Form and Function: The Mad Scientist

I was thinking this morning about how Rollie seems to see everything in terms of its form or its function. i guess that we as adults do this, but that we have fine-tuned our classifications, so that we can barely see or comprehend the generalizations that Rollie makes in his mind.

What made me think of this? Rollie handed me a hair clip, saying "hair" as he handed it to me for me to put in my hair. (No, I wasn't going to wear it - he just decided upon seeing it that i needed to put it in my hair. For Rollie's set, when you see something, and you recognize its purpose, you immediately put the said object to its purpose, whether or not there is a need for it at that moment or not.)

I started thinking about all the things that Rollie will hand me to put in my hair - Bobby pins, barettes, hairbrush, comb, or hairdryer. Even the diffuser. It amazes me the connections he will make and the little everyday things that he picks up from us, that we don't even attempt to teach him. Occasionally, though, he will hand me something that appears to him to serve a "hair" function, but which in reality only looks like something else that serves a hair function, but actually is used for another purpose. Like brushing your teeth. Yep, sometimes Rollie will do an uh-oh, and hand me a toothbrush and want me to brush my hair with it. Very funny.

Rollie sees balls in everything, too. Sure, a ball is a ball, by any other name. A globe is a ball, but if you see a globe, you don't say, "Ball." You say, "Globe." Rollie says ball.

This made me think about how he sees things in term of their shape, or color, or function. He is constantly making classifications of different objects, where we adults just accept each object for what we know it to be. Not what else it might be.

It is like having my own little mad scientist.

39 Weeks, 4 Days

I had my weekly appointment this morning. I have been having some stronger BH, lots of pelvic/rectal (TMI?) pressure, the occasional shooting pelvic pain, and some stronger, almost painful contractions, so I decided to let them check me. (They ask you if you want to anytime after 37 wks and i normally refuse, but this time i felt like maybe something was actually happening.

So, i am "really soft, dilated about a 1.5 to 2, but a 3 on the outside of the cervix. This one was new to me - I asked her how the heck i could be a 3 on the outside, but a 1-2 on the inside. She explained it as the inner part of the cervix's cone shape being a 1-2, but the outside being at a 3. Whatever. Sounds like false hope to me!

She really dug around in there (owie) to "stir the pot" but did not strip the membranes. There was plenty of blood and mucous when she pulled out the glove and she told me to "expect some more" - which i would anyway having had my cervix mauled today.

She asked about my last pg (did i go overdue - yes, and was induced 8 days later for low amniotic fluid) and she said, 'well, hopefully we will avoid that this time." I told her i was definitely feeling more action down there than I did with my first pg (where i felt NOTHING). She said that, and the softness of my cervix were really good signs, so maybe I'd be having the baby this weekend. I told her I'd get my hopes up when I saw the head coming out of my vagina. She said "you're definitely getting ready for it down there." Way more promising than i would have hoped. But i am still not getting my hopes up.

Finally, i read my chart on the way to the checkout desk, and i have trouble reading their writing, but i believe that it said that i was 1-2cm dilated, 50% effaced. Everything else seemed normal - bp, urine, weight gain, etc. No swelling.

I sure am having a lot of cramping now, but i am sure that is from the cervical check.

Anyway, if nothing happens this weekend, i will be back in there on Tuesday at 40 wks, 2 days. Ugh.

39 weeks. . . .

and nothing is happening. I did have a little bit of menstrual-feeling crampiness in my lower back and stomach last night. I think that may have been caused my walking at the mall yesterday afternoon. (That's what i get for going to the mall - i really don't like the mall.) Anyway, it seems to have passed and I am not having much going on today. I did have a few bh contrax this a.m. but nothing painful or patterned.

I am so going to go over and have to be induced again. I know it!

Yep, I Actually Said This. . . .

We do not draw on our tongue.

Sweetie, I Love You, But. . . .

Why is it that you think you are above unloading the dishwasher? If you are watching the Boy while I go out for dinner with a friend, and you are in charge of the dinner and dishes implied therein, Why, oh, why??? is it that you will ignore the full, clean dishwasher full of dishes ready to be put away? Why would you bypass the unloading of the dishwasher step in favor of hand-washing the dirty dishes in the sink, then leaving them out to dry on a towel on the countertop?

How do you think it makes me feel to have a sink full of dirty dishes from breakfast (in addition to the knife and plate from your nightly peanut butter cracker snack - busted again!), plus mine and Rollie's lunch dishes, along with a full dishwasher to unload, and the dishes on the countertop to put away? I might as well stay home and save myself some work.

Why, why, why??

Quadremesters

I had dinner with an old friend last night. (I will get to how long I have known him as part of my story further on.) We had cuban, he had beers, and i had two cokes and then had to pee the rest of the night.

He is a year older than i am (34, i guess?) and is still single and i thoroughly enjoy hearing about his bachelor lifestyle. He asks if I can keep a secret, and confides in me that he is dating a 25 year old. My reply: "Well, you are pretty immature, so that seems like a good age difference." She called during the course of dinner and he asked if I would like to go with him after our dinner to meet the new girl and a friend of hers. I agreed.

We went to some trendy, overpriced bar in Buckhead, and I ordered a glass of wine (sweet, sweet nectar of the Gods!!!) and chatted until they arrived. I also enjoyed the experience of the nine-months pregnant woman sitting at the bar. Always entertaining. . . .

The girls arrived a few minutes later, and as they approach, the friend of the girlfriend exclaims, "Oh, you ARE pregnant! Good, you can answer something for us!"

"Okay," I say.

"How many trimesters are there in a pregnancy?"

No, I am not kidding. I keep a straight face, and say, "There are three trimesters in a pregnancy."

"I knew it!!," she says triumphantly to the girlfriend.

The girlfriend ponders this for a moment and then a look of realization dawns on her face. She turns to me and says:

"So, it's kind of like 'quarters.'

Um, yeah. Kinda.

"So, how long have y'all known each other?" she says?

I turn to him: "Well, Ev, when did you move to the old neighborhood?"

"I was like, 12, so . . . 1982?" he replies.

"Oh, My God!!! I was born in 1980!"

Looks Like a Libra

Unless I pop this baby out between now and midnight, looks like the little lady will be a Libra like her Daddy. Do I put much stock in Astrology? Well, no, but it is fun to think about anyway. Rollie could have been a Leo or a Virgo (he is a virgo). Todd is a Libra, while I am an Aquarius. It is interesting that three of us will be Air signs (Libra and Aquarius), but that Rollie will be the only Earth sign. What does that mean?

I have no idea. But i read about it online while i was waiting for the baby to come.

The Amazing Talking Rollie

Rollie, I don't know why i ever worried that you might have speech problems. You hit two years old in August and now you are wowing us with your conversational skills. You are so much fun to watch, as you try out the feel of different sounds on your tongue. It doesn't matter what you are saying, just that you are constantly chattering now. When you are mad are upset, you deteriorate into some freakish language of your own, where the main words are those words you know best: You cry out from your bedroom with the "Mama, Dada, nilk, meow, meow, meow" as if the cats can save you from the dark. Todd and I lay in bed and shake with laughter at the creativity of your plaintive calls.

These days, you have learned that "Yes" and "no" are answers, and that "why" causes Mama to make an exasperated (and evidently funny) face. You have no idea what "Why" means, but it has become an important weapon in the "I'm not ready for my bath" arsenal.

Your knowledge of numbers and letters must have existed long before you could say them, because just in the last week, you can kind of count to ten (you still let us say "one" first, and then you say "two," and if we point out the rest of the numbers in order to ten, you can do "three," "pour," "pive," and "tix.' You have trouble with seven, but you know "eight," "nein," (and yes, it sounds like German when you say it), and "ten."

On the subject of the Alphabet, you don't know it yet, but you know that letters have sounds associated with them, and when you see a letter, you will throw out every sound you can think of trying to get the right one. And if we say the sound for you, you mimic it right back to us.

And this morning, you and Daddy had the most interesting exchange: You had out your markers and were "dying" (your word, which can be a little disconcerting sometimes, for drawing). You handed a marker to Daddy and instructed him to "die." He said, "what do you want me to draw?" and you proceeded to request the following: "E," "nein," "2," "boof" (dog), "meow" (cat), and "ballball" (football). It was fascinating, just like everything about how your little mind is developing these days.

I love watching you gradually grow into a new person every day.

38 Plus Two

Yep, I'm down to counting the days. Could be two or three more weeks. Could be tomorrow. The wa-a-a-iting is the hardest part.

Rollie had his first big-boy haircut today. We went to Stylin' Kids. Not bad for a 17 dollar haircut - he was pretty good, even letting Marilyn, the stylist, shave the back of his neck. Usually, clippers are VERY SCARY. The only bad part was that they gave him a dumdum while giving him the haircut and he was eating it even though there was hair on it, which anyone who knows me knows is NOT good in my book.

Not much else going on. Just waiting to pop.

37 wks and Counting!

I'm 37 weeks. i cannot believe it. This pg has gone so much faster than the first one did. i guess having a toddler to keep me company has done that. I don't think it really sank in until i started thinking last night, "I could go into labor now and it would be okay." I definitely feel differently than I did last time - more creaky, more pelvic shooting pains and pressure, more poops (I think baby is pretending my colon is the gas pedal of her personal car.) Did I mention acid reflux/indegestion? constant peeing? Tired feet? And now I feel ravenous, eat two bites, and then i'm full. And hungry an hour later. I feel like a mouse foraging for crumbs in the pantry.

rollie is wearing me out, on the go constantly, and definitely showing his 2 yr old independence: "Let's lay down and change your diaper," I say. "NOOOOOO," he says, laughing and running off. I am already on the floor, and have to haul my whale of a body up and chase him down almost every time.

I think I am ready for his little sister to get here: The nursery is done, bags are packed, carseat is installed, Rollie caretakers are lined up for when I go into labor. Now all i need is to go into labor.

So, this time, I just plan to have an activity for every day - nothing too big (morning trips to the zoo or the park), I bought four books at the bookstore this past weekend, I can submerge myself into football and end of baseball seasons, and I even pulled out all my scrapbook stuff (I'm not even going to say how far behind I am with Rollie's scrapbook). But i am still going to go crazy. I know it, even though I said i wouldn't get my hopes up about going early, or even on time.

Death By Leech

You will be sucked dry by a leech. I'd stay away
from swimming holes, and stick to good old
cement. Even if it does hurt like hell when
your toe scrapes the bottom.


What horrible Edward Gorey Death will you die?
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