The Pregnant Waddle

Pre-Pregnancy Weight Just Around the Corner (It's Trying to Run and Hide)

Thursday, September 28, 2006


I am so done with it.

I picked up Ngaire's flu bug yesterday. I was able to make it through my classes, but I started throwing up during my planning period. This joyful turn of events continued through the evening. By 8:45, I had thrown up toenails from several years back and was fantasizing about cold drinks, none of which I could hold down. The wonderful Husbandlet abandoned a hot dinner (his) to fetch 7Up (mine), a.k.a. Necter and Ambrosia, and that finally stayed put. There was much rejoicing.

Then this morning, we awoke to Ngaire's pitiful weeping. The Husbandlet finally went in to check on her, only to find her--you guessed it--covered with vomit, after going 41 hours (yes, I counted) vomit-free. So there we were, a little before 5 a.m., showering the Squid and conducting triage on her crib. Fortunately, that has been the only vomit-related incident of the day. We are hoping this trend will continue.

May the Husbandlet continue uninfected.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Ngaire says "Hi!" and a whole lot of other things, too

Ngaire is a chatterbox. She says, "Hi!" whenever she or anyone else turns on the phone (as well as dragging her very non-mobile wooden phone around behind her while babbling into the handset). She says, "Hhhhhot!" often in a whisper, around ovens, mugs of hot tea, and food fresh out of the microwave; she even blows on the food to cool it. She amused her sitter mightily by choosing a book, crawling into a chair, opening it, and reading it out loud to everyone.

On the topic of books, the Husbandlet left for a three-day conference on Sunday. I snagged the Boo and a book to distract her from his departure, and sure enough, she curled up quite happily in my lap all unknowing that Daddy was currently pulling out of the driveway. But when the book was over, she slid out of my lap, chose another book, and went trotting into our bedroom to get Daddy to read to her. She stopped in the doorway, looking for him. Then she wandered into the middle of the room and, as the truth hit her, burst into tears.

Did I tell this story to the Husbandlet later to make him feel guilty? Why yes I did.

The Husbandlet and I have had Words in the past on the topic of appropriate methods of wiping spilt food off the floor. The Husbandlet like(s)(ed) to use my dish sponge. He does not use my dish sponge anymore. However, shortly after the Husbandlet left the other day, I was distracted from dishwashing by a clingy and emotionally fragile Squid (see: Daddy's departure, above) and set my sponge on the edge of the counter, within reach of the Squid (did I mention that she can now retrieve objects off countertops and tables? She can). Later, I went into the kitchen to find the Squid carefully wiping the floor with my sponge. No secret who her daddy is.

We are home today because the Squid woke me up twice in the night with very dramatic gagging noises (and very small amounts of vomit). She wasn't running a temperature this morning and hasn't thrown up again, but she does seem a bit under the weather and I am taking the day off to look after her (and do some cleansing of various sheets), rather than oh-so-generously passing her tummy bug around the day care. Incidentally, since I am the official diaper changer around the house (poopy diapers make the Husbandlet vomit), the Husbandlet is the official vomit dealer-with. And he's out of town (see above). They are out to get me.

On a more serious note, after the second vomit incident, around 5 a.m., I went into the Boo's room and held her for a while whilst she slept. As I felt her little limbs twitch, I was struck with the fact that there was nothing I'd rather be doing in the world than holding my sleeping sick daughter. Mommyhood does funny things to you. In my former life, you couldn't have paid me enough to sit under a little person who might suddenly shower me with stomach acid. I'd far rather have been off accomplishing great things in the world of English literature. I'm still all about the literature, but motherhood has reformated my priorities. My baby likes to turn her face into my neck and tuck her arms under mine. She toddles up to me with a book in her outstretched hand and a huge questioning smile on her face. She flings herself into my arms and snuggles close. I could give up anything, make any sacrifice for her, serve her in any way, and never see it as a burden or a loss.

Saturday, September 16, 2006


Inspired (sadly) by the recent death of an elderly man at our church, the Husbandlet and I had the following irreverent conversation on the way to work this morning:

Him: Funerals are expensive. When I die, donate my body to science, after you take out all the organs that could do anybody any good. Or wrap me in a sheet and bury me in the backyard, and plant some interesting tree over me.

Me: Just not a mango tree. (The Husbandlet is allergic to mangoes.)

Him: Yeah, it might make the tree break out with some sort of weird rash.

Me: The mangoes would have this unidentifiable growth on their skins.

Him: No, donate me to VMRC.

Me: To what?

Him: I just gave you the wrong letters. I meant to say VCU. It’s a medical research center. VMRC is the Virginia Marine Resource Commission.

Me: “I don’t know why he wanted me to give you his body, but it’s here in his will! Do you know what to do with it? I don’t know what to do with it!”

Him: “Break out the meat grinder, Bubba! We’re feeding the crabs!”

Me: Yuck!

Him: Well, what else would they do with me?

Me: Prop you in a desk chair and just say you’ve got tenure.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

La la la I should be grading la la

I've got nothin'.

Week Two of school has been ... tiring. I'm feeling the strain of keeping my classes on task and on track, combating the withering forces of the Powers That Be Constantly Disrupting the Instructional Flow They So Laud.

In other news, I'm beginning to mull over thoughts about birth control. I have nothing tremendously huge against the theory of unnatural family planning, but I haven't met a form of contraception that I actually like. WARNING WARNING TMI A-COMIN': For the three-plus years of our marriage, the Husbandlet and I have been using this, but, as it turns out, this. So, now this, to the general angst of all.

Why not the good old Pill? Well, I'm pro-life, and though many dear and much-respected friends provide reasonable arguments as to why the Pill's implantation-preventing qualities aren't really that big a deal, I don't personally have freedom of conscience on the matter. Analogies about the difference between driving a car and having the brakes unexpectedly fail, and driving a car knowing it to have faulty brakes come to mind. I'd rather err on the side of caution, reproductively speaking.

So: the Pill, shots, ring, and IUD are right out. NFP isn't the most accurate method in the world. Condoms aren't much fun, spermicides aren't very reliable, and I'm totally and completely sick of the diaphragm and its attendant Issues. The cervical cap ... I'm not even sure it exists. So what's a girl to do?

All I can say is, the Husbandlet's testicles should be very, very afraid.

So how about y'all? Thoughts on the subject?

Saturday, September 09, 2006

I have NOT disappeared from the face of the earth

I’ve just gone back to work. I suppose there’s a difference.

Ngaire has so many new tricks that I’m going to talk about them first, lest I forget even more of them than I’ve already forgotten. First off, as of August 30, she’s been weaned.* I had to go on a round of antibiotics that stated quite firmly on the instructions, “DO NOT BREASTFEED WHILE TAKING THIS.” And I had to take it for seven days. So I figured, well, I could always start nursing her again, but then we’d have to go through the whole weaning process again later, and she WAS 13 and a half months old. So now the Husbandlet gets her in the morning and gives her a bottle, snuggling in bed with him, while I get myself ready. Then I wake them up and dress and play with the Squid a bit before we leave for work, while the Husbandlet readies himself for the day. This system seems to be working just fine; I enjoy the extra time to myself in the mornings and the Husbandlet claims to enjoy the Squid snuggles. The weaning process itself has been mostly smooth. Two nights ago, when my PJ’s brushing against my chest nearly drove me to tears, I broke out the breast pump, but other than that I haven’t been too uncomfortable. Ngaire has only asked to nurse a few times, and only twice with the piteous cries and clutchings at the boobies, which was fairly heart-wrenching but seemed to pass quickly.

She is getting more words all the time. She now says Daddy, Mama, baba (for bottle), hi, baby, deeky (for binky), please, and thank you, and she signs “All done” when she’s finished eating. She is trying so hard to talk, and it’s really neat being able to communicate with her a bit more and have her communicate back.

She’s quite imitative … today she spent quite a while walking around the house holding her little wooden phone to her ear and babbling into it. The walking while on the phone she gets from her daddy. The constant talking on the phone she gets from me.

She gives lovely baby kisses if we offer our cheeks and ask nicely, and she wraps her little arms around us and gives real hugs.

She has recently developed the stellar talent of falling back asleep if, after falling asleep in her carseat, she is wakened and moved into her crib. This means that Mommy and Daddy can occasionally have a later night out.

As for me … the first week of work went really well. I feel like I’ve finally gotten the hang of this teaching thing in the sense that I’m feeling fully satisfied with my performance. Ironically, this is likely to be my last year of teaching for awhile. That Murphy and his laws. However, by the end of the year, I will certainly be ready to take a good long break from the studentlets.

The Husbandlet has been tremendously busy with schooly/worky things plus an ear infection. In some ways, I think settling into the routine of me going to work/him finishing up the field season and settling in to write his dissertation will actually be rather restful for us. Especially if there are no more infections of any kind (I myself have had five infections of a variety of types this summer, and to the barrier method of birth control which we have been using and which I blame for ALL of said infections, I can only say: Feh).

In less intimate news, I just finished reading Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, and I highly, highly recommend it. I found it a deeply satisfying book. It’s a bit of Jane-Austen-meets-Tolkien, if you can imagine that, but the modern novel I’d most closely compare it to is Possession, and from me that’s high praise. If you pick it up, though, be forwarned: it’s very, very, very long.

OK. Going to bed now. I’ll try not to let so much time elapse before posting again … don’t want to disappoint my vast readership, of course.

* Ngaire's last breastfeeding, though I didn't realize that's what it was at the time, occurred some time after her bedtime, when she woke up screaming. Normally we just wait and she finds her binky and goes back to sleep, but this time she kept crying, so I went in and nursed her one more time. Now I am so very glad that I did so, that I got one bonus opportunity to cuddle and feed her and feel her little warm, limp body in my arms. Sweet Boo.