No Surprises

I'm getting anxious and I don't like it. There's stuff that needs to get done before you go into the hospital to have a baby, but I seem to be having a problem functioning. So far I've done laundry for the little guy just to make sure all of his clothes are clean in case he starts freaking out for something that's dirty. I've washed and dried whatever was left of the baby clothes that hadn't been cleaned. My bag's been packed for about a week now. I've taken out the bouncy seat and am in the process of washing the cover. By the way, the little guy is taking a keen interest in the bouncy seat. I wonder how this is all going to pan out. I still need to take out the swing and the playpen. I need to do a load of my laundry so I'll have clean clothes when I get home from the hospital and am too overwhelmed to do anything at all. I have to pack a bag for the little guy since I'm not sure how long he'll be at my mom's. I would like to straighten up the house a bit more since I'm going to hate coming home to a disaster area. I think I'm more concerned about the little guy than anything else. He's in for a major disruption of routine, and I want to make it as pleasant for him as possible - which just isn't possible. He has school on Tuesday but I'm not sure yet if he's actually going to make it. I suppose in trying to keep things as normal for him as possible, it would be best if he goes. I don't like knowing when all of this is going to happen - there's just too much to do beforehand and too much to think about. Best to be surprised, but baby boy #2 appears not to be in the mood for surprises.

Induction Minus 2 Days

I went for my final gynecological visit yesterday and scheduled my induction for Monday morning. Ugh - I hate knowing when this will all come down. You know I won't get any sleep on Sunday night because I'll be anxious about the whole thing. What good will that do me? I won't have energy to push this little weasel out. Plus we have to be at the hospital at 6:30am. That's mighty early to get all of us up and out of the house by about 6am. Granted the little guy is up at about 5:30am every morning anyway, but that's still not enough time to get everyone together and in the car. Not sure yet if we'll drop him at my mom's or if we'll have someone come here to stay with him. Haven't quite figured out the logistics just yet. But I'd like to get a shower in before we leave and perhaps a little something to eat since I won't be eating for a better part of the day. A surprise arrival before then would actually be better for me. I don't do well with planned events, especially ones where I'm the center of attention. It reminds me of the night before piano recitals when I was young and learning to play. Or big exams at school, the SATs, presentations at work and now, the delivery of my second child. All cause for anxiety. All turned out okay in the end I suppose, but still, I respond much better to spontaneity. Maybe I'll get lucky this time and baby boy #2 will make a surprise appearance ahead of time. Or maybe he'll stick to the plan and be the obedient child I so long for. The one time I would truly appreciate a little disobedience and it will probably be the one and only time I won't get it.

Boys, Boys, Boys

What is it with 3 year olds and not listening? I have been battling with the little guy all day to "pick that up" or "come over here" all to no avail. He has no interest in listening to me at all. He just walks away. He's been in time-out, his games have been put out of reach on a shelf, and it just doesn't seem to phase him. Right now there is a pile of toys from a bin on the living room floor. He's watching Diego in the family room. I know, I should shut off the TV and have him clean up. But I'm so tired of hearing myself ask him to clean up, I can't even do it again. I just can't. I don't even want to hear it anymore. I'll be pleased if he gets in his pajamas and goes to bed and we start fresh tomorrow. Maybe that's all I can ask for right now. I just foresee a future of 2 boys never listening to me. Plus a husband who's a bit lax in the clean up department. I'm a bit saddened . . . and troubled . . . and saddened.

No Bed For You

I can't believe I'm 4 days from my due date and I still have not had this child yet. I called the hospital this morning because I was supposed to go in for my final non-stress test, and was told they have no beds again. This is distressing. What if I actually go into labor today? Do I just stay home and have the baby in the living room? Maybe wait in hubby's truck in the hospital parking lot and have it there. Why is there no bed in labor & delivery? How many women are pregnant in this area? And all having babies at the same time?? Come on. This is the 2nd time in 2 weeks that this happened. There can't be that many pregnant women around here. I don't see them. Where have they been hiding? I've been out - food shopping, clothes shopping. I don't see you anywhere. I'm starting to wonder if there really are no beds available. How can that be possible anyway? Shouldn't there be enough for emergency situations? Like for me if I go into labor today. This just makes me more nervous about the whole situation. And, quite frankly, I don't like it. I want a nice room overlooking the river - just what I was promised for Christ's sake. This is why I wanted an induction days ago. But no, let's make the old pregnant woman suffer longer and on top of that make her worry that she won't even have a bed to deliver the baby in. Nice. Thanks. Just what I need - another reason for my blood pressure to go up.

Due Date Minus 5 Days

In an effort to find some sort of positivity in my miserable daily existence, I am listing my Top 10 Reasons Why I'm Glad I STILL Didn't Go Into Labor:

1. More distance between the little guy's birthday and baby boy #2's birthday
2. The weather's nicer and it's warmer out
3. One day closer to swine flu going away
4. Friends are calling more frequently to check on how I'm doing (aka pity)
5. The car seat is still not in the car
6. My nightly wake-ups are due to discomfort, not screaming
7. My husband is finally expressing sympathy for my condition
8. The cold we've passed to each other seems to have gone away
9. One less whining male in the house
10. I actually got to watch a full season of all my TV shows

Due Date Minus 7 Days

I went for what was hopefully my last round of bloodwork and 24 hour urine sample drop off this morning. I go to LabCorp so frequently I feel like they should know me, but for some reason they don't. That's ok - I really don't want to go back there again anyway. I am very tired today. Sleeping is getting much more difficult. The weight of my baby belly is pulling me when I lay down on my side so I'm just too uncomfortable to stay in any position too long. I don't want to sleep sitting up, but during the day I could . . . and sometimes do if the little guy gives me a few minutes to close my eyes. I had a very fitful sleep and then I was up early because I couldn't even try to get comfortable anymore. I think I'm even too tired to hear myself complain. Now that's something unusual for me.

Am I the Only One?

In the past 6 hours, my husband has spoken with 3 different women who have had children. When they asked how I was doing considering I was fast approaching my due date, my husband told them I was miserable with all the kicking and the discomfort. When asked if they experienced any sort of the same problems towards the end of their pregnancy, they each responded, "No." One of them worked right up until the end of her pregnancy and actually said it was an easy pregnancy. Hate her. Another said she had some discomfort but nothing awful. Hate her, too. The other really didn't profess anything profound, just like it was another day. And I hate her as well. Is it just me? Am I the only one suffering with an alien child and limbs coming out in every direction? Am I carrying the most active child ever known to mankind? Is my body just not built for carrying another person inside? These are the thoughts dominating my existence today . . . and it's really starting to make me angry. Please, for the love of God, tell me there's somebody else out there who's suffered at the end of their pregnancy. It's just not fair.

Due Date Minus 9 Days

I took my miserable, cranky, uncomfortable, unable to walk self to the high risk group of doctors yesterday for my final ultrasound. And it better be final - I just can't take anymore of this. The tech does her thing - pushing and poking and moving that thing around to get the shots she needs - and does her measuring and her commenting. All the while I'm writhing in pain because she's pushing that tool down pretty hard on my belly button (which is basically non-existent these days but still hurts) and baby boy #2 is moving around in a space where there is just no room to move around. There are limbs and hineys poking out of my abdominal area at random moments during the scan - talk about uncomfortable. Amniotic fluid looks good, heartbeat looks good, head is down and face is down. Everything looks good. OK, that's a relief. Then the doctor comes in. A man. And let me preface this again by saying he's a man . . . who's never had a baby. He takes that damn tool and starts pushing and poking around to see the baby and now baby boy #2, for some reason, is really moving around in there. Every once in a while, the doctor says, "Ooh. That was a little kick." or "Yeah, he's moving around in there." NO KIDDING!!!! I'm in agony here. Can you please help me out? Dim wit thinks I'll be back for another scan in 2 weeks. Uhm, if you look at my chart again, you'll see I'm due in 10 days. So he figures since this will be the last scan, he better get a baby measurement. More poking and prodding, more writhing on my part and then he comes back with 7 lbs. 7 oz. OK, now I start to get nervous. The little guy was 7 lbs. 2 oz. and that was fine. If baby boy #2 is already bigger, I'm in trouble. I don't want a big baby. I want a healthy baby but not a big baby that's just not gonna fit through my tunnel. You ladies understand. Then the doctor does something I consider to be really stupid. He starts talking about pre-eclampsia and that the blood pressure pills I'm taking could be masking any pre-eclampsia I might have and that I could have seizures if I did have pre-eclampsia. This MAN has apparently no common sense when it comes to dealing with a miserable, cranky woman who is 39 weeks pregnant. Does he think I want to hear about anything else that could potentially go wrong? Do I want to hear about seizures when I'm hanging on by a thread here? I'm looking for inducement and you're giving me a death sentence. WTF is wrong with this MAN???? Then he says "But everything looks ok so I guess you'll just finish out until your due date." Thanks the F*#@ a lot, moron. Now I'm completely freaked out that I could have pre-eclampsia but the meds are hiding it and I could also have a seizure at any given moment. On top of that, if I don't have a spontaneous seizure, I have to push out a large child - which is going to be painful. The next 9 days should be great! It'll be smooth sailing until my due date thanks to you, you friggin' knucklehead. I want sympathy, compassion, mind-easing. Not hard up facts about worst-case scenarios. But then again, this is a man I'm dealing with. Need I say more?

Waiting For a Miracle

I went for my 2nd non-stress test this morning praying for a miracle that someone somewhere would recommend inducement, but no such luck. "Everything looks great!" said the nurse who administered the test. Super. "Ok, so we'll see you next week," she said. Fantastic. Don't get me wrong - I'm eternally grateful and thankful that everything is fine with baby boy #2. I'm just beyond the point of being miserable. I can't walk - I shuffle along. I can't really eat - there's just no room in there. When the baby starts moving around, I could cry out in pain. He's hitting ribs and there are limbs sticking out in all directions at the same time. And now I'm constantly wondering if I'll know I'm in labor so I'm looking for symptoms. Since I was induced with the little guy, I don't know what to expect if I spontaneously go into labor. I'm waiting for my water to break or some major contractions to occur. I don't know what I'm doing. It almost feels like the first time all over again. I go tomorrow to see the high risk group (since I'm 157 years old with borderline high blood pressure) and I'm looking for some sort of mercy. If I could have the baby this weekend, I will be the happiest person on the planet . . . for now.

What If . . .

I'm catching the little guy's cold and I feel like crap. Being 38+ weeks pregnant, I'm getting nervous about being sick while delivering baby boy #2. What exactly happens in those instances? Do I have to wear a mask so the baby won't get sick? Won't that freak him out? The first time he sees his mom, I'll have a mask over my face like Michael Jackson. Even I'm freaked out just thinking about it. Will I be strong enough to push during labor? I imagine the adrenaline will kick in and I won't even feel like I have a cold. But what if I'm wrong? I can "what if" all day when it comes to illness. I'm a bit of a hypochondriac. I know - not good when you have children. I was hoping I'd be over it by now, but I don't think I am. I knew it would be inevitable that I would get his cold. Even dear hubby started sneezing last night. He's usually immune to everything, but it seems the little guy can take the big guy down. So I started looking up similar stories online about women who were sick with colds during labor. I read about one woman who coughed during labor and the baby's head popped out. I'm conflicted about that. On the one hand, that was easy. On the other, that freaks me out. When I was sick all winter (and I do mean all winter) with a sinus infection, I would feel afraid at times that I was pushing the baby down with all my coughing. If I start coughing now, I will be paranoid the child's head will suddenly appear. Talk about being freaked out. Then I worry about the little guy being sick around a newborn. How does that work? Do I have to keep them away from each other? Talk about bad first experience - for both of them. What about the hubby? Can he hold the baby? What about my mom? She's so susceptible to everything I'll be afraid to let her in my hospital room if I'm still sick. See what I mean? I can literally go on all day with this. Best to just sit tight and wait it out. If you wait long enough, things tend to work themselves out. At least that's what I'm telling myself right now. But what if I'm wrong?

Once Upon a Time

I sometimes reminisce to a time about 15 or so years ago when I was in the thralls of bar-hopping and clubbing. Sometimes I'm relieved those days are over. That was when people could still smoke in bars and clubs in New Jersey so I always came home stinking like smoke. I would have to air out my jackets and pocket books and put my hair up off my face over night so I wouldn't be inhaling the smell of smoke while I slept. And then there was sleep - or lack thereof. If I went out on Wednesday nights, as was popular at the time, I would average about 4 hours of sleep before I had to get up for work the next day. That was rough . . . and yet I continued to do it . . . for years. There was something great about going out with a couple of girlfriends, watching a band play, drinking a couple of beers and having a good time. Sometimes I miss those days. I don't get much of a chance to go out now since having the little guy and being pregnant, but my husband is out just about every weekend. He plays guitar in a band as a hobby and I have gone to see him, just not lately. And I have to say, things are different than they were 15 years ago. My girlfriends and I used to dress to kill - I mean we looked HOT. I would say 99% of the time, we were in little dresses or skirts with heels or boots. Once in a while even shorts with boots - which always worked on the guys. But now, well let's just say the girls go out wearing what they had on all day. That means jeans, a shirt and sneakers or flip flops. I get it, it's more casual now than back in the early 90s. But how about a little effort, ladies. There are so many cute clothes out there, why not look good? Why not make the effort? And I'm not saying for the guys. Who cares about them. For you. Look good because you can. Because now is the time. When you're stuck at home with kids spitting up on you or painting your shirt, that's when you wear something casual. I would LOVE to get dressed up and go out to a club to see a band. Hell I'd probably go shopping just for that night out. Put on a cute little top (once the baby fat is gone of course) and a cute little skirt and maybe some boots or some awesome wedges. Oh to be young and in the clubs again. These girls don't realize they're wasting a prime opportunity to look good. I'm making a pledge that once baby boy #2 finally arrives and I lose the baby fat and I find a sitter that I trust, I'm going to see my husband's band play for an hour or two and I'm going to look hot again. For me . . . and maybe a little bit for him too. But mostly for me. Maybe seeing a hot 40 year old will inspire these girls to want to look good. Or maybe they'll laugh. Either way, I'll feel good knowing I can still pull it off. And I will.

Quiet Mother's Day

Mother's Day didn't exactly turn out as planned. We were supposed to go to my mom's for lunch but the little guy decided he would come down with a wicked cold the night before. I couldn't chance bringing him around my mom, who is a combined cancer and heart patient. She's too susceptible to illness and shouldn't risk being around anyone sick. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I shouldn't be around her either since I've been face to face with the little sick guy for days and who knows what I'm carrying. So Mother's Day was yet another day at home, feeling huge and miserable, with the little sick guy and dear hubby. It wasn't a bad day, just an uneventful day. I did get what I asked for months ago - a cascading solar fountain for our backyard - plus a Scrabble game to play on my Nintendo DS while in the hospital. I was pleased with the gifts, pleased that the little sick guy followed my husband around all day giving me some peace and quiet, and pleased that all seemed right with the world. Now if only the constant moving being inside my belly would come on out and join us, all would be right with the world.

Conflict of Interest

For the past 2 days, I've been wanting to write about the Elizabeth Edwards interview on Oprah . . . but I'm conflicted. I'm still not sure how I feel about the whole thing. On the one hand, I feel like the woman is in denial. Her husband tells her he had an affair, but it only happened once. A year and a half later, he tells her it was more than once. Uhm, could you have waited any longer to tell her that oh so important piece of information? Just when she's trying to rebuild trust with him, he decides to tell her he lied yet again. WTF??? That's bad enough for any woman to deal with, but here's a woman with terminal cancer. Like she doesn't have enough to worry about - she's dying, she has young children, and now a philandering husband. Super! It really doesn't get much worse. Oh wait, yes it does. The "other woman" had a baby and nobody knows if it's his. WTF???????? Here's where the denial part comes in. Elizabeth doesn't know or want to know if it's her husband's baby since it doesn't affect her life. Of course it does. If it is his baby, which we all know it is, he has to support it and that support is taken away from you, thereby affecting your life. Here's where my conflict kicks into gear. Part of me just wants her to find some strength from somewhere to bash his head into the wall and say "What the hell is wrong with you? I'm dying!!! You're supposed to love and support me until death do us part, you lousy bastard." But this woman, apparently, is not the type. And when she explained herself and her thought process, the other part of me could kind of understand why she chooses to stay with him. Here's my interpretation of what she's thinking: She's dying. She needs someone to take care of her. She needs someone to take care of their children. Sometimes it's just easier to overlook the indiscretions to get by. She's not allowing this indiscretion, however big it may be, to define their life. Like I said, I kind of get that. Kind of. I just don't know how you ever forgive a man who kicks you when you're down. And it's really more than a kick. It's a karate chop to the heart. How do you stay married to that person? Why do you stay married to that person? Maybe I'm naive because I've never had that happen to me. I hear stories of women who choose to ignore the fact that there's another woman and are just happy their husbands are coming home to them. That I don't get. Why would you want him to come home? Why do you make it easy for him? Why is that behavior tolerated? It's not okay to treat your wife like that. But there's a catch. Here's what Elizabeth Edwards said that stuck with me. She, of course, blames her husband for what he did but she also said women need to respect other women. It takes work to build a marriage, to build a home, to have a family. It's not right for another woman to come along, like what she sees, push you out of the way, and take what she wants. This gave me pause. She's worked hard for many years to build a life with this man and it's not fair that someone else should be able to come in and take that away. So she's not letting that happen. She's choosing to hold on to that life and not give it to someone else. Maybe that's a lesson for all of us. Maybe we should respect what others have. Maybe I wouldn't be so quick to let some other woman come in and take over what I've worked so hard to accomplish either. Maybe I'm not so conflicted after all. Or maybe I'd still bash his head into the wall and say "What were you thinking?"

The Perfect Shirt

I can't seem to find any clothes that I'm comfortable in these days. My maternity clothes just don't fit me right. They seem so tight and make me look humongous. Actually, I am humongous. Then there are the clothes that seem to flatter one part of my anatomy right now that doesn't need to be pointed out - my belly button. I HATE the protruding belly button. Not only is it hideous to look at, it hurts. My belly button hurts when an article of clothing breezes over it, never mind my 3 year old saying "Mommy, what's this?" and touching it. That just gives me the heebee jeebees. So in an attempt to still look kind of cute, I stopped at Marshall's this morning after dropping the little guy off at school. I was in desperate need of tops and, fortunately, there are lots of loose-fitting tops for sale out there. As I perused the aisles, I thought JACKPOT. Lots of big, comfy shirts. I put about 5 of the biggest ones I could find in my cart, then I stopped to check out some big flowy dresses and put 3 of them in my cart. I was feeling good. I was getting that rush I used to get from shopping. In an effort to avoid sweating to death and becoming completely exhausted, I figured I would just buy everything, bring it home and whatever didn't fit or look right, I would just return. I got home and started the fashion show. First one was too tight - Mr. belly button was on display. Return pile. Next, not sure if I like it when it's on. Unsure pile. Next, not too bad. Keep pile. This went on for a few minutes until, at the bottom of the bag, there it was. The perfect shirt. I took it out, put it on and voila! I looked great for a 9 month pregnant woman. It was so comfortable and hung so beautifully, I'm still wearing it now. This is now my favorite shirt. I don't even think I want the other stuff. I think when I return everything else, I'll just pick up more of the perfect shirts. My shopping trip was a success - one perfect shirt. What more can a woman ask for?

A Boy's Mom

In an effort to feel better about having 2 boys, I've decided that maybe, just maybe, I'm a boy's mom. Here are the reasons I've come up with so far as to why I think I'm a boy's mom:

1. I like the color blue.
2. I like watching sports.
3. I don't mind getting dirty.
4. I don't mind a room or two being messy - it's the whole house I'm taking issue with.
4. No PMS - my own is enough.
5. I have no patience for whining.
6. I can only coddle for so long - then it gets old.
7. Eating disorders are just too stressful.
8. I like thinking I'll have big, strong boys to watch over me when I'm older.
9. I prefer strange boys coming to the house to play with my son not date my daughter.
10. I look forward to being the queen of the castle, without a princess right behind me.

Mini-Vacation

So yesterday was my non-stress test at the hospital in labor & delivery. This is what I was apparently stressing about for several days now. This was BLISS! First of all, labor & delivery was so quiet you would think you just entered a library. There were no deliveries going on while I was there, and if there were, they were c-sections. I walk the long corridors (very long) and followed the nurse to my room. It was a lovely, quiet room with a view of the river. After the nurse hooked my belly up to the monitor, I laid in that bed with no lights, no TV, just the sound of baby boy #2's heartbeat and felt . . . completely relaxed. For the first time in years, I was alone in a room with no child, no husband, no mother, no one chatting me up or asking me questions or yelling at me to wake up. This was a mini-vacation that I truly had not expected. Granted it only lasted an hour, but this was the best hour I could remember in a long time. Who would've thought going to the hospital would've proven to be such a wonderful experience? I'm looking forward to next week's non-stress test for another mini-vacation. Sad, but true.

Excuses, Excuses

So the little guy is 3 and he's still wearing pull-ups. I almost feel like a failure except I have an excuse - I'm pregnant. I don't know how good of an excuse it is, but it is MY excuse. I'm honestly too tired to stay on top of the whole potty thing. And I know I'll be tired after baby boy #2, especially with no sleep, but it's a different tired. When I'm pregnant, I can wake up after sleeping for hours and feel exhausted. I can be rested, fed and basically in a good mood (that is so rare I don't know why I typed it) and yet still exhausted. I always said that the only time I felt good when I was pregnant was when I was sleeping. Pathetic way to live 9 months of your life, but that's pretty much how it goes for me. What would possess me to do that more than once? I really can't say, but ask me again in a few weeks. So that's the story I'm going with as to why the little guy is still in pull-ups. Maybe when he sees his baby brother wearing diapers, he'll decide to use the potty. Is that unrealistic? Probably. But that's all I've got right about now.

A Match Made in Hell

I think I'm going to start shopping at WholeFoods Market. We had some subs left over from the little guy's party yesterday and I was DESPERATE for one. I haven't had any cold cuts or tuna since getting pregnant. Usually I'm not a big sandwich girl, but when I found out I couldn't have any because of listeria (please), I wanted one. Since these left over subs were cut into quarters, I figured there could be no harm in having just a little tuna and cheese. I took a bite. Wow - that tasted good. But something in the back of my head was chirping at me. I know about the mercury-tuna situation. When I was pregnant 3 years ago with the little guy, I was able to have tuna but only once a week. This time, absolutely no tuna was the advice from my ob/gyn. WHAT??? Isn't this all getting a little extreme? I'm hungry for Christ's sake. Aren't you supposed to be able to eat whatever you want when you're pregnant and not feel guilty? Why couldn't I get pregnant 10 years ago when none of this was an issue? That's another issue. So that nagging chirp in the back of my head led me to the computer to look up mercury in tuna. I found a recent article, from 2009, that stated there was mercury in high fructose corn syrup. WHAT?? High fructose corn syrup was being processed in mercury. I don't claim to even understand exactly what that means but I do know it's not good. What the hell is going on? My husband has been trying to avoid high fructose corn syrup for at least a year now and has been finding it difficult. That damn syrup is in EVERYTHING. Couple that with mercury and that is sending me to Whole Foods. I don't even want to know the crap I've been eating for the past 40 years and the damage it is doing to my body. Does it taste good? Absolutely? Do I want to know why it tastes so good? No. Because then I won't eat it. Especially since I'm trying to form a child in my belly. Sometimes the less you know, the better. And I'm usually that girl. What I don't know won't hurt me. Let me just live my life. But this time, I put the rest of that tiny tuna sub back in the fridge and started to worry about all the things I've eaten over the past 9 months that contain high fructose corn syrup AND mercury. Suddenly I wasn't that hungry anymore.

It's All in the Presentation

It's been a long weekend. Friday I had to go for an ultrasound at the high risk group just to make sure everything was ok with baby boy #2 since my blood pressure has been on the rise. Turns out everything is fine and baby boy #2 already weighs just over 6 lbs. I'm pleased all is well, it is a relief, but I'm afraid he's going to be a tad too big for me by the time I deliver. The little guy weighed 7 lbs. 2 oz. when he was born and that was fine for me. Much bigger than that, and I start to get a little nervous. As long as he's healthy and he can squeeze on out, I'm ok. I'm praying for a smooth delivery, and a speedy one. After the scan, I went to pick up the little guy at my parents' house. It was a balmy, humid day and I couldn't keep my eyes open. I listened to my body and just laid down for about an hour. There went my Friday afternoon of getting anything done. And believe me when I say I needed to get things done - Saturday was the little guy's 3rd birthday party. I'm not sure what possessed me to have a "small" party for him (oh who am I kidding, it was guilt) but I invited immediate family only, which consisted of about 10 people. That was more than enough. I didn't cook - pizza, subs, cake and cookies - but I felt like I did. This is one of my problems: I tend to stress about having people over the house. I feel the need to have everything in order and present them with a lovely display of food and entertainment. My husband does not feel the same: straighten up, put out some snacks and let them entertain themselves. He's definitely the yin to my yang. Anyway, I picked up the cake in the morning, came home to clean and was still trying to put out some snacky food when guests started arriving. Then the pizza and subs were delivered. The the little guy started opening presents - which I didn't even see on account of the food presentation I was working on. I tend to get caught up in the details instead of just going with the flow. I think I was born that way. I worry. I overthink. I plan. And then I don't enjoy. I will say I'm much better than I used to be, especially since the little guy came along. My house is not a showroom. I order food instead of trying to make it. I clean up after the party instead of during (my husband will still disagree with that). And the funny thing is I love having people over. I want to have company over more than I don't. I thought I would be more limited in what I could do and how long I would last since I am 9 months pregnant, but somehow I managed. I was exhausted at 7pm after everyone had gone home. My sciatic nerve was shot. I could barely walk. But I think it went well and I pulled it off. The little guy was happy . . . and that's all that really matters anyway.