Salad dressing mania

We are ready for the kid to pop out already. Today would be the ideal day for it to come for many reasons, and when we went to the doctor today, he said that in his expert opinion, it would not come until next week at the earliest. Great. Kim's getting pissy, which makes me pissy (Poker remains nonplussed about the whole thing). And once again, the advice pours in.

It seems like everyone we know has some sort of magic formula for making the baby come when we want it to. And I'm not talking about driving on bumpy roads or sex; I'm talking salad dressing. Apparently the right salad dressing (or, in the case of #19 Rated Rabbi in America Sharon Brous, pie) can convince the baby to pop out when you want it to. People left and right are volunteering to concoct their magic salad dressing for us so that the baby can shoot on out at a convenient time. There is even a restaurant in the Valley that is famous for its salad (known simply as "The Salad") which they guarantee will make your baby come out after eating.

Now I've never been one to fall for pseudo-science mumbo-jumbo, and this sounds like hogwash to me. The fact is, anyone who's eating this salad dressing (or pie) is already pretty pregnant. Can we truly say that the salad dressing was the cause of the birth, as opposed to the fact that the woman eating the salad was at 39 weeks? And how long do you have to wait for this salad dressing to kick in? A day? Three days? If you eat the salad on Monday, and have the baby Friday, do you claim that the salad worked or didn't? What if you're 6 months pregnant and you eat this salad. Will you have the baby then? If I eat the salad, will I give birth, despite being, for all intents and purposes, a dude? Did Professor Snape create this elixir in his classroom at Hogwarts Academy?

So I'm not down with the salad dressing. The pie is another story though, cause it's pie! Who can say no to pie? I know I can't. Mmmmmm... pie. - Mike

Days...

As in "it could be within days" that I go into labor. Well I sort of already knew that, and I've been trying to mentally prepare myself for it, but to hear my doctor's office SAY that to me was a whole different story. I had contractions last night - real, honest to gd contractions - and they woke me up. I lay there thinking, is my baby going to be born TODAY? There are still so many loose ends I need to tie up, and I was looking forward to one more weekend to get stuff done, including getting my hair cut and having the apartment deep cleaned. But alas, they eventually stopped, after a couple hours, and I slept more or less comfortably for the rest of the night.

Sleeping really is getting to be a problem again. We were at the IKAR Shabbaton this past weekend, where we got put in a room with two twin beds. So we pushed them together but one was slightly higher than the other, which didn't bode well for snuggling. And since they were camp conference center beds they weren't very comfortable to begin with. My theory was, if I'm going to be uncomfortable, why spend too much in there? So I stayed up late Friday and Saturday, schmoozing with my friends in the most carefree of fashions, relishing every moment. I paid the price on Sunday when I felt like crap, but it was worth it.

A few updates - the couch is out of the apartment (residing at Mark's place) but it still needs to be sold; we have an extra almost-queen mattress from the new sofa bed kicking around (don't ask, unless you want to buy it); so we're almost ready to go...more or less.

But now I'm at the point where I wonder if everything I do is going to be the last of that particular activity. Like today - I left work as if it were my last day, which I think I'll be doing every day from now on. The bad part about that is that from now forward I basically have nothing to do at work, because my boss isn't going to throw any major time-sensitive projects my way. So we'll see how well I hold my focus. My poor officemate is afraid I am going to go into labor at work and somehow she'll be responsible for delivering the baby. Everyone else wants to start a pool predicting the date and time of birth. More power to 'em.

Okay, enough random rambling...I am nervous to go to bed, not knowing what the mysterious night will bring. Oh, and for you Barry, since you asked, another picture of Mike with no shirt:

Mike and Poker on the new love seat - hot.

Mixed bag of things as we enter the home stretch

May 1 came and went, officially sending us into the home stretch. I woke up that morning thinking, "Oh my gd, the baby is due THIS MONTH." Whoa. We have decided that we would begin to be prepared on this day, even though there are still many loose ends to tie up.

Had our first of the now weekly doctor appointments - my weight gain wasn't quite as astronomical as I feared it would be. Super Baby is measuring quite big - 6lbs, 10oz. Granted it could be off by as much as a half pound in either direction, but at the rate of gaining a half pound every week til delivery, we're looking at an 8lb+ kid. Not that that should be shocking, given our heights, but still... Oy. Please don't be huge - you have to sleep in the Pack N Play until we order a crib, and it will only hold you up to 15lbs!

Meanwhile, last night I had my first real "oh shit, I need a forklift to roll over" moment in bed. I was propped up with the Snoogle while I was reading, and when I was done I tried to slither down into a horizontal position and COULD NOT do it. For starters, I think I pulled something back when I went bowling over a month ago because every time I try this move it hurts...but last night was worse. Mike came in to give me a hand and I could barely roll over either. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

With that in mind, I've decided to reassign my due date, and I'm hoping that Super Baby gets the memo. Here's how it goes baby: don't come before the 21st (my last big event for work) but feel free to appear on the 22nd, 23rd, or 24th. That way you'll be fresh in time for Grandma and Grandpa Silverstein's arrival and they'll have a whole week with you and we won't have to make them sit around the hospital waiting room while on vacation, or go back to MA only to have to turn around and come right back. Wouldn't that be nice? Yeah, I thought so. So thanks in advance for your cooperation.

Check-off list of things to do, in no particular order:

• Birth class - done!
• Fried chicken craving - satisfied!
  
• Last trip to San Diego - done!
• Stroller - assembled!
• Car seat - not installed yet, and the damn CHP is booked all month for inspections! WTF???
• Shabbaton - this weekend, our last real plans that we don't want to be busted
• Furniture - dammit, someone PLEASE buy our couch! The new one is here and looks fabulous, but the old one is propped up vertically against the balcony door. We need to get it out ASAP, if nothing else so we can get our carpets cleaned and get some cash to put towards our dream glider.
• Random projects - still outstanding, too many to count
• Pack N Play - assembled, more or less. The instructions ran a close second to IKEA's stick figure/no words in any language instructions, but I think we managed. Poker has discovered this new piece of furniture (not the only one in the house, and boy is he pissed at the new arrangement), and you can see below how he enjoys it. Thanks to Tony and Kim for their suggestion of tin foil, which apparently cats hate, to put in it to keep him out. Worked last night...we'll have to see about it's long-term viability before the baby arrives.

And my last gripe of the week is that I am sick of my clothes. I went to a bridal shower last weekend, and everyone was wearing cute sundresses and platform sandals. I was waddling around in flip flops, feeling like a whale...I guess there's no better motivation for losing baby weight than the summer sales I will inevitably get to take advantage of! And PS, when people say "don't spend a lot of money on maternity clothes because you only wear them for a few months" they should also add "and because you will spill everything you eat and look like a dirty slob." My outfit today is a real winner - couple big ol' stains on the pants, and one smaller one on the shirt.

Seriously, I'm over it. Bring it on Super Baby!

Baby Mama drama

We saw a free sneak preview of BABY MAMA on Weds night. Since it was a sneak preview, it was first come first serve, and so since we were a little late we ended up sitting in the very first row (I didn't think we were gonna get in at all). Since nobody likes sitting in the front row at the movies, and since I've always been one for complaining about things I've received for free, I went up to the usher and said "Hey, my wife's 8 months pregnant, can we sit in those 2 empty handicapped seats?" And she gave me a hard time! Now I'm sure she is underpaid and angry, and probably has a protocol to follow of who you can allow to sit in the handicapped seats and who you can't, and how long you have to wait before you give up those seats, etc., but come on! We're at a movie about pregnant people, and you can't throw the real pregnant people a bone! So I played the mommy-daddy game (hopefully my kid will never find out about this strategy) and found another usher, asked her the same question, and she gave us the handicapped seats, which had ample legroom and a better view of the screen. Silversteins 1, Landmark Theaters 0.

BABY MAMA was all right, certainly not up there with other recent pregnancy comedies like JUNO and WAITRESS. Now that we've been through most of this process (except of course for the Big Hoo-rah), we've found that there is a lot of humor to be mined from the pregnancy experience, and BABY MAMA missed a lot of good opportunities. For example, they did have a few scenes set at a birthing class, and though a lot of jokes were on the money, they could have gone further with them. They also had the birthing instructor speak in a "mawwage is what bwings us togevewr today" accent, which was kinda dumb. Overall, eh.

The main reason why I'm blogging though is to further comment on Kim's last post, about twins. It is SO RIDICULOUS that people would ask us if we're having twins, considering:

a) it's common knowledge that women in general don't like to be referred to as fat; and
b) you'd think we'd know pretty early on if it was twins or not.

So you can imagine what it's like when some schmuck comes up to you and says "Wow you're really big in the belly! Are you sure it's not twins?" I'm not sure what the proper response to this is, but I'm guessing it's something along the lines of "Thanks. You're really big in the ass! And you're not even carrying a child inside of you! That's wonderful! You know now that you mention it, it might be twins. I mean, I've been going to the doctor about once every 2 weeks for the past 7 months now, and I've seen multiple ultrasounds, and all signs are pointing to one kid. However, I'm sure your expert opinion supersedes all that. Maybe my doctor and all the nurses and technicians I've worked with for over half a year have been really, really high when they were doing my checkups."

In non-baby news, does anyone want to buy our red couch? It's a really nice couch and we need to get rid of it before the baby comes. $325 and that's a bargain...

- Big Papi

How many?

It's not twins, okay? Just one baby in there. And no, not a couple more weeks. More like 6.

Who asks that? I'm not THAT huge!

Tummy Time

Pound for pound...I'm catching up to you Mike!

We took tummy pictures this past weekend...yes, WE. Mike posed for some too. And on the topic, our 4 year old friend Eva had a profound observation about my belly. She was blown away by my now flat belly button, and explained that the baby had kicked me so hard that my innie was now an outie! And believe me, the baby will keep kicking until the belly button flies off my stomach all together. That seems to be it's goal these days.

Other than that, all is good...nothing much new to report. Hospital tour - done (seems like a sweet set up). My weight gain is much better these past two weeks (as opposed to the alleged binge from the previous month), and in two weeks we get to see the little goober again at the last ultrasound. This weekend is the big furniture swap, where we move the bed out of the spare room and send it to Mark's new apartment while we replace a few other things (bookshelves, desk, etc) and start figure out where the kid is actually going to live. Which reminds me...does anyone reading this need a sofa? We're also swapping that out, and you can get a jump on it before it hits Craig's List. Let me know.

My take on the birthing class

Since I was so summarily insulted in Kim's last post, I will now give my thoughts on the birthing class (we have attended 3 of them now). The woman who runs it, Connie, is very hippy-dippy touchy-feely about the whole birth thing, and very pro-doulah, anti-drug. We have been told many times about how wonderful a doulah is and how a focus on breathing can get one through any amount of pain, but we really haven't been given the answers to questions like "what happens when my wife gets an epidural?" or "how will the birth be different with an epidural?" Cause I gotta believe that Kim is getting an epidural, especially after the "play through the pain" exercise we did last class which involved holding ice for 60 seconds. Kim was NOT happy about that, and something tells me that childbirth will be worse than holding ice for a minute. Connie tried to help Kim with the exercise by rubbing her shoulders, and Kim responded by yelling "Bitch get yo funky hands offa me!" Well at least that's what the look that Kim gave her said.

We do a lot of breathing exercises in the class, which I excel at (too bad I won't be having the baby). Some of them are kind of silly though, especially the one where you breathe by saying "hee, pa" repeatedly. Just try it. "Hee, pa, hee, pa, hee, pa..." I don't know what that's supposed to do except make us laugh, which we often do during the class. In fact I spend more time trying not to lose it during the class than I do focusing on my breathing, or helping Kim focusing on her breathing, which basically involves me standing there looking supportive. The worst example of this was when Kim had to go to the bathroom, and while she was gone we did an exercise involving the partner leaning against the wall and the woman leaning back into him, while the two gently rock back and forth. Since Kim wasn't there, I practiced with the pillow. I held it firmly but softly, and whispered to it, "Shh honey, you're doing great... Breathe, that's it, good pillow..." Wouldn't you know it, a little throw pillow popped out! We call it Fluffy.

I try to stay mature and professional during the class, but Connie gives us so many openings for ribald humor that it's very difficult to remain serious. Whenever she expounds on the advantages of the perineal massage (go look it up), Kim and I exchange looks. We also practiced one birthing position in which the woman goes on all fours and the man goes behind her and grips her butt. "That's how we got into this mess in the first place!" I muttered.

In the end it'll all be worth it for next week's class, which is the tour of the delivery rooms and maternity wing of the hospital. That I think will be very helpful. Not that the class has been a complete waste - I certainly have learned a lot and gained some new vocabulary, like perineal massage. It's the massage that keeps on giving!

- Mike