a friend gave me this card at a baby shower and i laughed so hard because it's exactly how i feel. the sentiment inside reads "you deserve a party." ain't it the truth? i wanted to learn more about the cards and found out joey, the artist, has all sorts of fun stuff. visit her website, dollymamas, for girly giggles.
smockmomma: May 2005 Archives
good news is, my month of bedrest has been cut in half. the freaky news is, we're going in two weeks earlier than expected to get the boys. for those, like me, who are not quick with numbers, that means we're going in at 35 weeks. babyA is "weighing in" at 4 pounds 8 ounces, while babyB is estimated to be at 4 pounds 10 ounces. over nine pounds of babies at 33 weeks -- and no, i do not have toxemia or gestational diabetes.
for my more militant natural and vaginal birth friends, please rest assured that this is not a convenience or vanity elected c-section. we had a uterine rupture scare with gabby two years ago, and this pregnancy was "against medical advice" in the first place. of course, since a singleton pregnancy would have been risky and we're actually having twins in this saran-wrap uterus o' mine, well, you can imagine how skittish the professionals are.
anyway, i got THREE professional opinions before agreeing to do this. of course, the one that was most convincing came from the second doctor. the conversation went something like this:
smockmomma: i really want to wait out the 37 weeks. i want to give their lungs time to develop -- i really don't want N-ICU babies.
doctor two: you want funeral home babies?
i love a doctor who doesn't mince words. so, here we go.
i'm taking four rounds of steroids to increase babies' breathing chances and our prayer request actually remains the same. we're praying for healthy babies with full lung maturity at birth. as always, prayers are appreciated as well as reciprocated.
today is the day we hit week 33 and the day official bedrest begins. of course, i'm headed out to fort worth's medical district to spend most of the day at doctors' offices, so there's no bedrest in there. but as soon as i get home ...
we're praying for four more weeks.
saw revenge last night with smockdaddy and bigD (our 9 year old son). unlike kingdom of heaven, revenge of the sith did count as my last "before bedrest" flick. the movie was good, i'll even say it was really good as far as star wars films go, but the experience of the film was even better than the film itself.
after five other episodes, what's left to explore? i mean, really. especially when your own special effects company has topped itself so many times, there's nowhere else to go? what more can there be? and still, this was a good show. i will not give any of the movie away, so y'all will just have to take my word for it and see the movie yourself.
i have one caveat: we were told by a friend of ours, who happens to be a pastor and quasi-level-headed, that he felt sure it was okay viewing for our nine year old son. although i don't regret taking him with us -- because he is mature for his age and has a better than average grasp, we think, on fact vs. fiction -- there were two scenes in which i leaned over and covered his eyes, much to his chagrin. in fact, he's still griping about it.
after hearing reports of all of the never-ending lines and reading the stories about how impossible it would be to get in to see the movie on opening day, we ordered our tickets in advance, got to the theatre almost three hours early, and (being the pregnant one) i was the one voted on to be camped out while the boys played gauntlet at the video arcade. i think i had more fun than they did! every demographic possible was represented in that line, and just watching the fans as they waited and speculated and laughed and acted goofy was worth the price of admission.
the theatre admitted us thirty minutes before show time. everyone was very orderly and polite about finding seats. it was nice. anyway, about two minutes into the previews the film onscreen skipped. there was nervous laughter as the film picked back up again. but then the film slowed, stopped, and ... as we all waited with bated breath, the thing actually melted and caught on fire. you can imagine the audience's initial response.
once we realized that there wasn't anything that we as an audience could do about it, we settled back into our seats and started introducing ourselves to the people around us. i was sitting between my two boys, so i started reading a book i'd brought to read while in line. bigD got to be on the receiving end of obvious, but harmless, flirtation from some very cute and giggly sorority types. they were asking him all about himself, his favorite characters, all of his star wars acumen, and then gasping with delight at all his answers. smockdaddy offered to switch places with me to help out the bigD, but it didn't float. after awhile, the natives started getting restless again.
about ten minutes later, fearing a riot might break out, one of the "higher ups" with no spine sent in a little usherette to say they were having technical difficulties. really? about five minutes after that, a rather large manager came in followed by several ushers with free "re-admit" passes. there were groans from some in the audience, a few “no ways” and heavy sighs from others. the manager loudly and promptly promised the passes were only for our inconvenience; we weren't being sent home, but they did expect another fifteen to twenty minutes of delay. well, by this time apparently a lot of us had already nervously eaten our ways to the bottom of our popcorn bags, so about half of the theatre emptied out and swarmed back to the lobby to pay another $40 for a large popcorn, an icee, and two cokes.
the movie finally began -- to thunderous applause and shouts of joy -- about forty-five minutes late. we weren't even daunted. And the audience as a whole seemed to have great fun.
i will admit that when we left, smockdaddy and i both said it was really good -- though not "the best episode ever" that it was being hailed as. we asked bigD what he thought: "it was AWESOME! except when mom kept covering my eyes. mom!"
my bottom line: yoda rules, i’m glad lucas finally had his entire dream realized, and this episode was worth the price of full admission...but still i wonder if it wasn't the overall experience of the evening that made it so much fun.
i don't know about y'all, but i'm a purist at heart and i don't think anything will ever top the original star wars. i cannot even force myself to watch lucas' updated version of the original because to me dickering with the original f/x is like... well, it's like coloring black and white films. horror!
shay, the professional photographer who shot this picture is a friend of the family -- normally i never would have let such a picture be taken. shay has, in fact, been asking me for a "pregnancy pose" for over seven years, but my vanity has always prevented me. why i waited until a pregnancy with twins to finally break down and allow her to photograph me and my swollen belly seems to defy all reason. of course, it was mother's day; i was an easy target. anyway, she has entitled the picture "barefoot and pregnant."
i look at this picture and all i can think is, "i can't believe i ate the whole thing." good heavens, i've never been so huge in my entire life and i promise you that it is a monumental exercise in humility on my part to post this ... this ... well, this is what it looks like to have two humans vying for space in your womb. i don't know how i can stand upright without toppling over. no wonder bedrest is just around the corner. really, it's there -- just beyond the belly.
i tell you, being pregnant with twins has been a real struggle for my claustrophobic personality. i'm finally moving into the portion of the pregnancy that it's safer for onlookers to nod and smile and keep on moving on. don't ask me how i'm doing. unless you really want to know. which, believe me, you don't.
at this point, i'm just trying to get through this with my sanity intact. i'm leaning heavily (no pun intended) on my sense of humor. i said something off the cuff the other day and a barely pregnant woman gasped, "you shouldn't be so glib about the miracle inside you!" i almost kicked her in the shins.
if i didn't have my sense of humor, i think i just might be a basket case. i want desperately to be a "what would Mary do?" sort of pregnant lady, but i'm just not cut out for it. at times it scares me -- yes, actually scares me -- that i am "stuck" with this beautiful but frightening belly for another five weeks (Lord willing) and it isn't going to end without i be ripped open from stem to stern and have two human beings grabbed outta my guts before i'm stapled shut to hold my all my insides back in place.
and until then, i cannot stop moving towards alien proportions. absolutely alien. and, speaking of aliens, just the other night i was dreaming that an alien was fighting its way out of my belly. no kidding. and when i awoke, i discovered that babyB was just trying to sleep horizontally. not gonna do it.
[warning: foul language/ironic, pregnant, hormonal rant ahead]
i swan! american journalists are so blasted arrogant. it chaps my ass to the bone to hear these bastards -- who i oft have to ask whether they have any moral fiber whatsoever anywhere at all within any of their beings -- pontificating on whether or not one of the greatest men who ever lived is worthy of sainthood and having the balls to question papa ratzi's "right" to fast forward the process. forgive me for losing all religion folks, but screw you.
i know it's crazy, sick and insane, but there are still those people out there who are seriously disappointed that JPII did not raise himself from the dead in order to usher in "the end times." makes me wanna puke, i tell y'all.
I almost enjoy the rhetoric about "safe abortions." This is like describing a robbery where the person being robbed was killed, but the robber walked safely away.
- Jeff Miller of "Curt Jester"
it's funny how a group of women -- moms to be exact -- who get together with an expectant mother feel compelled to share their birth stories, even the horror stories.
i certainly understand the beauty of shared experience and how our having given birth to another human soul is often the one thing that brings us women together -- but i think horror stories should be kept under wraps until a later date.
after what some of us have to go through to get our pearls of great price into this world, we should be able to share our stories, like war veterans. but the truly horrific stories would best be shared after Baby arrives, dontcha think? especially when one considers the natural tendency of some people to try to "one-up" each other.
at best it freaks out mom-to-be. at worst, well, it turns into a freak show.
smockdaddy's says, "well, the best thing i can say is it's not the absolute worst movie i've ever seen; but, it does blow my theory that there's no such thing as a bad sword movie. i can't believe it was so bad. and ridley scott? the money they must have invested ... i just can't believe it was so bad."
smockmomma's says, "no plot, bad dialogue, crappy special effects and major cheese. this does not count as my last movie before bedrest, no friggin' way!"
bottom line: bumbling bishops and blood-thirsty christians vs. benevolent and peace-loving muslims of the twelfth century all wrapped up in corny twenty-first century dialogue and sloppy, over-used special effects. it'll make you sorry that slow-motion was ever invented and wish you could demand your money, not to mention your time, back.
when a dog knows better how to treat an infant than its own human mother -- who wrapped her infant in plastic and tossed her in the woods.
"i like my jazz like my food, honey. greasy." ~ smockdaddy
"this book on twins says that sexual relations after twenty-eight weeks are limited only by health concerns or your imagination...they forgot to mention the laws of gravity." ~ smockmomma
"hey, mommom! where's you lap?" ~ gabby (two)
1. what's your favorite television show post-reality television?
2. tennis shoes or sandals?
3. what's your favorite bug?
4. mexican food or italian?
5. which flavor of ice cream can you not live without?
...is that i can post this of babyA and simply tell you and, there's another one just like him in there.
this is the best face shot my perinatologist could get. the boys were playing shy on monday. well, not too shy. they didn't mind showing off their bums, but i didn't think the summa mamas needed that sort of publicity. anyway, the top of baby's head is on the right, chin is on the left. now can you see him?
posted for miz booshay, in the interest of putting up a non-creepy photo.
according to this article at salary.com. personally, i think it's too low an estimate, but hey, that's just one smockmomma's opinion.
from the article:
While Mr. Herbert regained consciousness in 1996, his speech was slurred, he was unable to eat without assistance, he was confined to a bed or a wheelchair and his vision was reduced to a series of blurs...Moreover, Mr. Herbert's memory seemed all but nonexistent. He could not say how old he was or what his job had been. He seemed unable to recognize family members and friends, and firefighting comrades had become virtual strangers.
In 1999, a year after he was moved to the nursing home, Linda Herbert prevailed in a brief legal fight with Mr. Herbert's parents, Geraldine and Donald P. Herbert, over who should have control over decisions in a medical emergency, like pneumonia or a serious infection. All agreed that extraordinary resuscitative measures should not be taken in the event of a stroke or a heart attack.
[bold emphasis from the smock]
"Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter
Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter
Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade!"
"Fanny Brice" - Funny Girl
"Women are the only realists; their whole object in life is to pit their realism against the extravagant, excessive, and occasionally drunken idealism of men."
GK Chesterton - A Handful of Authors
i was having dinner with new business acquaintance last night and somehow, after a couple of margaritas for her, one too many sweet teas for me, the conversation turned to spice and their uncanny ability to bring out the realist in their wives.
in his book, bringing up boys, dr. dobson explains how boys/men get an idea into their heads and typically "run with it" -- the implication being that they don't think things through. to drive home his point, dr. dobson shares a story from his own childhood about how, after listening to an episode of tarzan on the radio, he decides to swing between two trees in the pasture behind his house a la tarzan. sounds like fun, no? so he rushes to the shed behind his house, grabs a rope, climbs one of the trees, fastens the rope to a branch and swings. it wasn't until he was lying flat on his back with a broken rib and fractured arm that he realized, uggh, maybe i should have measured the rope. dobson contends that if it had been a girl who wanted to swing a la jane, she would have thought the situation through with questions like what texture of rope should i use? rope or ribbon? what color of ribbon should i use? purple or pink? and the ever important: how long should the pink ribbon be? the point is that women think things through.
marc has told me, on more than one occasion mind you, when i want your opinion, i'll ask for it. and has added, i'll only ask your opinion when i want to know why such-and-such is a bad idea. you see, he expects me to rain on his parade. my friend was telling me of similar situations with her own husband. we commiserated that men simply expect their wives to be big ol' wet blankets, but is that truly the case? i don't think so. i think we just think things through and can see potential problems that men just don't see.