Auntie Bullhorn

One of the joys of motherhood is watching your family members evolve from their pre-baby roles into daddies, grandmas and grandpas, and aunties and uncles. Watching my sisters transform from the bane of my existence in my teenage years, to friends in adulthood and now to Bug's aunts has been a unique pleasure I never would have imagined prior to Bug's arrival.

A couple of months ago, I wrote about how my sisters helped me to prepare for Bug.  Shit really hasn't hit the fan yet, and Bug has been an incredibly easy baby, but they really have had my back. 

My middle sister, former All-American rugby player and general hard-ass has been a real surprise.  Before Bug came around, she was TERRIFIED of babies and generally disliked children.  In fact, the sound of children singing has always been on the top of her list of annoyances and she is the first one to comment about an unruly child in public.  I wouldn't say she hated children.... but there was definitely a mutual dislike between her and the tiny humans.

When my sister was little, she was deemed "Grandma's revenge" for her bull-in-a-china-shop demeanor.  She learned to channel her freakish strength and energy into sports from an early age, and ultimately she ended up making the All American team for women's rugby.  Just over a year ago, she ended up marrying a young man with a similar demeanor.  It isn't unusual for the two of them to break out into a wrestling match during a family dinner.  In fact, 3 days before their wedding, they were playing a sporty game of chase in their small apartment when my soon-to-be BIL got a little too close for comfort and my sister decided to jump over the couch to get away.  She snagged her toe on the back cushion, fell onto her shoulder, and ended up in a sling for the wedding. 

Oh, and did I mention she is L-O-U-D!  All throughout high school and college we noticed that boys who were more than a little hearing impaired (or gluttons for punishment) tended to be the ones who followed her around the most.  Thus, her new nickname... Auntie Bullhorn.
 
My dad started calling her Auntie Bullhorn when he noticed that my sister's voice repeatedly triggered Bug's startle reflex.  When Auntie Bullhorn talks, Bug's sleepy hands go flying into the air with uncanny predictability. 

The morning that Bug was born, Auntie Bullhorn held Bug as though she were a nuclear bomb capable of detonating at any moment if handles improperly.  Luckily, they had a breakthrough early on when Bug spit up while on her back in her hospital room bassinet.  I'd only been out of the delivery room for about an hour and was still pretty numb from my epidural.  I tried to get up to help Bug, who was making a terrible choking noise.  My sister stared, panic stricken, until she ultimately decided to roll the tiny baby over.  The amniotic fluid erupted from her miniature mouth and the chocking noise stopped.  After that, she told everyone that she'd saved Bug's life and continued on in her new roll as auntie with renewed confidence.

Amazingly enough, Auntie Bullhorn has become one of Bug's favorite caretakers.  She spends most of her days off at my house playing dress-up, having tummy time, and bouncing up and down on my balance ball to quiet Bug's cries.  Auntie Bullhorn has also replaced her Nordstrom Rack addiction with an addiction to buying the cutest little outfits I have ever seen.    

Auntie Bullhorn spent the week in Portland visiting her SIL, and missed our weekly visit.  We sent her this....

 And this is what I got back...
        "....This is the best thing that ever happened to me!"

Strange how a baby in the family changes things.
 

Book Review: Baby Catcher

Baby Catcher: Chronicles of a Modern Midwife By Peggy Vincent

My baby sister has been reading almost as many baby books as I have since she found out about my pregnancy. Like me, she's an amazon junkie and takes reader reviews seriously. So when she saw Peggy Vincent's Baby Catcher and its rave reviews, she couldn't pass it up. Agreeing completely with the reviewers, passed it my direction, but not before making a few notes in the table of contents.

A few reviewers warned that this book is not for pregnant women. Bad things can happen during childbirth, and Vincent does include two such stories in her book. Worried that it might freak me out, sis inked a little sad face on any chapter that included anything sad. She also rated each chapter so that I'd make sure to read the best chapters if I ran short on time.  (Did I mention my sisters have been freaking awesome?)

I read the book, in its entirety, even the sad parts, because, despite being an exhausted mushy-minded pregnant zombie lady, I couldn't put it down. Vincent does an exceptional job of illustrating that, although there really is no such thing as a normal birth, childbirth is a natural process that woman are more than capable of accomplishing without medical intervention. Many of these stories are highly motivational and provided me with more confidence that I am will somehow to be able to make it through labor and delivery. And, frankly, I fear for the women who said this book is too scary for pregnant women. I think most women are aware that complications can happen and won't completely shatter because they read about it.

For the non-expectant, this book was an exceptional account of the midwifery and the world of home birth. I also provided an insider's look at how medical practices have evolved.

Despite my overall satisfaction with the book I do have one minor complaint. Vincent's depiction of hospitals is almost entirely negative. In the first chapter of the book she tells stories of women being strapped down and heavily medicated to the point where their birth experience can be described as nothing short of torture. She ends the book, and her career, practicing once again in a hospital and leads readers to believe that, though women are no longer being tied down, they are still being severely mistreated in this setting. I was surprised and a little put off by the tone in which she ended the book.

Overall, I would give this book a 4 out of 5 and would highly recommend it for anyone interested in reading inspirational birth stories.

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Sisters

I was never one of those kids who begged their parents for a baby brother or sister.  In fact, I was pretty happy with my parents all to myself and was a little pissed off when they came around.

Being the big sister sucks.  I got in trouble all the time for not being a good enough big sister because I was much more content to be alone than playing with the two of them.  They are two years apart, and have always been very close, and they banded together to make my youth a living hell.  They'd steal my stuff and, more often than not, return it broken or not at all.  They'd wake me up early, not caring that I liked to sleep in, and pull my eyes open by my eyelashes.  They'd whine to my parents how unfair it was that I got to do things that they didn't get to do and, because of my baby sisters superior powers of persuasion, they got to do most of they got to do all the things I'd waited so long to do shorty thereafter. 

When we were really young, my parents had the brilliant idea to have all of us sleep in the same room.  The baby, probably about 3 at this point, was in a small toddler bed between me and my middle sister.  More frequently than I really care to remember, rather than having an accident in her own bed, baby sister would move from her sleeping space to the foot of my own to relieve herself.  This atrocity was only topped by the time middle sister pooped in the tub with me in it.

Now that I am "with Bug", they are finally paying me back for all the pain they caused.  This is the card they got me for my baby shower.

And I know they will.

Already baby sis has used her nanny expertise to "help me" with my registry... and by help me I mean request my password and remove everything she thought was crap and exchanging it for something better.  I'd be annoyed but she also has been collecting good from her clients that have included 2 bjorns (though as you've seen below, we're also getting an ergo), 2 swings (so that I don't have to drag one up and down the stairs), an arms reach cosleeper, a snap and go stroller frame, and a crib, all in almost new condition.

Knowing I was freaking out about having to put Bug in daycare so young (since I'll be returning to work in late March), baby sis also polled my entire family to see when they'd be able to come and watch her for the day, or even a week, and made a schedule so that there is someone watching her, at our house, until school lets out at the end of May and I'm back home.  9 weeks of FREE daycare from the people I trust most.

For those 9 weeks, middle sister switched her work schedule so that she'll have Wednesday, Thursday and Fridays off to watch Bug.  She won't have a day off for 9 weeks.

Right about now, they are more than making up for the pain they put me through.  I'm feeling very lucky to have sisters

The Shotgun Wedding That Almost Didn't Happen

It was just a few days before my super fancy city hall wedding.  Surprisingly, I had about 20 family members respond to my equally fancy wedding invite and were taking the day off to come and watch us get married.  Why? Not sure.  We were kind of hoping it would just be the two of us and someone to sign as a witness, but family is nice too.

It was two days before the wedding and I hadn't heard anything from City Hall.  Now, I am not really sure how City Hall Weddings work, but I thought they might just call to make sure that the bride and groom still liked each other.  Fishy.  Being the incredibly responsible bride-to-be that I am, I gave them a quick call to confirm that we were scheduled to get married at 2:00 pm on September 3rd. 

They had no idea who I was.  FUCK!!!!

I was absolutely sure that the woman who was no telling me that they had no record of our existence was the same one who booked the appointment.  If I could have reached through the phone and strangled her dumb ass I would have. 

As calmly as I could, I explained that I had a pretty sizable group of people showing up for this shin-dig.  My voice must have been shaking pretty badly, because she agreed to speak to the person who performed the ceremonies and get back to me.  Between then and when I heard from her were the LONGEST 45 minutes of my life.  Luckily, they agreed to squeeze in a 3:00 appointment, since my 2:00 was gone, which leads me to suspect that this is not the first time this woman has completely lost track of a wedding.

The same thing happened with my hair appointment the day of the wedding, which left me in hysterical tears sitting on the sidewalk in the middle of downtown Davis.  Luckily, I didn't know this until I showed up, and my middle sister, whom you should know is an all-American college Rugby player, somehow managed to convince them to squeeze me in as well.  But by this time, I was pretty sure that I'd just made up the entire idea of a wedding.  Little sister called and confirmed that we are still scheduled at the courthouse at 3:00.

We were planning on getting married outside, but the weather didn't want to cooperate.  It was 102 degrees and I decided that pregnant ladies and heat don't mix.  We opted for the inside affair at the last minute.  When DH and I arrived, my entire family and two of his friends were there.

It amazes anyone who knows me or who has seen me leading a class full of 45 screaming teenagers, but I HATE TO BE THE CENTER OF ATTENTION, which is a major contributing factor to why DH and I decided on going to City Hall.  I didn't realize that getting married there meant that my entire family would end up watching DH and I fill out the paperwork and then stand around (because there were no chairs in the room where we got married) and stare at us while we said our vows.  One of DH's friends teased me about my voice breaking up during the vows, but he didn't realize it was from nerves, not tears. 

Between the heat and the gawking, I look absolutely miserable in every picture that was taken of us that day.  Our poor baby is probably going to think that we only got married because we had to because she was coming. 

After the ceremony, we headed out to Buca di Beppo, where my parents were kind enough to buy dinner for the entire procession.  The food was good, and we got to sit together and talk and not be the center of attention, thanks again to the crazy attention whores (my sisters). 

Since we were planning on having a barbecue the next day for friends and other people who weren't able to make it, we offered our house to the fam, most of whom live a couple of hours away.  This gave us babysitters for Daisy Dog and the opportunity to have a one night "honeymoon" at the Citizen hotel.  We ended the night celebrating our marriage, and enjoying each others company. 

Though we already felt very committed to each other, it was very nice to have this last little thing taken care of before the baby comes.  I hope later she will understand that mommy and daddy never wanted a big wedding because it was about a marriage and the start of our new family.

Why You Shouldn't Get Married When You Are Already Pregnant

This weekend my mom and sisters came up to help me get ready for my upcoming city hall wedding.  Though I didn't really think it was necessary, I still needed to get something to wear to this wedding and DF decided to make this his bachelor party weekend.  I kind of think we should stand in solidarity and agree that if I can't drink/party/have fun, neither should he.  But marriage is about compromise.  See what a good wife I'll make.


Being as I am at the 20 week mark, my girth is rapidly expanding, though I must have been in some kind of denial.  My plan was to find a simple sundress.  The only requirement was that it had to fit.  Though it is almost September, you'd think there would be a dress or two that would work for me, and I assumed that as long as I stuck to something with an empire waist I'd probably be fit into something.

I didn't take into account my rapidly expanding boobies. 


We started at Nordstrom, where even the dresses for plus size ladies refused to zip over my massive funbags.  Normally, as someone who is only average in the bust department, I would consider this a good problem.  But, getting married naked was not in my plans.


We hit up a few more non-maternity stores before I gave up, realizing I officially can no longer fit into anything that isn't maternity wear.  So we headed to destination maternity, where, in addition to getting fitted for a new bra (an effing E cup, BTW!), I tried on several hideous dresses that made me look SUPER pregnant.  I emerged from the dressing room wearing one atrocious mumu, and burst into tears.  My sisters burst into laughter, which made me cry even harder.  Apparently, poor little pregnant chic in the dressing room next to mine had emerged only moments before, also in tears.

Tired of this nonsense, the ladies drug me into Janie and Jack, where I absolutely fell in love with this cute little jacket.  Remember, I only just found out that we are having a little girl, so I have abstained from purchasing any clothes. 

My mom, proud grandma, likely fearful I'd cry again at any moment, got it for me.  I feel like a spoiled brat, but really, I have as much control of my emotions at this point as a kindergartner.  After they fed me, I was ready to continue.

We finally found a simple, baby blue cotton maxi dress at a boutique.  I didn't look like a whale, so I got it and we headed home. 

I was ready to call it a day, but my sister insisted that we "ho it up" and get dressed to go out.  The bitch dragged us to a bar, which may have been the most awkward experience of my life.  It was loud, and the baby pounded on the inside of my belly, while my sisters grabbed a drink.  Though the intention was good, I was miserable, and it was pretty obvious.  We left and got to eat again... the highlight of any pregnant lady's day.

Today, because the dress I bought was too long, I took it in to be altered.  The man behind the counter informed me it would be $18, and asked if I was really sure I wanted to alter it.  After all, it was just a simple cotton dress and wouldn't be worth it.  Fuck you very much.  

Let me say, if I ever get married again, I will not be pregnant when I do.