Friday, September 30, 2011

Overdose of Decorating Projects

I remember being young and loving it when the decorator would leave her idea books with my parents. They would find me laying on my stomach in the living room flipping through, flagging things I liked, and pretending that I got to decorate the house however I pleased (meaning I had no concept of a budget).

With Baby SA coming in January, I feel a heightened urgency to make our new-to-us house officially our own... which means not just creating a nursery out of an office/sewing room, but fixing the living room, our room, a guest room and the bathroom. Phew, time to take a breath, or have a drink (just kidding!).

In order to help balance the budget a bit, I plan to put my newly discovered sewing "skills" to use, and save money for things that no one in their right mind enjoys doing (i.e. painting). It always sounds fun to paint a room, and receive some sort of immediate gratification; but about 10 minutes in, when my arm is falling asleep, my head is feeling fuzzy, and I'm paranoid about the paint I'm dripping in my hair, it stops being fun. This was also part of Mr. San Antonio's request - if he was going to be ok with me changing all the wall colors, I was not allowed to ask him to do it. We were obviously made for each other.

So, here are some of my ideas for the nursery:

A Valance:

A Crib Skirt:

And some pillow cover ideas (which can also be used in the living room):

More ideas are coming, including some photos of the newly assembled nursery!

Until then, I'm going to go back to focusing on not eating all the oatmeal raisin cookies I made last night. And not laying on the floor, which needs to be swept. And not painting the walls. And not not stopping to not using so many negatives in none of my sentences.

Phew. Enjoy your weekend!

Monday, September 19, 2011

The Pampered Bear

Baby SA's medical journey continues, though now it is just to monitor, not discover. All our tests came back with good results, which is great (!), but they still don't know what caused the intestinal rupture, and are monitoring things to make sure the bowels don't become obstructed (in which case surgery right after birth will be necessary).

So, we went in to see the Specialist, and he got a nice early morning surprise - Momma Bear came out. Of course it was completely his fault. Who in their right mind tells a woman that her child may be taken from her at birth for up to 48 hours?!

I don't think his scars will be too bad...
And of course he did say "may", he also said that things could be relatively normal - with the baby only taken for a couple of hours (at this I retracted my claws and let Mr. San Antonio take over for a minute while I caught my breath).

I think our barrage of questions is what caused him to call another Doctor over at the hospital. Was he calling in for backup troops? Perhaps. But he played it off very diplomatically, as though he was doing us a favor. Sneaky.

With us sitting there, he called the Chief of Internal Medicine (who focuses on perinatal and neonatal issues) at our hospital, explained our situation, and asked if he would meet with us. The man said "Of course!" and arranged for us to have a tour of the facility and go through with him more of the details of what will happen at birth. Who knew that high up Doctors took the time to calm one patient's fears?! That's pretty cool. But if he says one word about a 48 hour removal....

The best part about having to see a Specialist the rest of the pregnancy means monthly pictures of Baby SA.

This time Baby was thumb sucking:

And flexing muscles (Baby is obviously a product of Mr. San Antonio):

In the mean time, my Momma Bear instincts have led me to sharpen some valuable Texas skills...

Yes, I did hit my target (which was a cardboard box across our yard).

And here's a much less intimidating photo (specifically for those of you who don't think pregnant women should be seen holding guns):

And any of you who are spreading rumors about a photo of me going around that may or may not include me holding a rifle, a beer and a cigar... please note that it will not be verified in this public sphere. And if it does exist, I'm not barefoot and I have all my teeth.

Enjoy your Monday,
The Pampered Bear

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Baby Bump, and Other Observations

I officially have a baby bump.

And am pretty excited.

Except that my lovely sister said I look "HUGE!" (Emphasis hers. And yes exaggeration does run in our family, what makes you ask?).

But I'm choosing to enjoy the fact that people are now asking (with less hesitation) if I'm pregnant, coming up to touch my belly, and fun things like that.

Everyone warned me about the belly touching (like it was a totally inappropriate part of our culture), but to be honest, I'm pretty proud of my baby bump, and so far none of my belly touch-ers have been strangers - so the belly touching hasn't bothered me a bit. I'll let you know when that changes... we have some interesting characters at our local grocery store.

I spent a few days recently nursing some stubborn allergies and resting as much as possible. During my stationary time I observed that the green paint I thought would be a good match for our living room looks like someone took their 1970's olive green toaster and smashed it against the wall, and then rubbed limes all over it. I've purchased a new sample in a different tone... and I'm hoping for the best.

I also became painfully aware of the fact that the bag of fabric I bought a few weeks ago to make a valance, crib skirt and baby quilt... has not been opened. I realized this around 2am when I was wide awake and thinking of all the projects I want to complete before the end of January. Number one of course being to birth a child.

Significant observation #3, was discovered while laying on the couch searching online for extra long maternity pants. I've observed that no one in the fashion industry believes that long legged women get pregnant. Thus none of them have bothered to make pants with longer than a 34" inseam (yes I require a longer inseam than that, and no it's not my fault - blame my dad). I've officially given up my search and resigned myself to wearing skirts the rest of the pregnancy.

And my final allergy-induced observation is that it is about time to post a belly picture - to show you the home of the banana/papaya kicking me all day long... but that means I have to take one first. So, you'll have to come back another day to see it. :)

Happy where-did-my-waist-go Wednesday,
The Pampered Bird

Thursday, September 8, 2011

My gun-toting-deer-hanging-dove-shooting-wood-working Man

Mr. San Antonio has taken this whole baby thing really well.

He raided his parents' garage for a box of deer antlers, and nailed them around the eventually-will-be-a-screened-back-patio-now-looks-suspiciously-like-a-carport.

He was given an assassin rifle pellet gun for the express purpose of shooting doves. And even let me take a shot at a tree.

He went in on a hunting lease so he can shoot doves that aren't in our backyard. And as a result grilled us some doves over the weekend - stuffed with an apricot and wrapped in bacon. Yum.

He built the biggest table you've ever seen and will soon be securing it to an extremely heavy tree stump (that he found in the neighborhood and carried back to our house up hill, in the snow, with his pinkie finger) under the eventually-will-be-a-screened-back-patio-now-looks-suspiciously-like-a-carport.

He is covered in bruises because he keeps thinking it's really funny to suggest that our child consider Texas A&M for college. It's sacrilegious I tell you. Which is why I already have Longhorn booties and newborn hat - so that our child will know its true destiny as soon as it sees the light of day.

And he has been very supportive of me during pregnancy. Basically by suggesting I eat ice cream as the solution to every complaint I make.

"I'm so tired, I can hardly keep my eyes open at work."
"Go eat ice cream."

"My back aches and my bladder is being kicked."
"You should have some ice cream."

"I'm so thirsty I can hardly drink enough water."
"Ice cream will cure you."

Isn't he great?

I just love my gun-toting-deer-hanging-dove-shooting-wood-working man.

The Pampered Bird

Thursday, September 1, 2011

So random its hard to create a title

At 20 weeks Baby SA is compared to a small melon.
Interpret that as you wish.

To me that either means if you gently knock, Baby SA should sound hollow. Or, Baby SA stole a piece of chewing gum that tastes like an entire meal as you chew it.

Should we add Violet to our list of names?

I have considered posting a "belly picture" on here (covered of course. though my mother will tell you I was quite the exhibitionist as a young child), but I'm not sure it would look that different than the one I posted around 12 weeks (seen here:

I know there is a baby in there. I feel Baby SA moving around all the time now. But I think I'm just so tall that there is a lot of space for Baby to go other than out - which results in not-so-exciting-belly-pictures, unlike the ones seen here (If you or your mother is in one of these photos... I apologize now).

While I'm busy hiding Baby SA under my ribs, I've taken a significant turn for the worse regarding food cravings. Please avert your eyes of strange food combinations gross you out. But earlier this week I ate a cheese and pickle sandwich.

So weird.

I'm even judging myself.

Then that night, Mr. San Antonio came home from a run and said, "Do you want to get frozen yogurt?"

My foolish response: "Well I already had some chocolate milk after dinner."

His wise comeback: "So, that's like an after dinner drink, that's not dessert."

My low grasp of language: "Like an 'aperitif'?"

His logical reasoning: "Um... more like a 'post-peritif'. Besides the last time we got frozen yogurt was Friday... so its been 96 hours."

My acquiescence to his request: "Oh, well in that case."

I ended my day with banana frozen yogurt topped with vanilla wafers. The yogurt tasted like banana runt candy. Mr. San Antonio said it tasted like his medicine growing up.

I thought it was really good. And for that, I'm judging myself again.

If any of you want to share strange pregnancy cravings (or just strange cravings with no formal excuse to cover up your weirdness), please let me know. It'll make me feel much better.

The Pampered Bird


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