Be

Did allergy season come early this year? I am in a fog.

And today I realized why: I'm taking the SLEEPY allergy medicine.

I am such a dork.

Laughing... so between my drugs and the pregnancy tiredness, I'm never quite sure when "the wall" will be hit, but when it does, I'm a puddle.

I don't want to be a puddle.

I want to be a mighty wave, whisking laundry effortlessly and donning really cute jewelry in my pregnancy outfits. I want to call people back and fix all their problems with encouraging words or witty sayings. I want to make people dinners and leave it on their doorstep after they've had a hard day.

But this appears the time of life to grow a baby.

Which means being forgetful. Chubby. Mostly tired. A bit crabby. And keeping life simple.

Maybe tomorrow I'll take the right meds. And maybe I won't take two naps. Maybe just one.

But today, I'll just be.

Morgan the Vegetarian

Morgan and I were sitting at a stop light yesterday next to a mack truck filled with cows. 

Emily: "Look at those cows, Morgan!"

Morgan: "Cows give us milk!"

Emily: (Wondering if she knows what else cows give...) "Do we eat cows?"

Morgan: "Noooooo. We only drink milk, Mom." (Said in embarassed-to-be-seen-with-Mom tone.)

Emily: "What animals DO we eat?"

Morgan: "We don't eat animals, Mom. Except for grownups. They eat crabs. That is so weird."

Emily: "What about chickens? Do we eat chickens?"

Morgan: "Yes, but not the cockle-doodle-do kind. We just eat chicken. We eat it for dinner and then we go to bed and then the next day we eat it for dinner again." 

(The conversation had clearly veered from vegetarianism to repetitive chicken-eating.)

I smiled and thought to myself: I gave the "V" talk. Dan can give the animals-we-love-and-eat talk.

Confessions of a Selfish Mother

Today I feel: like being selfish.

This is a great attribute to have as a stay-at-home mother. *wink*

Yesterday was really weird. I was so tired. And it didn't feel like a "pregnancy" tired. So all day when I took naps and popped my iron and protein supplements, nothing was giving me that boost like it normally does.

I drank caffeine and very little happened.

I slept between doing laundry and popping videos in the DVD player for Morgan. She watched a fair bit of TV. Like 6 hours. *gulp*

Then I remembered that this is that wacky time of year: Allergy Season.

Suddenly everything made sense: the body aches, the weird head feeling and the tiredness.

I called my doc who said it was okay to take Benadryl. I anticipated the sleepyness it promised on the box. But apparently it had the opposite effect on me.

Wide awake at 8pm. Little fetus kicking up a storm. (Smile.) 

This morning Morgan got the memo that my body is a little on the worn side because her energy level is twice the normal amount. Or maybe is just seems that way. 

I just want to be alone. With quietness.

I want to be selfish. 

Home Edjumication

This year I decided to do some basic home education with Morgan to prepare her for kindy-garten. Today I had a hard time not laughing at her efforts. 

Sounding out the word "two":

Emily: "Morgan, what sound does the letter 't' make?"

Morgan: "m-m-m-m"

Emily: "No, Sweetie, that's 'm'. What does 't' sound like?"

Morgan: "hu-hu-hu"

Emily: "C'mon, honey, you know this one..."

And then Morgan started making this weird combination of sounds that I can only liken to a steam engine leaving a station. Something like this: "Pshttsshht." 

Her look was completely serious. I stifled laughter. 

Emily: "No, Morgan. 'T' makes a 't-t-t' sound."

Care to guess what the "w" sounded like?

_____________________

We're also learning how to recite and spell her home address. After having her trace the numbers and letter of our street address, I had her write them freehand on her own paper. This is the dialogue that followed:

Morgan: "Mom, there's tape in the way of this 'c' so I'm just going to make it a small 'c' and not a big 'c'."

Emily: (Trying to keep it fun for a first try...) "Okay, sweetie."

Morgan: "And I'm not going to do small letters. I don't want to. I only want to do big letters."

Emily: "Follow the example I gave you, Sweetie."

Morgan: "I just want to do what I want to do," she said confidently as she drew her letters with little swirls and curly-ques inside them. Very girly. And a bit unreadable.

And then, with lightning speed, I found that she had taken her kiddie scissors and cut up the address into pieces and taped them on the wall. Proudly.

And that's when this momma decided it was time to call it a morning. :)

Teachers deserve SO much praise.

New School Year Prayer

Dear God,

As I think about the upcoming weeks, I'm a bit overwhelmed. 

I'm coming to you about it because I don't want to lose you in the routine.

There are carpools to arrange, new classes to join and lunches to make.

And somewhere in between doctor visits and bringing in the class snacks I need to keep my car filled with gas, keep my family fed and keep at least some clean clothes in their drawers.

It doesn't feel like there is a lot of room for error. Or contemplation. 

Or You.

Please give me the strength to be still before you and hear Your voice each day. 

Please give me the courage to let my laundry suffer a  little neglect so I can anchor myself in You. 

And when the waves of domestic disorderliness threaten the peace of my mind, still them just as you stilled the waters with your disciples. 

Amen.

(The Message- translation of the Bible.)

I Kings 19:9-14, parts:

Then the word of God came to him: "So Elijah, what are you doing here?"
 "I've been working my heart out for the God-of-the-Angel-Armies," said Elijah. "The people of Israel have abandoned your covenant, destroyed the places of worship, and murdered your prophets. I'm the only one left, and now they're trying to kill me."

Then he was told, "Go, stand on the mountain at attention before God. God will pass by."

A hurricane wind ripped through the mountains and shattered the rocks before God, but God wasn't to be found in the wind; after the wind an earthquake, but God wasn't in the earthquake; and after the earthquake fire, but God wasn't in the fire; and after the fire a gentle and quiet whisper.

When Elijah heard the quiet voice, he muffled his face with his great cloak, went to the mouth of the cave, and stood there. A quiet voice asked, "So Elijah, now tell me, what are you doing here?

Dan. Cake. Good.

I ate my words. 

Gladly.

My *awesome* husband raised the bar on birthday cake goodness. Dan found out from my friend Steph about my favorite bakery, Hahn's, which is in Geneva. It's a good 25 minutes from my house to get there. 

So he left work early one day to drive there and pick up the cake he ordered. But they had closed.

So he had his mother and father pick it up on a stealth mission while I was getting my hair cut the other day. (In answer to your question: Yes, they were in town. They did not drive ALL the way from Iowa.)

Here's how he told me:

Dan: "Happy Birthday, Hon! Here's your cake!"

Emily: "Thanks, babe! It looks beautiful."

Dan: "Don't you want to know where I got it?"

Emily: "Dominick's, right?"

Dan: "Nope. Steph said you liked Hahn's."

Emily: "YOU WENT TO HAHN'S??? YOU GOT ME A CAKE FROM HAHN'S?? ALL THE WAY IN GENEVA?" (More freaking out and laughing.) Then he told me the story about how it took a group effort to get it.

It was only 6:30 in the morning and as far as I was concerned, I felt really loved on my birthday. The rest of the day could be boring and I would consider it a good day. 

Thank, Hon. I ate my words gladly.

_________________________

Post Script:

Emily: "You know you raised the bar on my birthday cake expectations. You can't go back."

Dan: "Oh yeah? Well you raised the bar on my Christmas expectations by getting me that brew set last year. What are you going to do THIS year to top that?"

Emily: "Easy. You're getting a baby." *wink*

A Briefing

If you're of the male gender, you may not like this post. You're warned.

Tomorrow I turn 34. There I admitted it. I feel like 24, but I'm a fair bit older than that. 

I celebrated the aging process by buying something I needed direly: granny panties. 

I'm not joking. 

I'm pregnant, large and in charge. 

But now I'm comfortable in my unmentionables. There. You've been briefed. *

It's okay with me that I don this older apparel for now, but hit me if I start using words like "sensible" or "tasty". 

Dan has already warned me that I'm going to apologize to him tomorrow. If you were a fly on the wall of our kitchen tonight, you would hear us joking about his birthday history with me. We've been married 8 years now, so I have no qualms asking specifically for, say, a birthday cake. 

On my birthday. Not after. 

With "Happy Birthday" written on it. Instead of "OOPS".

We joked how each year I add another qualification for my card or cake because of his "creativity". I will gladly eat those words, Dan. And my pastry. 

I suppose that I should go through some sort of grieving process about being mid-30s, but I really don't feel anything. The fertility clinic did a stellar job of telling me how several of my organs are that of a 40 year old woman so I figure I'm ahead there. And being pregnant while hearing another year clunk by doesn't have the same effect as if I were not pregnant. These wacky preggers hormones tell me to think weird things like:

"I'm trying to be more 'green'. How can I help rocks?"

"Angeli.na Joli.e? She's not THAT pretty."

and

"Did Bara.ck (Obama.s) mother see a chicken before she named him?" 

You get my drift. 

So in my book, since I'm not really myself, I'm not really aging. I get a rebate for having pregnancy brain. And granny panties.

* Couldn't. Resist. The pun.

Motherhood Moment

Morgan and I saw an ambulance drive by while we were on the road.

Emily: "Dear Jesus, please be with the people who are hurt."

Morgan: "Mom, can we follow the ambulance so I can see the hurt people in the hospital?"

(First thought: That's disturbing. Second thought: Ask her why.)

Emily: "Why is that, Morgan?"

Morgan: "So I can pray for them. I want to see them so I can pray for them."

Emily: "Well, that's very nice, but the ambulances don't like people following them. They like to be alone."

Morgan: "Well, let's call them next time so I can see the people in the hospital and pray for their ouchies."

There was no use debating this with her. She was determined. I tried to keep my eyes from shedding the tears that were beginning to well up in them. "Jesus hears you when you pray, Morgan. I'm so glad you pray" was all I could manage to say.

Happy Anniversary, Honey!

You're my Knight in Shining Armor. Eight Years Running.

And my favorite person to see each morning.

Pharmacist Phun

Laughing... Almost every time I go to Mei.jer pharmacy, I have a funny conversation with the pharmacist. This happened last time, too. Just gives me a giggle thinking about it. 

Em: "Hi. I need more protein and iron in my diet due to this pregnancy but am having a hard time keeping down vitamins. Do you have a powder to put in a drink that has both-- that my stomach might tolerate?

Rx: "Are you getting plenty of folic acid?"

Em: "Um, yes."

Rx: "Good. And are you taking a prenatal vitamin?"

Em: "Right... that's the thing... I'm trying but I have a hard time keeping them down... even when I mix them into a milkshake."

Rx: "Well you should really try to eat some more meat. That has protein in it."

Em: "Right... Having trouble in the meat department you see..."

Rx: "And some green leafy vegetables for the iron. You really need to eat that."

Em: "Uh-huh. Right. Well, the whole point of the supplements is because I'm having trouble eating those."

Rx: "Yeah, you really need those. Do you have enough prenatals... we have them for free here."

Em: "Oh, that's very nice, but I have plenty of them. Just have a hard time keeping them down.  So, back to my earlier question... do you have that powder?"

Rx: "I would try GNC. We don't really have something like that."

Gotcha. 

"Who's on first base?"

Ten Thoughts on Having a Girl

1. Cool. We got the gear.

2. If she's athletic, we know nothing. 

3. I knew it. I was so sick. It had to be a "she".

4. Morgan will be a great older sister. She's so maternal.

5. "So, doc, there's no chance that baby would grow a p*nis in the next 4 months, right?"

6. Dan claims he'll be in the basement during the teenage years.

7. She may be girl, but I'm sure she'll have a lot of differences from Morgan.

8. No pink nursery.

9. Can't I buy a FEW new clothes? *wink*

10. Oh no. Not the "V" talk again. 

Baby

We are having an encore performance.

Of pink.

Gender Bender

Okay, okay.
So we know the gender.
Sort of.

We looked for a whatchallit or a hoochidinger and we think we know what it is. But we're not sure.

So the doc says maybe in a few weeks he'll do another "informal" ultrasound to solidify things. It feels a little premature to say "we think it is this" when in fact it very well could be the other thing. Especially since the last time one of our friends told someone the gender of their pregnancy, they immediately got a bunch of gifts in that flavor. We'd hate to dress a boy in pink or a girl in blue.

We're pretty sure, however, that it is human. Whew. We were concerned.

Meanwhile, if you'd like to make an educated guess as to le bebe's girlie or boyieness (huh?), I'd be most interested.

Hormones

Being a woman is so weird. 

I'm talking hormones.

I'm thinking specifically of pregnancy hormones, but just being a woman qualifies one for some moody good times at least 12 times a year or for years on end when one's pituitary says "it's go time".

Today I was enjoying a day with my family and cleaning Lego.s (covered in drywall dust... don't ask) when *bam* I was on the Estrogen Express. There was weeping and tiredness and I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. I tried to talk myself through it, but there's really no logical reason for the crying. 

Then I was angry. 

I was angry at myself for crying for no reason. I told myself to "snap out of it" which only made for... you guessed it... more tears. Weird.

Several years ago, I went through a period of sorrow. Legitimate sorow. As I rounded the corner of the second stage of grief (anger), I remember being more angry that my emotions followed the stupid stages of grief than being angry at the circumstance. I remember trying to will myself out of the stages' order. (Laughing... can you imagine?) This only made me more angry and more prone to following the stage's great wisdom.

But for all its craziness, there was some comfort in knowing that I was walking through orderly steps of grief rather than this helter skelter hormonal "just because" crying.

On a lighter note, I think life in America would be a LOT more interesting if we got a pregnant woman in the presidential office. We could call the "Oval Office" the "Ovum Office" and enjoy the whims of her whirlwind emotional adventure. What's more, our national security would be in stellar shape since enemies wouldn't be able to detect a pattern in our security decisions. 

While we're dreaming, let's have pregnant, weepy women run air traffic control and moody teenagers head up the department of transportation. Now there's a good time to be had.

Whew. I feel better about myself already. Crazy pregnant president.

Staycation

Since we had to cancel our MD trip, Dan and I decided to do a two-day Staycation. Don't get too excited. One day is a work day. The other day will be a fun day. And then, of course, the weekend.

Let me share how it started:

Dan... entering Morgan's room to gently wake her up: "Good morning, Punkin'!"

Morgan: "GO AWAY"

Laughter from Emily.

It's not even 8am. Promises to be a great couple of days. *wink*

Coyote Ugly

Yesterday we had a little drama in our neighborhood. Seems a lonely and somewhat lame coyote was squatting in the field behind our house sunning itself. It seemed to like the field and made no attempt to think that it was out of place.

It was a little disconcerting to see a coyote just sitting there. And then it went to the playground which made all us parents a little wiggy.

My neighbor called Animal Control. You'll never believe what they did.

They sent a guy to chase the coyote. With a net.

There are two things wrong with that statement: Guy and Net.

It should read: Guys (plural) and tranquilizer guns.

I don't care if the coyote had ONE leg, brain damage and no eyes, those buggers could outrun some yahoo from Animal Control faster than you can say "Meep Meep". Which leads me to believe that they got their animal control education from watching Roadrunner.

Later in the day I got to thinking, what if (and this is a stretch, folks) what if Tweedledee actually CAUGHT the coyote in the net? Does he think it will be amenable to a ride in the net until such time as a muzzle is available?

I personally called Animal Control again and asked what they were going to do about the wild animal hanging around the playground. (Don't worry-- I was very nice and played the "innocent stay-at-home-mother" role very well.) I did not let on that I knew about the net incident.

They "assured" me that TWO men were coming out. I was tempted to ask if the other one was Tweedledum, but I held my tongue.

U2

If you like U2, you'll love this video our friend did.

Chocolate Sauce

"Cry for Your Momma" Ice Cream Chocolate Sauce

3 T Cocoa
1 C Sugar
1/3 C Milk
1/4 C Butter
1/4 tsp. Salt
1/4 tsp. Vanilla

Place cocoa, sugar, milk, butter and salt in saucepan. Bring to slow, rolling boil. Boil one minute. Add vanilla.

Pour hot or cooled over ice cream. Cry for your momma. Mmmmm.

Recliner

Is it okay if I share something I bought today?

I ordered a recliner.

I want to share because this purchase took a step of faith for me.

In order to purchase this, I had to acknowledge that God is growing something very wonderful in me. Something wonderful that is wreaking havoc on my sciatic. Something wonderful that will need a place to snuggle with its parents.

I really like it. It's soft in a pale green chenille. It's perfect for snuggling. In 19 weeks.

Life

Friends, I rarely like to get in the political mix. Nor do I like to come across as rightist, elitist or a single-issue voter. Talking about abortion seems to immediately puts one in that camp, however.
From my perspective, it grieves me that one would consider disposable what another would consider absolutely priceless.
My local pregnancy center is in need of diapers, formula and other supplies. It's the least I can do.

Pep Talk to Me

Debbie was my pregnancy help angel for the past 3-4 months while I grew this baby. Last Friday was her last day. Today, I learn to stand on my own. 

Thoughts:

What I should be doing: 

Not blogging

What I will do next: 

1.Roll up my sleeves.

2. Admit that Debbie will not be walking through my door at 9am to help me with my house. 

3. Try to remember how one runs a house/family life and 

4. Plunge into the day. 

What will happen today: 

A lot of flexibility with myself and this silly exhausting pregnancy.

What will not happen today: 

1. Perfection.

2. Big wet tears from friends bemoaning the fact that I have *gasp* one whole child to take care of by myself. hehe 

Soccer Moms, Sucker Moms

Okay, I don't consider myself a doting parent as parents go. I will go to certain lengths to make sure my child is well dressed, safe and healthy. I'll do the appropriate amount of fretting, but I'm not going to get hyper if my child doesn't go the ivy league route or get into honors classes.

Today I learned that I may have to step it up a notch if I want my child to just get some basic fun classes. Basic. 

I innocently picked up a Fox Valley Park District class schedule and found a swim class and ballet class that I thought Morgan would enjoy this fall. Today was the first day of sign-up. I sent Dan to the community center to sign her up.

Apparently a gazillion other parents "innocently" picked up said schedule as well. My dear husband endured an hour long line at the community center for these classes. And get this: we're not even sure we got in. We're on the waiting list for TWO of the classes and in a LOTTERY for the ballet class. A lottery. 

I'll spare you the overly-parental dialogues he had to endure hearing. (Something to the effect of other people's  gifted children and why they had to be placed with the less gifted?)

I was dumbfounded. 

I really don't encourage competition in parenting, but in order to get Morgan into a basic park district class next semester, I am going to have to get up at some crazy hour of the morning to either stand in line or register online. Or maybe I'll camp out the night before. Ugh.

So the question is: How psycho do I want to be?

And so it begins...

Pregnancy Cloud of Witnesses

Hebrews 12:1 "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us."

I'm thankful for Kathryn going through IVF many weeks before me. It made the task much less daunting. My new motto: "Say yes to drugs. They make babies."

I'm thankful for Susan in helping us make our many ethical decisions with IVF. (She's been through it SIX times!) I haven't even met Susan, but her part in our IVF process was very important.

I'm thankful that my sister Noel is doing well, as well as bedrest can go. I'm thankful that her pregnancy is before mine... I'm getting excited about these little buggers and it helps me to start thinking about mine.

I'm thankful for Pam who walked through the valley of infertility with great faith and is now pregnant. I'm thankful that she maintained this faith through great loss, that her faith is not based on circumstances.

I'm thankful for Beth as she quiets her mind and emotions about her pregnancy and waits for God. It helps me do the same.

I'm thankful for Renee and a host of other friends who have been honest with the ache of their pregnancy loss(es) but still fix their eyes on the Creator. God sees them.

I'm thankful for Jenni... for being brave after losing a precious little born baby and having two more after that. 

I'm thankful that my doctor smiled about our pregnancy for the very first time yesterday and said some very encouraging things. He seems to have hope.

So will I.

More Body Talk

Morgan saw a photo this morning of me in the hospital just as I had delivered baby Morgan, who was laying on my chest. In the photo, I am crying and Dan is smiling.

Morgan: "Mom, why are you crying?"

Me: "I'm crying for joy. I was so happy to see you."

Morgan: "And why was I crying?"

Me: "You were hungry."

Morgan: "So did you bring me some squash to eat?"

(She recalls the time I told her that she liked squash as an infant.)

Me: "Um, no."

Morgan: "Did the doctor bring squash?"

Me: "No..." 

And then, reluctantly, I told her how babies are fed. I'm pretty squeamish about body talk for some reason.

Here was Morgan's response to breast.milk: "That is so weird. So very, very weird."

Note to Dan: You give her the se.x talk.

Morning Giggle

I'm sorry... This just makes me laugh every time I watch it. 

Produce People

I don't know what it is about grocery stores, but they bring out the think in me. 

I've noticed of late that the summer produce shopper at my local Meijer is a lot more finicky than the winter produce shopper. And I am no exception.

The tomatoes in winter are sometimes bought, albeit disappointedly, but the tomatoes in summer are downright despised in grocery stores. A local farmer's market yields a more fleshy beefsteak. 

I don't monitor the winter cantaloupes (do they exist?) but the summer ones endure much thumping, schnozzing and groping by shoppers. Only the best ones make it to the fold. Does it smell like cantaloupe? Does it yield to gentle pressure and only to gentle pressure? A veritable army of thumpers reveal their acceptance or rejection of the fruit. Their carts tell all.

When it comes to watermelon, I am at a complete loss. I thump it and feel it, but it's hit or miss for me every time. I have yet to find the key to this mysteries produce. I shrug my shoulders and throw it in with the rest.

Last week, I found myself in the prima donna section of produce: corn selection.

Firstly, I think it's funny how grocery stores have finally just given up asking shoppers to stop shucking on store property; they provide ample trash bins. No other produce receives such attention.

I managed to make it to the corn section while it was relatively quiet. My experience has been that both men and women like to put the corn through its paces: first the silk quality, then the husk firmness. They examine the kernal size and color. Finally they poke the kernal for firmness. Rejected cobs are left somewhat naked for unsuspecting shoppers to enjoy... and what shopper doesn't enjoy someone else's fingernail prick in their corn kernals? (I plead guilty to corn poking.)

As I began my search for the corn, I felt a shadow over my shoulder and noticed I was being watched. A somewhat hurried and anxious looking woman asked me what the price was for corn this week. She took me off guard. "Um, I'm not sure." Her look told me I was a novice. Then she added, "Oh, nevermind...that's the big corn." The way she said it was also with a note of rejection and I felt my self esteem go down two notches. My pride kept me from returning the "big corn" to the bin. I feigned confidence and hurriedly put the three ears in my bag.

My husband is from Iowa and he has spent some time trying to show me how to get the good corn. I feel immense stress from serving corn to him and his family because not only is the corn they serve the *most amazing produce on the face of this planet* (I am not being sarcastic... it is...) but Dan's folks actually wait in chaste for their corn provider, "Steve", to provide the first harvest. (Again... no sarcasm.)

My corn provider is called "My Yer" and there is no red truck from which it spills. 

I take heart though, dear friends, that it is only the beginning of August and I may yet redeem the situation by serving my family some candy yellow small corn kernals before September hits. 

It's a noble, albeit corny goal. 

Grandma Sayings

Fun grandma words to say:

malarkey- "He doesn't put up with any malarkey from those crazy kids."

sensible- "He doesn't need a lot of flash... he drives a sensible vehicle."

tasty- "This pie is so tasty; I must have the recipe."

"on special"- used instead of "on sale"--"I got these bananas on special so I made a pie."

oodles- plenty- "Oh, honey, that's oodles of food. I don't need anymore."

tarnation- an innocent curse- "What in tarnation are you doing with the ladder on the roof?"

Try to say them without giggling and you get extra points.

August

It's August. And it's hot, hot, hot. Yes, even in Chicago-- laugh if you must, you southern friends. 

The good news is that I am nearly back on my feet. I'm 95% there. Onions are still outlawed within a 1 mile radius of my schnoz, but for the most part I can eat a bit more than desserts and carbs I have had to subsist upon. (I thank thee, fetus.)

I can tell that I am feeling better because my sometimes-endearing, sometimes-irritating habits are returning. Par example: I'm starting to *gasp* care about the condition of my bathroom and clean it. Unfortunately for Dan, this means that I also care about wet towels being put back on their rack. (Sorry babe, it's true-- you do it... admit it.) 

In fact today, I did give Dan a head's up about the upcoming nag factor of my health and he asked if it really had to appear. Fortunately for him, I still take naps in the afternoon and that diminishes his nag time by at least 20%. At least. :) 

We did have to cancel our trip to Mecca, er, I mean Maryland in a week. The heat and travel are causing my silly fetus to think that it is week TEN of pregnancy instead of week TWENTY. And no one wants me to go there again. Plus, as much as I'd like to make the haul to Maryland JUST for the Thrasher's Fries *salivate, salivate*, the fetus may have other ideas about my food intake. (Be nice to me, Fetus, I got the upper hand on the flip side of the birth.)

So, sayonara Thrasher's. 

Hello, naggy me. 

And goodnight blog friends.