January 11, 2012 by Heather
I am supremely grateful for the following: my mother, who has let us invade her home with all of our belongings, and has also let me invade her space with all of my pregnancy hormones and moodiness…and also I am thankful for her patience with Mayfield, with whom she has a love/annoy relationship with (love/hate seemed too strong). My dad, who is always up for dog sitting, and his wife, who has an affinity for finding cute maternity tops on ebay. Our friends who were so very gracious and hospitable this weekend while we house/apartment hunted – it means so much to have friends who I can take a nap in front of, tell them I’m going #2 and it’s cool, use their sweet bathtub, and do a load of laundry at their house. Also, friends who will drive us all over the place and endure the funness that is apartment hunting. Also, friends who let us eat their food. Especially that. Thank you, Katie, Casey, Mallorie, and Seth.
Yesterday I watched my sweet and perfect niece, Harper. I think that’s the first time I’ve typed out “niece” and actually gotten it right, sweet. We were hanging out, watching the View, when little Harper let out quite a fart. It didn’t sound like it had produced anything, so I just continued letting her sit in my lap.
Produce something it did, let me tell you. The fart odor was lingering, so I decided to check out girlfriend’s britches. I picked her up, put my hand on her back and thought, “Man, she is really sweaty, weird.” It was not sweat, however. It was poop. And not just any poop. MUSTARD POOP. And it wasn’t just on her. It was on me too. Then I looked up and saw that Mayfield decided to join in on the fun and had pooped all over the floor. Fantastic. I froze, unsure of how to handle the situation. I called Hannah and asked if I could give Harper a bath.
Soooo I took off all of Harp’s clothes, wiped her down with a wipey as best as I could (while she clenched the poop-covered onesie in her little fist, gross me out), put on a swim suit (what?), ran a shallow bath, and me and little Poopin’ Queen cleaned up. I held her between my legs and marveled at how freaking cute her little baby stomach was. Also, wet and soapy babies are very slippery. I basically had a death grip on that child the whole time we were in the tub.
Remember a while back when I blogged about losing so much hair while being pregnant? It has not stopped. I now have the hair of a fragile old lady. It requires a significant amount of teasing and hairspray if I want it to look less than limp. My doctor in CO put me on an iron supplement, which I’ve been taking a half a pill of each day. Yesterday I took a whole pill, and I am going to continue to do so for a couple of weeks to see if that helps. More iron = constipation. But I can handle eating my weight in fiber. I cannot handle fragile old lady hair.
Pregnant ladies who might be reading this: please tell me your experience with Round Ligament Pain. Um, ouch. This morning my uterus decided to stretch it’s legs a bit and it left me crawling across the kitchen to my phone to call my sister and say WHAT IS HAPPENING. I called my former ob-gyn’s office and she said that’s probably what it is, and as long as there’s no bleeding then it’s ok. I laid down and it stopped, so I’m just taking it easy today. Good grief though, those ligaments don’t play around do they?
Oh, something else I’m supremely grateful for: We found a place in LR to live!! It is a duplex and it is just what we need. We are moving this weekend. Well, everyone else is moving our things. Andrew has informed me that I am not allowed to move anything. That will probably drive me nuts, and he will probably have to lock me in a room somewhere in order to enforce this rule.
I have decided that I do not like any certain themes for a boy’s nursery. No animals, winnie the pooh, or trains. No argyle painted on the walls. I am going to just stick to a few colors I think. I like dark brown, navy, gray and yellow. We’ll see if I can actually find anything like that.
Now I’m just babbling. But what’s new? Happy Humpday.