The Joneses WIN.

That's IT. It's final. I can't keep up.

I'm announcing it publicly so that upon reading this you will know to dramatically DROP your expectations, hopefully avoiding the inevitable disappointment that I would otherwise cause (and probably already have caused you) due to something I did or will certainly fail to do.

I'm acknowledging this theme to my life. I figure it is healthier to admit the truth than remain stymied by self-exasperation. So, I hereby admit it: I simply can't live up to ANYBODY. I have friends who went from solid careers onto pregnancies where they gained all of, oh, about 10 pounds, then popped out their babies and now are raising toddlers while pregnant again, WHILE effortlessly decorating for Christmas, sending out newsletters, holding jobs, you name it. They are unfazed.

I am fazed.

Enough to make up for ALL their cool-collectedness.

I only DREAM of a solid career, I gained 10 pounds in ONE MONTH over Thanksgiving, I don't even have a child yet and I didn't manage to decorate for Christmas (ours is one of the only bleak, dark houses on the block), no one got a newsletter from us, and my ONE focus, this HOUSE, seems only minutely farther along than it was when we moved in! Sean literally got a booklet of "Project Promises" from me for Christmas because I couldn't get my act together and actually DO them in time. My preparedness level for this child is hovering somewhere around zero; I keep telling her if she would let me SLEEP, I might have the mental clarity to find her a car seat or something to hang out in...

--But again, should I really be overwhelmed by an infant who isn't even outside of my body yet? Yes, she's tumbling around, stomping on my bladder, using my rib cage as a jungle gym, leaning back into my veins and cutting off the blood return to my heart, but this is the EASY part. Come April, this sort of activity will be accompanied by crying and an endless need to nurse. Oh yes, I'm fazed. If I can't keep the weeds out of the front yard NOW, the future is hopeless.

The silver lining to this doomsdayish cloud is that I've discerned my calling. Yes indeed. Like any good Christian, I've always wondered what it is and now I know. It seems that the main purpose for which God uses me is to teach everyone else not to place hope in other humans. Hey, at least I'm being used-- and ultimately for a good cause-- so this is an exciting fact. I really think Paul meant to include Being An Utter Disappointment in his list of spiritual gifts. ;-)

As further evidence of my calling, here are the cowpoke's living quarters at 26 weeks. I do not match the drawing of the Jones's tummy on BabyCenter.com, which is about half as full as mine. I will no doubt be chided at my next appointment for my Christmas weight gain. (Meanwhile, somebody needs to communicate to the baby how good she has it; her attempts to stretch out my gut even further lead me to believe she's oblivious to the relative roominess of her accommodations).

Here, of course, is my cooler, more collected half at 26 weeks. He is handling the pregnancy quite well-- one of the unfazed.

Conclusion: So now that I've cleared the air, acknowledging my endless shortcomings, I feel as though I can ring in the new year on a note of frankness and honesty. My resolution for 2009: Survive.

(Not that the Joneses even wanted to compete with me next year. They were bored with the lack of challenge I presented.)

Family Photos

Okay, so here's our little clan, Christmas '08.

And here's the Haigler bunch:

I failed to get a nice family photo of the Sims side. There's one of Sean's dad with Christmas ribbon around his head Rambo-style, admiring his new Beretta. But rather than propagate stereotypes of small-town Texans, I decided the most representative family photo was this shot of Badges:

Last, though only least in her size, the cowpoke is supposedly the weight of a rutabaga. I think this means she's no longer Wilbur's "little" sister. (She's well over a foot long and weighs a pound and a half. Wilbur is more like a pound and about eight inches long.) I attempted a visual:

'Tis the Season [of Mooching]

Ah, the splendid time of year when we don't have to cook, do dishes, run our own heater, or attend to any responsibilities at all. Yes, we love Christmas. Nothing finer in life than kicking back at the cozy homes of our parents, being surrounded by the people who are required to love us despite everything, and celebrating a savior who also has this obligatory, unconditional love thing going on. It's just a blissful, happy time. (And we're deeply grateful that we can say that-- I'm not assuming it is such for everyone).

This year especially, we're soaking it in-- keenly aware of the fact that next Christmas will involve l'enfant. There will be little to no attention for Sean and I, and instead of the carefree lounging, I expect we'll be preoccupied with a subtle, endless anxiety over her behavior and needs. This is our last season of true mooching as we have known it to-date. Such bittersweet feelings.

To maximize the mooching potential of this final season of freedom, I'm not even relying on my own creativity for this post. That is what friends are for. Here are a few bits of seasonal beauty:

A version of this was on the Whaley's blog. I understand it was a bit of a viral video last year, so you may have seen it-- but I hadn't. Got a kick out of it. Watch Straight No Chaser's rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas.

My friend Stacey's entire Christmas post is also worth referencing. The baby bear video is adorable-- but make sure you watch the 5 worst local TV Christmas commercials. Hilarious.

From our family to yours, Merry Christmas and
Happy Mooching.

It's Too Cold!

I'm not standing half naked for a photo when it's freezing in here! So I drew a picture instead. This is what I look like at 24 weeks. Maybe a little bit bigger. The baby's now the size of an ear of corn, and she's inhabiting a soccerball size space, according to babycenter.com. I'm keeping her well insulated with a layer of pink fluffiness (much like the fiberglass batts in your attic... approx R-19). I'm tempted to draw y'all a literal picture of what I just described, but I don't really have time to do it justice. I'll leave it up to your imaginations.

Sean finally felt her kick; it wasn't what he thought it would be like and reportedly did not meet his expectations. Wilbur has been feeling her kick for a while now. This really disturbs him; he sits on my belly during our heart-to-heart conversations and isn't too fond of being popped from below. (Her aim is impeccable). Unlike the men in the household, I usually enjoy feeling her move; it's kind of like my insides are on a roller-coaster ride, and I'm happy that they're having such a good time in there. I would like to ride on some roller coasters too.

Worth Quoting

"If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands?" ~ Milton Berle

"Diaper backward spells repaid. Think about it." ~ Marshall McLuhan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These came via Darla. Out of genuine concern for the baby, she also sent me the following advice: http://www.c00lstuff.com/1133/Do_s_and_don_ts_with_babies/
:-)

Gooooo, Big Brother!

What can I say?? Awesomeness runs in the family. My brother's lucky to be in the same family as me-- that way he can be awesome, too! (That's the best I could come up with. I've been trying to figure out a way to take credit for his recent accomplishments, but the juices obviously aren't flowing. Guess I'll give him this one.)

So it turns out Jason was awarded Architect of the Year by his firm HKS. He works in Dallas, but this award is given to only 2 people across the entire firm (which has international offices, even). It's always SO nice when recognition is given where it's due! I can't imagine that they have a single, more dedicated employee than Jason.

What's a post without a photo? So here's a picture of Jason from our family reunion/vacation. We're on a boat, which does beautiful things for one's coiffure. Darla is taking the photo; in the middle is Janell, the third of the four of us. I don't know WHO that is on the left craning her head to get in the picture...

Meanwhile...

Some photos from Lost Prairie (Sean's land). We visited over the Thanksgiving break and took his parents' new pup. She's mostly Australian Cattle Dog, so it seemed like we ought to expose her to some cows. That went over okay. But I hear she's submitted an application to become Golden Retriever instead.

Wilbur meets the onesie

What the crap?! Who is that???!!!

... and why did YOU put me next to him?

I really don't know what you want me to do here.

...maybe I should sniff whatever he's sniffing...

...Or I could hide. Yeah. Hiding sounds good.

Little Lady

With our luck we'll have a girly girl and neither of us will have a clue what to do with her. In the meantime, we're giving her a fair shot at expressing herself in an unconventional fashion...


The camo gear is courtesy of the baby's paternal grandparents. The white onesies are from the Palmers (they can do ANYTHING). All three were in response to my post about gender-neutral baby clothes. I can't wait to see people's reactions to our infant wearing a Shiner Bock.

The Palmers also made an adorable onesie with a hedgehog on the front-- to be debuted anon.

"YOU'RE SO FAT!"

So if/when you are pregnant and grow weary of the blatant lies about how small and cute your belly is, I have a piece of advice: find a sibling. They'll tell you how it is, straight up. If your siblings are too kind, you can borrow mine. It's actually quite refreshing.

We've now finished 21 weeks; I'm more than halfway there. Nowhere close to halfway through the projects I need done. This is adding up to bad news.

Here's Sean at 21 weeks. I'm not sure what's going on-- all I know is I almost forgot to take his picture this morning, he reminded me, I found him like this, and then he insisted I post it in color. You can take a stab at analyzing what it means. Is he exploring his sociopathic side? Attempting to shred preconceived notions of what a "good father" looks like? Artistically expressing disgruntledness? A little behind on Halloween?

All I can say is, when you meet our daughter, keep in mind from whom she descended (and cut her a little slack). Poor soul.

gettin' folksy in Fischer

In an attempt to be cooler than the Kerrville Folk Festival, Sean submitted a birthday request for two of the 300+ tickets available for the semi-local Rice Festival in Fischer, TX; his parents obliged. So we (and 300 inebriated middle-aged hippies) were SUPER cool the first weekend in November. Way cooler than Kerrville. Especially because no one has EVER heard of the Rice Festival or Fischer, TX. (Lack of name recognition is directly proportionate to degree of coolness.)

As proof of coolness, I'm including a picture of the chair backs, which have Fischer misspelled on many (someone has gone back and inserted a little "c" into the name to fix it). This is obviously due to lack of name recognition (or being an inebriated middle-aged hippie)-- either way, supremely COOL.

In all honesty, though, the music was indeed great. I developed a very deep appreciation for the fiddle, and Sean told me he wants a banjo and mandolin for Christmas.
A couple of the musicians were a little too folksy (like in a cheesy, dumb way). But most were excellent songwriters, and if I haven't made it clear, extremely talented musicians.

The same cannot be said for the coordinators and providers of the food options at the festival. We gave up on the Fischer frito pies by the second day and sought out some local goodness in Blanco, TX. Bet you haven't heard of Blanco. Therefore, also VERY cool.

Blanco BBQ restaurants have butterflies in front of them. They also apparently have parades in front of them every now and then for no obvious reason. We just missed it though, so I didn't get pictures. We just saw the aftermath.

Our accommodations were fairly minimalist. We stayed at Canyon Lake State Park, 3 miles down the road from Fischer. This aspect went beyond cool to downright cold.

On whole, it was an excellent trip, one that Sean fondly describes as "better as a memory." (Most "cool" things we do probably fit that description pretty well). We'll probably go again next year; anyone can do something unusual once-- you're only truly cool if you're committed! Besides, we'd be better prepared in many ways. We'd also have a 7 month old, but that could make it even that much more exciting (and super cool, because then we'd be doing something cool that, like, no other young parents do. We'd be going to an unknown event in an unrecognized place and be totally non-conformist by doing so with an infant. I mean, come on, how cool is THAT???? I know, you're probably getting giddy because you personally know such cool people. Feel free to start sending fan mail now.)

Wilburrito

...bathtime is just NOT fun

Atlanta At Last!

We finally made it back to Atlanta together last week-- it had been way too long since I'd gotten to see our friends, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all! Sean had a forum and work that kept him busy most of the week, but we crammed in as many visits as we could; it was truly a delight seeing everyone.

Lots of good food. Of course, what trip with Sean does NOT revolve around lots of good food?? I'm happy to say that all the new places I tried were totally on par with what I hold to be excellent Atlanta dining.

Also took a walk through the area between the Mason Mill tennis courts and Medford Park-- they've developed a really nice trail through that part of town-- the fall colors make for perfect scenery.

BABIES!

(a.k.a. hormones make you psycho!)

You can tell my pregnant brain has serious tunnel vision whenever I get around infants now. I totally failed to take pictures of my FRIENDS and I just took pictues of their kids. (Shelly's the only one who made it-- and that's because she's holding her kid). I objectively admit this behavior is sick, warped, and unforgiveable. Now that I'm back home and away from my friends I really miss them and wish I'd taken pictures of them. But in the presence of wee ones, my brain ceases to function-- they cast their spell upon me and it's hopeless.

(I somehow managed to not take a picture of Corbin, so he isn't pictured, but he was sooo well behaved and wonderful!)

We're not sure when my next trip back will be (depends on Sean racking up airline miles), but I'm already looking forward to it. I'm still blown away by the quality of the friendships we had there. (That sounds dorky, but I don't really know how else to say it.)

We Begat a Baby Girl!

I'm excited to announce a pronoun, at long last! It's finally time to transfer from the vocabulary of "it" and "thing" to "she" and "girl." YAAAAAY!

Perhaps needless to say, this was an extremely exciting piece of news-- the whole experience was awesome! I really didn't understand what a difference it'd make in terms of how connected I felt to her. Partially it was finding out the gender, for sure-- but I don't want to discount how rewarding it was to sit through the show-and-tell session while the nurse introduced us to each itty bitty body part and told us how good everything looked. Seeing the little body in motion is just incredible (it totally beats the still pictures you end up with). What's bizarre is that you can see the bones in the arms, the ribs, the detail of the spine, the gallbladder, kidneys, blood flowing through the umbilical cord arteries-- and best-- the heart beating. She even showed us a cross-section of the heart so we could see all four chambers with valves opening and closing! Think about it! That's nuts! I've seen more detail of my unborn child's innards than I know about my own! I wasn't expecting to be able to see anything beyond her skin and body shape (the things you typically see on other people).

Which caused me to to ponder whether we might all be a little nicer to each other if we could see strangers' hearts pumping. Sort of a literal version of knowing what's happening on the inside of people who we otherwise might treat a little robotically. Like to listening to your spouse's heartbeat. I don't do that a lot, but when I do, I'm always floored by how DEEPLY thankful I am that it's in there beating. It's an extremely important function that I totally take for granted. I think more about getting the oil changed in the car and maintaining an anti-mildew bathroom than I do about that heart chugging away. Anyway, beating hearts are just a cool thing, seen, heard, or simply appreciated.

They recorded some of the scan on VHS, but I don't have a way to convert that into a digital video, so the stills will have to suffice... (At least they're better than the 10 week ultrasound photo...)

Profile of face (her belly currently looks a lot like her mom's!)

Bicep curl-- check out those muscles!

Kicking Mommy

There is also a photo of her girl parts, but when she realized what we were doing, the poor gal immediately crossed her legs and rolled over. Modest little thing (we're thrilled with this trait). I decided, out of respect for her obvious preferences, I would refrain from uploading that image to the world-wide web. She also made another preference perfectly clear during her HDTV debut, which I promised I WOULD broadcast to the public. See below.

Opinionated little booger, isn't she?? But so cute.

And now, if she'd just have red hair. That'd be a dream come true-- I LOVE red hair. There is a very slight chance it could happen. She also needs to have Sean's personality so we aren't terrorized to tears by her teenage years. We already know she's got some kick to her. Probability favored us having a boy, just based off our charts. It's not hard to go back and see when conception must have happened, and there are statistics that show that how close it is to ovulation affects the likelihood of the baby being a boy or girl. (Apparently boy sperm are smaller, more fragile, and swim the fastest. The girls are slower, but bigger and can survive longer while waiting around for ovulation). All I can say is this chica must have been a FAST little gal. She whooped all the boys! I like this about her very much.

We're now officially halfway through the 40 week gestation period. The ultrasound machine estimated her weight at 13 oz (a pound is 16 oz), and she's about the length of a banana. We recently signed up for our required Bradley Method Classes, which will be Thursday nights between Feb 5th and March 26th. I'm also borrowing a Birthing From Within book from our friends down the street (the Luthers had a lot of success with that approach), and I'm curious enough about the hypnobirthing stuff to check out a book on that, too.

At this point, though, the best thing I can do to prepare for her arrival is step up the progress on house projects...

Pet of MY week.

Well, many sincere thanks are in order for Wilbur's campaign team, the volunteers, his undyingly devoted supporters... all those who made calls until wee hours of the morning-- your valiant efforts are to be commended. Special recognition goes to HKS, Fidelity Investments, Accenture's IT analysts, and the Luthers (our awesome neighbors) who demonstrated loving care for His Highness during such a critical week when his rise to prominence might have been otherwise undermined by his owners abandoning him while they went to Atlanta.

Despite the coordinated support and the sheer impressiveness of the candidate hedgehog himself, it seems a muddy dog stole the title of Dallas/Fort Worth Pet of the Week.

HOWEVER, as a strategist on Wilbur's campaign team, I am neither dismayed nor concerned. While he didn't carry the title, he did rack up the most broadcast air time of all the pets in the running. The news crew mentioned him specifically by name and showed his photo during a brief segment discussing how they usually just get cats and dogs submitted for their Pet of the Week competition. Yes, you read that right. Wilbur, in simply being a hedgehog, made major metropolitan evening news headlines. In case that wasn't enough, he was mentioned the following morning by the weatherman!

In short, our publicity team is quite pleased with how things played out. We lost the title, but we won the hearts of the media team itself (which clearly is a tried and true path to ultimate victory). You have not seen the end of Sir Wilbur Sims, Hedgehog Extraordinaire.

VOTE AGAIN, NOW!!!!

The presidential election was just practice, y'all. Here's a vote where your voice really matters!

Wilbur has a chance to be pet of the week!

Please go to:
http://www.myfoxdfw.com/myfox/

Scroll down to the link for pet of the week. This will open up a new window where you can choose Wilbur from the 8 finalists for this week's favorite pet. Apparently there are WAY too many people out there who don't understand the charms of a hedgehog. (At least we're doing better than the cat. ...On second thought, that's probably not a very campaign friendly, base-increasing comment, so please ignore that if you're a cat person.)

Unfortunately, it seems you can only vote one time from any given IP address, so if you have an office computer, vote there too! Tell your friends! Call your congressperson!
Upon winning, Wilbur will be sure to reward his most fervent supporters with high-ranking titles and kickbacks. But don't ask what this hedgehog can do for you. Ask what you can do for this hedgehog... and his cute little whiskered wiggling nose...

Party on the pepper plant

This is the place to be. Tell all your bug friends.

Somebody needed a hug...

126 days (18 weeks)

We had another check up on Monday-- all is still fine with the cowpoke. The heartbeat had some moments where it sounded, appropriately, like a galloping horse. The baby, who's been two-stepping around the barn for a few weeks now, is 5.5" from head to rump-- picture a bell pepper.

No, no. I take that back.

Picture a highly animated bell pepper tying its umbilical cord into a lasso and practicing calf-roping skills in a space with a 27 year history of museum-quality silence and stillness. That's more accurate. BabyCenter's tendency to compare the fetus to objects found in a still life painting is unbelievably inaccurate. First there was a heartbeat (which, I repeat-- kumquats do NOT have) ... then a few passing points of pressure, then a few wriggles (maybe this apple had worms??), now a one man rodeo. Bell pepper my foot.

The wrangler's home now occupies the whole lower part of my abdomen-- you can feel a big firm bump that goes all the way up to my belly button. (This means that everything that used to sit quite happily at belly button level and below is now crammed up above it. I'm not a big fan of this nor the fact that the organ-cramming is only going to get steadily worse. Sometimes I eat a big meal just to remind the baby that it doesn't get the run of the whole space. Never too early for a little discipline. "Stop all your acting up and go sit in the corner!" says the Sub Sandwich Nanny, her deli meats reheated to steaming.)

Here's the hugeness after 18 weeks:


In other news, I did come across a fairly good deal on a gym membership (no minimum month requirement, no start-up fees, and a price of about $1/day) that includes pool access and all classes, like yoga. This is good because I've had to stop jogging due to some pretty undeniable discomfort, and the walking thing just hasn't been cutting it. I figured as winter sets in I'll only get that much more sedentary. So I signed up last Friday and already feel like it's making a difference. Helps with the hormones, helps with the core muscle strength, helps with the crankiness, helps with the fluffiness, hopefully will help with the sagging bum... yes, the sagging is so depressing... it is only after you get pregnant that you hear about the accompanying chemical called "relaxin" whose sole purpose is to loosen and spread every single facet of your body. It is NOT such a beautiful thing. By the time this is done my earlobes are going to be flopping by my shoulders. They'll slap my baby in the face when I go to kiss it goodnight. I'll have to be careful what earrings I wear. And these are the disheartening side effects of pregnancy no one tells you about.

Sean at 18 weeks (notice how disheartened he looks about my earlobes and bum):


Soooo I'm trying to think if there is any other baby-related news. I'm going to schedule The Ultrasound for sometime the week before Thanksgiving so we can say thanks for the baby using accurate pronouns.

OH, and if you're still reading this far into this post, and you are one of the half dozen people in my life who have infants of your own, I would really love to see what you dressed them up as for Halloween, if y'all did that. Please send photos of your pumpkins and daisies and turtles. Thank you!

Lastly, and MOST IMPORTANTLY, if you go vote, I will reward you with more cute pictures of my hedgehog.

Is it love???

Sean-- big loud brute that he is-- is not Wilbur's favorite person. He need only walk by and Wilbur starts huffing and puffing. (The fact that Sean routinely bares his teeth and growls at Wilbur might have something to do with that-- so don't get to feeling too sorry for Sean).

Sean's SHOES, on the other hand, are apparently completely unrelated to the intimidating terrorist Wilbur so fears. Upon the discovery of these fragrant havens last night, Wilbur perched in there for ages, burrowed some, treated the inner sole to some serious scratch-n-sniff, and eventually curled up and fell asleep, relishing the scent of stinky boy feet.

You've never seen a more content hedgehog.
Or human.
Sean was inwardly tickled at this display of affection, as demonstrated by wry comments and pretended displeasure. He woke up this morning still amused, chuckling at the memory.

Folks, let's call it what it is. I believe we have a budding romance on our hands.

happy halloween

For Halloween this year, we dressed the kid up as a bony, naked space alien with transparent, waxy, sagging skin, and large black eye sockets. For added gore, we smeared him with blood and attached a fleshy grey feeding apparatus to the center of his stomach so it could trail around behind him.
Result: He's by far the scariest kid on the block. I will definitely feed him him candy as I don't want to risk him pulling any tricks.

(As a visual aid I have posted an image from Google. I also saw some freaky 3D ultrasound images of fetuses at 17 weeks yawning and making other scary faces, but those images were simply too frightening to post, Halloween or not. If you think you're up for a fright, click here.)

******************* UPDATE ************************

I thought I would add PROOF that my kid is the scariest on the block. Here's Aidan, from three doors down. He's a punk rocker and giving me his most intense, punk-rocker face. Yet you want to just KISS him. That's not scary. Good try, Aidan. But you just turned out adorable instead.

Insulating Sir Wilbur's Castle

It's been gorgeous during the day, but at night the temperature has been dropping significantly. I'd started to wonder how this was affecting my little, mostly nocturnal friend. He doesn't have much fur. I'd made him a little sweatshirt pouch to hide in, but that seemed to result in him never leaving the pouch. He hides all day, regardless, just because he likes dark places, but I'd noticed that I hadn't been hearing him at night, whereas normally he wakes me up at least a few times with his shenanigans.

THEN the other morning I got up to check on Wilbur and his little feet were cold! Even though he was curled up in the pouch! (Collectively now, "aaaaaawwww! Do something!!") So yes, I had to take action.

He now has his very own electric blanket wrapped around his cage. I turn it on the lowest setting at night, and it's just enough to take the chill out of the walls of the cage without really adding heat to the interior. He likes it lots. There's been PLENTY of racket the last couple nights.

Destruction!

Are you looking for a caption? An explanation?

Can't a girl just tear out some walls when she feels like it?