East Coast swing

I do believe I may have aged 10 years at library storytime yesterday.

It was great and fun, but of the 15 kids who were there, Jack was the only one who was walking. Thus he was the only one walking around the room.

Grabbing toys and trying to grab the books and generally being the center of attention.

I think he had fun. I think I needed a valium.

I type this from my phone at the lake in the beautiful Wisconsin Dells. We're on vacation in various locations hither and yon for the next 10 days. I will try to update as I can, but definitely before the big cerclage Aug. 6. Ten days and counting...yikes.

Cheesehead

Does anyone else find it highly amusing that one of the four airports terrorists are suspected of practicing on is located in Wisconsin? And they were using cheese as a possible explosive?

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I laughed myself silly when I read that. And I am from Milwaukee, so I am allowed.

Quiet in the library

Today I took Jack to the neighborhood library for the first time.

He absolutely loves books. He has a little chair and two crates of books that he "reads" every day at home in the kitchen. He loves to just sit and turn the pages and make the animal noises for the ones he recognizes. Mommy loves it because this is something he can do quietly for about 15 minutes without biting me. Which allows me to do something productive like read blogs or catch up on my TMZ.com or drink a margarita.

Yes, I am pregnant. What of it? Tequila is one of the viatmins in my prenatal isn't it?

So we went to the library, where I was able to get my very own Chicago library card! Lived here seven years and never set foot in a library, I figured it was about time.

After perusing the fiction shelves and picking up a Bret Easton Ellis novel I have been meaning to read, and looking fruitlessly for the first Harry Potter tome, we headed to the children's room.

Jack couldn't vault out his stroller fast enough. He was so excited to see a roomful of books JUST FOR HIM. They had little tables and chairs and he just kept going to the shelves and bringing me books. Not to read, no, he just wanted to carry them around. He even tried to share them with other kids, which is cute, but not so much when he grabs them back two seconds later.

He sobbed when we had to leave, as if he would never see another book in his whole life. I assured him we would be back, but he didn't believe me. So we're going to try the story time on Thursday. It's for kids six months to 3 years old. This should be an adventure.

Forbidden fruit

Sometimes, making the forbidden accessible suddenly changes it into something no one cares about.

Case in point, the bookshelves in our living room.

I read. A lot. I have accumulated a lot of books over the years and they are contained in three bookshelves in the living room. Arranged alphabetically, by author's last name, naturally. I would institute the Dewey Decimal System, but that might be too confusing for the guests.

Jack has developed a curiosity about the books that overwhelms his good sense on some days. When he was a wee crawler, he could have cared less about them. But once he started to walk, they consumed him. How could he get his hands on them and how many could he pull out at once?

I, of course, am not such a fan of my books having pages ripped from them. Call me a purist, but I like my books in their original condition.

So we started blocking the shelves with his ottoman toybox and the ottoman from the furniture. It worked OK, but once he realized he could reach next to the ottoman and snake his skinny little arm in there and pull out books, all bets were off.

Timeouts ensued for this little trick once he hit 16 months and would look right at me with a devilish grin on his face and run for the shelves. That, or when I was not paying enough attention to him, he would run right there so I would have to do something about it.

The timeouts did their trick and he was mostly cured of his habit. Every once in a while he would do it and he would get a timeout and then we would go on our merry little ways.

This weekend, we had some people over and moved the ottoman toybox over to the other side of the room, where it actually belongs, for additional seating. Jack came down from his nap and looked at us like "OHMYGOD PEOPLE! The books! I have access to the books! But ooooo, look, my zebra is here and I am going to bounce."

And then he promptly ignored the bookshelves. Three days now, and no book-pulling. How awesome is that?

I am thinking we should just do the same thing when he's in high school. We'll just leave the alcohol out for him, a couple of bags of pot on the counter and some porn in the magazine stack. That should work right? If not, we'll have the most popular house in the neighborhood.

I really have good intentions

Every week I make a new promise to myself that I will blog more. This past two months has been pathetic in my once-a-week drivel production.

This week I had all intentions of being better. And then. Well, here it is Friday.

I actually feel somewhat bad. Last pregnancy, I documented every twinge and milestone. Now I'm look "Oh look, into the second trimester already! Yay, no more sickness! Ooooh look at that shiny coin on the ground!" and then I forget about myt blog for another week.

So next week, I am making a commitment to be better. And then the week after that we're going on an adults-only vacation for our anniversary. And then the week after that I will be back to normal.

I just hate when blogs I read every day aren't updated for days on end. I somehow feel cheated. So I pledge to not cheat any of you out there. Because I know you are dying for stories about biting and nausea and the drudgery of rainy days and how we spend them at Ikea eating meatballs. Yes, that actually happened this week.

Vampiric qualities

You know what's so cute I fall down laughing when it happens?

When Jack bites me. And then hits me.

No, really, it's like the new Def Comedy Jam for 2007.

Today, I was having a perfectly nice conversation with my friend on the telephone. It wasn't like I was dragging it out -- she just had a baby and we were discussing breastfeeding. Someone decided he did not want me to be chatting on the phone, so he started to whine. When I went up to him to try and see if that would help, he buried his face in my legs and bit down on the inside of my thigh.

After yelping in pain, I said "just a minute" to my friend and sternly, in a raised voice, said, "YOU DO NOT BITE MOMMY."

He tried to kiss me while I was saying it, and because I was talking and not doing what he wanted me to do, he then planted a hand on my face.

The great part about this behavior is he does it to no one but me. Not Daddy. Not grandparents. Not playmates. Which I should probably thank my lucky stars for.

Oh no, I am the lucky one.

Usually the bite comes on the shoulder as I am picking him up to carry him away from some unsafe activity or trying to redirect a tantrum. But dude. On my thigh? It hurts there.

I am being consistent and redirecting his anger and giving him words for his frustration. But man, this sucks.

Baby2 would like to say hello

Well lookee, lookee. See that? Over there? The crazy pregnant woman with the huge grin on her face? That would be me.

Today's appointment with my perinatologist was absolutely fabulous. I have never walked out of that office with all good news, but today marked a first for me.

He said that everything looks great and my cervix looks wonderful and he does not anticipate any problems with this pregnancy. I will get the cerclage on Aug. 6 (like I wanted) when I am 15 weeks and it will be done as an outpatient procedure. I will need to take it easy and stay off my feet for the rest of that day and then, just like that, I can return to my normal life.

Wait, I'm sorry ... what did you just say? What about the bedrest? And the sitting down to shower? And the pelvic rest? And the fretting and frowning and worrying? Ummm, no. None of it. Am I dreaming?

He gave me to OK to travel to France when I am 22 weeks for the Rugby World Cup (of course, barring any unforseen issues). He said I would have zero restrictions, except for lifting all 25 pounds of Jack. That's the only no-no I will encounter.

This is like, wait for it ... A NORMAL PREGNANCY.

We also got an ultrasound today, which was awesome. Baby2 was flitting hither and yon in the recesses of my uterus, doing flips and waving at us and generally being a total wiggler. They could barely get an NT measurement, which ended up being perfectly awesome and normal at 1.1, thankyouverymuch.

We got a lovely picture of it waving at us and a heartbeat in the 180s.

All in all, a delightful morning. My surgery is on the books and now I spend the next three weeks lolling around waiting for it. Well, not really. He did give us the OK to go on vacation at the end of July/beginning of August, so we're planning a trip to Puerto Vallarta for our THIRD wedding anniversary. Holy hell, three years? How did that happen?

Anyway, introducing Baby2!

Turning the corner

It's Monday, which means it's time to blog. God, that is so pathetic that I could only muster one post a week recently.

But the sickness, it was kicking my ass. But now -- NOW -- I think I have turned the corner. My all-day nausea has abated to about an hour or two in the afternoons. It's now in the background, as opposed to being in the forefront. I'm 11 weeks today, so here's to hoping it's on its way out for good.

I have an appointment with my dildocam on Wednesday and a consult with my perinatalogist. I can't wait to see him because he already thinks we are the batshit craziest patient and spouse he's ever dealt with. We would try to trick him into giving us percentages and odds with my last pregnancy and he would just laugh at us when I would try to play "Let's Make a Deal" with priveleges like going out to dinner.

I can't wait to see the look on his face when I come in and tell HIM when I want to schedule the surgery, how much bedrest I think I should require and lay the big "So hey, how do you feel about me going to France when I am 22 weeks?" question on him.

See? We at least are funny. He has to love that we crack jokes during tense ultrasound moments and that I asked him if he was shooting a documentary about my cerclage. His name is Michael Moore. I bet that joke never gets old with him.

So anyway. We've had a busy few days. We went home to Milwaukee for the Fourth, then we went to The Police concert on Thursday, then we spent the weekend at a lakehouse in Wisconsin.



Do you know how much it sucks to not be able to waterski or tube because I am with child? Nine out of 10 pregnant women surveyed said that makes for a less-fun lake vacation. But I did swim and we took Jack to the beach and he loved it, so we did have a lot of fun. Except for the no air conditioning part. Oh my holy hell, it was 100 degrees and the hottest weekend of the year and we were a little warm.



And look at his little life jacket. I want to eat him he is so cute.



But overall, it was relaxing and fun and the fact I wasn't feeling like I might puke my shit at any moment was an added bonus.

He's starting to talk

In the last few weeks, Jack has suddenly become little person who can repeat words back to you. Not all the time, mind you, but when he feels like it. He'll also now walk up to you and just say words out of the blue, without prompting.

He can now tell you what sounds the dog, kitty, duck, birdie, cow, horse and tiger make. He also says almost all the animal names, although some are head-scratchers, like "Dey" for birdies. But hey, he's consistent about using so it counts as a word.

Other favorite words these days include Daddy, Mama, bear, ball, bath and the crowd-favorite belly. Which is accompanied by him lifting your shirt to inspect your belly. Which goes over well with people who don't really like their bellies exposed to the world. He had a great time lifting my nine-months-pregnant friend's shirt when she was here recently. He kept looking when we said "There's a baby in there," obviously, calling bullshit on us.

He can also now climb up the gate at the top of the steps. He can't get over it, but he hangs on to the top and starts walking up the fabric section with his feet. I can only hope with great fervor that he doesn't figure out to do this in his crib.

And for those following along at home, I am still sick as hell. Ten weeks and counting...