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.

Baby, baby, baby

I'll let BJ share the big news:


Thursday night, my parents and brother arrived from Texas. Friday, I had the big ultrasound (with BJ and my mom in the room!) and we found out that the little baby that has been kicking me a lot these days is all boy. He moved around for us, waved, flipped, sucked his thumb, yawned, and even went spread-eagle so that we are absolutely certain he is a boy. He measured beautifully on all counts. While I've always thought ultrasound photos were kind of creepy, my son happens to have absolutely adorable ultrasound photos. Shocker, huh?

Saturday morning, Mom and I, with Dad and Bro tagging along, went fabric shopping for the crib quilt.


It took lots of discussion...


and studying...



and examining of fabrics...


but eventually, we came home with the fabric for an adorable, dog-themed crib set:


And speaking of dogs, guess who had a wonderful weekend with the family in town.


This guy did.

Musings on approaching parenthood

Saturday evening, BJ and I went to a wedding at our church. It was a huge wedding, and our building couldn't fit everybody, so BJ and I ended up sitting in the nursery and watching the wedding through a window into the auditorium.

About halfway through the ceremony, a grandfather brought in his 3 month-old granddaughter to changer her diaper. While he worked in the corner, I leaned over to BJ to make this inquiry: "Have you ever changed a diaper?" Unsurprisingly, BJ answered, "Nope, never," to which I had to respond, "Me neither."

Now, we're going to be parents in approximately four and a half months. Of course, there are lots of people at church who would be happy to let us practice changing a diaper with their babies, but I have no intention of learning that skill until I have to, and as far as I'm concerned, I don't have to until around October 20th. If I do learn before then, I would like to learn with something poop-free, like a baby doll or a football. So basically, Baby Gensic's life is going to be one giant experiment in parenting. It should make for some interesting blogging material when the time comes.

The U.S. Census survey just put out a list of the ten worst-paying college degrees. Art and Theology were both on there. BJ and I are so screwed.

Nightly Excursions

As a pregnant woman, I get up at least twice a night for bathroom trips. Typically, these excursions take place at 2:00 am and 4:00 am. Apparently, my bladder is on a very strict schedule. Recently, I've had a few more obstacles than usual.

First off, there is Gus. Gus is a very hot-natured dog (who wouldn't be with all that fur?). In the winter, this doesn't pose a problem. He sleeps in carpeted areas of the house like a normal dog. But the second the temperature starts rising above freezing, Gus starts spending his time on the coolest surface in the house: our tile floor in the bathroom. And to make it even cooler, he cuddles up around the coolest object in our house: our porcelain toilet. Let me give you a visual:


So for the past couple of months, my groggy self has had a challenge using the bathroom. It takes a careful sideways maneuvering that is too complicated to go into right now.

My other obstacle comes upon my return to bed. I'm not sure why, but for the past few weeks, BJ has started rolling over to my side of the bed anytime I get up. He's asleep, of course, so he has no idea he's doing it, but he literally leaves me about a foot of bed space. Although I hate disturbing his sleep, I have to ask him to move over. Last night, this is how that went:

Me: BJ, sweety, I need you to move over. You're on my side of the bed.
BJ: Hmm. *several sleepy groans* The bed, what?
Me: I need you to move over a little bit. I don't have any room.
BJ (in a tone of sudden enlightenment): Oh, the couch.

At this point he turned over and back unto his side of the bed. I have no idea what the couch thing was about, but it made perfect sense to him, and I did finally get my side of the bed back.

So these are the adventures of a pregnant lady whose bladder is now apparently the size of a peanut. In our house, at least, it is an adventure.

Is it silly that after nearly four years of marriage, I still get excited about weekday lunch dates with my husband? A hot plate of Chinese food and good company are pretty much the only things that can make Mondays bearable.

In other exciting news, my parents are coming up for Memorial Day! I haven't seen them since Christmas, and a lot has happened since then. Primarily, their daughter looks like she's been eating too much Ben and Jerry's every night for the past four months. But it isn't Ben and Jerry's. Its a baby.

These are things to be smiled about.

Our own shag rug

As dogs age, they get calmer. With Labs like Sienna, this is a phenomenon for which you eagerly await. Since BJ grew up with Labs, he (and therefore I) assumed that most dogs were on a similar life path consisting of two to three years of high energy followed by the golden years of being a good, calm dog. This assumption is what has made Gus seem like such an anomoly. He's been a good ole' calm dog since we acquired him at six weeks old. During Gus's first year with us, we used to muse over what kind of dog he would grow to be. Our running joke was that as lazy as he was at only a few months old, he would probably be comatose by the time he reached three. Turns out, our joke was somewhat prophetic.

This January, Gus turned three years old. Since then, he hasn't really moved. You may have noticed that all the pictures I've posted of him lately have been him laying down. That is because he rarely, and I mean rarely, ever stands up. He's a good big brother, and he plays with Zoe, but he doesn't actually stand to do it. He just lays down and swats at her as she runs in circles around him. We had two extra dogs in the house this weekend (BJ's parents visited). The other dogs had a good time running in the yard, and Zoe and Buster wrestled around the house. Gus did none of this. I think he saw Buster's visit as a welcome vacation from entertaining Zoe. Apparently the whole laying and swating thing can get exhausting.

I would worry about this incredible onset of lethargy, but I'm pretty sure it is just Gus. You may remember that BJ and I spent a ridiculous amount of money at the vet trying to figure out Gus when he was about six months old, and the eventual diagnosis was that he was just weird and a little stupid. Even though dogs do change a lot in their first three years of life, I'm pretty sure Gus has not changed on those particular facets of his personality.

Warning: This post gets messy

Zoe has a problem. You see, she produces enough slobber for about 6 very large dogs. Basically, she has no control over whatever makes saliva, so I spend a lot of time going around cleaning up her slobber. I prefer cleaning Gus's hair. Anyways, the drooling gets particularly out of control during her's and BJ's feeding ritual. In his never-ending attempt to turn this bad dog into a good dog, BJ makes Zoe lay down before she can have her breakfast, lunch, or dinner. For a food-obsessed dog like Zoe, this is the very definition of torture, and as she waits for the go-ahead from the ultimate alpha-dog, BJ, she can't help but drool gallons. I, of course, find the whole torturing and dominance battle entertaining. Did I mention that I have no life.

Anyways, her is a picture of Zoe in those moments of torment while the food is right in front of her, yet so very far away.


Let's get a closer look at that saliva action.


Sometimes it bubbles. Is that too much information?


Considering I now have at least three blog post in which we are tormenting Zoe, I think I should probably take a break from Zoe posts before PETA finds me. Which of course means, (since, as I mentioned earlier, I have no life) my next post will most likely be concerning Gus.

Tony has always been very reliable. I know that he will be at the back door every morning when I let Gus out, and I know that he'll be mewing at the front door everyday when I get home from work.

Unfortunately, for the past week, he hasn't been at either place. We found out from our neighbor that Tony was killed by a car last week.

It feels weird not having Tony around. I walked to the cat food section the other day by habit only to remember I don't need cat food anymore.

Of course, Tony was the type of pet who would not have approved of me being all sappy upon his passing. He was a really horrible cat, and he was proud of that. Zoe has scars to prove that he was tougher than dogs. He was also smarter than dogs, but then again, Gus and Zoe are idiots, so the competition wasn't very steep in our house.

The oddest thing about his passing is that we no longer have Sienna or Tony, the pets we started our marriage with. Right as we are starting a new phase in life, we've lost one of the main symbols in my mind of our first years together.

And now we are left with just Gus and Zoe. Gus, the lovable mutt who is pretty much just fluff and goodness, and Zoe, the Great Dane who daily spreads cheer and saliva, but mostly saliva. Our child is coming into a interesting family, and now that Tony has gone to that place in the sky where there is an endless supply of tuna, he or she is probably coming into a safer family as well.

A Moment of Cheese

This morning, BJ and I heard our baby's heartbeat. It was without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. Grinning, our doctor said, "That just sounds so good, you don't ever want to stop listening." Exactly.

Frustration Abounds

Occasionally, by brother's incredible absent-mindedness can become very troublesome to me. This week, it has truly been a thorn in my side.

I've been having one of those weeks where I just need to talk with my brother. I'm used to having pretty much unlimited access to him, so I typically talk to him on the phone several times a day. I know. It seems a bit excessive, but that's how we roll. Anyways, last weekend, he went home for Easter, and if you know me brother, you know that he never goes home without forgetting something (this is a quirk I happen to share). So this time, he forgot his phone charger. Usually, he would have a back-up with his car phone charger, but guess what? He forgot that one in Menard several months ago and has yet to remember it.

Now, living in these modern times, we have other back-up plans. My family uses Skype for special occasions, such as birthdays, so we decided to get on Skype last night. Immediately after logging on, I knew something was wrong. While he could hear me just fine, all I could catch was a syllable here and there from him. After both fiddling with our computers for 10 to 15 minutes, he typed this in the IM section: "I dropped some books on my web cam earlier." First off, yeah, that could be the problem. Secondly, who breaks their webcam by dropping books on it? Seriously, who does that?

So after three days of not really talking, I'm going through some serious withdrawals. Hopefully, his charger comes in the mail today, because I have a whole slew of random, meaningless, and border-line inappropriate things to say, and he is pretty much the only person willing to listen to me. Yes, let us all hope that charger comes in today.

Zoe and the Mystery of Passing Gas

Zoe is an idiot of a dog. She is seriously just not smart.

Not long after we got Zoe, we discovered just how stupid she can be in a rather odd way. We had known for a while that she was scared of her own gas. Every time she had a little toot, she would start running in circles sniffing her rear end and generally freaking out. But what really made us aware of her stupidity happened one day while playing Wii. BJ was having a bad game of golf, and after a particularly disappointing round, he unthinkingly made a tooting-type sound with his mouth. Immediately, Zoe started doing exactly what she would do when she herself passed gas. Since she is a dog, I can't pretend to know the motivation behind the things she does, but it was truly as if she couldn't figure out if her own body had made that sound and if so, why it would do such a thing.

After months of this, BJ and I still get a kick out of making the occasional toot sound and watching her panic and look at her own rear. Since we enjoy it so much, we thought you might also enjoy it. Here is a little video we made tonight of Zoe in a panicked state of confusion. You can ignore that last 10 seconds or so - I rarely use my camera for recording video, so I forgot how to stop. And of course, this computer doesn't have the right software for editing. But you should still get the general jest. As I said before, Zoe is an idiot.

Ten Weeks In

I hit 10 weeks in my pregnancy this week. Not too far along, but nearing the end of the first trimester. The nausea is easing, although it is still very present. I am now waking up two to three times a night for bathroom runs, which is seriously putting a hitch in my sleep cycle, but it is becoming a common part of life.

Last night at church, a group of ladies pointed out that they can now see my baby bump. This made me laugh because the bump is getting ridiculously noticeable. I've known women who didn't 'look' pregnant until several months into their pregnancy. I'm not one of those woman. We had a candle lit the other night, and I just about freaked out when I saw my shadow on the wall. I can't even recognize it anymore.

Honestly, this is all that has been gong on in my life the past few weeks. Pregnancy seems to take over pretty much everything. I can't do much besides being pregnant because I never feel good. So I'm basically sitting around while God is growing a baby inside of me. It is busy work. I may not look busy when I'm laying around all day moaning over my nausea, but believe me, I'm busy.

Checking the Vital Signs

When I was about 10 years old, I came down with a case of the flu. I was out of school for several days, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Unfortunately, my dad is a chronic worrier, so every time I got sick with anything was a time to panic.

I'll never forget what happened one of the nights I was sick during this spell. I was laying on the couch sleeping when suddenly the feeling of someone else being present woke me up. As my eyes opened, I saw Dad leaning over my chest checking to see if I was breathing. I whispered, "Dad, what are you doing?", and he jumped about a mile high. He had been so busy concentrating on my vital signs, he was more than I little shocked to find me awake.

Over the years, this story has provided a lot of laughs for my family. It is the perfect example of the neurosis so pervasive on my dad's side of the family, a neurosis I've inherited in fine form. But Monday, the story became a little more than a joke to me. Monday was our first ultra sound, and for the first time, I saw our baby's heart beating. It was pounding away at an astonishing 173 beats a minute. The pictures we brought home are fairly unimpressive. He or she is currently a blob with other smaller blods connected to it that will one day be arms and legs. But the image of the heart beating, now that was impressive.

As an added not of interest, when I told my dad that the heart is beating at 173 beats a minute, he immediately panicked and asked if that is normal and okay. He still hasn't lost his touch.

What has really been going on the past month

On Valentine's Day, this happened:


In the following week, I was an emotional wreck, so happy to be pregnant but neurotically nervous about everything. BJ was also very happy. But then, he realized that he would need to pay for the child's college tuition, which sent him into a rash of worrying.

The next week, we both settled down a bit, getting a little more used to the idea of becoming parents. At this points, bets started about the gender of the baby. My family was the only people who knew at this point, so it went something like this: I think its a boy, BJ thinks its a girl, Mom agrees with me that it is a boy, Dad is waiting to make a call until he can think of a way to word it so that he will be right either way, and Bro thinks it is left-handed. Don't ask.

The next week was the week BJ's parents were coming down, so we were (finally) going to get to tell them. We bought the following bibs to break the good news:


To clarify, the bib on the left says, "Don't look at me, that smell is coming from grandpa!", and the bib on the right says, "What happens at grandma's stays at grandma's!"

Once we broke the news to BJ's family, I got to tell my friends, and it was absolutely wonderful! They all squealed exactly like I was hoping they would. I have the best girlfriends ever!

And as for this week, the nausea has set in, and it has set in good. All food that is not totally bland sounds disgusting. Cheese is the worst. Especially melty cheese. There is a whole other slew of symptoms going on, but I'll spare you the details.

So there is a whirl-wind tour of life over the past month. I don't know what else to say except that we're happy.

I won.

A few weeks ago, you might remember that I got slaughtered in a contest with my brother to predict Oscar nominations. I would just like to announce that in last night's competition to predict the winners, I came back with a bang. I beat him by five! And I feel it is only fair to rub it in. Trust me, he did it to me. So, ha, Bro! You lost!

That felt good.

Confessions of my Weirdness

I have an obsessive personality. When something clicks, I can't stop doing it. For example, if an art project clicks, I'll sit at my desk for hours on end for days on end working on whatever it is I'm doing. Or last summer, I got on a hot tea kick, so I drank four to five cups of hot tea a day. During December of last year, I obsessively did crossword puzzles - several a day, actually.

My current obsession is pretty weird. BJ and I love Netflix, and since we don't have TV, we use the 'Watch Instantly' section of our Netflix pretty regularly. Well, last month, I discover that Netflix had posted all ten seasons of Murder, She Wrote to their 'Watch Instantly' selection. Since then, I have obsessively watched Murder, She Wrote. I watch it when I'm folding laundry, when I'm planning menus and grocery lists for the week, when I'm lying around being lazy. I watch it all the time. In fact, while at work, I can't wait to get home so that I can settle down to a nice episode of the always clever Mrs. Fletcher solving a mystery involving several passionate and angry people in large shoulder pads circu 1985. That's my idea of a good evening.

Not that this is important or even interesting. I just thought I'd put it out there. I find that my oddities are less shameful when they're brought out into the light.