Monday, 22 October 2012

Sweet CP WC Skillz

Note:  This is not a drinking-friendly post.  If you're holding a glass of apple juice or warm beer, you might want to finish it, then return to this.

I am a woman of limited skills.* 

Actually, that's not true.  I have an amazing ability to rapidly achieve mediocrity in almost anything I've ever tried (can I be proud of that, please?), with the exceptions of snowboarding and competitive fitness.

Learning to snowboard (winter 2006) was a painful, slow, awful, steep, painful (did I say painful?) and humbling experience.  On the 7th lesson of the 8-week program, I finally stayed on my feet for one entire S-curve.  The rest of the time, my claim to fame was being to get up again very quickly after I wiped out, after spending only seconds (tenuously) upright.  At one point, there was a pig-pile of about eight of us, despondent, dejected and bruised, watching a very old man slowly snowplow by us on skis.  "Oh wow," someone breathed.  "That looks awesome."

The other notable exception was competing in fitness.  The whole thing is suspicious, frankly, and I don't think I'm out of line to call "shenanigan!" on it.  First, what are the chances that my ongoing love of muscles, acrobatics, extreme bounciness and high heels could come together into one sport, just for me?  It seems a bit too orchestrated, or intelligently-designed, if you will.  And second, I'm still suspicious of a sport that I did so well in.  If I was that good, it obviously can't be very hard, and thus I really shouldn't feel as ridiculously proud of my trophies as I do (the only trophies I've ever won, as you don't get trophies for mediocrity, apparently).  To sum up, as it is a pretend sport that was apparently created just for me to make up for a childhood and adolescence devoid of any great performances (aside from the "I'm Short" speech of 2010), it really shouldn't count.

Hey, remember this look? Next time I go onstage, I'll make sure that my fake eyelashes aren't gluing one eye half-shut. I promise.

Which brings us to the ongoing struggle to develop new skills -- dare I say expertise -- as an adult.  I did some research and decided to focus on an activity that I've worked on (and succeeded at, briefly) in the past:  peeing in a cup.

As a pregnant lady, you are expected to pee in a LOT of cups.  A lot.  Every time you see a doctor, a nurse, a lab technician, or even just a latex glove, you are required to produce a little cup full of pee. 

The first few times I went in, it was a bit messy, I admit.  But as the months go by, I got better and better at it - more in the cup, less ... well, everywhere else.  With each of my bellies, in months 5-7 of pregnancy, I think I could have competed in the Cup-Peeing World Championships (which I'll shorten to "WC" for fun).

But like every good sports psychologist and Human Kinetics student knows, there is a performance curve.  Now, I'm not saying that I've psyched myself out of producing a quality cup (and a dry hand), but I'm just admitting that, perhaps, lately I have been feeling "off" and "missing the mark". 

I blame not being able to see jack squat.  Or myself squat, for that matter.  It's really just a guessing game at this point - am I aiming right?  Or am I even holding a cup?  I don't know.  Do I still have feet?  No idea.

To sum up, I have now peaked at the one thing that I've been completely awesome at lately.**

Maybe I should go back to competing.

Random Foot Check, 22 October 2012, at 34 weeks pregnant. 
Sometimes I can't even see the floor, let alone my feet. 
Yesterday, in the car, my belly actually startled me into tears, it looked so big. 
I'm ok now. 

Second Child Syndrome?  Ha!  Try Third Child Syndrome! 
This is the most recent ultrasound of Punchy, and, I believe, the only one I've uploaded so far. 
Oh, the parental shame. 
You can eerily creepily actually see its eyeballs
The position of its tiny upraised fist make it look like it's knocking on my uterus, as if to say, "Please let me out now." 
Or possibly, "Why you little..."

*Ok, fine.  Limited marketable skills.  Better?

** Although I DID make a pie about which Chris said, UNPROMPTED, was one of the best pie experiences he'd ever had.  (The secret is the vodka.)  (Shhhh.)

Wednesday, 17 October 2012

Desperate Housewife aka A Cry for Help

Hey, does anyone remember the last flowchart I made?

Well, for some reason, we seemed to have more options way back in June 2010.  Here's the current Plan for my contacts during labour: 

Now, this won't be a problem at all.  In fact, we can completely ignore the bright yellow panic icon if the baby hangs out in utero till November 6th (I'll be just about 37 weeks along) (at which time the sun seekers will have returned from their vacation*).  However, the doctorb has repeatedly gotten my hopes up warned me that this one is ready for an early exit.

Which leaves us with a two-week window in which the arrival of Punchy will be more ... problematic... than not. 

So, faithful reader(s),** I throw myself on your mercy!!!  The kids, of course, are in daycare (and the Amazing Amanda has been picking them up from our house every morning - incredible!!!), and in the unlikely event*** that the baby should arrive in the middle of the night, you'd just be needed to show up, sleep, eat breakfast with two deeeeelightful Hufflings, etc, until Chris can come home from the hospital.  Any takers?  We have cable and internet, a stocked freezer and liquor cabinet, are close to downtown and RCMP HQ (hint hint), and we would be in your debt forever.

So, really, please let me know if this would be an option for any of you.  Please.  Think of this as a telethon to update my flowchart, but with less entertainment.  And more desperation. 

The Fine Print:  An offer of help could possibly result in a phone call at 2 am, requiring you to leave your nice warm bed/bar and sleep at our place.  The kids wake up at 7, and get picked up at the door around 8/8:30.  They need to be picked up by 5 pm (but I can negotiate with Amanda for a drop-off, too - did I mention she's amazing?), and honestly, once the labour part of the hospital stuff is over, I don't need Chris around, so your time commitment wouldn't extend past, oh, 12 hours or so. The "debt forever" bit is true, but we can bargain - how would you like our first born son?  He's really quite something...

* Query:  if you're already retired, do you really need to take vacations?  Really?  From what, exactly?

** Of course, if you're a random stranger reading this, maybe you should skip this part.

*** "Unlikely" in that, sure, the last two were born at 5:20 and 6:45 am, respectively.  At one point during labour with Ailsa, I saw Chris look at the clock, and I said, "I know what you're thinking."  "Do you?" he said.  "You're thinking, 'I bet some people have babies at reasonable times of day,' aren't you?"  He was.

Thursday, 11 October 2012

DG Decorates for Dictators

Little dictators, that is.  Cute ones. 

The challenge of putting two strong-minded Hufflings into one room, and keeping it fun, organized, and, well, to the taste of each actually wasn't too hard.  The main challenge is keeping it neat, as we're still housing half of the basement toys up here, and, as a friend recently said, the "entropic power" of small children is quite staggering.

The other challenge, of course, is making two best friends go to bed and stay in bed, when really, they just want to giggle and sing and poke at each other all the time.  It's completely, utterly adorable.  Until about 8:15.  Ailsa, who used to barely stay awake till 7:30 and have to be woken up at 8 am or later, given her druthers, is now a willing sidekick and emissary to her brother, who likes to inform us at, say, 2 am, that his blankets are tangled, or that at 5:40 am that he has to pee.  He sends in his messenger first, who informs us that "Vaughn needs you." 


The room was already a nice sunny blue, and we had put the super-cute animal decals back on when it was just Vaughn's room.  But since his favourite sister moved in, we thought we should change it to suit both of their tastes.  Which meant that neither would get what they wanted, although alternating trucks and "pincesses" might have been interesting, but I knew that one curious little monkey could bring them together.

There were plain white Eclipse curtains up on the walls before (to keep out light and insulate the large window a bit more), but the new decals required some colour so that everything looked finished. Being on bed rest, I naturally decided to take the kids to Fabricland for a horrifying stressful fun adventure. I don't think we'll be welcomed back, as it is apparently the most fun store ever. So many colours! So many patterns! And for Ailsa, so much PINK! "More PINK!" she squealed.... "Mommy!  Lllloook!  PINK!"....over and over and over...

Anyhoo, I finally sat down with my trusty sewing machine (which hasn't been used since the last Curtain Debacle of 2010) and put these beauties together.  The Warden (who has returned home now, as Fis is back) (daily internal debate over which is worse continues) wouldn't let me hang them, but we both agreed that they give the room a nice finishing touch, non?

Next project:  insulating the windows in the new baby's room.  The baby turtle, being a third child, gets hand-me-down decor from Ailsa, but I think I can update it enough so that it's none the wiser... until it's old enough to read my blog.