Oh I nearly forgot, for the love of Joss….

Hie yourselves over to Dr. Horrible to see some wonderful Neal Patrick Harris, Nathan Fillion, and Felicia Day musical booty.  They’ll be up on the site until July 20th, afterwhich you can buy the episodes on iTunes, or wait for the DVD to come out.

So the nausea found me.  It’s not horrible, but it comes in waves of ‘oh crap’ before it settles into ‘hmm, need a cracker’.  I guess that’s what I get for saying I was having a lonely, no-nausea party.  For the record, my buddy nausea settled in right about square in week 10.  Thus far no hurling, so I’ll keep my fingers crossed.

I spent yesterday at home with a sick Q-man.  Well, actually a feverish-no-other-symptoms Q-man to be exact.  That child is king of the symptom-free fever.  I can only guess that his 2nd year molars are preparing to erupt sometime soon.  He’s been a little on the drooly side lately, now that I think about it.  All that said, these will be his last baby teeth once these puppies burst through.  No more teething!  Ok, no more teething for him!  All sorts of teething still in store for babe-in-belly, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

One of my co-workers keeps reminding me that I’m going to have to come out of the baby-closet to my boss soon.  Like very soon.  I’d like to think it’s because she thinks I won’t have any other way to explain my preggers-glow, but I know it’s because I look like I’m battling the bulge.  She’s a friend, so it’s ok for her to be so honest with me.  And I can still work to convince myself that my baby belly isn’t so noticable yet, right?  Despite having been in almost solely maternity-wear for weeks now….

As some of you are aware, I’ve been going through major protein cravings this time around.  Which is fine, until you remember that I’m vegetarian and I won’t just saunter up to the diner counter for a nice big burger with a pound of bacon on top (but I’ll take the accompanying fries!).  I’ve gotten some wonderful recommendations to keep my life protein-rich, and the ones I’ve been able to put into practice have helped a great deal.  Still, since sharing my cravings with Andrew, he seems to get this evil gleam in his eye.  That gleam says it can’t wait for me to succumb to meat-lust.  This paragraph alone is bound to bring me some interesting Googlers.  My latest afternoon treat is pretzels dipped in peanut butter.  Yum!

Thank you everyone for the congratulations.  In a perfect world, I would respond individually to each of you.  Unfortunately, I haven’t yet found the map that leads to the perfect world.

So far, I’ve had very little nausea to speak of.  And I don’t feel particularly exhausted, at least no more than usual.  It’s amazing how the definition of tired, and how that tiredness affects one’s day changes when one becomes a parent.  I remember feeling completely knocked down, run-over tired during my 1st trimester with Quinten.  Now, not so much.  I think my only complaint thus far is other, non-nausea-related digestive distress.

I don’t think is particularly a pregnancy symptom, but I’m having a hard time remaining committed to projects I start.  I’m 3 weeks behind on my Word Time videos.  I got to day 27 in my 365 project, and have yet to take another picture of myself (now 6 days behind).  I’ll try to get caught up for Word Time on Wednesday, where I get an hour to myself between Quinten going to bed, and Andrew coming home from his gaming night.  But I don’t know if I’ll continue the 365 project.  After 27 consecutive days, I feel like I just ran out of steam and ideas.  I find it immensely difficult to photograph myself.  And the more I fall behind, the less likely it seems that I’ll enjoy catching up.  So it goes.

I quit my Bikram Yoga class a couple weeks ago.  Sad as I was to leave, I was having a terrible time bearing the heat/humidity in the room.  I know I can probably still do a lot of the postures at home (in my spare time, hah!), but I fare much better in a class setting.  Having other people expecting me to practice keeps me honest.  Does anyone have any recommendations for not-so-intense yoga?  I’m not ready to level myself down to a prenatal yoga class yet.  My chiropractor recommends getting into hatha yoga, which I think is probably the best approach, but my current experiences with yoga are limited to bikram, so I’m not sure.  Anyone?  Rachel?

Most other things are business as usual around here.  Just feeling kind of pudgy around the middle.  Wee!  Still not out of the baby-closet at work.  I waited until a few weeks into 2nd trimester to alert the work-sorts to my delicate condition the last time around.  I don’t know if I can sit on the news that long this time around.  I have no idea how my boss is going to react.  Why do I have a knack for working where no pregnant woman has been before?  I know I always thought I’d be a trailblazer, but this isn’t exactly the trailblazing I had in mind.

This is one of my 365 project photos that I really liked.

That title should be sung ala Aerosmith, not Gene Autry.

For the last week or so, I’ve been cutting back on the sauce.  And by sauce I mean coffee, not beer.  Beer and I have been poorly acquainted the last couple years, sadly.  On the worst day, I had a headache so intense I could barely pop the Tylenol into my mouth fast enough.  But today, day 10, things seem to be sailing along.  Nary a sip of coffee has been drunk today, and while I’m freaking exhausted, I can’t blame lack of caffeine (only lack of sleep - thank you aching back and knees and crappy freaking mattress).

So gentle reader, you might be curious about why I would abstain from one of my most favorite beverages.  It’s a funny story actually.  I’m not one for Lenten sacrifices.  Of course, if I were fond of such things, it’s way too late in the year to be getting my Catholic on anyway; that train left the station back in February.  And while I do concede that my masochistic tendencies can get in the way, I’m not purposely inflicting pain on myself just for the sake of the receding pain itself.

The truth is, there is some contraindication associated with excessive coffee consumption and safe use of the Easy Bake Oven.  For background on this reference (or to jog your memory), you might want to read this.  Here’s to cooking with Hasbro, once again.  Let’s hope it’s not coffee cake!

I know the summer solstice isn’t until the 21st of June, but it definitely feels like summer here already.  Typically, June in Texas means highs in the 90s regardless, but man oh man has it been hot.  It’s like our July/August weather has arrived early.  We’ve been breaking (or close to) 100 degrees for at least a week.

To help us cope with the heat, I took Quinten to the wading pool at Shipe Park this past weekend.  The pool is 8 inches at its most shallow, and only 2 feet in the deep end.  I liken it to a rather large bath tub that one has to share with lots of other kids.  He seemed to enjoy himself a lot.  He’s still so fearless when it comes to water.  I guess in some ways it’s a good thing, but it still scares me.  Fun was had, I got to try out my new swimsuit, and we both got to cool down a bit.  Of course, once he was done swimming, Quinten also wanted to play on the adjacent playground equipment.  So any cooling off benefits were canceled out by standing in the sun with him while he “drove” the playground equipment and walked back and forth on the bridge.  Alas.

By the end of Sunday, it had become readily apparent to me that I’d overdone myself.  Prior to our pool trip, Quinten and I played at Brentwood park for about an hour, then headed over to Barnes & Noble to play in the kids book section while waiting for Costco to open.  That was actually a newfound treat - I didn’t realize they had a train table in the kids section; Quinten was quite amused with pushing the trains on the tracks.  Then we went to Costco and shopped, got home in time to put little man down for his nap, I unpacked groceries.  After napping for about an hour, he had lunch, and then we shipped out for the pool/playground and stayed for about 2 hours.  It was a fun but very tiring day.  I was a grouchy wreck by the time Andrew got home from work.  Note to self, take it easy trying to be super-duper mama.

I need to remember to give myself a break now and then.  It’s hard, especially when inspired to give my all to my adorable boy.

Taken 06/08 at Ramsey Park.  First time he climbed the slide without help!

And now to get back in the swing of things.  I’m sure no one appreciates me sounding like I’m going off the deep end my previous post, and then remaining silent for 7 days.

Friday, Andrew and I went to see Return to Forever at the Paramount Theatre.  Oh man, what an awesome show!  This is one of my preferred line-ups of RtF (Corea, Clarke, Di Meola, White) and let me just say those cats, despite having put on 30+ years since their heyday(74-76), still rock with the best of them.  It was sort of amusing to people watch during the show.  It seemed like the average age of most of the attendees was around 50, most likely the people that were rocking to RtF during the 70s, with a large handful of people in the 20-30 range or younger.  Unlike most of the jazz shows I’ve gone to, many of these people were as raucous and outspoken, not to mention as drunk (or otherwise altered), as one might expect them to be at a rock show.  I guess that’s what happens when one mixes jazz chops and some rock style and comes up with one of my favorite genres, fusion.  It was fab, fab, fab and I was happy in my pants all night long.

Prior to the show, I was pitifully scrambling to find a sitter.  I always feel weird about asking friends to watch Quinten, because it often the only time I get to see them.  So I feel guilty making the “hey, long time no see can you babysit” phone call.  Many thanks to my dear friend, Ginger, and her family who trekked up for deep south Austin to hang out with little man.

Saturday, Quinten’s school held a Kids Carnival.  We went for a couple hours, and nearly melted in the heat, but did have a good time.  Little man was momentarily entertained by the clown there, and also playing in the rubber ducky pond.  By playing in the duck pond, I mean splashing in the water and trying to climb into the pool and sit down.  As part of the festivities, the school was selling raffle tickets for a John Deere Ride-On Gator.  Prior to the Carnival, the Gator had been parked near the door to the school.  Every day for a week, Quinten would stop and stare transfixed by all the glory of such a large ride-on vehicle.  And here is where he got to realize his dream of riding the beast:

Oh man, he was in Heaven.  We spent the majority of our time at the Carnival right here, in the sun.  I have to say he was pretty good about letting the other kids take a turn as well, but never did want to stray too far away.

Sunday, the family headed to Ramsey Park to attend the first event hosted by Green Tips from Great Kids.  My friend Lauren was one of the organizers of the event. In addition to being an all-around super woman, she is a teacher, and also an eco-consultant.  Here is a shameless plug for her business, Green Life Eco-Consulting.  Although Quinten was too young to participate in any of the kids activities, he had a grand time playing in the park, and we got to visit with Lauren and her husband Patrick for a bit before surrendering to the heat of the day and heading back to the house. Here are some pictures from that outing:

Lauren and her youngest, Zelda, preparing to go down the big slide.

Quinten going down the big slide.

Following his newly-made friend through the tube.  She is such a cutie!

The end result of playing hard in the park - sweaty, rosy-cheeked boy!

Today, Quinten is officially 18 months old.  And for a slightly less significant benchmark, I am officially 32.5 years old.  To mark the occasion, Quinten gets to see Dr. Cute-As-Pie this afternoon for his check-up, and I have decided to begin a 365 photo project.  Part of the inspiration for doing this is coming from me always being behind the camera.  When Q is doing all things cute, it’s generally me wielding our point and shoot.  We’ll see how long I can actually manage a daily photo of myself.

Happy Friday!

When I was preparing for a first date (and likely several subsequent dates), back in my former life, I’d follow a comfortable ritual to prepare myself for the evening.  I’d have a sensible lunch that day, something to ensure I wouldn’t be ravenous for the dinner date.  As tasty as those dinners can be, I never wanted to be tick-full afterward.  It’s hard to keep the gut sucked in tight when one’s belly is full of pasta and bread!  Or you know, salads or whatever it is women eat on dates these days.  A few hours before meeting the date, I’d draw a nice toasty bath and soak.  And more importantly shave my legs.  I’ve mentioned how blind I am before; shaving in the shower usually results in plenty of bloodletting.  I would be sure my toenails were nicely painted and that my feet were properly moisturized.  I would be sure the hedges were properly trimmed and in neat order.  And I would pick out a comfortable outfit that conservatively showed my assets, without showing my ass.  If we’re being honest, most of the ritual deals with the off-chance there might be nakedness and the chance for sex.  On the first date, I know!  Hi Mom! It was a routine I’d grown quite familiar with after so many years as a single woman, and there is a certain amount of nostalgia associated with it.

Never one to cast away nostalgic exercises, I’ve modified this ritual so that I can still apply it to my much less exciting, but mostly comfortable married life.  I always make sure to have smooth legs when I go in for a pedicure.  The pedicurist is going to spend a considerable amount of time down there, and I’d hate for him or her to have to deal with prickly legs in addition to doing his or her thankless job.  The full ritual is also undergone when I am seeing the OB/Gyn.  That whole experience is so much more intimate, I even give in and shave my thighs.  I’m sure none of it really matters to either the pedicurist or the doctor, but it makes me feel better.

Of course, now that we have a toddler running around, the ritual is rushed a bit.  Hell, life is mostly rushed these days.  But I did manage to hie myself to my appointment yesterday afternoon with legs shaven that morning, and a 3-week old pedicure.  It’s the best ritual I can muster these days when my attentions are split down to sixteenths.  I mentioned a while back that I’d scheduled an appointment with a new doctor.  I’m in love, well as much as one can be in love with someone who performs my pap smear.  Let’s just say I’m in great like with the new doctor.  It was an emotional visit for personal reasons, and I was happy to find such an empathetic and kind soul in the shape of a doctor.  Despite the doctor being so wonderful, the appointment put a pretty big damper on the rest of my day.  But I don’t want to get into here, at least not yet.

We are safely arrived from our adventures in California.  It was wonderful to see the family, and visit with everyone.  I only wish the trip had been longer, and that Andrew had been able to accompany us.  Some day, the extended family will actually get to meet that guy I got married to.

The trip was mostly hitch free, save for the flight delay fiasco on our return trip that left us stranded in the San Diego airport for 3 hours.  This probably wouldn’t have been a huge problem had we been able to leave the secured area of terminal.  As it was, we spent 3 hours stuck in a tiny, circular wing of the terminal.  Our only choice for food was Starbucks.  So mama got herself properly caffeinated, and shared out a $5 fruit cup and a scone with Quinten.

Quinten is definitely proving to be traveler extraordinaire.  Despite all my worries about keeping him entertained and peaceful during the flight, he was a champ, charming our fellow passengers left and right.  I feel like I’m still adjusting back to good ol’ central time - the daylight/time of day seem a bit off to me yet.

Anywho, here are some pictures:

Q, rear view, Limantour Beach, CA (part of Point Reyes)

Playing with Uncle Justin at Pelayos, Fairfield, CA

Walking the beach with Granddad

Riding Granddad’s lawnmower - he’d actually tried this first at Mom’s house, but I didn’t get a picture

Walking around Baba’s house with a mouthful of something, Kelsey waiting dutifully by for him to drop something

This one was taken a few days before we left town.  Photos in the picture were taken by the illustrious and massively talented Robert Shults.

There are plenty of other photos up on my Flickr stream, that you may browse at will.

As of 4:30am this morning, this was already one hell of a day.  Just before 8am, it became one of those days.  My sweet boy broke my glasses this morning.  And he also had one hell of a wardrobe malfunction this morning thanks to the tacos we had for dinner.  I wont go into more detail on that second thing because I know not all of my readers change several diapers a day, nor are they sometimes up to their elbows in poo.  They should be so lucky!  Note to self, maybe we should be a little more careful about feeding little man beans.  Whoops, I said I wasn’t going into more detail, didn’t I?  Gotcha!

The glasses are the real tragedy of the day though.  Yep, you heard me right, I’d take the poo over broken glasses ANY DAY.  For those of you who don’t know me in real life, I’m blind as a frakking bat.   Without my glasses on, I can fuzzily make out that big letter on the eye chart.  Yes, the one at the VERY TOP.  And if I hadn’t been forced to stare at that chart so often that I have the first letter memorized, I’d probably have a hard time deciding if it was an E or a backwards 3.  So having broken spectacles is a major ordeal.  After tearing up the bedroom, I managed to find my most recent, old pair of glasses, script circa August 2005.  They’re not too bad, but it’s not 20/20.   But when my unaltered vision is worse than  20/200, I guess I can’t complain too much.

The timing of the broken glasses is the killer though.  We leave town tomorrow.  There’s no chance of me getting back-up contacts (just in case the newest, old glasses get broken too), because I haven’t had a contact lenses exam in who knows how many years, probably since at least 2000.  Plus I hate wearing contacts.  Since I have year-round allergies in Texas, I can never escape the dry, itchy eye feeling when wearing pieces of plastic over my corneas.

I’m going to head over to EZ Frame Fixer this afternoon and see if he can resurrect my glasses.  Quinten snapped the right arm off, leaving a stump of metal where there attaching hardware used to live.  I guess it could be worse - the last pair of broken glasses I had split at the bridge just after I had moved to Chicago.  Had I not been with friends at the time, I’m not even sure how I would’ve gotten home.  Flagging down a cab seems infinitely more difficult when one can’t really see the damned thing.

And I have learned my lesson: glasses must go into their case and then into the bedside table drawer for safe keeping when I go to sleep.  No more being the victim of sneaky toddler getting into hijinks while mama is crashed out.

We are T-minus less than 2 days before our California departure. I plan to make a list of what to pack today, and with any luck I’ll manage to not stray from the list. Since Quinten was born, I have found it relatively impossible to “pack light”. Which means I usually bring WAY TOO MUCH stuff for him, and forget essentials for myself. Hence the list.

My mission this past weekend was to find a backpack that was not plastered in licensed characters for Quinten, and some sort of travel-size doodle thing to keep him occupied for at least a few minutes of our flights. It took 2 different stops, but I eventually succeeded in completing my mission. It was during our second stop, at the fabulous Terra Toys, that I was privy to my first experience of toddler-sized meltdown. Why I didn’t think about how much trouble bringing wee man to an actual toy store would be, I have no idea. But yeah, I was that parent, hefting her kicking and crying toddler out of the store via fireman’s carry. But we found a backpack that he likes, and that doesn’t turn him into a walking advertisement for Disney. So I guess it was worth it. And I think it might be a while before I attempt toy-store with Q in tow again.

Due to a late-in-the-day second nap on Saturday, Quinten and I missed out on the graduation party being held in our friend, Gilliss‘ honor. I find I am nearly powerless to keep little man from napping if he is determined to fall asleep. And the late day nap is always a nightmare upon waking. He woke up crying, and proceeded to continue crying/screeching for at least 45 minutes afterward. He didn’t want to be held or touched, and would notch up the volume and flail his limbs every time I tried to walk away or out of the room. They were the worst (yet) possible conditions to try to manage a social outing with, so we stayed home. Does this mean we’re approaching the “terrible” part of the twos early?