It's been swell, but the swelling's gone down.

It's the 18th of August. My due date. And as of now, I don't have anything to indicate that labor will be starting soon. As much as I desperately wanted this baby to come on the 18th, it's seeming less and less likely that will happen. I suppose there's not much I can do about it. He'll come when he's ready.

I've been reflecting a lot on this pregnancy. As it gets closer to baby's arrival, it becomes even more bittersweet. I've truly enjoyed being pregnant, and there's a large part of me that will really miss it. On the other hand, there's another part of me that will not be sad to say goodbye to pregnant life.

Things I will miss about being pregnant:

1. Feeling him move. It's a constant reminder that he's with me and he's doing okay. I love it.
2. Fetal hiccups. I adore feeling him hiccup. It's been my favorite experience during this whole pregnancy.
3. Feeling important. That sounds really silly and possibly narcissistic, but there's a sense of pride that accompanies waddling around with a big belly. People in public are generally more courteous, and with the exception of the occasional overly-creepy stranger, I enjoy talking with people about my pregnancy. Even if no one acknowledges me, simply knowing I have an entire person growing inside me makes me feel very important.
4. The excitement. There's so much to do and look for to. Registering for baby stuff! Deciding on decor for the nursery! Painting, decorating, assembling, and making the nursery feel like home! Even though it's stressful, it's also very fun.

This I will NOT miss about being pregnant:

1. Being treated like an invalid. Seriously, I am perfectly capable of carrying most things, reaching up, moving around, and doing most every other day-to-day activity. If I can't do something, I'll let you know.
2. Having to pee every 20 minutes. I really miss the feeling of a truly empty bladder. Even after going to the bathroom, I immediately feel like I have to go again. Honestly, I could probably just park it on the toilet and keep a constant stream going all day. I will not miss that, nor will I miss going through an entire roll of toilet paper in 24 hours.
3. The attention. I know I said in the "Will Miss" list that I like talking about my pregnancy, but there are also times I do NOT enjoy it. For example, I will not miss the constant "How are you feeling" questions that are almost always accompanied with a worried, nearly pained look, as if they expect my answer to be some sort of complaint about how miserable I am. It makes me feel almost guilty that I'm feeling good.
4. Nasal congestion. I haven't been able to breathe well practically since conception. I look forward to having less junk up there.
5. Feeling gross. I've gained more weight than I wanted to (totally my fault), and I feel physically repulsive most of the time. I realize losing this baby weight won't come easily, but I look forward to hopefully feeling more like my old self again.

So, I guess whether I'm ready or not, he could be here any day.

Journey to the center of the... Nursery.

Over the last week, we've had a contractor in to add a door to the room that will become Baby's nursery.

Basically, our house is a giant C shape, with our bedroom being on one end, and the nursery being on the opposite end. It made for a very long trek between rooms. So, we decided that we could add a door beside our washer and dryer to provide easier access to the nursery. I don't know any of the measurements of our house, nor have I ever designed any floor plans, but I've drawn this quick sketch to illustrate what we did. Okay, so maybe our house is actually more a of Q shape? A donut with a tumor? The C shape sounded good in my head, but once I drew it I realized it didn't accurately account for our bedroom and bathroom. So I've added them on in the drawing below, but they're not quite such tumor-like additions in our actual home.

Anyway, as you can tell from my highly detailed and accurate drawing, getting to the Nursery involved going from our bedroom, through the laundry area, through the living room, through the kitchen, through the dining room, down the hallway, past the spare bedroom, then finally into the Nursery. This path seemed like a couple of miles long, and I couldn't imagine us making that trek multiple times in the night when we had a baby in the room, constantly waking and crying and doing whatever it is babies do that makes parents feel like zombies each morning.

From this equally accurate drawing, you can see that we installed a door in the laundry area, providing a far easier entrance to the nursery. Now we can hop out of bed, pass the washer and dryer, and immediately find ourselves in the nursery. So much better, right?

While installing the door, our contractor also moved the plumbing (so we could stack the washer and dryer and make room for the door) and also installed a ceiling fan in the nursery (where we previously had no overhead lighting). Before the hole for the door had been cut in the wall, our contractor had to make numerous trips around the circle/C/Q/donut to get from the laundry area to the nursery. He remarked that he fully understood why we wanted the door and agreed that it was a wise choice!

[In case you're wondering why we didn't just move into the spare bedroom and sleep right next to the nursery, here's your answer: Yes, it would have been less costly, and getting from the spare bedroom to the nursery is very easy. However, sleeping in the spare bedroom would have meant that, while we were right next to the nursery, we had to make the exact same, lengthy trip around the house to access the door to the backyard to let Mona out (see the door right next to the bathroom in my drawings?). That wasn't any less annoying for us.]

Now that's finally done, and all that's left is to clean up the dust left from the construction job and paint the nursery.

Oh, yes, and also assemble the crib. And put furniture in the nursery. And decorate it. And organize the spare bedroom and dining room. And clean the kitchen. And tidy up the living room. And clean our bedroom and make room for the bassinet. And clean the bathroom. And dust everywhere. And vacuum. And get a car seat. And bring the rest of the baby stuff over from my parents' house. All in the next six weeks.

...And have a baby.

Why I don't believe your gluten-free diet cured you.

This whole gluten-free fad is really wearing on my nerves. With the exception of those who have medically diagnosed celiac disease, I really believe peoples' so-called "gluten sensitivities" are a bunch of bull.

"But I cut out all gluten from my diet and I feel 200% better!" people claim. "If I'm not allergic to it, then why do I feel so much better without it?" they ask.

First of all, let's just be clear on what gluten even is. Gluten refers to certain proteins in the certain grains (especially wheat). Glutens are what give bread dough its elastic texture. When people with celiac disease eat foods containing these proteins, in immune response is triggered in the intestines, which can cause inflammation that leads to malabsorption of nutrients. People with celiac disease can suffer from weight loss, diarrhea, and bloating. It can be quite serious and is uncurable. It is diagnosed by blood tests or intestinal biopsy, and can only be managed by a gluten-free diet and treatment of symptoms as needed.

So, why are all these people WITHOUT celiac disease diagnosing themselves with gluten sensitivities? Usually this self-diagnosis comes after eliminating gluten from their diets, and they feel so much better that they just KNOW it was the gluten that was the issue.

But here's my issue... Practically everything delicious (deliciously unhealthy!) in it has gluten. Going gluten-free means no donuts, no cake, no cookies, no pizza dough, no pasta, no crackers. It also means you have to be very selective about things like bouillon cubes, candy, potato chips, French fries, rice mixes, lunch meat, many sauces and gravies, and even soy sauce. So typically a gluten-free lifestyle means the dieter is limited to lean meats, fresh fruits and vegetables, and occasional healthier protein and carb alternatives like gluten-free pasta, nuts, and such.

You'll notice that all those "bad" gluten-filled foods I mentioned are plenty unhealthy, regardless of their gluten content. In cutting those gluten-filled foods, you're almost always cutting lots of saturated and trans fats, sodium, artificial flavors and colorings, preservatives, and so on as well. There is plenty of scientific evidence showing how all of those things can be harmful... They can make you feel tired, gain weight, cause high cholesterol, etc.

In a nutshell, gluten-free eating is simply clean eating. Low carbs, fresh produce, and healthy proteins. Wouldn't you think anyone eating a a low carb, fresh produce, healthy protein diet would notice a difference in their energy level and overall health? Of course they would! Regardless of the gluten, a person eating a healthy, clean diet of minimally-processed foods is without a doubt going to be healthier than a person eating nothing but McDonald's.

So after cutting out all those unhealthy foods, I just beg you to stop and think... Yes, I cut out gluten. Eliminating gluten COULD be what makes me feel better. But it could also just as easily (and probably more likely) be the fact that I've significantly cut down on carbs, bad fats, and other unnecessary ingredients. Am I happy for you that you're feeling better? Absolutely! I have tremendous admiration anyone who has the willpower to avoid delicous fried carbs! If a healthier diet makes you feel better, I am so proud of you. I would just really rather say you're feeling better because you're eating healthier instead of blaming gluten because that's the trendy thing to do.

Baby steps.

While we've always known we'd have children eventually, we truly enjoyed our first four years alone, and I'm grateful that we've waited until now to have a baby. Despite certain people who have tried to rush us or make us feel guilty for "taking so long", I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. It's been a lot of fun being just the two of us. I think it was important for us to get to know each other first before we attempted to get to know a new baby. We've been together over 10 years, but living together is a completely different ball game from simply dating. Blending the living habits of two very different people takes time. To make matters worse, one of those people is moody and nitpicky (SPOILER ALERT: It's me.). However, I think we've done well, in large part due to Brandan's ceaseless patience and understanding. We still struggle with dirty clothes lying on the floor instead of in the hamper, or dirty dishes on the counter instead of in the dishwasher, but in general I think we've got it down pretty well.

I think it was also important for us to get to know each other on a more personal level. Again, dating is great, but there are some things that just don't come up until you're with that person 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Little opinions on topics like having pets, or what kind of house you want to live in, whether you should pay for repairs on an older car vs. buying a new one, or whether It is an appropriate movie for a 5-year-old. I mean, these are things that get brought up to a degree while dating, but once the idea of marriage is brought into the picture, these types of opinions become far more worthy of debate. The same idea applies to in-laws. Learning their ways takes time, and as our families are about as polar opposite as they can be, I'm glad to have taken our time getting to know each others' parents before we gave them grandchildren.

Oh, and remember how I warned you about my moodiness? Yeah, I'm moody. It's something I really hate about myself, and I'd give anything to be as laid back and patient as my husband. But one added benefit to our time alone was learning how to handle me. That is, Brandan learning how to handle me - how to tolerate my ups and downs, how to handle by meltdowns, and how to walk on eggshells. I've been transparent with him from the very beginning about myself, and he's known full well that I am not without baggage. But he has shown, day after day after day, that he loves me and he's willing to put up with my emotional shenanigans because (for some crazy reason) he thinks I'm worth it. Likewise, I've learned over time that, as skeptical as I've been that anyone would want to spend their life with me, he's really in this for a long haul, come what may. And I'm always learning how to handle me as well. :)

 In addition to learning how to live with each other, we've also always enjoyed the freedom of doing whatever we wanted whenever we wanted. We like being able to go out somewhere at that drop of a hat. Sometimes at the last minute we decide we'd rather go out to dinner. Or we remembered a new movie we'd been interested in jut came out, and figure we might as well go to the theater. Or we both happen to be off work and decide to spend the day in Indy, stopping at our favorite shoppings places and grabbing Pancheros for dinner. Just the other day, we were sitting around watching TV, and came to the conclusion at 7:30pm that we needed sno-cones. So we hopped in the car and drove to Sno-Castle. Because we had nothing better to do, so why not? We also greatly enjoy being lazy and spending an entire evening watching movies on the couch. And we enjoy sleeping in.

I'd be a fool if I said I there wasn't a part of me that was sad at the thought that we'll be leaving all that behind. We probably won't be able to go get sno-cones any time we feel like it. Taking weekend trips will require significantly more planning, and I imagine we'll frequently decide having Hamburger Helper for dinner sounds better than hassling with packing up a bunch of baby stuff to go out to Applebee's. When I think of the spontaneous luxuries we've enjoyed, I'm saddened to think of it going away. Will we remember how to have fun? Will we get to spend time alone together? Will we still be able to go out and enjoy a Strawberry Daiquiri & Silver Fox flavored sno-cone? We've gotten spoiled, and the thought of losing that is honestly a little scary. Selfishly, I want a baby, but I also want to live the life I'm used to. It's impossible, I know.

I'm determined not to let parenthood cut us off completely from the outside world, and plenty of parents manage to maintain healthy social lives. We know several couples with children close to our own age, and they go out to dinner from time to time or find a sitter so they can go see a movie. We're still able to hang out with them - sometimes they bring the kid(s) along, and sometimes they come along. So it's totally doable. I've seen it happen.

But I also know that raising a baby keeps your hands full, and it'll be something we have to work on one tiny, tiny step at a time. I hate to admit it, but I'm not what one would call and easily adaptable person. I am easily overwhelmed. I struggle taking on new challenges/roles. I need to take baby steps. Maybe that's part of the reason why I enjoyed being "newlyweds" for these first four years. If I don't warm up slowly, I sometimes break down. It's happened numerous times in the past - I get overloaded with laundry, or dishes, or housework in general. I get overwhelmed by all the attention our 50 year old house needs. I work too many hours in a week on too little sleep and I come home with too many bills to pay and I lose it.

So while I'm sure I can do this--I can be a mother and still have a life--I'm also trying to be realistic and know that I'm the kind of person who will be better off focusing solely on motherhood first, and then integrating some of our "old life" back into this new one. I want to take this one baby step at a time.

Step 1: Keep a baby fed with minimal crying.
Step 2: Keep a baby fed with minimal crying, and get a load of laundry done.
Step 3: Keep a baby fed with minimal crying while doing laundry and dishes, then go out for sno-cones.

That's doable, right?

The year of major changes.

As we journey along in our fifth year of marriage, we have experienced quite a few changes. We've lived together in three different places, but are now settled in nicely to the home we bought three years ago. We adopted a wonderful little shelter dog who has changed my world tremendously (she deserves more in another post, someday), acquired and lost other pets, started jobs, lost jobs, lost family members, and spent more money than I'd prefer on various unavoidable home improvements. All in all, I feel like we've done well in our time so far, and I feel like the path we're on is a good one.

Despite all the obstacles we've faced, the joys we've experienced, and losses we've suffered, we've honestly been relatively lucky that nothing has shaken our world too mightily. But that will all be changing here shortly. Roughly 13 weeks from now we'll be welcoming a tiny little baby into our lives. Being so thrilled and equally terrified at the same time is a new sensation for me, but we feel about as ready as is possible for two first-time parents who can only guess at what's in store for us. I think this is the cue for seasoned parents to snigger and roll their eyes at the idea that new parents could ever be "ready".

Seriously, how can a person have this many emotions at once? Excitement, panic, happiness, sadness, elation, fear, confidence, insecurity, joy, anxiety. My mind is constantly reeling. I can't wait for this little baby to get here. But wait, there's so many things we still needed to do! When will we ever get to them now? When will we be able to afford new gutters? What about new siding? When will we watch all those TV series we wanted to watch on Netflix? Will I get to have more pet rats someday? Will I ever learn to play guitar? What about having a house with a garage?

Okay, so we're far from ready. But at the same time, we're ready. Is there any way that makes sense? I think so. We're ready in the sense that we both want this, with every fiber of our being. We both want to be parents. We want to expand our family. We know babies bring things like sleepless nights, extra laundry, and endless dirty diapers. We also know babies bring incredible joy and meaning to your life. And we're ready for that. Well, as ready as we'll ever be. We've come out for the better from all the changes in our life so far, and I'm confident this change will be just as beneficial.

The lilacs.

Along the back edge of our property is a wall of bushy, overgrown lilacs.  They're so high they're reaching into the power lines, and they fall over into the easement between our property and the neighbor's behind us.  Like everything else on our property, they've been let go for ages and are unruly and intimidating.  And while we're putting off a majority of the yard work for the fall, the lilacs needed to be trimmed to make way for a fence.  So I mentioned to my mom that I needed to trim the lilacs, and we ignorantly thought we could tackle them ourselves.

A look at the lilacs from the back corner of our house.  That's my mom.  She's 5' 2".

So this evening my parents came over to trim the lilacs with me.  My dad brought lots of heavy equipment that I thought was surely overkill.  I mean, they were just lilacs, right?  Wrong.  I attempted to use some loppers to cut off an unruly branch and the lilacs laughed at me.  It quickly turned into a full-on assault on those lilacs, with my dad lopping and hacking away and not just branches but practically whole trees.  My mother and I stayed busy clearing away the giant limbs and piling them in the back yard.  And those branches just kept coming and coming.

My dad, making progress on that jungle of branches.

It was ridiculously hot, sweaty, miserable work.  My poor dad got the worst of it, stuck underneath the lilacs, hacking away at the neverending limbs.  At one point, my neighbor brought my dad a much-needed beer (have I mentioned that so far, the neighbors I've met have been awesome?).  All in all, we spent about two hours taming those beastly lilacs.  Amazingly, my dad survived without being swallowed whole by all the invasive mulberry branches trying to take over the lilacs.  My dad was drenched in sweat, I'm now covered in tumor-like mosquito bites, and my mother... well, my mother walked away just as cute and clean as when she'd started.

But look, room for a fence!

Hooray, even more spots where we'll have to try to grow grass...

And look here's the mess we left behind:

So many branches!  And look, there's corn growing in the flower box!

See my dad back there? 

Tomorrow (Friday) the posts for the fence will be set, and by Monday the rest of the fence will be finished.  Later this fall we'll go back and clean up the lilacs more--trim the tops, the front, and clean out around them.  But for now we've all had enough lilacs to last for a while.

Update: Turns out, there was some horribly inconspicuous poison ivy growing in the far left lilac bush. It was only discovered after my mother returned home and was overcome with a miserable, itchy rash all over. Brandan also experienced the misery that is poison ivy the next summer. I've since cut down and hopefully killed all remaining traces of said poison ivy, although I keep a close eye on the lilacs for any sign of its return.

A perfectly round bite.

This is a post from my other blog. In an effort to keep all stories in one place, I'm copying it here.

A few weeks ago, I learned that one of my husband's cousin was moving and getting rid of her fish, a piranha.  She told me I could have the tank, and I agreed to come catch her piranha and pick up the tank.  I'd been wanting to upgrade the current 20 gallon tank I had, so I was thrilled at the thought of a free aquarium!  I knew she was not very dedicated to this tank, but little did I know what I was in for...

I prepared myself for a decent sized piranha in a 55 gallon tank like she'd told me.  Knowing it wouldn't be an easy task to move, I recruited my sister to help me.  I borrowed the heavy-duty gravel vacuum/siphon from the pet store I work at, along with some buckets, fish bags, and nets.  Once we walked in the door, I immediately realized the tank was not a 55 gallon at all, but a 30 gallon cube in horrendous condition.  And hiding in a corner behind a tacky decoration was a 6-7" red bellied piranha, named Jaws (original, I know).

We doubled up (or was it tripled?) some good sized fish bags and filled it with water.  My sister held the bags as I netted Jaws.  No problem.  He didn't swim away, so it was a pretty easy scoop.  He flopped around a bit in the net as I raised him out of the tank toward the bags.  I carefully dropped him into the waiting bags, and for a brief moment, all was well.  Hooray, we'd done it!  We'd netted and bagged a supposedly ferocious carnivorous fish!  As I reached around to get the rubberbands to close the bags, we sighed with relief that all had gone smoothly.

HA!

The next thing we know, water started gushing of holes on both sides of the bag.  My sister stood there, dumbstruck, as water sprayed everywhere in surprising large amounts, while Jaws could be seen/heard thrashing around inside the bag.  After a moment of total paralytic shock, my sister jumped to action and dumped the bag back into the aquarium.  We were soaked, the carpet was soaked, and those reinforced plastic fish bags were covered in perfectly round, nickel-sized holes.  My husband's cousin, who had been watching from a distance on the couch, found the entire event hilarious, although she brought us towels to help soak up the mess.

After regaining our composure, we came up with a different strategy, and opted to put Jaws in a large plastic bucket.  We used a second bucket turned upside down as a lid.  Never before have I driven as carefully as I did while driving Jaws to the pet store, my sister riding shotgun and holding his bucket in between her feet.  We made it successfully to the pet store, where we released Jaws into a tank of his own.

There is now a special note on Jaws' tank at the pet store that says, "Do NOT bag this fish!  Send home in a bucket."  I decided it was better to warn everyone, although the idea of letting them find out about the bags on their own was tempting.