Recordable Storybook from Hallmark!

The Recordable Storybook from Hallmark is now available! You can check it out here. This is a great new product that I just may have poured a bit of my heart and soul into. So run, don't walk, to your nearest Gold Crown store and get your hands on a copy before they're all gone. And believe me, they will probably sell out this year. Available titles are The Night Before Christmas, All the Ways I Love You, and Bright & Beautiful.

You've Got Mail

Dear Everyone,

Please quit telling me that you don’t think I look pregnant. Not only are you insulting me, but you are bringing out my pregnancy neuroses and making me question whether or not my baby is growing at an appropriate pace.

Let’s address point number one. I mean really. Do you honestly think I have just always had this gut? Am I fatter in your eyes than I thought? I suppose you think you’re being complimentary and all, telling me you don’t think my body has changed or that I haven’t gained much weight. But it’s not a compliment. And at this semi-early stage, I WANT to look pregnant. I want people to know that something is going on in there and that my body is working hard, dammit. I’m SUPPOSED to gain weight, and if I’m not, it means SOMETHING IS WRONG.

Which brings me to point number two. Why oh why am I letting you make me feel so insecure? I’ve heard the heartbeat; I’ve felt the little movements. Logically I know that everything is going fine. But when you ask me how far along I am, then respond with a shocked “You’re not nearly big enough for x weeks!” emotion takes over. You make me want to run home and grab the Doppler, because maybe the baby ISN’T growing the way he/she is supposed to. And I need to check the heartbeat right this minute to be sure it’s still beating away.

So I’d appreciate it if you would refrain from commenting on my size. I’m not too small, and I’m not too big. Repeat this to yourself and next time you see me, simply say, “You look great!” Even if you wholeheartedly disagree. I don’t care. Lie to me.

Sincerely,
Megan

That Worm Update . . . Finally

I’m going to let these pictures speak for themselves, with just a few comments.

1. Everything is so moist we haven’t even attempted to harvest the castings. Not sure we ever will.
2. When I was so morning-sickness sick, I could not stand to look at these worms. Andrew has taken over worm-bin duties.
3. What you can’t see in these photos are the hundreds of tiny fruit flies flying around.
4. We moved the bin to the basement.
   
5. I voted to get rid of the worms. Andrew vetoed me.

The Car Seat Story

I went to Chicago this past weekend (and bought a TON of stuff, though that is a story for another day) and when Andrew picked me up from the airport, I noticed that he had installed the car seat base in his backseat. He was proud of himself for figuring it all out, and I was proud of him for being so excited about the baby coming and for taking the initiative to get it ready.

But.

We are not going to have a baby for another five months. So the car seat installation seemed a bit premature.

The next day I went out to my car to find that he had also installed the second car seat base in my backseat, along with the car seat itself. And I freaked out a little bit. I don’t really know why. There was just something about seeing this little car seat there, and knowing that someday our teeny baby would ride in it, but then realizing that currently that teeny baby is only, oh, I don’t know, SIX INCHES long, that was too much for me to handle. Maybe there was just a little too much reality there, and maybe that was one of those moments where I realized OMG I’M GOING TO HAVE A REAL LIVE BABY.

I honestly wanted to take the car seat out right that minute and not think about it again for another four months, but I was already running late. And so it stayed there, safe and sound and properly installed, until that evening when Andrew and I sat down to dinner and I thought about the car seat thing and began crying. For some strange reason, Andrew did not know what was upsetting me, so he tried to ask me what was wrong. I said, “I’m pregnant,” which clearly is enough explanation, right? It means I’m emotional and hormonal and I can cry if I want to. But he still didn’t understand, poor guy.

Eventually I just asked him to take the car seat out. He seemed a little disappointed, like, oh, I thought you’d like that. And I did like it, in theory. I just wasn’t ready to see it in my backseat. I’m so far from ready. I’m sure I’ll be ready by March . . . but not yet.

He/She Likes to Move It Move It

The baby is moving.

I thought I felt it moving last week, on Tuesday. Around 4:00 or so, I was sitting in our regularly scheduled Tuesday books meeting at work, when I felt this tapping. Just four or five little taps, kind of like what I imagine a drum must feel like from the inside. I thought, is that it? Is that the baby? And I waited. And waited. But I didn’t feel anything else.

Then a couple days later, I felt the same tapping, this time just a couple of taps. Again, I wondered, is that the baby? But again little Cupcake refused to confirm his/her intentions.

But Friday and Saturday, I could no longer question it. I felt it quite often, especially when eating, and it felt just like a little teeny baby moving around. All the books say this feeling is hard to describe. I used to think, pffft, it can’t possibly be THAT hard to describe. But it really is. To me, I can say it feels like little bubbles popping, or a little swimmy feeling—but those don’t really give you a sense of what it feels like, if you haven’t felt it for yourself. Because to me, it just feels like a tiny 5-inch-long creature wiggling around and occasionally bumping into something (me). And how do you really describe something that just feels like what it is?

It’s an amazing thing, it really is. Even as I’m typing this, I just finished eating lunch, and I am acutely aware of my tiny cupcake getting in her/his post-lunch calisthenics. Good job, baby! Don’t forget to stretch!

My mother-in-law will cringe when she reads this.

It’s funny how plans change. Andrew and I had all these lofty goals for the way things would be when I was pregnant, like how we’d eat all our meals at home and cook with fresh, organic ingredients. And of course I’d stay away from desserts and rarely drink caffeine.

But then I got pregnant. And the fresh, organic, blah blah blah all went out the window.

Today my lunch consisted of a slice of pizza with Canadian bacon, pineapple, and something crispy and delicious that just may be regular bacon. And some ranch dressing to dip it in. But that’s not all. I washed down the pizza with a Dr. Pepper, then finished it all off with chocolate cake with little Oreo crumbles on top. Frankly, I ought to be embarrassed to share this information, and I may end up deleting this post later to erase the evidence.

But seriously, this was a very tasty lunch. Possibly the worst lunch (in terms of the health benefits I gained from it) I’ve had since my oyster cracker days, but very satisfying. And I’m positive that this is what the baby wanted today.

Quick Weekend Update

We had quite an industrious weekend. We bought this table. ($100 off, BTW!) I bought these glasses. (Okay, these might not be the exact pair…I had trouble finding a good picture. But I’m pretty sure these are the ones. And look! Blue!) Andrew bought a bunch of clothes, and I borrowed a bunch of maternity clothes from another recently-pregnant friend, Monica. I cleaned out my closet and piled up a bunch of stuff to go to Goodwill, and I boxed up the stuff that is either too summery or too small to wear for the next five or six months. My mom came over and helped me remove the teddy bear wallpaper border that was in our future baby room. We also took down the eyelet-lace-pink-gingham valance. I will not miss it.

And then the best part of the weekend (by which I actually mean the worst part of the weekend) was when Andrew spent all of last night laying on the floor of the bathroom with the flu. Or something terrible. Remember last year? Yeah, this is eerily similar. Cross your fingers that this year we won’t need a trip to the ER.

A Few Loosely Connected Paragraphs

Today I am 16 weeks pregnant. All the books tell me that sometime between 16 and 20 weeks is when I should start to feel the baby moving. I am so looking forward to that. Sometimes, as I’m lounging on the couch or laying in bed, I try to focus on the way I feel, like maybe I could feel something if I were only paying attention. It hasn’t worked so far, and I’m guessing that the first moment I feel movement will completely catch me off guard. I hope I feel something before our sonogram. It seems like it would be nice to be able to feel tiny movements while seeing the same movements on the screen. Like rumble seats in the theater.

An update on maternity pants: I do love the elastic, comfy waistband, but I hate how these pants keep falling down. I’m constantly hiking them up. Can someone please tell me if this will improve as my waistline expands, or if it will continue to annoy me for the next 5 and a half months?

While getting dressed this morning, I realized that I should probably think about buying a few maternity shirts. Or at least wash the two I already have. I was fortunate enough to borrow a handful of tops from Lindsay, but since I haven’t cleaned out my closet yet, those shirts are still in the storage bin they came in. Note to self: must box up too-small or soon-to-be-too-small clothes asap.

I stopped by the grocery store on my way home yesterday to pick up milk and apples. And then I decided to get some hummus and a salad to eat for dinner. And then the Double Stuf Oreos caught my eye. So of course I bought them.

Tonight I have a personal training session. I’m curious to see how my workouts start to change as I start to change. I’m already to the point where I’m not supposed to do any more exercises while lying on my back, like chest flies. Should be exhausting. But my favorite part of the evening will be my 3M’s conference call with Emily and Molly. And the Double Stuf Oreos, of course.

I don't think you're ready for this belly.

Today I bought my first pair of maternity pants because, quite frankly, I’m tired of the partially-unzipped-rubber-band-around-the-button look. And I don’t find the Bella Band very comfortable, even though I seem to be in the minority there. Hence, it was time for maternity pants.

And, since I will be wearing the new pants tomorrow, I thought it was prime time for my first belly photo. First time to show you all, that is. I’ve been taking them for six weeks, though the roundness in the first couple photos was mostly dinner and my gas baby. So I’ll keep those pics to myself. If you twist my arm, by the end of the pregnancy I may give you a belly-photo collage and include the early pics. But this photo is me at 15 weeks, and I swear my little bump is a real baby, not a food baby.
(Being this shape is weird to me, by the way. Looking at this photo, my first thought is, sheesh, suck it in, fatty. Also, I am judgmental of my thighs. Isn’t that terrible? *shakes fist at society*)

(I think I’m going to love maternity pants.)

(One more thing: we took this photo in the coming-soon-ish nursery, thinking that as I change, you will see the changes to the room, too. Clever, no? But so far it’s not much to look at.)