Monday

I've had a pretty good week as far as sickness goes, so it surprised me this morning that I felt so very terrible. "The baby is growing" as we always say.

Morgan did pretty well in the morning with me laying on the couch. But she made her annoyance known later on in the day. Specifically almost every time I went in the bathroom to, uh, "grow a baby". The first time I was in the bathroom, she was utterly in tears because I wouldn't pay attention to her trying to get her shirt off. Seriously. I couldn't even talk but that didn't stop her end of the dialogue. :)

And she made up some other excuse for the another time I was in the bathroom. Probably something about snacks. Crazy kid.

Later that day I was trying to rest and thought SHE was resting as well. Apparently she had been playing in the back yard. I yelled at her for that one. I was scared and not thinking and not feeling well. Bad mommy.

So tonight my dear husband will come home and promised to take her biking. I will rest and grow this baby. And we'll have a talk with our dear daughter about how much we love her and don't want her to go out of the house without us.

I wish this was one of those feel-good posts, but the truth is that I wasn't the Mom I had hoped to be, got nothing done and feel like I deserve a "D" on my report card.

I need strength, friends.

Wedding

Last night my husband and I went to a really fantastic wedding. I'd go so far as to say that the wedding was perfect, but that might give visions of pomp and circumstance. It wasn't that at all.

Don't get me wrong-- It was classy. The bride and groom were gorgeous and brilliant. The wedding party and family exhibited the perfect amount of decorum and genuine joy. The cake was great.

But there was a spirit there of life and giddyness and oh-what's-the-word... "down-earthiness" that some weddings lack.

I left this wedding feeling better for going to it... I actually felt changed.

It probably didn't help that they played an amazing slideshow of the bride and groom as they grew up. Dan and I choked back emotions as we watched and mentally plugged in our own daughter's image for the bride's photos. She's only 4, but it was as if we married her off last night.

And in the holyness of those moments, I realized that not a lot else mattered. They didn't show photos in this slideshow of the moms looking harassed after a long day of watching their 4-year old. There were no yelling match photos or cross-looking toddlers. Only the most treasured photos made the cut. The ones that mattered.

This morning (the morning after said wedding) Morgan entered my bedroom and was already dressed for church; she just needed a little help with the zipper. I winced at the early hour, but was impressed that she dressed herself. I zippered the remainder of her dress with--if it's possible-- a little more patience? meaning? love?

I very much felt like that moment in It's a Wonderful Life where Jimmy Stewart gets a second chance at life and thankfulness and runs home to his family for another go at living and loving.

I tried to go back to sleep after the zipper request but she brought me my robe and told me that I had to see the Lego creation she made this morning. I obliged. How could I not? The kid brought me my heavy terry cloth robe which looked to be some effort. *melt*

I suppose the rest of this post should include some amazing stories about all the quality time I spent with Morgan today. That is not the case, but I have a good excuse: The baby is growing. And if you're at all familiar with that phrase in our house, then you know that I spent a good deal of time in bed.

However, every time that perky child of mine came in to peak on me today, I managed a smile, a small conversation and some very, very fond thoughts.

Meanwhile, congrats to the happy couple... I look forward to hearing their family stories in the future.

A Letter

Dear Petri Dish Love Child,

Thank you very much for letting me eat watermelon today.

And some popcorn tonight tasted so, so good. Amazing, actually.

I'm sorry about that cheese incident this morning. You made yourself perfectly clear. All morning.

Keep growin', kid!

Love, Your Momma

Big Sister Talk

Morgan is wrapping her brain around being a big sister.

This past Sunday she drew a p-r-e-c-i-o-u-s picture of me holding a baby with a big sister standing by.

She does have a few funny ideas about the role. Unfortunately, Veg*gie Tales did her wrong. She watched the episode of Moses, the one where big sister Miriam raises the baby Moses because the mother and father are slaves. (It may be culturally accurate, the Bible doesn't say.) Anyway, Morgan has this idea that Dan and I are going to leave her home alone with the baby to raise it.

We don't watch that episode anymore.

She's already starting to bring up the baby in other ways, too. A while ago we were disciplining her for being outside without telling us. We explained that we were afraid and that if she's going to be a big sister, she needs to set an example. Morgan ran with that one, "And if MY SISTER goes outside and DOESN'T TELL YOU, then she's going to be in a time out like me." She was very stern.

The little sister, er, sibling, is already being slotted for disciplinary measures. Pre-birth. Now THAT's preparedness.

The best part about Morgan, though, is that her heart is in the right place. Just this week she felt compelled to pray for a booboo on my leg. The prayer went something like this: "Dear Jesus, we pray that Mommy's booboo will get better. And we pray that the baby will be safe from harm. And that it will be born."

Ugh. This kid knows how to make a Momma's heart melt.

So there you have it: Morgan's take on being a big sister.

Laughing... But wait... there's more...

Update on Contractors:

The SPRINKLER guys came today but brought the wrong equipment.

The FILTER BRACKETS came in today at the A/C place. Something told me to open the box and make sure they were correct. The bracket was the right one. The quantity however, was lacking by at least 4 or 5. I'm still without the brackets.

Now... I'd like to add the following disclaimer: I'm not really mad at all these happenings because this is what happens with contractors 90% of the time I use them. I'm pretty used to it. By about the 5th time, if it isn't right, I stop using them. Isn't it funny?

But this is why my friend Steph calls us "Home Moaners". hahaha

On a BRIGHTER note... the baby's heartbeat is in the 150 range. Beautiful music. Beautiful.

Contractors

I can relate to Jenni, who has had a slew of house maintenance of late. Let me give you the low-down:

BTW--- Friends who have recently purchased a house in the past 4 weeks and are still blissful about their purchase are NOT allowed to read this. Forbidden. *wink*

1. ROOF. Leaking. Finally got roofer to call me back. Coming in a few weeks.

2. BIRDS. In attic. Keeping people awake. Called critter control person but had to cancel because roofer said that there are THIRTEEN unprotected air vents which the birds are using as revolving doors. No use in having critter control guy scare off birds if they have 13 other entrances. We'll leave that to the roofer.

3. PHONE. Call waiting wasn't working. So far three AT*T contractors have been out to fix parts of the line. Still not sure if it works.

4. CABLE. Line cut when yahoo from AT*T "fixed" our phone line. Called C*mcast.

5. FURNACE FAN. Sucked up the filter, shredded it and threatened to cost us an entire new furnace. Got new filter.

6. FILTER BRACKETS. Apparently these would have kept furnace filter from being sucked into fan motor. We ordered them last week from AC guy. He called today to say that *ahem* somehow they were never ordered. I finally turned the air on anyway.

7. SPRINKLER SYSTEM. This was a splurge. We don't use our system regularly but apparently the last owners didn't use it at all, so we had to get a new computer system thingy. That IS the technical name. The sprinkler guys came out once, then twice. They're coming out again tomorrow. Third time is a charm, we hope.

SALE

For those of you with men who need polos, Ed*die Ba*uer is having their yearly sale. I'm talking $15 polos. And if you have a hubby who wears TALL sizes, there are still a lot left. Yippee!

And for those of you ladies who need some stuff as well, check it out!

Backup!

I got backup! Tomorrow the grandparents are marching into town to help with the squirt. Dan is a bit out of pocket lately, so they generously offered to enjoy countless stories, have someone pilfer things from their suitcases and question why their toothbrush is wet when they haven't used it yet.

Okay, okay... they didn't agree exactly to those terms, but as far as I'm concerned, they agreed to watch Morgan which pretty much assumes that whatever they bring into this house is fair game.

My Bose Sounddock would disagree, but it's still recovering from the orange marker my daughter drew all over its speakers yesterday. And, in answer to your question, yes, that does seem a bit juvenile for a FOUR year old to be doing. Which is why backup is coming.

Also, in other news, I have been on my feet for about 5 days now! I'm not eating a lot of normal food yet. And strangely, my stomach has somewhat shrunk in recent months, which you wouldn't know from the weight I've put on. My mouth says, "More! More!" but le stomach says, "Ain't no way, baby!" But... the point is... there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Additionally, the Associated Press called and wanted to do a story with me on how to gain weight while eating mostly processed food. Apparently, it's pretty abnormal to gain weight on said diet. *wink, wink*

Girl Talk

Yesterday I had an amazing conversation with my sister, Noel. Normally we bombard each other with girl talk: friends we love, friends we struggle with, good recipes, husband talk, outfits that went horribly wrong, etc. Yesterday wasn't much of an exception, (except) that when she asked what was shaking down in the Dykstra household, I had to think a moment.

It's not that I didn't have news. I had plenty. It's mostly that the news that rose to the surface of my mind first was the juicy kind that borders on gossip, the kind of news that doesn't always bring out the best in others or bring out the best in life and gives me that sour milk taste in my mouth after saying it. Not all the news was gossip, per se, but just, you know... negative stuff.

My artistic roots normally thrive on the dark, deep meanings of life, but I didn't want to talk about these things. I didn't want to wrestle with deep cultural issues or analyze words said in haste. I didn't want to express disappointment or talk about my silly sickness. I didn't want to give voice to the not-so-great thoughts in my head that might put them in hers. I wanted those thoughts to vanish.

So for a few moments as I was searching my mind for something to tell her, I was honestly struggling with what to say. At first I cobbled together a few lame stories about, oh-I-can't-remember... Dan's travels or a few quasi-interesting Morgan stories. But then, as she told me about my funny nephew and his 4-year old birthday party, the conversation started flowing. It trickled at first, but then we were nearly interrupting each other with topic tennis, laughing at human behavior and the world of children.

Eventually we talked about a few issues with life, but they weren't dwelled upon. We didn't really gloss over them, just kind of stripped them of their sting and left them in Someone's hands who are far greater.

Today there will be too much mail for my liking. But there will also be fun blogs to read.

There will be smells that send my pregnancy schnoz to the moon. But there will also be cupcakes.

And, most likely, the gas prices won't drop the $2.00 a gallon I'd like them to. I'll still drive.

If I'm brave, I'll strain out the good from the not-good and see a world worth enjoying. It may come as a trickle at first, but there's bound to be a flood of good.

How Pregnant Women are Like Babies

1. They spit up. A lot.

2. Buddha bellies.

3. Gastrointestinal fun. 'Nuff said.

4. Their appetite changes daily.

5. They sleep a lot.

6. People talk to them as if they're "slow".

7. Can't walk too well. Or at all.

8. Tinkle, tinkle little star.

9. Moody, moody, moody.

10. They like to be held.

11. They wake up throughout the night.

12. Funny belly buttons.

13. Pudgy faces.

14. People like to poke them a lot. In the tummy.

15. People talk to them in higher octaves.

16. Fat. Feet.

17. Gases.

18. Hair is thicker at first and then falls out.

19. Clothes become too small every 2-3 months.

20. Can't do much. :)

Tongue Baby

So after writing about Morgan's raspberries, I was on YouTube and found this video which made me giggle. I have no idea who this kid is, but she is adorable.

And, if my mommy-radar isn't mistaken, it seems to me that this little one is watching Baby E*nstein. Just a hunch.

Funny Story

Last Friday I went to the closing ceremony of Morgan's week at Vacation Bible School.
Translation: 10,000 kids yelling, singing and craning their necks to see their parents in a crowded auditorium.

I was sitting in the back row with Beth, whose children also went to this week of school.
During their singing time, I noticed that Morgan was craning her neck but couldn't see me.

I snuck up behind her between songs, tugged at her clothes (somewhat scaring her) and said, "Morgan! I'm in the back seat and I'm watching you!"

But I think she heard this: "Morgan Kay! I am in the back row and I am WATCHING you, girl. Be good."

I went back to my seat and waved at her.

Her eyes found mine. And unlike the 9,000 other children who actually waved furiously to their parents in delight, she stuck out her tongue and starting spitting raspberries. Her brow was furrowed and she was ticked.

Strange.

I wave again and smiled broadly.

More spitting.

I gave her two thumbs up and mouthed "I'm proud of you!"

The result was the same: ticked, ticked, ticked.

I gave up in case people started to connect the spitting child with me. Plus, some kids up front were probably getting showered.

As I stood next to Beth, coveting the fact that her twin boys were actually glad to see their mother and waving at her, I just had to laugh. Of course I would have the one weirdo child who did not want to wave to their parent.

I didn't even try to analyze this behavior. After the show, she was happy to see me.

I'm SO glad I'm having another child.

Bath and B*dy W*rks

Holy Sale, Batman! 75% off sale at Bath & B*dy W*rks... You can get a boat load for $10!

Thanks

Today for lunch I ate half a sub sandwich from Subway. Beth suggested that we go on our way back from Vacation Bible School. I'm so glad that she did.

There was Italian bread.

And turkey.

A bit of provolone.

And some green pepper slices.

As I crunched on the cold green pepper slices, I nearly wept. It's one of the first vegetables I've had in 8 weeks. A non-carb. Heavenly.

I wanted to eat gallons of them, but I knew better than to overdo it. Better introduce them to my system slowly, like reuniting with an old friend.

Later today, I had some watermelon.

Thank you, Beth.

Summer List

In honor of Kris who started this whole shebang:

I promise to party as soon as I kick this sickness thing.

Friends over.
Lotsa food. Good food.
Music.
Celebrating life.

I promise to try to start seeing things through Morgan's eyes...

To see her new "redecorating" behavior as a cry for attention

I promise to kiss my husband as soon as I am able.

I miss your kisses, babe! Soon you won't smell like onions to me anymore. Silly pregnancy hormones.

I promise to not worry about the house this summer.

For all I care, this house can update, decorate and maintain itself.
I do, however, promise to maintain it within reason. (i.e.-- the leaky roof situation we currently have)

Momma Learns

Yesterday Morgan and I had a break-through in our relationship: hair braids.

Lately we've had a somewhat civil relationship. It hasn't been particularly fun and Mommy gets sick a lot so I'm unreliable...at least in her world.

Somewhere in the mix of butting heads I was sitting on her bed braiding her hair. It was her first day wearing braids. One braid wasn't enough. Plus, Morgan is a very picky, albeit unpaying salon customer. I braided little braids on the side, top and back of her hair. I rebraided. In the end she decided on three braids.

Previous to this hair-braiding session, I had had a quasi-successful rest. I woke up a bit on the tired side because Morgan found that the wind caught her bedroom door beautifully. It must have slammed shut 20 times. I bid my nap farewell. I went to her room.

I guess the initial idea to braid her hair was her idea, but the notion of holding her down by her hair in caveman fashion did appeal to me as well. Remember, I was tired. Tired= grumpy.

After braiding her hair, Morgan lay down on her bed. I was talking to Debbie at the time, so I didn't notice when Morgan's breathing changed to soft little puffs of air. She was asleep. At last.

I don't think I'll be able to pull the hair braiding= child sleeping stunt every day, but I do think Morgan just needed a little TLC from her momma.

Noted.

Fourth

One of my favorite holidays is approaching: Fourth of July.

I just love it. The Americana. The celebration. The hoopla. Fireworks.

It's a great big birthday party for every American.

Last year I made a sinful cake: yellow cake with chocolate buttercream frosting. REAL buttercream frosting. Butter. And cream.

Then we went to see fireworks. We were new to the neighborhood so we didn't know quite where to go. But then we saw the lights just a few blocks away. They had fireworks in our neighborhood! We piled in the car and went to watch them a block away.

We didn't notice that not many people attended the fireworks. We did notice the police car that pulled up quickly. Suddenly young people were scampering everywhere. The fireworks stopped. Dan and I gave each other that raised-eyebrow look, started the car unsuspiciously and drove away. I guess the fireworks were rather small for a town this big.

This year I bought some patriotic bunting.
I also bought a plastic American flag to hang on the window. Morgan keeps calling it the "Irish flag" but we'll straighten her out. I taught her about the 50 stars and we counted the stripes. I laughed deviously as I remembered that Maryland is one of the 13 original colonies, thus the reason for the 13 stripes.

I don't know what we'll do this year, but I bought some lightsticks and intend on having some fun.

Backup

I'm calling in backup.

You'd think I had it made. I have an ANGEL who comes to help me everyday: Debbie. She cleans, she watches Morgan... she does errands. She's amazing.

But...

She leaves in the early afternoon every day.

Last week my husband was out of town.

Morgan made it clear whenever I was trying to rest that she had other plans:

The bathroom endured a toothpaste makeover while I was unawares.

The "hope" room was redecorated with lip gloss. On the carpet. And on the walls. Greasy little handprints.

The guest room was "rescented" when a certain darling took the lavender reed infuser and used the reeds to write oil messages on the chalkboard.

Craft supplies are found dumped in little piles around the house in strange and wonderful places.

And since her mother wasn't able to feed her fast enough, Morgan found the watermelon slices in the fridge and took scoops and bites out of each piece. It was an act of watermelon territorialism.

It's hard to rest when you know that someone is redecorating the house in unconventional ways.

And I found that TV wasn't quite the babysitter it used to be. Lost its sticking power.

My in-laws offered to come next week while the hubby is out of town.

Yes, yes and again, yes.

Ten Great Sounds

10. Getting a call back from a contractor! (Hallelujah Chorus!)

9. The first lawnmowing of the season. Spring has come!

8. The sound of wrapping paper being torn off a gift.

7. Listening to a loved one laugh heartily during a movie.

6. A late summer rain when you really, really need it.

5. The clink of glassware, the scrape of utensils against plates at Thanksgiving.

4. The sound of a huge bag of M&Ms being poured into a bowl. Something about that sound... Chocolate rain?

3. Ocean waves lapping. Ahhhhhhhhh.

2. Little children singing.

1. Hearing a child giggle, truly giggle.

Morganisms

Morgan: "Mom, I want to play with my friend E some more. I want to play a lot longer over there."

Emily: "Like forever?"

Morgan: (Delighted with my answer) "Yeah, forever."

Emily: "Okay, I'll call her Mom up right now and see if she can adopt you so you can stay there forever."

Morgan didn't budge or bat an eye. She looked happy at my statement. So I played along. I pretended to call E's mother.

Emily: "Oh, hi, Kathi... can Morgan stay with you forever? Can you adopt her?" (I cupped the phone receiver and told Morgan that she said yes as long as Morgan slept outside.) "Is that okay if you sleep outside, Morgan?"

Morgan: "Oh, yes! I have a sleeping bag!"

Groan. Plan. Backfiring. Retreat! Retreat!

Emily: "Oh wait... she says that she thinks I'll miss you too much. You have to stay with me."

Whew!

Is it just me or is it disturbing that my child was ready to leave me and her father forever? I'm sure I did this to my parents, but only when I was mad at them. :)

Phone Fritz

HI, Friends-

Our call waiting has been on the fritz. If you've called and think I'm rude b/c I haven't called you back, chances are:

1. I'm not feeling well enough to call back

or

2. It's the silly phone system.

Apparently people are able to leave messages but my indicator doesn't tell me that I've been phoned.

Emailing may be a better option. :)

Happy Father's Day, Dan!

"I Didn't Like My New Toothpaste, Mom."

Evidently.

SOS

I need help. It's a mothering issue.

When you tell your child, "(Here is the answer to your request)" and they keep bringing up other alternatives again and again or not accepting your answer, what do you do? More importantly, how do you convey to your child that this is your FINAL answer?

Sometimes I feel like such a harsh mother. I try not to say "NO" to everything and when the answer is "NO", I try to say it in such a way that it doesn't feel like a "NO". (Ex: "I'd love to go to the pool, Morgan, but right now it's our quiet time.")

However, sometimes a final "I'm sorry, no" needs to be said.

Additionally, it seems that our culture is not too accepting of saying the word "no" even once in a while.

__________________________________

Please note: There are a lot of wonderful qualities about my daughter; I'm not saying this to make her look badly. I'd just like to know how others address this issue which I've seen in my child and others.

I'm having flashbacks to my childhood when I kept doing this to my mother. :)

Morganisms

Morgan: "Look, Mom! I have nipples! Just like Daddy!"

______________________________

A song by Morgan. She got her lyrics from her mother:

"Please don't bring it up again. Please don't bring up again." Sung sweetly and innocently. And repetitively.

______________________________

Morgan: "Mom, how is that baby going to come out of you?"

Emily: (Thinking as fast as I can...) "Um, the baby comes out from between Mommy's legs."

Morgan starts giggling.

Morgan: "You mean you potty the baby out?"

Lovely. Any suggestions from Mommy and Daddy world out there? Oh, and I don't like the words "v*gina", etc.

Today

I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself today and it was totally food related.

I even dreamt of artichokes last night and woke up with a happy feeling.

But today I made a quick run to Dominick*s to pick up some, um, Whipped Cream. For my dinner. *Sheepish smile here*

And I picked up some mac 'n cheese for Morgan for dinner. And canned beans. Dinner of Champions.

As I drove home from the store, I saw the Pl*anned Parentho*od clinic right next door. People were protesting. A young woman walked in the building not giving eye contact to the group.

Without warning, I starting sobbing. It wasn't pretty. I wept the quick, guttural, heaving sort of sobs that seem to come up from nowhere but, in actuality, are born from the deepest loves and fears I hold deep inside.

I rubbed my belly.

Morgan misunderstood; she asked why I was laughing.

"Mommy wasn't laughing."

She asked why I was crying. I was driving and couldn't think of what to say.

"I just can't tell you, Morgan."

Seal It, Baby

This post will probably not trip the trigger of the average domestic person.

However, if you, like me, caulked the bijeebees out of every tile, counter and floor in order to sell your house, then this little marvel will get your heart a pumpin'. (I have my Realtor to thank for this new, quasi-addiction.)

Caulk Singles.

I know... it sounds a little strange, right?

But picture this: You're in your bathroom brushing your teeth and you notice that your sink's seal job has seen better days. You're not exactly game for loading the caulk gun with all manner of goo when only a dab will do ya.

Enter Caulk Singles. Ta da.

I haven't used them (yet, yet) but already have my eye on the edges of my tubs one day.

You may not even know you need them, but when that day comes, my friends, you will find joy, I'm sure.

Meanwhile, if you keep it on hand just for fun, you may want to keep it away from, say, anything that looks like toothpaste. Just a hunch.

Morganisms

Emily: "Morgan, please don't show your underwear. Be a lady."

Morgan: "Oh, only GROWNUPS show their underwear?"

Emily: *gulp "Um, no. Grownups do not show their underwear, either."

She didn't look convinced.

Emily: "Um, if you're referring to me in the morning, that's just because you walk in my room. I'm not TRYING to show you anything."

__________________________

Morgan: "MOM! MOM! Do you need an Agwaglobe?"

Emily: "What?"

Morgan: "An Aqwaglobe! It waters your plants for you."

Emily: "Oh, you just saw an ad on TV? Here, let's rewind (thanks, TIVO) and I'll take a look at it."

(Took a look and sure enough... there's a device that waters plants for you. It's called an Aqu*aGlobe, though.)

Emily: "How do I buy it?"

Morgan: "Well, first you have to have lots of money. At least 4 dollars. And then it comes to you."

Aww.... that's great, sweetie. Keep thinking that 4 bucks is a lot of money and we'll be in good shape.

Compost Clothes

My sister, Noel, sent me a wonderful gift in the mail: a huge box of maternity clothes that she and a friend wanted to donate to my cause. There must have been 20 shirts and 20 shorts in the box. She's so generous.

She sent the box a week or so ago. You'd think that a grateful person would open the box furiously and hurriedly try everyone on to see how it fit.

I don't know what my problem is. I opened the box but I froze after taking out the clothes. I'm getting too large for my normal clothes, but I couldn't bring myself to don the maternal garb.

Today I managed to go through the pile and sort out what I could wear. Then I took out all my "normal" clothes from my drawers and replaced them with the, er, tent clothes.

I went to my closet to get my Rubberma*id storage bin of shame. Do you have one of those? It's the I-can't-wear-these-jeans-anymore-but-by-golly-I-will-one-day box. Essentially it's the plastic bin of lies I keep in my closet. And for ten bucks, it can hold a lotta vanity. At least I can put a lid on it and generally not think about it.

I opened the box to find the bikini I wore on my honeymoon at the very bottom. Bikini. Ha. Haven't worn one of those since the whole "I do" session. It looked smaller than I remembered it... I think I might be able to wear it as an eye-patch if I'm ever in a pinch.

Then I found the Eddie Bauer skinny jeans I was able to wear pre-Morgan. But never post-Morgan. They leared at me.

I gingerly lay my winter clothes on top (no guilt there, turtlenecks!), but the summer garb did balk a bit as I closed the lid. Sorry, capris... I gots no more room in my drawers-- a statement that works both literally and figuratively.

After I cinched the lid on tightly, I stood back and laughed at my virtual compost-pile of clothes... the older stuff on the bottom, which-- I'll be honest-- will probably rot before real compost because there's no way in this decade I'll be able to fit in those sexy jeans again. And then the mounds of other clothes on top. I hope the clothes on top don't start asking the bikini how long she was there because they might rise up and revolt... let the occasional moth take a bite or let their colors fade. I don't know.

The point, however, is that I did it. I accepted my new body-- this funny, lumpy, wonderful baby-growing machine. I bit the bullet and donned a new shirt today and you know what? I'm pretty cute. I'll grow into this new role eventually.

Meanwhile, don't tell my compost bin about my new 'drobe. I'm coming back. Eventually.

________________________________

Post Script: To my well-meaning friends who might say some dribble about "you're not fat" or "it's for a good cause", please refrain. At heart I'm a cynic and I love to say things which give the reader a smirk or two.

If, however, you'd like to share your bin o' shame or the "how I grew to love my big, fat, pregnant body" stories, I'm game. I'm game.

Can't Wait to Eat List

1. Avocados

2. Lettuce... crunchy, crisp, Romaine lettuce

3. Mexican Food

4. Crab Cakes

5. Chinese Food

6. Thai Food-- P.F. Chang's Lemon Scallops are amazing-- ask my friends Sara and Cathi-- I order them every New Year's

7. Pizza... Any pizza, but then... California Pizza Kitchen's Tandoori Chicken Pizza is yummers

8. Hamburgers... ugh... the word almost literally makes me gag right now

9. Spaghetti with lotsa sauce

10. Chips and Dips

Food I probably won't eat for a year once I get over this sickness:
Onions, potatoes, ice cream and crackers

Celebrity Swoon

A long, long time ago, way before there was a Morgan in our life, Dan and I used to do things like, oh-I-don't-know... travel to see friends.

One fair weekend we went to visit our friends Jon and Katie in NY. I had never really been, so I was completely gaga wherever we went.

After church on Sunday, Katie took Dan and I to this fun bistro/breakfast place in Manhattan. We ate outside and I continued to gawk like the tourist that I was. At one point, I distinctly remember saying, "Everyone here is so hot. Everyone looks like a celebrity. That guy next to us inside the restaurant looks like Ethan Hawke."

Dan took a look. "That IS Ethan Hawke, Emily. And there is Uma, too." (This is before they broke up.)

I was completely star struck. Wow. The only celebrities I remember seeing until then were like, Bob Dole, who came to our church once. It was a LOT more cool to see an actual celebrity who was in the movies. No offense, Mr. Dole.

After breakfast, I went to the ladies room. The bathroom situation was grim in this little bistro: one potty for each gender. I was waiting for mine to open when I noticed that Ethan Hawke was standing next to me waiting for the other bathroom. I remember thinking, "Try to be cool. Don't ask for anything. Leave the guy alone. Pretend like he's an ordinary guy." I may have smiled some goofy grin at him.

The rest of the day I retold the story, which, if Dan is honest, became old after the 2nd time I told it, mostly because I didn't leave out ANY detail and told the story like a gushy-motor-mouthed-junior-high-girl-who-just-got-a-smile-from-a-cute-guy.

So there you have it. I met a celebrity. Kind of. Seven years ago.

Still swooning.

Nausea Code

If Dan wants to know how my day was with nausea:

1. Good= Nothing to speak of

2. Medium= Teetering on the fence of Vomitville, but not too bad

3. "The Baby is Growing"= Oh my land, I'm so sick I can see through time.

Morgan Love

Okay, it's official. I love my kid. I do.

This past week my mother asked me why I didn't have Morgan spend a week at a grandparent's house. She thought maybe I could deal with my sickness better. But the truth is that Morgan keeps me sane. She gives me a reason to get up in the morning, even if she does bark, "Mom! I lost my Baby Cinderella doll!" Every. Morning.

I do a fair amount of shuffling Morgan around from friends, neighbors and family these days, but for the most part, this kiddo is with me.

The other day I was laying on the couch "playing" a Cran*ium game with her. Somehow I fell asleep and woke up to Morgan lugging my TOOL BOX out and trying to disassemble the new game. That definitely kept me in the game. She's better than caffeinated coffee. Hellooo, Phillips screwdriver in the hands of a 4-year old.

Additionally, the game "Cari*boo", came with 6 rubber balls which are essential to the game. Yesterday morning, Dan and I heard much giggling downstairs and some gentle clunking sounds. Six rubber balls have now become three rubber balls. I wish I had spent the $16 for the game on two bucks worth of rubber balls. But I knew that already, didn't I? I mean, what game lasts more than a year without losing some VITAL piece? *sigh* Shouldn't Hasbro and Fisher Price include EXTRA playing pieces? I mean, suits come with extra buttons. Get on the ball, folks!

This evening, I said goodnight to my looney kid and noticed that she was wearing a slightly too-small tank top with a random summer skirt. Whatever. It's like having Punky Brewster for offspring. I cringe at her zany fashion style but, like I said, I love her to pieces.

So thank you, God, for Morgan.
Thank you for her way of "lighting up" when I offer her chocolate chips.
Thank you for the way she thinks her bum is fun to shake.
And thank you for the joy she brings us, even though the soiled carpet and colored walls would disagree.

She's great.

Face it

Yesterday we had our last fertility doc appt. It was surprisingly celebratory. In the world of fertility docs, apparently 12 weeks is considered "full term". They won't say "full term", but my ob-gyn doc gave me the scoop and told me that that's what they say at doctor parties.

My ob-gyn was right. Yesterday, my fertility doc said "Congratulations!" and smiled largely. Eight weeks ago, she would hardly smile and was very "professional". I can understand.

What's more, something really special happened at the ultrasound. We saw the baby's face. I saw the little nose, some budding lips and eyelids. It was the first time since I've been pregnant that... forgive me for saying this... that I've had a fond thought for this little one. Before it looked like a blob on a screen and I had a hard time wrapping my brain around the actuality of it all.

I'm not the only one... Morgan drew a picture of the baby the other day. It was a black and white painting and the baby had no face. She's used to seeing our ultrasound "blob" photos, too. I asked her where the face was and she said that "it hasn't grown one yet".

But there it was. A face. Pretty amazing.

Below is an approximate image of what a 3D would look like of it... it's from babycenter.com.

Sanity in the Summertime

Try the Slime recipe... very interesting...



Fun things to do with agriculture. It's edutainment, baby.



I remember my Mom had a book called "Sanity in the Summertime" laying around the house a lot. Here's another book like it.

And, as usual, I'm all about YOUR suggestions, too.

Diary of a Fry Freak

What is my problem? Am I a Mastercard commercial waiting to happen?

I am willing to drive approximately 700 miles in the name of seeing family, going to the beach and reliving childhood memories. But secretly, I can't stop dreaming/thinking/salivating about Thrasher's French Fries.

They're not soft and mealy, but neither are they hard and undercooked. They're soft with crunch?

They're greasy, but not so much that you can't remember there is a potato in there.

And the cut size is not those cigarette slivers you get you fast food. Neither are they huge steak fries... they're just perfect.

Plus, they're salty. Just enough.

The owners refuse to carry ketchup with them because they are purists. Fries only come with vinegar.
You can only order fries and drinks at this venue. The fries come in three sizes. I love how one reporter described them: "Technically, the fries come in cups -- 16 ounces, 32 ounces and 53 ounces -- but the largest looks suspiciously like a bucket."

Don't get me wrong... I want to see my family and go to the beach and get sand in my bathing suit, but I haven't had these fries in about, gulp, 8 years.

And let me tell ya something... if we end up getting to Ocean City, MD, forget the 16 oz cup, I'm getting the whole shebang.

Gas for the roadtrip: $300
Hotel for the night: $150
Bucket of fries to relive childhood: Priceless

Morganisms

I'm on the phone with a customer. (I do some freelance graphics on the side.) I've given Morgan an entire apple to eat while I'm on the phone, but it wasn't enough.

Morgan: "Excuse me, Mom."

Emily: I'm giving her an index finger "halt" while I continue to sound chipper and try to sound undistracted.

Morgan: "Excuse me, Mom. Excuse me, Mom. Excuse me, Mom..."

Finally, I ask the customer to hold.

Emily: "Morgan, sweetie, I'm on the phone. I'll talk to you in a few minutes, okay?"

Morgan: "But I said 'excuse me'."

And in true, preschool fashion, she proceeded to do what every kid does when their mother is on the phone: She drew on my notes, she twirled my Rolodex and wriggled her little body in the swivel chair next to my big derriere. The phone conversation quickly drew to a close. :)

What is it with kids and phones?

_____________________________________


Morgan: "Mom!!! Mom!!!!" (Morgan was screaming from another room.)

Emily: "What's the matter, Morgan?"

Morgan: "I tooted!"

Lovely. Thanks for sharing.

_____________________________________

Emily: "Want to talk to the baby?

Morgan: "Hi, baby," she says to my stomach.

(pause) "I hope you're a sister."

Is it Summer Yet?

Field Day

There is a school right behind my house.

Today they are having Field Day.

I'm so glad I'm an adult. I was terrible at Field Day.

For pullups, I just dangled on the bar, grunting furiously, but never able to pull myself up.

For races, I always came in last.

For situps, I remember the "President's Challenge" and thinking, "I don't see the President doing these!" (Weak tummy strength.)

But here's the happy thought: No more Field Day. I'm a grown up. Sorry, Kiddos!

Ten Thoughts on Gestation

1. I had a hard time when my friends became pregnant and I could not. I'm giving my friends with fertility trouble the space they need. I hope they find comfort in their journey and that I don't become an irritant to them. More importantly, I hope God grants them their heart's desire.

2. Last week a contractor came to my house and immediately stared at my, er, beer gut. In a moment of pride and fear that he would think me "beer gutty" (why do I care?) I told him I was pregnant. It was awkward. And kind of funny. Like he cared.

3. This week, I think I'm having a boy. Just a guess. Two weeks ago, I would have said girl. Either gender is fine with me.

4. On a lighter note, Morgan said that my belly is getting fat.

5. I'm feeling better in the mornings but get kind of sick at night. What's with these weekly changes in sickness? At least the baby is growing, eh?

6. Holy dreams, Batman. Better than pizza before bedtime. Yikes!

7. I went to church today and it was awesome to be in the congregation again. Does pregnancy brain include "mind drifting"? I kept daydreaming.

8. I stalk people's blogs who have pics of cute babies. Bring on the pics!

9. I think that my total change in life (non-nutritious foods, unkempt house, lack of desire to do anything) will cause my single friends or childless friends to want to tie their tubes. I see the, er, fear in their eyes.

10. Dan will say that either gender is fine with him, too, but last week when Morgan and I were BOTH crying, he said he wouldn't mind some more testosterone in the family. hehe