Nursery Rhymes

Having a child has made me realize just how limited my recollection of nursery rhymes, songs and other baby-type poetry is. "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and "Twinkle Twinkle" are in the repertoire, and usually sung correctly, but thank goodness Pete has a massive memory for songs, cowboy or otherwise. I'm happy to report that Alex is a champ and puts up with me, but this morning's song took a record for ridiculousness, I'm sure. You'll recognize the first two verses, but things rapidly fall apart after that.

The Mockingbird Song - a rendition by Amy Chase

Hush little baby, don't say a word,
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.

If that mockingbird don't sing,
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring (I've never liked that line, for the record. Plus, this song is terrible from a grammatically-correct point of view...).

If that diamond ring don't shine,
Mama's gonna buy you a ball of twine.

If that ball of twine don't roll,
Mama's gonna buy you an ugly troll.

If that ugly troll don't growl,
Mama's gonna buy you a garden trowel.

If that garden trowel don't dig,
Mama's gonna buy you a juicy fig. (things start getting really bad here...)

If that juicy fig isn't fun (figs are fun?)
Mama's gonna buy you a big old gun (NO NO! I don't care if it rhymes, I refuse to get my child a gun and therefore refuse to use it in this song! Back it up, Amy, back it up!)

*edit*
If that juicy fig isn't good,
Mama's gonna buy you a piece of wood (um, what?)

If that piece of wood's not straight,
Mama's gonna buy you a, ummmm, big old plate.

If that big old plate's not flat,
Mama's gonna buy you a pussy cat (ok, on the upward tick again, despite my allergies...)

If that pussy cat don't meow,
Mama's gonna buy you a dairy cow (falling apart again).

If that diary cow don't moo,
Mama's not real sure what's she's gonna do.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is when Alex passed out.

Baby Alex

A little light on the text, but full of extreme cuteness.

Cute hat!

My boys

My first walk with my boys

Owl hat

Kissy face

Bubbles

Minutes before we walked out the door to meet Poppy

Venting

I'm not a complainer. Really, I'm not. I'm a glass-is-half-full, Pollyanna-type who regularly finds herself in trouble due to the aforementioned naivete, but really, I wouldn't have it any other way. Which is why, dear readers, I find myself in a conundrum. I. Am. Uncomfortable. I'm waddling. My clothes, even the huge ones, don't fit. I can't sleep. And some of those cute little kicks are getting less cute. Pregnant friends and acquaintances have shared, in their final few weeks, that they are DONE being pregnant, ready for the next round. I, apparently expecting to be immune to these final month discomforts, was in la-la land, fully and totally enjoying all things pregnancy. Until about two days ago.

Now, I will preface with a very truthful statement - I have LOVED being pregnant. I am amazed at what the body can do to grow another human. I haven't been sick. I have felt fantastic. And I know that besides being exhausted, I'm very very lucky to not have had any of the regular maladies of pregnancy (swelling, barfing, heartburn, weird skin, the list goes on. It really is a miracle that the human race continues...), it's fun to have the people in my life - both the really close ones, and the peripheral (the gals at the market, for instance) - comment on the growth and changes, and provide support. I will miss that. I will miss having this close physical connection to Poppy. I will miss the support from my fabulous husband who regularly rubs my back, draws a bath, cleans the kitchen and a million other tiny (and not so tiny) items in his already extremely busy life that not only make my day easier but make me feel supremely loved. And, the selfish part of me will miss this phase that is all about me. Next phase is all about baby.

But about two days ago, I started having inklings that perhaps, just perhaps, I'm ready to be done. And it hit me that I'm super pregnant. Mother Nature does a damn fine job of helping women past the adoration of pregnancy into the 'get this child out of me now' stage. And here are her most convincing tactics:

Lack of Sleep:
This is a big one. As a friend once put it "It's not fair or sane to pre-hobble someone before the baby arrives". I concur. Several trips to the loo each night. General hugeness of belly that absolutely forbids finding a comfortable position. Constant side-lying that puts your hip joints to sleep (um, what?). And not being 'allowed' to sleep on your back - which contributes to minor panic when I wake up on my back after being there for goodness knows how long. This all adds up to a very very tiny amount of sleep each night.

Waddling:
From about month 5 - 7 1/2 I had the pregnant-gal sashay. It was awesome. It was the height of feeling pregnant-gal sexy. But now, the sashay is long gone. The regular walk is total history. I waddle. There is nothing normal or cute or sexy about it. Waddling is for ducks and weeble-wobbles and me.

Clothes:
What clothes? I am now relegated to the world of elastic-waisted pants. Ew! Until very recently I poo-pooed the gigantic stretchy clothes, thinking that they wouldn't EVER fit, as if the rules of pregnancy somehow did not apply to me. I refused to buy exorbitant amounts of maternity clothing (a: because they are SO ugly and b: they know they have you over a barrel and force you to pay stoopid prices for ill-crafted garments. I refuse), so now I find myself with one pair of jeans, one sweater, my trusty yoga pants, and thank God for the Bella Band but even those are starting to be uncomfortable. This clothes horse finds it seriously unfair. I was pleased (and between you and me, a bit smug about) fitting into pre-preg items until very recently. And with 2 1/2 weeks to go, I will not be spending one more dime on maternity gear. No way.

General Belly Bigness:
I can't put on shoes without a fight. I run into the counters in the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator door into my belly earlier today. Bizarre groans emerge when I try to haul myself off the sofa, chair, bed. I'm a yoga teacher - and I can't move!!! Did I ever have a waist-line? Pete claims he remembers my figure, but I have zero recollection.

Uncomfortableness:
Weird things hurt. Ligaments that I didn't know I had. A really cute little foot that loves to kick me in the ribs. Getting tickled from the inside. Remember that fall I took exactly one year ago where I flashed the UPS guy? Well, that back injury is back in full force due to shifting joints and bones.

I'll stop. And take a moment to reiterate that I really have enjoyed the entire ride. And the whole thing is a miracle - I feel guilty even mentioning any of the negative stuff in light of such a fabulous experience. But I'm starting to feel like a host. And perhaps, Mother Nature is even starting to prepare this Pollyanna for labor.

Uncomfortable Fruit

Poppy got his/her name from this weekly 'fruit comparison', but I'm starting to get a bit spooked... These were taken several weeks ago. Now, we're at watermelon. Dude.

What I'm Looking Forward To. A Lot.

Well, with just shy of 5 weeks left until the big day, there are all kinds of thoughts running through this head of mine. Last minute to-dos (final nursery set-up, protein-cramming, little things like finding a pediatrician...) make for a loooong list, thoughts about what labor and delivery might actually be like (a breeze, right?) and wonders about if there is/was anything else I can do/could have done to ensure baby is as happy and healthy as possible.

All in all, I have loved being pregnant, and while I have started to get a smidge uncomfortable, I know I'm going to miss it. But then, I think of the things I'm soooo going to enjoy again after Poppy arrives. The Top Ten List of Things I'm Looking Forward To:

- Sleeping on my stomach. Like, full-on take-over-the-bed, push-Pete-aside sprawling. (Yes yes, I know I'm "never going to sleep again". In fact, a sub-benefit to this item is that I don't need to hear people tell me that again... That and "your life will never be the same". Oh yeah? No kiddin. I didn't realize that.)
- Poached eggs. Oh how I've missed you.
- Massive quantities of sushi. The real stuff. The rawer the better
- Yoga. All of it. The flow, the inversions, the deep stretches and the twists. Oh, the twists.
- My clothes. Although living in a small sub-set of items makes me realize that I can happily reduce the number of items in my closet.
- Wine. More than the occasional "ration".
- Getting my figure back. Perhaps superficial, but ...
- Related - running. In fact, I already have my first race lined up. Bloomsday folks. Pete will push Poppy and we'll charge up DoomsDay hill together.
- Bending over. Well to be honest, moving in general. And getting rid of the back pain. That'll be nice.
- Meeting my little baby. I've been looking forward to meeting this cute compilation of Peter and Amy for over nine months. Heck, all of my adult life. I am SO excited to meet Poppy!