For CJ

Even though it was yesterday, I thought I would take a few minutes to blog in honor of my little sister's birthday. Mere beat me to it and stole most of the good stories, like how Mary Beth one day decided to rename herself CJ and how she wore a bathing suit nearly every day of her life. The days when she couldn't pick just one to wear, she would simply layer one on top of the other. Problem solved.

Growing up, MB and I were the best of friends, until I hit 6th grade and became WAY too cool for her. One thing we loved to do together was get dressed up in our brothers clothes and put hunting masks over our faces until we were certain that no one would recognize us. Then we took the guns from the Super Mario Brothers Duck Hunt game (you know what I'm talking about) and very cleverly wrapped the cords around our bodies so they wouldn't drag the floor. That would just be a dead giveaway that the guns were fake. Then sneaked down the stairs to scare our family. We never could understand how they always knew it was us. We were sure they would think we were just very short robbers.

Then there was the time that Mere decided she wanted to be a photographer. She dressed MB up in a pink outfit with a huge floppy hat and posed her on the bed with all of her stuffed animals. I sure wish I had a scanner so I could share that picture with you.

Mary Beth has always had a rather large mouth, and growing up, if she thought it, she said it. There was no filter, a fact that made my parents rather nervous in social situations. Case in point: One time we were trying to sell our house, and Mary Beth informed the rather large men that came to look at it that they were very fat indeed. Funny, we never heard back from them.

I have to give MB some credit though. At least she never hid a tape recorder under my bed, then made me tell her all the boys I had a crush on like some sister I know, who shall remain nameless.

Anyway, I love you Mary Beth. I miss you, miss you every day. Take care of yourself in Memphis, and don't go too crazy now that you're legal. I'd give you a call to let you know that I just blogged about you, but it's only 12:45, and I seriously doubt you're awake yet. Sleep on, sister. Sleep on.

Go Bulldogs!

I'd just like everyone to know that the Bulldogs have been undefeated while the Rebels have yet to win a game since SB was born 2 1/2 weeks ago. We are 3-0 while Ole Miss is 0-3 since SB made her appearance. She loves to wear her bulldog outfit on gameday, and I think she's a good luck charm.

I think that the elements, as Dr. Watson said to Sherlock, "are coming together, sir." I was shopping for my daughter, SB (I buy most of her clothes). And Coach Croom was in the same shop, and it just was an accident. Y'know, we started talking... about pantyhose. He was saying—whatever, that's not the point of the story, but what the point is was that through this accidental meeting—it's like, y'know, it's like a Hitchcock movie, where, you know, you're thrown into a rubber bag and put in the trunk of a car. You win games; you win them. Is it karma? Maybe. But we're winning. That's the important thing. And I got SB a wonderful pantsuit.

Thanks, Possum

I've been tagged. Possum has issued me a challenge. List 10 things that make me happy and do it before SB wakes up. You should see me trying to type and hold her at the same time. It's amusing. Okay, I've got a few minutes before it's time for her to eat again. Here goes.

1. RBFs. I know you all probably thought SB would be #1, but RBFs were the first thing that came to mind. Thanks to my sister-in-law, Corrie, I now know that A&W root beer is caffeine free. So yesterday, SB and I enjoyed our first RBF since we came home from the hospital. It was delicious.
2. SB. See, she made the top 2. Even when I'm dragging myself out of bed for the 3rd time at 4 am, listening to her screaming down the hall, I still love her. Even though sometimes I get really tired, every time she smiles at me, I melt. And I thought she had daddy wrapped around her little finger...
3. Jack. Even though I give him a hard time on my blog, he really is the best. He has always treated me like a princess, and he has been especially wonderful since SB got here. Plus, he's really cute. Which helps. (Extra points for Jack- he made me breakfast the other day and held SB so I could eat in peace.)
4. I just lost 15 pounds. This makes me very happy, even though I still look like I'm 5 months pregnant (was NOT expecting that). I can see my feet again, and now I can put my shoes and socks on all by myself without contorting myself into strange positions while holding my breath.
5. No more DV. I haven't had to drink any CWP since the night before I went into the hospital! I can sleep peacefully at night, for 1 1/2 hours at a time, without waking up with my throat on fire. Score.
6. The Bulldogs are 2-0 since SB was born. I knew she was smart and talented and beautiful. Who would have guessed that she is also a good luck charm? Going for 3-0 this weekend. She'll be in her cheerleader outfit for the game.
7. My fam. I've got the best one in the world, seriously. Except for Meredith, who moved to practically Mexico and never comes to visit. Just kidding Mere, you know you're one of my favorite sisters.
8. My mom. I know I already said my family, but seriously. I have to single her out because she's my best friend (besides Jack) and because she deserves all the special recognition I can give her. Those of you who know her don't need me to go on and on about her, but humor me. She moved in with us for a week after SB was born and took care of all the cooking, cleaning and laundry for me. All I did was take care of SB. My mom even spent her nights taking care of the baby. She woke me up every 3 hours to feed her, then sent me back to bed while she burped, changed and got SB back to bed. She's still on standby in case I want to nap or run errands.
9. Murry. You didn't think I would forget Murry, did you? Of course not. The new season started this week, and it did not disappoint. One lady was one million point nine nine nine nine nine nine nine nine nine percent sure that that "ugly ole sorry punk "was her baby's daddy. I couldn't believe it when she was wrong!

OK I know that's only 9 but I can't hold SB off any longer. Time to feed. again.

Playing Mommy

Had a bit of a rough morning. SB is finally fed, clean, dry and napping. I wish I could say the same for me. She was so good last night, but I think she got mad at me when I let her cry a little bit around 5:00 this morning. It wasn't time for her to eat until 6:30, and I was exhausted. After a few minutes, she went back to sleep, then woke up again. We played this game for about half an hour. Five minutes of crying, five minutes of sleeping. I finally gave in around 5:30 and decided to feed her an hour early.

Well, she must have spent that half hour plotting her revenge. After I fed her, I changed her diaper. As soon as I got the dirty one off, she fired off a round of yellow projectile poop. It flew across the changing table, effectively destroying everything in its path, including her burp cloth, a box of wipes, the changing table pad and my right hand.

Nice timing, SB.

She then decided that it would be a good time to spit up everywhere. I tried to sit her up with my good hand whilst attempting to clean off my yellowed hand. Then she started peeing. With waste firing out both ends, I had not yet had time to put a clean diaper on her. Just add pee to the list of things currently soiling the changing table.

I finally got both ends to stop spewing, managed to clean myself and SB up and get a clean diaper on her (our third one in 5 minutes).

Then she started sucking on her fist like a starved maniac; I had just finished feeding her 10 minutes before, mind you. I figured it was the best way to get her back to sleep though, so I stuck her back on. After about 45 seconds of nursing, she let loose with another poo.

Awesome.

At least this time I had a diaper on her. Another change, another 45 seconds of nursing, another poo.

I kid you not.

I'd had enough by this point, and decided that she had eaten enough for the time being. I can promise you, this kid is not starved of anything, especially not food.

Does she look hungry to you?

Daddy is Bad!

Last night, Jack decided that one week is enough time for SB to be coddled. He decided that it was time for her to start "self-soothing" at night. He even went as far as to suggest that we close our door AND the door to the nursery so we couldn't hear her if she cried. As if!

In the end, we agreed to disagree, but settled on a compromise. I left the doors open, but I let her cry for a couple of minutes before rushing in to pick her up. She ended up doing great; after 11:00 last night, she slept for 3 hours in between feedings.

Fast forward a few hours. It's 6 am and I've just finished feeding SB. Daddy is awake and ready to play. Mr. "Let's Get Her on a Schedule" decides that she has been such a good girl all night, she deserves a little spoiling. So instead of returning her to her bassinet, he takes her to the bedroom to nap on his chest.

**Disclaimer for all you moms out there. Don't freak out. We don't let her sleep with us while we are sleeping. She only gets to cuddle in our bed when we are awake and can watch her. So relax.

I however, was not ready to play. I was ready to finish sleeping. Also, I didn't think that holding her while she was supposed to be sleeping fit in with his discipline plan very well. He won, but only because I was too tired to fight.

He also has found a clever and subtle new way of spoiling himself. Whenever he wants something but doesn't want to get it himself, he just tells SB. For example, when I woke up at 8:30 this morning, Jack told SB how much he would love a cup of coffee. Here's how it went down.

Jack: I sure would love a cup of coffee.

Jack in his best SB voice: That sounds yummy, daddy!

Jack: I sure wish mommy would go make some coffee.

Jack as SB: Maybe she would if you asked her nicely.

Jack: No, she probably doesn't want to. But she would get up and make some if she really wanted to, without me having to ask her.

I wish I had time to elaborate, but I can hear SB. She's ready for breakfast. Again.

But don't worry. I punished Jack. After I finished laughing at his lame attempt to have me make his coffee, I sighed, rolled out of bed and handed Jack SB's burp cloth. I told him I would be right back, and I could tell he thought he had won.

Nay.

I came straight downstairs to blog about him instead. I can't wait until he reads this.

It's all I can do to get up and down the stairs to the computer these days. Feeling a few effects from the whole "giving birth" experience. Posts may be few and far between for a while until I get better. I've turned into little more than an all night buffet for SB, but I love it. She's absolutely precious, and Jack and I are having a blast being parents. I know you're all dying for more pictures. Who am I to object?

We had our first visit to the doctor today, and SB is doing great. She has gained an ounce and doesn't have jaundice, which Jack has been really worried about. He's so cute with her. He has been worried about her not eating enough. He actually set his alarm clock to go off every 3 hours in the night to make sure I didn't forget to wake up and feed her. As if!

Anyway, now that she has gotten a good report from the doctor, I think he will relax a little. On the bright side, he's done enough worrying for both of us, so I've been able to relax and let him take care of the "what ifs." Now if I could just get a little sleep...

Here she is!

HOORAY! She's finally here! My dad came by this morning to bring a camera, donuts and his laptop so I could post some pictures. (Thanks to the Days Inn next door for providing the Internet service.)

Here I am heading out to the hospital on Thursday morning with my giant belly.

Jack took full advantage of our situation yesterday by running every red light on Gillespie Street while singing "Slave to the Traffic Light." He sped down Hwy 82 going about 90 mph; I think he was hoping to get pulled over so he could tell the policeman that we were on our way to the hospital. Never mind the fact that I wasn't actually in labor...we were on our way to induce...

Anyway, I don't know what all the fuss is about regarding childbirth. It was a cinch. We got to the hospital at 7, started pitocin around 8:30; four hours later, here she was! I did have to have an enema...while the doctor told me I could refuse it, I felt it might be best for SB if I went through with it. As much as I didn't want to have it done, I really didn't want to BM on the table. I don't imagine that would be a very wonderful way to meet your mommy... Welcome to the world; here's some poop for your head.

The IV was worse though. They used a ginormous needle and stuck it in the top of my hand. It hurt like heck the whole day, and they didn't take it out until nearly 5 oclock that afternoon. Give me childbirth over an IV any day.

Not to mislead anyone; the pain was pretty intense until I got the epidural. Jack was trying to talk me through the contractions, but I told him NOT to make me laugh. But he is such a natural comedian; he just couldn't help cracking a few jokes here and there. I could tell he was trying not to laugh at his own jokes while I was having contractions. I wonder if he could tell I was trying not to defenestrate him while I was having contractions.

Once the epi set in around 11:30, I went from 5 cm to 10 cm in an hour!! When the nurse asked if I was ready to push, I couldn't believe it was time already. I was like, "WHAT??" and she was like, "YEAH!" It was not unlike a Little John concert. About 10 minutes later, Sarah Beth was exercising her lungs for the first time ever. 12:40 pm. Done and done.

We almost lost Jack for a few minutes when SB was ready to be born. He said he was ready to cry, faint and vom all at the same time. For a few seconds, the attention in the room shifted from me to him as my mom and the nurse tried to calm him down. Thankfully, he pulled himself together quickly and everyone's attention went back to where it belonged. on myself. Jack coached me through the final stages like a pro. He then told the doctor that SB looked like an alien when she first came out. She looked much cuter after they cleaned her up a little bit.

She weighs 6 lbs and 5 oz and is 19 inches long with dark hair and gray blue eyes. She was wide awake yesterday, taking in her new surroundings. I can't believe how cute she is. I mean, I knew she would be cute, but still. She really outdid herself. I think she looks just like her daddy.

I have tons more pictures, but I'll just post a few for now.

Baby Watch 2007

Many of you have voiced serious concerns about my extended absence from blogging. It's true. Not unlike my ankles, I will be on hiatus for a while after tonight.

Those of you who wish to contact us can call the hospital in West Point. We will NOT be at the Starkville hospital, so don't look there. Jack will be leaving updates on my cell phone voicemail, so you can also try that.

Unfortunately, I do not have a laptop, so I will be unable to blog during the birth. However, I plan to take a tape recorder and take notes for you that way, so when I get home, I can recount the details accurately. I am also hoping that Jack will take over some of the blogging responsibilities for me while I'm out.

I'm very sorry to leave you hanging like this, but what else can I do? We're taking it easy tonight, going to dinner with some friends then to bed early. I haven't slept in about a week, and last night was awful. SB wanted me to know that she was still doing ok, and she reassured me with her constant yoga moves, starting around 2:30 this morning. I didn't go back to sleep until Jack left at 6.

I'm praying that I get more sleep tonight, although that is doubtful. However, in my best attempt to get a good night's sleep, I've decided to pass on one final RBF after dinner tonight. I was planning on going to Bops after dinner to enjoy one after my final meal (I can't have anything after midnight), but I just can't risk the caffeine. So if you come visit in the hospital, bring RBFs. I'll probably be willing to pay top dollar for one after L&D.

While my fear of labor is seriously kicking in, my fear of motherhood is weakening. I realized the other day how great I was at playing pretend, and I think this mom thing is going to be a cinch. Here are a few examples:

• An Asian lady called the office other day, and I caught the word "roof" so I knew it wasn't a wrong number. However, that was about the only thing I understood out of her mouth. I pretended to understand everything she said. I asked her if her roof was leaking, and she gave me some numbers. Then more incoherent statements. I took it like a pro, and just said, "yes" and "I see" until she finally stopped.

• I had a serious sweet tooth one afternoon last week, and unfortunately I discovered a cadbury egg hidden under our bedside table while searching for my phone charger. I just pretended it hadn't been there since Easter and ate the whole thing. It was fabulous, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

• I also like to pretend that McDonalds is good for me. In fact, I ate there this afternoon, despite the fact that I'll probably have to weigh in again in the morning.

• A few nights ago, I was enjoying a little ice cream for dessert, but halfway through I realized I had gotten a little overzealous with the scooper and had too much in my bowl. Not a problem. I just pretended that my prenatal vitamin was hidden somewhere in the bottom of the bowl and ate the whole thing in a matter of minutes. Safety first.

• I also like to pretend that a magical house elf will take care of the laundry and general cleaning that needs to be done around the house if I just leave it long enough. So far, that one hasn't worked out to well, but at least my imagination is in full swing.

Ok, I seriously have to go now. Jack came home and scared the snake away, so it's safe to go to my car now. I still have to install the car seat and put the stroller together. I'm going to try to post some pictures of the nursery tonight before bedtime.

Trapped

I have so many things to do today to get ready for SB's arrival tomorrow. However, I just tried to leave my house, and I almost died. I walked out the front door like always, headed to my car. I got all the way down the steps before I realized that at the bottom, just 2 steps away on the sidewalk was a giant black and yellow snake. I froze, then ran.

For the record, I'm completely terrified of snakes. I watched it from the safety of my living room window, and it slithered into the monkey grass surrounding the sidewalk, then I saw it's ugly head peeking over our front porch, watching me, taunting me, daring me to open the front door. It looked like it was very much ready to pounce on me.

AHHHHHHHHHH!

I'm scared to leave the house now, because who knows where it's hiding now, waiting for me, no doubt. If anyone out there isn't too busy, I need some help over here.

Keeping Hip to the Abbrevs

In an attempt to clue in my new readers, I thought I'd hip you newbies to some of the abbrevs. (that's an abbreviation for abbreviations.) I feel this is necessary after reading through some of your comments. Apologies to Laren, who felt especially left out today.

First of all, and most importantly, RBF stands for Root Beer Float, a staple in my pregnancy diet. It all started with a mass advertising campaign by Sonic, who offered their RBFs for only $.99! A steal by any standards. Their ad campaign was extremely effective; I probably contributed to about half to two-thirds of their RBF profits.

Also, thanks to a tip from Possum, I also regularly enjoy custard RBFs from Bops. I also keep a 2 liter of A&W handy as well as plenty of vanilla ice cream in case I need an emergency fix. Jack didn't believe me one day when he called and asked where I was and I told him I was on a beer run.

I thought everyone was familiar with SBTB, which obviously stands for Saved By the Bell, the best TV show EVER, except for possibly Murry (Maury Povich), until Jack asked me today what sbtb stood for. I feel as though I have truly failed as a wife, when my own husband doesn't even know sbtb. So now he does. and so do you.

I've also been known to use various pseudonymns for my never-ending bout with heartburn. It's also known as DV (devil's vomit) and the only cure, besides more cowbell, is Mylanta, aka, CWP (chalky white power). For more information, please see Heartburn Hotel.

On a brighter note, I've recently been presented with a clever new way to enjoy my CWP. I put it in the refrigerator, and when the DV hits, I pull out a shot glass, decorate it with chocolate syrup, then pour myself an icy cold shot of CWP and down it like a mudslide. MMMMM. deelish.

I think that just about covers it; however, please feel free to inquire if you're left confused. But don't blame me if I chew you out for not being up to date on the latest abbrevs. Just try and keep up.

ps: obviously, SB stands for Sarah Beth (my fetus). If you don't know that by now, you're hopeless.

It's the Final Countdown

Yesterday was labor day, but no labor for me. I stayed mostly on the couch due to a headache, slightly increased blood pressure and pure exhaustion. While SB enjoyed her nightly after dinner dance, I tried to get some rest.

But no rest for the weary. After not sleeping at all last night, I saw the doctor this morning. He reassured me that I do not have toxemia, even though I had been experiencing several of the common symptoms. It was a huge relief. I was sure he was going to send me to the hospital this morning. Instead, he scheduled an induction for Thursday morning.

That's right, people. SB is on the way. If that stubborn little stinker hasn't ejected herself from my uterus by Thursday at 7 am, we're sending the pitocin in after her. So her days are numbered.

She was brutal this weekend, not so much with the incessant kickboxing like before, but she has started a new yoga routine in which she slowly stretches herself out, pushing as hard as she can with her foot against my upper left side whilst extending her fist into my lower right half. It's terribly uncomfortable and quite painful at times.

I'll be so glad when Thursday arrives. I really didn't want to induce, but I also really don't want to get toxemia. I've heard it's no fun.

Although I don't recall any "nesting" instincts ever kicking in, my house is clean and the laundry is up to date. I just need Jack to hang one final shelf in SB's room and I think we'll be ready.

Time for an RBF. I'll keep you guys posted.

No...

She's still not here yet. Heather, I also thought that this weekend would be a wonderful time for her to make her appearance. However, I still have hope. Tomorrow is Labor Day. How appropriate, no? I've been pushing hard all day, and I even made up a poem last night whilst not sleeping for when she does decide to be born. *Disclaimer* It's not totally original; I adapted it from a popular lullaby.

Rockabye baby, still in the womb
Nine long months, your birth it did loom
But when my water breaks, the baby will fall
And out will come SB, placenta and all

I went to the doctor on Friday and had a few warning signs of toxemia. He said he felt like I would be fine to wait another week, but he would send me to the hospital if I wanted to go, and we could induce labor. What was I thinking when I said no?? I go back on Thursday, and while I am SURE that she will be here before then, if she isn't, I'm gonna man up and take the pitocin then. So I feel much relief knowing that if she doesn't come on her own this week, we're going in after her on Thursday. Hooray!