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Showing posts from June, 2012

"I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies."

Neither do I, Prissy. (Gone with the Wind, 1939)

Husband and I attended a childbirth class on Saturday for this very reason. Like most first time parents, neither of us has a clue. However, being surrounded by other anxious and slightly neurotic parents-to-be actually made us feel better.

We did learn some interesting tidbits such as keep absorbent towels and a trash bag in the car you plan to take to the hospital. That way if you leak amniotic fluid it won't get on the seats and ruin the way your car smells forever. (Ugh.)

We also have a better understanding of different breathing techniques, when to leave for the hospital and not to change diapers on the floor as Trudy might interpret that as a literal pissing contest and start going all over the house.

At one point, we went around the room and announced our birthing plan. I resisted the urge to say my plan was to get the baby out of me quickly while inflicting as little pain as possible. However, after listening to several wome…

Cankles, heartburn and peeing

That's where I'm at.

After my baby shower two weeks ago I looked down to discover Fred Flintstone's feet were in my sandals. Goodbye, ankle bones. Hope to see you again in a couple months. For now, I'm accepting the sausage feet as part of the whole experience. (Don't get me wrong - I complain about it constantly.) But they say water weight is the easiest to lose, so my fingers are crossed.

I remember my dad popping Tums and moaning about something called heartburn when I was a kid. That must be an old man's disease, I thought. Nope. Another fun side-effect of being with child. Last week, even cereal was causing major indigestion. Prilosec to the rescue. Thank God that's allowed during pregnancy.

Now down to less than two months, the morning dog walk has become an issue. Trudy likes a 45-60 minute walk before napping the day away. My bladder can make it about 15 minutes. So in addition to carrying a dog poo bag and Milkbones, toilet paper has become a neces…

To the bat cave!

If you've ever wondered where's the bat cave, have I got great news for you. It's in my house.

Maybe you were like me and thought about bats only after watching something vampire-related. As Kansas City vermin, they just weren't on my radar. Mice? Traps. Spiders? Exterminator. Bats? Huh? Who deals with bats around here?

Now I do.

My least favorite thing about moving to Husband's neighborhood (and there are many great things, too) is that I now live in a menagerie of my two biggest phobias - snakes and bats. And they are plentiful. Fortunately the snakes have remained outside the house. (At least so far. Crap.)

The bats, however, make themselves at home. Last summer, after an evening walk with Trudy, I opened the front door to a bat circling the living room. Completely freaked out, I called Husband who was working a rock show. He picks up the phone to me screaming "Bat! Bat! There's a %$(*#@ bat in the house!" He can't get home, so our kind neigh…