Thursday, November 30, 2006

down but not out

At my 33 week check-up yesterday the doctor confirmed that our little one has migrated into the head-down position. We knew she had moved somewhat because her little movements are in totally different areas than before. Mostly she likes to curl her toes around my ribs and hang out like a little baby bat.

Last Friday she assumed such an awkward, protruding position along my left side that we thought she might just pop through my skin and onto the bed, like a little projectile baby. I've heard crazy stories, but when you actually see your belly bending and stretching beyond any of your wildest imaginings, you finally understand just how crazy this pregnancy thing really is.

Ben took a picture, but it doesn't quite capture the feeling (ouch!) nor the hilarity of the event. She actually assumed the position twice before settling into her current c-shaped arrangement. Since our doc confirmed the position now Ben can sing and conversate with her without wondering if he's talking into her little bootie.

Monday, November 27, 2006

Giving Thanks

I have an amazing family, and for them I am truly grateful.

A few pictures from the big day:

3 pregnant cousin's wife at 25 weeks, my sister-in-law at 24 weeks and me at 32 weeks

My hubby, who is quite the pushover for our little niece...can you imagine how he'll be when Maddie arrives??!!!

Sunday, November 05, 2006

Why Oh Why... they make flesh-colored speedos?

Since we started training for our triathlon last January, I've been frequenting a local pool to swim a few times a week. Since I've been pregnant, it's been a great way to get exercise without overworking my heartrate or joints.

Which brings me to my current dilemma: Why do grown men (old grown men, at that) think it is okay to wear flesh-colored speedos, let alone wear speedos at all? As if it weren't bad enough seeing these men several times a week at the pool, a recent occurrence made me want to hang up my goggles altogether.

Flesh-colored Speedo Old Guy (hereafter referred to as FSOG) undresses right on the pool deck, and on the first occassion in which I first laid be-goggled eyes on him, I thought to myself, "the guy left his undershorts in his sweatpants." But, upon closer inspection, I realized that no, in fact, he was wearing what I now know to be the aforementioned speedos.

As if this wasn't enough to make me want to switch lanes (let alone pools), FSOG is also a splasher. There are a few annoying swimming styles which happen to find the open lane right next to me every time (much like the phenomena in which you find yourself at the grocery store, always behind the person who forgets a certain item and leaves their cart in front of yours to run back to aisle 1,072 and return 3 weeks later). Anyway, among the most annoying styles are FSOG aka "the splasher," green speedo guy aka "the water plow" and "Olympic Hopeful" nos. 1 and 2. All of them swim in such a way as to move the greatest amount of water from their lane into mine, filling my open, breathing mouth with buckets of chlorinated H20.

But I'm getting away from the real story. Just when I though I'd seen it all, I found myself swimming along (quite well, despite my 7-month pregnant belly) in the deep end of the pool. Basic pool etiquette (not unlike public bathroom stall etiquette) led me to choose a lane at least once removed from the swimmers on either side. To my right, one open lane between me and the rope. To my left, 3 open lanes between myself and Olympic Hopeful no. 2. Guess what lane FSOG chooses? The one between me and the rope. As I returned to the side of the pool, I thought to myself, I'll just have to move over a lane, not as much to keep etiquette as to avoid drowning in only 10 feet of water.

As I neared the edge, FSOG dove in, not only splashing me with lots of water (a given), but giving my de-fogged goggled eyes a clear, open glimpse of his old, fleshy, hairy crack above the top of his old, stretched-out, flesh-colored speedos.