3athletejen

I'm in desperate need of help. Yesterday, in an effort to prepare for upcoming baby showers, I registered at Target online. Well, I didn't really register. I have a registry. It just doesn't have anything on it. Because there is just too much freaking stuff. I am completely overwhelmed. I get the essentials like a car seat. Yes, we need one. We most want two seat bases. However, there are literally hundreds of car seats. How the hell do I know which one is good? Do I need a convertible car seat? If I get the car seat that adapts to the stroller thing do I then also need a stroller? Why is this so hard? It's hard because I'm clueless. Maybe a little internet research will help? It doesn't. Half the suggested baby lists are sponsored by advertisers that are insistent I need a water temperature checker. Hey, Parents.com, I have one of those. It's called my hand. Is an ear thermometer necessary? I still remember the old thermometer in the behind method and it w...

After the monsoon of a week we had in Kansas City, Trudy was not happy. Her walks were shorter, there were no trips to the muddy dog park and in general, she was bouncing off the walls. Husband and I were desperate to tame the puppy energy. Enter the dog tow leash. You know when you order something online and have these ridiculously high expectations? Then it's delivered and the results are just, well, meh? That was NOT the dog tow leash. This thing is awesome. Husband had Trudy hooked up in a flash and they were off doing laps through the neighborhood. She was literally trying to pull him up the hills. After 30 minutes, she was exhausted. We were giddy thinking we've found the quickest way to wear her out once the baby is here. Saturday continued to be Trudy-focused when I morphed into the total overreacting dog owner. Dogs lick their butts. I'm well aware of this. However, Trudy was licking her business non-stop. After a couple hours of this, Husband and I are wondering w...

Unless you completely abstain from watching entertainment TV or looking at mainstream news web sites, it's impossible not to know that Jessica Simpson is pregnant. Very, very pregnant. I find myself wondering if it's her due date every time I see her photo. Please understand I'm not judging. One thing I have humbly learned is that every woman has a different pregnancy. All kinds of factors play a role. How active are you? How much of an appetite do you have? What number pregnancy is it? Do you really believe the eating for two philosophy? Simpson has taken flack for several decisions. Her first was wearing sky high heels while sporting a prominent bump. As long as she's not falling down, who cares? Plus, I can totally relate to wanting to appear taller. Taller gives the impression of narrower. It's simple geometry. (I think. I got a C in geometry.) While her feet may hurt, if she wants to suffer for the sake of appearance, let her. I've found myself wearing hig...

that was the question. The answer - because I am weak and terribly impatient - is to know. I walked into the ultrasound room today with the conviction that I would not find out the sex of the baby. I'm not sure why, other than already having told everyone we weren't finding out. The technician went through the standard ultrasound steps - heart, head, spine, appendages. All there. Whew. The baby's face was hidden due to positioning and hands over the face. The shyness must come from Husband's side of the family. (The best pic was of the hands looking in need of some brass knuckles. Pow pow.) As we finished up I asked the tech if she knew what it was. Sure do, she said. I looked at Husband, who had made no secret that he wanted to find out. He looked at the floor. "Do you really want to know?" I asked. "Yeah, I really do," he said. So I caved. Also, I sought validation since I was certain it was a boy. My acupuncturist had speculated boy after checkin...

Sophie Day Dec. 24, 1999 - March 15, 2012 Sheet rock remover, helpful hole digger, poolside lounger, landscaping assistant, rabbit catcher, mole digger-upper, squirrel chaser, golf course roamer, food beggar, front door greeter...the list could go on and on. She was my first dog, my favorite walking partner and my best pal. We'll miss you more than you'll ever know, sweet girl. Thank you for being our dog.

There have been many enlightening pregnancy experiences since I last blogged, several of which are worthy of their own entries. However, per usual, I’m short on time, so here’s the Cliff Notes version pertaining to the chest region. (If you feel this is TMI, I understand. Don’t read it. I just don’t want to sugarcoat my blog. Women need to know the truth.) 1. There is a sports bra named The Last Resort. If you are a runner who’s well endowed pre-pregnancy, you may have to order this lovely piece of – ahem – athletic lingerie. Sixteen snaps, people. That is how many fasteners this monster has, but true to the advertised word, it eliminates bounce. 2. You will have an specific moment when you realize you need The Last Resort. Mine occurred on the treadmill at week twelve. At first running was as appealing as eating a spoonful of mayonnaise. But then I turned the second trimester corner and thought, “I can still run!” So onto the treadmill I stepped and ...