Cramps & Carter's Clothing

I experienced my first leg cramps the other night. I must have rolled over onto my back and my girl must have crushed some important artery because suddenly I was bolt upright in excruciating pain. I've never had a leg cramp. A Charlie Horse, sure (why do they call them that anyway?) but not a leg cramp. It felt like the muscle in my leg had become a stubborn rubber band which snapped back and tightened. In my pain I woke Brent up and he tried to massage it out which hurt even more. Finally I realized my foot was pointed and I slowly pulled back my toes which seemed to release the cramp. It was still sore the next day but man oh man am I glad it's over. Glad to know Brent's got my back in a situation like that too :)

Over the Thanksgiving weekend we went to New Jersey and on Saturday decided to head to the mall. I am squarely against going shopping at 4AM the day after Thanksgiving. After stuffing myself with stuffing and tryptophan or whatever it is that makes you drunk on bird, I just want to relax and sleep in. Then I like to have leftovers for brunch, lunch and dinner. Anyhoo, on Saturday Mom and Dad were blissfully obligation free so we headed to the mall when the super shoppers would be gone, having done everything Friday morning.

Mom and I spotted a Carter's store and directed Dad over to it. As he parked he sang out, "Staying!" which is his way of saying he'd rather sit in a cold car and people watch than check out the baby stuff. Brent, Mom and I headed in and saw one adorable thing after another and blessing of blessings, all on SALE. There was an adorable pink, plaid jumper but the smallest was a 2T. Brent expressed his concern about buying clothes for a 2 year old and I turned to him and said, "Honey, we have to think ahead. This is the 401(K) of children's clothing." A nearby sales associate laughed.

Mom had Brent occupied and I swiftly walked over to the register. I leaned over to the cashier and said, "I need you to ring these up as quickly as you can before my husband comes over here." She nodded and fast as lightning started scanning madly. Brent wandered over at which point I gestured towards a display in the far corner. "Honey, what ARE those? Are they washcloths? Toys? Go check them out." By now Mom caught the hint and escorted him over. My cashier whispered the total and I thanked her profusely as I scribbled my signature. "I understand" she said, "I'm married too."

Flying High

I'd like to do a shout out to the toilets at the Chicago O'Hare airport. They are among the reasons O'Hare is one of my favorite airports. They have a plastic sleeve that goes around the toilet seat and when you go into the stall you just wave your hand and voila! New plastic for your bootie. I hate to admit I've never actually figured out the paper ones that tend to be hung on the back wall. Are you supposed to tear out the middle part? Throw them away when you're done? Flush them? Too many questions. Oh, and the stalls at O'Hare have long doors so you don't worry about hanging your bag and having someone reach over while you're doing your business and steal all your precious things. The stalls are practically little rooms! Like the toilets in France. Okay, I've never actually been to France but that's what I've heard. There's almost always someone in there cleaning and cleanliness is next to godliness. I'll actually hold it until I reach O'Hare because I love their toilets.

O'Hare is home to my favorite airport fare: the chocolate banana smoothie. Usually trying to find something healthy to eat in a terminal is about as likely as finding you left $1000 in your winter coat last year. You might find a limp salad from a Chili's To Go, and you might find a $20 you forgot about in your coat but not the jackpot. You can also find Chicago style hot dogs which I happen to love. Piled high with slices of tomato and a slice of pickle along with the ketchup, mustard, relish and onions it's like a party in my mouth.

The terminals at O'Hare just make you FEEL like you're in an international airport with the high, curved ceilings and it just so happens they were beginning to put up their holiday decorations. Finally, I guess I love O'Hare because it was more likely than not the last stop before I landed in the heart of the heartland and I was home. Oh the anticipation, I still feel it whenever I step off the plane there! I've heard many people say they avoid O'Hare like the plague but me, I guess I'm lucky because I haven't had a horrible time with delays there. I'm also just a sentimental girl.

Get Your Kicks

I have decided this blog will basically be a retrospective. When something exciting, noteworthy or otherwise anecdotal happens I simply can't find the time to sit down and blog about it. It's always an afterthought. I guess I'd make a horrible journalist.

The other day I'd gotten Brent safely to the subway station and went back home to lie in our warm and comfy bed for juuuuuuuust a little longer. I wasn't really thinking about much when I felt it. A tiny kick in my lower abdomen. Then I felt it again and I was even more sure this was our girl reminding me she was there. I was 20 weeks and starting to feel like a failure because I hadn't felt any kicking but there it was... or should I say there SHE was? I cringed a bit as I called Brent knowing he had a busier than busy day to get through but even over the phone I could sense his excitement as well. When I apologized for bothering him he firmly told me that no, this was important.

The New Testament often talks of how Mary wondered, pondered, marvelled and kept so many thing in her heart regarding her son, Jesus Christ. Although not the mother of the Savior of mankind, I felt a bit of kinship with her at that moment. Maybe my baby did too :)

It's a GIRL!!!

I woke up this morning feeling like it was Christmas. Perhaps it was daylight savings or perhaps it was the anticipation but I couldn't sleep after 5:00 AM. I cuddled with my love and thought about how today was THE day. Today I'd find out if we were having a boy or a girl! Work was pointless and when we were at long last there with the ultrasound tech we gave her our instructions. If it was a boy we were going out for Thai at a restaurant called King and I. If it was a girl we were getting some food from a French delicatessen called Au Bon Pain. So we didn't want to know if we were having a boy or girl, we just wanted a restaurant recommendation. Our tech loved the idea.

I've heard many stories about how the position of the baby can make it impossible to determine the sex. Our little tadpole couldn't have been more obliging. Folded in half, we had a clear shot of the legs, the butt (SUCH a cute butt!!! Must be Brent's genes...) and all the space between. "I'd suggest going to Au Bon Pain for dinner tonight" the tech told us. Brent was beaming and I was thrilled.

There have been many times in my life when I've been happy but this is just... different. I thought I was blown away by the first sonogram. Then the first ultrasound. Now this. It just gets better and better. As I related all this to one of my coworkers he said, "And if you can imagine, it gets even BETTER!"

Cardinal Sin

I confess I did it; I cut my hair. Not a trim but 8 inches to be exact. In spite of everyone's advice that you never, ever, EVER, under pain of death, cut your hair while pregnant. There's great logic behind that reasoning. I'm gaining weight by the nanosecond, my hormones are all over the place and this is not a time for drastic action.

I'm such a rebel :) I also cut the tags off my mattress and go swimming right after I've eaten. I went into the salon and the stylist took one look at my waist-length hair and immediately said, "Just a trim then?" "Nope, we're chopping it off." She stopped mid-stride and eyed my long, long hair again. I pulled out the photo. Now that I'm going to be a mom, I need a supermom haircut. After months of searching and weighing my options I finally found it when I saw Julia Stiles in The Bourne Ultimatum. THAT was what I wanted. When I sat down in the chair I told the stylist it's a truth universally acknowledged that a pregnant woman in possession of long hair must be made to keep it long. I needed her to make this haircut look like it was the best decision of my life. She smiled wryly and we were off to shampoo. Minutes later as she combed through my dripping hair, parted it and pulled out the scissors she commented how calm I was.

The chatty salon went silent as my tendrils fell in long, curly heaps on the floor. Everyone watched. Even other stylists with clients stopped clipping and hair drying to watch. About half-way through, my stylist commented that she'd always wanted to do this with her own hair but was too scared. Yes yes, I was courageously cutting my coif off. When the last long piece tumbled to the floor I felt like William Wallace in the movie Braveheart stretched, disemboweled and about to be decapitated. FREEEEEEEDOMMMMM!!! Unwittingly, she had chopped off years of loneliness, heartbreak, fear, uncertainty, despair, unfulfilled dreams. All that was past had suddenly disappeared and you could see my face so much more clearly. No more hiding behind a curtain of hair, this was me.

With my supermom haircut and my expanding belly I see nothing but the future ahead of me. It sounds silly, but I could see a good mom looking back at me in the mirror. One that just might be an amazing influence on her child. And if that didn't work out, I could always help amnesiac rogue assassins expose corruption in the government bureaucracy. A happy second option :)