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Archive for November, 2007

The New TV

In a word, wonderful.

Since we’re not joining the ranks of the turn-off-your-TV crowd anytime soon, I have to say that we love it.  When M. found out that that’s what we were getting for Christmas, he got giddy.  M.  Got giddy.  Y’all don’t know him, but one thing he doesn’t generally do is “giddy.”  He can have the most sublime meal ever and walk away saying it was “good.”  In fact, “good” is high praise from him.  “Pretty good” means terrific, and “good” means fabulous.  “Not bad” means “pretty darned good” – you get the idea.  He is many things, but demonstrative is not among those things.

And even when he heard about the TV, he didn’t jump up and shout “Great!” (although he might have been hard-pressed to jump up anyway, and maybe that has something to do with his overall understated reactions to things).  Rather – and this is how I knew he was giddy – he started obsessively looking up information about upgrading our satellite service to HD.  And he kept reporting back to me about new things he’d discovered during the day.  He actually blew off time working on his paper for class to look these things up.  All of which translates to “giddy as a schoolgirl.”

And we’re now enjoying it.  We can’t actually upgrade our satellite service until we get through the backlog of “Dexter” episodes on the DVR (M.’s also making noises about getting through all the “Enterprise” episodes, but since we’re watching those in the interests of “completion” and not “enjoyment,” I’m prepared to let them go), which probably won’t be until after 2.0 makes his appearance.  But, in the meantime, I’ve been enjoying calibrating the picture and sound, and M.’s been enjoying me doing these things (one of the weirder things we have in common is being very, very anal about TV picture/sound quality.  I have a story about this…but I’ll save it for another day).

And, in other unrelated news, BP is still holding it’s own at 36 weeks even.  Yep, I’m now officially 9 months pregnant.  Because they don’t tell you that pregnancy is actually 10 months long.

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Apparently, they’re taking out the only elevator at M.’s station (the one near the house) from now until February. The next closest station is a pain in the butt to get to, and takes longer to boot. Pffffffft. The “modernized” elevator had better have a transporter device or something.

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Just a quickie

BP: good.

Diss: well, I did some helpful reading yesterday while M. was keeping an eye on MM, so that’s something. I keep kind of hoping that the piece of crap I will inevitably send to the diss group on Friday will get me booted, although M. pointed out that it will probably read more like a cry for help.

My Dad is here today being very generous with both his time and energy; we have a biggish yard here at our rental place, and the trees finally gave up enough leaves that it made sense to take care of them (the big oak in the backyard still has about half its leaves, but if we wait for them to fall it’ll be February before we get to the yardwork). Since M. is definitely not a yardsman by any stretch of the imagination (his tales of childhood lawnmowing notwithstanding), and since I’m pretty much down for the count, physically, my Dad agreed to come over and do the leaves and mow the grass. It’s looking so much better out there now.

He also replaced the air filter, fixed the gas exhaust so that we don’t all die in our sleep (we do, for the record, have carbon monoxide detectors…I like cooking with gas, but otherwise I hate the stuff), and got down the bassinet, infant carseat, and bouncy seat from the attic. Since mice had apparently taken up residence in the two seats, I’m running them through the wash. The carseat instructions said “hand wash,” so I put it in the delicate cycle. I’m sorry, but I don’t trust my own hand washing, you know?

I also managed to track down my hand pump (which, frankly, always worked better than the expensive-to-rent electric one, and really wasn’t that big of a pain in the ass – the electric one was much more of a bother) and I need to get out the little bottles, just in case we have latching issues.

Meanwhile, 2.0 is trying to find a way out through the upper part of my abdomen. I’m not quite sure how to communicate the idea that it ain’t gonna happen.

AND, lest I forget, my Dad also brought over our Christmas present!!  Yes, we’re now the proud owners of our very own HDTV.  It’s wonderful (or, as MM put it, “It’s the most yeutiful TV ever!”).

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MM spent half of last night wandering around in circles saying “Sesame Street was brought to you today by the number…” (no number included).  Over and over and over.

Sigh.

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Not much new…

I know that I flubbed Nanopoblo by missing a few days here and there, but I thought I’d keep everyone up to date on things here.

Although, honestly, not much is up.  Which is good.  I spent part of yesterday afternoon fretting about 2.0’s quietness, but he was apparently saving it up for last night.  Jack LaLaine has nothing on this kid.

BP’s still good – systolic is slightly elevated (130s), but diastolic – the one that usually gives me trouble – is holding in the 70s.  Itching: still there.  Hemorrhoids: been there for two+ years, not going anywhere.  Gas/belching/interesting, um, excrement: present and accounted for, although they may be exacerbated by some weird virus that M. and MM seem to have.  I never actually heard of a virus that makes you have serious gas and belching (same thing?), but both of them have got it bad and have had it for several days now.  MM finally gave up the ghost yesterday and got some out (sorry about the TMI – this is my life right now), but M. stayed home from work citing worries about not making it, um, intact.  As it were.  I might have it too, but since I’ve been having a lot of gas/belching/weird excrement for months now, it’s kind of hard to tell.

Ain’t pregnancy grand?

Did a little work on the diss stuff yesterday – mainly trying to flesh out the argument that’s been giving me so much trouble these past few months.  If I just sat down and wrote I’d probably have it, but since neither my brain nor my schedule is entirely conducive to this, it just kind of rattles around my head until I don’t know if it works as an argument or is actually the most simple-minded observation to ever come down the pike.  I think there’s an argument in there; what I have to do now – and am resisting with all of my subconscious might – is sit down with the “existing literature” and see if what I’m saying about everyone else holds water or not.  If it does, then I probably have a case.  If I’m overstating things, then I’m back to square one.

In other news, I’m having weird dreams lately.  I hadn’t had them for most of the pregnancy, but all of a sudden I’m channeling David Lynch.  Not bad, exactly, but weird.

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The Indignity

Well, add PUPPP (Pruritic urticarial papules and plaques of pregnancy) to my list of things that are currently making three weeks seem like an eternity. I’ve got helpful people telling me not to scratch, and I’m using hydrocortizone cream, but my stomach itches anyway and the scratching feels goooood. For at least 10 seconds.

On the plus side – the very, very plus side – I don’t have any symptoms of anything worse (like, oh, say, Intrahepatic cholestasis of pregnancy, which is what happens when your liver decides that it’s just had enough and starts to crap out. Which I know because that’s basically what happened when I got mono a few years ago. Which also resulted from having sex with M., and so what have we learned???).

Seriously, though, the second condition is much worse than the first, dangerous to both mother and baby, and I really, really would rather just be scratching my belly in undignified bliss.

BP is still behaving, though – always good. It’s generally been running in the 130s/70s, which is well below the threshold to call the doctor. I’m stupidly uncomfortable at this point – walking a few feet is its own kind of hell, or, at least, heck – and three weeks seems a lot like…more than three weeks right now.

Add to this the fact that I’m supposed to send something to my diss group this week – yes, the one I haven’t been actively participating in for months – and I currently have zip, nada, zilch to send, and this is looking to be a really pfffffft week. If I can get a comprehensive outline of Ch. 2 to send off, I’ll count myself lucky; and if I get booted from the group for not doing better, well, I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to get out of the group for ages, so that’s not necessarily a bad potential outcome.

Well, I’m off to try and, um, take care of business in spite of the hemorrhoids – because, yes, pregnancy is ALL about the glow of impending motherhood. Really.

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Bobble-head Baby

Well, based on the ultrasound yesterday, 2.0 has the body of a 35-weeker and the head of a 39-weeker.  Yes, he has a gigantic head.  That’s currently just millimeters away from my cervix.

This explains a lot.

Happily, there didn’t seem to be any fluid on the brain – unless we hear otherwise, it looks like he just has a gigantic head.  Which would not be out of the realm of possibility, given his parentage (neither M. nor I can wear ‘normal’ sized hats).  Also happily, the cervix is still long and closed, so unless he gets impatient and decides to use his abnormally large head as a battering ram, he shouldn’t be trying to get out anytime soon.

We got an interesting look at him chewing, of all things.  I’ve seen a few things on ultrasound, but none of them were as weird as that.  What is he chewing?  Why is he chewing?  Is this something he needs to be practicing right now?  He was also frowning, which makes me think that he’s going to arrive on the scene pissed and ready to go down on a pizza or something.

I had thought (hoped?) that the days of the dildo-cam were behind me, but nooooooo.  Because of 2.0’s gigantic head and its positioning way the hell down in my pelvis, the technician couldn’t get a look at the cervix without using the damned thing.  As always, I was glad to have taken a shower before I went.

At any rate, that’s where we’re currently sitting.  Baby: gigantic head.  Riding so low as to make walking for any distance virtually impossible.  Mommy: heavy with child.  So very, very heavy.  And half of a mind that if the head is full term, couldn’t we just deliver now and be done with it?

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