Too peanutty?

There are so many things to consider when pregnant. It's easy to avoid the obvious dangers -- the ones everyone tells you about, like changing cat litter (for fear of toxoplasmosis) and drinking alcohol. Every now and again I come across something that I haven't considered, though... and it totally freaks me out.

Not long ago, I was reading about various prenatal exercises in a booklet that the insurance company sent. One cheerful little bullet point warned that I should avoid doing crunches, because (of course) lying on my back would deprive the baby of oxygen. WHAT? But... EVERY NIGHT I lie on my back to read before going to sleep! Had I -- at the very least -- made the baby dumber?

Further research has led me to believe that no, we're fine -- but later on in the pregnancy I should stay on my side, for both our sakes. The Sprout's just not that unwieldy yet. OK, that's a relief...

Then there was the toothpaste incident. In my defense, not only was I half asleep, I was also catching a cold. Here, it's salt -- have a grain. Anyway, I was up in the middle of the night because I was huuuungry. I decided to brush my teeth after my snack, rinsed out my mouth and -- I think -- swallowed some toothpaste foam. Hm. Well, I had the internet at my disposal, so I decided to see if that would be a problem for Sprout.

Oops. It turns out that the fluoride toothpaste debate is ongoing and rabid. Fluoride is a neurotoxin (eep!), and whether it should be used at all by pregnant women or young children is under scrutiny (possibly crackpot scrutiny, but I couldn't tell at that time of night). Oh dear. I had, once again, probably made the baby dumber.

The next day, I remembered that I had access to a 24-hour nurse hotline. The nice RN looked into things for me. Once again, no damage done. Sigh.

The thing is, I'm not like this. All on my own, I'm perfectly willing to take risks -- even with toxic chemicals (mercury in fish, anyone?). My usual approach is that I'm certainly not going to live forever, and I'd like to enjoy my sushi in the meantime. Now that I'm sharing space, though, making decisions for two of us, I find myself being almost freakishly cautious. (Alright, scratch the 'almost.' I had Matt smell the peanut butter the other night because I thought it smelled too... peanutty.)

It's strange, and novel, and probably only the beginning of the strange and novel shifts in how I'll approach the world as a parent. I just hope someone is always on hand to douse me with a nice, cold bucket of common sense.

Or just to smell the peanut butter.

Photo session #I'veLostCount

Time for some new pictures of Beth!

We're now closing out week 17, and as you may notice, the sprout is most certainly sprouting. The 4 am trips downstairs for sustenance are becoming more frequent, and remain just as amusing for those of us in the house who aren't pregnant; I never know when I will, for example, come downstairs to discover that all the muenster cheese has vanished from the house, as if by magic, whilst I slept.

Daguerreotypes ensue:

Sprout does things

We just had the four-month checkup, during which they did an audio-only sonogram (to listen for the heartbeat). So we're listening to the (delightfully strong) heartbeat, and suddenly... *THWACK*. The sprout kicks the microphone. I like that his/her first recognizable movement was kung fu.

Symmetricality

Yes, here we are, back in MD after our Minneapolis trip. It was both strange and wonderful to spend time with soon-to-be-aunt Alice and soon-to-be-uncle Will, people I first met during oddly cerebral drunken evenings at Oberlin before I had even met miss Bethany. Most likely, the next time we see them, we will both have tiny people, and those tiny people will be cousins, and someday they can go out and have oddly cerebral drunken evenings together.

For the moment, though, they're sort of indistinguishable from melons in bas-relief.

Making Waves

Hello, yoppers.

My latest "impending parenthood" update is only indirectly baby-related... but it's significant to us, so I thought I'd share. After a great deal of consideration (maybe too much consideration, actually -- I can go back and forth on an issue like nobody's business), I recently decided not to go back to teaching in the fall. *dramatic thunderclap*

Yeah. It'll be a big change for us, but it's one that we're ready to take on. After much discussion (much, much discussion), we've come to the conclusion that it simply makes the most sense. I wish I could go into more detail, but the seductively private feel of blogging -- it's just you guys reading this, right? -- is not going to deceive me this time. Oh internet, public forum for everyone's inner monologue, I know you too well!

Since I was off for the summer anyway, my day-to-day routine really hasn't changed. I do feel different -- much lighter, happier, and ready to take on any household challenge that nips at my heels. I've also had the chance to work on some freelance writing projects. Imagine that. :)

So. The hope is that having a slower-paced, more restful third trimester than I would have (had I been in the classroom) will make everyone less crazy in the long run. Here's to hope!

Peace and love,

The Mama-to-Be

Notes from the Midwest baby underground

We've discovered our go-to baby store. It's built into a large Edwardian house in St. Paul, Minnesota. Therein lie items from the baby underground: organic cotton sheets for a reasonable amount of money, finely crafted wooden ladybugs on wheels (for high-speed insect chases), and bamboo kimonos. Like this one:

And they ship things :-). Anyway, we're back from visiting the sprout's proto-cousin, and had a wonderful time. New belly pics to follow, but in the meantime, here are Beth and Alice being pregnant in a big chair.

In which I ramble from the air

Two things are happening right now.

First, we're on a plane to Minneapolis to spend a long weekend with Beth's brother and sister-in-law (which is to say, Will and Alice, or my brother-in-law and sister-outlaw). The plane was delayed, because that's what happens to Northwest Airlines planes, and apparently during the delay I misplaced my ability to focus on anything I'm reading. Since this isn't Virgin America, I can't explore back episodes of Eureka from my seat, so here I sit. I've decided to try writing a full-on blog post on my iPhone. So far it's going pretty well, dontcha think? You didn't even know, did you? Be honest -- I'm no more concise than usual, am I?

See?

The second thing that's happening is that the sprout is on his last full-on vacation before being born. (Beth can only travel for another month and a half, and these are the last two flights we have planned.)

It's becoming clear that, as much as we're anticipating his arrival, we're both a little bit freaked about having Primary Caregiver Responsibility over this little person who is, as of today, about five and a half months from saying a great big hello to this here world. And by "we're both a little freaked," of course, I mean "Beth knows exactly what's up, and I'm a little freaked." While on the one hand, I've got the standard new hypotheti-father jitters, I have to say that what's really getting to me is that I don't know if I'll be a sufficiently good storyteller.

This morning on the way to work, I was listening to an audiobook of "What Do You Care What Other People Think", which is a collection of stories and other writings by the kick-ass physicist Richard Feynman. In said book, he told a story about his father's amazing ability to make science, any science, accessible and interesting. (If you haven't read it, it's brilliant, and you should check it out.). The way he was able to do it was to link everything to the real world. The size of a tyrannosaurus wasn't just some numbers; it meant that if he were standing on the lawn, he'd be tall enough to reach the bedroom window, but his head would be too big to fit inside. That sort of skill is something I've always aspired to, and I just don't know how well I'll be able to break down something as complex and multifaceted as, well, everything, into bits and pieces that somebody who can barely get his or her pants on facing the right way will find engaging and interesting. See, when I imagine my bonding time with little sprout, it's almost always teaching 'em -- having a conversation about why stars twinkle, or where dreams come from -- that come to mind. So I suppose what I'm really saying is that I have a lot of thinking to do over the next few months, so I have a little bit of a head start when the sprout asks me something really insightful, and I don't just want to bullshit him/her. Which, of course, sometimes I will. Just for funsies.

(As an appendix to this post, I'm also going to say that I think the iPhone's keyboard is spectacular, and that people who say "oh, but it doesn't have a physical keyboard" are completely missing the point. I've been able to knock out this entire post at something approaching full typing speed. Having used MANY small physical keyboards over the last ten years or so, I can tell you that I've never gotten anywhere close to this before, even when the keyboard was substantially larger than this one is. Smart keyboards are the only way we've got right now to solve the fact that, if it's the right size for you pocket, it's the wrong size to type on! Ok, that is all. Thanks for your support.)

Ve build ze nest.

We just bought the dining table that the sprout is going to remember as "the table." The one that s/he knows from below just as well as from above. It's pretty slick.

A tough decision, sort of.

This post is, partially, a eulogy for the Orbit stroller. Yes, Orbit, your top-shelf industrial design was beguiling; your three hundred and sixty degrees of child rotation left us imagining children happily askew during walks to the library; your startlingly simple seat attachment and detachment made our fingers positively tingle with anticipation.

Nonetheless, your astronomical price tag stands in our way. Calling yourself a System, but including none of the additional parts in the already hefty initial purchase, means that we cannot partake of your wonders.

The first tough decision in the planning of the sprout's arrival, then, is this: certain sprout accessories will be superior, but simply will not be worth the cost. Even when the thing manages to be both well-designed and free of excessive branding, the business of Baby is still a lucrative one, one that drives prices very high indeed, and sometimes we're going to have to forgo The Thing in favor of The Thing That Makes Sense.

So instead, BOB Revolution Stroller, we come to you. You, too, have a fine frame and easy maneuvering. You, too, can accommodate both tiny sprout and toddler sprout. You are less expensive, to be sure, but you have some comparative drawbacks. You are not, for example, a System unto yourself. But though you do not rotate, and necessitate an infant seat that will be slightly more difficult to insert into and remove from our cars, we love you all the same.

Plus, you come in a pretty brown/sky blue combination that Beth thinks is suh-weet.

Mm... *Smack*

You know you must be pregnant when you get up in the middle of the night to drink a nice, cold mug of half & half. Dee-licious!

Alive and awake

The second trimester has arrived in full force! Know how we can tell? Because, as of about 7 pm on Monday afternoon, Beth's energy is back. It's actually pretty incredible; the transition from completely worn out and napping multiple times per day to bouncing off the walls took about 15 minutes.

This has basically been the way of things for the entire pregnancy so far -- during the first few weeks, the cravings would shift instantly. Wednesday: jalapeno-stuffed olives and the most viciously vinegary potato chips I could get my hands on. Thursday: that's ridiculous, there must be SOUP! It was the same with the (fantastically brief) morning sickness. Everything was totally normal, then we went to see Star Trek, and suddenly Beth was nauseous for the next 2 weeks. (Normally, I would chalk that up to poor scriptwriting, but the movie was really good!)

So here we are in the middle months. In less than two months, we'll know if we'll be acquiring a sprout or a sproutina. Shortly thereafter, they say, s/he can start discerning voices (although, as mentioned earlier, we're already having some chats). Indeed, strange things are afoot at the Circle K.