab some popcorn

Here's a tiny snippet of B. It's not super exciting unless you're me, so dim the lights and watch one of his first movies (and don't mind the clicking from my camera; still don't know why it does that).

Bah humbug

Me with a cold sore and mastitis; B. with a little rash on his face. :(

I'm too sexy

Need I say more?

Trying

I'm trying my hardest not to make this into a baby blog, but since this space is all about me and my life, frankly that is all that is going on with me right now. It's all baby, all the time.

Rest assured I'm doing fine and getting as much rest as I can (though not as much as I'd like), shockingly I've almost lost all my baby weight (though there's another 10 pounds I'd like to lose) and I feel like I'm getting the hang of this mommy thing. It's quite fun! B.'s really adorable, which makes it easier, even when he's screaming his head off. Knocking on wood, he's really a good baby.

So since we're talking baby, I'll update his latest weight: 10 pounds, 9.5 ounces. At yesterday's weigh-in at our lactation support class, the nurses weighed B. before and after a feeding. He gained 2 ounces in one sitting. The nurses were so supportive and excited that he is putting on weight so well, and despite my struggles with nursing, it's good to know I'm doing something right. It's also nice to meet other moms and know that we're all there to support each other. Yesterday, there were 11 babies in class and next week probably will be just as busy.

And now, it's off to JC Penney for B.'s first photo shoot. I hope he stays awake for this!

Diaper debate

I think I've got it figured out. But here is how the testing process went (for anyone who gives a hoot).

Bye-bye, disposables (well, for a little while).


Hello Bum Genius. We liked these. Hook 'n' loop closures rule!


Hello Happy Heinys. This one was a runner-up.



Goodbye Little Beetle. We had baby "coin slot" and leakage. No fun.


So long, Kissaluvs. These were OK, but snaps are the devil with a squirmy baby. Plus, they're a two-parter. The under layer is not waterproof so a diaper cover is needed.

Peek-a-boo!

I thought we were a little overdue for a photo in this space.

No, I'm not crazy

Wish me luck.

Today, I plan to start using cloth diapers. I only have eight of them, so that should get us through the rest of the day. With the sampler pack I bought, the idea is that I'll find out which one suits us best and order more.

Already, I have a favorite but we'll see if it wins out! Lest you think I've lost a few marbles, I'm already doing a ton of laundry, so what's another load or two of cloth diapers and wipes? We'll save a bunch of money in the long haul, and B. will be better for it without all those harsh chemicals in disposable diapers. Plus, our landfills will thank me.

I'll keep you posted on the progress!

Snapfish

If you have the link to my Snapfish albums, there's another new album of photos of B.

If you don't have it, leave me a comment or e-mail me and I'll send it to you!

TGIF!

He's legit

B. has gotten lots of important mail recently: his social security card and his official state-issued birth certificate! Now all we need is his insurance card and we're golden!

He's also getting used to day trips. Twice this week, we've gone out for a couple hours at a time and he's done amazingly well. I even got a bit of shopping done Tuesday and today. Plus, getting out of the house makes me feel a little bit more human!

Next up: Next week ... B's first official baby photos (I'm hoping!).

This Christmas

I am so jealous of everyone displaying their holiday lights and decorations. Little by little, my neighbors yards and windows are lighting up with holiday color.

My tree and decorations still are in the big red tote in the garage, under a zillion other things in the corner. It's also the same corner from which a black widow came crawling, so that's another reason I'm reluctant to go climbing through all the "rubble."

We won't be here for Christmas, yet I still feel a little odd about not having my tree up. It makes me smile to look at all our ornaments each year, especially the ones I've made. The old ones bring back memories. The twinkling lights make me want to sip on egg nog and listen to Christmas music.

But this year, I don't know that I'll have time or energy to do it. I hope I can forgive myself if I don't.

A smile

Sometimes when I sleep (which is a lot), I flash a smile like this one.
-B.

Happy Thanksgiving

Is it me, or does it look like B. is throwing his football rattle?

Dad's choice

I shared my favorite. Now here's Daddy's favorite.

Thanks

Before I get all mushy talking about what I'm giving thanks for (first, my son; second, my husband; and third, my fantastic extended family. I love you all!), I wanted to share a terrific recipe for all of you who'll be making turkey. C. and I made Aunt Wanda's Turkey Carcass Soup about five years ago and with the frozen portions, we ate soup until spring that year!

And since I haven't gotten my rice pudding on, my brother recommended this recipe. I am going to make some now since it's a perfect day to fill the house with sweet smells and warmth from the kitchen. It began snowing last night, and I am thrilled we have Thanksgiving-style weather this year. My maternity leave couldn't have come at a better time of year.

Do I hear . . .

. . . the vacuum cleaner from downstairs?

It must be. I know C. will roll his eyes when he reads this, but I didn't even have to ask this time. Thanks, baby!

A triumph

Yesterday, I wore regular jeans and my feet are now "anorexic." I can actually see my ankles again.

Plus, I also wore my wedding ring for the first time in months!

And now here's one of my favorite photos so far. He wasn't yet a day old...

Piggies

Little B.'s big feet!

Ch-ch-ch-changes

The cats are realizing they're now moving down on the totem pole.

But it's fun to see their new behaviors. Gabby has been great, inquisitive and getting on my nerves just a little. She jumped in B.'s crib the first night and hasn't tried it again.

Booty, meanwhile, is standing guard at our bedroom door. I'm very proud she has become the guard cat.

Just now, they both walked up and smelled his head, quietly walking away as not to disturb his little nap. I hope they keep up their good behavior!

The little champ

Already working on his fist pump.

Welcome to the world

Our handsome Benjamin Michael was born at 2:22 a.m. Nov. 9 at 7 lbs., 15 oz. and 20 in. :)

In the running

Michelle.
Stephanie from Cali.
Mom.
Brooke from Pa.
Monique.

You're all still in the running for our Expectnet baby pool!

And to all who haven't heard me flapping my gums, induction is set for 6 a.m. Thursday. If I don't go into labor on my own by then, we should have a new member of the B. family on Thursday!

Seriously, people

It's a wonder I didn't beat a man senseless yesterday who said, "What do we got here? Quadruplets?"

And he was wearing scrubs. If he's in health care, shouldn't he be more sensitive?

As long as I'm here giving an update, there's no news. I've got an appointment this afternoon, and after one "false alarm" Saturday, I thought we were going to have another. But I decided instead of going back to L&D triage just to be sent home, I'd try to get some rest. Well, I slept through the night again, until I was disturbed by two alarms and one annoyingly-early phone call.

Note to anyone reading this (and I think most of you know this, anyway): Don't call me before 10 (preferably 11), especially now.

RUDE!

To the woman at the Denver Zoo who said "It looks like it!" after I answered her question of when I was due (yesterday):
POOP ON YOU!!

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Clock's ticking

Well, I don't think the kid's going to be a good little journalist and make his deadline. Only 70 minutes left in the day.

Looks like tomorrow is going to be a trip to the zoo for some marathon walking. I promise to take at least one photo.

P.S. Of all the "natural" ways to augment labor, I tried a new one tonight: red raspberry leaf tea. It was good, but I'm still here. And there's no way I'll be chugging castor oil, so don't even suggest it.