This Is Going to Get Ugly

I am almost 37 weeks pregnant. I am 1 cm dilated and 75% effaced. I am so exhausted that I have to talk myself into getting into the shower every day and brushing my hair. No make-up, thanks. I would rather set my hair on fire than to blow it dry. This baby is coming any day now, and there is a good chance I'm going to the hospital in my tank tops and pajama bottoms with dirty hair because I took a short cut in the shower.

About a month or two ago, I still thought I would stick to my resolve to have cute pictures of myself taken while in labor. You've seen those pictures on Facebook. Cute mom with make-up on. Curled hair. Calmly sitting in bed. Well, why I thought I would be like that the second time around, I have NO idea. My feeling now is that if you are able to have those pictures taken, you went to the hospital too damn soon and are going to catch the ebola virus and dyslexia. And OH, my GOD. My first labor was 4 hours long, and I am fairly certain that if Ryan had tried to pull a camera on me, my head would have spun around my head and had fire come out of my mouth. There will be no photos during my labor. None. I don't want to know what I look like after I've vomited and a head is about to pop out of me.

I know that The Books say I may experience bursts of energy and start Nesting. False. My only bursts of energy come when I have to get to the bathroom since my unborn child keeps bumping his/her head against my cervix. I occasionally get motivated to wash something or put a swing together because I realize, "Holy crap. This baby could come tomorrow and then I would have to put him/her in a car seat that hasn't had the cover washed... EVER!" or "OMG. The hospital bag! If I went into labor right now, I would have nothing to take to the hospital!".

A word about The Hospital Bag. There are a lot of suggestions of what to bring to the hospital. My suggestion? Bring it all. Realize that I am completely delirious though. Some of the items my husband has raised an eyebrow at but chosen wisely not to say anything about: flameless candles, a head massager, and stereo speakers. I stand by my choices. Ironically, the hair dryer is also packed.

The Books also say that women MAY experience occasional mood swings. Hmmm. Really? The only thing I've been moody about are Ryan's socks being stuffed inside each other, Ryan taking too long to take a shower, Ryan not leaving soon enough in the morning, Ryan doing the laundry wrong, and... Ryan. In moments of clarity, I think I need to get him a push present for the past 9 months. This is not a moment of clarity.

I remember reading that upper class women during the Renaissance were sent into confinement for the last month or so of their pregnancy. At the time I thought it sounded horrible. Boarded up windows? Locked into your room? Now I can't think of a more ideal scenario. It would be like a vacation! Sleep all day! Lounge in your pajamas! Read as much as you want! Oh, to be in confinement. Sigh.

That is all for today. I am going to wander around listlessly and wait for Henry to wake up.

Swag Wag

This past Friday we said goodbye to our Infiniti SUV and hello to a brand new... wait for it... MINIVAN! Now I would be lying if I said giving up our SUV was easy. It was a little emotionally difficult because that was "our first child" vehicle. It was a chapter in our life that is almost over.

Buying a van is symbolic, I suppose. We don't go out to clubs and restaurants on the weekend (very often), so we don't need something sleek and slim to drive down M Street without worrying what or whom we will hit. We live far enough away from the city that gas mileage actually does matter since we don't take the metro everywhere. Our lives are different than we were when we first got married, and thank God for that. Cue the Parent Rap. Our car is a reflection of that, but it's not our identity, which is something that people seem to be a little confused about.

Since buying the van, we've gotten a few remarks that make me question, not our decision in buying it, but how others identify what they drive with themselves. Having moved to Europe and back several times as a kid, my family owned a lot of cars. We owned everything from a VW bug (the O.G. as I like to think of it), to a Mercedes. No big deal. We bought cars that made sense for our family. Driving a bug didn't make us hippies (we weren't that cool) nor did driving a Mercedes make us trendy (we weren't that cool). A car is a car, and I guess I've always felt that way; it's not a reflection of who you are, but maybe where you are in your life.

Let me tell you about this van. This Saturday, Ryan and I went tailgating at FedEx field for the JMU vs. WVU game. In our van, we were able to pack up an enormous cooler, two chairs, a card table, a Bose speaker, three bags of food, and a Weber grill. And we listened to Shade on XM radio en route. We had my waters cooling in the built in chill box up front. We talked on the phone via Bluetooth and listened to songs from my iPod, courtesy of the USB cord. When we arrived, I plugged in our Bose speaker (there are two outlets) and could've watched a movie on the DVD player had the mood struck. This car is awesome.

The best part about the van? Henry LOVES it. As in, it's a fight getting him out of it.

Someone asked us, though, "How much room do you really need? Why not just get a big SUV?". Dummy. We will have two children in a matter of weeks. We have a dog that weighs 94 pounds. We go on vacations to Ohio and South Carolina about three times a year, not to mention our beach trips. Have you ever taken a vacation with an infant? Do you know how much stuff they need? Plus, I live in an area where driving 15 miles can mean 20 minutes or it can mean 1 hour. I will be damned if I squeeze my family into another SUV with terrible gas mileage because I'm too proud to be in a minivan. F that noise.

Ryan and I are still the same people. I have not started wearing mom jeans (although the number of college girls wearing cut-off mom jeans is disturbing). Ryan has not started wearing Tevas. We do not cruise yard sales on weekends and... whatever else nerdy middle-aged people do. We don't do that. So this is my chapter. I'm totally owning it. I am a proud owner of a minivan. His name is Lionel.

Cue the Swagger Wagon video.

Henry's First Day of School

I'm going to go ahead and write this post as if I haven't been MIA for the past month. I've been busy, and any free time I have available has been spent sleeping/cleaning/or pinning things I'll never do/buy/make on Pinterest.

Today was Henry's first day of preschool. For some reason, everyone's asked how I have dealt with it. Blank stare. I suppose they are expecting me to confess that I broke down in the parking lot and ran in to watch him from the window. But that would be a lie. Instead, I did this. I flew to Austria and danced around and got back just in time for the school to call me and pick Henry up...early.

Yes, Henry has separation anxiety and after an hour and a half of off and on crying, the school called me to pick him up. Apparently he would be fine, but then another little boy would start crying and it would set him off again and vice versa. His mom was smart enough to bring flowers to the teachers. Damn.

 Of course, by the time I arrived to pick Henry up it was recess and if there's one thing Henry knows how to do, it's wreck shop on the playground. So I just waited around until the early release at 11. When I walked in, he started crying again and leaped out of his teacher's arms. The kid was in shambles.

Needless to say, I'm hoping Thursday goes better.