36 Weeks and Counting

See? Growing aren't I? This is me at 36 weeks. This baby is quite low compared to Elle. I feel like half the time she is sitting on my lap, from inside my belly.

Feeling good, except for the occasional shooting pain that sends me to my knees. My Doctor says it's just because she is so low, in position, getting ready for the big day, and bumping up against all those fantastically sensitive nerve endings. Just a little "coming attraction" for the real thing in a few weeks, I guess.

Not long now!!!!

The Best Santa Ever

Elle visited with quite possibly the best Sant aI have ever seen. The guy was the real deal. Real beard. Real Belly. Real twinkle. Real jolly. See?

And this is coming from someone who, as a child, actually pulled the fake beard off of a Santa because, well, I knew it was a fake beard and this guy was trying to pulling one over on us kids. Yah, the parents and kids behind us reeeeaaaalllllyy appreciated my critical-thinking-at-a-young-age skills.

Anyway, we had a blast with Santa.

PS, we strolled through the mall the other night to see the Christmas decorations and "Santa" was there. He was a typical mall Santa...not too jolly, fake belly. You could go up and say hi if you wanted.

As we waited in line to say hello, Elle says "That's a different Santa."

"Oh, you think?" I said nervously.

I just hoped she wouldn't get close enough to give that beard a healthy tug.

Belly shots

Coming soon, I promise. I've progressed quite a bit since the last ones...

Southern B(elle) continued

This is Elle, telling her Dad, quite graciously, where he should start up the landscaping fabric again once he's done with that spot. (This is one of "our" big backyard projects..I say "our" because clearly I have nothing to offer but opinions and snapshots, while my daughter and husband do all the hard work.)

Then, on October 27th at 5:57 pm it happened. Elle crossed the (Mason Dixon?) line. Here's the scene.

We are cooking dinner, Elle is "helping." She loves playing with the kitchen timer. She reaches up to grab it and says:

"I'm going to set this timer for y'all."
Me, incredulous: "What did you say, dear?" thinking maybe I misunderstood the last word.
Elle" "I'm going to set this timer for y'all."
Kyle, laughing at the shock on my face, and basically poking fun at me: "Elle, don't you mean ' for you guys?'"
Elle, ignores us, as usual, and goes on her own way, sashaying into the living room to bask in the fun of beeping the buttons and changing the numbers on the timer.

I'm sure the next thing out of her mouth will be "mac and cheese is a side dish, mom!"

Musings on Veggies and Side Dishes

When Kyle and I first met, we ate out a lot-it was summer, we worked hard, there were lots of good places to eat.



I was so nervous to cook for him the first few times since he had already cooked gourmet meals for me and I knew what I was up against. I remember the first meal I made for him: pan fried rainbow trout. It was pretty good!



As I stuggled to find yummy things to make, I remembered a great recipe for Mac and Cheese, a perrenial favorite, a luscious comfort dish for New Englanders. I told Kyle I was making Mac and Cheese for dinner and he looked at me and said "and what else?"

Me: "Probably a salad?"

Kyle: "And what else?"

Me: "Um, well, what else do you need to have with Mac anc Cheese? It's a meal in itself."



Now, if you know Kyle, you know this was his way of trying to tell me something without actually just coming out and telling me something. Sometimes you have to read between the lines with the man, god love him. Finally, I keep pushing him, and he says:



"Macaroni and Cheese is a side dish. It's like a vegetable. You don't eat it as a meal in itself. It's a side dish."

Me: "What the hell are you talking about? It's not a side dish, and it is certainly not a vegetable."

Kyle: "It's a 'three' as in a 'meat and three'."

Me: speechless. No idea what he is talking about.

Kyle: "In the South, you go into a restaurant and you get a 'meat and three': you choose a meat and three sides..usually you have a choice of mac and cheese, butter beans, rice and gravy, collards, cream style corn or mashed potatoes."

Me: Arteries hardening, I say something like "Oh. Ok. Well, we're not doing a meat and three here and that list of side dishes is a laundry list of carbs, so I'll give you that we should have some protein with our Mac and Cheese but I'm not willing to relegate it to a side dish nor am I able to call it a vegetable. We'll have to agree to disagree. And I think maybe you are kidding anyway"



Then we moved here and I realized that he wasn't kidding about any of it. Not only can you buy a NUMBER 10 CAN (aka restaurant-sized, big ass) of butter beans but also a 25lb bag of SUGAR, too. AT THE REGULAR GROCERY STORE.

sO, What constitutes veggies in Your corner of the world?

Halloween 2008

Elle wanted to be a clown this year. I'm not sure why because like most toddlers, she has always been terrified of clowns. But, it was the only thing she said she wanted to be for the last month, so we went with it. Maybe she's cured?

I made her clown shirt and her auntie made her clown pants. We had a super fun time and hope you all did, too!

Thinking of Names

Elle is in deep thought here, one day last month at the Zoo's aquarium.

We've been in deep thought, too, over BABY NAMES. We have a few we like, but are having a hard time choosing, narrowing. And then we keep discovering new ones and adding them to the list.

We tried asking Elle what she wants to call the new baby, and she has two reponses:

"Baby Sister"

"Stacianna" (her best friend at school.)

Not much help.

How about you, any ideas? Post away!

Car Washin'

Elle, like many two and a half year olds, loves to help. With everything. EVERYTHING.



Even things you don't really need or want help with( showers, going to the bathroom, brushing teeth;-)



She really wanted to help Kyle wash our cars. I think she ended up washing everything but the cars: Kyle's leg, the driveway, the bushes, herself.



She paused to take a spin or two with the wash cloth and I managed to snap a pretty good picture.

7:18 am

One morning last month I had to frost a chocolate mocha cake I'd made the night before for a family birthday party. Elle was helping, as usual, and after I made finished whipping the frosting I remembered how my mother and grandmother used to always let me lick the beaters (like so many children, right?)

I looked at the clock: it was 7:18 am. Not the ideal time for a sugar fix, right?

Ah, what the hell.

Southern (B)elle

It is becoming increasingly obvious that Elle, although born in New England, is growing some Southern Roots.

Here are phrases I have heard her say over the last few weeks:

"I'm fixin to do that" (translation for my fellow Yankees: "I'm about to do that")

"I'm going to put it up" ("I'm going to put it away")

"Hey Momma!" ("Hi Mom")

Her starch of choice: Grits.

Her dessert of choice: Banana pudding.

Approximate number boiled peanuts she has eaten: 5

Number of times she has spit them out:0

(For reference)

Number of boiled peanuts I have eaten:1

Number of boiled peanuts I have spit out:1

I'll let you know when I hear "Y'all" for the first time.

Summer

Will it ever end?



No, really, is it ever going to end? Please?



These words coming from a New Englander are like blasphemy. Anyone who has grown up in New England knows the sweet, warm days of summer are for cherishing, not wishing away, because in what feels like 10 minutes, summer is over and the rest of the year begins (as does the countdown to next summer.)



That is, unless, of course you are a yankee living in the South. Or, damn Yankee, if you prefer. Other than today, which must have been a freak accident, it has still been in the mid-90s every day. EVERY DAY.




It's basically the polar opposite of living in Maine but the end result is the same. In Maine, we had 4 months of cold, darkness, overcast skies, stuck inside your house except for those days when you are lulled outside for a brisk walk by the fleeting promise of sun and relative warmth between the house of 12 and 2pm, but all that really happens is your nose hairs freeze.




Here, we have 4 months of sweltering heat, 95% humidity, no clouds in the sky, stuck in your house except when you are lulled outside because it looks so darn pretty but in fact it's so humid and hot that poking your head out the front door is like sticking your head in a 450 degree oven. Yes, you can feel the heat blowing against your face. And it hurts.



Elle now says things like " I gotta go inside and cool off!" and, like tonight (it was 75 degrees outside) "Ooooh, it's CHILLY!"

Hmmm, it's all about perspective.... ;-)

Gelato and the Beach

Gelato and the Beach: two of my favorite things and I think these girls agree.

Here is Elle in Maine with a few of her favorite girlfriends-she only gets to see them once a year but I think it's pretty obvious from the ear to ear grin that she still thinks any time spent with them is pretty special.


I think so too.

27 Weeks and Counting

We celebrate our wedding anniversary Thursday!

Sooo, last Sunday we went out of town for the night ALONE to eat and be merry.

Here I am at almost 27 weeks, just before dinner. It was one of the best meals we've had in a long time.

Have you ever had souffle? Not just any souflle, but praline chocolate souffle?

I have. And it rocks.

Time to cut my hair

As you veteran moms know, one of the perks of being pregnant, other than the fabulousness of new-found cleavage (sorry, I really do think it's fabulous, and I know one other person that thinks it's pretty darn fabulous, too.) is that your hair is extra luxurious, thick, flowing and rock star. It also grows like a WEED which is why I need to get my hair cut soon, if for any reason than to just to get rid of the extra weight.

Everytime I get my hair cut here now, I think back to the very first time I got my haircut in this southern town. The salon I went to that day in May 2007 was a fancy little spot owned by a decidedly saucy fellow who catered to his share of proud, proper, southern ladies-who-lunch. My sister-in-law recommended this spot because the owner is a great stylist whom she knew well, and she promised, would not just part my hair down the middle and start chopping away. He might actually understand how to style curly hair, which actually, is tougher than it seems, aparently, from the number of bad haircuts I've had in my life.

I came in and sat in the small waiting area, facing the backs of two perfect, proud, proper, older southern ladies dressed to the nines. The owner asked me my last name, nodded and smiled in acknowledgment of the sister-in-law connection, and said he'd be with me in a few minutes. He was styling one of the ladies. I opened a magazine and read, trying to ignore the banter between the two ladies, the owner, and the other stylist. Until I heard this:

PPSL1 (Proud, proper, southern lady 1): "Northererns. Hmm. They are everywhere here, moving down here in numbers."


PPSL2 (Proud, proper, southern lady 2): "I know. I tell ya'll, they are ruinin' our culture!" (pronounced CUL-CHA)


PPSL1: "I'm sick of hearing 'where can I get a bagel? Why you ya'll eat biscuits?'"


PPSL2 "I ran into another one at the grocery store!"


Now, I could not have made this up if I tried. And actually, this was the absolute funniest thing I'd ever heard. I was totally not offended. I loved it. I'm sitting, crouched behind this magazine, grinning from ear to ear. Remember, the owner KNOWS MY HUSBAND'S FAMILY and knows we just moved here, and KNOWS I am a Yankee. And finally, he peers over the ladies' heads, and, fighting back the giggles, yells to me,

"Hey! You're a Yankee, aren't you?"

Me: "Yup."

The two PPSL were mortified, because, well, they got bagged--and getting bagged is SO not southern. Nor proper. Now, from all I have gathered so far in living here, I am going to relay one of the big differences between New Englanders and Southerners, other than the bagels v. biscuit thing, which is right on the money.

And, forgive me if I generalize, and I'm generalizing in the most comical way, so all you southerners out there reading this, who are about to be offened, just lighten up.....


Southern folks are quite hospitable and friendly to strangers and to anyone and everyone they meet. Sickeningly sweet. Helpful. Seemingly immediate friends for life. Offering strangers cold, sweet tea on a hot summer day. (Ok, I'm exaggerating here, but you get the idea.) But watch your back, ok? Because the coin has two sides.... the next day it might be "Oh, bless her heart...but she's a mess!" Or worse. And, they hate getting called on that. (I'll get back to what happened next with the ladies after the following New England generalization.)


On the other hand, New Englanders are cautious, even stoic with strangers from the start. No iced tea for you, stranger, I have no idea who the hell you are! And I don't trust you! And I'm not going to pretend I do, until I do! So go get your own damn iced tea. And if I run into you a few more times around town, and you don't piss me off, then maybe I'll smile at you, and even carry on a conversation. But just give me some time. Any whatever you do, don't start acting like we are best friends until I'm ready. It wierds me out. And I'll tell you that to your face.

Can you see why Southerners think Northerners are unfriendly, and why Northerners think Southerners are fake? Ok, back to the ladies.

So, after the owner says this to me and I respond, the two ladies, still with their backs to me, start backstepping....

PPSL1: "Oh, my, well, I mean, I know some Northen folks that I DO like!"

PPSL2: "YES, hmm, and, well, you know, we're just 'talking,' telling stories, joking." And they quickly change subjects.


I think this is a riot.

I finally get into the chair and the ladies are under the dryers, trying not to make eye contact with me. A few minutes later, the scissors are to my head, I'm in a haircut coma, day dreaming, when I look up and one of the ladies is walking right behind me, and the owner, while running his fingers through my hair, says to her:

"Isn't her hair just gorgeous?" (Yah, he totally did that on purpose. He loved seeing those ladies squirm as much as I did and could not let them just walk on by.)

PPSL1: "Oh, yes, it IS!" she says, our eyes meeting in the mirror.

And, I couldn't resist:

Me: "Not bad for a Yankee, huh?"

I'm going to hell.

I never promised anything...

Now I understand the angst that accompanies starting up one of these things: you actually have to POST THINGS now and then. Hey, I never promised I'd be keeping up with my northern friends at http://www.hankandwillie.com/ or http://www.mandcbuildahouse/ . Thank god. If I had, I'd be failing miserably, and I don't like to fail. Or lose. But that's another story.


I have finally shared the news my superiors at work. Yes, I had not yet told my bosses nor had they noticed my bulging belly due to the HORRIBLE shirt I have to wear when teaching (it's a button down, polyester blend, short sleeve, polo shirt with logo that is a size too big.) With as horrible as the shirt is, you might have thought someone would have suspected something when I started to wear the shirt everyday, whether or not I had any kids to teach. I mean, what would posses someone to wear an ugly, oversized uniform shirt in lieu of your regular clothes, other than maybe you're hiding a big belly or you just haven't had a chance to wash your regular clothes for a while. Hmm? To confess, my reasoning might have included a little of both.


Why did I wait so long? I had this fear that as soon as I told them I was preggers they would cease and desist giving me any more repsonsibility and my career would come to a standstill. See, the city where we live now is not exactly busting at the seams with cultural institutions or nonprofits, and so I'm pretty fortunate to have found THE ONLY JOB HERE that I could put on my resume and still show some continuity and upward mobility in terms of nonprofit educational management. So, I was a little scared that if I couldn't keep moving forward here, where else would I go? Turns out, we had some major shakeups at work, the people I was really scared to tell "moved on" and the new folks were open and understanding.


So--so far, so good. Everyone knows. And now I can wear maternity shirts to work. And not look over my shoulder at Target, when I have my big belly showing, wondering if I'll see someone from work and have to dive, with Elle, into the dollar bin, to duck from them. Whew.

Elle has begun to talk about her baby sister on her own. My favorite moment was when we were just getting out of the car at the park one day last week:

"Mom!"
"What?"
"We forgot baby sister at home!"
"No we didn't she's right here, in my belly-that's where she lives, remember?"
"Oh. Is she coming out?"
"Nope. Not til Christmas."

Gotta love it.

Sweet Tater or Tater Tot?

When I was pregnant with Elle, Kyle's great Uncle "Chunk" asked the question, "Will it be a 'Sweet Tater' (girl) or a 'Tater Tot'(boy)?" As many of you know, Kyle's childhood/family nickname is "Tater," and South Carolina is known for it's local sweet potatoes, so the nicknames could not be more fitting.

So, here is a picture of Baby Y2. Can you tell if we are looking at a Sweet Tater or a Tater Tot? Yah, I know, it's just a profile, but I seem to remember hearing a bunch of opinions from many folks just looking at my belly. Now you've got an inside peek at the action. Hmm? Whaddayah say? Stumped?

It's a Sweet Tater. ;-)

Blueberries for Elle

On a recent trip back to Maine Elle got to experience her own little miracle: she got to pick blueberries, "like Sal."

("Blueberries for Sal," come on people!)

Her she is in all her glory, picking and eating. Yum.

Boy or Girl?

Hopefully next week at my appointment we'll get to find out the gender of this baby moving around inside me.

We found out with Elle and, luckily, they were right! Everything about my prenatal care experience here, where we live now, has been 100% opposite of my experience in Maine. So, I've had to adjust my expectations quite a bit...I no longer expect a big, proud smile each time from the doctor listening to my baby's heartbeat, the offer of herbal tea upon walking into the Women's Center, plopping into a nice comfy couch to wait approximately 5.5 minutes to be called to my appointment, an easy to understand billing system...well, you get the drift.

Anyway, we lived in a bubble for many years and it's tough to adjust to life in the real world, I guess. At least it's doesn't get dark here in the winter at 3:30 here and I don't have to drive 1 hour to buy underwear.

So, I've heard many "predictions" as to whether or not I am having a boy or a girl. Got any? Leave a comment. I'll be hitting you up for names later: we're stumped for this one.

Diapers Be Gone...for a few months?

I started getting hard core with Elle about using the potty about a week and half ago and, well, she has risen to the occasion! It's kind of amazing to see how kids can sometimes just meet those expectations you set for them, even when you think you may be setting the bar a little high.

I wasn't sure she was ready to go straight to underwear, but after about 4 days of only one "accident" a day, and a healthy fear of using public bathrooms (shouldn't we all be a little scared of public bathrooms?) she is using the potty like a champ, at home, in stores, at the park, and sometimes even calling out in the middle of the night

"I HAVE TO GO POTTY!!!!"

Yah, that part sucks a bit. 98% of me wants to just yell back

"JUST GO IN YOUR NIGHTTIME DIAPER, I'M TOO LAZY TO GET OUT OF BED RIGHT NOW."

Oops, did I say that out loud? Don't judge me. Kyle pondered if she was ready for a big girl bed yet, so she might be able to get out of bed on her own to go potty in the middle of the night. Yah, he totally said that. Does he not remember that in 4.5 months we're going to be begging for the days of waking up just once a night? Guess not. I won't tell him if you don't.

Anyway, here is Elle in all her glory....

OOPS, WE DID IT AGAIN.

Some of you know this already, but, for those who don't: we're having another baby!

No, it wasn't really an "oops." We planned it, actually. It's just that a few times over the past four months, as Elle is yelling that she wants to wear (only) a "dress," and "not that one, the OTHER one!!! NO!!! The OTHER ONE!!! NO , the OTHER ONE" and I lose all rational thought and begin frantically sifting through dirty clothes looking for "the other one" that I think to myself "Oops. We did it again?" Like, what were we thinking?

Anyway, we're having another baby, in December, and we really are pretty darn excited.

I thought this might be the best way for us to share and connect with family and friends so far away, during this special time, so I'm giving it a shot. I'm hoping to keep this updated with pictures and anecdotes...of pregnancy, Elle, our southern life in Flo-Town.

Bear with me. Visit early and often. And, please comment...so we know you are out there;-)