Of course I’m kidding.

This is Charlotte taking a bath in the nursery.

Jennifer and Charlotte.
Okay, I’ve got to go back to the hospital, so that’s it from your sous-chef until the master gets back this weekend.

This is Mark speaking to you from the guise of Jennifer’s account.
I’m not sure what to say … since there are so many ridiculous stories to be told (or it could turn into one ridiculously long blog entry) … but I’ll leave those for the boss, since she knows how to post images. However, the title of this post was overheard as Jennifer was recovering.
From what, you ask?
9:40 am, January 28th, Charlotte Josephine was born. Both mother and baby are fine, and will be home on the weekend.
Mass: 2.966 kg (okay, since I know that most of you will be reaching for the Metric to Imperial Converter … I know you all have one handy, especially for your litres to kilderkin conversions … that’s 6 pounds, 8 ounces).
Length: 49 cm.
I really need to get more than three hours of sleep, so I’m going to leave it off there and let Jennifer recount the harrowing tale of the explosion-proof illuminator and Jennifer’s ridiculous spine.
Signed, one ridiculous happy father.

I totally like how I am a bigger hero for living in the soul sucking motherfucking ice hole of hell, than I am for giving birth sometime soon. Or maybe it just adds to my asskickedness. The weather is freakin’ appalling and if you want to keep track of how horrible it is here while I am trying to push out the 7.5-ish pound baby you can check: http://weatheroffice.ec.gc.ca/forecast/city_e.html?yxd As I am just about to go upstairs, have a bath and go to bed, it is -27F and -44F with the wind-chill. Why didn’t my ancestors settle in California?
So, the hospital called at 10pm and there is a bed for me tomorrow at 7:30 am for induction. Unless there is a rash of emergency inductions overnight, that is where I will be at 7:30 MST. They might use some sort of gel or some sort of balloon catheter *shiver* and then follow it up with some oxytocin. Isn’t that what Rush was addicted to? Anyhoo. I am scared, but sort of resigned. I just really hope they don’t bump me tomorrow morning, because the waiiiittttttting is the hardest part. I am going to go up to bed shortly to have a tubbie, take something to help me sleep for a while and then hopefully sleep for a while. Tomorrow morning I have to get up in time to shave myself in a suitable fashion for labour. I am guessing a brazillian is out of the question eh?
You know, regardless of the fact that bazillions of women have done this, many of whom I know, and have come out the other end fine… I am scared and nervous. Think of me fondly tomorrow and I will let Blogland know as soon as something of more substance happens.
Love J

sunshine is for pussies

Just lost an ENTIRE entry because my ISP sucks. At least today it does.
I have been trying to make a list of people to thank for things. This will be a shorter version because now I am tired and cranky.
Thanks to:
Styro-kitty for the most bitchin’ monkey socks (which I wore in the hospital) and a fabu’ monkey ornament which went on my Christmas tree.
To Lynn for the package of Year of the Monkey stuff! for the baby.


Here is Mark wearing the booties like monkey ears! He is so ingenious.
To Mrs. Dayment for Christmas coookies, a great CD and a DVD of She’s Having a Baby.
I think I already thanks Mia for the monkey patch, but just in case, thanks Mia, you roxors.
Thanks to Caitlin who made the sprog a sweater!


Here I am as of today, all fat and puffy and pregnant and high blood pressurey. Blah.

baby’s room

baby’s room

baby’s room
And I had a personal visit from UPS today via Mark and lets just say that he didn’t wear any brown shorts and the “P” didn’t stand for Package. I am so classy.
I will make an entry tomorrow and Tuesday morning I am supposedly off to be induced. I hope it doesn’t mean they will shake me by my ankles.

Not much for ya’ today. My pressure has been really high and I think I escaped a migraine by napping.
It turns out that our Doula is going to be with another couple on the day I am induced. The other couple of 10 days overdue and understandably jumps the queue since I am early and such. We are getting a “back-up” Doula, which I actually feel pretty ok with.
Since I slept so much today I am going to make an attempt at our one page birth plan that they like us to bring to the hospital. It includes information about pain management, breastfeeding, blah blah. Just so as the hospital sort of knows where we stand while I am shrieking MOTHERFUCKER at the top of my lungs and can’t explain my wishes.
Tis all for now.
Jen

I am tired and witless tonight. My pressure is creeping higher despite the rest and the drugs. My mom did help me (and when I say help I mean I pointed a lot) organize my closets and refold all my shirts and sweaters today. It was incredibly satisfying. Tomorrow I hope to tackle my bra and underwear drawer and time permitting my sock drawer. This stuff feels really important to me at the moment. This weekend I hope I can manage to make some bran muffins and freeze a lasagne, but I may need to completely keep horizontal. Apparently this is called nesting. I just don’t want things to be messy or out of order. When so much of what is going to happen in the next several days is completely foreign and unknown to me, having a perfect sock drawer is a good thing.
Oh! and I am not being induced until Tuesday now. Something to do with my OB’s schedule. Also, having sex can supposedly help bring on labour, so I have reluctantly asked Mark if he would comply. I figure it is a better alternative to the other chemical crap they might use to induce me, and hopefully less painful. Poor Mark, lets just say, he feels like I agreed to give him a kidney or something. But I guess semen has prostaglandins or some such stuff in it that can move things along. Ripen the cervix. SEE! the things you learn on jennui. I am feeling about as horny as a throw rug. woo. sex. yay. i. am. so. excited. take. me. now. I am working on it, I swear.
My internet was down all day at home today, so I wasn’t able to blog and surf and such, I feel so out of it. How sad it that?
Comments on comments:
I wanted to tell Erika, that the cookies will be eaten and not to worry. All I need is a little extra shot of insulin.
I am less worried about pooping than hairy legs.
The thought of snowy peering into my coochie during birth makes me laugh.
In my prime, I could TOTALLY have drank Britney Spears under the table.
I actually asked my Mark to see if the DnD nerds could come up with something magical for the birth when he went to his weekly game on Wednesday, but I guess some elves got in the way. DUDE, YOU’RE HANGIN’ WITH NERDS.
Witch hazel sounds stingy, but I will give it a go.
I also have been hoping for a girl, which is why I suspect its a boy. They like to be that way. And our magic 8 ball says its a boy like EVERYTIME. AND, this kid has it’s feet wedged into my rib cage, which also sounds like a boy-thing to do. Only time will tell I guess.

Joy of joys, I have my first hemorrhoid. Too much information you say? I have stopped caring. And I will continue sharing. I thought I would be getting a lot more scared by now, but I feel ok. No, it doesn’t really help that bazillions of woman have been pushing sprogs out their vaginas for gazillions of years. (pick that up will you?) It does sort of help that I am not the first though. I don’t mean to be all drama queen, but the reality of it sounds like complete nonsense. Do you Americans even understand how big 10 centimeters is?
My ankles are all puffy and I should be in bed, but tired as I am, I am having trouble sleeping for the last little while. Once I fall asleep I am ok, but until then I am preoccupied with contractions, epidurals, and now hemorrhoids. It is difficult to imagine that my bottom system will ever be the same.
I still haven’t packed my bag for the hospital. I know we aren’t scheduled to go ’til Monday, but really, anything could happen. I hear induction can sometimes take a while, so I am hoping like hell for a television. I am such a TV whore. It is my ultimate distraction and I can’t think of a better time to use its soothing crack-like, mind-numbing influence then while I am in the not severely fucking painful part of labour. I wish I could bring the cat, although he might not be much help. Ultimately, I wish the baby would magically appear with my perineum intact. Also, I am happy to be able to schedule leg shaving into my birthing experience. I have had this ongoing fear of some poor resident or nurse or such having to stare at my hairy legs while I am delivering. At the time I probably won’t give a shit, but right now, it keeps me up at night. How much body hair is appropriate to shave before going into the hospital to give birth? I need to know?!
Uninteresting note: I had never had Rice Krispies cereal until I was in the hospital. Growing up we ate organic, granola-like, sugar free, hippy cereal, so I missed out on most commercial brands. We occasionally got Honeycombs as a treat, but mostly tree bark and such. I have now consumed two boxed of puffed rice goodness since being in the hospital. Hey, its low in sugar and since I can’t indulge in buckets of ice cream, cakes, tubs of frosting, and other such sugary delights what with being diabetic and all, I am relishing the melodious sound of snap, crackle, and pop instead. Ah, that Pop, such a scamp. Ok, I am getting sleepy and weird I think.
I am going to try and take some pictures of the baby’s room, because I am lame. I am also going to post some photos of some cute things that people around Blogland have sent me. I fucking love you people (gifts or not).
p.s. hemorrhoid cure suggestions are welcome

Today I had a nap and sent an email! Bed rest is for chumps. Today was actually couch rest. I think either will suffice. My pressure is a little high today so I thought I would actually take it easy and not fake it easy. ha! I kill me.
Since I missed blogging over Christmas, I thought I should share my yuletide memories with you now. Unfortunately I don’t remember much. Oh oh! The best part was at Christmas Eve mass, my three-year-old niece was sitting on my knee and someone farted in the pew (ha!) near us. Niece 2 says; “AUNTIE JEN I SMELL PEANUT BUTTER!

I am feeling all washed out rap star these days it seems. Today’s news is that I will be induced on Monday. Motherfucker. I have changed my mind. Have you seen how big a baby is? DO YOU KNOW WHERE IT COMES OUT OF? What was I thinking? I know it is a correct observation, but if one more person says that ‘it is all worth in the end’ is I will shiv them. Especially a man. Or even my mom. I mean my brother and I were adopted and she never had to push a melon out her coochie. There is still a chance the induction will be postponed a day or so, but next week we should have either a little Charlotte or James. Beyonce just didn’t seem practical.
I still want to refold everything in my closet, dresser, and armoire and organize my sock drawer. These things seem imperative to me now and it much be what they mean when they talk about nesting. My mom is going to continue to help me clean and tidy and organize, etc. Mark has been a great help as well. In fact, people have been lovely in general. Blog people have been fabulous. I have an assload of people to thank for gifties, notes, etc. Once I figure out where I am putting all my images, I will do so properly.
Having my mom around to help is like having the Tasmanian devil in the house. She is a 62 year old, 110 pound, 5 foot three powerhouse of cleaning and tidying. It is hard to rest when someone exudes that kind of metamorphic buzz all the freakin’ time. I am surprised her head doesn’t just spin off. She did manage to shrink a sweater of Mark’s though. 100% wool in warm water? Was she DRINKING? A huge lapse in judgment from me Ma’ who should have a PhD in homemaking. Martha should envy my mother.
I need to pack a bag for the hospital. Any suggestions for music, or toys (non-sexual {for now} please), etc, would be appreciated. Oh! And instead of buying a new nightstand for the baby’s room my mom took the one from our spare room. The one WITH ALL THE PORN MAGS in it. Sweet mother of god I hope she didn’t look in the drawers. I just don’t need my mom knowing such things. I would blame Mark, but they are all mine. Now I just need to clean out the nightstand drawer in our bedroom for similar such reasons. It is like your privacy gets compromised when you let people a) clean your house, and b) raise you.
p.s. i love you