Two weeks to go (yikes!)

At six weeks left to go, I did a post on what thoughts had been running through my mind. With only two weeks left to go, here is an update.

1. My child will have the cutest bum on the block. Here are two pictures of the diapers BJ's mom (Nana) and I made this past weekend.

2. Grandma Farr would have loved those diapers.

3. I'm tired of being in labor. One of my pregnancy books described month nine as an entire month of labor, and in my experience, that is pretty accurate. I'll spare you any further detail.

4. Due to number 3, if this little boy pulls an Uncle Bro and comes two weeks late, he will be born grounded.

5. He's probably going to pull an Uncle Bro, isn't he?

6. The grandmothers are more anxious than BJ and I. When I see my mom calling, I now answer, "Hello. I'm not in labor. What's up with you?"

7. People who don't take advantage of all the free educational opportunities hospitals offer before giving birth are really missing out. In the past week, BJ and I finished our childbirth courses, I had an hour-long consultation with a lactation specialist, and we met with our pediatrician. I now know so much that I didn't know before. Of course, when you know nothing, you naturally have a lot to learn.

8. After the before-mentioned lactation consultation, I learned that babies spend a significant portion of each day eating. This means I will be spending a significant portion of each day being something akin to a soda fountain.

9. Gus's world is about to be turned upside down. He has started to sense that something is going on, so he is being really clingy. Since, as we all know, I am not even a little bit differentiated from this dog, my natural reaction is to be clingy in return. In other words, we're doing a lot of clinging here lately.

10. I'm going to sort of miss being pregnant. Don't be too shocked. I won't miss all the weird symptoms or the getting-fatter-by-the-day part. But I'll miss watching him move around and feeling him get the hiccups (which he does almost every night when I go to bed). I'll also miss our little games where I poke him to watch him move in response. He probably won't miss me poking him, though. I poke him a lot.

In conclusion and due to a request from one of my Fat Tuesday girls, here is a picture of the bump at 38 weeks. I am huge.

Childbirth Class, a.k.a. My Pathetic Attempt to Care for a Baby Doll

We had our final childbirth class Monday evening. This was the session where we were given life-size baby dolls and taught the basics of caring for an infant. Considering neither of us have ever even changed a diaper, this was a particularly enlightening evening.

In our class, BJ and I had an African-American little girl, so I immediately had to make the incredibly lame joke, "Do you have any questions for me, BJ?" Following the lame joke, we were taught how to change a diaper and change a onesie. It took me forever to change the diaper because I couldn't figure out exactly how high to place it on the baby dolls back, and I failed miserably at removing the onesie until BJ showed me how I was maneuvering around the arms completely wrong.

Next, we learned to swaddle. BJ did this part. His swaddle was absolute perfection. It was quickly executed, tight, neat looking, and all around wonderful. Of course, he's read up on swaddling and had slightly different opinions from the instructor on how to handle the arms, so he implemented his own technique. Regardless, it was the best swaddle in the class, and once again, I'm left very thankful to have such an efficient husband. It softens the edges on my stumbling attempt at life. (As a side note, how can I make it through college with a 4.0 and not be able to change a diaper on an inanimate object? I make no sense.)

Besides birth classes, we are also busy this week with a gospel meeting at church. Last night, one of the ladies at church came up to me to tell me something her 7-ish year old grandson had said. Apparently, I was walking across the parking lot to the church building when they arrived, and he said, "Grandma, BJ's girl has got something wrong with her belly." I don't know which is better: that I'm "BJ's girl" or that there is "something wrong" with my belly.

Cuteness Abounds

Last weekend, I went out shopping for a coming home outfit. I spent hours going through baby clothes in several department stores. I think I could look at little boy clothes for days on end and not get tired of it. Finally, I settled on this one:


Now, I feel, is an opportune time to look at the different levels of cuteness displayed in this ensamble.

First, we have the teddy-bear ears on the hoody. Teddy-bear are by definition cute.


Then we have the little footsies that are bear faces. Footsies are cute, and bear faces are cute. This makes bear-faced footsies very, very cute.


Next, there is the little bear embroidered on the jacket. It is like a stamp of cuteness.


And lastly, we have the onesie. Onesies are the ultimate baby clothing, so therefore, they are the ultimate in cute. This particular onesie adds a whole new dimension off cuteness to the overall look by putting the bears with mooses. Mooses are cute.


I've already got our little guy's bag packed and ready to go with his coming-home outfit in place along with a hat knitted by his Nana and some swaddles.

With less than a month left in the pregnancy, I'm starting to get so excited I'm restless. When I'm too high strung to go to sleep, I pull out this outfit from the diaper bag and stare at it. It doesn't really help me wind down and sleep, but that isn't the point. The point is that in a few weeks I'm going to have a son, and I will bundle his cuteness into this cute outfit and bring him home, and that will be a truly happy occassion.

Randomness: Catching Up with an Old Friend, Nesting, and My Fat-ness

One of my closest friends from college, Kayla, came down to Farmington this past weekend for a baby shower the church threw me Sunday afternoon. We had a wonderful time catching up and, of course, eating. That's what Fat Tuesday girls do. We talk and eat.


The shower was lovely, and the baby is now basically fully equipped.


I've been working on his area in our room for the past few weeks. We finally got his bedding totally finished.


This is the gorgeous rocking chair my parents got us from the Amish village near our home.


Here is a close up of the bedding. Of course, Mom made the quilt, and I made the bumper pads from quilt scraps.


There is a lot more to the baby's area, but I'm going to save those pictures until I finish putting up everything from this past shower.

As a side note, I am now officially 8 months pregnant according to my baby book. Although I haven't really posted the traditional 'belly pictures' this whole pregnancy, I thought I would throw one up now that I'm nearing the finish line. Mainly, I decided to do this because I am now looking comically large and I thought everyone might enjoy a good laugh. BJ literally giggles every time he looks at me. For those of you who are thinking, "I just can't imagine BJ giggling," he now giggles. Just trust me.

6 weeks to go

Throughout my elementary, junior high, and high school years, grades were always done in six week cycles. Considering my life basically revolved around my grades (I was, am, and ever shall be a nerd), I approached life in six-week segments. I guess that is why it seems like a big deal to me that I've reached the 6-weeks-to-go point of my pregnancy. There are a lot of thoughts circulating through my mind at this point, but here is a sampling, for better or worse:

-I'm going to worry a lot about this person for the rest of my life. If he has a slow morning with little movement, I start panicking and poking him until he wakes up and does some aerobics for me. If I worry this much now, what am I going to do when he goes to Kindergarten or his first field trip or summer camp or (oh, my soul) college!?!

-I couldn't possibly get any bigger. Surely not. It couldn't happen. Ever. Right?

-This is going to hurt. I mean, getting him from point A to point B is going to hurt. Big time. (I don't care what anyone says, this thought has to run through the mind of every pregnant woman at some point.)

-I'm tired of keeping his name a secret. I like his name and I dislike secrets. See how this is a problem?

-A mouse might send me into premature labor. No, really, it might. I saw a mouse in our kitchen (first one ever) Tuesday night. I had a massive panic attack and made BJ immediately run to the store and get a whole slew of mouse-killing products. In the mean time, I'm still panicking. Last night, I wash clothe fell off of the kitchen counter onto me foot. Immediately assuming it was a mouse, I royally freaked to the point that I actually had a contraction. Let me make this clear: A wash rag I confused for a mouse gave me a contraction.

-My ribs hurt. He ran out of room about three weeks ago, but he keeps growing.

-I love how joyful babies make people. I contacted a professor of mine from ACU this week to ask for a reference, and in his response email, he congratulated me on the baby and told me a little about the birth of his son. It was a sweet story that made me day. Related to this point, people keep grinning at my belly everywhere I go. I wish I had a hidden camera on me to capture all the goofy smiles I get.

-My brother is going to be an uncle. This could get interesting.

-I have to pee, again. You've got to be kidding me.

-The constant rib pain and bladder discomfort and shortness of breath is making it very had to censor myself. I keep saying what I'm thinking, which is never a good thing. Poor BJ. He had no idea how much I was holding back before.

-If I love this little boy this much now, what will it be like after he is born? I keep trying to picture it, but it is beyond me.

As more thoughts come, I'll try to keep you posted. Then, 18 years from now, I can show my son what I was thinking as I awaited his arrival. And he can say, "Wow, Mom, that must have been really humiliating for you."

The Great Baby-moon

(Disclaimer: If the photos and text are doing funky things with their alignment, please ignore. Blogger is being wierd about it. Or I'm being stupid. It is one of those things.)

BJ and I returned late Sunday evening from our "baby-moon" in Chicago. We had a truly wonderful time.

We dropped our dogs off at BJ's parents' home in Alton the previous Sunday evening and left early Monday morning on the Amtrak for Union Station. I am now a big fan a train travel. Basically, you get to sit back, relax, and read while someone else does the driving. As you can tell from the photo on the left, BJ has now corrupted me to such a point that I am actually reading his uber-nerdy fantasy books.

We stayed at the Whitehall Hotel. It is actually considered a historical landmark in Chicago. It is only a half of a block from Michigan Avenue and only two blocks from the Water Tower (and, more importantly, the Ghiradelli Store - yum!) Since it is a very old hotel, the rooms were really quiant. Being a lover of all things old, I adored it.

Monday afternoon, we went to Shedd Aquarium, which was really fun to go through. Then, we took a water taxi across the lake to Navy Pier for dinner. After an entire month of sweltering heat in Kentucky, we were really into the lake breeze and Chicago's lower-80s and upper-70s temps. This is us on the boat. Please ignore my wispies. My hair does funny thing in wind.

On Tuesday, we went to the Field Museum and the Art Institute. Here are some random pictures we took while walking to the places.

This is in front of the Art Institute.

On our last day in Chicago, we went to the Lincoln Park Zoo and the Conservatory.

Thursday morning, we headed back to Alton, and Friday, we went to Markle, Indiana for a baby shower with BJ's family. It was so nice seeing everyone.

And, of course, we got way too much cute stuff for the baby.

Overall, it was just a splendid week. I now feel ready to face the next seven weeks, which looks to include seven-ish more weeks of work, more intense rib pain and daily swelling of the feet, lots of organizing around the house trying to fit truck loads of baby stuff, unimaginable pain, and (wha-lah) a baby! I can do this. No really, I can.

She's an idiot, but she's a loveable idiot

We are often asked why we got a Great Dane. Considering they are giant, unintelligent, drooling oafs, I admit it is a little perplexing. But look at this:


How could you not fall in love with that face? Plus, it is a nice perk that I don't really have to bend over much to give a hug like this, because at 7 months pregnant, I can't bend very far.

The Approaching Baby-moon

BJ and I haven't taken a vacation for just the two of us since our honeymoon over four years ago. You might say we've been too busy moving all over the place to even think about vacationing. With just nine weeks left until two becomes three, we've decided that we should take a short vacation. On Monday morning, we are taking the Amrak to Chicago from Alton. The plan is to do a bunch of nerdy stuff, like leisurly stroll around all the great museums Chicago has to offer, and eat at some fun restaurants for three days. Then we'll head back to Alton and hit the road with BJ's parents to go to Indiana for a baby shower. It's going to be a busy but fun week. We are really looking forward to everything, and I'm just hoping I can keep up with our tentative plans considering I'm currently a seven-month pregnant, waddling blimp. We'll take pictures.

On a completely different subject, a few of the teens from our church youth group informed me that they would appreciate me mentioning them in some way on my blog, so here it goes. In no particular order, to Mark, Kate, Preston, Hannah, Sarah, Kristen, Kelsy, Morgan, Jordan, Tessa, and all the others who frequently come to our events and classes, you make Western Kentucky a more interesting place. Much love and thanks.

Good, Old-Fashioned Pierce Logic

About two months ago, my dad started complaining about a pain on his side. My mom, brother, and I all said, "You should go get that checked. It could be a hernia." My dad, being the beacon of logic and reason that he is, replied to each of us, "I don't want to go to the doctor. They might find something." So he didn't go to the doctor. After two months, we had all basically forgotten about this.

Last Tuesday evening, I got a call from my mother. Apparently, my dad was in excruciating pain, and they were thinking about going to the emergency room. They thought he might have appendicitis. Since I happen to be an expert at diagnosing via the Internet, I looked up his symptoms, decided that, yes, it could in fact be appendicitis, and told them to get on the road. This is how my family makes decisions. I know. We need therapy.

While they were on the hour-long drive to the emergency room, I set at home worrying. BJ was busy with church stuff that night, so I was left alone with my neurotic brain to contemplate all the horrible things besides appendicitis that it could be. After 20 anxiety filled minutes, I decided it was time to Google. I looked up every type of cancer or horrible disease that might effect that area. In a moment of frantic anxiety, I even clicked on a link for symptoms of cervical cancer before I remembered that Dad doesn't have one of those.

Finally, they arrived, saw a doctor, and found out that it was what we had told dad he might have two months ago: he had a hernia. The doctor sent him home with pain medication, orders to take it easy, and an appointment for a week later to prepare for surgery.

Flash forward to Friday. Dad seemed to be doing okay the whole day until about 5:00 when another rash of horrific pain started. My brother happened to be home, so he started questioning Dad on the details of his day. Slowly, tidbits of information about Dad's work day started flowing out, like how Dad had lifted three 5-gallon containers of laundry detergent. And five extremely heavy boxes of diapers. And a recliner. Mom and Bro thought it might be time to go to the emergency room again. Dad thought he just needed to "work it out." That's right. He needed to "work out" a hernia. Eventually, saner heads prevailed, and they went to the emergency room.

To make a long story short, it turned out he had a very serious hernia, one that had been allowed to exist for far too long, and so they did surgery Saturday evening. Recovery from this sort of surgery is excruciating, so Dad is in a lot of pain right now. Thankfully, the pain is keeping him from doing anything crazy, like lifting recliners. But I hate thinking about him being in pain. Despite his total lack of rationality, he is really quite lovable.

In all seriousness, do please say a prayer for his recovery. He is (obviously) not a man used to laying on his back, so this is difficult for him on multiple levels.

Texas pictures (finally)

As promised, and better late than never (right?), here are some pictures from my week in Texas.

When I arrived at my parent's house Saturday, the first thing I wanted to see was the baby quilt my mom had been slaving over the previous six weeks. It did not disappoint. In fact, it exceeded my expectations. I knew we had cute fabrics, but Mom did a truly beautiful job piecing them together and hand quilting them. It is a perfect quilt for a little boy. Here are some pictures.




Menard has had a lot of rain this summer, so my parent's yard looked gorgeous. I took a few pictures to show off my mom's caladiums, but this is only a small presentation. And just so you know, there is a purpose for all the scare crows. They are literally the only way Mom and Dad have found to keep the deer from eating the caladiums.

(front of house)

(east porch)

My brother drove me from DFW to Menard, so he was with us a couple of days. I made him take a picture with me. He whined.

Here is a really good picture of my parents. Seriously, don't I have cute parents?


The night before the baby shower, Mom and I frantically baked applesauce bread for some hostess gifts.

(Mom frantically baking.)

Since we were frantically baking, we didn't have time to do the pile of dishes we had created. So we made Dad do them.


Thursday was the baby shower. It honestly was one of the nicest showers I've ever been to. Everything was gorgeous, the food was delicious, and it was so nice seeing people I hadn't see in what seems like forever. Here is a picture of me with the hostesses from the shower.


My Fat Tuesday friend, Erin (left), got to come to the shower from San Antonio, and I had so much fun catching up with her. Theresa (right) was in town the whole week, so we had a great time seeing each other. Between her being an army wife and me being a preacher's wife, we never know when our paths will cross, so it is always a blessing when they do.


Finally, this is me with the plethora of baby stuff I got at the shower. Look at all those cute little blue things! Now, if I can only figure out a way to fit them all into my house.


I wish I had more pictures from the shower, but I was too busy opening presents to do much picture taking. I don't have any pictures of my aunts and cousins who came, so hopefully my mom will post some pictures on her blog soon (hint, hint). I also just realized that I don't have a picture of the beautiful rocking chair my parent's got me, but that will come soon. Hopefully, in the not too distant future, I'll be posting the baby's room/area. It is coming together so cutely!

P.S. Forgive me for saying the word "cute" too much, but being pregnant has turned me into a giant mush bag. It is embarrassing.

Just so everyone knows, I have not forgotten about the pictures from Texas. I've just been having some complications with the camera. I will try to get them up tonight or tomorrow morning. I hate complications.

Back from Texas

I made it back from a wonderful week in Texas Sunday afternoon. Typically, I would have posted sooner, but my parents stayed through Monday, and I spent yesterday playing catch-up with house work. I think life should resume at a more normal pace starting today.

I plan on posting pictures later of my week in Texas, but for now, here are a few of my favorite moments from the week:

1. Flying to Dallas. It is interesting being a pregnant lady in a place as public as an airport. I got a lot of grins and one lady even asked me when I am due.

2. Seeing Emerald and Lily. Emerald couldn't come to the baby shower that was later in the week due to a wedding, so she came Monday morning with her 10-month old daughter, Lily, and spent the entire day with us. We had so much fun playing with Lily, and Emerald, having gone through pregnancy so recently, was full of invaluable knowledge.

3. Dad's brisket and apple cake. Mom and Dad decided to make a feast for the night Emerald was down. These too particular items at the feast may have made my week.

4. Buying flannel fabrics for our clothe diapers. I've always planned on using clothe diapers, and I've now also decided to make most of them to save money. Mom and I had way to much fun picking out the fabrics at Hobby Lobby for them. This kid will be pooping in fashion.

5. Mom talking to my belly. Mom would get over my belly and say, "This is your grandma. Kick for me." And without fail, every time, he moved for her.

6. The baby shower. It was a beautiful party, and we received so many wonderful gifts to help us set up house. The best part, though, was seeing people I haven't seen in a long time. My Fat Tuesday buddy, Erin, was able to come up from San Antonio, and I had so much fun catching up with her. Theresa was one of the hostesses, and I was also able to spend time with her throughout the week. Also, most of my aunts and a few cousins made it. Since I live too far away for family reunions, I hadn't seen some of them in ages.

7. Going through all of the baby stuff again and again and again. I could look at those little clothes all day long.

8. Shopping for clothes for my little guy. We got two of the same outfit at the shower, so we exchanged one. It was the first time I had ever picked out clothes for my son. I had so much fun. And somehow, I don't have a clue how, I came out with five outfits instead of one.

9. The ride back with Mom and Dad. We took our time, mainly because I had to stop about every hour, but I had so much fun talking in the car and just spending time with them. Also, at the end of the day, we were able to compare who's feet had swollen the most. Being pregnant is so weird.

10. Getting my rocking chair and high chair. While I was at work on Monday, BJ, Mom, and Dad went to the Amish village north of Farmington and got the rocking chair and high chair we had been wanting for the baby. Dad had promised me an Amish rocking chair if I gave them a grandchild, so now you know the reason we got pregnant. And BJ and I loved the beautiful high chairs they had, so we used some of the money we had received at the Menard shower to by one.

As you can see, it was a wonderful week. Pictures will soon follow!

Four Years

Today is our four year wedding anniversary. Life is really busy this week, so our anniversary is in danger of being totally overlooked. But because it was such a beautiful day four years and because it's been such a blessed four years, and because last night our son kick me so hard while I was hugging BJ that he felt it on his own stomach, I can't let that happen. I don't have the time or energy to write a long sappy post about us, so I'm going to let a poet do it for me. Here is a poem that reminds me of you, BJ, and on the second to last line, replace "Carol" with your own name.

Neponset Circle
by Jack McCarthy

for my wife Carol

The Quincy Group liked to let Charlie drive
on their commitments. He was a careful driver
who stayed a mile or two under the speed limit,
and he liked to leave a little earlier
than other people would. But he never
missed a turn or had to ask for directions,
and he always got the group to the meeting on time.

Sometimes a newcomer would ask
why they had gone from Quincy to Brockton
by way of Neponset Circle—
there are back roads into Brockton, short cuts.
An old-timer would whisper, “Shhhh.
We know that there are quicker ways.
But Charlie likes to drive.
And he can get us anywhere in the world—
as long as he starts from Neponset Circle.”

Most of us see the world as spiderweb,
all sorts of intricate connections,
alternate routes. A good sense of direction
and a roadmap and we’ll always find our way.
Charlie saw the world as a bicycle tire,
spokes crossing each other here and there,
but all of them running straight
to and from one heart.

Over the years a lot of people got
too impatient to put up with Charlie’s ways—
he wouldn’t even take the Squantum Street cutoff,
they’d complain, and you could almost
see Neponset Circle from both ends.
Sometimes they’d maneuver themselves
into the front seat to make suggestions:
“Charlie, this right goes straight to Hancock Street.”

“Yup, I know,” he’d reply, and cruise right by
while the oldtimers puffed serenely in the back.
“Insane,” the dissidents called Charlie, or “anal,”
if they’d had Psych 101; “compulsive.” As though
we all weren’t. But he drove them crazy.
Eventually they’d take their own cars,
thank you, trust their own internal compasses.

And for awhile, they would look good.
They’d leave a little later and be
sipping coffee smugly when Charlie’s cadre
of oldtimers and newcomers sauntered in.
But sooner or later they’d get lost
and a commitment would go by the boards, unmet,
and if it was a prison or a hospital,
there’d be no meeting there at all that night

and that was serious. The oldtimers
knew that it would happen because all
the alternate routers had to go on
was their own sense of direction.
Charlie had Neponset Circle.
Carol, my love,
you’re my Neponset Circle.

Nesting, Artist Style

It is safe to say that as the third trimester is only a week away, my nesting instinct has fully set in. Mom is rapidly quilting, and I will be picking up the leftover scraps next week so that I can start making some of the accessory pieces. But until the sewing starts, I am working on art to hang around the crib. Since we are doing a dog theme, I've decided to do watercolor and ink paintings of two or three dogs. I'm hoping that they will be artworks that can grow with our son and be treasures later in life. I just completed the first painting. Keeping in mind that it will (hopefully) look better after being matted and framed, here's a look at the Great Dane I finished this weekend:

Unexpecteds

This Fourth of July weekend turned out to have a few twist and turns we weren't expecting. The plan for the weekend was to work around the house and make a quick trip to Target in Marion to register for baby items. Friday night and Saturday pretty much went according to plan. BJ set up the baby crib (which was super exciting), and we got registered at Target Saturday afternoon. However, when we returned, we got a call from BJ's family. His grandmother, who had been visiting his parents in Alton, was having discomfort in her chest and was in the hospital. Thankfully, all has gone very smoothly, and this morning she had a stint put in, but Sunday evening and Monday ended up being a little excursion for us. We decided to go see her on those days before the procedure was scheduled since we did not have to work. Although we were all worried, it was a blessing to get to see family on the 4th when we had expected to spend it alone. We were able to see most of the Gensic clan and spend some time in the hospital with BJ's grandmother. Now that everything has turned out well, we can simply be happy for the unexpected time to spend with family.

Also unexpected was a nice moment we had with the baby Sunday night. I have noticed for several days that I can now see the baby's movements. Unfortunately, everytime I'd tell BJ to watch because the baby was moving, he would get shy and stop moving. However, Sunday night before we went to sleep, he finally started moving for his dad, and once he got started, he was really going. BJ thought the movement would be slow and gentle. He was shocked to discover that our son is kicking and punching me in rapid, pretty powerful movements. Seriously, this kid can kick. And it is wonderful. He's been keeping me up at night with his aerobics, and I couldn't be happier. After all, what could possible be better than knowing you have a baby growing inside of you who is healthy enough to pack a punch?

We made it, sort of

BJ returned from his five days out of town late Sunday evening. I was happy, very, very happy, to see he come home.

I love both of my dogs, and I wouldn't give either one of them up for anything, but this past week was a learning experience for me and Zoe. BJ does the bulk of Zoe's care taking. I've spent most of her six months with us just playing, petting, and coddling her. It's been nice. But while BJ was gone, I actually had to take care of this very high maintenance dog. I am exhausted.

During the course of the five days without BJ, Zoe decided that she would no longer ever step foot in her kennel, which left me in a pickle when it was time to go to work. She was untrustworthy in the yard, untrustworthy in the house, and generally left me nervous. She ate an entire stick of butter, wrapper and all, and developed a bladder infection that caused her to urinated every 2 to 5 minutes. This also led to trips outside in the middle of the night and severe sleep deprivation. Oh, and she tore up one of her toys leaving copious amounts of stuffing all over me house. It made the vacuum groan, literally.

But somewhere along the way, something strange happened: We bonded. Between the bouts of frustration and anger, I realized how cute her stubborn and idiotic personality is, even if it is totally different from Sienna or Gus. And she slowly stopped causing quite so much mischief and started following me everywhere and laying on my feet whenever I was still. She is bony and heavy, but it was still kind of cute. After six months of BJ being the only thing standing between Zoe and utter chaos, I finally joined the barrier wall. I'm starting to think she is going to end up a good dog after all.

As for Gus, he set on the sidelines watching the shenanigans. I think he felt sorry for me. When she finally did calm down, he joined her on my feet. I don't know how they both fit, but they do.

Assumptions

Tonight, two of BJ's closest friends, Josh and Jeff, will be arriving at our house to pick BJ up. Early tomorrow, they will all leave for Michigan where they will be groomsment in Dave's wedding.

Josh, Jeff, and Dave were groomsmen in our wedding, and having not seen his closest friends in entirely too long, BJ is really looking forward to this road trip. It is sure to be full of adventure, laughter, and lots of beef jerky.

Although I am really excited for BJ, and I hope he has a wonderful week, I have learned to not casually mention it to people. Although people who know BJ don't think twice about it, if I tell anyone who doesn't know BJ that my husband is about to leave on a road trip with a bunch of buddies to go be groomsmen in a wedding, images of The Hangover immediately come to their mind, and suddenly I become the poor neglected wife left in Kentucky while my husband heads off to what is sure to be one giant, riotous bachelor party full of alcohol and strippers. It doesn't matter what I say, the expectation is that any wedding must be precluded with this bazaar tradition.

When did this become part of the process of two people committing their lives to one another? When did women's self-esteem become so low that they think they have to tolerate their fiance getting lap dances before he can fully commit to marriage?

For the record, BJ's bachelor party (which included these same guys who were his groomsmen) consisted of board games in Josh and Allie's apartment. And I happen to trust that BJ and his friends will not be participating in any antics this weekend that involve scantily clad women. How do I know this? Well, I don't know all the wives well, but I do know that Allie and I are scary, so that helps. But mainly, I know that they are good men, and that is what really matters.

On a side note, BJ is going to be gone for 5 days! If you don't remember how well I did with his absense the last time he left for five day, here is a reminder. I generally become a basket case. And this year I have obscene amounts of pregnancy hormones coursing through me that make me even crazier than my Pierce genes had already made me. This is officially dangerous.

Stretching the Limit

Yesterday, I wore a pair of my non-maternity jeans to work. For the past 6 to 8 weeks, I've been able to wear my non-maternity pants by looping a pony-tail holder through the buttonhole and around the button. This is an invaluable trick for pregnant ladies.

However, I fear the end is coming for this little trick. For the first time this pregnancy, I felt horribly uncomfortable in my non-maternity pants. This led to that practice I have so perfected over many years of being neurotic: a panic attack. I came home moaning to BJ, "I didn't think I could get any bigger than I was, but I'm bigger. I'm definitely bigger!" To which BJ replied, "You aren't getting fat. You are just getting more pregnant." I know. His logic is stunning. I need some stunning logic in my life.

But I have one other trick besides BJ's constant doses of logic to help me through my many I'm-getting-fat panic attacks. It's called ultrasound photos. This kid I'm carrying, he is cute. I mean really, really cute. And I know it is cheesy to say, but I'm enamored with him. While my neurotic nature can lead to illogical panic attacks, it can also lead to illogical love, and that is always a good thing.

More from Memorial Day

I know I'm running a little bit late, but here are some more pictures from my family's visit last weekend.

These first two pictures are of our picnic in the park. Anytime my parents are up here on days I have to work, they make picnics and take me out. It is wonderful.



This is a picture of Zoe doing what Zoe spent the entire weekend doing: Begging my mother for one more treat. My mom always comes prepared with a big stash of treats. Obviously, our dogs love her.


This is Zoe saying, "All I want or need in life is one more bacon strip. I promise to be a good girl if I can have just one more."

For the record, she wasn't a good girl before, during, or after acquiring that bacon strip. It's a Zoe thing.

This picture is me and Dad comparing bellies. I win all the belly contest these days.


Then these are just some nice family photos we took right before they left. I wasn't crying...yet.



Miraculously, I managed to talk Bro into letting me get a decent picture of him. This doesn't happen often, so I'm posting it on my blog just to prove that I do in fact have a nice-looking older brother with a super cool red beard. Though pictures are scarce, I really haven't been lying all of these years.


And lastly, we tried for a Gensic family portrait. These use to go pretty smoothly with Gus and Sienna, but now that Zoe is in the mix, things are a little more chaotic.

Oh well.