For the sap, sappy...

The first year is supposedly the most difficult year of marriage, right? That's what we're told. But dang, if this was our toughest... how much easier is it going to get? I do like a challenge, ya know? Although, not to brag or anything but everything between Craigita and I are pretty swell. I mean, we know our roles fairly well. Craig seems to fix things around the house slowly, while I consistently nag. Craig is always thoughtful, while I rant & rave about the small things. Craig is always paying compliments about how cute I am, while I b*tch about how fat I'm looking. By the way, as it appears below, Bho has been hungry lately. Yikes.

Seriously, though, with our one-year anniversary around the corner I can't help but wonder what is so difficult about the first year of marriage? Besides for the fact that Mother Nature is still proving this week is the hottest of the year and that makes Craig very crabby. Somewhere in my mind, I have a feeling that next year with law school and a Bho, it might be a bit more stressful. Something about baby poo sticking to the pages of my expensive legal books might be frustrating...

Here is to a honeymoon-year start to a marriage and many more to come!

Just a bit of reminscense of the hottest day of 2006 (one hint to a good marriage is to remember your wife looking like this... versus the photo above):

Hopefully, next year during our anniversary weekend when I'm helping my Ana Catalina get married (again, let me emphasize this is the hottest week of MN) I will fit back into my old size. Well, at least I will be able to enjoy the champagne... if I'm fat or not.

I learn, she learns...

If you know me, you know that I'm addicted to learning... or at least schooling. So much so that I'm beginning law school on August 3rd (yikes, we're down to 11 days and counting) part-time, law school, keep in mind. However, as I was reading a case study this afternoon while eating lunch - I felt more kicks and flips in the belly region than normal. That got me thinking, with all this legal learning I'll be experiencing in the next three months while Bho is at her most rapid development stages... will she be picking up legal terms and phrases from the womb? If I'm reading case studies and law books aloud to her during this final trimester, will she be the genius that I'm hoping for? Will her first word be certiorari?

Maybe it's not too far-fetched for me to start purchasing these?


Or maybe it is just the case that I should lay-off the fruit? I've already devoured one whole pineapple, a pint of blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries within two days. Perhaps, this is the cause for the extra kicks? Bho says, "mom, give me something that will stick to my skinny ribs already!" Damn Cub for having two-for-one coupons on fruit... I cannot resist!

Anyone recall...

My disgust for mainstream crib bedding found in Babies R' Us, Target, or any other boring local store? I mean, who wants to spend hundreds of dollars on this?

No offense meant to those parents who adore floral-fyed teddy bears and the fleshtone color peach. However, if I'm spending close to $500 on something new for the nursery why does it have to involve clutter and horrid colors?

In my opinion, all of this temporary bedding is terribly overpriced. However, when it comes to beautiful evidently designers don't limit themselves. I've found something that I'm terribly in love with but will NEVER purchase. I refused to spend this amount of money ($969) on a bedroom set for Craig and I, and we're adults, duh! Why would I spend it on a bumper, sheet, and blanket? But damn, it is beautiful... isn't it?


If anyone feels sorry for Bho and wants to donate this collection (by Serena and Lily; Wren) please let me know. I will be sure to set you up with my shipping address and you'll be the first one to get a thank-you card when Bho learns to read & write.

In the meantime, I'll be shopping at Walmart and perusing the Consignment Shops. If you have any great ideas of where I can find a drop-off site for barely-used rich-person crib bedding, write a comment. Ta-ta.

WARNING!

Pregnancy causes klutziness!

Seriously, I'm a fairly agile walker - I even play sports regularly. I don't usually just trip when walking around the house or fall down unexpectedly. UNTIL last night... when I turned around in the basement after loading the washer (with Indie's poop stained delight) I proceeded to stub my toe so hard on a cinderblock that Craig rushed me to the ER, not by my request mind you, which means it was gory.

*Graphic details* On the way to the ER, I decided to squeeze the puss out of the top "flap" of my toe so that my toe-guts were covered. This meant blood and pussy stuff squirted all over my toe and down my foot, it was quite the delightful site. Even with this limping bloody pregnant lady walking into the ER, we had to sit and wait for three hours until finally I was over it. I told the nurse that I wasn't waiting to go into UrgentCare (they recommended this because the wait was shorter than the typical ER) for something I could wrap up myself. The nurse requested that I write a mean comment to the hospital and Craig recommended we watch "Sicko" when we returned home.

But instead, I elevated and iced my foot like a good girl while watching the Twins lose their second game to the Tigers. COME ON Twins, sheesh! While Bho did flips in my belly the whole time while enjoying a little extra blood flow since my bottom extremities were elevated. This is the plight of a newly clumsy knocked up chick. Let the good times roll.

Skinny is in, right?

So, the first "baby" looking pics are now available of Bho. Okay, I'm totally lying. Bho doesn't look anything like a baby but rather more like a skeltor child. Here she is telling me that she will be a Berkeley Child (ummm, please note the peace sign):

Here is a cute one of her long, super-model legs... taking after mommy already, I see. Heehee.

Hopefully, she "cutens up" and gains a bit of weight. Although, I have a feeling with my addiction to ice cream (no, it's not a craving - I've always eaten a lot of ice cream) she'll be a little fatty.

Puppies, rainbows, and balloons...

How do you break big news? Do you just spill the beans? Or do you let the words linger off your tongue in suspense? Personally, for me, I like to just spill the beans.

Well, normally, that is...

This time around though, it really feels like a momentous event - like something that should involve tears of joy and a truely engaged audience. I mean, knowing if we have a mini-me or a mini-Craig might throw caution into our world. Either way, we'll have a little tennis playing, snowboard rider dude that loves dogs. Now, do I have your attention?

I sure hope so... because we found out that it weighs 12 oz and is about 10 inches long. It has ten fingers and ten toes. It has normal umbicial cord pressure, bladder, stomach, heartbeat (135 bpm - are you trying guess the sex from that? Ha.) and beautiful, long skinny legs already. Most importantly, it doesn't have a cleft palate and the brain looks to be on track re: development.

What better news could I give? I mean, a healthy baby should bring joy into everyones life, right? A couple of hints... I now have someone with whom I can share clothes when I'm out of style, a shopping compatriot, a forever family who will someday bear her own children, and a girl who can overcome all gender stereotypes. I'm amazed that Bho is a SHE! Yep, bring on the terrors of pink and purple and we'll still grow into that tomboy daughter I've always wanted.

Oh dang, this means we'll be footing the wedding bill.

Craig? You'd better start putting away big $ into your retirement... you know the story, here comes daddy's little girl. You'd better not let her down, my daddy hasn't yet.

Tight shirt = many comments

Yes, I should start buying maternity clothes. It's true, I've been too lazy and still wearing my tight shirts though I'm starting to feel a bit trailer with the "beer gut" just starting to stick out. In my fantasy world, I always thought I'd be the cute girl that only gains the basketball belly and stays active the rest of the pregnancy so my ass, thighs and arms looked fit and toned. HA! Just wait, you unpregnant chicks out there... you may have the same dream as I, but when you're exhausted after just sitting in a cubicle for eight hours only to come home to gobble down a bowl of cereal (the only thing not causing heartburn - see my list below) and take a nap for an hour... you will not have the energy to run five miles like you once did. Trust me my unpregnant friends, trust me.

Anyways, the first mention of Bho today was from a stranger at 730am on the elevator. She had a slight nervous look but committed with her, "when are you due?" comment. The rest of the women on the elevator "oooooh'd" and "aaaaaah'd" until I finally got off. Thank God I work on the 3rd floor. *Please no comments that I could take the stairs... the stairwell stinks like sewer and is on the opposite side of the building. Those are definitely unpregnant-friendly resources.*

Quite peculiarly, the next array of comments came at my ex-uncles (he was divorced from my aunt) wake tonight. My extended family felt the need to comment on my belly and guess how far along I am. I forgive them though because I guess someone else's weight gain is always a pleasant conversational distraction.

What lesson did I learn today? I will not be wearing that tight sweater until I'm back down to 130lbs because it will always remind of the day that I truly started "showing" and getting the "pregnant lady oogles." Only four months to go and counting...

Guilty puppy-dog eyes

Each morning, I have my routine as everyone does... but it seems that lately Bho has either made me extra slow, extra sleepy or just plain more sentimental than normal (you'll understand in a minute).

My thrilling mornings go a little like this: Craig gets up before me, wakes me up slowly with his loud getting-dressed noises (who knew looking this good was SO loud?) while I toss and turn and the Boo hogs the bed, I mean, snuggles the pillows. It seems that finally, Craig gives me a kissy and leaves. Normally, I fall asleep for about fifteen minutes while my alarm is blasting than frantically rush into the shower wishing I would have just gotten up when he woke me the first time. After I find some resemblance of professionalism, I usually fly around the kitchen putting together a lunch. I should have realized by now that my mom is damn smart (I don't need any comments from Bho's grandma on this one though). I always thought she was such a nerd or do-goodie by making lunches the night before but today I realize she either also had a hard time getting her butt out of bed or dragging me out of bed.

Well, my final but very important piece of the routine includes cuddling the Boo and giving her my goodbyes. Maybe this is why we have such a neurotic / needy dog? I'm not sure... but I do know that our dog gets majorly depressed when she knows we're leaving.
This morning was no exception. Not only did she give me that puppy-dog look, she refused to kiss me. I tried to hug her extra tight, I even put on minty chapstick, which she normally devours... I even told her that I'd stay home from work and play outside with her. No reaction, no perk, nothing. I left this morning with gut-rot, a pit in my belly that my depressed little Boo would be under the bed crying. However, as I walked down our front steps heading to the bus stop... I heard her sweet, whining bark and I turned like in a dramatic movie and saw her head in the front window shouting, "have a great day mom!"

OH, one more thing... all my coworkers in Sweden or in other fanciful Europeon destinations are off for the next month due to "summer holiday." My good mood just turned into raging jealousy. Maybe Bho is causing moodswings? Does that mean I have to admit to them though?

I've never been commended for my patience...

Which is why we have an appointment next Monday, the 16th, to find out if Bho is a "he" or "she." Alongside the excitement and impatience of finding out if "she" will be my mini me, brings the horrific nightmare of pink flowery pretty pretty princess or blue cowboy/transportation baby themes.

Seriously, why are girls stuck with frills, priss, and glitter when boys get planes, trains, cars, and even horses?! Do I sound jealous? Hell, yeah, I'm jealous. Who prefers to stay back and "play house" with high heels on instead of catching minnows at the local stream?! Not this girl and that is exactly what happened to me in daycare around the 2nd grade.

It is quite unfortunate that my only hesitation in finding out the gender is because I'm worried that our little Bho will replicate the "girlie spoiling" that has occured on the in-law side with their firstborn niece and granddaughter. I don't want to sound ungrateful, but I'm terrified that we'll start receiving an influx of gender specific doo-dads, which is completely the opposite of what I'd like to teach little Bho. Granted, if Bho wants to wear a pink dress... fine! I don't mind, not at all. However, I'd like "her" to know that girls don't only wear princess jewels and need to be shy; girls also get to ride in planes, trains, cars and even horses! Damn, these methods of transportation may even take "her" places... magnificient places in life such as seeing history like the ruins in Athens, fast-paced city life in Shanghai, or even peace in the Middle East (hey, a girl can dream).

Speaking of dreaming, I'm hoping that these sexist societal tendencies that are apparently keeping Babies R' Us in business (have you seen those God-awful crib sets?!) will someday be quieted by parents who are patient enough to wait until their own little Bho makes the exit or refuses to accept that blue = boy, pink = girl.

Wow, I think I've convinced myself; I might just prefer a little "mini-Craig" instead. Yep, I hate pink thaaaat much. Plus, I think I'd prefer to deal with the free standing peeing and not have to explain why "he gets to be shirtless but you have to wear a bra and a shirt" in the summer heat. I'll never have an answer to that one, my poor little Bho.

I LOVE this dress and happy 4th...

Nothing says Happy Independence Day like a Russian/American, Maria Sharapova playing American Venus Williams at Wimbledon, right?!

The significance of this post is due to the great taste of Sharapova:
Can you see the ruffles? OHhhhh, so cute.

I'm totally bummed that Sharapova lost this match to Williams, 6-1, 6-3. You see, Venus' shorts are just not the fashion-inspiration that Maria provided this tournament. I'll be just dying for the US Open to begin in order to check out Sharapova's next outfit and claim that I like her mental toughness on the court just as much as those outfits.

I can't wait to get rid of Bho (literally, from my fat gut) so I can wear cute tennis clothes again. I've resorted to my largest drawstring shorts and old tee's instead of cute skirts and tanks. Oh well, they'll be waiting for me at the bottom of my drawer for next Spring.

Quite applicable...

Recently, I've found myself hurriedly rushing to the restroom wherever I go. In my mind, it isn't because I've been chugging huge Gatorade bottles filled with water... it is the weight of the extra pounds pressing on my bladder making it impossible to write one more email before dashing to the pot. Well, if you ever find yourself in this situation - I've found something just miraculous to help when you're driving down Hwy 61 and you feel the need to go, BAD.

Craig will be happy to know that I've researched where I'll be directing him to speed off the highway so I can use the toilet, baby "everything I do, I do it for you..."